Soon after this grand fête, the whole family set out for London; and Lady St. Aubyn, not satisfied with any superintendent of her nursery but Mrs. Bayfield, begged she might go with them, and be removed entirely from the more fatiguing post she had hitherto filled.
Jane, now called Mrs. Williamson, having been for some time under Mrs. Bayfield's direction, was placed in her vacant department, and another, somewhat more fashionable, lady's woman engaged to attend the Countess.
In London they met the new married pair, and the bride's fair sister, Lady Delamore, whose extraordinary beauty excited Ellen's admiration, while her likeness to the sweet departed Juliet involuntarily claimed her affection.
With such very agreeable friends, and under the respectable protection of Lady Juliana, Lady St. Aubyn found London a very different scene from what it had appeared to her the year before: she now possessed also a greater degree of confidence in herself, and having no longer any thing to fear, the gloomy hints of St. Aubyn, and her consequent dread, being for ever explained and removed, she felt a more cheerful flow of spirits, and enjoyed the amusements which were so amply in her power: yet still those spirits were softened by the most retiring delicacy; and those amusements, partaken with moderation and decorum. Still her high character stood unblemished, and even elevated in the public opinion; and the splendour of her beauty, which every one thought but now come to its full perfection, attracted none but respectful admirers.
The St. Aubyns frequently saw Lord de Montfort, who had purchased a house in town, and was living in very high style, though still under the direction of Mr. O'Brien, but evidently choosing to be more his own master than he had been in Spain, to which country he seemed at present to have no thoughts of returning; his grandfather's will having left him free to choose his own residence, though he was under a necessity of visiting Spain at least once in two years.
To Lord St. Aubyn he was polite, though distant: strangers could not have perceived any thing in his manner indicative of dislike or resentment; but those who knew what had passed, could at times discover a particular cast of his eye, a certain tone in speaking to the Earl, which marked a recollection, at least, of former enmity, and were by St. Aubyn hardly to be endured.
To Ellen he at all times shewed an attention so devoted, and his expressive eyes displayed so much admiration, that some of those who witnessed them began to fancy they had discovered the cause of that gloom which still overshadowed him, and had, from the time of his first arrival, excited the remarks of every one, and made him the object of the insipid jests and witless railleries of those who could conceive no cause but love for the dejection of a young man who could scarcely count the thousands which swelled his rent-roll.
Love! ill-star'd passion! doom'd vain scorn to bear,
To meet the busy mocker's idle jest;
Nor then allow'd its misery to declare;
Nor then indulge the woe but half supprest.
For of the pure, though enthusiastic attachment he felt for Ellen, such minds could form no idea.
One evening, at the play, whither Lady St. Aubyn went with a large party, amongst whom were Lady Meredith and several gentlemen in her train, they saw in the box opposite to theirs Lord de Montfort leaning against the side of it, in his usual state of gloomy apathy—his eyes half closed, his fine hair disordered, and his whole person expressing a sort of desolation, which waked emotions of pity in Ellen's gentle heart: she could not see him without compassion, he appeared so completely an insulated being, and even in the very morning of life, so totally without any kind connection or affectionate friend to soothe his melancholy—that melancholy, of which she so well knew the original cause, that, as she looked towards him, she could not forbear a sigh; and the sorrow she really felt appeared in her expressive countenance.