“And pray what had you, and Mr. Pelham, and Lord Fitzhenry to do with the fighting of the coachmen; and, above all, what in the name of wonder, had his chère amie, as the idiots call her, to do with it at all? whose carriage fought with yours? for I presume, you and your husband were together; surely you can sit in the same coach, though you can’t sleep in the same room?”
“I really can’t tell—it was all such a confusion,” replied Emmeline, colouring deeply. “But, dear father, don’t waste time, but, for pity’s sake, send some one to Grosvenor-street, and ask if all is well—and yet, perhaps,” added she, the next minute, alarmed at the possible consequences of her own suggestion, “perhaps it will be better not—it must be all a foolish story.”
“I shall go myself to Lord Fitzhenry’s,” said Mr. Benson, after a moment’s reflection.
“You go?” exclaimed Emmeline, terrified—“indeed there is no necessity—it is only a trifle—in fact nothing has occurred, only the carriage——I assure you, Lord Fitzhenry will be quite surprised to see you—perhaps displeased—indeed you had better not go.”
“I shall judge for myself,” said Mr. Benson, coldly. “I don’t believe one word about the carriage story; your husband would not be such a fool as to fight about a scratched panel; and as for his displeasure, I shall care little for that, for he seems very little to care for mine.”
This intention of her father’s seriously alarmed Emmeline; for, in the state of irritation, in which both he and Lord Fitzhenry then were, she dreaded the result of their meeting; and, clinging to Mr. Benson, she ejaculated—“Oh, then pray let me go with you!”
Brought up in the good old fashioned system of filial obedience and dependence, Emmeline, although the object of the tenderest affection, had no idea even now that she was a wife, of putting her will in opposition to that of her parents, or of boldly declaring any determination of her own. She could only entreat, and that her countenance did most eloquently, during the moment or two that now passed before Mr. Benson answered her. At length, he consented, saying—“Yes; I believe that will be best, for I shall by that means hear both sides.”
These words raised fresh apprehensions in Emmeline’s mind, for she saw that her father’s intention was to come to some explanation with her husband; and good, even kind as she knew those intentions were, yet she felt, that any interference on his part, particularly at that moment, would only widen the breach between them, and make her situation worse, by bringing matters to that crisis from which she shrank with dismay. She, therefore, said every thing she could venture upon, to induce him to desist; but her words seemed only to irritate him still more against Lord Fitzhenry, and to make him the more resolved on seeking an interview with him; so at last, finding how vain were all her arguments, and that having settled the matter in his own mind, Mr. Benson would listen to no excuse, no reason, that she could give for changing her opinion so quickly, Emmeline gave up the point in despair, and, in a short time, she and her father were on the road to town.
At first, the miles appeared to her to be endless, but, as they drew near town, dreading the possible result of their visit to Grosvenor-street, poor Emmeline was several times tempted to beg the driver might slacken his pace, but she controlled her nervous agitation as well as she could, and they drove on in silence, till they entered London; when she suddenly seized Mr. Benson’s hand, saying, with a look of entreaty—“If we see him, you will leave all to me,—indeed, he is no way to blame, only a misunderstanding, which I shall soon be able to clear up.”
“Ay, and it shall be cleared up,” replied Mr. Benson. “If you, Lady Fitzhenry, are content to let this vile slur remain on your reputation, I am not, and I shall oblige those who can refute it, to do so. I shall most certainly see Lord Fitzhenry, and I must from him get a better explanation of all this strange business, than I can from you. My God!” added he, after a moment’s pause, as if speaking to himself—“to think that my daughter’s name should appear in a public paper, with such an imputation attached to it! to think, that after all my labours, it should have come to this!” And, after striking his cane several times with impatience on the bottom of the carriage, he suddenly, as if he thought greater speed would relieve his feelings, bade the coachman drive faster.