I wish, for my sister’s sake, that I could express a firm conviction that such lapses and omissions rise from my brother’s new and unfamiliar responsibilities as master of Churchill Manor; and yet, as my own circle of acquaintance has increased (for I was but seventeen at the time of Catherine’s marriage) and more of my time is spent among our mutual associates, I see how far his imprudence—his indiscretions—are known. I know that these have often embraced money matters, but can you believe—as you suggest in your letter—that my brother may have taken license with a trust that was meant to benefit Lady Vernon and her daughter? I wish, for the sake of Catherine and the children, that I could protest it at once. All I can say is that I do not know how such a thing can be easily proved and that any attempt at redress may only reveal that any fortune has been lost to my brother’s extravagance.
For Lady Vernon’s sake, I wish that something material might be done, but for Miss Vernon I think that a want of fortune will be no obstacle to her happiness. She is such a superior young lady that no gentleman of discernment would seek anything but her person in applying for her hand.
I am very happy to hear that she has secured your affection and your regard. Lady Vernon depends upon her returning to town in the early part of March, and I hope by that time you, sir, will part from her on such terms as will make you look favorably on the possibility of a more lasting connection.
I am, etc.,
R deC
chapter fifty-one
London proved to be less disagreeable than Lady Martin had feared, save for the necessity of leaving her cards at the houses of some connections whom she had not dropped, as their coming to London every season and her staying in Derbyshire had kept acquaintance at bay. She would read the newspapers or The Lady’s Magazine at the breakfast table and declare that there was no taste in politics nor sense in fashion. She was never without some kind of handiwork, and her fingers were so adept that they did not slow when her eyes wandered to the window and she exclaimed, “Only look at that muff that Miss Millbanke carries! I declare it goes to her knees!”—“Why, there is Mrs. Ferrars driving by, and both she and her pug in bottle-green velvet! I declare it suits the pup’s complexion better than her own!”—“There goes Mrs. Mapleton, as big as life, when I had every reason to suppose that she was dead!”
The honor of being received by Lady Martin and the opportunity of getting a look at Lady Vernon had many of these curiosities calling at Portland Place and coming away with gossip that was as excessively delightful as it was inaccurate; Sir James Martin was such a regular visitor that his engagement to Miss Vernon must be very close to being made public, and Mr. Reginald deCourcy was likewise so frequently at Portland Place that his intention to marry Lady Vernon was a certainty. Even the visits of Mr. Lewis deCourcy were attributed by some to matrimonial design—was it not possible that his long friendship with Lady Martin had ripened into love? To be sure, his visits might have no other purpose than to advise Lady Vernon on how she might invest the very great legacy left to her by Sir Frederick, and yet it was more delightful to think that aunt, niece, and grand-niece might all be bound for the altar.
By Dr. Driggs’s calculation, it would be another ten weeks before Lady Vernon’s confinement, and he did not object to her taking the air so long as she was neither compelled to sit in one attitude for more than an hour nor to climb in and out of the carriage too frequently, and provided the wind was not too brisk, nor the coach too warm, nor the air too wet, nor her shoes too thin. Lady Martin regarded all such decrees with patient disdain—some were too apt to forget that babies had come into the world long before anybody had thought to make a profession of writing receipts for dyspepsia and occasionally taking a pulse—but she was determined that nothing should be overlooked in providing for her niece.
The spell of rain ended, and one particularly mild morning Lady Martin announced that she had given orders for her carriage. “We both want an airing, and there is no better way of avoiding callers than being elsewhere when they arrive. I have it in mind to go to Rundell’s to purchase a pair of nice bracelets for Frederica to wear to the ball. Ah, me! My first season, when I was sixteen, I went to fifty balls and an equal number of musical parties and concerts and picnics. So many lively young men, and yet”—she sighed—“I settled upon your uncle. But he was a very good man, for all his gravity.”
Lady Martin had been so long from London that every change intrigued her. “How many more shops there are than when I was here last! Stop. I must see the ostrich plumes upon that bonnet!”—“Ah, just see those caricatures! Why, I daresay I know who that is without getting down to have a closer look!”
They made their way to Ludgate Hill at last, and Lady Vernon elected to sit in the carriage while her aunt went in to give her order for the bracelets. The part of town was very near to where she had lived as a girl, and she was absorbed in looking round the street and indulging in some pleasing memories when a rap at the carriage door brought her back to the present.
Lady Vernon was startled to see Manwaring standing beside the carriage, and pulling her lap robe higher upon her, she rolled down the glass to bid him good morning.
“What an excellent piece of luck to meet with you here! I would have called upon you today for I have the most astonishing piece of news. I think you will like to have the advantage of Alicia Johnson—for once, you will be able to surprise her.”
“It must be something very particular.”
“It is, indeed. I have been applied to for Maria’s hand—can you believe my good fortune? To have her out for five seasons at least, and thinking that I should have her on my hands forever! And you will never guess who the gentleman is!”
“I think it is Mr. Lewis deCourcy.”
The look of dejection upon his face brought her very near to laughing.
“Yes,” he said. “I confess that when the gentleman addressed me, I thought it was all a great joke! He was so very solemn! But he laid out his reasons for wishing to marry her very soundly, and what is more, he asks not a penny for her and will settle on her very handsomely. Of course, I gave my consent at once, though it is a very unequal match, but felicity in even the most equal matches is a matter of luck. And it will be a great comfort to me to have her so rich, for he is rolling in money and has never done more than purchase a very pretty house in Bath and some nice horses and carriages. And Maria asks for so little that they will not spend a quarter of what he brings in.”
“I am very happy to think that your sister will be so well settled.”
“And may I say that I am equally happy for Miss Vernon? It will be a great relief to you when her engagement to Sir James is announced—once she and Maria are married, we will both be at liberty to do as we like.”
Lady Vernon evaded this approach to familiarity by inquiring whether it was the business of Maria’s engagement that brought him into the city.
“Yes, indeed. There is a very fine diamond brooch that our mother had entrusted to me for Maria and it needs to be properly cleaned. I saw no occasion to present it to her before this, and I daresay there were times when I gave some thought to changing it for paste!” He laughed. “And in this part of the city, and Rundell being as discreet as he is, I have no doubt that I might have got away with it!”
“Save for those not infrequent pangs of conscience when your sister wore a brooch that your mother had entrusted to you and that you exchanged for paste.”