A train of servants in the spacious hall stood ready to receive their Lord and Lady. Amongst them was a respectable middle-aged woman, who, with deep respect, mingled with tears of joy and affection, addressed the Earl: he kindly and condescendingly took her hand, and said, "My good Mrs. Bayfield, I hope you are quite well: I am rejoiced to see you look so. See, my worthy friend, I have brought you a new Lady. Ellen, my love, I am sure I need not tell you to esteem my good housekeeper and nurse, for such she has been to me in much of illness and affliction." Ellen, with some kind words, offered her hand to Mrs. Bayfield, who, courtesying, received it with an air of the most profound respect. St. Aubyn also spoke with great kindness to the other servants, and then led Ellen into a magnificent library, which he told her was his usual sitting-room when at St. Aubyn's. Ellen, fatigued with her journey and the surprizing occurrences of the day, was not then able to do more than take a cursory survey of it; but she saw that here was entertainment and instruction enough to fill a long life, if even wholly devoted to literary pursuits.
In a few minutes a man of a venerable appearance, dressed in the cassock of a dignified clergyman, entered the library, whom St. Aubyn announced to Ellen as his friend and chaplain the Rev. Doctor Montague. "See, my dear Montague," said he, "this lovely creature, who has generously forgiven my appearing to her in an assumed character, and before she knew how much my real station was superior to that in which she first saw me, most kindly assured me of her perfect willingness to share my fate, be it what it might." He gave her hand to the good old man, who, clasping it between both his, said, "Pardon, Madam, this freedom in a man who has for many years felt the affection of a father for your excellent Lord." Ellen bent her knee to him as to a second Ross, whose blessing she had been accustomed to ask in that posture with Joanna. The venerable man understood the graceful appeal, although fashion has so long proscribed it to her votaries; and raising his hands and eyes, said, "God bless you, lovely lady, and you, my dear Lord, with her!"
St. Aubyn then said a few words in a low voice to the Doctor, to which he replied, "Certainly, my Lord: if you have the least doubt of the entire legality of your marriage, it will be far the best way: have you the licence?" "Yes, here," said the Earl: "examine it, if you please. Ellen, my love," he added, turning towards her, "are your spirits too much fatigued, or will you oblige me, by allowing Montague to read the marriage-ceremony to us: I have a special licence from the Archbishop, and it will not take many minutes?" Ellen bowed a silent assent; and Montague, saying it would be proper to have witnesses, proposed speaking to Mrs. Bayfield, and Thornton, Lord St. Aubyn's gentleman, on whose secrecy they might rely, as of course it was desirable not to have the transaction made public. He went therefore to them, and having told them all that was necessary, they immediately attended; and the marriage-ceremony being read, Montague prepared a certificate, which was signed by all present, and deposited in Ellen's care.
All parties seemed rejoiced when this embarrassing business was concluded, which though it gratified Ellen as shewing her Lord's extreme anxiety to satisfy any doubt she might feel, yet could not be agreeable to either. A Sandwich tray was soon after brought in, filled with refreshments: after partaking of which, Ellen and the wondering Jane were shewn to an elegant dressing-room, which communicated with a still more splendid bed-chamber, both fitted up with the most peculiar attention, not only to costliness and effect, but to convenience and comfort, as the contrivances for hot and cold baths, and every luxurious accommodation both here and in a gentleman's dressing-room on the other side the bed-room, sufficiently evinced. All Jane's profound respect for her Lady could not keep her entirely silent, nor repress the exclamations of wonder and delight with which she greeted every elegant article of furniture: above all, a rich service of dressing-plate on the toilette attracted her attention. "How beautiful, how costly! And here again, what fine glasses! Dear, my Lady, you may see yourself from head to foot; and so clear, they make you look, if possible, more beautiful than you really are!"
Ellen, nearly as little acquainted with such objects as her maid, was not sorry to have only this simple girl witness to her actions, which would have betrayed to a more practised observer that she herself hardly knew the use of half the splendid articles before her. She endeavoured, however, to assume a graver manner, and to keep Jane at a greater distance; but the good-natured creature mixed so much affectionate respect with her somewhat too familiar prattle, Ellen could not be angry with her: she dismissed her, however, as soon as possible, with a reiterated caution not to betray to the servants that she had ever known her under any other name than that she bore at present.
The next day Ellen took a nearer survey of her noble habitation: the height and size of the rooms, the splendid furniture, and rich decorations, absolutely bewildered her senses; and when in an immense mirror, which hung at one end of a superb drawing-room, she saw herself reflected from head to foot, she, like the innocent Zilia[2], actually fancied for a moment it was some elegant female coming to meet her.
Passing through this room, she entered one smaller, indeed, but fitted up with such exquisite taste, as quite enchanted her: the furniture and hangings were of pale green silk, lightly ornamented with gold; the ground of the carpet, pale green, worked with the needle in bunches of the most beautiful natural flowers, which really appeared to be growing there. The tables, chairs, candelabras, and every article of furniture, were formed after the antique, and caught the eye of Ellen by the perfection of their figures and disposition; so true it is, that what is really beautiful and in perfect taste will please the unpractised as well as the critical observer, provided the natural taste has not been vitiated by any false ideas of proportion and ornament.
On the Countess's expressing herself particularly pleased with this room, Mrs. Bayfield (who had undertaken to shew her the house, for St. Aubyn had been interrupted in his intention of doing so by Mr. Mordaunt, who brought him some papers of consequence to inspect), looking cautiously round, said, "If your Ladyship pleases, it will be better not to tell my Lord that you like this room in particular." "Why so, Mrs. Bayfield?" asked Ellen, struck with surprize at this request, and the manner it was made in. "Why, Madam," replied Mrs. Bayfield, "this room and the small one within were fitted up by my late Lady according to her own fancy, and were always called her drawing-room and boudoir; and since her death, my Lord has never liked the rooms." "Lady St. Aubyn then has not been dead long, I suppose," said Ellen; "for the furniture of these rooms appears almost new." "About seven years, Madam; but the rooms have scarcely ever been used: they were furnished not long before she went abroad with my Lord." "Was this beautiful carpet her own work?" asked Ellen. "Oh dear, no, Madam! my late Lady was of too gay a turn to do such a piece of work: it was my Lord's mother worked this."
"I thought you had meant your Lord's mother, Mrs. Bayfield: who then do you call your late Lady?" "My Lord's first wife, Madam, the late Countess of St. Aubyn."
"The late Countess—my Lord's first wife!" repeated Ellen, gazing at her with the utmost surprize: "I did not know; I never heard that my Lord had been married before." "Indeed, then," said Mrs. Bayfield, colouring, and looking vexed, "I am sure, my Lady, if I had known, or had the least idea my Lord had not mentioned it, I would never have breathed a word of the matter; but I know my Lord does not like to speak of the late Countess, for her death was so—so—sudden, and shocked my Lord so much, he has hardly ever spoken of her since; and I dare say that was the reason he never told your Ladyship he had been married before."