Felicia's Dowry

Chapter I

A CHRISTMAS PARTY. VOU will easily understand that, however much Mrs. Meriton and her daughters might be offended at the desertion of Cole worth, they were just now extremely inde pendent of county hospitality. Exactly the proper number of hours before Christmas, Lord Belgravia and Mr. Plantagenet Eaton arrived from different quarters at Elm Green. Equally punctual were Major and Mrs. Tyrell ; and so well arranged a little party had no thing to gain, you perceive, from the addition of country neighbours. Mr. Plantagenet Eaton was handsomer B VOL. than his brother ; he was also, it was con sidered, more airified than his brother. Adela, as his sister-elect, he treated with a sort of formal and stately courtesy ; but of the others of her family he could hardly be said to take notice. He bowed over the hand of Mrs. Meriton, as over the hand of the lady of the house ; he once or twice turned his eye-glass on Mr. Meriton ; and his cousin Kate he overlooked altogether.

The only person he ever permitted to talk to him was lovely, elegant little Mrs. Tyrell, by whose side he would usually take a seat for the half-hour he spent in the drawing-room after dinner, and whose gentle prattlings he rewarded with periodical downward glances of his violet eyes, and, to the best of my observation, with nothing else. The little lady, however, was more than content — she was happy ; telling her friends that he (Plant) could be the most agreeable crea ture. And though I confidently believe that this was only a guess on her part, I have no doubt it was a good guess. Lord Belgravia himself was an example to lovers ; so Mrs. Tyrell declared, and we admit that he wore his chain with sufficient grace. He took a proper and becoming in terest in the lovely patterns of toilettes pre paring for his bride ; he devoted a portion of almost every day to a ride on horseback with her ; and he passed the short evening by her side.

In the meantime Plant and Major Tyrell shot and hunted, Mrs. Tyrell was the frequent companion of Mrs. Meriton in that lady's pony carriage, and Kate was moderately disengaged. To the latter the most remarkable incident of the week was an offer of marriage from no other than S. Mildmay. A death in the b2 family of that gentleman had about this time deprived Mr. Dalton of his services ; and Kate, quite unsuspicious that he had left his heart behind him, was considerably startled when Mrs. Meriton, having followed up the customary ten minutes visit to her husband's study by a request to her eldest daughter to accompany her to her own apartment, placed the curate's letter in her, Kate's, hand. " Mamma, I am astonished !" " / am so, I confess," her mother replied. " Mr. Mildmay's attentions have not been very extraordinary.

There is, however, you see, no misunderstanding his letter." " I am very sorry." " Your father," Mrs. Meriton continued, " and I, have spoken together on the subject. He leaves you perfectly free to act as you think proper — as you may wish, in short. It is not an unexceptionable offer. Mr. Mildmay's father, however, is now a baronet, and — though he himself is only a younger son — there is a family living which must eventually, and probably soon, be his. It is a matter for your own decision entirely." " Oh, 1 do not think of it for a moment, mamma." " It is fair to remind you that your father and I do not expect all our daughters to marry noblemen." " Oh, I was not thinking of noblemen, mamma. Certainly not. Mr. Mildmay is more than good enough for me, only it does not happen that I " " His letter has taken you by surprise ?"

" Quite." " It may, perhaps, then, be as well to hold your decision for a little while in suspense." " Oh, not for a moment, mamma. The fact is, I like Mr. Mildmay extremely ; he is most amiable, and, besides that, very gifted and agreeable. But we have been used to indulge in little drolleries about him, and, in short, it is quite a different thing." " You are not very lucid, my dear ; pro bably, however, you understand yourself ; and, as I have told you, your father and I do not desire to interfere. Under the circumstances, it will, I believe, be better for you to answer Mr. Mildmay's letter." "Me! mamma." " It will only be necessary to say that you thank him very much for the high compliment he pays you, and that you regret exceedingly that you are unable to regard him otherwise than as an old friend.

Emma Tyrell and I are going to drive to Coleworth before lun cheon. Will you join us ?" " Perhaps, mamma, I had better write the letter." " Very well — and I daresay we shall all be walking in the afternoon. Remember me to Mr. Mildmay most kindly." Kate was not a first-rate letter writer, es pecially when, as on this occasion, she sup posed it needful to put forth her best. When left to herself, however, and after some con sideration, she composed a little note that she thought might do, and then put on her hat and shawl with the view of taking a walk in the immediate vicinity of the house. Let me recommend such a course to young ladies on a similar occasion. I can assure them, with the authority of personal experience, that a little note which has seemed, within the closed windows of our own apartment, pre cisely the right thing, on the composition of which we have plumed ourselves, in fact — may be found to have a tone that is rather stilted and affected in the open air.

It was so with Kate. She had, it must be owned, a little, a very little, exceeded her mother's in structions. Mrs. Meriton had commissioned her to remember her (Mrs. M.) most kindly to Mr. Mildmay; and Kate, in the tenderness of her heart, and in the recollec tion of what she had herself suffered in a disappointment not very many weeks old, had ventured to add sundry good wishes of her own. This was, as I have said, within closed windows. Now, in the open air, she perceived that these good wishes were un necessary. There was no parallel to be drawn between her case and that of the Rev. James Mildmay. The latter was a young clergyman, of a better regulated mind than she could at all pretend to ; moreover, he had not been so much in her society as to warrant her in supposing that he would entertain for her more than a very sober and reasonable sort of preference.

He probably, therefore, stood in no need of any particular compassion, and the simplicity of her mother's directions might — she saw — very humanely be adhered to. With this view of the matter, Kate tore her lemon-coloured note into little strips, and scattered them to the winds. She had not long done so, when she heard the halloo of Tom, and in another second or two that young gentleman came bounding from some of his own peculiar haunts to her side. " I say, Kate," he exclaimed in the most straightforward manner, " you ain't going to marry Mildmay, are you ?" " Certainly not, Tom." " There ! didn't I think it was too good news to be true ? Hang it ! I saw his handwriting on a letter to mamma, and kept one eye open on further proceedings, and, you see, I thought two and two must make four."

" You jump very soon to conclusions, Tom." "Yes ; and I am not too sure now that I jumped to wrong ones. You may as well tell a fellow. Has Mildmay proposed? Won't the Governor let you marry him ?" " Tom," said Miss Meriton, " mamma would be very much displeased at your asking such questions." " Mamma be blowed ! Then Mildmay has proposed, and the Governor won't let you marry him !" " It is nothing of the kind." '• Which is nothing of the kind ? But you need not trouble — I understand it quite, thank you. It is you that won't marry him, because he hasn't a great fortune, and isn't a lord." " Tom, you are very rude." " I shouldn't," the young gentleman con tinued, " have been surprised at Adela ; but I thought you were better stuff. Well, mind, I tell you, Mildmay is as good a fellow as ever put on shoes, and you've gone and made a mess of it.

It's just Elizabeth Elliot over again, and I hope you'll be served like her, and never get another offer as long as you live !" Having delivered his fire, Master Tom walked off, leaving his sister almost ready to cry, and not greatly disposed to prolong her walk. Tom was but Tom ; still his manner of treating the affair had really communicated to it a mild tint of romance, and Kate began to think that her torn and scattered lemon coloured note would have done extremely well. Returning to the house by the way she had come, she beheld, lying amongst the shrubs, some of the fragments her hand had dealt with so rashly. One of an indiscreet size particularly engaged her attention, and she stepped off the path to pick it out from under the boughs of a laurestinus. In the act, however, of subdividing the morceau, her fingers were arrested by the words that met her regards.

They were, " that I have seen something of Elm Green, and can pity you." These were not Kate's words ; the hand writing was not hers ; it was not, she now perceived, a fragment of her letter. She tossed it from her in the moment, and walked quickly forward ; but as she walked, an un comfortable feeling held possession of her mind. Who in the house could be receiving letters from a person who had " seen something of Elm Green," and either disliked or despised it ? The paper had been a pale-tinted satin paper, very similar to that used by herself ; the handwriting such as she had for an instant mistaken for her own. There was no possibility that any of the servants could have received such a letter ; moreover, the part of the grounds in which she was walking was not a part frequented by any servant what ever.

She repudiated with all her force the thought of Lord Belgravia ; yet it recurred to her again and again, agitating — terrifying her. Lord Belgravia often walked apart in that direction with his cigar. So might Major Tyrell, so might Mr. Eaton, only it did not happen that Kate had seen them. Mr. Eaton, it is true, did not smoke ; still, he might walk there. Why would Lord Belgravia keep com ing into her mind, he being so much the most improbable recipient of such a letter of the three ? Simply to torment her, she supposed, and to make her unwilling to speak to Adela of the incident. Unwilling or not, however, she would speak to Adela of the incident; that she had no hesitation about. Adela was not a person to torment herself without good cause to do so. Adela's quickness and clearsightedness would seize on the instant a probability which she (Kate) would not catch a glimpse of in a month.

And at the worst — if (which God forbid !) anything were amiss — then Kate's sense of right told her that Adela was the last person from whom it should be concealed. On one very proper reservation, Kate did not omit to determine, the reservation of her own impertinent uneasiness. In relating the little matter to Adela, Kate must carefully guard any inference of her own ; and to do this effectually, must have recourse to a dis simulation, justifiable, as we shall see, even on the score of probability, but which, never theless, cost her truthful mind a pang. Throwing her regards on the large clock as she passed through the hall, she found it wanted but twenty minutes of the luncheon hour, and hurried to her own room to re-write her note — this time without the officious good wishes. She had. just concluded it, when Adela entered, radiant from her ride.

" My poor Kate !" exclaimed Adela, moder ating her vivacity as she perceived what had been her sister's occupation. " My poor dear Kate !" And pausing at the little writing-table, she rather dolorously regarded the still unfolded billet-doux. Kate's eyes looked at her with a little surprise. " I am so sorry, dear, that your first offer should be one that it is necessary to refuse." " Necessary ! Well — yes — necessary, bett cause- " Exactly. But I hope you are not going to like him out of compassion. Robert says he fully expects it from you." " Robert ! Oh ! Adela, I hope this has not been made matter of discussion. But I suppose," she added, seeing the displeased colour rising in her sister's face as quickly as it had risen in her own, — " I suppose that Lord Bel gravia is privileged to be interested in all that interests us."

" I should think he is — the darling !" replied Miss Adela. "And S. Mildmay is a first favourite with him too, I assure you. I really think he is a little disposed to advo cate his cause. So am not I. Is this your answer ? May I read it ?" " Certainly." " I do not think," said Adela, "that he can gain much encouragement to persevere from this. Not that he is a very old friend, Kate." " Mamma dictated the note, Adela. But I think you should be taking off your habit. Had you a very nice ride ?" " Very ! As far, that is to say, as rides go ; I would rather walk." Kate looked up in surprise. Adela had so often said otherwise. " With Robert, I mean. I like to take his arm — and there are so many interruptions to conversation that do not occur in a walk. The week is nearly gone, and we seem to have said almost nothing.

Except in our rides we are scarcely ever alone." " But you are always secure of a tete-a-tete in the evening." " Under the observation of others. That is not what I mean ; it is almost worse than no tete-a-tete at all. One has to be so formal without the necessity being obvious enough. One says nothing, and it almost seems as if one VOL. HI. c had nothing to say. Don't be shocked, but half the time I am sitting there just looking and speaking like everybody else, and as if my dress and my wreath, and my going to be married to a lord were, all I was thinking of, I am wanting to throw myself into his arms and tell him how dearly I love him." " But, Adela, what a happy creature you are to love the man you are to be married to, so — sincerely !" " Yes — I am that ; and of course it would not be proper to act in such a manner.

At least, I suppose not. But, oh ! what an ad vantage our proper acting gives to persons who do not act properly ?" " My dear Adela ! What can we know about persons who do not act properly ?" " Still, one sometimes hears things that set one thinking; and I really believe that when men behave badly they often suppose that those they behave badly to don't care for them very much, and that — that the other people do." " But, Adela," said Kate, " as we are talk ing of such disagreeable and unusual things — one sometimes hears of married men behav ing badly, and that cannot be because they do not know. There is nothing to prevent a wife from throwing herself into her husband's arms and telling him how dearly she loves him." " I wish to goodness," exclaimed Adela. " / was a wife ! Oh ! Jones, where have you been ?

Will you fasten this cuff? — and my hair ribbon is untied." And Jones had scarcely fastened the hair ribbon and smoothed the bright hair itself when the luncheon bell pealed through the house. And Kate had not after all, you see, menc -2 tioned the little incident of the morning. She did so, however, the next time she was alone with her sister. " Adela," she said, " what visitors of ours do you think the Tyrells are likely to hear from?" " The Tyrells ! Impossible to say. I know of none." " Because an odd thing happened to me to day. In the first note I wrote to Mr. Mild may, I said a few words more than were necessary ; so when I was out in the shrub bery, while you were riding, I tore it up and threw it away. I did not go far, and on passing the same spot again close by the large laurestinus," &c. Adela's eyes opened wide as her sister pro ceeded, but she did not offer the interruption of a single remark.

When, however, the re cital was at an end, she asked, " Why did you suppose the letter was to the Tyrells ? " Kate said, with a blush she could not prevent, that she did not know why she supposed it. Adela turned her face for half a dozen mo ments to the looking-glass. To turn for half a dozen moments to the looking-glass, or to the window, was a trait of Adela's when dis pleased. " The letter," she said, at the end of that time, " was to Plantagenet Eaton, from Milli cent Jebb." Kate had never come near such a solution of her difficulty as this ; but a few moments' consideration made her sister's conviction her own, and it needed the displeased tone of Adela's voice and the angry flash of her eyes to remind her that the Mr fiancee had never shared her uneasiness, and was therefore no partner in her relief.

There was another thoughtful moment or two, and then Kate said, "I really think you must be right, Adela. It is not quite a pleasant idea, however." "It is a hateful one," responded Adela. " And, considering what we know, or think we know, of Plantagenet Eaton, it is extraordinary as well as uncomfortable. Do you think Millicent Jebb has money ?" " Certainly not." " Yet her father is a partner of Felicia's uncle." " True. But she is the eldest of a large family. You may not have heard, but I have, Frank tell mamma that she had ten brothers and sisters." " Then it is very extraordinary." There was a little pause, which Kate inter rupted by saying, " I did not mention it to mamma " " Oh ! no. Say nothing to mamma. You see," Adela added, a little pink colour steal ing over her face, " when one is in my posi tion, one must have in some little things a separate judgment of one's own.

Mamma has no secrets from papa, and papa might think the matter worth speaking of to Robert — and, in short, it is better to say nothing about it." " Shall not you endeavour to find out from Lord Belgravia whether he knows anything cf an engagement ?" " Lord Belgravia," said Adela, " is not at all the sort of person to ' endeavour to find out ' from. I might ask him whether he knows of.such an engagement, and he would tell me, or not tell me, exactly as he thought most right and honourable to Plantagenet. On the whole, I would rather not ask him. The matter, after all, does not particularly con cern us, and I think we had better forget it." Kate stood rebuked. Anything in the shape of concealment from her mother was as distasteful to her as it was new, yet in this instance Adela had, she thought, a right to dictate.

If the affairs of Lord Belgravia's brother did not particularly concern Adela, they certainly did not concern Adela's family. Kate had acted conscientiously, and with per fect openness towards her sister; and if she could not quite forget the little incident her self, she could at least forbear to call it to Adela's remembrance. Kate therefore silently acquiesced. " And," ejaculated she, " Plantagenet Eaton will soon be gone." "Alas!" said Adela, "some one else will soon be gone too." And, according to her trait in displeasure or emotion, she turned to the window. "I shall feel parting with him terribly, far more than I did last time. Kate, I hardly know how I shall bear it." Thus appealed to, and hearing the pain in Adela's voice, Kate came up behind her, and put an arm gently round her waist.

Tears were trembling in Adela's eyes. " My darling!" said Kate, as few but Kate could say it; and Adela threw her arms round her sister's neck, and fairly cried on her shoulder; Kate, too, crying for sympathy. This little unusual and really uncalled for scene was naturally of short duration. Adela, especially, was very soon again smiling like May after her shower of tears. " I have been perfectly absurd!" she said. "I think I de serve to be whipped; when it is only, after all, a little patience that is wanted. But I never was patient, Katie, in illness, or any thing, was I?" And "Katie" fondly assured her that she was patient; that parting was a sad trial to anybody; and seven weeks seemed a long time, only that they would soon be over. So they petted and praised each other, and rung for Jones and their early tea, and the last thing they saw, before Jones drew their blinds, was Lord Belgravia walking away with his cigar towards the shrubbery.

" The darling!" ex claimed Adela; and though his lordship could not have heard the exclamation, he by good luck did glance up at the window of his lady love, and, seeng her, kissed his hand so pleasantly as to perfect her recovery, and send her to her fireside, and to the little doze with which she sometimes refreshed her lovely looks for the evening, in excellent spirits. Kate did not doze, but she occupied an arm chair corresponding to that of her sister on the opposite side of the fire, and, leaning back in this, and regarding the charming face of Adela, so sweet and youthful in its repose, she found herself wondering whether Margaret Elliot was ever the prey of such impatience, such depression, as she had recently witnessed. It was well, however, Kate thought a few days afterwards, that this impatience and de pression had found vent in the manner and at the time it had done.

The relief enabled Adela, she saw, to bear better the departure of Lord Belgravia when it took place. She really parted from him with fortitude and even some cheerfulness. Plantagenet had left the after noon before New Year's Day ; the Tyrells were due at Leamington on the 2nd of the month; and on the morning of the 4th Lord Belgravia drove his phaeton and thorough bred horses down the avenue on their way to the station. When the carriage ceased to be seen, a few tears fell from the eyes of Adela on the face of the costly little watch he had left in her hands; but these were followed by no others, and, placing the trinket in her bosom, she smiled brightly in her sister's face, saying, and then again repeating, " In six weeks and four days I shall be his wife."

Chapter II

A NEW LORD MELFORD. \J"0, Margaret Elliot was not a prey to any such impatience or depression as the elder Miss Meriton had seen exhibited by her sister. With Margaret — though her marriage had been twice postponed — all was peace, and trust, and joy, chastened by the prospect of an inevitable separation from her father and sisters, but untroubled by any anxiety whatever. She had returned to the Grange soon after the death of Lord Melford ; and Allan Grant, who had with difficulty quitted his post at that time to accompany his brother to Nice, found himself unable to do more than spend Christmas Day itself with the lady of his love. I think, how ever, that Margaret scarcely regretted this. The shock felt by Sir Geoffrey at the death of his old friend, though borne far better than most persons anticipated, was still the occasion of serious anxiety to his daughters ; and the depression consequent on it was only to be counteracted by their most attentive solicitude.

Moreover, it was Margaret Elliot's last Christmas at the Grange, as Margaret Elliot, and she was desirous of performing for the last time all the home labours of love peculiar to that joyfully solemn season with even more, rather than less, efficiency than had been her wont. Another Christ mas she should belong to a husband and a husband's relations. This last Christmas of belonging to herself she felt an especial pleasure in dedicating wholly to rela tions of her own. The important event to look forward to between Christmas aud her marriage was the arrival of the new Lord Melford at the Castle. This would be an important event in more eyes than her own. Yet the expectation of it in the county was less excit ing than it might well have been. A Very Reverend Lord Melford was not highly acceptable to the gentlemen of the neighbour hood.

The Castle would present, they deemed it probable, in future, more of the grave dignity of a bishop's palace, fewer of the gay characteristics of a nobleman's seat. And for the ladies of the county, a vague rumour of a matrimonial engagement had begun to spread ; which vague rumour, aris ing no one knew with whom — we can only hope our friend Lady Jane was not in any way chargeable with it — moderated female enthusiasm greatly. An unmarried Lord Melford, dean or no dean, would have been, I have no doubt, cordially welcomed by them — a married Lord Melford — seeing that his lordship had attained the sober age of six and-thirty years — could not have been fairly complained of ; but an engaged Lord Melford amounted to a grievance. Margaret had reconciled herself. She acknowledged too many blessings in her own lot to be captious on the score of a sister-in-law.

" We know," she said to Elizabeth, " that dear Aunt Jane does not easily get over a dislike ; and she has evidently, either with or without cause, disliked Lady Powerham. The rumour may be true, or it may not — I incline to the latter opinion. But I think we may be quite sure of this, that any lady Lord Melford loves, whether she is seven-and thirty, or seventeen, we shall be very able to love also." And Elizabeth replied, " I entirely agree with you, dear." " I am a little afraid of Elm Green curiosity on the point," said Margaret on another occasion, when there began to be question of personally returning the visits of inquiry that had been made at their door after the death of Lord Melford. "They may suppose me likely to be in possession of the truth." "A supposition, surely, that should seal their lips !" observed one of her sisters.

"And, at all events, being ignorant my self, I can betray nothing. It is," Margaret continued, "along time since I have had a talk with Kate. I shall really be glad to see her again, and that dear, happy Adela. How radiant she looked the morning we met her riding with Lord Belgravia. Did I tell you that I saw Mrs. Frank Meriton the day before I left London ? Our carriages passed each vol. III. D other in Regent Street, and we bowed. She was looking rather ill, I thought — thinner than she used to do, though very interesting and elegant, and seemed to be very richly dressed." " Was she alone ?" Anne asked. " No. Miss Jebb was with her." More than once a day had been named for the arrival of Lord Melford at the Castle, and the Castle had expected him, and the expectation of the Castle had become the expecta tion of the county, and Lord Melford had not arrived.

At length, on a snowing twelfth of January, he arrived unexpectedly, and con sequently without, so to speak, any flourish of trumpets whatsoever. He arrived, I say, unexpectedly ; unostentatiously, also, and at tended only by his personal servant. Simply he asked for dinner, and sent for the head man of business, who resided about three miles from the Castle ; and the first intima tion of his arrival received at the Grange, came in the form of a note to Sir Geoffrey, from the Earl, asking leave to present himself at Sir Geoffrey's luncheon-table on the follow ing day. How acceptable this note proved to more of the Grange family than Margaret, I think I need not say. Sir Geoffrey, finished gentleman of the old school as he was, could now own to himself that he might have felt to a certain extent embarrassed between a desire to pay instant and cordial attention to the brother of Allan Grant, to a Church dignitary and a peer, and a reluctance to be amongst the first to feter, in his new position, the once rejected suitor of his eldest daughter.