CHAPTER XXVII.
ONCE MORE BACK TO BELTON.
When the carriage was driven away, Sir Anthony and Captain Aylmerwere left standing alone at the hall door of the house. The servantshad slunk off, and the father and son, looking at each other, feltthat they also must slink away, or else have some words together onthe subject of their guest's departure. The younger gentleman wouldhave preferred that there should be no words, but Sir Anthony wascurious to know something of what had passed in the house during thelast few days. "I'm afraid things are not going quite comfortable,"he said.
"It seems to me, sir," said his son, "that things very seldom do goquite comfortable."
"But, Fred,--what is it all about? Your mother says that Miss Amedrozis behaving very badly."
"And Miss Amedroz says that my mother is behaving very badly."
"Of course;--that's only natural. And what do you say?"
"I say nothing, sir. The less said the soonest mended."
"That's all very well; but it seems to me that you, in your position,must say something. The long and the short of it is this. Is she tobe your wife?"
"Upon my word, sir, I don't know."
They were still standing out under the portico, and as Sir Anthonydid not for a minute or two ask any further questions, Captain Aylmerturned as though he were going into the house. But his father hadstill a word or two to say. "Stop a moment, Fred. I don't oftentrouble you with advice."
"I'm sure I'm always glad to hear it when you offer any."
"I know very well that in most things your opinion is better thanmine. You've had advantages which I never had. But I've had moreexperience than you, my dear boy. It stands to reason that in somethings I must have had more experience than you." There was a tone ofmelancholy in the father's voice as he said this which quite touchedhis son, and which brought the two closer together out in the porch."Take my word for it," continued Sir Anthony, "that you are muchbetter off as you are than you could be with a wife."
"Do you mean to say that no man should marry?"
"No;--I don't mean to say that. An eldest son ought to marry, so thatthe property may have an heir. And poor men should marry, I suppose,as they want wives to do for them. And sometimes, no doubt, a manmust marry--when he has got to be very fond of a girl, and hascompromised himself, and all that kind of thing. I would never adviseany man to sully his honour." As Sir Anthony said this he raisedhimself a little with his two sticks and spoke out in a bolder voice.The voice however, sank again as he descended from the realms ofhonour to those of prudence. "But none of these cases are yours,Fred. To be sure you'll have the Perivale property; but that isnot a family estate, and you'll be much better off by turning itinto money. And in the way of comfort, you can be a great deal morecomfortable without a wife than you can with one. What do you want awife for? And then, as to Miss Amedroz,--for myself I must say that Ilike her uncommonly. She has been very pleasant in her ways with me.But,--somehow or another, I don't think you are so much in love withher but what you can do without her." Hereupon he paused and lookedhis son full in the face. Fred had also been thinking of the matterin his own way, and asking himself the same question,--whether he wasin truth so much in love with Clara that he could not live withouther. "Of course I don't know," continued Sir Anthony, "what has takenplace just now between you and her, or what between her and yourmother; but I suppose the whole thing might fall through withoutany further trouble to you,--or without anything unhandsome on yourpart?" But Captain Aylmer still said nothing. The whole thing might,no doubt, fall through, but he wished to be neither unjust norungenerous,--and he specially wished to avoid anything unhandsome.After a further pause of a few minutes, Sir Anthony went on again,pouring forth the words of experience. "Of course marriage is allvery well. I married rather early in life, and have always found yourmother to be a most excellent woman. A better woman doesn't breathe.I'm as sure of that as I am of anything. But God bless me,--of courseyou can see. I can't call anything my own. I'm tied down here and Ican't move. I've never got a shilling to spend, while all these lazyhounds about the place are eating me up. There isn't a clerk with ahundred a year in London that isn't better off than I am as regardsready money. And what comfort have I in a big house, and no endof gardens, and a place like this? What pleasures do I get out ofit? That comes of marrying and keeping up one's name in the countyrespectably! What do I care for the county? D---- the county! I oftenwish that I'd been a younger son,--as you are."
Captain Aylmer had no answer to make to all this. It was, no doubt,the fact that age and good living had made Sir Anthony altogetherincapable of enjoying the kind of life which he desiderated, and thathe would probably have eaten and drunk himself into his grave longsince had that kind of life been within his reach. This, however,the son could not explain to the father. But in fitting, as heendeavoured to do, his father's words to his own case, CaptainAylmer did perceive that a bachelor's life might perhaps be themost suitable to his own peculiar case. Only he would do nothingunhandsome. As to that he was quite resolved. Of course Clara mustshow herself to be in some degree amenable to reason and to theordinary rules of the world; but he was aware that his mother washot-tempered, and he generously made up his mind that he would giveMiss Amedroz even yet another chance.
At the hotel in London Clara found a short note from Mrs. Askerton,in which she was warmly assured that everything should be done tomake her comfortable at the cottage as long as she should wish tostay there. But the very warmth of affection thus expressed madeher almost shrink from what she was about to do. Mrs. Askerton wasno doubt anxious for her coming; but would her cousin Will Beltonapprove of the visit; and what would her cousin Mary say about it?If she was being driven into this step against her own approval, bythe insolence of Lady Aylmer,--if she was doing this thing simplybecause Lady Aylmer had desired her not to do it, and was doing it inopposition to the wishes of the man she had promised to marry as wellas to her own judgment, there could not but be cause for shrinking.And yet she believed that she was right. If she could only have hadsome one to tell her,--some one in whom she could trust implicitly todirect her! She had hitherto been very much prone to rebel againstauthority. Against her aunt she had rebelled, and against her father,and against her lover. But now she wished with all her heart thatthere might be some one to whom she could submit with perfect faith.If she could only know what her cousin Will would think. In him shethought she could have trusted with that perfect faith;--if only hewould have been a brother to her.
But it was too late now for doubting, and on the next day she foundherself getting out of the old Redicote fly, at Colonel Askerton'sdoor. He came out to meet her, and his greeting was very friendly.Hitherto there had been no great intimacy between him and her, owingrather to the manner of life adopted by him than to any cause ofmutual dislike between them. Mrs. Askerton had shown herself desirousof some social intercourse since she had been at Belton, but withColonel Askerton there had been nothing of this. He had come thereintending to live alone, and had been satisfied to carry out hispurpose. But now Clara had come to his house as a guest, and heassumed towards her altogether a new manner. "We are so glad to haveyou," he said, taking both her hands. Then she passed on into thecottage, and in a minute was in her friend's arms.
"Dear Clara;--dearest Clara, I am so glad to have you here."
"It is very good of you."
"No, dear; the goodness is with you to come. But we won't quarrelabout that. We will both be ever so good. And he is so happy thatyou should be here. You'll get to know him now. But come up-stairs.There's a fire in your room, and I'll be your maid for theoccasion,--because then we can talk." Clara did as she was bid andwent up-stairs; and as she sat over the fire while her friend kneltbeside her,--for Mrs. Askerton was given to such kneelings,--shecould not but tell herself that Belton Cottage was much morecomfortable than Aylmer Park. During the whole time of her sojournat Aylmer Park no word of real friendship had once greeted herears. Everything there had been cold a
nd formal, till coldness andformality had given way to violent insolence.
"And so you have quarrelled with her ladyship," said Mrs. Askerton."I knew you would."
"I have not said anything about quarrelling with her."
"But of course you have. Come, now; don't make yourself disagreeable.You have had a downright battle;--have you not?"
"Something very like it, I'm afraid."
"I am so glad," said Mrs. Askerton, rubbing her hands.
"That is ill-natured."
"Very well. Let it be ill-natured. One isn't to be good-natured allround, or what would be the use of it? And what sort of woman isshe?"
"Oh dear; I couldn't describe her. She is very large, and wears agreat wig, and manages everything herself, and I've no doubt she's avery good woman in her own way."
"I can see her at once;--and a very pillar of virtue as regardsmorality and going to church. Poor me! Does she know that you havecome here?"
"I have no doubt she does. I did not tell her, nor would I tell herdaughter; but I told Captain Aylmer."
"That was right. That was very right. I'm so glad of that. But whowould doubt that you would show a proper spirit? And what did hesay?"
"Not much, indeed."
"I won't trouble you about him. I don't in the least doubt but allthat will come right. And what sort of man is Sir Anthony?"
"A common-place sort of a man; very gouty, and with none of hiswife's strength. I liked him the best of them all."
"Because you saw the least of him, I suppose."
"He was kind in his manner to me."
"And they were like she-dragons. I understand it all, and can seethem just as though I had been there. I felt that I knew what wouldcome of it when you first told me that you were going to Aylmer Park.I did, indeed. I could have prophesied it all."
"What a pity you did not."
"It would have done no good;--and your going there has done good. Ithas opened your eyes to more than one thing, I don't doubt. But tellme,--have you told them in Norfolk that you were coming here?"
"No;--I have not written to my cousin."
"Don't be angry with me if I tell you something. I have."
"Have what?"
"I have told Mr. Belton that you were coming here. It was in thisway. I had to write to him about our continuing in the cottage.Colonel Askerton always makes me write if it's possible, and ofcourse we were obliged to settle something as to the place."
"I'm sorry you said anything about me."
"How could I help it? What would you have thought of me, or whatwould he have thought, if, when writing to him, I had not mentionedsuch a thing as your visit? Besides, it's much better that he shouldknow."
"I am sorry that you said anything about it."
"You are ashamed that he should know that you are here," said Mrs.Askerton, in a tone of reproach.
"Ashamed! No; I am not ashamed. But I would sooner that he had notbeen told,--as yet. Of course he would have been told before long."
"But you are not angry with me?"
"Angry! How can I be angry with any one who is so kind to me?"
That evening passed by very pleasantly, and when she went again toher own room, Clara was almost surprised to find how completely shewas at home. On the next day she and Mrs. Askerton together went upto the house, and roamed through all the rooms, and Clara seatedherself in all the accustomed chairs. On the sofa, just in the spotto which Belton had thrown it, she found the key of the cellar.She took it up in her hand, thinking that she would give it to theservant; but again she put it back upon the sofa. It was his key, andhe had left it there, and if ever there came an occasion she wouldremind him where he had put it. Then they went out to the cow, whowas at her ease in a little home paddock.
"Dear Bessy," said Clara. "See how well she knows me." But I thinkthe tame little beast would have known any one else as well whohad gone up to her as Clara did, with food in her hand. "She isquite as sacred as any cow that ever was worshipped among thecow-worshippers," said Mrs. Askerton. "I suppose they milk her andsell the butter, but otherwise she is not regarded as an ordinary cowat all." "Poor Bessy," said Clara. "I wish she had never come here.What is to be done with her?" "Done with her! She'll stay here tillshe dies a natural death, and then a romantic pair of mourners willfollow her to her grave, mixing their sympathetic tears comfortablyas they talk of the old days; and in future years, Bessy will grow tobe a divinity of the past, never to be mentioned without tenderestreminiscences. I have not the slightest difficulty in prophesying asto Bessy's future life and posthumous honours." They roamed aboutthe place the whole morning, through the garden and round the farmbuildings, and in and out of the house; and at every turn somethingwas said about Will Belton. But Clara would not go up to the rocks,although Mrs. Askerton more than once attempted to turn in thatdirection. He had said that he never would go there again exceptunder certain circumstances. She knew that those circumstances wouldnever come to pass; but yet neither would she go there. She wouldnever go there till her cousin was married. Then, if in those daysshe should ever be present at Belton Castle, she would creep up tothe spot all alone, and allow herself to think of the old days.
On the following morning there came to her a letter bearing theDownham post-mark,--but at the first glance she knew that it was notfrom her cousin Will. Will wrote with a bold round hand, that wasextremely plain and caligraphic when he allowed himself time for thework in hand, as he did with the commencement of his epistles, butwhich would become confused and altogether anti-caligraphic when hefell into a hurry towards the end of his performance,--as was hiswont. But the address of this letter was written in a pretty, small,female hand,--very careful in the perfection of every letter, andvery neat in every stroke. It was from Mary Belton, between whom andClara there had never hitherto been occasion for correspondence. Theletter was as follows:--
Plaistow Hall, April, 186--.
MY DEAR COUSIN CLARA,
William has heard from your friends at Belton, who are tenants on the estate, and as to whom there seems to be some question whether they are to remain. He has written, saying, I believe, that there need be no difficulty if they wish to stay there. But we learn, also, from Mrs. Askerton's letter, that you are expected at the cottage, and therefore I will address this to Belton, supposing that it may find you there.
You and I have never yet known each other;--which has been a grief to me; but this grief, I hope, may be cured some day before long. I myself, as you know, am such a poor creature that I cannot go about the world to see my friends as other people do;--at least, not very well; and therefore I write to you with the object of asking you to come and see me here. This is an interesting old house in its way; and though I must not conceal from you that life here is very, very quiet, I would do my best to make the days pass pleasantly with you. I had heard that you were gone to Aylmer Park. Indeed, William told me of his taking you up to London. Now it seems you have left Yorkshire, and I suppose you will not return there very soon. If it be so, will it not be well that you should come to me for a short time?
Both William and I feel that just for the present,--for a little time,--you would perhaps prefer to be alone with me. He must go to London for awhile, and then on to Belton, to settle your affairs and his. He intends to be absent for six weeks. If you would not be afraid of the dullness of this house for so long a time, pray come to us. The pleasure to me would be very great, and I hope that you have some of that feeling, which with me is so strong, that we ought not to be any longer personally strangers to each other. You could then make up your mind as to what you would choose to do afterwards. I think that by the end of that time,--that is, when William returns,--my uncle and aunt from Sleaford will be with us. He is a clergyman, you know; and if you then like to remain, they will be delighted to make your acquaintance.
It seems to be a long journey for a young lady to make alone, from Belton t
o Plaistow; but travelling is so easy now-a-days, and young ladies seem to be so independent, that you may be able to manage it. Hoping to see you soon, I remain
Your affectionate Cousin,
MARY BELTON.
This letter she received before breakfast, and was therefore able toread it in solitude, and to keep its receipt from the knowledge ofMrs. Askerton, if she should be so minded. She understood at once allthat it intended to convey,--a hint that Plaistow Hall would be abetter resting place for her than Mrs. Askerton's cottage; and anassurance that if she would go to Plaistow Hall for her convenience,no advantage should be taken of her presence there by the owner ofthe house for his convenience. As she sat thinking of the offer whichhad been made to her she fancied that she could see and hear hercousin Will as he discussed the matter with his sister, and with ahalf assumption of surliness declared his own intention of goingaway. Captain Aylmer after that interview in London had spoken ofBelton's conduct as being unpardonable; but Clara had not onlypardoned him, but had, in her own mind, pronounced his virtues to beso much greater than his vices as to make him almost perfect. "ButI will not drive him out of his own house," she said. "What does itmatter where I go?"
"Colonel Askerton has had a letter from your cousin," said Mrs.Askerton as soon as the two ladies were alone together.
"And what does he say?"
"Not a word about you."
"So much the better. I have given him trouble enough, and am glad tothink that he should be free of me for awhile. Is Colonel Askerton tostay at the cottage?"
"Now, Clara, you are a hypocrite. You know that you are a hypocrite."
"Very likely,--but I don't know why you should accuse me just now."
"Yes, you do. Have not you heard from Norfolk also?"
"Yes;--I have."
"I was sure of it. I knew he would never have written in that way, inanswer to my letter, ignoring your visit here altogether, unless hehad written to you also."
"But he has not written to me. My letter is from his sister. Thereit is." Whereupon she handed the letter to Mrs. Askerton, and waitedpatiently while it was being read. Her friend returned it to herwithout a word, and Clara was the first to speak again. "It is a niceletter, is it not? I never saw her you know."
"So she says."
"But is it not a kind letter?"
"I suppose it is meant for kindness. It is not very complimentaryto me. It presumes that such a one as I may be treated without theslightest consideration. And so I may. It is only fit that I shouldbe so treated. If you ask my advice, I advise you to go at once;--atonce."
"But I have not asked your advice, dear; nor do I intend to ask it."
"You would not have shown it me if you had not intended to go."
"How unreasonable you are! You told me just now that I was ahypocrite for not telling you of my letter, and now you are angrywith me because I have shown it you."
"I am not angry. I think you have been quite right to show it me. Idon't know how else you could have acted upon it."
"But I do not mean to act upon it. I shall not go to Plaistow. Thereare two reasons against it, each sufficient. I shall not leave youjust yet,--unless you send me away; and I shall not cause my cousinto be turned out of his own house."
"Why should he be turned out? Why should you not go to him? You lovehim;--and as for him, he is more in love than any man I ever knew. Goto Plaistow Hall, and everything will run smooth."
"No, dear; I shall not do that."
"Then you are foolish. I am bound to tell you so, as I have inveigledyou here."
"I thought I had invited myself."
"No; I asked you to come, and when I asked you I knew that I waswrong. Though I meant to be kind, I knew that I was unkind. I sawthat my husband disapproved it, though he had not the heart to tellme so. I wish he had. I wish he had."
"Mrs. Askerton, I cannot tell you how much you wrong yourself, andhow you wrong me also. I am more than contented to be here."
"But you should not be contented to be here. It is just that. Inlearning to love me,--or rather, perhaps, to pity me, you loweryourself. Do you think that I do not see it all, and know it all? Ofcourse it is bad to be alone, but I have no right not to be alone."There was nothing for Clara to do but to draw herself once againclose to the poor woman, and to embrace her with protestations offair, honest, equal regard and friendship. "Do you think I do notunderstand that letter?" continued Mrs. Askerton. "If it had comefrom Lady Aylmer I could have laughed at it, because I believe LadyAylmer to be an overbearing virago, whom it is good to put downin every way possible. But this comes from a pure-minded woman,one whom I believe to be little given to harsh judgments on herfellow-sinners; and she tells you, in her calm wise way, that it isbad for you to be here with me."
"She says nothing of the kind."
"But does she not mean it? Tell me honestly;--do you not know thatshe means it?"
"I am not to be guided by what she means."
"But you are to be guided by what her brother means. It is to cometo that, and you may as well bend your neck at once. It is to cometo that, and the sooner the better for you. It is easy to see thatyou are badly off for guidance when you take up me as your friend."When she had so spoken Mrs. Askerton got up and went to the door."No, Clara, do not come with me; not now," she said, turning to hercompanion, who had risen as though to follow her. "I will come to yousoon, but I would rather be alone now. And, look here, dear; you mustanswer your cousin's letter. Do so at once, and say that you will goto Plaistow. In any event it will be better for you."
Clara, when she was alone, did answer her cousin's letter, but shedid not accept the invitation that had been given her. She assuredMiss Belton that she was most anxious to know her, and hoped that shemight do so before long, either at Plaistow or at Belton; but thatat present she was under an engagement to stay with her friend Mrs.Askerton. In an hour or two Mrs. Askerton returned, and Clara handedto her the note to read. "Then all I can say is you are very silly,and don't know on which side your bread is buttered." It was evidentfrom Mrs. Askerton's voice that she had recovered her mood and toneof mind. "I don't suppose it will much signify, as it will all comeright at last," she said afterwards. And then, after luncheon, whenshe had been for a few minutes with her husband in his own room, shetold Clara that the Colonel wanted to speak to her. "You'll findhim as grave as a judge, for he has got something to say to you inearnest. Nobody can be so stern as he is when he chooses to put onhis wig and gown." So Clara went into the Colonel's study, and seatedherself in a chair which he had prepared for her.
She remained there for over an hour, and during the hour theconversation became very animated. Colonel Askerton's assumed gravityhad given way to ordinary eagerness, during which he had walked aboutthe room in the vehemence of his argument; and Clara, in answeringhim, had also put forth all her strength. She had expected that healso was going to speak to her on the propriety of her going toNorfolk; but he made no allusion to that subject, although all thathe did say was founded on Will Belton's letter to himself. Belton, inspeaking of the cottage, had told Colonel Askerton that Miss Amedrozwould be his future landlord, and had then gone on to explain thatit was his, Belton's, intention to destroy the entail, and allow theproperty to descend from the father to the daughter. "As Miss Amedrozis with you now," he said, "may I beg you to take the trouble toexplain the matter to her at length, and to make her understand thatthe estate is now, at this moment, in fact her own. Her possession ofit does not depend on any act of hers,--or, indeed, upon her own willor wish in the matter." On this subject Colonel Askerton had argued,using all his skill to make Clara in truth perceive that she washer father's heiress,--through the generosity undoubtedly of hercousin,--and that she had no alternative but to assume the possessionwhich was thus thrust upon her.
And so eloquent was the Colonel that Clara was staggered, though shewas not convinced. "It is quite impossible," she said. "Though he maybe able to make it over to me, I can give it back again
."
"I think not. In such a matter as this a lady in your position canonly be guided by her natural advisers,--her father's lawyer andother family friends."
"I don't know why a young lady should be in any way different from anold gentleman."
"But an old gentleman would not hesitate under such circumstances.The entail in itself was a cruelty, and the operation of it on yourpoor brother's death was additionally cruel."
"It is cruel that any one should be poor," argued Clara; "but thatdoes not take away the right of a rich man to his property."
There was much more of this sort said between them, till Clara wasat any rate convinced that Colonel Askerton believed that she oughtto be the owner of the property. And then at last he ventured uponanother argument which soon drove Clara out of the room. "There is,I believe, one way in which it can all be made right," said he.
"What way?" said Clara, forgetting in her eagerness the obviousnessof the mode which her companion was about to point out.
"Of course, I know nothing of this myself," he said smiling; "butMary thinks that you and your cousin might arrange it between you ifyou were together."
"You must not listen to what she says about that, Colonel Askerton."
"Must I not? Well; I will not listen to more than I can help; butMary, as you know, is a persistent talker. I, at any rate, have donemy commission." Then Clara left him and was alone for what remainedof the afternoon.
It could not be, she said to herself, that the property ought to behers. It would make her miserable, were she once to feel that she hadaccepted it. Some small allowance out of it, coming to her from thebrotherly love of her cousin,--some moderate stipend sufficient forher livelihood, she thought she could accept from him. It seemedto her that it was her destiny to be dependent on charity,--to eatbread given to her from the benevolence of a friend; and she thoughtthat she could endure his benevolence better than that of any other.Benevolence from Aylmer Park or from Perivale would be altogetherunendurable.
But why should it not be as Colonel Askerton had proposed? That thiscousin of hers loved her with all his heart,--with a constancy forwhich she had at first given him no credit, she was well aware. And,as regarded herself, she loved him better than all the world beside.She had at last become conscious that she could not now marry CaptainAylmer without sin,--without false vows, and fatal injury to herselfand him. To the prospect of that marriage, as her future fate, anend must be put at any rate,--an end, if that which had alreadytaken place was not to be regarded as end enough. But yet she hadbeen engaged to Captain Aylmer,--was engaged to him even now. Whenlast her cousin had mentioned to her Captain Aylmer's name she haddeclared that she loved him still. How then could she turn roundnow, and so soon accept the love of another man? How could she bringherself to let her cousin assume to himself the place of a lover,when it was but the other day that she had rebuked him for expressingthe faintest hope in that direction?
But yet,--yet--! As for going to Plaistow, that was quite out of thequestion.
"So you are to be the heiress after all," said Mrs. Askerton to herthat night in her bedroom.
"No; I am not to be the heiress after all," said Clara, risingagainst her friend impetuously.
"You'll have to be lady of Belton in one way or the other at anyrate," said Mrs. Askerton.