LADY SUSAN
PART 3
XI
MRS.
VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY
Churchill
I
really grow quite uneasy, my dearest mother, about Reginald, from witnessing
the very rapid increase of Lady Susan's influence. They are now on terms of the
most particular friendship, frequently engaged in long conversations together;
and she has contrived by the most artful coquetry to subdue his judgment to her
own purposes. It is impossible to see the intimacy between them so very soon
established without some alarm, though I can hardly suppose that Lady Susan's
plans extend to marriage. I wish you could get Reginald home again on any
plausible pretence; he is not at all disposed to leave us, and I have given him
as many hints of my father's precarious state of health as common decency will
allow me to do in my own house. Her power over him must now be boundless, as
she has entirely effaced all his former ill-opinion, and persuaded him not
merely to forget but to justify her conduct. Mr. Smith's account of her
proceedings at Langford, where he accused her of having made Mr. Mainwaring and
a young man engaged to Miss Mainwaring distractedly in love with her, which
Reginald firmly believed when he came here, is now, he is persuaded, only a
scandalous invention. He has told me so with a warmth of manner which spoke his
regret at having believed the contrary himself. How sincerely do I grieve that
she ever entered this house! I always looked forward to her coming with
uneasiness; but very far was it from originating in anxiety for Reginald. I
expected a most disagreeable companion for myself, but could not imagine that
my brother would be in the smallest danger of being captivated by a woman with
whose principles he was so well acquainted, and whose character he so heartily
despised. If you can get him away it will be a good thing.
Yours,
&c.,
XII
SIR
REGINALD DE COURCY TO HIS SON
Parklands.
I
know that young men in general do not admit of any enquiry even from their
nearest relations into affairs of the heart, but I hope, my dear Reginald, that
you will be superior to such as allow nothing for a father's anxiety, and think
themselves privileged to refuse him their confidence and slight his advice. You
must be sensible that as an only son, and the representative of an ancient
family, your conduct in life is most interesting to your connections; and in
the very important concern of marriage especially, there is everything at
stake—your own happiness, that of your parents, and the credit of your name. I
do not suppose that you would deliberately form an absolute engagement of that
nature without acquainting your mother and myself, or at least, without being
convinced that we should approve of your choice; but I cannot help fearing that
you may be drawn in, by the lady who has lately attached you, to a marriage
which the whole of your family, far and near, must highly reprobate. Lady
Susan's age is itself a material objection, but her want of character is one so
much more serious, that the difference of even twelve years becomes in
comparison of small amount. Were you not blinded by a sort of fascination, it
would be ridiculous in me to repeat the instances of great misconduct on her
side so very generally known.
Her
neglect of her husband, her encouragement of other men, her extravagance and
dissipation, were so gross and notorious that no one could be ignorant of them
at the time, nor can now have forgotten them. To our family she has always been
represented in softened colours by the benevolence of Mr. Charles Vernon, and
yet, in spite of his generous endeavours to excuse her, we know that she did,
from the most selfish motives, take all possible pains to prevent his marriage
with Catherine.
My
years and increasing infirmities make me very desirous of seeing you settled in
the world. To the fortune of a wife, the goodness of my own will make me
indifferent, but her family and character must be equally unexceptionable. When
your choice is fixed so that no objection can be made to it, then I can promise
you a ready and cheerful consent; but it is my duty to oppose a match which
deep art only could render possible, and must in the end make wretched. It is
possible her behaviour may arise only from vanity, or the wish of gaining the
admiration of a man whom she must imagine to be particularly prejudiced against
her; but it is more likely that she should aim at something further. She is
poor, and may naturally seek an alliance which must be advantageous to herself;
you know your own rights, and that it is out of my power to prevent your
inheriting the family estate. My ability of distressing you during my life
would be a species of revenge to which I could hardly stoop under any
circumstances.
I
honestly tell you my sentiments and intentions: I do not wish to work on your
fears, but on your sense and affection. It would destroy every comfort of my
life to know that you were married to Lady Susan Vernon; it would be the death
of that honest pride with which I have hitherto considered my son; I should
blush to see him, to hear of him, to think of him. I may perhaps do no good but
that of relieving my own mind by this letter, but I felt it my duty to tell you
that your partiality for Lady Susan is no secret to your friends, and to warn
you against her. I should be glad to hear your reasons for disbelieving Mr.
Smith's intelligence; you had no doubt of its authenticity a month ago. If you
can give me your assurance of having no design beyond enjoying the conversation
of a clever woman for a short period, and of yielding admiration only to her
beauty and abilities, without being blinded by them to her faults, you will
restore me to happiness; but, if you cannot do this, explain to me, at least,
what has occasioned so great an alteration in your opinion of her.
I
am, &c., &c,
XIII
LADY
DE COURCY TO MRS. VERNON
Parklands.
My
dear Catherine,—Unluckily I was confined to my room when your last letter came,
by a cold which affected my eyes so much as to prevent my reading it myself, so
I could not refuse your father when he offered to read it to me, by which means
he became acquainted, to my great vexation, with all your fears about your
brother. I had intended to write to Reginald myself as soon as my eyes would
let me, to point out, as well as I could, the danger of an intimate
acquaintance, with so artful a woman as Lady Susan, to a young man of his age,
and high expectations. I meant, moreover, to have reminded him of our being
quite alone now, and very much in need of him to keep up our spirits these long
winter evenings. Whether it would have done any good can never be settled now,
but I am excessively vexed that Sir Reginald should know anything of a matter
which we foresaw would make him so uneasy. He caught all your fears the moment
he had read your letter, and I am sure he has not had the business out of his
head since. He wrote by the same post to Reginald a long letter full of it all,
and particularly asking an explanation of what he may have heard from Lady
Susan to contradict the late shocking reports. His answer came this morning,
which I shall enclose to you, as I think you will like to see it. I wish it was
more satisfactory; but it seems written with such a determination to think well
of Lady Susan, that his assurances as to marriage, &c., do not set my heart
at ease. I say all I can, however, to satisfy your father, and he is certainly
less uneasy since Reginald's letter. How provoking it is, my dear Catherine,
that this unwelcome guest of yours should not only prevent our meeting this
Christmas, but be the occasion of so much vexation and trouble! Kiss the dear
children for me.
Your
affectionate mother,
XIV
MR.
DE COURCY TO SIR REGINALD
Churchill.
My
dear Sir,—I have this moment received your letter, which has given me more
astonishment than I ever felt before. I am to thank my sister, I suppose, for
having represented me in such a light as to injure me in your opinion, and give
you all this alarm. I know not why she should choose to make herself and her
family uneasy by apprehending an event which no one but herself, I can affirm,
would ever have thought possible. To impute such a design to Lady Susan would
be taking from her every claim to that excellent understanding which her
bitterest enemies have never denied her; and equally low must sink my
pretensions to common sense if I am suspected of matrimonial views in my
behaviour to her. Our difference of age must be an insuperable objection, and I
entreat you, my dear father, to quiet your mind, and no longer harbour a
suspicion which cannot be more injurious to your own peace than to our
understandings. I can have no other view in remaining with Lady Susan, than to
enjoy for a short time (as you have yourself expressed it) the conversation of
a woman of high intellectual powers. If Mrs. Vernon would allow something to my
affection for herself and her husband in the length of my visit, she would do
more justice to us all; but my sister is unhappily prejudiced beyond the hope
of conviction against Lady Susan. From an attachment to her husband, which in
itself does honour to both, she cannot forgive the endeavours at preventing
their union, which have been attributed to selfishness in Lady Susan; but in this
case, as well as in many others, the world has most grossly injured that lady,
by supposing the worst where the motives of her conduct have been doubtful.
Lady Susan had heard something so materially to the disadvantage of my sister
as to persuade her that the happiness of Mr. Vernon, to whom she was always
much attached, would be wholly destroyed by the marriage. And this
circumstance, while it explains the true motives of Lady Susan's conduct, and
removes all the blame which has been so lavished on her, may also convince us
how little the general report of anyone ought to be credited; since no
character, however upright, can escape the malevolence of slander. If my
sister, in the security of retirement, with as little opportunity as
inclination to do evil, could not avoid censure, we must not rashly condemn
those who, living in the world and surrounded with temptations, should be
accused of errors which they are known to have the power of committing.
I
blame myself severely for having so easily believed the slanderous tales
invented by Charles Smith to the prejudice of Lady Susan, as I am now convinced
how greatly they have traduced her. As to Mrs. Mainwaring's jealousy it was
totally his own invention, and his account of her attaching Miss Mainwaring's
lover was scarcely better founded. Sir James Martin had been drawn in by that
young lady to pay her some attention; and as he is a man of fortune, it was
easy to see HER views extended to marriage. It is well known that Miss M. is
absolutely on the catch for a husband, and no one therefore can pity her for
losing, by the superior attractions of another woman, the chance of being able
to make a worthy man completely wretched. Lady Susan was far from intending
such a conquest, and on finding how warmly Miss Mainwaring resented her lover's
defection, determined, in spite of Mr. and Mrs. Mainwaring's most urgent
entreaties, to leave the family. I have reason to imagine she did receive
serious proposals from Sir James, but her removing to Langford immediately on
the discovery of his attachment, must acquit her on that article with any mind
of common candour. You will, I am sure, my dear Sir, feel the truth of this,
and will hereby learn to do justice to the character of a very injured woman. I
know that Lady Susan in coming to Churchill was governed only by the most
honourable and amiable intentions; her prudence and economy are exemplary, her
regard for Mr. Vernon equal even to HIS deserts; and her wish of obtaining my
sister's good opinion merits a better return than it has received. As a mother
she is unexceptionable; her solid affection for her child is shown by placing
her in hands where her education will be properly attended to; but because she
has not the blind and weak partiality of most mothers, she is accused of
wanting maternal tenderness. Every person of sense, however, will know how to
value and commend her well-directed affection, and will join me in wishing that
Frederica Vernon may prove more worthy than she has yet done of her mother's
tender care. I have now, my dear father, written my real sentiments of Lady
Susan; you will know from this letter how highly I admire her abilities, and
esteem her character; but if you are not equally convinced by my full and
solemn assurance that your fears have been most idly created, you will deeply
mortify and distress me.
I
am, &c., &c.,
XV
MRS.
VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY
Churchill
My
dear Mother,—I return you Reginald's letter, and rejoice with all my heart that
my father is made easy by it: tell him so, with my congratulations; but,
between ourselves, I must own it has only convinced ME of my brother's having
no PRESENT intention of marrying Lady Susan, not that he is in no danger of
doing so three months hence. He gives a very plausible account of her behaviour
at Langford; I wish it may be true, but his intelligence must come from
herself, and I am less disposed to believe it than to lament the degree of
intimacy subsisting between them, implied by the discussion of such a subject.
I am sorry to have incurred his displeasure, but can expect nothing better
while he is so very eager in Lady Susan's justification. He is very severe
against me indeed, and yet I hope I have not been hasty in my judgment of her.
Poor woman! though I have reasons enough for my dislike, I cannot help pitying
her at present, as she is in real distress, and with too much cause. She had
this morning a letter from the lady with whom she has placed her daughter, to
request that Miss Vernon might be immediately removed, as she had been detected
in an attempt to run away. Why, or whither she intended to go, does not appear;
but, as her situation seems to have been unexceptionable, it is a sad thing,
and of course highly distressing to Lady Susan. Frederica must be as much as
sixteen, and ought to know better; but from what her mother insinuates, I am
afraid she is a perverse girl. She has been sadly neglected, however, and her
mother ought to remember it. Mr. Vernon set off for London as soon as she had
determined what should be done. He is, if possible, to prevail on Miss Summers
to let Frederica continue with her; and if he cannot succeed, to bring her to Churchill
for the present, till some other situation can be found for her. Her ladyship
is comforting herself meanwhile by strolling along the shrubbery with Reginald,
calling forth all his tender feelings, I suppose, on this distressing occasion.
She has been talking a great deal about it to me. She talks vastly well; I am
afraid of being ungenerous, or I should say, TOO well to feel so very deeply;
but I will not look for her faults; she may be Reginald's wife! Heaven forbid
it! but why should I be quicker-sighted than anyone else? Mr. Vernon declares
that he never saw deeper distress than hers, on the receipt of the letter; and
is his judgment inferior to mine? She was very unwilling that Frederica should
be allowed to come to Churchill, and justly enough, as it seems a sort of
reward to behaviour deserving very differently; but it was impossible to take
her anywhere else, and she is not to remain here long. "It will be
absolutely necessary," said she, "as you, my dear sister, must be
sensible, to treat my daughter with some severity while she is here; a most
painful necessity, but I will ENDEAVOUR to submit to it. I am afraid I have
often been too indulgent, but my poor Frederica's temper could never bear
opposition well: you must support and encourage me; you must urge the necessity
of reproof if you see me too lenient." All this sounds very reasonable.
Reginald is so incensed against the poor silly girl. Surely it is not to Lady
Susan's credit that he should be so bitter against her daughter; his idea of
her must be drawn from the mother's description. Well, whatever may be his
fate, we have the comfort of knowing that we have done our utmost to save him.
We must commit the event to a higher power.
Yours
ever, &c.,
To be continued
