Lady Susan, Jane Austen [best books to read in life txt] 📗

affection being returned. He thinks very

differently of her from what he used to do; he does her some justice, but

his reconciliation with her mother precludes every dearer hope. Prepare, my

dear mother, for the worst! The probability of their marrying is surely

heightened! He is more securely hers than ever. When that wretched event

takes place, Frederica must belong wholly to us. I am thankful that my last

letter will precede this by so little, as every moment that you can be

saved from feeling a joy which leads only to disappointment is of

consequence.

 

Yours ever, &c.,

 

CATHERINE VERNON.

XXV

LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON

 

Churchhill.

 

I call on you, dear Alicia, for congratulations: I am my own self, gay

and triumphant! When I wrote to you the other day I was, in truth, in high

irritation, and with ample cause. Nay, I know not whether I ought to be

quite tranquil now, for I have had more trouble in restoring peace than I

ever intended to submit to—a spirit, too, resulting from a fancied sense

of superior integrity, which is peculiarly insolent! I shall not easily

forgive him, I assure you. He was actually on the point of leaving

Churchhill! I had scarcely concluded my last, when Wilson brought me word

of it. I found, therefore, that something must be done; for I did not

choose to leave my character at the mercy of a man whose passions are so

violent and so revengeful. It would have been trifling with my reputation

to allow of his departing with such an impression in my disfavour; in this

light, condescension was necessary. I sent Wilson to say that I desired to

speak with him before he went; he came immediately. The angry emotions

which had marked every feature when we last parted were partially subdued.

He seemed astonished at the summons, and looked as if half wishing and half

fearing to be softened by what I might say. If my countenance expressed

what I aimed at, it was composed and dignified; and yet, with a degree of

pensiveness which might convince him that I was not quite happy. “I beg

your pardon, sir, for the liberty I have taken in sending for you,” said I;

“but as I have just learnt your intention of leaving this place to-day, I

feel it my duty to entreat that you will not on my account shorten your

visit here even an hour. I am perfectly aware that after what has passed

between us it would ill suit the feelings of either to remain longer in the

same house: so very great, so total a change from the intimacy of

friendship must render any future intercourse the severest punishment; and

your resolution of quitting Churchhill is undoubtedly in unison with our

situation, and with those lively feelings which I know you to possess. But,

at the same time, it is not for me to suffer such a sacrifice as it must be

to leave relations to whom you are so much attached, and are so dear. My

remaining here cannot give that pleasure to Mr. and Mrs. Vernon which your

society must; and my visit has already perhaps been too long. My removal,

therefore, which must, at any rate, take place soon, may, with perfect

convenience, be hastened; and I make it my particular request that I may

not in any way be instrumental in separating a family so affectionately

attached to each other. Where I go is of no consequence to anyone; of very

little to myself; but you are of importance to all your connections.” Here

I concluded, and I hope you will be satisfied with my speech. Its effect on

Reginald justifies some portion of vanity, for it was no less favourable

than instantaneous. Oh, how delightful it was to watch the variations of

his countenance while I spoke! to see the struggle between returning

tenderness and the remains of displeasure. There is something agreeable in

feelings so easily worked on; not that I envy him their possession, nor

would, for the world, have such myself; but they are very convenient when

one wishes to influence the passions of another. And yet this Reginald,

whom a very few words from me softened at once into the utmost submission,

and rendered more tractable, more attached, more devoted than ever, would

have left me in the first angry swelling of his proud heart without

deigning to seek an explanation. Humbled as he now is, I cannot forgive him

such an instance of pride, and am doubtful whether I ought not to punish

him by dismissing him at once after this reconciliation, or by marrying and

teazing him for ever. But these measures are each too violent to be adopted

without some deliberation; at present my thoughts are fluctuating between

various schemes. I have many things to compass: I must punish Frederica,

and pretty severely too, for her application to Reginald; I must punish

him for receiving it so favourably, and for the rest of his conduct. I must

torment my sister-in-law for the insolent triumph of her look and manner

since Sir James has been dismissed; for, in reconciling Reginald to me, I

was not able to save that ill-fated young man; and I must make myself

amends for the humiliation to which I have stooped within these few days.

To effect all this I have various plans. I have also an idea of being soon

in town; and whatever may be my determination as to the rest, I shall

probably put THAT project in execution; for London will be always the

fairest field of action, however my views may be directed; and at any rate

I shall there be rewarded by your society, and a little dissipation, for a

ten weeks’ penance at Churchhill. I believe I owe it to my character to

complete the match between my daughter and Sir James after having so long

intended it. Let me know your opinion on this point. Flexibility of mind, a

disposition easily biassed by others, is an attribute which you know I am

not very desirous of obtaining; nor has Frederica any claim to the

indulgence of her notions at the expense of her mother’s inclinations. Her

idle love for Reginald, too! It is surely my duty to discourage such

romantic nonsense. All things considered, therefore, it seems incumbent on

me to take her to town and marry her immediately to Sir James. When my own

will is effected contrary to his, I shall have some credit in being on good

terms with Reginald, which at present, in fact, I have not; for though he

is still in my power, I have given up the very article by which our quarrel

was produced, and at best the honour of victory is doubtful. Send me your

opinion on all these matters, my dear Alicia, and let me know whether you

can get lodgings to suit me within a short distance of you.

 

Your most attached

 

S. VERNON.

XXVI

MRS. JOHNSON TO LADY SUSAN

 

Edward Street.

 

I am gratified by your reference, and this is my advice: that you come

to town yourself, without loss of time, but that you leave Frederica

behind. It would surely be much more to the purpose to get yourself well

established by marrying Mr. De Courcy, than to irritate him and the rest of

his family by making her marry Sir James. You should think more of yourself

and less of your daughter. She is not of a disposition to do you credit in

the world, and seems precisely in her proper place at Churchhill, with the

Vernons. But you are fitted for society, and it is shameful to have you

exiled from it. Leave Frederica, therefore, to punish herself for the

plague she has given you, by indulging that romantic tender-heartedness

which will always ensure her misery enough, and come to London as soon as

you can. I have another reason for urging this: Mainwaring came to town

last week, and has contrived, in spite of Mr. Johnson, to make

opportunities of seeing me. He is absolutely miserable about you, and

jealous to such a degree of De Courcy that it would be highly unadvisable

for them to meet at present. And yet, if you do not allow him to see you

here, I cannot answer for his not committing some great imprudence—such as

going to Churchhill, for instance, which would be dreadful! Besides, if you

take my advice, and resolve to marry De Courcy, it will be indispensably

necessary to you to get Mainwaring out of the way; and you only can have

influence enough to send him back to his wife. I have still another motive

for your coming: Mr. Johnson leaves London next Tuesday; he is going for

his health to Bath, where, if the waters are favourable to his constitution

and my wishes, he will be laid up with the gout many weeks. During his

absence we shall be able to chuse our own society, and to have true

enjoyment. I would ask you to Edward Street, but that once he forced from

me a kind of promise never to invite you to my house; nothing but my being

in the utmost distress for money should have extorted it from me. I can get

you, however, a nice drawing-room apartment in Upper Seymour Street, and we

may be always together there or here; for I consider my promise to Mr.

Johnson as comprehending only (at least in his absence) your not sleeping

in the house. Poor Mainwaring gives me such histories of his wife’s

jealousy. Silly woman to expect constancy from so charming a man! but she

always was silly—intolerably so in marrying him at all, she the heiress of

a large fortune and he without a shilling: one title, I know, she might

have had, besides baronets. Her folly in forming the connection was so

great that, though Mr. Johnson was her guardian, and I do not in general

share HIS feelings, I never can forgive her.

 

Adieu. Yours ever,

 

ALICIA.

XXVII

MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY

 

Churchhill.

 

This letter, my dear Mother, will be brought you by Reginald. His long

visit is about to be concluded at last, but I fear the separation takes

place too late to do us any good. She is going to London to see her

particular friend, Mrs. Johnson. It was at first her intention that

Frederica should accompany her, for the benefit of masters, but we

overruled her there. Frederica was wretched in the idea of going, and I

could not bear to have her at the mercy of her mother; not all the masters

in London could compensate for the ruin of her comfort. I should have

feared, too, for her health, and for everything but her principles—there

I believe she is not to be injured by her mother, or her mother’s friends;

but with those friends she must have mixed (a very bad set, I doubt not),

or have been left in total solitude, and I can hardly tell which would have

been worse for her. If she is with her mother, moreover, she must, alas! in

all probability be with Reginald, and that would be the greatest evil of

all. Here we shall in time be in peace, and our regular employments, our

books and conversations, with exercise, the children, and every domestic

pleasure in my power to procure her, will, I trust, gradually overcome this

youthful attachment. I should not have a doubt of it were she slighted for

any other woman in the world than her own mother. How long Lady Susan will

be in town, or whether she returns here again, I know not. I could not be

cordial in my invitation, but if she chuses to come no want of