"It's no use your attempting to deny it, Miss Carr, it convicts you at once of the very unpleasant and disagreeable fault of repeating slanderous reports. I hope it will serve as a warning to you to prevent such wickedness again."
"Upon my word, my lord, your Quixotism surpasses all ordinary bounds—do tell me what you will do next? Riding about the country one day to exculpate a girl who can be nothing to you, beyond a common acquaintance, and then sitting down to preach lectures to me, without fee or reward for it; I do not know how sufficiently to honour such exemplary greatness of mind."
"You are welcome to your wit and your eloquence, Miss Carr; I have neither wish nor pretension to equal you in the flow of words; but you cannot, even if you take the most round about form of expression possible, deny that you have been quite wrong in the whole affair."
"I am amazingly flattered by the extremely complimentary turn which your conversation takes, Lord Osborne. You seem to have benefitted by the superior style of society with which you must have associated at Croydon; really, your sister will hardly know you again. May I venture to enquire whether you have confided to the fair Emma—the heroic devotion and the extraordinary exertions to which she has inspired you?"
Lord Osborne, who was looking over the packet of papers which Miss Carr had tossed contemptuously back on the table, neither answered nor looked up; and the sudden entrance of Lady Gordon, prevented any further acrimony on the part of the young lady—who, as soon as she recovered her temper, became very sorry that she had spoken as she did, whilst under the influence of vexation and shame.
Lady Gordon appeared very glad to see her brother; though she declared she had always felt certain that he would return in time for her fête—she always had such good luck at her fête. Her astonishment was extreme when she learnt the end and object of his journey; and she certainly felt, besides astonishment, a considerable portion of secret annoyance, that he should have been sufficiently under the influence of partiality for Emma, to be roused to such an exertion. She, who knew him well, was aware how very strong must have been the feeling of interest which could incite him to undertake and carry through a task repulsive to all his former habits and tastes. It marked a very decided love indeed; and Rosa lamented the existence of such a partiality, even whilst rejoicing that its results were so favorable to the reputation of her friend. But, on the whole, she was growing more reasonable than formerly—like all women who love their husbands, she was adopting her husband's opinions, and beginning to think that Emma would be no disgrace to the peerage, were she ever to become a member of it; but that her brother's chance of winning her being small, his affection would not be conducive to his happiness. The astonishing degree of warmth he had manifested on the present occasion, shewed the state of his mind; but as for Emma herself, if she had read her feelings rightly, they were in favor of another object. Lord Osborne detailed to his sister the whole history of his exertions. He had gone to Croydon quite incognito—had established himself very quietly at the principal inn, and after bespeaking a dinner, walked down to call on the Vicar. To him he had detailed his object, and asked his advice, giving, as a reason for the interference of an unconnected individual like himself, the peculiar intimacy which existed between his sister and the young lady in question. Mr. Bridge had entered most kindly and warmly into his views, had pointed out the course he thought best, and made Robert Watson and his wife own that Emma had remonstrated against being exposed to meeting Mr. Morgan out walking, and that she had made no secret of the occurrence. It was not without great difficulty and adroit arguments that he had brought Jane to acknowledge the truth on this subject; only by representations of the necessity of clearing her own character, which she could do, by admitting, as Mr. Bridge knew was the case, that she had yielded to her sister's persuasions, and in consequence of them had abstained from sending Emma out with her little girl.
Having thus cleared Emma from the imputation of there being anything clandestine or intentional in her meetings with the doctor, a fact which the eldest Miss Watson could also corroborate, his next step was to see Lady Fanny Allston and learn from her who had been her authority for the slander to which she had yielded. Her ladyship was in town, but Lord Osborne, not to be baffled by such a circumstance, set off after her, and without waste of time presented himself in her drawing-room in London.
On his first application her ladyship denied all recollection of the circumstance, there were so many young women who applied for the situation of governess to Miss Allston, that she could not be expected to remember any of them after the lapse of so long a time as three or four months. But he was not to be so put off, and took so much trouble to remind her of the circumstances, that she was at last forced to admit that she could recal something about it. When in consequence he pressed for her authorities on the occasion, she laughed excessively at his heroic exertions in a cause which could not concern him in the least. What possible motive could he have she observed, for interesting himself in a girl whose state and circumstances were so obscure. A girl who was forced to go out as governess, what could he know about her—what ought he to know about her—a mere country-parson's daughter, without fortune or connections, it was ridiculous of him to be tearing about the country to vindicate her from a little country-gossip. His lordship must excuse her laughing at him for his knight errantry, but what mattered it whether the said Emma Watson had flirted with the doctor of Croydon or not, or who had said that she had, if she had not.
It appeared as if Lord Osborne's character had been totally changed under the influence of Emma's charms, or the excitement of his pursuit; indeed he owned to his sister it was as animating as a fox-chase, and that he enjoyed hunting up scandal-mongers excessively. Lady Fanny's ridicule, from which formerly he might have shrunk, could not now move him from his object. He answered her quietly, that the character of every individual was of value to them, and the more so in proportion to the less of wealth or importance they had. Her ladyship might, without scruple, forfeit her reputation for integrity, honour and justice, if she chose, by refusing what he asked, and thus robbing Miss Watson; and that the world, seeing she was Lady Fanny still, might consider it no great matter; but the case was very different with his sister's friend, who as Lady Fanny justly observed, had neither friends, rank nor fortune to gloss over the calumny, or support her through right and wrong, and who it was possible might depend on her character for her subsistence. But seeing that she was his sister's friend, and at this moment her guest, he was determined to see justice done to her, both for her own and his sister's sake; he therefore called on Lady Fanny, if she did not wish to be considered the fabricator of the false report herself, to acknowledge who was the author of it—for false it certainly was, as he had other means of proving.
After some attempts at prevarication, she at length owned that she had learnt the circumstances from Miss Jenkins, and she even at last produced and gave up to him the identical letter to herself which contained the whole tale, with a variety of circumstances which it was evident to any unprejudiced observer must have been entirely invention, as no one could have been witness to them, by the writer's own showing.