Lady Susan

MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY

Churchhill

We have a very unexpected guest with us at present, my dear Mother:  he arrived yesterday.  I heard a carriage at the door, as I was sitting with my children while they dined; and supposing I should be wanted, left the nursery soon afterwards, and was half-way downstairs, when Frederica, as pale as ashes, came running up, and rushed by me into her own room.  I instantly followed, and asked her what was the matter.  “Oh!” said she, “he is come—­Sir James is come, and what shall I do?” This was no explanation; I begged her to tell me what she meant.  At that moment we were interrupted by a knock at the door:  it was Reginald, who came, by Lady Susan’s direction, to call Frederica down.  “It is Mr. De Courcy!” said she, colouring violently.  “Mamma has sent for me; I must go.”  We all three went down together; and I saw my brother examining the terrified face of Frederica with surprize.  In the breakfast-room we found Lady Susan, and a young man of gentlemanlike appearance, whom she introduced by the name of Sir James Martin—­the very person, as you may remember, whom it was said she had been at pains to detach from Miss Mainwaring; but the conquest, it seems, was not designed for herself, or she has since transferred it to her daughter; for Sir James is now desperately in love with Frederica, and with full encouragement from mamma.  The poor girl, however, I am sure, dislikes him; and though his person and address are very well, he appears, both to Mr. Vernon and me, a very weak young man.  Frederica looked so shy, so confused, when we entered the room, that I felt for her exceedingly.  Lady Susan behaved with great attention to her visitor; and yet I thought I could perceive that she had no particular pleasure in seeing him.  Sir James talked a great deal, and made many civil excuses to me for the liberty he had taken in coming to Churchhill—­mixing more frequent laughter with his discourse than the subject required—­said many things over and over again, and told Lady Susan three times that he had seen Mrs. Johnson a few evenings before.  He now and then addressed Frederica, but more frequently her mother.  The poor girl sat all this time without opening her lips—­her eyes cast down, and her colour varying every instant; while Reginald observed all that passed in perfect silence.  At length Lady Susan, weary, I believe, of her situation, proposed walking; and we left the two gentlemen together, to put on our pelisses.  As we went upstairs Lady Susan begged permission to attend me for a few moments in my dressing-room, as she was anxious to speak with me in private.  I led her thither accordingly, and as soon as the door was closed, she said:  “I was never more surprized in my life than by Sir James’s arrival, and the suddenness of it requires some apology to you, my dear sister; though to me, as a mother, it is highly flattering.  He is so extremely attached to my daughter that he could not exist longer without seeing her.  Sir James is a young man of an amiable disposition and excellent character; a little too much of the rattle, perhaps, but a year or two will rectify that:  and he is in other respects so very eligible a match for Frederica, that I have always observed his attachment with the greatest pleasure; and am persuaded that you and my brother will give the alliance your hearty approbation.  I have never before mentioned the likelihood of its taking place to anyone, because I thought that whilst Frederica continued at school it had better not be known to exist; but now, as I am convinced that Frederica is too old ever to submit to school confinement, and have, therefore, begun to consider her union with Sir James as not very distant, I had intended within a few days to acquaint yourself and Mr. Vernon with the whole business.  I am sure, my dear sister, you will excuse my remaining silent so long, and agree with me that such circumstances, while they continue from any cause in suspense, cannot be too cautiously concealed.  When you have the happiness of bestowing your sweet little Catherine, some years hence, on a man who in connection and character is alike unexceptionable, you will know what I feel now; though, thank Heaven, you cannot have all my reasons for rejoicing in such an event.  Catherine will be amply provided for, and not, like my Frederica, indebted to a fortunate establishment for the comforts of life.”  She concluded by demanding my congratulations.  I gave them somewhat awkwardly, I believe; for, in fact, the sudden disclosure of so important a matter took from me the power of speaking with any clearness, She thanked me, however, most affectionately, for my kind concern in the welfare of herself and daughter; and then said:  “I am not apt to deal in professions, my dear Mrs. Vernon, and I never had the convenient talent of affecting sensations foreign to my heart; and therefore I trust you will believe me when I declare, that much as I had heard in your praise before I knew you, I had no idea that I should ever love you as I now do; and I must further say that your friendship towards me is more particularly gratifying because I have reason to believe that some attempts were made to prejudice you against me.  I only wish that they, whoever they are, to whom I am indebted for such kind intentions, could see the terms on which we now are together, and understand the real affection we feel for each other; but I will not detain you any longer.  God bless you, for your goodness to me and my girl, and continue to you all your present happiness.”  What can one say of such a woman, my dear mother?  Such earnestness such solemnity of expression! and yet I cannot help suspecting the truth of everything she says.  As for Reginald, I believe he does not know what to make of the matter.  When Sir James came, he appeared all astonishment and perplexity; the folly of the young man and the confusion of Frederica entirely engrossed him; and though a little private discourse with Lady Susan has since had its effect, he is still hurt, I am sure, at her allowing of such a man’s attentions to her daughter.  Sir James invited himself with great composure to remain here a few days—­hoped we would not think it odd, was aware of its being very impertinent, but he took the liberty of a relation; and concluded by wishing, with a laugh, that he might be really one very soon.  Even Lady Susan seemed a little disconcerted by this forwardness; in her heart I am persuaded she sincerely wished him gone.  But something must be done for this poor girl, if her feelings are such as both I and her uncle believe them to be.  She must not be sacrificed to policy or ambition, and she must not be left to suffer from the dread of it.  The girl whose heart can distinguish Reginald De Courcy, deserves, however he may slight her, a better fate than to be Sir James Martin’s wife.  As soon as I can get her alone, I will discover the real truth; but she seems to wish to avoid me.  I hope this does not proceed from anything wrong, and that I shall not find out I have thought too well of her.  Her behaviour to Sir James certainly speaks the greatest consciousness and embarrassment, but I see nothing in it more like encouragement.  Adieu, my dear mother.

Yours, &c.,

C. Vernon.