Lady Tilney, before the arrival of the personages she had written to (for Lady Tilney knew the value of intervals), arranged her list of engagements; tossing some into the fire—with the velocity of one well practised in the weight, measure, and value of names; and examining others of more importance. She determined to mar all that might interfere with her own views in society.—"Mrs. Annesly, truly what a griffin! and the Countess of Delamere, and Lady Melcombe!—but the Marchioness of Borrowdale! that indeed requires attention." Lady Tilney rang the bell—Destouches appeared in a minute—the peculiar hasty touch of call was known to the well-appointed page. "Send Arquimbeaud here!" and the distinguished Arquimbeaud soon obeyed the summons. "I have determined to have a party, Arquimbeaud, next Thursday; see that cards are issued for that day, according to this list."
As he withdrew, Comtesse Leinsengen was announced. The immense bonnet and deep veil—the splendid cashmere and still long petticoats (although they were generally worn very much shortened), afforded a favourable costume to the lady who now advanced; certain defects were thus concealed, and imagination might lend that delicacy of slimness and form to the feet and ancles which pervaded the rest of the person, but which did not characterize those of the Comtesse.
The rapid volubility of the one lady, and the sharp short sentences of the other, began the conference. Lady Tilney placed the most luxurious of all the luxurious chairs close to the fire, pushed forward the screen, and with the eagerness of apparent friendship, seemed to wish to make her visitor quite at home: or, as she expressed it, "deliciously comfortable." "You have learned that word now, dear Comtesse,—indeed you have adopted it; and there is no one who understands the thing so perfectly as yourself."
Midst all these courtesies and courtings the Comtesse observed a sort of abstracted air, though they were (and so far Lady Tilney was sincere) things of course.
"My dear Comtesse, I am so glad we have a minute alone, to discuss our plans. I have many things of consequence to say to you; but before I begin I must speak to you of that horrible affair of poor Lady Mailing's; it is quite impossible to support her any longer, for you are aware her secret is publicly known. So long as she was prudent, and observed appearances, it was all very well; but now it will be impossible for me to receive her. You know I never did receive any body who placed themselves in a similar situation—not even my own relations; my character has always been intacte, and I cannot compromète myself, though I am very sorry for poor Lady Mailing; and had she only avoided this esclandre, and managed her affair prudently, I would have stood by her to the end; but as it is—"
"Oh, certainly not," interrupted the Comtesse; "you must be conscious that every one knows Lady Tilney's high reputation, and it would never be supposed dat you would countenance a belle passion; vraiment, quand on est tellement dupe as to sacrifice sa position dans le monde, to a man's vanity, or to be playing de sentimentale at forty, it is quite enough to make one sick, and she well deserves to be vat you call blown. Mais, de grâce, do not let us prose more about her—vat sinifies?"
"Oh, very true, and then there are other matters of so much greater consequence to consider. Do you really think that this administration will hold—you who are in all the secrets?—positively you must tell me. I am sure if that man (lowering her voice to a whisper) is at the head of affairs, all must go wrong—poor England! what will become of you? But we will never allow that—shall we?"
"Oh! trève de politiques, ma chere, si vous m'aimez; it is a subject quite marital, and therefore, you know, not at all in my way. What I want to revolutionize, or rather to reform, is your state of society."
"Precisely, my dear Comtesse, it is the very subject on which I wished to talk to you, when I wrote requesting to see you—you received my note, did you not?"