“Poor woman,” said Lady Delacour, “she will die soon, and then I shall have Helena upon my hands, unless some other kind friend takes a fancy to her. Who is this lady that has carried her to the Leverian Museum?”
“Lady Anne Percival; of whom she speaks with so much gratitude and affection, that I quite long——”
“Lord bless me!” interrupted Lady Delacour, “Lady Anne Percival! Helena has mentioned this Lady Anne Percival to me before, I recollect, in some of her letters.”
“Then you did read some of her letters?”
“Half!—I never read more than half, upon my word,” said Lady Delacour, laughing.
“Why will you delight in making yourself appear less good than you are, my dear Lady Delacour?” said Belinda, taking her hand.
“Because I hate to be like other people,” said her ladyship, “who delight in making themselves appear better than they are. But I was going to tell you, that I do believe I did provoke Percival by marrying Lord Delacour: I cannot tell you how much this Mea delights me—I am sure that the man has a lively remembrance of me, or else he would never make his wife take so much notice of my daughter.”
“Surely, your ladyship does not think,” said Belinda, “that a wife is a being whose actions are necessarily governed by a husband.”
“Not necessarily—but accidentally. When a lady accidentally sets up for being a good wife, she must of course love, honour, and obey. Now, you understand, I am not in the least obliged to Lady Anne for her kindness to Helena, because it all goes under the head of obedience, in my imagination; and her ladyship is paid for it by an accession of character: she has the reward of having it said, ‘Oh, Lady Anne Percival is the best wife in the world!’—‘Oh, Lady Anne Percival is quite a pattern woman!’ I hate pattern women. I hope I may never see Lady Anne; for I’m sure I should detest her beyond all things living—Mrs. Luttridge not excepted.”
Belinda was surprised and shocked at the malignant vehemence with which her ladyship uttered these words; it was in vain, however, that she remonstrated on the injustice of predetermining to detest Lady Anne, merely because she had shown kindness to Helena, and because she bore a high character. Lady Delacour was a woman who never listened to reason, or who listened to it only that she might parry it by wit. Upon this occasion, her wit had not its usual effect upon Miss Portman; instead of entertaining, it disgusted her.