Friendship and Folly: The Merriweather Chronicles Book I (22 page)

I trust that none of my readers will have imagined, that because I have not bothered them with the doings of Lord Meravon, that he displayed the same forbearance to the Parrys; or that his abrupt departure from this narrative in chapter three, had any corresponding reality in the lives of my heroine and her family. I have before spoken, however, of the duties and privileges of authorship, and in electing to stay with his sister and her husband, in preference to Merrion House, the Earl most conveniently removed himself from the range of my concern.

Not that he did so with any distant notion of obliging
me
, or any other chronicler. No, his motivation was the more immediate one, of his own comfort. The Earl suffered from a rather particular digestion, and if he was not allowed to explain to everyone at the table, precisely how the Foxites were Ruining the Country with each remove, and follow it up with at least a minor squabble, he was forced to spend a miserable night repenting of his abstinence; or at least, so Major Merrion had once avowed, after a singularly taxing evening spent in the unalloyed company of his father.

Furthermore, the Parrys only obeyed the unwritten law of society that children should be summoned to the table only after everything but the most unsuitable viands had been removed from it, when the number and identity of their guests rendered it prudent. For the rest of the time, they continued to take their meals as was their custom at Merriweather, as a family complete--and this did not at all suit Lord Meravon, who had rather poetical notions on the subject, and “did not consider that a person should be asked to sit down to dine until he was unable to serve as an illustration for the lines, ‘the feet hung dangling down, Anxious in vain to find the distant floor.’”

As the owner of Merrion House, he could, it is true, have ensconced himself, and arranged everything to suit his own desires; but having succeeded (as he saw it) in getting his granddaughter to London, it cannot be wondered at it that he was reluctant to adopt a course of action that would have seen her whisked back to Warwickshire within days of her arrival.

And so it was, that the privilege of entertaining him for the length of his stay was granted to his brother-in-law, or, more correctly, to Lady Thomasin. This suited that lady excellently well, for she yearned to be a political hostess, as some women long to be mothers, but had been given neither the spouse, nor the disposition, necessary to fulfill her ambition. Even after his frantic abandonment of science, Lady Thomasin had failed to persuade Mr. St. Bees to take any interest in attempting to personally manipulate affairs of state, or even in feeding those who did so. This was hardly surprising, given the fact that nature, habit, or domestic competition had rendered him largely inarticulate--for even when she was not present to explain what he meant by his half-framed mumblings, long years of having his slightest “mmmph” interpreted, had left him disinclined to go to the trouble of completing a sentence for himself. As for the second impediment, Lady Thomasin was not aware of its existence, as she discounted as mere jesting, any suggestion that men engaged in political matters are not the most likely class of men to flock to a place where their own eloquence, like the Egyptian’s Rods, would inevitably be swallowed up by that of their hostess. Thus, she could bemoan the disappointment of her ambition, not only free of the discomfort of feeling herself to be in any way directly responsible, but even able to forgive her husband for it. Living in a state of perpetual magnanimity, and consequently knowing herself to be a pattern-card of a wife, could not but alleviate Lady Thomasin’s chagrin; and as Mr. St. Bees did not seem to mind being regularly forgiven, it was a happy resolution--at least for them. Lady Thomasin’s chosen victims did not, however, come so well out of the matter, for, in light of her failure to lure them to her table, there was not a minister, M.P., general or admiral she did not feel at perfect liberty to buttonhole, and extract what intelligence she could, in the few minutes before he pleaded an old acquaintance or a prior appointment, and made good his escape. Nor did she make any distinction between party: she pursued both Whig and Tory with admirable impartiality,
knowledge
being her only requisite.

But Lady Thomasin was no devotee of the Hunt, and she viewed all this vigorous chasing about as a poor substitute for having a statesmen trapped in a chair by courtesy and five removes; most especially, as her own method was only successful if she was so fortunate as to see her quarry before he saw her, and there did not happen to be a doorway through which he could vanish before she made her determined way through the press of people, across whose heads she had just invoked, in clarion tones, his reluctant attention. She was, therefore, always prompt to invite herself to Merrion House, whenever her brother was in town, so that her presence at Lord Meravon’s table was a risk acknowledged by all who accepted his invitations. Even so, few cared to refuse the Earl’s rather casual offers to dine, from the knowledge that both his cook and his cellar were superior, the liveliness of the company and conversation assured (though not, perhaps, its
agreeableness
), and also, that Lord Meravon never forgot those who declined his hospitality, and if one did not proffer a very good excuse indeed, it was highly unlikely one would ever receive another opportunity to do so. And there was always the possibility that Lady Thomasin would not choose that particular night to grace Merrion House with her person.

But all this is merely to explain the ordinary tenor of Lady Thomasin’s activities during the Season. The year of Julia’s Presentation, was, for her great-aunt, perhaps one of the most satisfactory in her social career. Her brother was, by his own choice, resident at Pettering House, and,
being
himself, felt as free to issue invitations to his brother-in-law’s table, as to his own--and would have taken it just as amiss, if they were refused. Therefore, Great Men blenched, and accepted, and made sure to bring their wives and daughters, if they possessed them, in hopes of deflecting, at least to some degree, the force that was Lady Thomasin. Lady Thomasin, for her part, dusted off her husband, plotted the most magnificent dinners, and gave herself over to the full enjoyment of vying with her brother for the title of
Table Imperator
.

Thus, Lord Meravon, happily employed with arguments in various houses, both Parliamentary and private, had only called on the Parrys occasionally, like a general assuring himself his troops are in order; keeping them abreast of the progress of this or that bill, of this speech or that, and relating various flattering reports of Julia which had come to his ears, always being careful to give them every opportunity to congratulate him on having been the one to bring her forth into such discerning society. Kitty’s adventure he had heard of with passing indignation, and once he had even met Sir Warrington; but it was not a meeting much marked by
rapport
, as its only effect on the baronet, had been to inspire him to dash off to the stronghold of the nursery to play games with Louisa and Idelette, whenever there was the slightest danger of his encountering “th’ ould lard”; and the old lord did not remember having met him at all, when his having done so was mentioned on a consequent visit. His interest in the family was briefly aroused upon the discovery that he must have been at school with Lady Lenox’s father, but further cogitations having called to mind, that he had regarded the baronet’s forebear as “a sad muffin-faced wart,” he had lost all interest in pursuing an acquaintance with his old school-fellow’s descendants.

The coming of both his son and his heir brought a temporary end to this liberal ministry. At first, they were both pressed to come stay with the St. Bees, his lordship urging on them the blessed lack of all “nursery-clap” in that establishment, and the superiority of “intellectual discussions of national importance” over the “milky fireside twaddle” habitually served at the house in Grosvenor. Major Merrion, who professed always to come away from visiting his father with the urge to plunge his head into a bucket of icy water, was adamant, though polite, in his refusal; but Lord Merivale, who appeared to have little preference in the matter, displayed a rope-like willingness to go with whichever side pulled most vigorously, and was therefore directing his baggage to Pettering House soon after their arrival.

The Earl allowed himself to be appeased by this arrangement, though why he should have done, Ann did not know, since Lord Merivale could never be brought to contradict any body about any thing, let alone made to quarrel:

It was discovered that those whom his lordship preferred to his own grandchildren were a Lord N______ and his wife, Mr. J_____ (M.P. for ____shire), his wife and two daughters, and a certain military gentleman, whom I shall call Colonel Nichols. (This was not his name, but a person bearing such an appellation once did me a grave disservice, so I take this opportunity of exacting a harmless and trifling revenge, by attaching it to one who, in this narrative, plays no very amiable role.) The son of one of Lord Meravon’s oldest friends, Colonel Nichols was at that time preparing to exchange his red coat for a political seat, and as it was one of the chief matters of dissension between them, that the Earl could not persuade Major Merrion to do this very thing, the Colonel afforded, by his very existence, a fine beginning for conflict; but Major Merrion had long ago grown wise to the provocations of his parent, and merely smiled at the introduction, and began to speak of the condition of the roads.

Lord Meravon, having no love for the sort of
ton
parties to which he had consigned his granddaughter, had seldom seen her “in society,” and as he observed how charmingly she looked, and how quickly she had even the rather sour-faced Lady N_____ smiling at her, it became clear, at least to Ann, that he regretted not having assembled a larger circle of persons to admire her. Having first drawn his sister’s attention to Julia’s appearance, and received her rather perfunctory assent to his praises, he then moved on to Mr. Lenox, and gloatingly inquired “if he had ever seen a young lady better able to break a man’s heart?” His lordship doubtless did not intend the description literally; probably it was no more than a phrase he had impulsively seized on, in a moment of swelling pride; but he certainly sounded as if the thought of his granddaughter causing some unnamed gentleman’s utter misery was perfectly delightful to him. In any event, it was not the sort of silly remark likely to find favor with Mr. Lenox. He agreed politely enough, but the first expression of his eyes at hearing the pleasantry, though instantly banished, was not lost on his questioner, who glared in surprise, and would perhaps have quarreled with him then and there, had Lord Merivale not come up at that precise moment.

But the Earl had an excellent memory for offenses, implied or inferred, real or imagined, and they were not long at dinner, before it was noticeable, that he was taking rather more interest in Mr. Lenox, than in any other person present. At first it was indirect, as if even he did not dare openly assail a near total stranger before the first remove, and was satisfied if he could but bring a more general conflict close enough to force his adversary into stepping back from it. The Parrys soon perceived what their relative was about, and built a bulwark of inconsequential and diversionary speech around their friend; but once or twice a still-twitching point of contention escaped their vigilance, and venturing too near Mr. Lenox, was knocked efficiently on the head by that young man. Lord Meravon took the interference of his family in good part, it being no more than he expected; but he evidently saw in Mr. Lenox’s disinclination to further their acquaintance by a violent altercation a subtle insult to his hospitality, and abandoning his scruples with the second remove, gleefully set himself to enrage.

But Mr. Lenox, having, one must suppose, developed something of an immunity to thorned words from living in the same house with his mother and his brother, listened to Lord Meravon’s with an indifference, which caused that gentleman to eye him with increasing vexation, and devote the rest of the meal, entirely to the discovery of some topic over which he could be made to lose his temper. It proved to be a thankless business, for he was not interested in Standing Order, No. 30; pleaded ignorance concerning West Indian accounts; and admitted to such correct and moderate opinions on Lord Melville, the Roman Catholic Petition, and Buonaparte, that even his lordship could do nothing with them.

Lady Thomasin alone remained unaware of the contest, being too much involved in her own declamations, to have any attention left over for her brother’s. The rest of the company was either amused or irritated, but all were employed, to a greater or lesser extent, in pretending that the conflict (or pursuit of one) did not exist. When Lady Frances at length succeeded in hinting her aunt into retiring, Julia was the only one who displayed any reluctance to quit the table; and once in the drawing-room, she could not settle to anything, having left her mind in the dining room so entirely, as to be useless in any other. To Ann’s suggestion that they look through the music-books, that they might be ready with some calming piece if asked to play, she only made the agitated reply, “Yes; no; as you please,” and the next instant exclaimed, though only so that Ann could hear, “This is beyond anything! That
he
should be subjected to such abuse! There is no excuse for it! I am sure I hope he
may
lose his temper, and Grandpapa blush for it! That he should treat a guest so! That we should have invited him to this!”

Ann could not help being a little surprised at her vehemence, and hesitated before giving her opinion, “that Mr. Lenox did not appear to her to be paying much heed to Lord Meravon’s impertinences; and if
he
did not find them distressing, there was no reason why Julia should.”

She was happy to see that her words had some effect; Julia bit her lip, and after a little silence, said more calmly, “You are right. Perhaps he may even find amusement in Grandfather’s more outrageous attempts to provoke him. I am sure many of them were absurd enough. But”--with a sigh--“I still think it hard, that with such a home, with so many opportunities already in his life for self-restraint, that he should not even be able to eat his dinner without being given more of them! And there is no saying, you know, that Grandfather will not eventually touch upon a subject, that he can not turn aside, or ignore, or laugh away. There is nothing to be done, I suppose. But I hope they will not linger.”

As often happens with wishes of this sort, her expressing it served only to mark the beginning of its disappointment. They talked in a desultory fashion of everything but that which most possessed their minds, until, despite her encouraging words to Julia, Ann became at length tolerably convinced, of one of the gentlemen having murdered the other, leaving the rest standing around conferring over the best fashion in which to explain the matter to Bow Street, and impart the news to the ladies; the only thing against this conclusion being, that there had been no sound of struggle carried to the drawing-room, and she could not quite bring herself to believe in the Earl’s involvement in any affair, that was not accompanied by a great deal of noise.

When at last the door opened, Ann’s feelings had been so wrought upon, that she more than half expected--really, she did not know what she did expect, but it was not that Lord Merivale should enter, and Lord Merivale alone. Julia stilled beside her, and the other ladies appeared rather disconcerted as well. He could not help being aware of at least some of their feelings on the occasion, and smiled round at them in a self-deprecating fashion, as he approached Lady Frances to explain that he had been sent by Mr. Parry, to ask her to come to him in the blue room, as Sir Warrington had unhappily been taken unwell, and her experience in such matters was greatly desired. She rose and hastened after the servant in a silence which showed the preoccupation of her thoughts, leaving her nephew once more the object of the seven pairs of eyes, that had followed her progress across the room with something very like envy.

Julia half-rose with her mother, but then sank back, as if doubting the compliance of her knees. She had lost the color of her previous indignation, and her natural color as well, and the hand that Ann touched was cold and trembling. Her cousin, having delivered his message, looked, next, to her, and at this she found a low voice in which to ask him what had happened.

His smile, thought Ann, held a hint of rue, but he replied, that it was nothing that would not soon be well. “Sir Warrington had been overtaken by a trifling indisposition, and his brother had judged it best to see him home immediately. Probably there was not the slightest need for his dear aunt to trouble herself, but Mr. Parry, with a pleasing partiality, was absolutely persuaded that no one else was so capable as she, of ascertaining that a man had everything necessary to his comfort on the journey home.”

His manner was unhurried; his air carried conviction. When Lady Thomasin, Lady N______ and the ladies J_____ saw that his account was good for the ear, and that it was pleasant to the feelings, and an account to be desired to make one easy, they all elected to partake of it, and with looks and gestures, invited Lord Merivale to come across and be believed. He accepted their invitation, and seating himself, gave them an audience before whom they could display their compassion, by “poor young manning!” each other, shaking their heads, and offering various suggestions as to the probable cause of the baronet’s sudden indisposition. Lady Thomasin nobly sacrificed the reputation of her table, and her husband’s cellar, blaming first the soup, and then a certain heavy wine which she had strongly advised him against serving. Perhaps three or four minutes were taken up in this fashion, and then, the tenderness of their hearts being satisfied, they were happy to let the matter go, and begin to speak of the Magnificent
Fete
that was to be held at Vauxhall in celebration of the King’s Birthday.

Ann and Julia remained apart, united in their disbelief. Ann could only gaze at the chattering circle of femininity around Lord Merivale with scornful amazement, but Julia’s vision was elsewhere, as she soon demonstrated by rising; and having whispered, “I must go to them, Ann. I
must
,” quitted the room so swiftly and quietly, that no one else seemed to mark her going. Ann hesitated to follow her, despite the preference she must always give, to a room with Parrys, over a room without them; and in that hesitation, Julia had gone, and Ann somehow did not like to draw attention to her having done so, by crossing the room as well. This reluctance was obscurely, but distinctly felt; more rational, was her aversion to going in search of a scene, the players of which all promised to be, if not ill, at least enraged, remorseful, or distressed in some fashion.

**