CHAPTER X.
The party left at the Castle, was too ill-suited to be particularly agreeable, and Sir William now and then privately complained to his wife of the dead weight which Miss Carr was in society where there were no young men present. She had so little conversation besides scandal, and so little occupation of any kind, that Sir William was extremely weary of her. She sometimes played a little on the harp, but she never did that with perseverance, or anything else at all. Her father had never allowed her to learn any species of needle-work, which in some shape or other forms the universal occupation and resource of women, because, he said, there were so many unfortunates who were compelled to earn their bread in that way, that it was unfair to take it out of their hands. With no taste for anything but the lightest species of literature, a novel was her only quiet resource, and in the country it was difficult in those days to procure a sufficient supply of new novels. Lady Gordon could only listen patiently to her husband's complaints; she did not know when Fanny and her foibles would remove; nor could she at all foretell when Lord Osborne and her spirits would return, though pretty well aware that they would re-appear together.
The only resource she could suggest was arranging a small party for a dance or some such amusement, as she had never said another word about the acting, which at one time had so occupied her mind. This would give her friend something to think of and amuse herself with, as she might arrange a new dress for the occasion; nay, if Lady Gordon could only unite a daylight and an evening party in one, she might have the happiness of preparing two dresses at least.
The prospect of such a pleasure revived Miss Carr, and she awoke to a full sense of the responsibilities of life, when so important a thing as a fête was in progress. Of what nature should it be, was the question, and one which occasioned as much amusement as could be hoped from the actual party. They had a great many different plans in their heads; fancy dresses—historical characters—costumes from the old family portraits in the picture-gallery, were all discussed with much warmth and animation. But every one of these proposals had so many objections attached to it. The difficulty of getting other individuals to enter into their views, and the impossibility of those unaccustomed to such scenes entering into them at all, were all suggested as impediments by Sir William, who had no fancy for any of their plans, and it ended in a much more simple arrangement. A collation in a marquée, in some romantic part of the park, bands of music stationed in favorable situations, to entertain them whilst eating; and the beauties of the glen, the echo, and the waterfall within a distance favorable for a walk, to amuse them afterwards. Then there might be the return to the Castle in the evening, and a dance afterwards, which would finish the day's pleasure, and afford a proper proportion of fatigue to all.
To settle on a picturesque costume for this occasion, became now the pre-eminent object of Fanny Carr's thoughts. Emma herself was under no uneasiness on that point, as Lady Gordon had taken the occasion to present her with a suitable and elegant dress, on the plea of making some compensation for the awkwardness of her brother on the occasion of the last ball at Osborne Castle.
Lord Osborne's return was delayed from day to day, by his finding more difficulty in his undertaking than he had expected; but as the course of his pursuit led him to London, he wrote from thence to his sister and gave her reason to expect to see him again before the fête day arrived. This was a relief to Miss Carr's mind, for although desirous of universal admiration, she was peculiarly anxious for his special attention and regard.
Fortunately for her she was gratified; as she was sitting in Lady Gordon's dressing-room the day preceding that for universal happiness, busily engaged in twining a delicate wreath to deck her hair on the festive night, Lord Osborne marched into the room, and suddenly laid down before her a packet of papers, which he was carrying in his hand. She gave a great jump and a little scream, exclaimed at his abrupt entrance, and enquired playfully if he meant to frighten her out of her senses. He replied quietly:
"Not in the least, but he knew there was no danger of that, as her nerves were sufficiently strong to bear a much greater shock."
But what in the world were those papers he had placed before her? what was she to do with them?
He told her to read them and they would gratify her exceedingly.