“So!” said Lady Angelica, to herself, “he will not see me.”
Rosamond was somewhat comforted for her disappointment, by observing that Caroline was not quite lost upon Mr. Barclay, pre-occupied though he was with his brilliant mistress. She thought he seemed to notice the marked difference there was in their manner of passing the day.
Lady Angelica, though she would sometimes handle a pencil, touch the harp, or take up a book, yet never was really employed. Caroline was continually occupied. In the morning, she usually sat with Rosamond and the two Lady Pembrokes, in a little room called the Oriel, which opened into the great library. Here in happy retirement Caroline and Rosamond looked over Mrs. Hungerford’s select library, and delighted to read the passages which had been marked with approbation. At other times, without disturbing the rest of the company, or being disturbed by them, Caroline enjoyed the opportunity of cultivating her talents for music and painting, with the assistance of her two friends, who eminently excelled in these accomplishments.
All this time Lady Angelica spent in talking to show her wit, or lounging to show her grace. Now and then her ladyship condescended to join the young people, when they went out to walk, but never unless they were attended by gentlemen. The beauties of nature have come into fashion of late, and Lady Angelica Headingham could talk of bold outlines, and sublime mountains, the charming effects of light and shade, fine accidents, and rich foliage, spring verdure and autumnal tints,—whilst Caroline could enjoy all these things, without expecting to be admired for admiring them. Mrs. Mortimer was planting a new shrubbery, and laying out a ride through the park. Caroline took an unaffected interest in all her plans, whilst Lady Angelica was interested only in showing how much she remembered of Price, and Repton, and Knight. She became too hot or too cold, or she was tired to death, the moment she ceased to be the principal object of attention. But though her ladyship was thus idle by day, she sometimes worked hard by night—hard as Butler is said to have toiled in secret, to support the character of an idle universal genius, who knows every thing without studying any thing. From dictionaries and extracts, abridgments and beauties of various authors, here, and there, and every where, she picked up shining scraps, and often by an ostentation of superficial knowledge succeeded in appearing in conversation to possess a vast extent of literature, and to be deeply skilled in matters of science, of which she knew nothing, and for which she had no taste.
Mr. Seebright, the poet, was easily duped by this display: he expressed the most flattering astonishment, and pronounced her ladyship to be an universal genius. He looked up to Lady Angelica for patronage. He was so weak, or so ignorant of the world, as to imagine that the patronage of a fashionable literary lady of high rank would immediately guide the opinion of the public, and bring a poet forward to fortune and fame. With these hopes he performed his daily, hourly duty of admiration to his fair patroness, with all possible zeal and assiduity; but it was observed by Rosamond that, in conversation, whenever Mr. Seebright had a new idea or a favourite allusion to produce, his eye involuntarily turned first to Caroline; and though he professed, on all points of taste and criticism, to be implicitly governed by Lady Angelica Headingham, there was “a small still voice” to which he more anxiously listened.
As to Mr. Grey, the roan of science—he soon detected Lady Angelica’s ignorance; smiled in silence at her blunders, and despised her for her arts of pretence. In vain, to win his suffrage, she produced the letters of various men of note and talent with whom she was in correspondence; in vain she talked of all the persons of rank who were her relations or dear friends:—she should be so happy to introduce him to this great man, or to mention him to that great lady; she should be so proud, on her return to town, to have Mr. Grey at her esprit parties; she would have such and such celebrated characters to meet him, and would have the pleasure and honour of introducing him to every person worth knowing in town.
With all due civility Mr. Grey declined these offers. There were few persons the pleasure or honour of whose company could compensate to him for the loss of his time, or equal the enjoyment he had in his own occupations; and those few he was so happy to have for his friends, he did not wish to form new acquaintance—he never went to conversaziones—he was much obliged to her ladyship, but he did not want to be mentioned to great men or great women. The nature of his fame was quite independent of fashion.—In this respect men of science have much the advantage of men of taste. Works of taste may, to a certain degree, be cried up or cried down by fashion. The full-fledged bard soars superior, and looks down at once upon the great and little world; but the young poet, in his first attempts to rise, is often obliged, or thinks himself obliged, to have his wing impelled by patronage.
With all her resources, however, both of patronage and of bel-esprit, Lady Angelica was equally surprised and mortified to find herself foiled at her own arms, by a girl whom nobody knew. She changed her manoeuvres—she thought she could show Miss Caroline Percy, that, whatever might be her abilities, her knowledge, or her charms, these must all submit to the superior power of fashion. Caroline having lived in the country, could not know much of the world of fashion. This was a world from which she thought she could move every other at pleasure. Her conversation was no longer of books, of which all of equal talents were competent to form a judgment; but her talk was now of persons, with whom no one who had not lived in the great world could pretend to be acquainted, of whom they could not presume to judge. Her ladyship tried in vain to draw Mrs. Hungerford and Mrs. Mortimer to her aid; they were too well-bred to encourage this exclusive and unprofitable conversation. But her ladyship knew that she could be sufficiently supported by Sir James Harcourt! He prided himself upon knowing and being known to every body, that is, any body, in London; he had an inexhaustible fund of town and court anecdote. What an auxiliary for Lady Angelica! But though their combined operations were carried on with consummate skill, and though the league offensive was strictly kept with every demonstration of mutual amity that could excite jealousy or express contempt for rival powers; yet the ultimate purpose was not gained—Caroline was not mortified, and Mr. Barclay was not jealous; at least, he was not sufficiently jealous to afford a clear triumph.
One morning, when she had been playing off all her graces, while Sir James admired her in every Proteus form of affectation, Mr. Barclay, as she thought, evidently pained by her coquetry, retired from the sofa, where she sat, and went to Mrs. Hungerford’s table, where he took up a book and began to read. Lady Angelica spared no art to distract his attention: she contrived for herself an employment, which called forth continual exclamations of admiration, joy, despair, which at first made Mr. Barclay turn to see by what they could be caused; but when he found that they were occasioned only by the rise or fall of a house of cards which she was building, he internally said, “Pshaw!” and afterwards kept his eyes fixed upon his book. Sir James continued to serve the fair architect with the frail materials for her building—her Folly, as she called it—and for his services he received much encouragement of smiles, and many marked commendations. Mrs. Hungerford called upon Mr. Barclay to read a favourite poem.
Mr. Barclay read remarkably well, and soon fixed the attention of all the company, except that of Lady Angelica and her knight, Sir James Harcourt, whom she detained in her service. She could not be so flagrantly rude as to interrupt the reader by audible exclamations, but by dumb-show, by a variety of gestures and pretty looks of delight at every fresh story added to her card edifice, and at every motion of terror lest her tower should fall, her ladyship showed Mr. Barclay that she was not listening to that which she knew he was particularly desirous that she should hear.