Lady Betty ... With original illustrations

Front matter

The Interrupted Wedding. Frontispiece. LADY BETTY. BY CHRISTABEL R. COLERIDGE. "Sober, steadfast, and demure." WITH ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS. LONDON: FREDERICK WARNE AND CO., BEDFORD STREET, COVENT GARDEN. NEW YORK: SCRIBNER, WELFORD, AND CO. LONDON : PRINTED BY WOODFALL AND KINDER, MILFORD LANE, STRAND, W.C. CONTENTS. Chapter PAGE I. Waiting for the Wedding i II. The Rejected Lover 15 III. Sisterly Confidences 24 IV. Giles Grantley 32 V. Dorothy's Trust 4° VI. French Relations 4s VII. S. Germains 61 VIII. The King 78 IX. King or Country 97 X. Merivale no XI. After the First Year 124 XII. Dolly's Prey 137 XIII. Caught in the Snare 151 XIV. Pyramus and Thisbe 167 XV. Faithful to Death 185 XVI. The Last Service 199 XVII. Parting 213 XVIII. Exile 229 XIX. Learning French 242 XX. Dolly's Choice CONTENTS.

Chapter PAGE XXI. Miss Lydia Carew 268 XXII. The Sober Gentleman and his Rival . . . 280 XXIII. Breaking the Links 295 XXIV. The Fish-Pond 315 XXV. The Wedding Veil 334 XXVI. Thirty Years 345 XXVII. The Wedding that was waited for . . .

Chapter I. Waiting For The Wedding

■E2|T£*3J|HERE exists a picture — it matters not where — If Ir °'" a refine^ lad}-, past youth, well-nigh passing the prime of middle age. She has small features, and large, serious eyes. Her dress is that of the eighteenth century; and, over her powdered hair and matronly head-dress, she wears the lace veil of a bride. She holds in her white, lady-like hands, where the blue veins and tiny wrinkles show that youth is past, an elaborate piece of many-coloured embroidery. On the frame of the picture is written : — LADY BETTY LEFEVRE, Aged 46. 1747- The story of the lace veil and the bright embroidery B is long and strange, and Lady Betty Lefevre played but a passive part in it. But it is the story of those whom she loved well, and in whom her life was bound up ; and, therefore, may well be told in her name, and for her sake.

It began many years before, on Lady Betty's sixteenth birthday, and her wedding-day. She waited for her bridegroom, as the sun sank over Hounslow Heath, tinting with pale pink the chilly blue of the November sky, and brightening for a moment the breaks of gloomy furze, and wild expanses of fading heather, on the wild dangerous moorland, where every clump of trees and every dip in the ground might hide those whom no travellers would care to meet. High walls and strong iron gates guarded the Cedars from such untrustworthy neighbours ; and the Earl of Farfield preferred it, as a residence, to the lonely manor-house, far in the North, from which his title and his revenues were derived. It was such a house as may be seen to this day, in Middlesex, in sober old age, either as a comfortable family mansion, a ladies' school, or an academy for young gentlemen.

But in Lady Betty's girlhood the red brick walls and stone facings were bright and new, the ramping monsters on the gate lacked none of their sharp cutting, the lawns were smooth as velvet, and the splendid trees which gave their name to the house were in full vigour. No London smoke or suburban gas-works had come near, to hasten their decay. The doors were wide open ; and busy servants were hurrying about, receiving guest after guest, as they rumbled up to the house in their great heavy chariots, or dismounted from their horses at the steps. But Lady Betty sat high above the tumult, in her own chamber, peeping through the small, thickly framed, square panes of the tall window, at the winding road that crossed the heath ; or casting occasional glances at the lace veil, hanging over the back of a chair near.

She was very small and fair, but had a sedate, womanly air, with which her elaborately dressed hair and richly brocaded silk might have had something to do ; while the solemn look in her big blue eyes was, perhaps, owing to the shadow of coming wifehood. Certainly her elder and far lovelier sister was the more childish-looking of the two. Dorothy Lefevre was tall and slim, but the roundings of her lovely, laughing face were almost infantine ; and her shy, sly brown eyes smiled out from under their curving lashes with none of the thoughtful glances given by her sister's. "Why, Betty," she said, "the bridegroom's long a-coming." " He will come !" said Lady Betty, quietly. " And where 's my Lord Carstairs ? He should be coming over the heath. Ah ! there 's his coach, lumber ing round the furze-brake.

Why, sister, the harness is broken, and the outriders have rolled in the mud ! High waymen, as I live ! Will they carry away our bride ?" B And Dorothy sang, in clear ringing tones : — " She's o'er the border and awa' Wi' Jock o' Hazeldean." " Dorothy, you surprise me," said the dignified Elizabeth. " See, now, where Mr. Charles comes with his friends, close behind my Lord Carstairs' coach, round the furze-brake. Rather than jest, it were better to pray that I may be a good wife to him." She spoke with an exceeding gravity and simplicity that checked the smile on her sister's lips ; then, putting her hands over her face, she stood upright, with manifest straightforward care not to disarrange her dress, and said her prayer earnestly to herself. She had scarcely finished, when a tall servant-girl, with white ribbons in her mob-cap, and a gay green quilted petticoat, came in.

" My Lady Betty, her ladyship bids you finish dress ing quickly. My Lord Carstairs has arrived, and his honour Mr. Courtenay comes close on his heels." " Very well," said Lady Betty, and, slightly blushing, she stood still, while sister and maid put the veil over her head, and carefully adjusted it. " I should like to see myself," said the bride ; and Dorothy lighted some candles and led her before a tall looking-glass. "'Tisn't many brides as wear a veil of their own working, my lady," said Kitty the maid. " I should be sick to death of that fine lace work," said Lady Dorothy. " With my aunt I scarce touched a needle." " But you know," answered her sister, " we are not rich — I have known a long time that I was going to be married — and it added to the dower I shall bring to Mr. Charles."

Dorothy arched her delicate eyebrows and laughed, then stopped herself. " Mama is coming ;" and the Countess of Farfield came into the room. She was not unlike her youngest daughter, but with a less thoughtful and intelligent face. She looked a good and modest lady ; but the serene, widely opened eyes passively reflected impressions from without, instead of showing the thoughts and feelings within. She examined the bride's dress with anxious solicitude, arranging a ribbon here or a jewel there, and finally clasping a handsome necklace round the white slender throat. Then she kissed both the girls and said, half tearfully, — " I am glad Dolly is come back from the North, to help me to do without you, Betty ; but I would gladly have kept you both a little longer." Betty did not speak ; but she looked at her mother with an expression of intense attention.

Lady Farfield took the little hands, still round and childish, in her own. " My dear daughter, obey your husband, and love keeping at home, and the ruling of your house. And read in your Bible daily." " Yes, mama," said the grave girl ; and Lady Far field continued, — " You will try to be notable and housewifely. And, my dear child, study your mother-in-law's wishes as — as you have done mine." Here the Countess broke down into tears, and Betty's eyes filled ; but she never dropped her steady gaze at her mother, who recovering herself went on, — " See, here is a little book in my own hand ; since I was a girl I have written in it my money matters and useful household things. You shall keep it, and here is the date of your marriage. There is a recipe for sweet cakes, and another for cleaning of silks, which are secrets in our family ; but you may confide them to Madam Courtenay, if she will."

Lady Betty took the little leather-clasped book in which recipes and family records were set down in her mother's rather laboured penmanship and imperfect spelling. " And now, God bless my little daughter, and make her a happy wife, and a good one ! " And Lady Far field kissed her again with tearful eyes, while Lady Betty's face quivered and she grew very pale. "The guests are waiting — we must come, my dear child." She took the bride's hand, and, followed by Dorothy, went down to the great drawing-room, whither we will precede her by some half hour. It was a handsome room, the tall doors reaching nearly to the ceiling, which, as well as the panels of the wall, was painted in white, picked out with gold. Rich and elaborate carvings of fruit, flowers, and fat Cupids decorated the cornice and the lofty wooden mantel piece, the sides of which were cut into Corinthian pillars ; while over the long windows were drawn rich curtains of orange-coloured damask, chosen by the late earl in the fever of enthusiasm for the glorious Revolu tion of 1 688.

They had been retained by his son, even in furnishing this new house, built in his own time, whether from enthusiasm or policy it might be difficult to say. But they certainly were appropriate to so loyal a friend to the Protestant succession as my Lord Farfield, who said Amen to the prayers for King George, when they were read in Heston Church by his reverence the Vicar, who now stood in full canonicals, ready to marry Lady Betty, as he had christened her, in that self-same drawing-room, nearly sixteen years before. Since then, he had heard her say her catechism occasionally, and complimented her on her rosy lips whenever she met him ; and, seated in a big pew in his church every Sunday morning, she had derived what religious impres sions she could, from long and learned sermons which she could but imperfectly hear, from prayers which she reverenced but did not understand, and from old mediæval columns and arches, which she thought odd and ugly, and in which she had never been taught to see any sacred beauty or spiritual meaning.

But Betty was a good girl, and well impressed if not well taught by her mother, and in a silent inward way she had learnt to set duty in the first place, and to perform the few religious services demanded of her with great reality if with little enthusiasm. Her father was now receiving his many guests with much ceremonious courtesy. They were all of one political party, all friends to the new sovereign in a marked degree, for Lord Farfield held a somewhat peculiar position. He came of an old High Church and Royalist race ; but his father, it was believed, on some unknown insult from James II., turned hotly round, and supported the Revolution in every possible way. The present earl had been brought up in these new principles, and followed them even with some ostentation, lest he should be suspected of a leaning to the traditions of his house.

He was a very hand some man, in the prime of life, with the brown eyes, arched eyebrows, and delicate complexion, inherited by his eldest daughter; but the penetrating expression, detecting, but not revealing, secrets, which came like a surprise into Dolly's innocent face, was habitual to her father, and there were Lefevre tricks of tone and manner, learnt, perhaps, by the girl during a long sojourn with her father's sister at Farfield Manor in the North, which made the likeness very strong. Lord Farfield received his guests with much stately dignity, well befitting his splendid suit of crimson velvet laced with gold ; but his well-turned compliments and agreeable manners scarcely served to allay the impatience of the company at the non-arrival of the bridegroom, and of Lord Farfield's old family friend Lord Carstairs.

Their way lay over the heath, and some fears were expressed lest they might have met with other travellers, who would interfere sadly with their journey. A lady was beginning timidly to express these alarms, when a stir among the servants without beto kened an arrival. The folding-doors were thrown back, and Lord Carstairs entered. But the stir outside spread to the company within, for the long-expected nobleman presented every appearance of having met with some unpleasant adventure, which he was trying to cover with as gallant and cheerful an air as possible ; his elegantly curled wig was pushed awry, his well-fitting suit of green cloth was split across the shoulders, and one of his lace ruffles hung disconsolately from his sleeve, torn across the centre. " My Lord Farfield," he said, " a journey to your house can only be attempted on occasions of state.

One does not look for these rascally highwaymen by daylight ! " " Highwaymen ?" " Ay, my lord, highwaymen, I assure you. My nerves are quite upset, and my wig " catching sight of himself in a mirror, " Your pardon, ladies. I will have the confounded scoundrels hung ! We were proceeding, my lord, slowly, on account of the more than ordinary ruts in the road, when out these fellows came, like a swarm of bees, on horse and on foot, now this side, now that, splashing the windows, breaking the harness — the very devil to pay ! " " What did they take of value ?" " Take ? Oh — oh, they took nothing — they had not the chance, I showed such fight ! I got ready my pistols — they were out of shot in an instant, and the cursed window stuck on its hinge and wouldn't open." " It sounds to me," said Lord Farfield, " more like the trick of some wild young sparks than the attempt of desperate men.

Were they masked ?" " Oh, ay, I believe so ; but the foremost of them dropped his mask, if he had one, and I can see his face now, the young miscreant — now this way, now that — now here, now there ! There ! " — as the door opened to admit a fresh arrival, — " There ! that 's the man ! " " Where — where ? Good heavens, my lord, you have lost your senses ! That is my son-in-law elect, Mr. Charles Courtenay ! " " Then, my Lord Farfield, your son-in-law elect has played me a very scurvy trick. Pray, Mr. Charles Courtenay, what right had you to be dodging about my carriage windows like an ape ? " Mr. Charles Courtenay was a tall slim young man of twenty, with an exceedingly fair complexion, and hair of which the sandy hue showed through his powder. " Your carriage, my Lord Carstairs ?" he said, with a sudden falling of countenance.

" Yes, mine, sir ! " replied the outraged nobleman, curtly. The young bridegroom glanced at his friend Sir George Harrington, who stood by his side, at his intended father-in-law, who looked through him but not at him, and at last stammered out, — " I — I was not aware that your lordship was inside." " And do you imagine, sir, that I send my carriage careering over Hounslow Heath by itself, to — to have mud flung at it ? And suppose it was empty, is that any reason for kicking the panels — kicking them, sir ? Empty ! Don't tell me !" " I assure you, my lord," said Courtenay, vehemently, " I had not the slightest intention of insulting your lord ship. I am ready to apologize humbly. I mistook the carriage and the liveries entirely. It was a foolish prank. I beg you will excuse it." " I beg to corroborate my friend's assertion," said Sir George Harrington.

"And may I ask, sir," said Lord Farfield, "whose carriage you did intend to insult ?" " Well, my lord," said Charles Courtenay, after a pause, " I think it would hardly mend matters if I told you. I thought I owed some one a grudge, and of course," he added naively, " I did not intend your lord ship to hear of it." " Doubtless there is much in your conduct of which you would rather I were not informed, sir." " No, on my honour ! " said Charles, eagerly. " If you will have it, my lord, I did it in revenge for a shameful jest played on my friend Mr. Grantley. I crave my Lord Carstairs' pardon for the mistake, and I hope this may end your displeasure." " Sir, it does not end it," said Lord Farfield, rousing himself suddenly from the thoughtful attitude in which he was listening to Charles's excuses.

" A man who can so play the fool on his wedding-day is no fit bridegroom for my daughter, and the man who can claim so disloyal a traitor for his friend is no fit son-in-law for me." Charles stood as if thunderstruck, without a word. The Vicar exclaimed, — " Come, come, my lord, you arc too hasty ! The young gentleman will doubtless explain himself;" and Sir George Harrington said angrily, — " You are availing yourself very rapidly of this ex cuse, my lord. Mr. Courtenay is as good a friend to the King as yourself." " It was not the way a man went to his wedding when / was young," said Lord Carstairs ; while Charles burst out hotly, — " Mr. Grantley is no traitor, and I am not ashamed of his friendship. I am guilty of no offence against my Lord Farfield ; he will not dare to play me false like this !

" " Dare ! do you say, sir ?" cried Lord Farfield, facing round on his intended son-in-law, whose prudence scarcely choked back his passionate rejoinder ; and high words might have led to blows before the scene ended, when, in the midst of the clamour, in came the stately Countess, leading the white-veiled bride. The ladies started back at finding themselves in the midst of a violent quarrel. Lord Farfield approached his wife and hastily repeated the story to her, and Sir George seized on his friend and held him forcibly still. The Vicar began to expostulate with Lord Carstairs. " Surely, my lord," exclaimed the Countess, " you will not " " Madam, I shall do as I please," thundered her husband ; " and I do not please to give my daughter to a man who keeps doubtful company, and who insults my friends."

" My lord ! " cried Charles, " I do not keep doubtful company ! I am as loyal as you are, and I never in tended to insult Lord Carstairs. I " " Spare your words, sir, that is enough ! My lords and ladies, I crave pardon for having summoned you for nothing. Your reverence will be spared the trouble of tying the knot. A very good evening to you, Mr. Courtenay, and better manners." He took his daughter's hand, but Lady Betty re sisted. " Papa, I will stay and hear what Mr. Courtenay has to say himself." Lord Farfield looked as much astonished as if the chair by which she stood had declined to be sat upon ; but Charles dashed past all obstacles and seized her hand. " Betty, my darling ! I have done no harm — none ! You will not cast me off, though your father breaks his promises, and forces me to give in !

I will win you yet, if we have to wait thirty years ! But I '11 do it in thirty days at farthest ! My father shall write his mind. I will not be treated so ! Will you be true to me, and wait for me, my own true love ?" "I will!" said Lady Betty in distinct accents, while the colour rushed into her face, and her eyes filled with tears. Her mother hastily interposed and drew her away, and while the echo of her clear undoubting " I will ! " still sounded in the ears of the guests, Mr. Charles Courtenay made a sweeping bow to all present and marched out of the room, followed by his friend. Lord Farfield stood in silence for a moment, and then turned, smiling and courteous. " We shall have neither bride nor bridegroom, yet your ladyships will honour our poor table. Permit me, madam ;" and offering his hand to the lady nearest him, he led her into the dining-room.

The Countess appeared, though flushed and tearful, and the guests politely checked their questions and surmises, and did such honour as might be to the feast. But Lady Betty, on her knees, in her own chamber, her bridal veil laid aside, and her soft, grave propriety with it, sobbed passionately to herself. " I will wait for him — yes, I will wait — if it be for thirty years ! " .

Chapter II. The Rejected Lover

RWBglR. CHARLES COURTENAY, his suit thus 3lu_ i summarily dismissed, and his bright prospects thus heavily clouded, shouldered his way hastily out of the house, through the crowd of servants, and marched away over the moor till all trace of his bride's paternal mansion had disappeared. Then he sat himself down on the heather, and resting his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands, presented, with his gay attire splashed with mud, his fine silk stockings torn with brambles, and his powdered hair much disturbed by the hurry, a sufficiently disconsolate appearance. Heedless of the damp, foggy atmosphere, and of the fast-gathering darkness, he sat still, gradually realizing the blow vvhich had fallen upon him. To lose the little bride so well beloved ! Poor boy ! he pressed his fingers tight into his eyes, to keep back the tears of anger and grief; he stamped with his foot on the muddy ground, in his rage and disappointment ; he cursed himself for his folly, and Lord Farfield for his hard judgment ; and at length, with a great sigh, he resigned himself to despair •when a loud call roused him.

" Courtenay ! Courtenay ! where are you ? Hast drowned thyself in yonder pond ?" "No!" answered Charles, as Sir George Harrington, guided by his voice, picked his way carefully to the spot. " That 's well, then. I thought I might find nothing but your hat floating on the water. Cheer up, man ; you are over young to tie the knot yet, and the lady is not so handsome nor so well-dowered as her sister." Charles either did not hear or was too down-hearted to resent this remark, for he only sighed out, — " That I could not keep my hands off the old hag !" " But what old hag ? — and what has young Grantley to do with it ? A pretty scrape you have led me into ! and more fool I to follow your lead ! Lord Carstairs has interest at Court !" " I never intended to insult Lord Carstairs. I did but mean to give old Lady Cholmondeley a fright.

If Lord Carstairs could but be persuaded to plead with my Lord Farfield in my behalf, when he hears it was all a mistake ?" Harrington shook his head. "Look here, Courtenay, you are well off your bar gain. If Lord Farfield had not had a mind to be off his, he never would have made such a stir. You are too good a loyalist ever to let any of your father's broad pieces go over to S. Germains." "S. Germains !" ejaculated Charles. "Ay, ay, did you never hear that whisper abroad ? If some of the plotters about town don't know a secret or two about my Lord Farfield, I am mistaken." Charles Courtenay raised his eyes inquiringly. They did not look as if they saw as far into milestones as his friend's keen dark ones. " But," he exclaimed, suddenly brightening, " if Lord Farfield has Jacobite leanings, it may make all the dif ference if he hears that it was in revenge for a cruel jest on one of that party I tried to play the old lady this cursed unlucky trick."

" My good fellow, a son-in-law with acknowledged Jacobite friends would be worse than a son-in-law thoroughly loyal at heart. But come, let us walk on to the inn — 'tis too cold to sit here on the heath ; and as we go, tell me the whole story. But, mind, I cannot quarrel with my lord or my lady, even for you." " I shall never ask it of you," said Charles, rather haughtily, as he rose to follow Harrington ; " but this is the way of it, if you care to hear. You must know that I was present not long since at an assembly at Brentford, and there too was my friend Giles Grantley — you know him ?" "Ay, ay — wears his own hair, and a good deal of it." " Yes — all the world knows he has been brought up in Jacobite principles ; he would scorn to deny it. I am a loyal subject myself, and assuredly no Jacobite ; but if Giles likes to put his head in danger for his conscience' C sake, nobody has a right to deny him, and nobody shall !

" " Myself, I prefer Lord Farfield's method ; however, let me hear further." " My Lady Cholmondeley, all patched, painted, powdered, and perfumed, was there also, and made fine sport of Giles's dark locks and old-fashioned opinions ; and that every one might hear how loyal she was, flung a hit at the Pretender's personal character in the very hearing of Giles, and brought up the old story of French pensioners and the like. All true enough, doubtless. I think the Pretender a sorry fellow enough ; but why should it be said with jeers and winks, just to cut and wound, when a man can't defend himself ? Giles could not fight a lady — he stood it as long as he could — 'tis one thing to be known to hold dangerous opinions and another to flaunt them in the face of society. But at last he stood up, made my lady a low bow : ' Madam,' says he, loud enough for the whole room to hear, ' I am His Majesty King James the Third's' faithful servant.' Of course there was an uproar at once, some scoffing, and others hot and indignant.

Some cried, ' Lay hands on him !' and others laughed him down, and so I shouted out, ' If King George were here himself, I would say I was Mr. Giles Grantley's faithful friend, though no Jacobite.' And we went out of the room together." " A pair of fools, both of you," muttered Harrington ; then aloud, — " Well, what then ?" " Then, when I found myself, as I thought, close to my Lady Cholmondeley's carriage — for her liveries and those of Lord Carstairs are much alike, I — fool that I was — could not resist the chance of giving her a fright. No harm would have been done if my lord had not put himself in such a turmoil ; he did himself all the mischief by struggling with the window, which would not open. Now if, as you say, Lord Farfield has any secret inclinations towards the Jacobites, surely this tale will soften him."

" My good friend," said Harrington, with an air of superiority, " I fear it will be entirely the other way. Give colour to any rumours of his disloyalty by en couraging such conduct ? Nay, but how loyal a man he must be, who will give up a wealthy son-in-law on such a suspicion. Unless, may be " " Unless what ?" interrupted Charles eagerly. " He make your secret assistance the price ! " "What?" interrupted the indignant boy; "sell my principles and my honour even for lier ? — Never ! " Harrington looked at him, as if surprised and amused. "Come," he said, "you are well out of Lord Far field's hands. Take your dismissal and look about you. The town offers plenty of fair ones, and with your wealth and advantages a time may come when you may bless old Lady Cholmondeley for having pulled you out of the snare."

C This prophecy might possibly be fulfilled ; but it was ill-calculated to soothe the wounded feelings of an ardent young lover of twenty, smarting under his fresh disappointment. Rather his mind turned with resolute confidence to his Elizabeth's steady undoubting " I will." He was the heir to large estates in Devonshire, and belonged to a family of strictly Protestant and very moderate Tory principles. His father was friendly to the present Government, and the alliance had been considered most desirable by Lord Farfield for the daughter whom he did not think likely to shine in the gay world. So Lady Betty had been sent to stay with her aunt in the neighbourhood of Courtenay Hall ; and there the inclinations of the pair, though little more than children, had well backed up the plans of their parents.