“Fear nothing! I fear nothing,” exclaimed Lady Angelica, “now you tell me, dear Mrs. Hungerford, that you do not doubt the reality of his love: all the rest I will answer for—trust to me, I know my game.”
Mrs. Hungerford sighed; and replied, “I am old, have stood by, and seen this game played and lost so often, and by as able players as Lady Angelica Headingham—take care—remember I warn you.”
Miss Caroline Percy came into the room at this instant—Lady Angelica went to her toilette to repair her charms.
CHAPTER XVII.
While Mrs. Hungerford was wasting her good advice upon Lady Angelica, Sir James Harcourt at his toilette received this day’s letters, which he read, as usual, while his hair was dressing. Some of these letters were from creditors, who were impatient to hear when his advantageous marriage would be concluded, or when he would obtain that place which had been so long promised. The place at court, as he was by this post informed by a private, very confidential letter, under a government cover and huge seal, from his intimate friend, my Lord Skreene, ministers had found themselves under the unfortunate necessity of giving away, to secure three votes on a certain cabinet question.
Sir James threw the letter from him, without reading the rest of his dear friend’s official apologies: “So, the place at court is out of the question—a wife must be my last resource,” thought he, “but how to bring her to the point?”
Sir James knew that though he was now in high favour, he might, at some sudden turn of caprice, be discarded or deserted by his fair one, as had been the fate of so many of his predecessors. The ruling passion, vanity, must be touched, and the obvious means of awakening jealousy were in his power. He determined to pay attentions to Miss Caroline Percy: his experience in the tactics of gallantry supplying the place of knowledge of the human heart, he counterfeited the symptoms of a new passion, and acted “The Inconstant” so well, that Lady Angelica had no doubt of his being what be appeared. She was not prepared for this turn of fate, well as she thought she knew her game, and at this unlucky moment, just when she wanted to play off Sir James against Mr. Barclay—and in an old castle in the country too, where no substitute was to be had!
Her ladyship was the more vexed, because Mrs. Hungerford must see her distress. Unused to any thing that opposed her wishes, she lost all temper, and every word and look manifested resentment and disdain towards her innocent and generous rival. In this jealousy, as there was no mixture of love to colour and conceal its nature, it could not pass for refinement of sentiment—it bore no resemblance to any thing noble—it must have been detected, even by a less penetrating and less interested observer than Mr. Barclay. His eyes were now completely opened.