The Collected Works of Frances Burney (Illustrated Edition). Frances Burney
whole behaviour of Delvile since first she was acquainted with him. That he loved her with tenderness, with fondness loved her, seemed no longer to admit of any doubt, for however distant and cold he appeared, when acting with circumspection and design, the moment he was off his guard from surprise, terror, accident of any sort, the moment that he was betrayed into acting from nature and inclination, he was constantly certain to discover a regard the most animated and flattering.
This regard, however, was not more evident than his desire to conceal and to conquer it: he seemed to dread even her sight, and to have imposed upon himself the most rigid forbearance of all conversation or intercourse with her.
Whence could this arise? what strange and unfathomable cause could render necessary a conduct so mysterious? he knew not, indeed, that she herself wished it changed, but he could not be ignorant that his chance with almost any woman would at least be worth trying.
Was the obstacle which thus discouraged him the condition imposed by her uncle’s will of giving her own name to the man she married? this she herself thought was an unpleasant circumstance, but yet so common for an heiress, that it could hardly out-weigh the many advantages of such a connection.
Henrietta again occurred to her; the letter she had seen in her hands was still unexplained: yet her entire conviction that Henrietta was not loved by him, joined to a certainty that affection alone could ever make him think of her, lessened upon this subject her suspicions every moment.
Lady Euphrasia Pemberton, at last, rested most upon her mind, and she thought it probable some actual treaty was negociating with the Duke of Derwent.
Mrs Delvile she had every reason to believe was her friend, though she was scrupulously delicate in avoiding either raillery or observation upon the subject of her son, whom she rarely mentioned, and never but upon occasions in which Cecilia could have no possible interest.
The Father, therefore, notwithstanding all Mr Monckton had represented to the contrary, appeared to be the real obstacle; his pride might readily object to her birth, which though not contemptible, was merely decent, and which, if traced beyond her grandfather, lost all title even to that epithet.
“If this, however,” she cried, “is at last his situation, how much have I been to blame in censuring his conduct! for while to me he has appeared capricious, he has, in fact, acted wholly from necessity: if his father insists upon his forming another connection, has he not been honourable, prudent and just, in flying an object that made him think of disobedience, and endeavouring to keep her ignorant of a partiality it is his duty to curb?”
All, therefore, that remained for her to do or to resolve, was to guard her own secret with more assiduous care than ever, and since she found that their union was by himself thought impossible, to keep from his knowledge that the regret was not all his own.
CHAPTER 6
A MYSTERY
For two days, in consequence of violent colds caught during the storm, Lady Honoria Pemberton and Cecilia were confined to their rooms. Cecilia, glad by solitude and reflection to compose her spirits and settle her plan of conduct, would willingly have still prolonged her retirement, but the abatement of her cold affording her no pretence, she was obliged on the third day to make her appearance.
Lady Honoria, though less recovered, as she had been more a sufferer, was impatient of any restraint, and would take no denial to quitting her room at the same time; at dinner, therefore, all the family met at usual.
Mr Delvile, with his accustomed solemnity of civility, made various enquiries and congratulations upon their danger and their security, carefully in both, addressing himself first to Lady Honoria, and then with more stateliness in his kindness, to Cecilia. His lady, who had frequently visited them both, had nothing new to hear.
Delvile did not come in till they were all seated, when, hastily saying he was glad to see both the ladies so well again, he instantly employed himself in carving, with the agitation of a man who feared trusting himself to sit idle.
Little, however, as he said, Cecilia was much struck by the melancholy tone of his voice, and the moment she raised her eyes, she observed that his countenance was equally sad.
“Mortimer,” cried Mr Delvile, “I am sure you are not well: I cannot imagine why you will not have some advice.”
“Were I to send for a physician, Sir,” cried Delvile, with affected chearfulness, “he would find it much more difficult to imagine what advice to give me.”
“Permit me however, Mr Mortimer,” cried Lady Honoria, “to return you my humble thanks for the honour of your assistance in the thunder storm! I am afraid you made yourself ill by attending me!”
“Your ladyship,” returned Delvile, colouring very high, yet pretending to laugh; “made so great a coward of me, that I ran away from shame at my own inferiority of courage.”
“Were you, then, with Lady Honoria during the storm?” cried Mrs Delvile.
“No, Madam!” cried Lady Honoria very quick; “but he was so good as to leave me during the storm.”
“Mortimer,” said Mr Delvile, “is this possible?”
“O Lady Honoria was such a Heroine,” answered Delvile, “that she wholly disdained receiving any assistance; her valour was so much more undaunted than mine, that she ventured to brave the lightning under an oak tree!”
“Now, dear Mrs Delvile,” exclaimed Lady Honoria, “think what a simpleton he would have made of me! he wanted to persuade me that in the open air I should be less exposed to danger than under the shelter of a thick tree!”
“Lady Honoria,” replied Mrs Delvile, with a sarcastic smile, “the next tale of scandal you oblige me to hear, I will insist for your punishment that you shall read one of Mr Newbury’s little books! there are twenty of them that will explain this matter to you, and such reading will at least employ your time as usefully as such tales!”
“Well, ma’am,” said Lady Honoria, “I don’t know whether you are laughing at me or not, but really I concluded Mr Mortimer only chose to amuse himself in a tête-à-tête with Miss Beverley.”
“He was not with Miss Beverley,” cried Mrs Delvile with quickness; “she was alone — I saw her myself the moment she came in.”
“Yes, ma’am — but not then,-he was gone;"— said Cecilia, endeavouring, but not very successfully, to speak with composure.
“I had the honour,” cried Delvile, making, with equal success, the same attempt, “to wait upon Miss Beverley to the little gate; and I was then returning to Lady Honoria when I met her ladyship just coming in.”
“Very extraordinary, Mortimer,” said Mr Delvile, staring, “to attend Lady Honoria the last!”
“Don’t be angry in earnest, Sir,” cried Lady Honoria, gaily, “for I did not mean to turn tell-tale.”
Here the subject was dropt: greatly to the joy both of Delvile and Cecilia, who mutually exerted themselves in talking upon what next was started, in order to prevent its being recurred to again.
That fear, however, over, Delvile said little more; sadness hung heavily on his mind; he was absent, disturbed, uneasy; yet he endeavoured no longer to avoid Cecilia; on the contrary, when she arose to quit the room, he looked evidently disappointed.
The ladies’ colds kept them at home all the evening, and Delvile, for the first time since their arrival at the castle, joined them at tea: nor when it was over, did he as usual retire; he loitered, pretended to be caught by a new pamphlet, and looked as anxiously eager to speak with Cecilia, as he had hitherto appeared to shun her.
With new emotion and fresh distress Cecilia perceived this change; what he might have to say she could not conjecture, but all that foreran his communication