She wanted much more to talk of the parsonage and glebe of Rundell Canonicorum, and of how many servants and cows she should keep, and showed herself almost annoyed when Aurelia brought her back to Carminster by asking whether Eugene had finished his Comenius, and if the speckled hen had hatched many chickens, whether Palmer had had his rheumatic attack this spring, or if the Major’s letter to Vienna had produced any tidings of Nannerl’s relation. Harriet seemed only to be able to reply by an effort of memory, and was far more desirous of expatiating on the luxuries at alderman Arden’s, and the deference with which she had been treated, in contrast to the indignity of Lady Belamour’s neglect.
It was disappointing to find that her father had heard nothing from my Lady about the settlement of the Manor House.
“Was the promise in writing?” asked Mr. Arden, who had been silent all this time.
“Certainly, in a letter to me.”
“I recommend you to keep it carefully until Mr. Wayland’s return,” said Mr. Arden: “he will see justice done to you.”
“Poor Mr. Wayland! When he does return, I pity him; but it is his own fault for leaving his lady to herself. Have you ever seen the gallant colonel, sister?”
“Never.”
“Ah! most like he is not much at Bowstead. But do not folk talk there?”
“My dear,” said Mr. Arden, “you would do well to imitate your honoured father’s discretion on certain points.”
“Bless me, Mr. Arden, how you startled me. I thought you were in a brown study.” She winked at Aurelia as if to intimate that she meant to continue the subject in his absence, and went on; “I assure you, I had to be on the alert all the way to take care he looked at the sign-posts, or we might have been at York by this time. And in London, what do you think was all my gentleman cared to go and see? Why, he must needs go to some correspondents of his who are Fellows of the Royal Society. I took it for granted they must be friends of his Majesty or of the Prince of Wales at the least, and would have had him wait for his new gown and cassock; but la! it was only a set of old doctors and philosophers, and he wished to know what musty discoveries they had been making. That was one thing he desired in London, and the other was to hear that crazy Parson Wesley preach a sermon hours long!”
“I was well rewarded in both instances,” said Mr. Arden gravely.
Aurelia did not take advantage of the opportunity of shining in the eyes of her new brother-in-law by showing her acquaintance with the discussions on electricity which she had studied for Mr. Belamour’s benefit, nor did she speak of Dr. Godfrey’s views of Wesley and Whitfield. Had she so ventured, her sister would have pitied her, and Mr. Arden himself been somewhat shocked at her being admitted to knowledge unbecoming to a pretty young lady. Intellect in ladies would have been a startling idea, and though very fond of his wife, he never thought of her as a companion, but only as the mistress of his house and guardian of his welfare.
The dinner was ordered at one, and at three Aurelia would ride home, while Mr. and Mrs. Arden went on about twelve miles to the house of a great grazier, brother to the Alderman’s wife, where they had been invited to make their next stage, and spend the next day, Sunday, when Harriet reckoned on picking up information about cattle, if she were not actually presented with a cow or a calf. They went out and walked a little about the town, where presently they met Mrs. Hunter. Aurelia met her puzzled stare with a curtsey, and she shouted in her hearty tone “Miss Delavie!--I mean Mrs. Belamour! Who would have thought of seeing you here!”
“I am here to meet my sister--Mrs. Arden. Let me--let me present you,” said Aurelia in obedience to an imperious sign from her sister, going through the form for the first time, while Harriet volubly declared her happiness in making Mrs. Hunter’s acquaintance, and explained how they were on their way to take possession of Mr. Arden’s rectory of Rundell Canonicorum, the words rolling out of her mouth with magnificent emphasis. “I congratulate you, ma’am,” said Mrs. Hunter, cordially, “and you too, my dear,” she added, turning to Aurelia. “I would have been out long ago to call on you--a sort of relation as you are now, as I may say--but it was kept all so mum, one never knew the time to drink your health; and my Cousins Treforth wouldn’t so much as give me a hint. But la! says I, why should you talk about artfulness? I’m right glad poor Mr. Amyas should find a sprightly young lady to cure him of his mopishness. Never mind them, my dear, if they do look sour on you. I’ll come over one of these days and talk to them. Now, I must have you come in to take your dinner with us. The Doctor will be right pleased to find you. I’ll take no excuse. I thank Heaven I’m always ready whoever may drop in. There’s spring chicken and sparrow-grass.”
However, on hearing their dinner was ordered at the inn, the good lady was satisfied that to dine with her was impossible; but she insisted on their coming in to partake of wine and cake in her best parlour.
This, however, was a little more than Mr. Arden could endure, he made an excuse about seeing to the horse, and escaped; while Mrs. Hunter led the two sisters to her closely shut-up parlour, wainscoted, and hung with two staring simpering portraits of herself and her husband, clean as soap could make it, but smelling like a long closed box. She went to a cupboard in the wall, and brought out a silver salver, a rich cake, glasses and wine, and pouring out the wine, touched the glass with her lips, as she wished health and happiness to the two brides before her.
“We shall soon have another wedding in the family, if report speaks true,” she added. “They say--but you should be the best informed, Madam Belamour--
“We hear nothing of the matter, ma’am,” said Aurelia.
“That’s odd, since Mr. Belamour is young Sir Amyas’s guardian; and they cannot well pass him over now he has begun life again as it were,” laughed Mrs. Hunter. “‘Tis said that my Lady is resolved the wedding shall be within six weeks.”
“There are two words to that question,” said Harriet, oracularly; “I know from good authority that young Sir Amyas is determined against the match.”
“But is it true, ma’am,” cried Mrs. Hunter, eagerly, “that my Lady and the Countess of Aresfield met at Bath, and that my Lady is to have 3,000 pounds down to pay off her debts before her husband comes home, the day her son is married to Lady Arabella?”
“Every word of it is true, ma’am,” said Harriet, importantly.
“Well now, that folk should sell their own flesh and blood!”
“How have you heard it, sister Harriet?” asked Aurelia.
“From a sure hand, my love. No other than Mrs. Dove. She is wife to my Lady’s coachman,” explained Mrs. Arden to her hostess, “and nurse to the two children it is her pleasure to keep with her.”
“Dear good Nurse dove!” cried Aurelia, “did she come to see you?”
“Yes, that did she! So I have it from the fountain-head, as I may say, that the poor young gentleman’s hand and heart are to be made over without his will, that so his mother may not have such a schedule of debts wherewith to face her husband on his return!”
“Her jewels have been all paste long ago, I know very well,” said Mrs. Hunter, not to be outdone; “though, would you believe it, Doctor Hunter is like all the men, and will believe nothing against her! But this beats all the rest! Why, I have it from my maid, who is sister to one of the servants at the boarding-school in Queen Square, whither they have sent the Lady Belle, that she is a regular little shrew. She flew at one of the young ladies like a wild cat, because she did not yield place to her at once, and scratched her cheeks till the blood ran down, and tore out whole handfuls of her hair. She was like one possessed, and they had to call the lackey before they could get her safe tied down in bed, where they kept her on bread and water, trying to get her to make her apology; but not a word could be got out of her, till they had to yield the point lest she should fall sick.”
Aurelia mentally applauded her own discretion in not capping this with Mrs. Dove’s former tale, and only observing that the marriage could not take place before the young baronet was of age, without the consent of his personal guardian, Mr. Belamour.
“You will excuse me, my dear, in speaking of your husband, but he has so long been incapable of acting, that they say his consent can be dispensed with.”
“Aye, poor cousin Amyas Belamour!” said Mrs. Hunter. “He was the only man who ever durst resist my Lady’s will before, and you see to what she has brought him!”
“Her son is resisting her now,” said Harriet; “and our good Dove says it makes her blood boil to see the way the poor young gentleman is treated. He, who was the darling for whom nothing was good enough a while ago, has now scarce a place in his mother’s own house. She is cold and stately with him, and Colonel Mar, the Lady Belle’s brother, being his commanding officer, there is no end to the vexations and annoyances they give him, both at home and in his quarters. Mrs. Dove says his own man, Grey, tells her it is a wonder how he stands out against it all! And a truly well-bred young gentleman he is. He came to pay me his call in Gracechurch Street only yesterday, knowing our kindred, and most unfortunate was it that I was stepped out to the office to speak as to our boxes being duly sent by the Buckingham wain; but he left his ticket, and a message with the servant, ‘Tell my cousin, Mrs. Arden,’ he said, ‘that I much regret not having seen her, and I should have done myself the honour of calling sooner to inquire for her good father, if I had known she was in town.”