Vellenaux / A Novel

by E. W. Forrest

With such zeal and good will did the lawyers on both sides work, that in less than three months from the death of Sir Ralph Coleman, Edith was in possession of Vellenaux, and Arthur had been recognized and installed as Earl of Castlemere, and master of Carlton Abbey, that being the name of the estate in Nottinghamshire, where the old Earl died.

Having thus succeeded to the title and estates of his forefathers, Arthur quitted his rooms in Albermarle Street, and located himself at his mansion in St. James' Square, which, although undergoing extensive alterations and decorations, had still a sufficient number of apartments in thorough repair and handsomely enough furnished, to satisfy the taste of a more fastidious person than our ex-Light Dragoon. It was really astonishing the number of visitors he had to receive, and cards and notes of invitation were showered upon him from people whose very existence he had previously never heard of, connections by marriage of the past generation crowded upon him, mothers with marriageable daughters invited him to their assemblies, young men of his own order sought to engage him in the various pursuits considered indispensable among those by whom he now found himself surrounded. When it became generally known that the new Earl was, beyond the possibility of a doubt, engaged to be married, the connections just mentioned thought it right and proper to recognize in Edith Effingham the future Countess of Castlemere; and, on learning that she was the niece of a baronet, and heiress, in her own right, to twenty thousand a year, she was sought after and made much of by the aristocratic relatives of her affianced husband, for the privilege of entering, as honoured guests, such places as Vellenaux and Carlton Abbey was not to be lost for the want of a little tact and polite attention to the bride elect, and so Edith's circle of female friends enlarged rapidly, and it was from among these that she selected the eight young beauties who were to act as bridesmaids on her marriage day, now fast approaching.

The Bishop of Exeter, who had been well acquainted with Arthur's father, offered his services on the interesting occasion, which were gladly accepted. Exactly at 11 a.m., the family carriage of the Bartons, containing Edith, Pauline Barton, and three of the bridesmaids, left Berkly Square. In a second were seated the other five ladies acting in that capacity. Then came the large, roomy vehicle of the good natured stock broker, occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Cotterell, Horace Barton and Mr. and Mrs. Denham, who had come up from Devonshire expressly to be present at the ceremony. Tom Barton and Cousin Kate accepted seats in the handsome barouche of the Ashburnhams.

The cavalcade reached Westminister Abbey just as the Bishop of Exeter, attended by two other clergymen, drove up. Quite a number of aristocratic equipages, with their occupants, had already arrived, and just as the bride was descending from her carriage, a handsome cabriolete, driven by the Earl of Castlemere; attended by his groomsman, Draycott, dashed up at full speed. Quite a large assemblage had gathered about the cloisters and aisles of the venerable structure, where it had pleased Miss Effingham to have the marriage solemnized, all anxious to get a glimpse of the wedding party, as they moved up to the chancel and took the positions assigned them in front and to the right and left of the altar, and a fairer scene than the one now presented to their view, had, by many been rarely, if ever, witnessed. The warm, ruddy light of a summer's sun, subdued by the gorgeously colored panes of the magnificent oriel windows above the altar, fell softly, yet brightly, on the richly dressed groups that composed the bridal party.

Attended by a bevy of young maidens, Edith, in the pride of her womanly beauty, now fully matured and developed, advanced with a firm step and knelt before the altar, her symmetrical and perfectly faultless figure appearing to advantage in a rich white corded silk, with its superb train of the same material, the whole trimmed with fine old point lace of the most costly description; nor did the exquisitely worked veil she wore conceal the tresses of golden brown hair that fell in luxuriant ringlets on her alabaster shoulders. The magnificent diamonds of the Begum encircled her fail brow, neck and arms, while pendants of the same precious stones hung from her small, shell-like ears, their brilliant prismatic hues shooting forth and glittering with lustrous and dazzling brilliancy at each movement of the wearer; but far brighter than all was the glorious rays of the light of love and joy that danced and scintilated in the deep blue eyes of the bride as she stood forth and plighted her troth to him she so fondly and devotedly loved, and the face of the handsome Earl beamed with unclouded happiness as he placed the small golden circle on the finger of his future Countess.

The ceremony was not a long, but an impressive one. The bridal anthem was beautifully rendered by the choristers, accompanied by the clear, full, deep tones of the grand old organ. As the clock in the square tower was striking twelve the whole party left the Abbey, and were driven to the Earl's mansion in Saint James' Square, where a luxurious repast was prepared for them, to which ample justice was done. At two, the Earl and Countess stepped into their traveling carriage and were whirled off to Brighton, from which point they were to start on their bridal tour through Continental Europe.

The Bartons and Cotterells left town a few days later for their homes in Devonshire, where they hoped to be comfortably settled ere the honeymoon of the happy couple should have terminated, as it was the desire of all concerned to give them an enthusiastic welcome on their return, and arrangements and preparations were at once entered upon to make the occasion one of general rejoicing and festivity, and a general holiday to all in and around Vellenaux.

CHAPTER XX.

The city of Madras, the seat of Government and Capital of the Presidency of that name, although not possessing all the facilities for an agreeable sojourn to the lover of pleasure and amusement that may be found at the capitals of the sister Presidencies—Bengal and Bombay—it having neither the healthy climate of the one, or the wealth of the other. Yet there are times and seasons when Madras is very enjoyable: just after the south-west monsoons, when all nature is clothed in verdant beauty, and a delightful coolness pervades the air, the Neilgerie Hills cannot be surpassed by those of Mahableshwa or any other sanitary station in India, even the Capital itself, whose shores are washed by the boiling surf from over the triple reefs of rocks during the rainy season; but that time being past, a more tranquil state of things pervades the ocean, and cool sea breezes waft over the city. At the time of which I am writing, Madras was more than usually gay, several vessels of war were in port and a number of crack corps had arrived from Europe and elsewhere, officered by a set of men whose fathers and great-grandfathers before them had served their country either in the army or navy; they served not for pay but for honor, and to uphold the high and honourable name bequeathed them by their ancestors. Many of these came into the regiment not to save but to spend money, and it was surprising to the calculating natives the enormous sums they managed to get through during their short stay at any of the large towns or stations where Europeans do most congregate.

The stream of fashionable life was now at its height, now in full force when Lady Chutny's magnificent bungalow was thrown open for receptions; and it was not long before the fame of her ladyship's fetes and assemblies spread far and wide. Sir Lexicon was known to be exceedingly wealthy, and it will be remembered that Mrs. Fraudhurst, on quitting England, had drawn out of the bank her capital of ten thousand rounds. This sum, together with a large amount given her by the planter for the express purpose of giving entertainments in town, had been paid into the bank of Madras, in Lady Chutny's name. The sum was actually only one lae and a half of rupees, but dame rumour, with her hundred tongues, had quadrupled it.