French Clay was always near Miss Georgiana Falconer, or near Seraphina; and he applauded each by turns with all the raptures of an amateur. Mrs. Falconer saw that rivalship with the old earl and the young baronet had worked Mr. Clay into a passion for Seraphina; but she thought she knew how a passion for a singer must end, and as this did not interfere with her matrimonial designs, it gave her little uneasiness. Bets ran high in the fashionable world upon the three candidates. Mrs. Falconer had no doubt that the old earl would carry off the prize, as he was extremely rich, and was ready to make any settlement and any establishment. Her prophecy would, probably, have been accomplished, but that French Clay, strongly urged by the immediate danger of losing the lady, and flattered by Seraphina’s mother, who, in another style of life, was equal to Mrs. Falconer in address and knowledge of the world, was drawn in to offer what alone could balance the charms of the baronet’s youth and of the earl’s wealth—a week after the offer was made, Seraphina became Mrs. French Clay. Upon this marriage Commissioner Falconer hastened immediately to reproach his wife.
“There! Mrs. Falconer, I told you it would never do—There is another son-in-law who has escaped you!”
Never did Mrs. Falconer’s genius appear so great as in circumstances which would have confounded one of inferior resource. It is true, she had been thrown into surprise and consternation by the first news of this marriage; but by an able stroke she had turned defeat into victory. With a calm air of triumph she replied to her husband, “I beg your pardon, Mr. Falconer,—French Clay was only my ostensible object: I should have been very sorry to have had him for my son-in-law; for, though it is a secret, I know that he is overwhelmed with debt. The son-in-law I really wished for has not escaped me, sir—the elder brother, English Clay—Clay, of Clay-hall, I apprehend, you will allow, is rather a better match for your daughter; and his proposal for Georgiana, his relation, Lady Trant, was last night authorized to make to me in form. And now, commissioner, there is an end of your fears that your daughter should be left, at last, upon your hands; and now, I flatter myself, you will acknowledge that I always knew what I was about—mistress of Clay-hall, and of seven thousand a year—I think that is doing pretty well for a girl who has nothing.”
The commissioner was so much delighted, that he willingly permitted his lady to enjoy her triumph over him.
“Now only consider, commissioner,” she pursued, “if I had huddled up that match with Petcalf!—Petcalf, I’ll answer for it, in case of necessity, that is, in case of any difficulty on the part of Sir Robert Percy, I can turn over to Bell. Poor Petcalf!” added she, with a smile: “I really have a regard for that ever-lasting partner, and wish to leave him a chance of being partner for life to one of my daughters. I am sure he has reason to be excessively obliged to me for thinking of him at this moment—I must go to Georgiana and talk about wedding-clothes, laces, jewels, equipages—Mr. Clay, of Clay-hall, piques himself upon having every thing the best of its kind, and in the highest style—Happy—happy girl!”
“Happy—happy father, who has got her off his hands!” cried the commissioner.
“‘Twas my doing—‘twas all my doing!” said Mrs. Falconer.
“It was, my dear; and how was it brought about?” said Mr. Falconer: “stay one minute from the wedding-clothes, and tell me.”
Mrs. Falconer returned, and in the pride of successful intrigue explained all—that is, all she chose her husband to know.
Lady Trant was Mr. Clay’s near relation, and Mrs. Falconer’s intimate friend—how she had engaged her ladyship so zealously in her cause was the point which Mrs. Falconer did not choose to explain, and into which the commissioner never thought of inquiring. There are moments in which the most selfish may be betrayed into a belief that others act from generous motives; and the very principles which they hold infallible applied to all other cases, they think admit in their own of an exception: so Commissioner Falconer, notwithstanding his knowledge of the world, and his knowledge of himself, took it for granted, that, in this instance, Lady Trant acted from the impulse of disinterested friendship. This point happily admitted without question, all the rest Mrs. Falconer could satisfactorily explain. Lady Trant being a friend she could trust entirely, Mrs. Falconer had opened her mind to her ladyship, and, by her suggestion, Lady Trant had seized the happy moment when English Clay was enraged against his brother for his strange marriage, and had deplored that Clay-hall, and the fine estate belonging to it, should go to the children of an Italian singer: English Clay took fresh fire at this idea, and swore that, much as he hated the notion of a wife and children, he had a great mind to marry on purpose to punish his brother, and to cut him off, as he deserved, for ever from Clay-hall. Lady Trant commended his spirit, and urged him to put his resolution into execution—English Clay, however, balked a little at this: women now-a-days, he said, were so cursed expensive, that scarce any fortune could suffice for a wife, and horses, and all in style; and as to taking a wife, who would not be of a piece with the rest of his establishment, that was what he was not the man to do. Lady Trant answered, that of course he would wish to have a fashionable wife; that was the only thing that was wanting to make Clay-hall complete.