Secresy; or, Ruin on the Rock

LETTER XV

FROM LORD FILMAR TO SIR WALTER BOYER

One, two, three, or four pages, by Jupiter! cried I, as I opened your packet, Walter; and I ran over the first ten lines with a devouring greediness: for, would not any man have expected, as I expected when I had so lately written you two letters upon the projects and hopes that dance in gay attire before me, that your epistle must have contained comments innumerable, hints useful, and cautions sage. Neither comment, hint, nor caution, could I find. Nothing but four sides of paper covered with rhapsodies which have neither connection with nor likeness of any thing in heaven above, in the earth beneath, nor in the waters under the earth.

Yet, negligent as thou art, still must I write on. My fancy is overcharged with matter, for I have done wonders: wonders, Walter! Yesterday at ten o'clock I talked with Lady Monkton's housekeeper; who once was Mrs. Valmont's housekeeper; and yesterday at four o'clock I talked with Mr. Valmont himself. Turn back to yesterday; and observe me, in Sir Gilbert's post coach, arrived with due state and precision before the venerable doors of Valmont castle, accompanied only by my father, and attended by Griffiths armed as all outward points like a beau valet, and like a skilful engineer within laying wait to spring a mine for his commanding officer.

With measured steps, Mr. Valmont approached us three paces without the drawing room door. He conducted us to his lady; who, on a rich heavy and gilded sopha, sat in melancholy grandeur to receive us.

'But the niece,' I hear you cry, 'Not a single glimpse of her, I suppose?'

'Yes, Sir Walter Boyer, I have seen her.'

'Seen her! Why, I thought – .'

Psha! what can a Baronet have to do with thought?

Do you still doubt? Then shall I proceed, and fire your imagination with the graces of my goddess. All enchanting! nothing wanting! for I have gazed my fill – yes – on her picture. – Why look you so, Walter? – Am I not her predestined lover, and has she not 6000l. per annum?

'Pray, Madam, by what artist was this portrait done?' said I, to Mrs. Valmont, while the 'Squire and Earl were gone to visit the nymph of the south wing, with my imagination stealing after them on tiptoe.

'Not by any artist, Sir,' replied the lady. 'It was the performance of Clement Montgomery. It is drawn for my niece – .'

'Then she must have the honour greatly to resemble you, Madam. Upon my soul the likeness is astonishing.'

Up rose Mrs. Valmont. 'Why indeed, Lord Filmar, though I never observed it before, there is something of me in the turn of these features; but indisposition, Sir, the cruel hand of sickness, has made sad havock with my face.' – And she pushed a little backward the hood which had almost hid her remnant of beauty.

In short, dear Walter, I dined at the castle. My father saw the lady and I saw her picture. My father says, and so says the picture, that she is very handsome. By the answers to a few questions artfully arranged to Mrs. Valmont, but more certainly from the result of Griffiths' steady enquiries among the household, I learn that she is a mere savage, and loves her fellow savage Clement as she ought only to love me.

Loves her fellow savage Clement! you exclaim. Not less strange than true, Walter; and, if you would know more, listen as I did to the aforementioned housekeeper.

'Of all the youths my eyes ever beheld,' said Mrs. Luxmere, 'I think Master Clement Montgomery was the handsomest; and so affable, my Lord! – He used to steal into my room once or twice every day to eat sweetmeats, when Miss Valmont or his tutor did not watch him.'

'But who does this Master Clement Montgomery belong to?' said I.

'To Mr. Valmont, my Lord. I'll tell you exactly how it was. Nobody, as far as I know, had ever heard of this young gentleman till just after the 'Squire's niece came to the castle; and then the 'Squire took a journey, and brought home with him a fine handsome boy. And he gave a great entertainment; all the rooms were filled with company; and after dinner he led in Clement Montgomery, and bade every body look on him as his adopted son. Some people think, indeed, that he is the 'Squire's – .'

Mrs. Luxmere affected to titter. 'You are of that opinion?' said I. —

'Certainly,' replied Mrs. Luxmere. 'Nothing can be more certain. Old Andrew has lived five and twenty years with Mr. Valmont; and he can't deny it. Beside, if you were to see Master Clement, my Lord, you would swear it. He is so handsome and so genteel!'

'And is Miss Valmont handsome, and genteel, and affable, Mrs. Luxmere?'

'I know very little about her, my Lord, although I lived in the castle nine years,' said the housekeeper, with much abatement of her warmth. 'Mr. Valmont ordered both her and Master Clement not to speak to any one of the household, and she never came into my room in her life. Master Clement used to come so slily! – and many a nice bit has he been eating beside me, when Miss Valmont has been roaming the house and grounds in search of him! She has a suite of rooms entirely to herself in the south wing, and is waited on by silent Andrew and his deaf daughter – '

'Where is Montgomery now?' said I.

'Oh dear, my Lord, you can't think what strange things have happened to him! The 'Squire sent him abroad and he staid two years and he came home they say so grown and so improved, it was charming to think of it! Yet that tyger-hearted Mr. Valmont has disinherited him, and sent him to London to work for his bread! Poor dear youth! I know it's true, my Lord.'

Enough of Mrs. Luxmere. It is true, Walter, that this dear and handsome youth was brought up in the castle with Miss Valmont. Every creature in it bears testimony to his good nature, for he would not only eat sweetmeats slily with Mrs. Luxmere, but he would slily ride with the grooms, tell stories with the butler, and so completely elude the vigilance of the 'Squire and his tutor, that his contrivances are still a famous topic in the servants' hall. Not so Miss Valmont. She never tempted the domestics from their obedience, nor invited them to familiarity, by that sacrifice of her integrity. I like this part of her character, nor am I at all inclined to give credit to the supposition which prevails among the servants of her being deranged in intellect. A little too hardy of nerve for a Countess, I confess, she roams, they tell me, in defiance of storm or tempest, in the woods, nay even in the echoing galleries of the terrific castle, at and after midnight. Some say she has conversed with apparitions, others only fear that she will one day or other encounter them; but all agree that, while he was here, she adored Clement. And since he has been gone she, to an old oak, for his sake, pays her adorations.

We talked of this Montgomery yesterday, at dinner. His being disinherited is all stuff. He is Valmont's idol. Valmont praised him to the skies, not what he is, but what he is to be when all the 'Squire's plans respecting him shall be completed. Yet he has faults, it seems. Wonderful! And cast in Mr. Valmont's mould too! What are his faults, think you, Boyer? Why, he admires the world. Lack a day! – at one and twenty! But he is to be cured of this defect. Oh, yes; Mr. Valmont possesses the grand secret! He is quack-royal to the human race; and possesses the only specific in nature to make a perfect man. Were I in Montgomery's place, I would wind Valmont round and round my finger.

Care I for the nymph's loving her Clement, think you? ne'er a whit! Did he win her by caresses, I'll not be behind hand. Or were sighs and flattery his engine, I can sigh and flatter too. Aye, surely the practice-taught Filmar may stand a competitorship with Valmont's pupil. In two months or less, she shall herself decide upon our merits, and acknowledge me the victor. None of your croakings, Walter. When did I fail of success where I chose to attempt it, even among beauties armed with cunning and caution? How then shall I fail with this unadvised, this inexperienced damsel, whom doubtless a man of less might than I could draw round the world after him in a cobweb. Should Uncle Valmont rave when I have secured the prize, I'll send him among the tombs of my ancestors for consolation. He loves family; and there he may nose out a long list of worm-eaten rotten heroes, whose noble scent can inform him that even the blood of the Valmonts may be enriched by uniting with the offspring of the dust of the Filmars.

My necessities are urgent, Walter. The day of sealing my last mortgage draws near; and, if my invention is not more fertile on that account, at least my resolution is more undaunted. Were time less pressing, I might grow coy with expedient. As it is, I must snatch at bare probabilities; and, in faith, be it the wildness of the design, be it ambition, avarice, or be the motive what it may, I grow more and more enamoured of the heiress of Valmont castle, and more and more fearless of whatever risks I may encounter to obtain her.

Congratulate me, Walter, on my firmness; and believe me, in a very considerable degree, thine,

LETTER XVI

FROM CLEMENT MONTGOMERY TO ARTHUR MURDEN

I write again and again to you, Arthur, and you remain silent. Yet a fate so various as mine makes even communication enjoyment. Various, did I say? no, it was but my apprehensions that were various. The fate was certain, established beyond the reach of change. Mr. Valmont ever designed to make me his heir, and designs it still. Yesterday brought me a welcome letter, and a more welcome remittance. 'I am known to be your protector, Clement,' says Mr. Valmont in his letter; 'and it is necessary for my honour that you should preserve a degree of consequence among men. Moreover, money is the master key to the confidence of men. Use it as such. Gratify their wants, real or artificial; and they, in return, will soon display the sordidness the ingratitude of their hearts.' Precious doctrines, these! And, Arthur, I being wiser than the sender, have dismissed them, to keep their fellow maxims company in a close shut drawer in my secretary, where they shall rest in peace until I turn snarling cynic also.

But the intimation, Arthur! – the cash, Arthur! I have not hoarded those in a drawer! you hear that it is necessary for Mr. Valmont's honor that I preserve consequence among men. Ah! dear Sir! leave me ever thus to the support of your honor among men! I will not complain though you preserve wholly to yourself the felicity of being locked within the walls of Valmont's castle! I yield the building, and am content alone to aim at preserving your honour and dignity with the valued produce of its rich acres.

This is the first time that Mr. Valmont's letters to me have failed to mention Sibella. Heaven avert the omen, if it be one! Yet surely, for Miss Ashburn advised and I commanded, surely she will be silent. Murden, 'twas one of the blind mistakes of fortune that Sibella and I should love each other, directly in the teeth of Mr. Valmont's designs, and both so absolutely within his power. Heigh-ho! I have been just taking a view of her picture. – What a divine face! Some day I will make another copy of this miniature. The hair, beautiful as it is, falls too forward, and hides the exquisite turn of her neck. How can I endure to conceal the greater beauty, and display the less! Ah! Should those lips, lips promising eternal sweets, ever move to the destruction of my hopes, should they betray me to Mr. Valmont, then Arthur, must they never again give joy to mine; for, however Sibella's wild energy might inspire me, while reclined at the foot of a tree, to vow this and to promise that of fortitude and forbearance, here, in the centre of delights, I feel that Sibella is as much a dreamer as her uncle. A thousand wants occur, that I knew not in her arms – wants which possibly her refinements might call artificial; yet, to me, is their gratification so endeared, as to become necessary to my existence. Sooner would I quit life, than live unknown and unknowing. Misled by the power of beauty, methought Sibella spoke oracles while she talked to me of contentment and independence. Whither might not the thraldom of her enslaving charms have led me! 'twas wonderful I escaped ruin! Wonderful that I had strength to persevere in opposing her intent of declaring to her uncle the secret of that contract which crowned me with happiness, while it laid the foundation of a world of fears. Could you see her, and could you taste the enticements of her caresses, you would wonder too. Heavens! how will my happy years roll on, should I become securely the inheritor of the Valmont estates, for then will I reward my fairest, then will I make her my wife! Oh, that I could find some magic spell to charm her to silence, to deaden in her the memory of the past, so that I might peaceably enjoy the present without torturing apprehensions to assail me of Mr. Valmont's discoveries, of Mr. Valmont's resentments!

But enough of the name of Valmont. Faith, Murden, my thoughts are never so near the castle as when I write to you; and the reason is plain – I fly to my pen only when a cessation from pleasure threatens me with lassitude; and to such a cause, I am frank enough to tell you, you owe this my letter.

It is now one hour past noon, and I went to bed at nine this morning. My limbs acknowledged a most unusual portion of weariness; but the gay shadows of the night's diversions flitted before me in tumultuous rotation. I had moments of insensibility on my pillow, but not of rest; and, after making a vain attempt of two hours to find sleep, I rose and ordered my breakfast. A thought of writing to you succeeded, for tempestuous weather will not let me ride, and haggard looks forbid me to visit.

Mrs. Ashburn's fortune must be immense; and, on my soul, I adore her spirit. She does not suffer time to steal by her unnoticed; nor wealth to sleep in her possession. I believe her very dreams are occupied in forming variety of pleasures. Their succession is endless and perpetual.

Yesterday and last night, I made one of a brilliant crowd of visitors who thronged to Mrs. Ashburn's. Her new house was purposely prepared for this occasion; and no ornament that taste could devise and wealth approve was wanting to render it complete in elegant splendour. – A suite of rich apartments were yesterday morning thrown open for the reception of near 300 persons. It was a breakfast worthy to be recorded among the enchantments of a Persian tale; and every mouth was filled with applause; and still would the breakfast and concert have been the universal theme, had not the more novel and splendid entertainment of the evening deservedly claimed the superior praise.

Mrs. Ashburn's cards had also invited the company of the morning to a masqued ball for the night. The masques began to assemble about eleven. Mrs. Ashburn had laid her commands on me not to appear till I judged the company would be assembled. No small tribute this her command to the vanity of your friend, Arthur. She had chosen my habit. She had added to it some brilliant ornaments. I will be honest enough to confess that to the utmost it displayed my advantages of person, and Mrs. Ashburn believed the effect of the whole would be striking. I represented a winged Mercury. My habit of pale blue sattin was fastened close around me with loops, buttons, and tassels of orient pearls, these, amounting to a value I dare hardly guess at, Mrs. Ashburn absolutely forced upon me for the occasion.

Thus resplendent I joined the throng. Buzzing whispers of —the Mercury! the Mercury! Splendid! charming! &c. &c. ran round the walls; but, if the Mercury excited their astonishment, his own surprise and delight was doubly triply excited by the enchantments which seemed to take his senses prisoner. Methought in the morning I had quitted a palace. What name then could I devise to express the fanciful grandeur of the present scene? Every thing was new. Such dispositions had been made that the form of the apartments appeared changed. How the pillars, lights, music, refreshments were disposed, you may amuse yourself, if taste will so far aid you, in imagining. As for me, I have no power of description; my brain whirls from one dazzling object to another, and leaves me but an indistinct crowded recollection of the various beauties.

Mrs. Ashburn was unmasked. Janetta Laundy had shone a bright star of the morning, but what cloud had now dimmed her rays I could not with the best of my endeavours discover. I detected the Dutchess de D – ; and essayed to gain some tidings of the recreant star, but she laughed me off without a tittle of information.

Suddenly the bands of music make an abrupt pause. Every one looks round, silent, and surprised. A pair of folding doors fly open. Streams of light burst upon the eye. The rich perfumes of the east pour forth their fragrance to the sense. The altar of taste appears, raised like a throne at the upper end of the temple. Rows of silvered cupids present offerings, and point to the goddess, who presides at her own altar.

I knew her form well: 'twas worthy of the goddess. Her robe fell gracefully behind, loose from her shape, which a white vest sprinkled with golden stars admirably fitted. Her plumes waved high over a coronet, of budding myrtle and the half blown rose. Her cestus glittered of the diamond. Diamond clasps confined the fulness of her robe sleeves a little above the elbow, and her fine arm borrowed no ornament beyond its own inestimable fairness. In short, Arthur, who could look on unmoved. 'Twas Mrs. Ashburn's triumph of wealth, but Janetta Laundy's uncontrollable triumph of beauty. I have many times wondered by what charm Janetta could arrive at such unbounded influence over her benefactress, for certainly Mrs. Ashburn has a plentiful share of vanity, and is ever aiming to excite admiration. How then can she forgive the youth and charms of her companion?