Cecilia; Or, Memoirs of an Heiress. Volume 2

“I’ll tell Mortimer, however,” returned her ladyship, “to look up at your window before he goes off; for if he will play Romeo, you, I dare say, will play Juliet, and this old castle is quite the thing for the musty family of the Capulets; I dare say Shakespeare thought of it when he wrote of them.”

“Say to him what you please for yourself,” cried Cecilia, “but let me entreat you to say nothing for me.”

“And my Lord Derford,” continued she, “will make an excessive pretty Paris, for he is vastly in love, though he has got nothing to say; but what shall we do for a Mercutio? we may find five hundred whining Romeos to one gay and charming Mercutio. Besides, Mrs Delvile, to do her justice, is really too good for the old Nurse, though Mr Delvile himself may serve for all the Capulets and all the Montagues at once, for he has pride enough for both their houses, and twenty more besides. By the way, if I don’t take care, I shall have this Romeo run away before I have made my little dainty country Paris pick a quarrel with him.”

She then walked up to one of the windows, and motioning Lord Derford to follow her, Cecilia heard her say to him, “Well, my lord, have you writ your letter? and have you sent it? Miss Beverley, I assure you, will be charmed beyond measure by such a piece of gallantry.”

“No, ma’am,” answered the simple young lord, “I have not sent it yet, for I have only writ a foul copy.”

“O my lord,” cried she, “that is the very thing you ought to send! a foul copy of a challenge is always better than a fair one, for it looks written with more agitation. I am vastly glad you mentioned that.”

Cecilia then, rising and joining them, said, “What mischief is Lady Honoria about now? we must all be upon our guards, my lord, for she has a spirit of diversion that will not spare us.”

“Pray why do you interfere?” cried Lady Honoria, and then, in a lower voice, she added, “what do you apprehend? do you suppose Mortimer cannot manage such a poor little ideot as this?”

“I don’t suppose any thing about the matter!”

“Well, then, don’t interrupt my operations. Lord Derford, Miss Beverley has been whispering me, that if you put this scheme in execution, she shall find you, ever after, irresistible.”

“Lord Derford, I hope,” said Cecilia, laughing, “is too well acquainted with your ladyship to be in any danger of credulity.”

“Vastly well!” cried she, “I see you are determined to provoke me, so if you spoil my schemes, I will spoil yours, and tell a certain gentleman your tender terrors for his safety.”

Cecilia now, extremely alarmed, most earnestly entreated her to be quiet; but the discovery of her fright only excited her ladyship’s laughter, and, with a look the most mischievously wicked, she called out “Pray Mr Mortimer, come hither!”

Mortimer instantly obeyed; and Cecilia at the same moment would with pleasure have endured almost any punishment to have been twenty miles off.

“I have something,” continued her ladyship, “of the utmost consequence to communicate to you. We have been settling an admirable plan for you; will you promise to be guided by us if I tell it you?”

“O certainly!” cried he; “to doubt that would disgrace us all round.”

“Well, then,—Miss Beverley, have you any objection to my proceeding?” “None at all!” answered Cecilia, who had the understanding to know that the greatest excitement to ridicule is opposition.

“Well, then, I must tell you,” she continued, “it is the advice of us all, that as soon as you come to the possession of your estate, you make some capital alterations in this antient castle.”

Cecilia, greatly relieved, could with gratitude have embraced her; and Mortimer, very certain that such rattle was all her own, promised the utmost submission to her orders, and begged her further directions, declaring that he could not, at least, desire a fairer architect.

“What we mean,” said she, “may be effected with the utmost ease; it is only to take out these old windows, and fix some thick iron grates in their place, and so turn the castle into a gaol for the county.”

Mortimer laughed heartily at this proposition; but his father, unfortunately hearing it, sternly advanced, and with great austerity said, “If I thought my son capable of putting such an insult upon his ancestors, whatever may be the value I feel for him, I would banish him my presence for ever.”

“Dear Sir,” cried Lady Honoria, “how would his ancestors ever know it?”

“How?—why—that is a very extraordinary question, Lady Honoria!”

“Besides, Sir, I dare say the sheriff, or the mayor and corporation, or some of those sort of people, would give him money enough, for the use of it, to run him up a mighty pretty neat little box somewhere near Richmond.”

“A box!” exclaimed he indignantly; “a neat little box for the heir of an estate such as this!”

“I only mean,” cried she, giddily, “that he might have some place a little more pleasant to live in, for really that old moat and draw-bridge are enough to vapour him to death; I cannot for my life imagine any use they are of; unless, indeed, to frighten away the deer, for nothing else offer to come over. But, if you were to turn the house into a gaol—”

“A gaol?” cried Mr Delvile, still more angrily, “your ladyship must pardon me if I entreat you not to mention that word again when you are pleased to speak of Delvile Castle.”

“Dear Sir, why not?”

“Because it is a term that, in itself, from a young lady, has a sound peculiarly improper; and which, applied to any gentleman’s antient family seat,—a thing, Lady Honoria, always respectable, however lightly spoken of!—has an effect the least agreeable that can be devised; for it implies an idea either that the family, or the mansion, is going into decay.”

“Well, Sir, you know, with regard to the mansion, it is certainly very true, for all that other side, by the old tower, looks as if it would fall upon one’s head every time one is forced to pass it.”

“I protest, Lady Honoria,” said Mr Delvile, “that old tower, of which you are pleased to speak so slightingly, is the most honourable testimony to the antiquity of the castle of any now remaining, and I would not part with it for all the new boxes, as you style them, in the kingdom.”

“I am sure I am very glad of it, Sir, for I dare say nobody would give even one of them for it.”

“Pardon me, Lady Honoria, you are greatly mistaken; they would give a thousand; such a thing, belonging to a man from his own ancestors, is invaluable.”

“Why, dear Sir, what in the world could they do with it? unless, indeed, they were to let some man paint it for an opera scene.”

“A worthy use indeed!” cried Mr Delvile, more and more affronted; “and pray does your ladyship talk thus to my Lord Duke?”

“O yes; and he never minds it at all.”

“It were strange if he did!” cried Mrs Delvile; “my only astonishment is that anybody can be found who does mind it.”

“Why now, Mrs Delvile,” she answered, “pray be sincere; can you possibly think this Gothic ugly old place at all comparable to any of the new villas about town?”

“Gothic ugly old place!” repeated Mr Delvile, in utter amazement at her dauntless flightiness; “your ladyship really does my humble dwelling too much honour!”

“Lord, I beg a thousand pardons!” cried she, “I really did not think of what I was saying. Come, dear Miss Beverley, and walk out with me, for I am too much shocked to stay a moment longer.”

And then, taking Cecilia by the arm, she hurried her into the park, through a door which led thither from the parlour.

“For heaven’s sake, Lady Honoria,” said Cecilia, “could you find no better entertainment for Mr Delvile than ridiculing his own house?”

“O,” cried she, laughing, “did you never hear us quarrel before? why when I was here last summer, I used to affront him ten times a day.”

“And was that a regular ceremony?”

“No, really, I did not do it purposely; but it so happened; either by talking of the castle, or the tower, or the draw-bridge, or the fortifications; or wishing they were all employed to fill up that odious moat; or something of that sort; for you know a small matter will put him out of humour.”

“And do you call it so small a matter to wish a man’s whole habitation annihilated?”

“Lord, I don’t wish anything about it! I only say so to provoke him.”

“And what strange pleasure can that give you?”

“O the greatest in the world! I take much delight in seeing anybody in a passion. It makes them look so excessively ugly!”

“And is that the way you like every body should look, Lady Honoria?”