“Your father is well, I hope.”
“He was pretty well, I thank you Ladyship, when I heard from my sister ten days ago.”
“I shall see him in a week’s time, and shall report well of his little daughter,” said Lady Belamour kindly. “I am under obligations to you, my dear. You seem to have tamed my little savages.”
Aurelia was amazed, for the universal awe of my Lady had made her expect a harsh and sever Semiramis style of woman, whereas she certainly saw a majestic beauty, but with none of the terrors that she had anticipated. The voice was musical and perfectly modulated, the manner more caressing than imperious towards herself, and studiously polite to the house keeper. While orders were being given as to arrangements, Aurelia took in the full details of the person of whom she had heard so much. It seemed incredible that Lady Belamour could have been mother to contemporaries of Betty, for she looked younger than Betty herself. Her symmetry and carriage were admirable, and well shown by the light blue habit laced richly and embroidered with silver. A small round hat with a cluster of white ostrich feathers was placed among the slightly frizzed and powdered masses of mouse-coloured hair, surmounting a long ivory neck, whose graceful turn, the theme of many a sonnet, was not concealed by the masculine collar of the habit. The exquisite oval contour of the cheek, the delicate ear, and Grecian profile were as perfect in moulding as when she had been Sir Jovian’s bride, and so were the porcelain blue of the eyes, the pencilled arches of eyebrow, and the curve of the lips, while even her complexion retained its smooth texture, and tints of the lily and rose. Often as Aurelia had heard of her beauty, its splendour dazzled and astonished her, even in this travelling dress.
Archer, who was about a year older than his sisters, was more like Amoret than the other two, with azure eyes, golden curls, and a plump rosy face, full of fun and mischief. Tired of the confinement of the coach, he was rushing round the house with Amoret, opening the doors and looking into the rooms. The other little sisters remained beside Aurelia till their mother said, pointing to Fay: “That child seems to mean to eat me with her eyes. Let all the children be with Nurse Dove, Mrs. Aylward. Miss Delavie will do me the pleasure of supping with me at seven. Present my compliments to Mr. Belamour, and let him know that I will be with him at eight o’clock on particular business.” Then turning to the two children, she asked their names, and was answered by each distinctly, with the orthodox “madam” at the end.
“You are improved, little ones,” she said: “Did Cousin Aurelia teach you?”
“And Mammy Rolfe,” said constant Fay.
“She must teach you next not to stare,” said Lady Belamour. “I intend to take one to be a companion to my boy, in the country. When I saw them before, they were rustic little monsters; but they are less unpresentable now. Call your sister, children.” And, as the two left the room, she continued: “Which do you recommend, cousin?”
“Fidelia is the most reasonable, madam,” said Aurelia.
“But not the prettiest, I trust. She is too like her father, with those dark brows, and her eyes have a look deep enough to frighten one. They will frighten away the men, if she do not grow out of it.”
Here the door burst open, and, without any preliminary bow, Master Archer flew in, crying out “Mamma, mamma, we _must_ stay here. The galleries are so long, and it is such a place for whoop-hide!”
His sisters were following his bad example, and rushing in with equal want of ceremony, but though their mother held the boy unchecked on her knee, Aurelia saw how she could frown. “You forget yourselves,” she said.
Amoret looked ready to cry, but at a sign from their young instructress, they backed and curtsied, and their mother reviewed them; Letitia was the most like the Delavies, but also the smallest, while Amoret was on the largest scale and would pair best with her brother, who besides loudly proclaimed his preference for her, and she was therefore elected to the honour of being taken home. Aurelia was requested as a favour to bid the children’s woman have the child’s clothes ready repaired to her own room.
The little wardrobe could only be prepared by much assistance from Aurelia herself, and she could attend to nothing else; while the children were all devoted to Archer, and she only heard their voices in the distance, till--as she was dressing for her _tete-a-tete_ supper--Fay came to her crying, “Archer is a naughty boy--he said wicked words--he called her ugly, and had cuffed and pinched her!”
Poor child! she was tired out, and disappointed, and Aurelia could only comfort her by hearing her little prayers, undressing her, and giving her the highly-esteemed treat of sleeping in Cousin Aura’s bed; while the others were staying up as long as it pleased Master Archer. This actually was the cause of my Lady being kept waiting, and an apology was needful. “Fidelia was tired out, and was crying.”
“A peevish child! I am glad I did not choose her.”
“She is usually very good, madam,” said Aurelia, eagerly.
“Is she your favourite?”
“I try not to make favourites, madam.”
“Ah! there spoke the true Manor House tone,” said her Ladyship, rather mockingly. “Maybe she will be a wit, for she will never be a beauty, but the other little one will come on in due time after Amoret.”
“Your Ladyship will find Amoret a dear, good, affectionate child,” said Aurelia. “Only---”
“Reserve that for nurse, so please you, my good girl. It is enough for me to see the brats on their good manners now and then. You have had other recreations--shall I call them, or cares? I never supposed, when I sent you here to attend on the children, that the hermit of Bowstead would summon you! I assure you it is an extraordinary honour.”
“I so esteem it, madam,” said Aurelia, blushing.
“More honour than pleasure, eh?”
“A great pleasure, madam.”
“Say you so?” and the glittering blue eyes were keenly scanning the modest face. “I should have thought a young maid like you would have had the dismals at the mere notion of going near his dark chamber. I promise you it gives me the megrim [migraine--D.L.] to look forward to it.”
“I was affrighted at first, madam,” said Aurelia; “but Mr. Belamour is so good and kind to me that I exceedingly enjoy the hours I spend with him.”
“La, child, you speak with warmth! We shall have you enamoured of a voice like the youth they make sonnets about--what’s his name?”
“Narcissus, madam,” said Aurelia, put out of countenance by the banter.
“Oh, you are learned. Is Mr. Belamour your tutor, pray? And--oh fie! I have seen that ring before!”
“He gave it to me yesterday,” faltered Aurelia, “in case you should intend to take me away, and I should not see him again. I hope I was not wrong in accepting it, madam.”
“Wrong, little fool, assuredly not,” said my Lady, laughing. “It is an ensign of victory. Why, child, you have made a conquest worthy of--let me see. You, or the wits, could tell me who it was that stormed the very den of Cocytus and bore off the spoil!”
Aurelia liked the tone too little to supply the names; yet she felt flattered; but she said quietly, “I am happy to have been the means of cheering him.”
The grave artlessness of the manner acted as a kind of check, and Lady Belamour said in a different tone, “Seriously, child, the family are truly obliged for your share in rousing the poor creature from his melancholy. My good man made the attempt, but all in vain. What do you to divert him?”
In inquires of this kind the supper hour passed, and Lady Belamour was then to keep her appointment with her brother-in-law. She showed so much alarm and dread that Aurelia could not but utter assurances and encouragements, which again awoke that arch manner, partly bantering, partly flattering, which exercised a sort of pleasant perplexing fascination on the simple girl.
After being dismissed, Aurelia went in search of Mrs. Dove, whom she found with Molly, taking stock of Amoret’s little wardrobe. The good woman rose joyfully. “Oh, my dear missie! I am right thankful to see you looking so purely. I don’t know how I could have held up my head to Miss Delavie if I had not seen you!”
“Ah! you will see my sister and all of them,” cried Aurelia, a sudden rush of home-sickness bringing tears to her eyes, in oblivion alike of her recluse and her pupils. “Oh! if I were but going with you! But what folly am I talking? You must not let them think I am not happy, for indeed I am. Will you kindly come to my room, dear nurse, and I will give you a packet for them?”
Mrs. Dove willingly availed herself of the opportunity of explaining how guiltless she had been of the sudden separation at Knightsbridge four months back. She had been in such haste to ride after and overtake the coach, that she had even made Dove swear at her for wanting to give the horses no time to rest, and she had ridden off on her own particular pillion long before the rest. She had been surprised that she never succeeded in catching up the carriage, but never suspected the truth till she had dismounted in Hanover Square and asked whether “Miss” were with my Lady. Nobody knew anything about Miss Delavie, nor expected her; and the good woman’s alarm was great until she had had an interview with her Ladyship, when she was told not to concern herself about the young lady, who was safely bestowed in the country with the Miss Wayland. “But that it was here, if you’ll believe me, missie, I was as innocent as the babe unborn, and so was his Honour, Sir Amyas. Indeed, my Lady gave him to understand that she had put you to boarding-school with his little sisters.”