The Manoeuvring Mother (Vol. 1-3). Lady Charlotte Campbell Bury
my dear Sir John; the poor fellow is dragging on an odd kind of existence, but still he lives. Just ask him to spend his Christmas with us, and of course his mother must be included in the invitation. I do not coerce young gentlemen, therefore you cannot have fears for their safety. Ask that poor unhealthy creature, at any rate; his lordship has the option of declining an invitation which does not give him satisfaction."
Sir John submitted to the "arrangement," and, most unexpectedly to himself, Lord Ennismore accepted the invitation. Lady Wetheral could not conceal her raptures; Julia also was pleased, and after a long tête-à-tête with her mother, she reported the conference to Anna Maria.
"I have had a long lecture from mamma, but that is nothing new. She has been anxiously beseeching me to captivate poor measly Ennismore, which I had long decided to do before papa issued his invitation, only I amused myself with assuring her I could not endure such a wretched sickly creature. Poor mamma had recourse to all her essence bottles, perfectly fatigued with setting forth his lordship's titles and rent-roll. She says all her hopes are anchored upon myself, as she is sure you will never marry now."
"Does she?" replied Anna Maria, softly and tranquilly.
"Yes, she told me you had passed two years without an offer, and therefore you must be considered passé, as Tom Pynsent did not come forward."
A deep blush overspread the cold pale cheek of Anna Maria, but she made no reply.
"Mamma told me if Lord Ennismore did not attach himself to me, I could but try Tom Pynsent, as she very much wished one of us to be established at Hatton; but though I may flirt with Tom Pynsent, I would not marry such a hunting, loud-voiced man."
Anna Maria remained silent; Julia proceeded.
"You will not make a reply, and how can I go on talking without an audience? Mamma takes great pains to plan our attacks, but she deserts us in our hour of need. I am sure she held up Tom Pynsent to you as the one thing needful, and because you did not take to each other, she is quite certain you will remain single."
Anna Maria's lips were compressed, and no sound issued from their portals. Julia looked earnestly in her face, and beheld tears flowing: she threw her arms round her sister's graceful neck and embraced her.
"My dear Anna Maria, tell me why you weep, and why you take mamma's nonsense to heart? Every body loves you, dear Anna, and you will marry in time, though Isabel did go before you."
Anna Maria's heart was too full to give utterance in words, but a violent fit of weeping relieved her, and Julia's embraces won her confidence. She unburthened her sorrow to this affectionate sister.
"I do not regret Isabel's marriage, Julia, or my own singlehood, so lamented by my mother:—it is not that I deplore; but I was taught to—I was assured—" another long fit of weeping succeeded, and again Julia soothed the choking violence of her sister's grief. An interval of calm allowed poor Anna Maria to proceed.
"If I had not been taught to consider Tom Pynsent as an assured lover—if my mother had not persevered in holding him up to my view as a model of perfection, and woven his idea into my very nature, I should not have loved so fondly the man you despise, Julia."
Julia gazed at her sister in mute astonishment, as she grew energetic in her subject.
"If I had foolishly sought his society, I might have merited the pain I have endured; but, Julia, my mother raved about him:—his affections were considered the only proper aim of female ambition—he was courted by her, and he was always near me. My mother sought his fortune, but I attached myself to his person, and I am cast aside by both. Pynsent, I know, believes me ambitious and sordid, and my mother considers me no longer a safe speculation. I have been the victim of her heedless calculations!"
"My dear, dear sister!" exclaimed Julia, bursting into tears.
"Who can repay me for all my useless suffering?" continued Anna Maria, in still more energetic tones, her eyes flashing fire. "Who will return me the peace of mind I have lost—the tranquillity of my early days—the first happy hours of my gaiety? Who had a right to betray my heart, and trample upon my hopes, when I was too young and ignorant of harm to discover the snare? What has my mother done for me? I was her eldest born, her hope, and companion, and what has she done for me but cast me into misery, and made my life a burthen!"
"Oh, my poor dear sister!" cried Julia, in deep distress; "and under your quiet manner, you really loved Tom Pynsent?"
"I loved him truly and for ever," replied Anna Maria, the fire of her dark eyes sinking into humidity, as the current of her thoughts dwelt alone upon the man she adored. "I can see no faults in the creature you deprecate—he may be the character you describe, but to me he is sacred: I love him, and though he shall never know it, I will die for him."
"Never more will I flirt with Tom Pynsent, oh, never, never!" exclaimed Julia, throwing her arms again round Anna Maria's waist. "If I had known you cared for him, I would not have chatted as I did last night with Tom. Oh, Anna, how you must have suffered, yet how calm you appeared!"
"I care not who engrosses his attention," replied her sister, as the colour rose and subsided in her cheeks. "I care not who loves him, or is loved by him: I am jealous of no one: I love in hopelessness and misery, and he shall never know my agony. Take care, Julia, how you trifle with Lord Ennismore; these hateful flirtations destroy each other's repose; how selfish, how cruel!" Anna Maria shuddered as she spoke.
"I will not try to attach Lord Ennismore," cried Julia, in earnest accents: "your distress has cured me of all intentions; but speak to papa, Anna Maria, and he will keep Tom Pynsent from the house. You know how kind he always is."
"Not for worlds!" cried Anna Maria, starting up, "not for worlds, Julia! let no one know I am wretched—let no one pity me, or dare to comfort me but yourself—promise, promise me, on your honour."
She took Julia's clasped hands in her own, and, with an impetuosity belonging to her irritable nature, she exacted a solemn vow of silence. Julia gave her assurances with regret, but the vow passed her lips, and from her the secret never transpired. She was the soul of honour in those matters.
After this confidential disclosure on the part of her eldest sister, Julia repulsed every attention offered by Tom Pynsent, and firmly resisted his efforts to attract her notice. Young Pynsent was astonished by a style of manner so suddenly adopted, and so perseveringly kept up towards himself, and at first he resented the cold indifference by an equal display of composed carelessness; but its pertinacity at length piqued his vanity, and in the end produced a watchfulness which engrossed his whole soul.
Had Julia flirted on with Tom Pynsent, his heart would have been untouched; and his mind, perfectly aware of Lady Wetheral's schemes, had remained free to sport amid the beauty which surrounded him. But Julia's manners, so unaffected, so perfectly guileless, showed such unequivocal avoidance of his society, that vanity took the alarm, and conducted her victim to the very snare he had so long observed and ridiculed. To be disliked by a Wetheral, when all the Shropshire world knew he had long been a favourite speculation of her ladyship—it was not to be endured, and, coûte que coûte, Tom Pynsent vowed to subdue the cold heart of Julia Wetheral.
Tom Pynsent was not an Apollo, nor did he possess the fascination of more courtly men, to make the subjugation of a lady's heart the amusement of a leisure hour. Tom Pynsent was good-looking, tall, broad set, and loud in speech, as Julia had described him: he was also empty, good-natured, and immoderately fond of fox-hunting. His very large fortune in perspective gave him the entrée of the neighbourhood at all hours, and if Tom Pynsent failed in the soft elegance of speech, or appeared to some disadvantage in the ball-room among his more polished companions, yet upon his attentions were the eyes of woman taught to rest; and many a glance of admiration was bestowed upon the uncouth, ill-dressed Tom Pynsent, which other more gifted swains failed to obtain.
It was the fate of Anna Maria to love this man; and while the cold, stiff manners of the beautiful Miss Wetheral, chilled the approach of distant admirers, her heart was sincerely and really given to Tom Pynsent. It is in vain to argue upon love, which arises from a thousand causes unconnected with personal appearance.