Alice Wentworth

Chapter I

No, no, no ! No quiero casarme ! Que es mejor, que es m£jor star soltera ! Y siempre placentera Del mundo, del mundo gozar ! SPANISH SONG. One forenoon, towards the end of April, about twelve years ago, Mrs. Clayton, the wife of a wealthy London banker, was VOL. I. B sitting in the drawing-room of a house in Belgrave Square, with her niece, Mrs. Bramstone, then on a visit to her cousin, Miss Wentworth, who was related in the same degree as herself to Mrs. Clayton. " No, Sophy," said the elder lady, " I will have no message sent to Alice : I would not have her hurried for the world. I know she will not be long, and in the meantime I shall enjoy a little quiet chat with you, dear ; for I feel as if I had hardly seen you since your marriage. " You are very kind, aunt," replied the other. " It is, indeed, a long time since we have met, and I fear we should scarcely have done so even now, if Alice had not asked us here; for you know we should not be likely to spend a season in town on our own account, though I confess I am delighted at having the opportunity of doing so in this way."

" It is most natural you should, my dear," said Mrs. Clayton : " such friends as you and Alice have always been, and brought up together. It is a most heartfelt pleasure to me that you are come — to me and to your uncle too. I may say, Sophy," added she, lowering her voice, " it is a comfort as well as a pleasure to us both that you are here. For besides the satisfaction of seeing you so well and happy, dear child, which you may believe is great," (she took her niece's hand as she spoke) " it is such a thing to know that, notwithstanding dear Alice's rashness (for so I fear I must call it) in proposing at her age, and under her circumstances, to live absolutely without any protector or even permanent companion ; B she will, nevertheless, this spring, and I trust for a longer period, have in you and Mr. Bramstone the most unexceptionable cha peron and escort, both at home and elsewhere.

I do not know what you think, Sophy, but I confess I cannot reconcile myself to the idea of her living alone. It is so unnatural — gives such a handle for criticism, and in her position every step she takes is liable to be so much canvassed." " What you say is very true, aunt," rejoined Mrs. Bramstone, " but she is sure of being scarcely ever really alone ; there will be always some intimate friend or relation she can have with her. And it is so difficult to find such a ' companion' as one would like to have perpetually with one ; while, at the same time Alice, would not think it right or kind to have a person living in her houses to take up and lay down according to her own convenience : so that it is a choice of difficulties; and reaUy she has so much sense and steadiness, that I think she may do what would not be suitable for every one."

"Ah, my dear," answered Mrs. Clayton, " sense and steadiness are of no avail in such a situation — it is suitable for no one ; and I can assure you that more than one lady has been named to her, both by me and by the Stansfields ; by other friends too, to whom no such objection could possibly attach. A charming woman — the one I recommended — whose society could never have been otherwise than delightful to Alice, and whose connections would have rendered an intimacy with her not only advantageous, but desirable. I confess I had hoped — but it is in vain to discuss the point now, though the plan I mentioned only occurred to your uncle and me, on the failure of the expectation on which we so fully relied — that of seeing Alice make our house her home, as I must say I thought it but natural she should have done on your dear mother's death, Sophy.

Not that I could make any decided objection to her remaining where she was, so long as she had that excellent Miss Dalton about her. I could not blame her attachment to a governess who had brought her up ; and it was a respectable, if not distinguished chaperonage. But now she has lost her too, and still will neither replace her by a companion, nor yet come to Hill Street, and be our child. I have no words to express the terror I feel on seeing to what she is exposing herself. So long as you and Mr. Bramstone are here, it is all very well; and if I could hope that your visit was to turn into — was to end by becoming a residence — " " Oh, aunt," interrupted Mrs. Bramtsone, " no one contemplates that. Alice does not, I am sure ; and if she did, though I should think it pleasant in some respects, I hardly know if Philip would.

Indeed, I am sure he would decline such an arrange ment, were it proposed, which I feel sure it never will be." " I am sorry to hear it," said Mrs. Clayton, " sorry there seems no chance of Alice's wishing to make so suitable and proper a state of things permanent, for were she ever to express such a wish, I am willing to hope that Mr. Bramstone would allow no private consideration to interfere with what would be so conducive to the peace and safety of your cousin, and in her of your whole family." Mrs. Bramstone found it so difficult to frame a ready reply, that she was much relieved at the conversation's being cut short, by the entrance of her who formed the subject of it. Alice Wentworth, on coming into the room, apologized to her aunt for her delay in appearing, spoke with unfeigned delight of her happiness "in having Sophy once again with her, as in old times," and then listened respectfully to several observations made by Mrs. Clayton, in which she gave vent, though less openly than before, to her regret and disapproval of the young heiress's resolution to live alone in her own house.

" I am afraid, aunt," said she, smiling, " you must think me not only very wilful, but very silly and light also, from your being in such fear of what is to happen to me in this good, well-fastened house, with so many friends near me. Not to speak of the police outside, and old Slade and my new dog within." " My sweet Alice," rejoined Mrs. Clayton, " I know what you are. I was always sensible that if any girl could boast of premature discretion, it was yourself. Do not suspect me of want of confidence in your natural sense or your good principles. No ; but there are dangers necessarily consequent on your position — dangers," she added, with a sigh, " which neither the police nor good old Slade can ward off. My dear child, you cannot be a beauty and an heiress with impunity. On the one hand you excite envy, on the other there are snares laid for you ; and in these days, the things Herbert has told me of some of the men he is obliged occasionally to associate with, fill me with dread of what may be attempted by one sort, and still more of what may be said by another."

" Well, my dear aunt," replied Alice, gravely but calmly, " I hope I am not overventuresome ; but I have resolved to make the trial, and I trust I shaU get into no greater difficulties than would befall me under any circumstances. If it should prove otherwise, however, I shall not be too proud or too obstinate to confess my mistake ; and I do not despair of some of my relations being even then kind enough to receive me, in spite of my attempt at independence, for I can hardly conceive the circumstance that could induce me to take a companion." " I know at least of one relation who would be too happy !" exclaimed her aunt, warmly ; " and I believe we may trust to your candour for allowing the existence of those perils which will not fail to beset your path. In the meantime, you can enjoy yourself in all safety this spring.

I am quite happy about you now Sophy is here." Having thus spoken, Mrs. Clayton rose to take her departure, but stopped, after she had risen, to say to her niece Alice : " I cannot tell you how much what you just said has comforted me ! — and do you know it strikes me the more from its coinciding with what Herbert has ex pressed more than once when he has seen me out of spirits about your plans, dear child. Two or three times he has said : ' Mother, do not make yourself unhappy ; you will see Alice has too much sense, too much good feeling to persevere in a rash project, when she meets — as she will and must — with all she has to encounter. You will see her one day acknowledge her » error — perhaps even willing to share our home.' " " It is very kind of Herbert to take so much interest," said Miss Wentworth, when her aunt paused as in expectation of some reply.

" He does, indeed, take deep interest in all that concerns you, Alice," continued Mrs. Clayton, with emphasis. " He is very kind," repeated Miss Went worth, " and so are you, aunt ; but I must not let you expect too much from my sense or right feeling either, for fear of disappointing you. I do not think it likely — though it is no doubt possible — that I should change my plan of life." " Well, my dear, it is no use discussing the point at present. I dare say it will be changed for you before very long, in a different manner to what we have been contemplating." And having kissed her two nieces, Mrs Clayton departed. When she was gone, the cousins looked at each other, and smiled. " What a duty Aunt Clayton makes of putting herself into a fidget about me!" said Alice. " But this I can tell her, that I must get into a very bad scrape indeed before I fly for protection to her or to her dear Herbert either, though they all do say he is such a miracle of steadiness and dutifulness.

Conceive what it would be, Sophy, to live with them ! No, I may be presumptuous, but I believe that I can get on as I am without either losing my cha racter or marrying a scapegrace. At all events, I will run my chance ; and if the worst comes to the worst, I dare say you and Philip will have the charity to take me in, for — I hope I am not very wrong in thinking so — I believe I would as soon go to the workhouse as to Uncle and Aunt Clayton's." " I suspect I should too," answered her cousin. " But do not you think you might so far satisfy them, as — " " No, Sophy, no ; for the reasons I told M you. " And I repeated those reasons to mv aunt," observed Mrs. Bramstone. " And what is more," proceeded Alice, " I doubt if they would be satisfied. Cer tain it is that I could not please all my relations, for the Claytons had one ' charming woman' to whom ' I could not - fail of becoming warmly attached.' The Stansfields had another equally charm ing protegee to bestow on me.

Even good, innocent Mary Thornton (to name no others) had a delightful person to re commend ; and between you and me, it is my impression that each set, with the ex ception of poor, kind Mary, intended to rule and direct my actions through the companion they gave me. While your mother lived, Sophy, it never occurred to me — even on my becoming legally my own mistress — to wish for any greater freedom than I had enjoyed ever since I was eighteen; nor would it, had she been spared, ever have occurred to me. But it is one thing to look up to and be guided by an aunt I loved like a mother, and who had been as a mother to me from childhood ; and quite another to yield my self up, body and soul, to relations I never loved, and for whom I have very httle esteem. Therefore, when I found, two months back, that Miss Dalton was obliged to go home to her father, I determined that, come what might, I would try living by myself, and doing for a while, as far as a human creature can, 'just what I like ;' in which I have, at least, begun suecessfully, inasmuch as you and your hus band have been able and willing to come up and spend the season with me.

It would be hard if, in my, capacity of heiress, which has so many drawbacks, I might not enjoy the one real advantage it affords — independence !" " Well, I don't know but you are right," replied Mrs. Bramstone, " only what you just said, Alice, is to my mind rather an exaggeration of the matter of fact, if not a paradox; for you know, with all the deductions you may fairly make, there are other advantages in your position, and such as you taste keenly too." " So there are," answered Alice ; " and I was a discontented creature to forget them. For I do enjoy myself most hear tily; and now you are come, everything VOL. I. c will be better still ! I suppose it is very babyish, but I, well turned of two-and twenty, am as much dehghted with rides in the Park, and operas and balls, as Caro line Oakley, who is only seventeen.

It all seems new to me, though it is not so in fact. I believe the secret is that, in former days, I was first too pre-occupied and then too unhappy to be pleased with what was going on. But I am a different creature now to what I was this time three years, when you and I were last in London; and I do like to dance all night, and every dance too, without troubling myself as to whether my partners are, or are not, the 'greatest scamps in England,' or particu larly investigating their motives for crowd ing round me as they do. They have good and sufficient reasons, I doubt not !" " Now, Alice, you are in one of your suspicious moods, and there is no use talking to you. Aunt Clayton has pro voked you, so you speak as if you thought evil of every creature." " That 1 do not— that you know I do not, Sophy," said Miss Wentwrorth, em bracing her cousin ; " but without joking, there is something very annoying in the position of a woman w*ho has the name of an heiress.

There is no one to hear what I say, and you w7ill not go and make Philip laugh at my lamentations. But it is a fact that the better sort of men — those from among whom one w*ould be most willing to take a companion for life — literally shun girls whom they think they may be suspected of seeking for inte rested motives. Not that they dislike c money and lands, or the pleasure and influence they bring, but their pride is stronger than their desire of wealth and ease; and possibly, in their place, I should do as they do, for all it is mighty stupid. Only you see how this state of things ex poses me, and such as me, to the almost exclusive pursuit of a herd of wretches — yes, wretches — it is not too strong a word — creatures who, having, no shame in them, are indifferent to its being pubhcly visible that they take their chance of an heiress to save themselves from the poverty they have earned by every vice and extra vagance !

I confess I do not wonder that any decent man should scruple to put himself on the ranks with such beings ; but it is unlucky for me, you per ceive." 3J «-■ "Alice, you will never persuade me," said her cousin, " that you have no other choice than among such people as you describe. Were you only ' the rich Miss Wentworth,' I might believe it ; but when I look at you, I cannot conceive it pos sible there should be none of what you call the ' better sort' who would gladly seek you for your own sake, were there not a general idea (most groundless, I am convinced) that you will only surrender your independence to one who can give you almost princely rank in exchange." " They have settled that, I conclude," answered Alice, "just because I have re fused the string of spendthrifts and fools who have done me the honour to offer me their hearts and hands.

It is pos sible I may have had some such modest lover as you suppose ; but I have seen little token of the sort of thing. There have been, indeed, some harmless individuals who have laid themselves at my feet, well backed and urged by mothers and aunts, but they came mostly under the ' class simpleton.' If any men really supe rior to the worthless or the silly division of my suitors have wasted a thought on me, I suppose they looked for such an amount of encouragement as they were not likely to get without rather more demon stration on their own side. Look here, Sophy," continued Miss Wentworth, rising and opening a small drawer in an Indian cabinet, " it is worth your while to look at this collection of specimens ! Take them out one by one, and tell me' which of these precious epistles is the most foolish, and which the most impertinent !

Oh ! you look as if you thought it a shame of me to keep such things, though you cannot help laughing too, in spite of yourself. Well, I have never shown them to any creature but you ; and some are so exquisitely ridiculous, it would be a pity to burn them. I assure you that such an array of proposals as this, is not calculated to increase one's vanity." She said these words with a gravity bordering on sadness, and sat down again with so pensive a look, that her cousin exclaimed, after contemplating her awhile: " How few would believe the effect pro duced by all the flattery lavished on you ! One would think you had only known mortifications." " Oh ! it is no philosophy or virtue of mine !" replied Alice. " One sound vexa tion may stand in the place of many." She was silent for a time, and then added, in a less serious tone : " I rather think, to speak the exact truth, I should confess that there is some one whom 1 might choose if I were inclined, who is neither a simpleton nor a scapegrace ; and that is Henry DarreU's friend, Frederick Vivian."

" Frederick Vivian ! " repeated Mrs. Bramstone. " I remember George Darrell used to laugh at you about him long ago, after that visit you paid at Darrell Place more than two years back. He was there, and George and Henry both said he was wonderfully smitten." " I do not know how much truth there was in that," said Alice ; " but (though his father has come into a very good property since) he was very poor in those days ; and I have sometimes fancied that Aunt Darrell, who, you know, values him so much for being such a good friend to Henry, would have liked to have promoted a match which she thought would have been advantageous to him in one way and to me in another, by securing me from the danger I had so narrowly escaped. But I was not likely to fancy Frederick Vivian or any one else then, and I have never met him again till lately."

" He is good-looking, is he not ? I know I thought him so the day we fetched you home from Darrell Place, and I know you found him clever and agreeable. Alice, you have no right to complain of any one but yourself if you discourage him." " He is all you say ; and if I were obliged to make a choice, if I were driven to go and live with Aunt Clayton, or had a companion forced upon me against my will, I should accept Frederick Vivian, if he proposed to me, without a moment's hesitation. I think very well of him (though Aunt Clayton came here the other day on purpose to remark that he or any friend of my cousin Henry's must be very unprincipled), and I am sure that his feelings, whatever they may be, are at least disinterested. But I want to enjoy my liberty a little longer. I have made no vow against marriage, have no wish to lead a single life for ever ; yet one of my great motives for fighting this hard battle to hve by myself, has been, that I might never feel the necessity of marrying, to have a house of my own, and to be inde pendent.

No : I wish to marry not only as I please, but when I please. You smile, Sophy. You are thinking, that if I am to be so very particular I shall never marry at ah, and perhaps you may be right." " I only smiled because it seems much as if, in spite of your, complaints of being surrounded ' by ' wretches, ' their atten tions please you better than Frederick Vivian's." quite so far as that," in her turn ; " but," " I will not go said Alice, smiling continued she, her countenance assuming a slightly perturbed expression, " it is an odd thing, that even of those very few persons who seem to have had a disinterested preference for me, not one has appeared to love me like that man, who gave me (in time !) such full proof of his true motives. You will say it was all acting — but what assures me that they are not equally acting, only in a less per fect manner?"

" He, indeed, seemed thoroughly in ear nest," observed Mrs. Bramstone : " seemed equally unable either to hide or to assume any feeling : seemed so from boyhood ; and yet — " " We have seen what it all meant," remarked Alice, dryly. " Could it be possible, in spite of everything," began Mrs. Bramstone, but she was interrupted by Alice's exclaiming: " Do not go on ! it is not possible, Sophy. At all events, there is no use conjecturing — though, do you know," con tinued she, lowering her voice, " to my great surprize, I saw him the other day when I was out in the carriage. More over, I think he saw me ; and though it was but one moment's glance, his counte nance changed at once. I conclude he is not one of those who are literally, absolutely without shame — as yet, at least. Whether he is staying in town, or was just passing through, I know not, nor does it signify.

But, to speak of what concerns us rather more : tell me, Sophy, do you still adhere to your intention of not going to Lady Bridgenorth's to-night ? Mrs. Fitzgerald is ready to chaperon me, so that I am in no difficulty myself whichever way you decide ; but I think you would meet a great many people you know. Will you not change your mind ?" " I think not, Alice," replied her cousin, " as you really are provided with a chaperon ; for I am not half rested from yesterday's journey, my head-ache grows rather worse than better, and I could not enjoy it. Then there will be Philip arriving just about the time I should have to dress (his note this morning said he could not be here till late) ; and if there is a thing puts men out, it is finding you getting ready for a ball when they do not expect it."

" Well," said Alice, " I am sorry your head is worse ; and I dare say you are right. But Philip is not to grow tiresome about balls so early in the day. I reckon upon him as well as you to go with me to-morrow to the Larpents." " Oh ! so you may," answered Mrs. Bramstone : " he is very tractable on the subject, and indeed likes the thing as much as most people when he is once in it. But the first night, you know — " " I quite understand," said Alice, " and I would not for the world frighten him on his very entrance into the house at what he may have to undergo. And as I may be very late to-night, and consequently not be down till some dreadful hour to morrow, I shall desire breakfast to be ready for you both at whatever time you choose ; for you are not to think of wait ing for me, and I expect you to do exactly as if you were at home."

Chapter II

Gentle as breeze that but whispers and dies, Yet blythe as the light leaves that dance in its sighs ; Courteous as monarch the day he is crown' d, Gen'rous as dew springs that bathe the glad ground. SCOTT. The evening came, and Alice Wentworth dressed for Lady Bridgenorth's party. The shade of sadness which had come over her during part of her morning's conversation with her cousin had vanished, and she now not only seemed but was fully alive to that night's prospect of pleasure. She was by nature lively, and ready to take part in whatever entertainment offered itself; so that, although too quick-sighted to be in toxicated by the adulation she received, and possessed of too much sensibility not to feel various circumstances which more or less alloyed the advantages she owned, she on the whole enjoyed them ; and it was not her habit either to look back on past vexations (unless recalled to her by some adventitious occurrence) or to dwell on present ones.

She was the more disposed to enter with spirit on the gaieties of the present season, as she had passed the preceding spring in absolute seclusion, owing to the death of Mrs. Langdale, the aunt who had D VOL. I. ALICE WTENTWORTH. brought her up ; and having taken the bold resolution of living by herself, and being literally as well as legally her own mistress, she determined, like the wise king of old, to " prove her heart with mirth," to open her house to all whom the society in which she lived counted worthy to be received, and to taste fully of all that her brilliant position placed in her power, while youth enabled her to prize it. Such being her mood, it may be readily believed that after the completion of her toilette, she looked with no dissatisfied glance on the reflection of her tall and graceful form, and that her large bright eyes flashed still more brightly, when, on going down to the drawing-room, she felt the admiring gaze, with which her cousin Sophy and her husband, who had just arrived, contemplated her appearance.

Mrs. Fitzgerald presently stopped at the door. Alice bid her cousin good-night, and Philip Bramstone, after seeing her into her chaperon's carriage, ejaculated, as he returned into the drawing-room : " That is a fine girl, if ever there was one !" She, in the mean time proceeded to her destination, and speedily found herself en gaged for more dances than could possibly be danced, were the ball to continue till seven next morning. Her manner was repulsive to none : lively, and what is called " good-natured," to those who entertained her; but yet not such as to inspire much hope of pleasing her beyond the present moment. To that moment, and to its pleasure, she gave herself up so evidently, so entirely, that it was only D a very self-satisfied man, who could have drawn, from the courteous ease of her bearing, the conclusion, "that she enjoyed/ the ball on his account."

Be that as it may, she did enjoy it. Some of her partners danced well, others were amusing companions, ah were at pains to please her. Late in the evening, however, but while the rooms were still a good deal crowded, as Mrs. Fitzgerald's nephew Captain Vaughan, was leading her to join the dance that was just beginning, her eyes met those of a singularly handsome young man who stood in the doorway. A flash of delighted surprize animated his face for a moment, but was instantly succeeded by an indescribable expression, in which something painful seemed to mingle. He half started forward, but checked himself, and bowed without moving from where he was, while Miss Wentworth returned his salutation with a deep blush, and a look of great emotion. It was momentary, however, for on her partner's remarking " that he saw she knew ' Beautiful Dar reU,' " she replied with perfect composure : "Yes, I used to see a good deal of him formerly ; he is related to some of my cousins.