“Why, I declare, my lord,” cried she, “I do not know but that it will be more friendly to explain than conceal my meaning. When once informed of the young lady’s views, your lordship may be able to convince her of that fallacy, and prevail on her not to lose another good opportunity of settling herself in consequence of them; in short, my lord, Miss Fitzalan, prompted by her father, has cast her eyes on Lord Mortimer. Presuming on your friendship, he thought a union between them might easily be accomplished. I do not believe Lord Mortimer, at first, gave any encouragement to their designs; but when the girl was continually thrown in his way, it was impossible not to notice her at last. I really expressed a thorough disapprobation to her coming to London, knowing their motives for desiring the excursion, but her father never ceased persecuting me till I consented to take her under my protection.” “Upon my word,” cried the marquis, who was not of the ladies’ privy council, though if he had it is probable he would not have objected to their schemes, “Captain Fitzalan must have had some such motive as this Lady Greystock has mentioned for sending his daughter to London, or else he would not have been so ridiculous as to put himself at the expense of fitting her out for company she has no right to enter.” “I never thought,” exclaimed Lord Cherbury, whose mind was irritated to the most violent degree of resentment against his injured friend, “that Captain Fitzalan could have acted with such duplicity. He knew the views I entertained for my son, and there is a mean treachery in his attempting to counteract them.” “Nay, my lord,” said Lady Greystock, “you are a father yourself, and must make allowances for the anxiety of a parent to establish a child.” “No, madam,” he replied; “I can make no allowance for a deviation from integrity, or for a sacrifice of honor and gratitude at the shrine of interest. The subject has discomposed me, and I must beg to be excused for abruptly retiring; nothing, indeed, I believe, can wound one so severely as deceit, where one reposed implicit confidence.”
The ladies were enraptured at the success of their scheme. The passion of Lord Cherbury could scarcely be smothered in their presence. On the head of Fitzalan they knew it would burst with full violence. They did not mention Belgrave; relative to him they resolved to affect profound ignorance.
The passions of Lord Cherbury were impetuous. He had, as I have already hinted, secret motives for desiring a connection between his family and the marquis’s ; and the idea of that desire being defeated drove him almost to distraction. He knew his son’s passions, though not so easily irritated as his own were, when once irritated, equally violent. To remonstrate with him concerning Miss Fitzalan, he believed, would be unavailing; he therefore resolved, if possible, to have her removed out of his way ere he apprised him of the discovery he had made of his attachment. He entertained not a doubt of Lady Greystock’s veracity; from his general knowledge of mankind, he believed self the predominant consideration in every breast. His feelings were too violent not to seek an immediate vent, and ere he went to bed, he wrote a bitter and reproachful letter to Fitzalan, which concluded with an entreaty, or rather a command, to send without delay for his daughter. A dreadful stroke this for poor Fitzalan.
“After all his wanderings round this world of care And all his griefs,”
He hoped he had at last found a spot where his latter days might close in tranquillity.
The innocent Amanda was received the next morning with smiles by those who were preparing a plot for her destruction.
Whilst at breakfast, a servant informed Lady Greystock a young woman wanted to speak to her. “Who is she?” asked her ladyship; “did she not send up her name?” “No, my lady; but she said she had particular business with your ladyship.”
The marchioness directed she might be shown up; and a girl about seventeen was accordingly ushered into the room. Her figure was delicate, and her face interesting not only from its innocence, but the strong expression of melancholy diffused over it. She appeared trembling with confusion and timidity, and the poverty of her apparel implied the source of her dejection.
“So, child,” said Lady Greystock, after surveying her from head to foot, “I am told you have business with me.” “Yes, madam,” replied she, in an accent so low as scarcely to be heard; “my father, Captain Rushbrook, desired me to deliver a letter to your ladyship.”
She presented it, and endeavored to screen herself from the scrutinizing and contemptuous glances of Lady Euphrasia by pulling her hat over her face.