Progress and Prejudice

Chapter I

It was a happy day at Meadowes Court ; — a day long looked for, come at last ; — the seven teenth birthday of the only daughter, — nay, the only child — of the house ; who, from her earliest girlhood, had been promised that, on entering her eighteenth year, she should be emancipated from the trammels of the governess, and in troduced into society ; that is, as far as comported with the facilities of a neighbourhood, where society, according to fashionable interpretation, there was none. VOL. I. B PROGRESS There was, however, ab that Amy Meadowes desired. She had heard no description, and by indiscriminate reading acquired no suspicion of any species of social order more bribiant than was presented by their obscure parish ; and what she chiefly ambitioned, in emerging from the school-room and getting rid of Miss Honeywood, was to devote herself exclusively to a dear, good mother, who had been prevented by prolonged ib-health from usurping the functions of the unpopular individual, in whose disappearance from Meadowes Court, the pre ceding day, more than half poor Amy's present delight originated.

So long as she could remember, Lady Mea dowes had been confined to a suite of rooms on the ground-floor of her old-fashioned home : so long as she could remember, — because the delicacy of constitution which rendered her mother so close a prisoner, dated from the hour of her bbth. But though a recluse, that kind mother was by no means a gloomy one. In capable of physical exertion, she was fully equal to the management of their small household; and all that could be accomplished by pen and ink, by careful computation and careful regu lation, was done to perfect the economy of a moderate fortune, in connection with an honourable name and a residence of ancient repute in the county. The baronets of England are in general a wealthy race, and predominate among our landed gentry. Unluckily, Sir Mark Meadowes was an exception.

His daughter Amy knew only that his income was limited; and that hence arose the scantiness of their household, and shabbiness of their household gear. Theb neighbours, had she been permitted to gossip with them, could, however, have informed her that, on attaining his majority, the rent-rob of her father trebled its present amount. At that time, he was involved in a vortex of fashionable dissipation, dicing, drinking, and squandering, in rivalship or imitation of Fox, Sheridan, and the orgies of Carlton House ; so that it was as wonderful as fortunate that even Meadowes Court, and its eight hundred acres, remained for the support of the famby. That they did b PROGRESS so, was generally ascribed to the influence of his wife. From the day of their marriage, Sir Mark had become an altered man ; contenting himself with the homely, homestaying, happy life of a sporting country squire.

Many people asserted, on the other hand, that the old famby mansion would have passed into the hands of usurers and Jews with the rest of the property, but for a strict entail upon his heirs male. This, however, could scarcely be the case. For when, after ten long years of expectation, little Amy made her appearance, so far from lamenting, as was generally ex pected, their disappointment of a son and heir, the parents welcomed their little girl as the greatest of blessings. Nothing therefore was left for officious neigh bours but to take it for granted that, though the old baronetcy, failing male issue to Sir Mark, would devolve upon a distant cousin, the estates must be heritable in the female line. And when it became apparent, from the infirm health of Lady Meadowes, that there was no likelihood of future olive-branches to exclude the sunshine dawning upon the little hebess, they eventually adopted her, as her parents had done from love at first sight, as theb pet and darling.

From the period of her birth, the health of Lady Meadowes never rallied. Though cheerful, and at times capable of carriage-exercise, she was chiefly confined to her sofa ; and her husband lost in her that daby companion of his rides and walks, who had rendered his first ten years of married life an earthly paradise. But from the moment Amy was able to manage a pony, or adapt her little steps to his own, she had been promoted by Sb Mark to the vacant place by his side ; and soon progressed into just such an active, lithe limbed being, as constant exercise, in ab wea thers, was likely to create. To her mother, meanwhile, the cheerful, brighteyed child was an invaluable companion. The pursuits of Sir Mark, both as a sportsman and farmer, were of too engrossing a nature not to leave the invalid frequently alone ; and PROGRESS the prattle of the little girl served to lighten her solitude, till that serious age arrived, when the formation of her daughter's character af forded a still more interesting occupation.

Willingly would Lady Meadowes have mono polized the task, and wholly undertaken her education. But Dr. Burnahy, a neighbouring physician, whose authority at Meadowes Court was secondary only to its master's, pronounced the task too trying for one so delicate ; and a competent governess was found, who, for ten ensuing years, had experienced some difficulty in obtaining as much of her pupil's time and attention as would enable her to do what she considered credit to them both. It was a hard matter to withdraw little Amy from the abing mother, who wanted to be talked to, and read to, and fondled ; and still harder, to convince the rough outspoken Sir Mark, that a lesson of Ancient History signified more than a wholesome gabop on the banks of the Severn; and it is questionable, on the whole, whether the parents or their child experienced most satisfaction, on seeing the carriage return empty after conveying Miss Honeywood, for the last time, to the neighbouring station.

They had parted, however, with mutual kindness, and mutual respect. The good woman, so large a portion of whose life had been devoted to inform the mind of the heiress of Meadowes Court, carried away with her the best proof of the gratitude of the family, in the shape of an annuity as liberal as comported with their moderate means ; and there was consequently no drawback upon Amy's delightful consciousness of liberation. Miss Honey wood was gone to be idle ana happy, among her relations ; and she remained free and happy — oh ! how free, oh ! how happy, — among her own. Her mother never would feel lonely again ; her father would never plead vainly for her company in his rides and walks. She should be always with one or the other : doubly enjoying her sedentary pursuits by her mother's side, — doubly enjoying the pleasures of a country-bfe, under the protection of the kind, merry, jovial Sb Mark.

PROGRESS Any body intent upon her movements might have fancied that Amy was viewing for the first time the beauties of Meadowes Court, on the sunny morning in June we have been de scribing. While the dew was yet on the grass, she had visited every nook in the shrubberies ; every flowery parterre, glowing like an inserted gem amid the rich verdure of the western lawn. She had stood gazing, with her arms resting on the iron fence, upon the web-wooded pad dock, which a more pretending man than Sir Mark would have dignified with the name of park ; admiring the morning light that tinged with silver the glossy bolls of the ancient beech trees, forming not only the beautiful avenue, but, in scattered groups, the most picturesque ornament of the domain. The summer grass was high ; — noisy with insects, fragrant with clover, and enamebed with the blue blossoms of the wild veronica.

All was gay, all was sweet ; as if to do honour to the auspicious epoch of Amv's birthday. It was the seventeenth she had spent upon that self-same spot. But of those within her memory, which had been so bright as this ? The same flowers must have been in bloom : — the same birds singing in the bushes : — the same insects chirping in the grass, or hovering in the sunshine: — the same cows grouped heavily under the beech-trees : — the same pale water-flowers cresting the stagnant old moat. But till now, they had been mute and colourless. Tib now, nothing had knocked at Amy's heart with the earnestness which, at that moment, brought a flush to her cheek, and a tremour to her lip, as she acknowledged to herself that she had not a wish unfulfilled in the world. By the time her parents were astir, and she had been embraced and congratulated, she was almost tired out by the varying emotions agi tating her frame.

The good-wib of the faithful old servants, the noisy caresses of her father's favourite dogs, even the importunities of her pet mare, accustomed to be fed from her hand and thrust its nose in search of sugar into her apron pocket, seemed to demonstrate their sympathy in the grand event of the day ; and when required to be grateful for a beautiful pearl necklace — a B PROGRESS family treasure, bestowed by her father, and a charming writing-desk prepared and filled for her by the dearest of mothers, Amy had scarcely voice to be thankful. After taking part with both in the breakfast to which her hives furnished the honey-comb, and her dairy contributed the butter and cream, she felt as if Time could yield no second birthday equal to that which brought such tears of joy into the eyes of her darling invalid, — such smiles of exultation into the joyous face of Sir Mark.

As the day progressed from dewy morn into burning noon, and from burning noon into that gradual lengthening of the shadows which enabled the neighbouring families to afford their tribute of gratulation on a family event so long' anticipated in their little circle, there arrived the clergyman of the parish of Radens ford, old Mr. Henderson, with the young though widowed daughter who kept house for him ; and soon afterwards, the pony-chaise and barouche of the Tremenheeres and Warne fords, — the only two fambies within visitino distance of Meadowes Court ; the former containing Admiral Tremenheere and his spinster niece ; — the latter, Lady Harriet Warneford and a batch of grandchildren. Amy had to be kissed again and again, and passed from hand to hand like a picture-book or a new toy. For the cadeaux, lavished upon her by these kind friends, she felt perhaps less grateful than she ought.

The one great gift of liberty, — the right of being abowed, henceforward, to think and feel for herself,- — to think and feel as a woman. — superseded ab other joys ; and when she sat down quietly to dinner with her father and mother, after the departure of their guests, she could scarcely believe, the excitement of the day being over, that she had attained a new phase of her existence. Except that her cheeks were burning from too much talking and her ears confused by too much listening, she was obliged to admit that she felt very much as she had done the preceding day. Her father, indeed, saw her in a different light ; and on crowning his Amy's health, when the servants left the room, with a fond embrace, wondered he had never before noticed the ex- PROGRESS quisite beauty of the daughter who seemed suddenly to have started into life.

Lady Meadowes, on the contrary, though she united her pious benediction with that of her husband, scarcely seemed to see that Amy was present. She felt it, however, to the innermost core of her heart. When her sofa was robed nearer the windows opening to the lawn, that she might enjoy the fragrant twilight, and the single vivid evening star, whose reflection trembled on the surface of the old moat, she gathered up her darling's hand into her own, and thought she had never in her life felt so completely happy. Amy's birthdays had usually been days of pleasantness and peace. But this, oh ! this was the sweetest and pleasantest of them all ! —

Chapter II

Had the neighbourhood of Meadowes Court contained within its range any people of what is called the world, right puzzled would they have been to discover in what consisted the new charm which poor Amy discovered in her daily life It could not be the privbege of con ferring with the old housekeeper, and patiently balancing her perplexed accounts. It could not be the pleasure of ambling by her father's side on her beautiful mare, for that she had enjoyed for more than a year past. As to the sensation of being what is called " out," so eventful to young ladies on the eve of presentation, and the brilliant fetes of which that ceremony constitutes PROGRESS the initiatory rite, what could it signify to a girl within reach of only a few homely family-dinners ; where nothing of the male gender ever appeared more attractive than the lame curate of a neighbouring parish, or younger than Sir Mark Meadowes and Dr. Burnaby.

But if this absence of recreation or excitement rendered it difficult to conceive the rapture of Miss Meadowes on finding herself a privileged member of society, it accounted for the perfect satisfaction of her parents. They habed her as a woman, without fear of losing her as a child. No Romeo was at hand, to climb their orchard wall, in search of their idolised Juliet ! Not a regiment quartered within fifty mbes of Meadowes Court ! Not an assize town within ten miles' distance. She might as web have been immured in a convent, for any danger of a hero to the romance of her girlish life. Even the distant cousin, who, on the demise of Sir Mark, wa3 to succeed to his baronetcy, was a married colonel of Militia residing in a remote county. There was, consequently, no drawback upon Lady Meadowes's satisfaction when the Tremen heeres and the Rector's daughter, Mrs. Burton, remarked, almost every time they found her alone, that Amy was daily growing prettier and prettier.

The happy mother knew that ab this youthful loveliness was expanding only for the delight of her parents. No fear, at present, of losing their pet lamb. Lady Harriet Warneford, who resided on a small estate, divided from that of Meadowes Court by a ragged strip of the royal forest of Burdans — a woman so advanced in life as to have survived her husband and eldest son, and to be presiding over the education of the three orphans of the latter, — could not help wondering, at times, at the indifference exhibited by Lady Meadowes and her husband, to their daughter's establishment in bfe. For her own sad experience of the uncertainty of life suggested that the death of Amy's parents might leave this fair young girl alone in a world, where youth and beauty so rare as hers demand a double share of protection.

She had not yet ventured, however, to broach PROGRESS the subject to the invalid. The amiable, un complaining Lady Meadowes was a person to whom her friends, nay, even her acquaintances, were careful to avoid risking a moment's pain. As to Sir Mark, you might as well have at tempted to fling a black crape veil over the face of the sun as to pretend to darken his joyous im pulses by a serious reflection. While Amy her self, whenever Lady Harriet came to pass a day with them, was so full of devices to amuse and please her little grandchildren, that it was im possible to hazard a word capable of overcloud ing her innocent heart. It was really a happy and sociable neighbour hood ; happy and sociable because limited in extent, and assimbated in rank and fortune. No disproportion, no envy, no jealousy.

A country circle of this description is now rare to be found in wealthy, fussy, rabroad-riven England . People go too much to London, too often to the continent, to maintain those obsolete district sympathies which, in the days of our grand fathers and grandmothers, were fostered by inter change of newspapers — recipes — patterns of mantuas and tambouring — and cuttings of myrtles and thrift. We are grown more locomotive, more enlightened, more grand, and more selfish. Miss Tremenheere, a damsel on the peevish side of thirty, and much addicted to moral re flection, sometimes whispered primly to Mrs. Burton, who, though a widow and a mother, was several years her junior, that Amy Mea dowes's seventeenth birthday had done little to endow her with fixity of purpose ; and that her parents were much to blame for not bringing her more decidedly face to face with the stern realities of life.

But the young widow, to whom that cheerful girl was endeared by a thousand acts of kindness towards herself and her sickly little girl, could see no fault in her. So long as Amy fulfilled her duties in bfe with care and love, it mattered bttle that she had always a song upon her lips ; or that she ran forward to meet her friends, when a better-regulated young lady would have advanced with decent deliberation. One of Amy's chief in-door pleasures was to read to her mother while she worked. Like PROGRESS the gentle lady wedded to the Moor, and most women condemned to a sedentary life, Lady Meadowes was " delicate with her needle ;" and never had it moved with half so much alacrity as now that her daughter, with her silver voice and intuitive taste, was ever at hand to cheer her with the pages of some favourite work.

Sometimes, indeed, Amy, with the versatility of her age, would pause in the midst of an inte resting passage ; and, laying down the book, interrupt herself by comments or questions; — usually suggested by the passage before her : — oftener, by her own vague and wandering fancies. •' How strange it seems, mamma," said she, one day, when they had been surrounded for nearly an hour with the extensive family-group of one of Richardson's novels, " that not only am I an only child — no brother, no sister to keep me company, — but that you and papa should also be in the same predicament !" Lady Meadowes worked on in silence. She did not appear in the humour for conversation. Perhaps the inmates of Uncle Selby's cedar parlour engrossed her attention more than they had done that of her daughter. " It would have been so pleasant to have a cousin Lucy Selby or two, to come and stay with us here ; — or at least to supply friends and correspondents.

Not to fall in love with and marry, however, dear mamma, as poor Lady Harriet Warneford did ; — who, Mary Tremen heere tells me, led a miserable life with her husband." " Miss Tremenheere, Amy, is, I fear, a sad gossip !" " How can she help answering me, mother, when I ask her questions ?" " Then never ask them, darling, about things which do not concern you." Amy blushed at the reproof, and promised. It was perhaps in dread of a further lesson that she resumed the chapter of kindred. " It always seems such a relief to Lady Harriet when her sister, Lady Louisa Eustace, arrives at Radensford Manor. They have so many old stories to talk about ; — so many broken interests to revive !" PROGRESS "They are, I believe, sincerely attached to each other," said Lady Meadowes, coldly : — and began to busy herself more actively in sorting the floss silks in her work-basket.

" And you, dearest mother — had you never any sisters ?" " None, Amy." ■ " And your father, you once told me, I remember, was a clergyman, and died when you were very young ?" " Very young." " You lived then, till you married, alone with your mother ? — And was she as good and tender a one as mine ?" — " My dearest Amy," said Lady Meadowes, with an effort which brought a hectic colour into her usually pale face, " there are some questions which it is so painful to answer, that they should never be asked. Be sure that, had I wished to talk to you about my family, I should have done so long ago." " Forgive me, mother," cried Amy, starting up, so that the book she was carelessly holding, feb upon the floor, in her haste to seize and kiss Lady Meadowes's delicate hand. " I wib never speak to you about them again.

But papa's : I may talk to you of them, without wounding your feelings ; for you often explained to me, when I was a child, the family portraits in the China gallery — " " The youngest among which, my dear child, dates from the reign of George the Second." " Web, then, mother, — the miniatures in the breakfast parlour ! Among them, there are Plymers and Cosways ; my grandfather, in his velvet coat and gold frogs ; and grandmamma, the last Lady Meadowes, in her fly-cap and powdered hair ! But that young girl in the corner of the frame, in a beaver hat, with a riding-whip in her hand ?" " Your father's sister, Gertrude Meadowes." " She died unmarried, then, I suppose. Was papa much attached to her ?" " Judge for yourself. You know his affectionate disposition." " Yet he never mentions her. He was perhaps too much affected by her death ?"

PROGRESS " She is not dead, Amy. She married Lord Davenport, and is still alive." " Still alive ? I have reaby and truly a right-down, living aunt? — How delightful!" cried Amy, as if she had chanced upon some wondrous hidden treasure. " You are little likely to benefit by the possession. Your father and the Davenports have not met for many years. They are not upon speaking terms." " On what account ?" " Had your father desired you to be acquainted with the circumstances, you would have heard them long ere this. Be satisfied, darling, that he, who is the best judge of his family affairs, would be hurt and seriously dis pleased if questioned concerning these relation ships." " And are you, too, angry with me, mamma ?" " Not in the least : — for you have erred inad vertently. Were you to renew the subject, I should be vexed, because it would be in direct opposition to my wishes."

Again, Amy fondly kissed her mother's hand ; assuring her she had nothing to fear. But the restraint thus imposed upon her — restraint how new to Amy, — seemed to double the importance of the mystery. Relations whom she must never mention in her father's presence ! Relations, so near, too, whom she was never to see or recognise ! The interdiction was too tantalising. For some days after this perplex ing conversation, she could think only of Lord and Lady Davenport. On one point, she did not think it unlawful to gratify her curiosity. By referring to a Debrett's Peerage, some ten years old, which graced the library table, she found that " Henry, fourth Baron Davenport, residing at Ilford Castle, Westmoreland, and in New Street, Spring Gar dens, had married the only daughter of Sir John Meadowes, Bart., of Meadowes Court, by whom he had two sons, Hugh and Marcus, some years older than herself; and a daughter, Olivia, one year younger." — Three cousins ! — Here was a discovery ! — Three cousins, tolerably of her own age ! — PROGRESS She dared not, however, again appeal to her mother for information.

She had noticed that, on the evening of their last discussion, Lady Meadowes was unusually feverish and harassed ; and for worlds would she not have risked an noying her, a second time. Amy was certain of obtaining information by applying to Mary Tremenheere, who fuby justified Lady Mea dowes's accusation that she was " a sad gossip ;" nor would even Lady Harriet Warneford have refused to enlighten her on any subject concerning which she was entitled to be inquisitive. But she had no right to seek from others in formation refused by the kindest of mothers ; and was even more cautious than usual when she found herself seated in the roomy chimney corner of her father's old nurse, the wife of the parish sexton, Neighbour Savfle (or Saveab, as he was cabed by the people of the village), an aged crone, who had outlived everything but her veneration for the Meadowes family, and her skill in curing the huge flitches of bacon which hung blackening in her vast chimney.

Till now, Amy had been untiring in questioning the old woman, concerning the births, deaths, and marriages of Meadowes Court ; and the scrupulous care with which she had evaded all mention of a sister appertaining to her nursling — her own dear Sir Mark — sufficed to prove that she was cognizant of the family feud. Amy therefore restricted her inquiries to Neighbour Savile's rheumatics, and the old sexton's supply of tobacco : — having decided that, henceforward, the pedigree of the House of Meadowes must rest in peace ! The tongue, albeit an unruly member, is, however, easier of control than the imagination ; and Amy's, whose newly-sprouting wings had little scope for exercise in the matter-of-fact routine of her quiet home, could not resist the temptation of hovering over the forbidden ground of Ilford Castle.

Those three unknown cousins were objects of continual surmise. Olivia, she was certain, was a slender girl with flaxen ringlets — tender, playful, elegant. Her name denoted it. The only Olivia she had ever seen — a protegee of Lady Harriet Wame- VOL. I. C PROGRESS ford, — had beautiful flaxen ringlets and a voice like music : ergo, Olivia Davenport must be as fair as an ermine. Such a one she did remember, whom to look at was to love. Hugh, the elder son, was doubtless a stern, grave young man, qualified to be the represen tative of an ancient baronial race, Marcus — ah ! Marcus was the favourite; — named, doubtless, after her father, and in all probability bearing the open countenance of Sir Mark, as web as possessing his loving heart and honourable nature. Amy was fully prepared to rush into the arms of Olivia Davenport, and swear eternal friend ship.

But she was almost in hopes it would never be her fortune to meet her cousin Mark : so persuaded was she that the stars, which preside over the destinies of beauties in their eighteenth year, foredoomed them to fall des perately in love. If Sb Mark or Lady Meadowes had been people to trouble their heads about their edition of Debrett, they could not have fabed to notice the strange facility with which it spontaneously opened at page 137 ; — being the second which treated of the births, marriages, and progeniture of Engbsh barons. c PROGRESS

Chapter III

The spot where, next to Meadowes Court, the progress and prospects of Amy were watched with the fondest partiality, was the Rectory. Its venerable master loved her dearly : — first, because he possessed a kindly affectioned nature ; next, because her parents had been friendly neighbours to him for the last thirty years ; — but more than all, because the chbd whom he had christened, the girl he had prepared for confirmation, was now a charming young woman, who made it one of her chief pleasures in bfe to lighten the cares of his daughter ; whose life was saddened by sobcitude for an only and ever-abing chbd. For this the grey-haired Rector felt as grateful to his young neighbour, as though she had been his superior in years and faculties. For Mrs. Burton, his tenderness was tinctured with a degree of morbid sensibihty and self-reproach.

Rachel had been the only daughter of his widowed fireside: — unusually lovely, unusually gifted ; — and he had not only spobed her, but by weak and narrow-sighted indulgence, marred her prospects in life. Educated in a showy London school, Rachel Henderson had formed connections more gay and bribiant than com ported with her condition ; and when eventually installed under the humble roof of Radensford Rectory, and her father saw her pining for brighter scenes, instead of endeavouring to in struct her in the happy art of home-keeping and home-adorning, he shrank from insisting on his claims to love and obedience. Ere the first stage of girlhood was overpast, when a preten dant to her hand presented himself, qualified, apparently, to place her in the gay worldly position she coveted, he accepted the proposals of Captain Burton, and even inconvenienced PROGRESS himself to produce a suitable dowry to facbitate the marriage, solely in the hope to brighten the listless countenance which he could scarcely recognise as that of his darling and once cheerful child.

But in this, the weak father sinned grievously against his better judgment. He neglected those searching inquiries by means of which every parent ought to be enabled to justify his sanction of a daughter's choice : and the results were disastrous. The smbes he had been so eager to restore to poor Rachel's countenance beamed only for a time. Haggard, careworn looks succeeded. The handsome and seemingly gabant and honourable young soldier proved to be a gambler and a sot ; and sad as it was to see his daughter reduced to despab by his untimely death, after less than three years' wed lock, leaving her the maintenance of an infirm infant, Mr. Henderson returned thanks to Heaven for the death of his son-in-law. Feeling doubly bound to cherish and comfort the poor girl whom he had allowed to fobow her own imprudent inclinations, he adopted at once and for ever the widow and orphan.