Margaret Capel, vol. 1

CHAPTER XI

"I don't know when I have been so vexed," said Harriet, who was sitting with Margaret, while the ladies went up to dress. "I'm sure you will never be friends with me after this contretemps."

"Indeed I shall," said Margaret. "You could not help it, I know; and it is no such great misfortune after all."

Harriet drew the fire together, rang for coffee, and pushed over a footstool to Margaret.

"We will try to make ourselves comfortable," said she. "I have told the women to come in and show you their dresses before they start. Then you shall have some strong coffee, and then to bed."

"I wish," said Margaret hesitating, "I wish you would tell me your history, as you promised."

"That is very sly," said Harriet laughing, "because I cannot refuse you anything under the circumstances. But I will do it, and the more readily, as I have not much to tell, so drink your coffee, and listen. Once upon a time—"

"Oh, but a real history if you please!" said Margaret.

"This is real," said Harriet, laughing.—"Must I not begin at the beginning? Well, if you like it, tout court. I am the youngest of the family. Mamma doats on me—Papa likes me very well. Charles, the one you have seen, is the eldest—he wears his glass in his eye—I do not think he has any other peculiarity. Then comes Lucy, she is a good girl, and I am very fond of her. I could tell you a secret that would a little surprise you; that is, if you have observed any of the bye-play of the last day or two."

"Oh, do!" said Margaret. "I really will keep it."

"I believe you!" said Harriet. "It shall come in due course. My second brother, Evan, is just called to the bar. He has a good deal of character, and is therefore my favourite. I should rather like you to see Evan. Alfred, the youngest son, is in the army; and there is the outline of a Baronet's family."

"It is very amusing," said Margaret. "I like better to hear real stories than to read them."

"For me," said Harriet. "I was very sickly as a child, and I spent most of my time with an uncle, who is very fond of me, and who lives in a romantic part of the country, and keeps up an old manor-house in the old English style. My uncle and aunt Singleton are both characters—but I can't stay to describe all my relations."

"Oh do! I like descriptions," said Margaret.

"Well. Aunt Singleton is the quietest little dormouse that ever was seen. She creeps about the house in her black silk gown, is as deaf as a post, and speaks in a whisper. My uncle is a keen sportsman; he taught me to ride, and drive, and angle; and established my health, without improving my manners. He is very proud of me, because he has made me what I am. People think I am trying to imitate Die Vernon, when I am merely following the pursuits natural to such a course of education."

"And how did you learn your lessons all the while?" asked Margaret.

"Never learned any;" replied Harriet. "I picked up French from a lady's-maid; Italian, from a music master, who could not speak English; and Spanish, when my father was Envoy at Madrid. I can speak and write these languages almost as well as my own; and this with a good deal of desultory reading, is the sum total of my education. I don't even know the multiplication table!"

Margaret laughed.

"You saw Lord Raymond on the course to-day."

"Yes," replied Margaret.

"He used often to pay my uncle a visit, and he always took the notice of me that men are apt to take of children. I used to ride with him and my uncle. I was very fond of horses and dogs, and enjoyed field sports as much as he did. Every visit he paid, Lord Raymond asked me if I would be his little wife; and I as regularly said, 'no, thank you.' I always thought he was unable to leave off any habit. He has just left off this one though."

"Has he?" said Margaret inquiringly.

"You shall hear. Well, when I was about seventeen, George Gage came to see my uncle. We took a vast fancy to each other; that is, after our fashion:—we were neither of us in the Romeo and Juliet school. Fools—as you can imagine."

Margaret's interest became very deep at this crisis.

Harriet threw her curls off her forehead, and went on.

"He admired my riding and my eyes, and, in fact, every thing I said and did. My uncle was contented; Captain Gage was pleased; we were said to be too young, and the affair was put off for a year or two. Never do that, by the way, if you care about the man. I like to mix a little useful advice with my tale, you observe."

"Why, I think," said Margaret, "that if his love would not last any time, it had better go before than after marriage."

"I thought," said Harriet, "that he had enough love to last to all eternity; but I was mistaken. And if he thought the same of me, he was mistaken too."

At these words she drew herself up proudly, and again scattered her short curls.

"He went off to his regiment; and the next thing I heard of him was that he was at the feet of a married woman—a lady famous for detaching men from their lawful allegiance, whether as husbands or lovers. This Mrs. Max—but we will not mention names."

"Mrs. Maxwell Dorset!" exclaimed Margaret starting up in her chair.

"What, you have heard of her?" said Harriet, "I believe she enjoys a pretty extensive reputation. Is your head worse? I have been talking too much for you, I am afraid."

"Not at all," said Margaret, leaning back again, "pray go on; and will you give me another cup of coffee?"

"You shall have it," said Harriet, "one need not forget to eat and drink; that is the last stage of that most deplorable folly—love. Well—I do not look like a person who would put up with such conduct, do I?"

"No," said Margaret smiling.

"I wrote immediately to George to signify that as he had made his choice, he might abide by it—that he was welcome to be Mrs. such a one's slave, but that I resigned every sort of claim to the honour. I thought he deserved a little better than Lazarillo de Tormes, who played the part of lackey to seven mistresses—the rascal—and at last was almost demolished by two viragos who contended for his services in the open street."

She laughed scornfully, and went on.

"This made rather a cabal in the family, you may suppose. Papa, who thought one daughter was disposed of, looked very blank upon my proceedings. Captain Gage—just like him—took my part. He said that George had behaved shamefully, and though he hoped it would all come right again, he could not wonder at my determination. But these things never do come right again, Margaret."

Margaret sighed.

"The strangest part of the whole affair was George's conduct. He had been, before this transaction, not at all better than his neighbours—and that is saying little enough for any man—indeed, as my good aunt told me, I might reasonably have expected what happened. My aunt was right, though I own, I could have called her out at the time for saying so. Well, he suddenly turned over a new leaf; renounced his extravagances, cut Mrs. Maxwell Dorset, and became quite a moral character. In fact, behaved as people are supposed to do upon an engagement instead of a repulse. This was all his pride; just to show me what an exemplary character I had thrown away."

"And you," said Margaret, "how did you bear it?"

"Very coolly, I promise you;" said Harriet, "I grew thin, and irritable, and so yellow that I was afraid to look at my own face in the glass. Aunt Singleton plagued me with asses milk. Uncle Singleton gave me a capital hunter. I don't know which remedy it was, but I very soon forgot all about Master George."

Margaret did not quite believe this, but she made no remark.

"Still," continued Harriet, "I was very glad when papa was appointed Envoy to Madrid. I insisted on going with him, and enjoyed our residence in Spain beyond all description. Just before we set out, Lord Raymond asked me again to be his little wife. I was not exactly in the frame of mind to feel pleased with his politeness; so I told him, that I was tired of having to answer the same idle question, and so took leave of him in a pet.

"We were two years at Madrid; when we came back, the first person I saw was Lord Raymond. I was afraid he was going to bore me again. Not at all. He took the first opportunity to tell me that Lucy had been more complaisant than I had; that they were engaged, but wished to keep it a profound secret for the present, while his pecuniary affairs are undergoing certain regulations. But that dog in the manger, George, thinks that Lord Raymond's attentions are directed to me; and cannot contain his malice on the subject, although it is certainly no concern of his."

"I do not wonder he thinks so," said Margaret, "I am sure I did."

"Yes! because poor Lord Raymond cannot pay Lucy the attention he would wish to do," said Harriet, "and because from habit, he has always been used to consider me as somebody that he ought to follow about, and make a fuss with; and as he is really kind-hearted, he fidgets about me ten times more, now that I have been very ill."

"And about your illness," said Margaret.

"Nothing romantic, I can assure you," said Harriet. "I went to see my Uncle Singleton on my return, and one day, having paid a visit to the wife of one of his park-keepers, a young woman who had formerly been my maid, and who was then ill, I had the bad luck to catch her complaint, which was typhus fever. You cannot imagine a greater bore; and I have lost all my hair you see, I have had both disorders, and I pronounce typhus fever to be considerably worse than the tender passion. I hope you may have neither. It is the best wish I can frame for you."

"Thank you for your wish and your story," said Margaret, "it is really a romance."

"That is the worst of it," said Harriet, "I am twenty, and I have already lived a whole life; there is no more excitement for me. I shall marry a country curate, and teach at Sunday schools, I think."

"What a great deal of romance there is in the world," said Margaret.

"True," said Harriet, "some writer says, 'that everybody's heart would be a romance if it were accurately delineated;' not everybody's, though!" she exclaimed with a peal of laughter, "that man who set next to me at dinner. What was his name?"

"Mr. Elliot," said Margaret, beginning to laugh in her turn.

"Aye, Mr. Elliot—fancy his heart!" exclaimed Harriet, bursting into fresh peals of laughter, "the keenest pang he could feel would be hunger; his most exquisite enjoyment a pocket-full of money. No, cry you mercy—there must be some exceptions to the poet's rule."

"On my word, you two seem to be very merry," said Miss Gage, coming in, "I hope not more merry than wise. How is all this to agree with your head, my dear Margaret?"

"Oh, I have been so amused," said Margaret, taking Miss Gage's hand, "that I have forgotten the pain. How beautiful you look, Bessy."

"Yes," said Harriet looking attentively at her, "that white gauze with corn-flowers, has a very tolerable effect. How well they look on your light hair; commend me to such a high tiara of flowers. It gives you the aspect of an empress."

Miss Gage laughed; and Harriet calling in the other ladies, commented upon them with as much indifference as if they had been a set of wax figures.

"There," said she, "what do you say to Lucy? Do you like pink crape, little one? It is very well made; but I prefer white for candlelight. Well, that is the most knowing little cap I have seen a long time, look Margaret; it is made of gold twist. Bravo! Miss Lawson Smith. That is an Indian fan, I suppose, Miss Selwyn. After all, I think Miss Somerton has the prettiest dress; those little bouquets are placed to a wish. Eh, Margaret!"

"They are all charmingly dressed," said Margaret, "pray, dear Bessy, remember to tell me all about it."

"I will, indeed," said Elizabeth, "I will try and recollect everybody's partners; and the different ices at supper. Those are the two leading features of a ball."

"Shall you dance the Mazourka, Bessy?" asked Margaret.

"I—no; I dance very little," said Elizabeth, "a quadrille or two, just for form's sake."

"She stands talking to her father," said Harriet, as soon as the ladies had withdrawn, "that is the way she spends the best part of the evening. I often wonder how Bessy can manage to keep single. She is so very much admired."

"How is it then?" asked Margaret.

"I suppose her father makes her fastidious," said Harriet, "indeed, I do not suppose she would easily find such a person as Captain Gage. I know two people now who would be very happy to die for her."

Margaret opened her eyes.

"Young Haveloc has been talked of for her; because they live in the same county," said Harriet; "but any child can see there is nothing in that quarter. By the way, he is very intimate with my brother Evan."

"Indeed," said Margaret.

"Well, good night, my poor little martyr," said Harriet; "I am heartily sorry for you, because, until you have tried, you cannot possibly know what a very stupid affair a ball is."

Margaret returned her farewell, and went to bed, her head full of races, Mr. Gage, Mrs. Maxwell Dorset, her white crape gown, and Bessy's wreath of corn-flowers.

CHAPTER XII

Margaret breakfasted with Miss Gage in her dressing-room the next morning, and heard all the particulars that she wished to know respecting the ball. She went down stairs about the middle of the day, and the first person she saw was Harriet Conway standing on the lawn outside the drawing-room windows, talking to Lord Raymond, while Hubert Gage and Mr. Conway were teazing her Skye terrier at a little distance. As soon as she caught sight of Margaret, she came to the window and greeted her.

"Quite well, really? That is right! No remains whatever of that unlucky head-ache? I hope devoutly the dog will bite you both!" she exclaimed, turning round to the gentlemen.

Hubert left the dog to its fate, and came up to condole with Margaret upon her disappointment of the last evening—his disappointment he ought to say; for he was sure that he had been the greatest sufferer on the occasion.

Margaret, knowing very well that he had been dancing, and enjoying himself all the evening, laughed, and said she was sorry for him.

Lord Raymond, who was just going off, took Harriet on one side, and seemed to be talking very earnestly to her. Mr. Conway joined Margaret at the window with the dog, and conversed with her in a very condescending manner; tried to persuade her to think Donald a great beauty, and told her how much money the little beast was worth.

While they were thus employed, Mr. Gage came into the drawing-room, and advanced leisurely to Margaret. He immediately caught sight of Harriet and Lord Raymond; but he was far too experienced to suffer any vexation to be traced in his manner. He made the most anxious inquiries after Miss Capel's health; regretted very much the loss their party had sustained on the previous night; abused the ball as intolerably stupid; and tried to persuade Margaret to allow him to drive her out after luncheon. He hoped now that she had seen how quiet his horses were, she would feel disposed to trust herself with him. He trusted that Miss Harriet Conway had inspired Miss Capel with a little of her courage.

Harriet, hearing her own name, turned round, and seeing George Gage, coloured, waved her hand to him by way of "good morning," and then renewed her conversation with Lord Raymond. His Lordship did not speak very fast; and like many people, the more he made up his mind to go, the farther he was from going. He had to say a great many things which he was very earnest in delivering, and which made Harriet laugh very much; and the bystanders would hardly have imagined that the substance of his narrative was the history of some tulip roots which his sister had paid a great deal of money for, and which, owing to some carelessness on her part, had never blossomed at all.

Meantime, while Mr. Gage talked to Margaret of the flower-show, he was watching every movement and look of Harriet's; and his patience was going by inches, while he appeared much interested in moss roses and Neapolitan violets. At last he said to Mr. Conway in a remarkably calm manner, that considering his sister was an invalid, it occurred to him that it was hardly prudent to stand out in a high wind without a shawl.

Mr. Conway laughed, said it was true enough; but that Harriet had a will of her own, and would not thank him if he interrupted her conversation for the minor consideration of a bonnet and cloak.

"What is that you say of me?" asked Harriet, running up to the window, having just parted from Lord Raymond. "Here, Hubert, stand out of the way, you are such giants, you Gage's. Give me my dog, Charles. Now, Margaret, if you wish to see a beauty—but what were you saying of me?"

"Merely remarking that it would have been unpardonable to break in upon your tête-á-tête to save you from the chance of another illness. I ventured to think that you were slightly clad for so cold a wind," said Mr. Gage, drawing his chair to the fire, as if in proof of the inclement weather.

"People have no business to think at all upon my proceedings," said Harriet, carelessly, "Hubert! I wish you would go and get Donald a little bit of meat on a plate; he ought to have his dinner about this time of day. My dog is not a dog in the manger," she added; drawing close to Margaret with Donald in her arms. "How frightened you look. He does not hear me."

"He will be worth nothing for sport if you nurse and pet him so," said her brother, "you had much better have a lap-dog."

"Now is not that quite a man's idea?" said Harriet laughing, "if you can make anything of use to you, well; but you have literally no notion of companionship. You judge everything by what it would fetch; and why you ever marry, I cannot think, unless you get some money by the bargain."

"Oh! that is too severe upon my word. Do not you think so?" said Hubert, turning to Margaret.

"I hope so," said Margaret, "but I have seen too little to judge."

"I cannot think that experience will ever make you judge hardly of others," said Mr. Gage in a soft voice to Margaret.

"Experience will tell her that to judge truly, is to judge hardly in five cases out of ten," said Harriet disdainfully.

"Luncheon is ready," exclaimed Hubert, taking Margaret's hand and hurrying her out of the room, "and a good thing too, for our discussion was growing rather stormy; and I have no objection to interrupt my courtier of a brother in his pretty speeches."

Margaret laughed as she took her seat at the table, and said she thought that pretty speeches ran in the family. She felt now perfectly at her ease with both brothers; feeling convinced that George was still attached to Harriet Conway, and that Hubert did not know what it was to be attached to any body.

"Oh, by the way!" said Hubert, as he drew a chair beside Margaret, "Haveloc would go off after breakfast. He made many inquiries about you, and was very sorry, as everybody was, last night. Bread! to be sure, I beg you a thousand pardons. Now don't starve; it is dreadful to see women eat so little, it reminds me of that story,—did you ever read the Arabian Nights?"

"Often," said Margaret, "you mean the story of the Ghoul. I do not mean to be a Ghoul to-day; you may give me some chicken."

"That's right," said Hubert. "Hallo! here is the Governor with that old wretch, Casement. How I wish Haveloc was here; he hates the old fellow so cordially. Don't you?"

"I am glad he is away," said Margaret, "for they always quarrel."

"You are an angel of peace," exclaimed Hubert, gazing at her with admiration.

"Pray don't be sentimental at luncheon," said Margaret, laughing, "it is so very inappropriate."

Captain Gage and Mr. Casement now came up to the table. Captain Gage took a vacant chair on the other side of Margaret; shook hands, and said a great many kind things to her on her loss of the ball; hoped it would not be long before there was another in the neighbourhood; wondered what people were about that they did not give as many dances as they used to do, and insisted on her drinking a glass of wine. Mr. Casement stopped short, and taking out his glasses, surveyed everybody at table with much deliberation; and odious as he was, there was something in his manner which showed that he had been used to a great deal of society, and that he held himself on a level with everybody he met.

"Hallo!" said he, "you have got a party together. How do you manage to keep them out of mischief; eh, Captain? There is something going on at your elbow there, as I'm alive. Eh, little woman! Shall I go home and tell uncle?"

Margaret coloured deeply. Miss Gage shook her head at Mr. Casement.

"Miss Gage, your most devoted," said he, bowing to her. "No, I never touch anything at this time of day—well, for once, give me a bit of tongue, little woman. Thank you, Master Hubert."

And not being able to express himself fully, under the kind but commanding eye of Miss Gage, he was obliged to content himself by making a face at Hubert and Margaret, which was intended to speak the contents of a whole valentine.

"And who is that curly-headed thing yonder?" said Mr. Casement pointing with his glasses to Harriet.

"My niece, Harriet," said Captain Gage, who was so used to hear Harriet call him uncle, that he forgot at the moment that their relationship was rather more distant.

"Niece—by Adam's side," said Mr. Casement. "Eh, Captain Gage! it looks rather suspicious when gentlemen call ladies their nieces—ha! ha!"

"Sir!" said George Gage, staring in his most arrogant manner at Mr. Casement.

"Eh! you there Master George?" said Mr. Casement. "I thought you could not get leave; really, when one considers what a farce the service is now-a-days, one is puzzled to know why you should not get leave, as you call it, every mother's son of you at once. What are you doing over in Ireland?"

George Gage seemed very little disposed to give Mr. Casement an answer; but after staring at him haughtily for a moment, he replied "Nothing." And then turning to his sister, he asked her some questions about her plans for the afternoon.

"Do you know, Uncle Gage," said Harriet, "that I am going to stay here a whole week longer?"

"The longer the better," said Captain Gage. "I wish you were all going to stay. The house will seem deserted when you are gone."