Lady Vernon and Her Daughter: A Novel of Jane Austen's Lady Susan Page 10

  I can think of no other reason for her coming to us, and though she expresses a most eager desire of being acquainted with me and makes very generous mention of my children, I am not weak enough to suppose that she disposes her own child in town so that she may engage the affections of mine. I cannot forgive her artful and ungenerous opposition to my marriage—no one could overlook it, save for one as amiable as Mr. Vernon. Mr. Vernon will think kindly of her, but he is disposed to think well of everyone, and I have no doubt that his own grief has softened his heart toward his late brother’s widow.

  I am very glad to hear that my father’s health has not declined to any great degree and I am, with best love, etc.,

  Catherine Vernon

  When Lady deCourcy heard of the alteration in plans, she wrote to her daughter in language that could not conceal her anger and frustration, directing all of her resentment against Lady Vernon. We shall at least have Reginald with us, she added.

  And Lord and Lady Hamilton will come with your cousins, which will bring your brother together with Lavinia. Reginald has been so provoking of late—going here and going there, and behaving as though all of our expectations are of no significance. If we get them together for a few weeks, I have no doubt that matters will be settled before the new year.

  Mrs. Vernon read this letter to her husband and expressed her relief that her parents would not be completely alone at Christmas, and said how likely it was that it would be the last Christmas season her father would see, which would make the presence of at least one of his children a great source of pleasure.

  Vernon was not equally pleased. Sir Reginald’s frail health had been among his wife’s most amiable attractions, as it was likely that the demise of so fond a father would bring them something in the way of a bequest. That he would have hung on into the seventh year of the Vernons’ marriage was, to Vernon’s thinking, an example of the deCourcy obstinacy.

  Vernon had other reasons to reflect upon his father-in-law’s demise, for the deCourcy estate had not been entailed entirely from the female line. Only Sir Reginald’s son and brother barred Parklands from going to Vernon’s eldest son. As far as Lewis deCourcy was concerned, Vernon had no anxiety. He was a bachelor of long standing and it was inconceivable that in his middle fifties he would marry, or bring forth an heir if he did. Reginald, however, was a more troublesome prospect. A union with Lavinia Hamilton was being urged upon him, one that would likely put a succession of deCourcys between Vernon’s son and a property worth a clear twelve thousand per annum. To have Reginald single, therefore, was a matter of some consequence to Vernon, and if the burden of responsibility had lessened the charms of his present situation, it had not kept him from wanting more.

  To Reginald’s credit, he had thus far avoided matrimony as deftly as any young man will when he has plenty of money and no reason to hurry himself into wedlock, but Vernon imagined that a family Christmas at Parklands, with all of the warmth of feeling that the season will generally produce, would weaken Reginald’s resolve and end with an engagement.

  Charles was fairly certain that Reginald’s fondness for sport, and his attachment to Catherine and the children, would bring him to Churchill Manor, but when Mrs. Vernon next received a letter from her brother, there was mention of the particular inducement that had persuaded the young man to make the journey to Sussex.

  Vernon was determined to thwart such a prospect by inviting Reginald to Churchill Manor. Charles wrote:

  We must receive my sister, Lady Vernon. As the necessity of this will keep us at Churchill, I hope that you will not deny your sister the pleasure of having you with us. I would not deprive my good in-laws of your company had I not been assured that they will have Lord and Lady Hamilton and the Misses Hamilton with them. The weather has been so remarkably mild that I ride out every day. The countryside is excellent for a gallop if one’s mount is not timid, and there will be some excellent pheasant shooting for many weeks more.

  Charles was fairly certain that Reginald’s fondness for sport, and his attachment to Catherine and the children, would bring him to Churchill Manor, but when Mrs. Vernon next received a letter from her brother, there was mention of the particular inducement that had persuaded the young man to make the journey to Sussex.

  Mr. deCourcy to Mrs. Vernon

  Bennet Street, Bath

  My dear sister,

  I congratulate you and Mr. Vernon on receiving into your family the most accomplished coquette in England. I can have no kind feelings toward one who so energetically opposed your marriage to Mr. Vernon, and it has lately fallen in my way to hear some particulars of her conduct at Langford, which proves that she does not confine herself to that sort of honest flirtation that satisfies most people but aspires to the more delicious gratification of making a whole family miserable. By her behavior to Manwaring, she gave jealousy and wretchedness to his wife, and by her attentions to Sir James Martin, she deprived Miss Manwaring of a suitor. I learned all of this from Charles Smith, who passed a fortnight at Langford, and who is therefore well qualified to communicate the particulars of Lady Vernon’s conduct.

  I shall certainly accept your kind invitation, for though I had resolved against any introduction to Lady Vernon, I confess that I long to see her so that I may form my own idea of the sort of bewitching powers that can engage, at the same time and in the same house, the interest of two so very different men as Robert Manwaring and Sir James Martin (though, in the latter case, her motivation was to secure him for Miss Vernon).

  I am glad that she does not come with her mother to Churchill, as, according to Charles Smith, she is dull and proud and has not even manners to recommend her. When pride and stupidity are united, they will inspire such unrelenting contempt that even the simulation of notice is too great an exertion, but where pride is joined with the sort of captivating deceit as Lady Vernon is said to possess, the opportunity to witness it cannot be declined.

  I shall be with you very soon, and am,

  Your affectionate brother,

  Reginald deCourcy

  This letter was the first information that Mrs. Vernon had of her husband’s invitation to Reginald. She was very surprised, but she was so used to being indulged that she supposed Charles’s real motive was to console her for the loss of a Christmas at Parklands, and to appease her for having to put up with Lady Vernon. This absolute assurance that affection for her had been uppermost in everyone’s mind very nearly reconciled Mrs. Vernon to the inconvenience of hospitality.

  chapter twenty-one

  Catherine Vernon had been bred to think of herself as a woman of fashion, but a weak understanding and the indulgence of a fond mother had left her susceptible to think too well of herself and too meanly of others.

  She went down to meet Lady Vernon’s carriage with a determination to be perfectly civil, and yet her greeting was lacking in the warmth and cordiality that might persuade Lady Vernon that they sprang from any genuine feeling. Persuaded as she was that Lady Vernon had objected to her marriage, Catherine might be excused for some coolness, and yet where there is a disposition to dislike, a motive will never be wanting.

  Catherine anticipated that her own coolness would be reciprocated, for she quite expected to find Lady Vernon to be a dangerous, cold, and forbidding sort of creature, and was very surprised to find her excessively pretty, with such a union of symmetry, brilliance, and grace that she might have been taken for a woman of no more than five and twenty.

  When Catherine ushered Lady Vernon into the sitting room, Lady Vernon made mention of some minor alteration in furnishings and complimented her sister-in-law’s taste. She then thanked Catherine for receiving her and added, “I am not apt, my dear Mrs. Vernon, to affect sensations unfamiliar to my heart, and therefore I trust that you will believe me when I declare that as much as I had heard in your praise before this meeting, I see that it was very short of the truth. I am gratified by your kind welcome, particularly as I have reason to believe that some attempts wer
e made to prejudice you against me. I only wish—but upon that subject, let us say no more! I will only thank you for your goodness and Mr. Vernon for his generosity—but I know that he was always the fondest of brothers and I never doubted that he would receive me for dear Frederick’s sake.”

  Catherine Vernon could not be insensible to the effect of Lady Vernon’s sweet voice and winning manner. It must be a superior deceit, she decided, and wondered how a disposition that could temper her resentful heart might work on her husband’s generosity.

  “I cannot think where Mr. Vernon has gone to,” declared Catherine, and she repeated the phrase whenever the conversation sank into a lull until the appearance of the children relieved her of the exertion.

  To Catherine’s surprise, Lady Vernon addressed the children in a tone that was frank, gentle, and even affectionate, greeting each child by name and exclaiming over the younger of the two boys, who was her late husband’s namesake. “You must be dear little Frederick!” she cried, and careless of her gown, she took the child into her arms and gave him a kiss, and then distributed presents to all of them.

  Charles Vernon appeared at last, and summoning a smile of welcome, he cried, “My dear sister!” and took her hands and kissed her cheek in an awkward show of affection.

  He then sat down and began to speak very quickly, running from subject to subject and barely pausing to allow for any response, stopping only to turn upon the children and reprimand them for the untidy manner in which they had thrown their wrappings and boxes on the carpet and then to attempt a jovial remark about how the children would make Lady Vernon “long for the everyday commotion of Langford,” adding that the Manwarings must have been very sorry to have her leave them so soon.

  “I cannot tell if they regretted or welcomed my departure,” replied Lady Vernon with a smile, “but Mr. Manwaring supposed that there must be a matter of business that could only be resolved by my coming to Churchill.”

  Vernon stammered something about Manwaring being a very glib fellow who talked a great deal of nonsense. “He is amiable enough, but if he knew half as much as he ought about business, he would have made a better marriage,” he added with a laugh.

  “Oh, I believe it was a very businesslike proposal on his part, for he had not a shilling and Eliza had a great deal of money settled upon her. It was Mr. Manwaring’s ill fortune that the custodian of her money withheld it from spite—a very ignoble thing for Mr. Johnson to do, do you not agree? Mrs. Manwaring’s father had intended for her to have the money and depended upon Mr. Johnson to carry out his wishes. No man of honor could have doubted the intent, but perhaps there was just such an informality in the arrangement that allowed Eliza’s guardian to withhold it. But I fear this subject does not interest Mrs. Vernon—indeed, the subject of business often becomes either too dull or too heated for many people, and she is not acquainted with any of the principals.”

  Charles Vernon attempted some weak humor about women and business, and Mrs. Vernon agreed that business was better left to men and that her children gave her all that she needed to think about.

  At last, Lady Vernon begged her relations to excuse her, pleading the fatigue of her journey and the desire to rest and refresh herself before dinner. She was shown to her apartments, which were in a very inferior situation that would expose her to all of the noise and traffic of the nursery and the back stair. The rooms themselves were large and well furnished, however, and the windows opened to the back, upon the crisscrossed hedgerow and a portion of the park, with enough of the forcing garden and greenhouses within view for Lady Vernon to observe that they had fallen into disrepair.

  “I know nobody in the servants’ quarters,” Wilson told her mistress. “Even Cook—dear Cook—has been sent away, and I cannot think that the woman who has come to replace her is half so good, though she may do well enough for the family. It is said in the kitchen that it is rare for Mr. and Mrs. Vernon to have anyone to dine, and that they accept very few invitations. The neighborhood must feel such a very great change from Sir Frederick’s open hospitality.”

  “And yet the house itself is unchanged. There has been almost no alteration to the furnishings or in the arrangement of the rooms, no adornments that would have put the Vernons’ own stamp upon the property or pronounced their good fortune to the world—nothing save for one change that I do not like,” added Lady Vernon warmly. “Sir Frederick’s portrait has been removed from the gallery and has been replaced with one of Mrs. Vernon’s grandfather.”

  She was all composure, however, when she went down to dinner and took her place below Mrs. Vernon. Catherine experienced no discomfort until her sister-in-law declined the pheasant curry and the sweetbreads. Lady Vernon apologized for her poor appetite, attributing it to the parting from her daughter and an uncomfortable carriage ride, and declared that a day or two of exercise and fresh air would allow her to do justice to Mrs. Vernon’s excellent table. Mrs. Vernon was not consoled; she believed that for all her sweetness of address, Lady Vernon meant to express her contempt for her sister-in-law by taking no more than a plain breast of chicken and a boiled potato.

  chapter twenty-two

  Lady Vernon had determined, when she came to Churchill, that she would make a direct appeal to Charles and the morning after her arrival, she waited until Catherine excused herself from the breakfast table to go up to the nursery. “Stay, if you please, brother,” said she, for Charles had made a move to depart. “As happy as I am to be introduced to Mrs. Vernon and my nieces and nephews, I must tell you with all candor that I have other motivations for coming here.”

  Charles appeared distressed, and glanced at his watch and made some remark about having to ride into the village. “I hope that your apartments are to your liking—they are very near the children, and the children are very lively. They will soon come to an age where some renovation will have to be thought of, and there will be the expense of governesses and masters—yes, it is a costly thing to raise a large family.”

  “It can be more difficult to provide for one child than four, if you have not the income.”

  “Yes, but that is not the case with you, as you were left a very fine house in town—a house in town, so handsomely furnished, may be let or sold for a very good price, and there is your own income, which must be above seven hundred pounds per annum. That ought to keep you and my niece quite comfortably until she marries, and she has two thousand settled upon her, has she not? That is very handsome.”

  “It cannot be said to be handsome, if it is only a portion of what she was intended to have. Charles, I must be frank. If my husband’s injury and ill health prevented him from carrying out his wishes as far as Frederica was concerned, is it not for you, his heir and brother, to see that they are fulfilled? You know that he intended to settle ten thousand upon her.”

  “My dear sister, you suppose that I was in my brother’s confidence to a greater degree than was the case. If his motives for leaving matters as he did are obscure to you, who lived with him daily, how much more so must they be to me? All I can know of his intentions were set down in his will, and as this was influenced by the manner of provision favored by our honored father, I must take it to be a genuine expression of my brother’s desire. And if that is the case, how can I contradict it?”

  Until that moment, Lady Vernon did not know how far she had continued to hope, for the sake of her husband’s memory as well as her own comfort and Frederica’s future, that her ill opinion of Charles might have been undeserved.

  With as much dignity as she could command, Lady Vernon rose from the table and left the room.

  They did not meet again until dinnertime, and although the ladies sat for nearly two hours after dinner, the dullness of Mrs. Vernon’s company was only relieved by the appearance of the children for half an hour. Charles did not join them.

  The next day and the next were much the same—Charles kept himself very much engaged, and though Lady Vernon saw no evidence of anything that could so comp
letely occupy his time, and some very disheartening indications that the property was not being attended to as it ought, he did not appear again at breakfast, nor did he sit with them after dinner. Catherine, without accomplishments or conversation, spared Lady Vernon the pain she might have felt for detesting the husband of an amiable woman. Only the company of her little nieces and nephews gave her any pleasure. They were still too young to have had their tempers impaired by the indulgence of their mother or the neglect of their father.

  Thus did the first week of Lady Vernon’s return to Churchill Manor pass away.

  chapter twenty-three

  With the foolhardiness of many selfish men, Charles Vernon had thought only of the pleasures of acquisition without the sting of conscience. He was entitled to all that his brother’s will had assigned him, and had been in a fair way to arguing himself out of any reproach. Yet while Lady Vernon’s reproving gazes could be avoided, the quantity of letters she received could not. Vernon began to put a troubling construction upon each letter she sent off to the post and each one she perused at the breakfast table. He imagined her confiding her situation to the Martins, to Lewis deCourcy, or to one of the gentlemen at the banking house, and although Vernon knew that the law was on his side, they might be prevailed upon to aggravate him with appeals for charity or compassion.