: The Manoeuvring Mother (vol. 3 of 3) by Bury Charlotte Campbell Lady - English fiction 19th century

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THE MANOEUVRING MOTHER.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

LONDON: HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.

LONDON: F. SHOBERL, JUN., 51, RUPERT STREET, HAYMARKET, PRINTER TO H. R. H. PRINCE ALBERT.

THE MANOEUVRING MOTHER.

Four years passed rapidly and tranquilly at Fairlee. The waters of Lochleven flowed at the foot of its undulating grounds, and the mountains of Glencoe terminated the grandly-beautiful and distant prospect which Christobelle gazed upon with untired delight, from the different points where she loved to sit in meditation, or employed herself in painting its glowing and ever-changing tints. Often did the forms of Anna Maria and Isabel appear before her, as she lingered upon the mountain-tops which overhung the lake, and watched the golden sun sink below the horizon.

Lady Wetheral's health did not recover the shock of Lady Kerrison's death. She sank gradually into an invalid: and, though she rarely visited the beauteous scenes around her, and never admired their grandeur, yet her thoughts rested no longer upon England. She was content to remain at Fairlee, exhausted in body, and depressed in mind. Her temper lost every trace of its former playfulness, and she dwelt constantly and bitterly upon the idea of Clara's ingratitude in not seeing her at the time of her decease. She told Christobelle the voice of Clara came to her in the dead of the night, and thundered in the wind which roared from the mountains. She saw Clara in her dreams ever pointing towards her, and exclaiming, "Oh! hard-hearted mother!" She declared to Christobelle that if her death should prove the consequence of such distressing visitations, she died by the hand of Lady Kerrison, and her ungrateful conduct would have been the means of destroying the author of her existence, and the contriver of her high and enviable establishment. She had indeed heard of ungrateful children; but little could she imagine she was herself to fall a victim to the daughters whom she had reared so carefully. Clara had died, and she expected Julia would be equally undutiful. Not once had she been invited to Bedinfield, nor was she even apprized of their flight abroad!

Such were Lady Wetheral's feelings; and her irritable and disappointed mind vented its bitterness upon the innocent Christobelle. The leading thought of her heart and the aim of her actions had ever been the establishment of her children, and upon her youngest daughter, now in the midst of suffering and solitude, did her anxiety rest. Christobelle was to beware of the sun and of the dew. It was ruinous to the complexion to sit staring for hours in a hot sun upon nonsensical views, and still worse, to roam about with a plaid round her shoulders, and a hat swinging to her arm, like a low-lived Scotch girl. Lochleven produced much gaiety in the autumn, as many families thronged to visit lake scenery; she would therefore feel obliged by Miss Chrystal paying a little more attention to her person, that she might not be recognized as Lady Wetheral's very vulgar daughter, or give occasion of remark to General Ponsonby's family. General Ponsonby, as a man of high connections, might probably have people staying at Clanmoray of some consideration; and she insisted upon her careful attention to dress and manners. She might meet gentlemen unexpectedly, and a young lady should be upon her guard. No man could be struck with a girl whose tanned complexion gave her the appearance of having tended sheep and goats upon the hill-tops.

In spite of Lady Wetheral's precautions, Christobelle met no gentleman "unexpectedly," nor were her studies interrupted by any people of consideration from Clanmoray. Letters from England told of Mrs. Tom Pynsent's increasing family; and Isabel's visit was deferred, year after year, by the expected death of Miss Tabitha, whose illness had proved long and suffering. She could not bear to hear or think of her brother's departure from Shropshire while she still lingered, and Mr. Boscawen had promised to close her eyes ere he quitted Brierly. Isabel's visit, therefore, must remain uncertain: she was the mother of three children, and her anxiety was very great to exhibit them all at Fairlee, and listen to the roar of the cataracts with Christobelle.

There was also news of Julia. The party had returned to Bedinfield, and Colonel Neville was still in the suite of the Countess-dowager; but few ever penetrated into the mysteries of Bedinfield. The Ennismores saw little company, and it was reported the establishment consisted chiefly of foreigners selected by the Countess mother. Colonel Neville remained desperately attached to Julia, and Lord Ennismore rarely quitted his apartments; his lordship was becoming extremely invalided, and Dr. Anstruther was superseded by a Florence physician.

Mrs. Pynsent wrote frequently to Christobelle, and from her chatty pen, Miss Wetheral received the home news of the south. "Every one," she wrote, "was pretty well except 'Bobby,' who looked very like a turkey with the pip, for his head was sinking between his shoulders, and his poor back got round. However, he played with the eldest boy, and left every thing to Tom, who--God bless him!--grew handsomer every day, and rattled over business much better than his poor moonshine father. Sally Hancock sat with him now and then, and her company was getting rather amusing to him: altogether, they were tolerably well at Hatton. Sophy Spottiswoode was married, and they talked of visiting Scotland with Sir John Spottiswoode; perhaps they would visit Lochleven and Fairlee, and see what was acting there and thereabouts. Sir Jacky seemed to wish to peep about Lochleven, for reasons best known to himself." Mrs. Pynsent ended by hoping Christobelle was not obliged to be in love with some red-headed Scotchman, because he was rich.

Sir John Wetheral twice visited Shropshire during his seclusion at Fairlee, but his daughter could not accompany him. Lady Wetheral's health detained her; and, during his absence, the magnificence of the country, its quiet grandeur, and its beautiful variety, could not recompense her for the misery she endured under continual and unabated reproaches, or the language of useless complaint, unceasingly uttered in doleful tones. Her ladyship considered her daughter's singlehood at seventeen years of age a severe blow upon her matronly cares. Up to the moment of her seventeenth birthday, Christobelle had never received an offer of marriage, or heard a comment upon her beauty, save in the somewhat coarse approbation which was bestowed by Mrs. Pynsent upon her growth at Hatton.

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