CHAPTER XII.
Vivian, who had felt oppressed and almost enslaved by his compassion, breathed more freely when he at last found himself in his carriage, driving away from Glistonbury. His own castle, and the preparations for his mother’s arrival, and for the expected canvass, occupied him so much for the ensuing days, that he had scarcely time to think of Lady Julia or of Lady Sarah, of Russell or Selina: he could neither reflect on the past, nor anticipate the future; the present, the vulgar present, full of upholsterers, and paper-hangers, and butlers, and grooms, and tenants, and freeholders, and parasites, pressed upon his attention with importunate claims. The dissolution of parliament took place. Lady Mary Vivian arrived almost as soon as the newspaper that brought this intelligence: with her came a new set of thoughts, all centering in the notion of her son’s consequence in the world, and of his happiness—ideas which were too firmly associated in her mind ever to be separated. She said that she had regretted his having made such a long stay in the country during the last session, because he had missed opportunities of distinguishing himself farther in parliament. The preceding session her ladyship had received gratifying compliments on her son’s talents, and on the figure he had already made in public life; she felt her self-love as well as her affection interested in his continuing his political career with spirit and success. “As to the present election,” she observed, “there could be little doubt that he would be re-elected with the assistance of the Glistonbury interest; and,” added her ladyship, smiling significantly, “I fancy your interest is pretty strong in that quarter. The world has given you by turns to Lady Julia and Lady Sarah Lidhurst; and I am asked continually which of the Lady Lidhursts you are in love with. One of these ladies certainly must be my daughter-in-law; pray, if you know, empower me to say which.” Lady Mary Vivian spoke but half in earnest, till the extraordinary commotion her words created in her son, convinced her that the report had not, now at least, been mistaken.
“Next to Miss Selina Sidney,” continued Lady Mary, “who, after her positive and long persisted-in refusal, is quite out of the question, I have, my dear son, always wished to see you married to one of the Lady Lidhursts; and, of course, Lady Julia’s talents, and beauty, and youth——”
Vivian interrupted and hastily told his mother that Lady Julia Lidhurst was as much out of the question as Miss Sidney could be; for that he had offered himself, and had been refused; and that he had every reason to believe that the determination of his second mistress against him would be at least as absolute and unconquerable as that of his first. His mother was in amazement. That her son could be refused by Lady Julia Lidhurst appeared a moral and political impossibility, especially when the desire for a connexion between the families had been so obvious on the side of the Glistonburys. What could be the meaning of this? Lady Julia was perhaps under an error, and fancied he was some way engaged to Miss Sidney; “or, perhaps,” said Lady Mary, who had a ready wit for the invention of delicate distresses, “perhaps there is some difficulty about the eldest sister, Lady Sarah; for you know the first winter you were given to her.—Ay, that must be the case. I will go to Glistonbury to-morrow, and I will have Lady Julia to myself for five minutes: I think I have some penetration, and I will know the truth.”
Lady Mary was again surprised, by hearing from her son that Lady Julia was not at Glistonbury—that she was gone with her brother into Devonshire. So there was a dead silence for some minutes, succeeded by an exclamation from Lady Mary, “There is some grand secret here—I must know it!” Her ladyship forthwith commenced a close and able cross-examination, which Vivian stopped at last by declaring that he was not at liberty to speak upon the subject: he knew, he said, that his mother was of too honourable and generous a temper to press him farther. His mother was perfectly honourable, but at the same time extremely curious; and though she continually repeated, “I will not ask you another question—I would not upon any account lead you to say a syllable that could betray any confidence reposed in you, my dear son;” yet she indulged herself in a variety of ingenious conjectures: “I know it is so;” or, “I am sure that I have guessed now, but I don’t ask you to tell me.—You do right to deny it.”—Amongst the variety of her conjectures, Lady Mary did not find out the truth; she was prepossessed by the idea that Russell was attached to Selina Sidney—a secret which her own penetration had discovered whilst her son was abroad with Mrs. Wharton, and which she thought no mortal living knew but herself. Pre-occupied with this notion, Russell was now omitted in all her combinations. His having quitted Glistonbury did not create any suspicion of the real cause of his sudden departure, because there was a sufficient reason for his going to the north to see his sick relation; and Lady Mary was too good a philosopher to assign two causes for the same event, when she had found one that was adequate to the production of the effect. She therefore quietly settled it in her imagination, that Lady Julia Lidhurst was going to be married immediately to a certain young nobleman, who had been lately at Glistonbury whilst they were acting plays. The next day she went with Vivian to Glistonbury Castle; for, waiving all the ceremonials of visiting, she was anxious to see poor Lady Glistonbury, of whose illness she had been apprised, in general terms, by her son. An impulse of curiosity, mixed perhaps with motives of regard for her good friend Lady Glistonbury, hastened this visit. They found Lady Glistonbury much better; she looked nearly as well as she had done before this stroke; and she had now recovered her memory, and the full use of her understanding. Vivian observed, that she and Lady Sarah were both convinced, by Lady Mary Vivian’s curiosity, that he had given no hint of any thing which they did not wish to be known: and the pleasurable consciousness of his integrity disposed him to be pleased with them. Lord Glistonbury, on his side, was convinced that Vivian had behaved honourably with respect to his daughter Julia; so all parties were well satisfied with each other. His lordship answered Lady Mary Vivian’s inquiries after his son and his daughter Julia by saying, that Miss Strictland had just returned to Glistonbury with rather more favourable accounts of Lord Lidhurst’s health, and that Julia and he were now at his brother the Bishop of ——‘s. Between this brother and my Lord Glistonbury there had never been any great intimacy, their characters and their politics being very different. The moment Lady Mary Vivian heard Lord Glistonbury pronounce, with such unusual cordiality, the words, “my brother the bishop,” she recollected that the bishop had a very amiable, accomplished, and remarkably handsome son; so she arranged directly in her imagination that this was the person to whom Lady Julia was engaged. Being now thoroughly convinced that this last conjecture was just, she thought no more about Lady Julia’s affairs; but turned her attention to Lady Sarah, whose cold and guarded manners, however, resisted her utmost penetration. Disappointed in all her attempts to lead to sentiment or love, the conversation at last ran wholly upon the approaching election, upon the canvass, and the strength of the various interests of the county; on all which subjects Lady Sarah showed surprisingly exact information. Presently Lord Glistonbury took Vivian with him to his study to examine some poll-book, and then put into his hands a letter from Lady Julia Lidhurst, which had been enclosed in one to himself.
“I told you that I intended to rusticate Julia,” said his lordship, “with a poor parson and his wife—relations, distant relations of ours in Devonshire; but this plan has been defeated by my foolish good brother the bishop. On their journey they passed close by his palace; I charged Miss Strictland to be incog.; but they stayed to rest in the town, for Lidhurst was fatigued; and some of the bishop’s people found them out, and the bishop sent for them, and at last came himself. He was so sorry for Lidhurst’s illness, and, as Miss Strictland says, so much charmed with Julia, whom he had not seen since she was a child, that he absolutely took possession of them; and Julia has made her party good with him, for he writes me word he cannot part with her; that I must allow her to remain with him; and that they will take all possible care of Lyndhurst’s health. I believe I must yield this point to the bishop; for altogether it looks better that Julia should be at the palace than at the parsonage; and, though my poor brother has not the knowledge of the world one could wish, or that is necessary to bring this romantic girl back to reason, yet—But I keep you from reading your letter, and I see you are impatient—Hey?—very natural!—but, I am afraid, all in vain—I’ll leave you in peace. At any rate,” added Lord Glistonbury, “you know I have always stood your firm friend in this business; and you know I’m discreet.”
Vivian never felt so grateful for any instance of his lordship’s friendship and discretion as for that which he gave at this moment, by quitting the room, and leaving him in peace to read his letter.