LETTER XXVIII
MISS BYRON.—IN CONTINUATION SUNDAY, APRIL 16.
O, what a blank, my dear!—but I need not say what I was going to say.
Poor Emily!—But, to mention her grief, is to paint my own.
Lord W—— went to Windsor yesterday.
A very odd behaviour of Lady Olivia. Mr. Beauchamp went yesterday, and offered to attend her to any of the public places, at her pleasure; in pursuance of Sir Charles's reference to him, to do all in his power to make England agreeable to her: and she thought fit to tell him before her aunt, that she thanked him for his civility; but she should not trouble him during her stay in England. She had gentlemen in her train; and one of them had been in England before—
He left her in disgust.
Lady L—— making her a visit in the evening, she told her of Mr. Beauchamp's offer, and of her answer. The gentleman, said she, is a polite and very agreeable man; and this made me treat his kind offer with abruptness: for I can hardly doubt your brother's view in it. I scorn his view: and if I were sure of it, perhaps I should find a way to make him repent of the indignity. Lady L—— was sure, she said, that neither her brother, nor Mr. Beauchamp, had any other views than to make England as agreeable to her as possible.
Be this as it may, madam, said she, I have no service for Mr. Beauchamp: but if your Ladyship, your sister, and your two lords, will allow me to cultivate your friendship, you will do me honour. Dr. Bartlett's company will be very agreeable to me likewise, as often as he will give it me. To Miss Jervois I lay some little claim. I would have had her for my companion in Italy; but your cruel brother—No more, however, of him. Your English beauty too, I admire her: but, poor young creature, I admire her the more, because I can pity her. I should think myself very happy to be better acquainted with her.
Lady L—— made her a very polite answer for herself and her sister, and their lords: but told her, that I was very soon to set out for my own abode in Northamptonshire; and that Dr. Bartlett had some commissions, which would oblige him, in a day or two, to go to Sir Charles's seat in the country. She herself offered to attend her to Windsor, and to every other place, at her command.
Lady L—— took notice of her wrist being bound round with a broad black ribband, and asked, If it were hurt? A kind of sprain, said she. But you little imagine how it came; and must not ask.
This made Lady L—— curious. And Olivia requesting that Emily might be allowed to breakfast with her as this morning; she has bid the dear girl endeavour to know how it came, if it fell in her way: for Olivia reddened, and looked up, with a kind of consciousness, to Lady L——, when she told her that she must not ask questions about it.
Lady G—— is very earnest with me to give into the town diversions for a month to come: but I have now no desire in my heart so strong, as to throw myself at the feet of my grandmamma and aunt; and to be embraced by my Lucy and Nancy, and all my Northamptonshire friends.
I am only afraid of my uncle. He will rally his Harriet; yet only, I know, in hopes to divert her, and us all: but my jesting days are over: my situation will not bear it. Yet if it will divert himself, let him rally.
I shall be so much importuned to stay longer than I ought, or will stay, that I may as well fix a peremptory day at once. Will you, my ever indulgent friends, allow me to set out for Selby-house on Friday next? Not on a Sunday, as Lady Betty Williams advises, for fear of the odious waggons. But I have been in a different school. Sir Charles Grandison, I find, makes it a tacit rule with him, Never to begin a journey on a Sunday; nor, except when in pursuit of works of mercy or necessity, to travel in time of divine service. And this rule he observed last Sunday, though he reached us here in the evening. O my grandmamma! How much is he, what you all are, and ever have been!—But he is now pursuing a work of mercy. God succeed to him the end of his pursuit!
But why tacit? you will ask. Is Sir Charles Grandison ashamed to make an open appearance in behalf of his Christian duties? He is not. For instance; I have never seen him sit down at his own table, in the absence of Dr. Bartlett, or some other clergyman, but he himself says grace; and that with such an easy dignity, as commands every one's reverence; and which is succeeded by a cheerfulness that looks as if he were the better pleased for having shewn a thankful heart.
Dr. Bartlett has also told me, that he begins and ends every day, either in his chamber, or in his study, in a manner worthy of one who is in earnest in his Christian profession. But he never frights gay company with grave maxims. I remember, one day, Mr. Grandison asked him, in his absurd way, Why he did not preach to his company now and then? Faith, Sir Charles, said he, if you did, you would reform many a poor ignorant sinner of us; since you could do it with more weight, and more certainty of attention, than any parson in Christendom.
It would be an affront, said Sir Charles, to the understanding, as well as education, of a man who took rank above a peasant, in such a country as this, to seem to question whether he knew his general duties, or not, and the necessity of practising what he knew of them. If he should be at a loss, he may once a week be reminded, and his heart kept warm. Let you and me, cousin Everard, shew our conviction by our practice; and not invade the clergyman's province.
I remember that Mr. Grandison shewed his conviction by his blushes; and by repeating the three little words, You and me! Sir Charles.
***
SUNDAY EVENING.
O my dear friends! I have a strange, a shocking piece of intelligence to give you! Emily has just been with me in tears: she begged to speak with me in private. When we were alone, she threw her arms about my neck: Ah, madam! said she, I am come to tell you, that there is a person in the world that I hate, and must and will hate, as long as I live. It is Lady Olivia.—Take me down with you into Northamptonshire, and never let me see her more.
I was surprised.
O madam! I have found out, that she would, on Thursday last, have killed my guardian.
I was astonished, Lucy.
They retired together, you know, madam: my guardian came from her, his face in a glow; and he sent in his sister to her, and went not in himself till afterwards. She would have had him put off his journey. She was enraged because he would not; and they were high together; and, at last, she pulled out of her stays, in fury, a poniard, and vowed to plunge it into his heart. He should never, she said, see his Clementina more. He went to her. Her heart failed her. Well it might, you know, madam. He seized her hand. He took it from her. She struggled, and in struggling her wrist was hurt; that's the meaning of the broad black ribband!— Wicked creature! to have such a thought in her heart!—He only said, when he had got it from her, Unhappy, violent woman! I return not this instrument of mischief! You will have no use for it in England—And would not let her have it again.
I shuddered. O my dear, said I, he has been a sufferer, we are told, by good women; but this is not a good woman. But can it be true? Who informed you of it?
Lady Maffei herself. She thought that Sir Charles must have spoken of it: and when she found he had not, she was sorry she had, and begged I would not tell any body: but I could not keep it from you. And she says, that Lady Olivia is grieved on the remembrance of it; and arraigns herself and her wicked passion; and the more, for his noble forgiveness of her on the spot, and recommending her afterwards to the civilities of his sisters, and their lords. But I hate her, for all that.
Poor unhappy Olivia! said I. But what, my Emily, are we women, who should be the meekest and tenderest of the whole animal creation, when we give way to passion! But if she is so penitent, let not the shocking attempt be known to his sisters, or their lords. I may take the liberty of mentioning it, in strict confidence, [observe that, Lucy,] to those from whom I keep not any secret: but let it not be divulged to any of the relations of Sir Charles. Their detestation of her, which must follow, would not be concealed; and the unhappy creature, made desperate, might— Who knows what she might do?
The dear girl ran on upon what might have been the consequence, and what a loss the world would have had, if the horrid fact had been perpetrated. Lady Maffei told her, however, that had not her heart relented, she might have done him mischief; for he was too rash in approaching her. She fell down on her knees to him, as soon as he had wrested the poniard from her. I forgive, and pity you, madam, said he, with an air that had, as Olivia and her aunt have recollected since, both majesty and compassion in it: but, against her entreaty, he would withdraw: yet, at her request, sent in Lady L—— to her; and, going into his study, told not even Dr. Bartlett of it, though he went to him there immediately.
From the consciousness of this violence, perhaps, the lady was more temperate afterwards, even to the very time of his departure.
***
Lord bless me, what shall I do? Lady D—— has sent a card to let me know, that she will wait upon Mrs. Reeves and me to-marrow to breakfast. She comes, no doubt, to tell me, that Sir Charles having no thoughts of Harriet Byron, Lord D—— may have hopes of succeeding with her: and, perhaps, her ladyship will plead Sir Charles's recommendation and interest in Lord D——'s favour. But should this plea be made, good Heaven give me patience! I am afraid I shall be uncivil to this excellent woman.