Heartsease; Or, The Brother's Wife

Warm as it was, the windows were shut, and a shawl was round Mrs. Nesbit’s tall, bending, infirm figure. Violet dared not look up at her, and thought, with mysterious awe, of the caution not to shrink if she were kissed, but it was not needed, Lady Martindale only said, ‘My aunt, Mrs. Arthur Martindale,’ and Mrs. Nesbit, half rising, just took her hand into her long skinny fingers, which felt cold, damp, and uncertain, like the touch of a lizard.

Violet was conscious of being scanned from head to foot—nay, looked through and through by black eyes that seemed to pierce like a dart from beneath their shaggy brows, and discover all her ignorance, folly, and unfitness for her position. Colouring and trembling, she was relieved that there was another guest to call off Mrs. Nesbit’s attention, and watched the readiness and deference with which Miss Gardner replied to compliments on her sister’s marriage; and yet they were not comfortable congratulations, thought Violet; at least they made her cheeks burn, and Theodora stood by looking severe and melancholy; but Miss Gardner seemed quite to enter into the sarcastic tone, and almost to echo it, as if to humour the old lady.

‘Your sister acted very sensibly,’ said Mrs. Nesbit, with emphasis. ‘Very good management; though Theodora was somewhat taken by surprise.’

‘Yes, I know we used her very ill,’ said Miss Gardner; ‘but people have unaccountable fancies about publishing those matters. Mr. Finch was in haste, and we all felt that it was best to have it over, so it was talked of a very short time previously.’

‘Speed is the best policy, as we all know,’ said Mrs. Nesbit; and Violet felt as if there was a flash of those eyes upon her, and was vexed with herself for blushing. She thought Miss Gardner’s answer good-naturedly unconscious:

‘Oh, people always shake together best afterwards. There is not the least use in a prolonged courtship acquaintance. It is only a field for lovers’ quarrels, and pastime for the spectators.’

‘By the bye,’ said Mrs. Nesbit, ‘what is become of your cousin, Mrs. George Gardner’s son?’

‘Mark! Oh, he is abroad. Poor fellow, I wish we could find something for him to do. Lady Fotheringham asked her nephew, Percival, if he could not put him in the way of getting some appointment.’

‘Failed, of course,’ said Mrs. Nesbit.

‘Yes; I never expected much. Those diplomats are apt to be afraid of having their heels trodden upon; but it is a great pity. He is so clever, and speaks so many languages. We hope now that Mr. Finch may suggest some employment in America.’

‘Highly advisable.’

‘I assure you poor Mark would be glad of anything. He is entirely steadied now; but there are so few openings for men of his age.’

An interruption here occurring, Miss Gardner drew off to the window. Theodora sat still, until her friend said, ‘How lovely it is! Do you ever take a turn on the terrace after dinner?’

Theodora could not refuse. Violet wished they had asked her to join them; but they went out alone, and for some moments both were silent. Miss Gardner first spoke, remarking, ‘A beautiful complexion.’

There was a cold, absent assent; and she presently tried again, ‘Quite a lady,’ but with the same brief reply. Presently, however, Theodora exclaimed, ‘Jane, you want me to talk to you; I cannot, unless you unsay that about Percy Fotheringham. He is not to be accused of baseness.’

‘I beg your pardon, Theodora, dear; I have no doubt his motives were quite conscientious, but naturally, you know, one takes one’s own cousin’s part, and it was disappointing that he would not help to give poor Mark another chance.’

‘That is no reason he should be accused of petty jealousies.’

‘Come, you must not be so very severe and dignified. Make some allowance for poor things who don’t know how to answer Mrs. Nesbit, and say what first occurs. Indeed, I did not know you were so much interested in him.’

‘I am interested in justice to the innocent.’

‘There! don’t annihilate me. I know he is a very superior person, the pride of Lady Fotheringham’s heart. Of course he would have recommended Mark if he had thought it right; I only hope he will find that he was mistaken.’

‘If he was, he will be the first to own it.’

‘Then I am forgiven, am I? And I may ask after you after this long solitary winter. We thought a great deal of you.’

‘I needed no pity, thank you. I was well off with my chemistry and the parish matters. I liked the quiet time.’

‘I know you do not care for society.’

‘My aunt is a very amusing companion. Her clear, shrewd observation is like a book of French memoirs.’

‘And you are one of the few not afraid of her.’

‘No. We understand each other, and it is better for all parties that she should know I am not to be interfered with. Positively I think she has been fonder of me since we measured our strength.’

‘There is a mutual attachment in determined spirits,’ said Miss Gardner.

‘I think there must be. I fancy it is resolution that enables me to go further with her than any one else can without offending her.’

‘She is so proud of you.’

‘What is strange is, that she is prouder of me than of mamma, who is so much handsomer and more accomplished,—more tractable, too, and making a figure and sensation that I never shall.’

‘Mrs. Nesbit knows better,’ said Miss Gardner, laughing.

‘Don’t say so. If John’s illness had not prevented my coming out last year, I might have gone into the world like other girls. Now I see the worth of a young lady’s triumph—the disgusting speculation! I detest it.’

‘Ah! you have not pardoned poor Georgina.’

‘Do you wish for my real opinion?’

‘Pray let me hear it.’

‘Georgina had a grand course open to her, and she has shrunk from it.’

‘A grand course!’ repeated Jane, bewildered.

‘Yes, honest poverty, and independence. I looked to her to show the true meaning of that word. I call it dependence to be so unable to exist without this world’s trash as to live in bondage for its sake. Independence is trusting for maintenance to our own head and hands.’

‘So you really would have had us—do what? Teach music?—make lace?’

‘If I had been lucky enough to have such a fate, I would have been a village school-mistress.’

‘Not even a governess?’

‘I should like the village children better; but, seriously, I would gladly get my own bread, and I did believe Georgina meant to wait to be of age and do the same.’

‘But, Theodora, seriously! The loss of position.’

‘I would ennoble the office.’

‘With that head that looks as if it was born in the purple, you would ennoble anything, dear Theodora; but for ordinary—’

‘All that is done in earnest towards Heaven and man ennobles and is ennobled.’

‘True; but it needs a great soul and much indifference to creature comforts. Now, think of us, at our age, our relations’ welcome worn out—’

‘I thought you were desired to make Worthbourne your home.’

‘Yes, there was no want of kindness there; but, my dear, if you could only imagine the dulness. It was as if the whole place had been potted and preserved in Sir Roger de Coverley’s time. No neighbours, no club-books, no anything! One managed to vegetate through the morning by the help of being deputy to good Lady Bountiful; but oh! the evenings! Sir Antony always asleep after tea, and no one allowed to speak, lest he should be awakened, and the poor, imbecile son bringing out the draught-board, and playing with us all in turn. Fancy that, by way of enlivenment to poor Georgina after her nervous fever! I was quite alarmed about her,—her spirits seemed depressed for ever into apathy!’