Read Ebook: The Manoeuvring Mother (vol. 2 of 3) by Bury Charlotte Campbell Lady

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Ebook has 1107 lines and 62903 words, and 23 pages

"I don't believe he is warm-tempered," replied Clara, haughtily. "If I don't complain, no one need make any objection."

"Exactly so, my love; who can possibly judge of another's tastes? What I consider impetuous, another person may think simply vivacious, and so on. I think, my love, we will not say any thing to your father just now; suppose we allow the subject to remain in abeyance for a few days? Sir John has such very narrow views of worldly advantages; such peculiarly contracted notions upon the luxuries of life."

Clara differed from Lady Wetheral. She considered it better sense to state the circumstance at once to her father, since he must become a principal in the affair sooner or later. She would herself inform him of Sir Foster's proposal, and if his objections were not to be reasoned with, she must act for herself.

Such was Clara's determination, and such the intrepidity of her temper at sixteen years of age. Ungovernable in feeling, and haughty in disposition, she held powerful sway over her mother's mind; but it was yet to be proved whether her father also would yield to her domineering and intractable spirit. Lady Wetheral shrunk from the combat which must ensue between parental authority and filial disobedience; it would be a combat far surpassing the skirmish which preceded Lady Ennismore's engagement, for her husband had seen the error of his frequent compliance with her wishes, and his commands had been peremptory in the matter of Sir Foster Kerrison.

Clara's high spirit would not stoop to commit her mother, by acknowledging her active management in procuring the proposal, but it might transpire that she had a deep share in its contrivance; and she dreaded the calm bitterness of her husband's reproaches. Clara's temper was equal to a thousand storms, and a thousand untoward events: "Clara therefore must fight her own battle; she was fully equipped for the war of words which must ensue, and her lofty spirit scorned the alarms which subjugated meaner and more timid minds." Clara only smiled in contempt at her mother's reasoning.

Sir John inquired at dinner what had become of his young and agreeable friend Miss Kerrison, who had so suddenly disappeared. His lady's reply was perfectly satisfactory, and precluded all further remark: "Miss Kerrison had been summoned home by Sir Foster." The dinner passed in harmony, and on Sir John's part, with more than his usual vivacity. He seemed to feel relieved by the absence of all associations connected with Ripley. How little did he anticipate the blow which awaited the withdrawal of the servants, to fall heavily upon his heart!

Clara opened her subject with the indifference of a person who had quite made up their mind to all consequences, and dared every opposition; she raised her wine-glass to sip its contents with consummate nonchalance, and coolly commenced her disclosure.

"Papa, I think it right to inform you of any material step which I may take, therefore I beg to tell you I have accepted Sir Foster Kerrison."

Sir John appeared for a moment stunned. Clara resumed--

"Sir Foster Kerrison pleases me; and, though my tastes may clash with others, I alone am judge of what will make me happy; therefore, I have resolved to marry Sir Foster, papa."

Sir John's eyes were fixed upon his lady's face in silence. She read their expression, and shrunk under its deep meaning. A flood of tears fortunately relieved the painful sense of self-upbraiding, and proved a fruitful theme by which to evade the subject so galling to her husband's mind.

"Really, Sir John, I am so enfeebled by constant flurry of mind, and my poor dear girls' marriages, that a word or a look throws me into fits of nervousness. I cannot imagine why you should stare at me in that odd way, when I never could endure a fixed gaze; particularly when my spirits are low, and my nerves so shaken."

"Clara," said her father, calmly, "what events have led to your acceptance of Sir Foster? when did you accept him, and where have you met him since your sisters' nuptials? Tell me candidly how all this has happened."

"Oh! yes, certainly, papa. Sir Foster has been visiting me here some time."

"I never saw him, or heard of the visit, Clara," replied Sir John, mildly.

"You are always in your study, papa. People seldom ask for you now," was Clara's observation, as she helped herself to preserved strawberries with perfect coolness of manner.

"Gertrude," said Sir John, "you have concealed all this from me, and disobeyed my strong injunctions to allow no intimacy with Sir Foster Kerrison. Since my wife persists in opposing me, I cannot be surprised at a child defying me."

"I never asked Sir Foster to Wetheral," faltered the lady; "his visits were not the consequences of any invitation from me; you have never seen him here, my love: I never ventured to ask him to dinner: I never held out an inducement to attract him here. It has been Sir Foster's own act and deed to propose to my daughter; and his calling occasionally was very natural, while Lucy staid with us. You brought him in yourself one day; but really all this violent altercation destroys my nerves, and undermines my health." Lady Wetheral sunk back in her chair, closed her eyes, and applied her vinaigrette.

Sir John was silent for some moments, as if his thoughts and feelings were too powerful to produce utterance. Clara did not, or would not, perceive his emotion; she continued eating her biscuit and strawberries with calm unconcern, not at all disconcerted by the deep silence which followed her mother's speech. Sir John at length rose, and, with great solemnity of tone and manner, addressed his youngest daughter, who was seated a silent spectator of the whole scene.

"Chrystal, it is time for me to take some steps towards removing you from such examples. I shall accompany you to Brierly to-morrow, and place you, for the present, under Boscawen's care. He will take charge of you till I can claim you in peace. When I have deposited you in safety, I shall remove from Wetheral for ever. Your mother and sister will accompany me into Scotland, as I shall reside in future at Fairlee."

Nothing could exceed Lady Wetheral's terror at these words, spoken so calmly and so decidedly. She rushed towards her husband, and seized his arm with nervous trepidation.

"Don't go into Scotland, John! oh, don't go there, to horrid Fairlee! I shall die there--no, no; say you will not take me from Wetheral, and I will promise any thing, John!" Her ladyship's alarm became very powerful, and she sank to the ground. Christobelle would have flown to the bell to summon Thompson, but her father forbade the action; he begged that such scenes might never be disclosed to the eyes of the household. He raised her, and laid her on a sofa, but it was some time ere her senses returned. She wandered evidently for some hours in her conversation, and was at length placed in bed, under the influence of a powerful narcotic. Christobelle watched by her as she slept.

Sir John Wetheral felt all this most painfully; but he was now awake to the weakness of his conduct in placing such implicit confidence in his lady's system of education; he felt too late how indolently he had succumbed to her tears and reproaches against his own better judgment, even to the sacrifice of Julia; and now he was resolved to save Clara, at the risk of sacrificing for ever all future hopes of domestic felicity. Her ladyship's fearful apprehensions of Fairlee threatened an illness: but Sir John was firmly resolved to quit Shropshire; to leave at once the scene of deception which irritated his mind; to save, if possible, the fate which awaited Clara, should her evil genius give her into the power of Sir Foster Kerrison.

Christobelle was still watching in her mother's room, when she opened her eyes, and faintly called for Thompson. Christobelle did not reply, but walked softly to the side of her bed, to inquire how she felt after her long sleep. Her eyes were heavy, for she closed them as she spoke.

"Is that you, Thompson? I have had such horrible dreams: your master is going into Scotland, and poor Miss Clara will be taken away from Sir Foster, after all my trouble."

"It is me, mamma," whispered Christobelle.

"Well, well," replied her mother, petulantly, "never mind who it is, you are equally included in this dreadful Fairlee business. I shall never live to reach Scotland: the dullness of the place--no neighbourhood--all old married men--not a match there fit for Clara--altogether it will kill me."

A silence of some moments ensued, and she spoke again in low complaining tones.

"Your poor father's violence has made me seriously ill, Bell, and he must lay my death at his own door. Sir Foster has been extremely ill used, and all the neighbourhood will think so, after his proposal being accepted, and his attachment made so public! My poor child Clara! it is very cruel by her, and the affair has broken my heart."

There was again a pause, so continued, that Christobelle believed her mother slept; at last she heard her name pronounced.

"Bell."

"Yes, mamma, I am close to you."

"Perhaps, Bell, as you have influence with your father, you can find out his intentions with respect to Sir Foster. I can't think he would break off such a match, but I am too unwell to enter upon the subject with him now. Go down, Bell, and manage your father, as I used to do, only bring me some intelligence."

"Shall I ask the question for you, mamma?"

"Don't be stupid, Bell; ask questions? Nonsense! You will never get the truth from man by a direct question, foolish child. You know what I mean; now go and glean his intentions with cleverness; it will be practice for you; there, no reply, Bell; no sentimentality; I detest it!"

Christobelle left the room, not quite comprehending her mother's words. She could not understand the "gleaning," neither did she know the meaning of the word "sentimentality," but she went to her father's study, and found him in his arm-chair, the candles standing before him unsnuffed. It was nearly twelve o'clock when she entered. Her father held out his hand, and drew her to him.

"You are still up, my child, and it is very late."

She told him her mother had slept long, and was very anxious to know whether he really intended to quit Wetheral.

"Your mamma sent you to inquire, my love?"

She hesitated. "No, papa, not to inquire; mamma forbade my asking questions."

Christobelle hesitated again. She was not prepared for this close investigation.

"Chrystal, whenever you speak, let it be strictly in truth, and with open-heartedness; God and your father, my child, hate insincerity, and untrue lips; speak without fear, and without evasion. What is this all about?"

Christobelle became alarmed at her father's grave observation, and lost all presence of mind; she repeated at once her mother's injunction.

"Papa, I was told to glean your intentions, without sentimentality, that was all; only I don't know what 'glean' means."

"Go to bed, now, my dear child, and I will visit your mother," said her father, in a melancholy tone of voice, which surprised her. "You and I have a journey before us, Chrystal; the day after to-morrow we shall set out for Brierly; you will be useful to Isabel, and improved by Boscawen's society and tastes. Good night, and go to your bed, my love."

She went to her room, and slept soundly, innocent of wrong, and ignorant of the scene which took place in her mother's room, in consequence of her unfortunate disclosure. Christobelle was summoned to Lady Wetheral's bed-side after breakfast; Clara was seated reading near the window, and a small table covered with essence-bottles told her at a glance there had been strife. Christobelle was accosted with much irony.

"Peacemakers are desirable people, Bell, and, doubtless, your heart is enjoying the harmony you have created; pray advance, and behold your delightful work. Am I quite as miserable as you wish, Christobelle? or have you any little poisoned arrow to apply, by way of completing my distress? Pray do me the honour to inform me what my next annoyance shall be!"

Christobelle stood in astonishment; her mother was very seldom bitter in her remarks.

"I suppose you are not aware you have procured the dismissal of Sir Foster Kerrison, and may, probably, be the cause of your sister taking strong steps to assert herself. I suppose you are not aware you have made her and myself wretched, by your stupid matter of fact!"

Lady Wetheral laid down her salts bottle, and took up the vinaigrette; Christobelle could only weep, and plead ignorance of all intention of offending.

"Well, there's no help, now," continued her mother, changing her tone, and resuming the language of complaint. "You have done mischief, and you must endeavour to repair it. Your father intends to see Sir Foster to-day, and I am too ill to interfere; he will be violent, I dare say, for he has quite changed his nature, and his violence to me lately has been extraordinary; I know he will forget himself, and offend Sir Foster. Now, Bell, you must manage to place a slip of paper in Sir Foster's hand as he leaves the room, and do not make such mistakes as you generally contrive to do with your horrible matter of fact ways."

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