On the first visit which Vivian and his mother paid after the death of Lord Lidhurst at Glistonbury Castle, they found there a young man very handsome, but of a dark, reserved countenance, whose physiognomy and manner immediately prepossessed them against him; on his part, he seemed to eye them with suspicion, and to be particularly uneasy whenever Vivian either mentioned the election or approached Lady Sarah. This young man was Mr. Lidhurst, Lord Glistonbury’s nephew and heir-at-law. It was obvious, almost at first sight, that the uncle disliked the nephew; but it was not so easy to perceive that the nephew despised the uncle. Mr. Lidhurst, though young, was an excellent politician; and his feelings were always regulated by his interests. He had more abilities than Lord Glistonbury, less vanity, but infinitely more ambition. In Lord Glistonbury, ambition was rather affected, as an air suited to his rank, and proper to increase his consequence: Mr. Lidhurst’s was an earnest, inordinate ambition, yet it was cold, silent, and calculating; his pride preyed upon him inwardly, but it never hurried him into saying or doing an extravagant thing. Those who were not actuated solely by ambition, he always looked upon as fools, and those who were, he considered, in general, as knaves: the one he marked as dupes, the other as rivals. He had been at the Bishop of ——‘s, during Lord Lidhurst’s illness, and at the time of his death. Ever since Lady Julia’s arrival at the bishop’s, he had foreseen the probability of this event, and had, in consequence of the long-sightedness of his views, endeavoured to make himself agreeable to her. He found this impossible; but was, however, easily consoled by hearing that she had resolved never to marry; he only hoped that she would keep her resolution; and he was now at Glistonbury Castle, in the determination to propose for his other cousin, Lady Sarah, who would, perhaps, equally well secure to him his objects.
“Well! my dear Vivian,” said Lord Glistonbury, drawing him aside, “how d’ye relish my nephew, Marmaduke Lidhurst? Need not be afraid to speak the truth, for I tell you at once that he is no particular favourite here; not en bonne odeur; but that’s only between you and me. He thinks that I don’t know that he considers me as a shallow fellow, because I haven’t my head crammed with a parcel of statistical tables, all the fiscal and financiering stuff which he has at his calculating fingers’ ends; but I trust that I am almost as good a politician as he is, and I’m free to believe, have rather more knowledge of the world—
‘In men, not books, experienced was my lord’—
Hey? Hey, Vivian? and can see through him with half an eye, I can tell him.—Wants to get Lady Sarah—Yes, yes; but never came near us till we lost my poor boy—he won’t win Lady Sarah either, or I’m much mistaken. Did you observe how jealous he was of you?—Right!—right!—he has penetration!—Stay, stay! you don’t know Marmaduke yet—don’t know half his schemes. How his brow clouded when we were talking of the election! I must hint to you, he has been sounding me upon that matter; he has a great mind to stand for this county—talks of starting at the first day of the poll. I told him it could not do, as I was engaged to you. He answered, that of course was only a conditional promise, in case none of my own relations stood. I fought shy, and he pressed confoundedly.—Gad! he would put me in a very awkward predicament, if he was really to stand! for you know what the world would say, if they saw me opposing my own nephew, a rising young man, and not for a relation either; and Marmaduke Lidhurst is just your deep fellow to plan such a thing and execute it, not caring at what or whose expense. I can tell him, however, I am not a man to be bullied out of my interest, or to be outwitted either.—Stand firm, Vivian, my good friend, and I’ll stand by you; depend on me!—I only wish——” Here his lordship paused. “But I cannot say more to you now; for here is my precious heir-at-law coming to break up the confederacy. I’ll ride over and see you to-morrow;—now, let us all be mute before Marmaduke, our master politician, as becomes us—Hey! Vivian? Hey?”
Notwithstanding this sort of jealousy of Marmaduke, and the bravadoing style in which Lord Glistonbury spoke of him, he spoke to him in a very different manner: it was apparent to Vivian that his lordship was under some awe of his nephew, and that, whilst he cherished this secret dislike, he dreaded coming to any open rupture with a man who was, as his lordship apprehended, so well able to make his own party good in the world. When Marmaduke did emerge from that depth of thought in which he generally seemed to be sunk, and when he did condescend to converse, or rather to speak, his theme was always of persons in power, or his sarcasms against those who never would obtain it; from any one thing he asserted, it could never be proved, but, from all he said, it might be inferred, that he valued human qualities and talents merely as they could, or could not, obtain a price in the political market. The power of speaking in public, as it is a means in England of acquiring all other species of power, he deemed the first of Heaven’s gifts; and successful parliamentary speakers were the only persons of whom he expressed admiration. As Vivian had spoken, and had been listened to in the House of Commons, he was in this respect an object of Marmaduke Lidhurst’s envy; but this envy was mitigated by contempt for our hero’s want of perseverance in ambition.
“There is that Mr. Vivian of yours,” said he to his uncle, whilst Vivian was gone to talk to the ladies—“you’ll find he will be but a woman’s man, after all!—Heavens! with his fluency in public, what I would have done by this time of day! This poor fellow has no consistency of ambition—no great views—no reach of mind. Put him in for a borough, and he would be just as well content as if he carried the county. You’ll see he will, after another session or two, cut out, and retire without a pension, and settle down into a mere honest country gentleman. He would be no connexion to increase the consequence of your family. Lady Sarah Lidhurst would be quite lost with such a nobody! Her ladyship, I am convinced, has too much discrimination, and values herself too highly, to make such a missy match.”
Lord Glistonbury coughed, and cleared his throat, and blew his nose, and seemed to suffer extremely, but chiefly under the repression of his usual loquacity. Nothing could be at once a greater proof of his respect for his nephew’s abilities, and of his lordship’s dislike to him, than this unnatural silence. Mr. Lidhurst’s compliments on Lady Sarah’s discrimination seemed, however, to be premature, and unmerited; for, during the course of this day, she treated all the vast efforts of her cousin Marmaduke’s gallantry with haughty neglect, and showed, what she had never before suffered to be visible in her manner, a marked preference for Mr. Vivian’s conversation. The sort of emulation which Mr. Lidhurst’s rivalship produced increased the value of the object; she, for whom there was a contention, immediately became a prize. Vivian was both provoked and amused by the alternate contempt and jealousy which Mr. Lidhurst betrayed; this gentleman’s desire to keep him out of the Glistonbury family, and to supplant him in Lady Sarah’s favour, piqued him to prove his influence, and determined him to maintain his ground. Insensibly, Vivian’s attentions to the lady became more vivacious; and he was vain of showing the ease, taste, and elegance of his gallantry; and he was flattered by the idea, that all the spectators perceived both its superiority and its success. Lady Sarah, whose manners had much improved since the departure of Miss Strictland, was so much embellished by our hero’s attentions, that he thought her quite charming. He had been prepared to expect fire under the ice, but he was agreeably surprised by this sudden spring of flowers from beneath the snow. The carriage was at the door in the evening, and had waited half an hour, before he was aware that it was time to depart.
“You are right, my dear son!” Lady Mary began, the r moment they were seated in the carriage; “you are quite right, and I was quite wrong, about Lady Sarah Lidhurst: she has feeling, indeed—strong, generous feeling—and she shows it at the proper time: a fine, decided character! Her manners, to-day, so easy, and her countenance so animated, really she looked quite handsome, and I think her a charming woman.—What changes love can make!—Well, now I am satisfied: this is what I always wished—connexion, family, fortune, every thing; and the very sort of character you require in a wife,—the very person, of all others, that is suited to you!”
“If she were but a little more like her sister—or Selina Sidney even!” said Vivian, with a sigh.
“That very word even—your saying like Selina Sidney even—shows that you have not much cause for sighing: for you see how quickly the mere fancy in these matters changes—and you may love Lady Sarah presently, as much as you loved even Lady Julia.”