The morning on which Denbigh-left B---- was a melancholy one to all the
members of the little circle, in which he had been so distinguished for
his modesty, his intelligence, and his disinterested intrepidity. Sir
Edward took an opportunity solemnly to express his gratitude for the
services he had rendered him, and having retired to his library,
delicately and earnestly pressed his availing himself of the liberal offer
of Mr. Benfield to advance his interest in the army.
"Look upon me, my dear Mr. Denbigh," said the good baronet, pressing him
by the hand, while the tears stood in his eyes, "as a father, to supply
the place of the one you have so recently lost. You _are_ my child; I feel
as a parent to you, and must be suffered to act as one."
To this affectionate offer of Sir Edward, Denbigh replied with an emotion
equal to that of the baronet, though he declined, with respectful
language, his offered assistance as unnecessary. He had friends powerful
enough to advance his interests, without resorting to the use of money;
and on taking Sir Edward's hand, as he left the apartment, he added with
great warmth, "yet, my dear Sir, the day will come, I hope, when I shall
ask a boon from your hands, that no act of mine or a life of service could
entitle me to receive."
The baronet smiled his assent to a request he already understood, and
Denbigh withdrew.
John Moseley insisted on putting the bays in requisition to carry Denbigh
for the first stage, and they now stood caparisoned for the jaunt, with
their master in a less joyous mood than common, waiting the appearance of
his companion.
Emily delighted in their annual excursion to Benfield Lodge. She was
beloved so warmly, and returned the affection of its owner so sincerely,
that the arrival of the day never failed to excite that flow of spirits
which generally accompanies anticipated pleasures, ere experience has
proved how trifling are the greatest enjoyments the scenes of this life
bestow. Yet as the day of their departure drew near, her spirits sunk in
proportion; and on the morning of Denbigh's leave-taking, Emily seemed
anything but excessively happy. There was a tremor in her voice and a
redness about her eyes that alarmed Lady Moseley; but as the paleness of
her cheeks was immediately succeeded by as fine a color as the heart could
wish, the anxious mother allowed herself to be persuaded by Mrs. Wilson
there was no danger, and she accompanied her sister to her own room for
some purpose of domestic economy. It was at this moment Denbigh entered:
he had paid his adieus to the matrons at the door, and been directed by
them to the little parlor in quest of Emily.
"I have come to make my parting compliments, Miss Moseley," he said, in a
tremulous voice, as he ventured to hold forth his hand. "May heaven
preserve you," he continued, holding it in fervor to his bosom: then
dropping it, he hastily retired, as if unwilling to trust himself any
longer to utter all he felt. Emily stood a few moments, pale and almost
inanimate, as the tears flowed rapidly from her eyes; and then she sought
a shelter in a seat of the window. Lady Moseley, on returning, was alarmed
lest the draught would increase her indisposition; but her sister,
observing that the window commanded a view of the road, thought the air
too mild to do her injury.
The personages who composed the society at B---- had now, in a great
measure, separated, in pursuit of their duties or their pleasures. The
merchant and his family left the deanery for a watering-place. Francis and
Clara had gone on a little tour of pleasure in the northern counties, to
take L---- in their return homeward; and the morning arrived for the
commencement of the baronet's journey to the same place. The carriages had
been ordered, and servants were running in various ways, busily employed
in their several occupations, when Mrs. Wilson, accompanied by John and
his sisters, returned from a walk they had taken to avoid the bustle of
the house. A short distance from the park gates, an equipage was observed
approaching, creating by its numerous horses and attendants a dust which
drove the pedestrians to one side of the road. An uncommonly elegant and
admirably fitted travelling barouche and six rolled by, with the graceful
steadiness of an English equipage: several servants on horseback were in
attendance; and our little party were struck with the beauty of the whole
_establishment_.
"Can it be possible Lord Bolton drives such elegant horses?" cried John,
with the ardor of a connoisseur in that noble animal. "They are the finest
set in the kingdom."
Jane's eye had seen, through the clouds of dust, the armorial bearings,
which seemed to float in the dark glossy panels of the carriage, and she
observed, "It is an earl's coronet, but they are not the Bolton arms."
Mrs. Wilson and Emily had noticed a gentleman reclining at his ease, as
the owner of the gallant show; but its passage was too rapid to enable
them to distinguish the features of the courteous old earl; indeed, Mrs.
Wilson remarked, she thought him a younger man than her friend.
"Pray, sir," said John to a tardy groom, as he civilly walked his horse
by the ladies, "who has passed in the barouche?"
"My Lord Pendennyss, sir."
"Pendennyss!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, with a tone of regret, "how
unfortunate!"
She had seen the day named for his visit pass without his arrival, and
now, as it was too late to profit by the opportunity, he had come for the
second time into her neighborhood Emily had learnt, by the solicitude of
her aunt, to take an interest in the young peer's movements, and desired
John to ask a question or two of the groom.
"Where does your lord stop to-night?"
"At Bolton Castle, sir; and I heard my lord tell his valet that he
intended staying one day hereabouts, and the day after to-morrow he goes
to Wales, your honor."
"I thank you, friend," said John; when the man spurred his horse after the
cavalcade. The carriages were at the door, and Sir Edward had been
hurrying Jane to enter, as a servant, in a rich livery and well mounted,
galloped up and delivered a letter for Mrs. Wilson, who, on opening it,
read the following:
"The Earl of Pendennyss begs leave to present his most respectful
compliments to Mrs. Wilson and the family of Sir Edward Moseley. Lord
Pendennyss will have the honor of paying his respects in person at any
moment that the widow of his late invaluable friend, Lieutenant-General
Wilson, will please to appoint.
"Bolton Castle, Friday evening."
To this note Mrs. Wilson, bitterly regretting the necessity which
compelled her to forego the pleasure of meeting her paragon, wrote in
reply a short letter, disliking the formality of a note.
"My LORD,
"I sincerely regret that an engagement which cannot be postponed compels
us to leave Moseley Hall within the hour, and must, in consequence,
deprive us of the pleasure of your intended visit. But as circumstances
have connected your Lordship with some of the dearest, although the most
melancholy events of my life, I earnestly beg you will no longer consider
us as strangers to your person, as we have long ceased to be to your
character. It will afford me the greatest pleasure to hear that there will
be a prospect of our meeting in town next winter, where I may find a more
fitting opportunity of expressing those grateful feelings so long due to
your lordship from your sincere friend,
"CHARLOTTE WILSON.
"Moseley Hall, Friday morning."
With this answer the servant was despatched, and the carriages moved on.
John had induced Emily to trust herself once more to the bays and his
skill; but on perceiving the melancholy of her aunt, she insisted on
exchanging seats with Jane, who had accepted a place in the carriage of
Mrs. Wilson. No objection being made, Mrs. Wilson and her niece rode the
first afternoon together in her travelling chaise. The road run within a
quarter of a mile of Bolton Castle, and the ladies endeavored in vain to
get a glimpse of the person of the young nobleman. Emily was willing to
gratify her aunt's propensity to dwell on the character and history of her
favorite; and hoping to withdraw her attention gradually from more
unpleasant recollections, asked several trifling questions relating to
those points.
"The earl must be very rich, aunt, from the style he maintains."
"Very, my dear; his family I am unacquainted with, but I understand his
title is an extremely ancient one; and some one, I believe Lord Bolton,
mentioned that his estates in Wales alone, exceeded fifty thousand a
year."
"Much good might be done," said Emily, thoughtfully, "with such a
fortune."
"Much good _is_ done," cried her aunt, with fervor. "I am told by every
one who knows him, his donations are large and frequent. Sir Herbert
Nicholson said he was extremely simple in his habits, and it leaves large
sums at his disposal every year."
"The bestowal of money is not always charity," said Emily, with an arch
smile and a slight color.
Mrs. Wilson smiled in her turn as she answered, "not always, but it is
charity to hope for the best."
"Sir Herbert knew him, then?" said Emily.
"Perfectly well; they were associated together in the service for several
years, and he spoke of him with a fervor equal to my warmest
expectations."
The Moseley arms in F---- was kept by an old butler of the family, and Sir
Edward every year, in going to or coming from L----, spent a night under
its roof. He was received by its master with a respect that none who ever
knew the baronet well, could withhold from his goodness of heart and many
virtues.
"Well, Jackson," said the baronet, kindly, as he was seated at the supper
table, "how does custom increase with you--I hope you and the master of
the Dun Cow are more amicable than formerly."
"Why, Sir Edward," replied the host, who had lost a little of the
deference of the servant in the landlord, but none of his real respect,
"Mr. Daniels and I are more upon a footing of late than we was, when your
goodness enabled me to take the house; then he got all the great
travellers, and for more than a twelvemonth I had not a title in my house
but yourself and a great London doctor, that was called here to see a sick
person in the town. He had the impudence to call me the knight
barrow-knight, your honor, and we had a quarrel upon that account."
"I am glad, however, to find you are gaining in the rank of your
customers, and trust, as the occasion has ceased, you will be more
inclined to be good-natured to each other."
"Why, as to good-nature, Sir Edward, I lived with your honor ten years,
and you must know somewhat of my temper," said Jackson, with the
self-satisfaction of an approving conscience; "but Sam Daniels is a man
who is never easy unless he is left quietly at the top of the ladder;
however," continued the host, with a chuckle, "I have given him a dose
lately."
"How so, Jackson?" inquired the baronet, willing to gratify the man's wish
to relate his triumphs.
"Your honor must have heard mention made of a great lord, the Duke of
Derwent; well, Sir Edward, about six weeks agone he passed through with my
Lord Chatterton."
"Chatterton!" exclaimed John, interrupting him, "has he been so near us
again, and so lately?"
"Yes, Mr. Moseley," replied Jackson with a look of importance: "they
dashed into my yard with their chaise and four, with five servants, and
would you think it, Sir Edward, they hadn't been in the house ten minutes,
before Daniels son was fishing from the servants, who they were; I told
him, Sir Edward--dukes don't come every day."
"How came you to get his grace away from the Dun Cow--chance?"
"No, your honor," said the host, pointing to his sign, and bowing
reverently to his old master, "the Moseley Arms did it. Mr. Daniels used
to taunt me with having worn a livery, and has said more than once he
could milk his cow, but that your honor's arms would never lift me into a
comfortable seat for life; so I just sent him a message by the way of
letting him know my good fortune, your honor."
"And what was it?"
"Only that your honor's arms had shoved a duke and a baron into my
house--that's all."
"And I suppose Daniels' legs shoved your messenger out of his," said John,
laughing.
"No, Mr. Moseley; Daniels would hardly dare do that but yesterday, your
honor, yesterday evening, beat everything. Daniels was seated before his
door, and I was taking a pipe at mine, Sir Edward, as a coach and six,
with servants upon servants, drove down the street; it got near us, and
the boys were reining the horses into the yard of the Dun Cow, as the
gentleman in the coach saw my sign: he sent a groom to inquire who kept
the house; I got up, your honor, and told him my name, sir. 'Mr. Jackson,'
said his lordship, 'my respect for the family of Sir Edward Moseley is too
great not to give my custom to an old servant of his family.'"
"Indeed," said the baronet; "pray who was my lord?"
"The Earl of Pendennyss, your honor. Oh, he is a sweet gentleman, and he
asked all about my living with your honor, and about Madam Wilson."
"Did his lordship stay the night?" inquired Mrs. Wilson, excessively
gratified at a discovery of the disposition manifested by the earl towards
her.
"Yes, madam, he left here after breakfast."
"What message did you send the Dun Cow this time, Jackson?" cried John.
Jackson looked a little foolish, but the question being repeated, he
answered--"Why, sir, I was a little crowded for room, and so your honor,
so I just sent Tom across the street, to know if Mr. Daniels couldn't keep
a couple of the grooms."
"And Tom got his head broke."
"No, Mr. John, the tankard missed him; but if--"
"Very well," said the baronet, willing to change the conversation, "you
have been so fortunate of late, you can afford to be generous; and I
advise you to cultivate harmony with your neighbor, or I may take my arms
down, and you may lose your noble visiters--see my room prepared."
"Yes, your honor," said the host, and bowing respectfully he withdrew.
"At least, aunt," cried John, pleasantly, "we have the pleasure of supping
in the same room with the puissant earl, albeit there be twenty-four
hours' difference in the time."
"I sincerely wish there had not been that difference," observed his
father, taking his sister kindly by the hand.
"Such an equipage must have been a harvest indeed to Jackson," remarked
the mother; as they broke up for the evening.
The whole establishment at Benfield Lodge, were drawn up to receive them
on the following day in the great hall, and in the centre was fixed the
upright and lank figure of its master, with his companion in leanness,
honest Peter Johnson, on his right.
"I have made out, Sir Edward and my Lady Moseley, to get as far as my
entrance, to receive the favor you are conferring upon me. It was a rule
in my day, and one invariably practised by all the great nobility, such as
Lord Gosford--and--and--his sister, the lady Juliana Dayton, always to
receive and quit their guests in the country at the great entrance; and in
conformity--ah, Emmy dear," cried the old gentleman, folding her in his
arms as the tears rolled down his cheeks, forgetting his speech in the
warmth of his feeling, "You are saved to us again; God be praised--there,
that will do, let me breathe--let me breathe;" and then by the way of
getting rid of his softer feelings, he turned upon John; "so, youngster,
you would be playing with edge tools, and put the life of your sister in
danger. No gentleman held a gun in my day; that is, no gentleman about the
court. My Lord Gosford had never killed a bird in his life, or drove his
horse; no sir, gentlemen then were not coachmen. Peter how old was I
before I took the reins of the chaise, in driving round the estate--the
time you broke your arm? it was--"
Peter, who stood a little behind his master, in modest retirement, and who
had only thought his elegant form brought thither to embellish the show,
when called upon, advanced a step, made a low bow, and answered in his
sharp key:
"In the year 1798, your honor, and the 38th of his present majesty, and
the 64th year of your life, sir, June the 12th, about meridian."
Peter dropped back as he finished; but recollecting himself, regained his
place with a bow, as he added, "new style."
"How are you, old style?" cried John, with a slap on the back, that made
the steward jump again.
"Mr. John Moseley--young gentleman"--a term Peter had left off using to
the baronet within the last ten years, "did you think--to bring home--the
goggles?"
"Oh yes," said John, gravely, producing them from his pocket. Most of the
party having entered the parlor, he put them carefully on the bald head of
the steward--"There, Mr Peter Johnson, you have your property again, safe
and sound."
"And Mr. Denbigh said he felt much indebted to your consideration in
sending them," said Emily, soothingly, as she took them off with her
beautiful hands.
"Ah, Miss Emmy," said the steward, with one of his best bows, "that was--a
noble act; God bless him!" then holding up his finger significantly, "the
fourteenth codicil--to master's will," and Peter laid his finger alongside
his nose, as he nodded his head in silence.
"I hope the thirteenth contains the name of honest Peter Johnson," said
the young lady, who felt herself uncommonly well pleased with the
steward's conversation.
"As witness, Miss Emmy--witness to all--but God forbid," said the steward
with solemnity, "I should ever live to see the proving of them: no, Miss
Emmy, master has done for me what he intended, while I had youth to enjoy
it. I am rich, Miss Emmy--good three hundred a year." Emily, who had
seldom heard so long a speech as the old man's gratitude drew from him,
expressed her pleasure at hearing it, and shaking him kindly by the hand,
left him for the parlor.
"Niece," said Mr. Benfield, having scanned the party closely with his
eyes, "where is Colonel Denbigh?"
"Colonel Egerton, you mean, sir," interrupted Lady Moseley.
"No, my Lady Moseley," replied her uncle, with great formality, "I mean
Colonel Denbigh. I take it he is a colonel by this time," looking
expressively at the baronet; "and who is fitter to be a colonel or a
general, than a man who is not afraid of gunpowder?"
"Colonels must have been scarce in your youth, sir," cried John, who had
rather a mischievous propensity to start the old man on his hobby.
"No, jackanapes, gentlemen killed one another then, although they did not
torment the innocent birds: honor was as dear to a gentleman of George
the Second's court, as to those of his grandson's, and honesty too,
sirrah--ay, honesty. I remember when we were in, there was not a man of
doubtful integrity in the ministry, or on our side even; and then again,
when we went out, the opposition benches were filled with sterling
characters, making a parliament that was correct throughout. Can you show
me such a thing at this day?"