CHAPTER XXIV.
_Some Account of the Party, and Its Result_.
IN SPITE of the Count Mirabel's inspiring companionship, it must beconfessed that Ferdinand's heart failed him when he entered Mr. Temple'shouse. Indeed, had it not been for the encouragement and jolly railleryof his light-hearted friend, it is not quite clear that he would havesucceeded in ascending the staircase. A mist came over his vision ashe entered the room; various forms, indeed, glanced before him, but hecould distinguish none. He felt so embarrassed, that he was absolutelymiserable. It was Mr. Temple's hand that he found he had hold of; thecalm demeanour and bland tones of that gentleman somewhat reassured him.Mr. Temple was cordial, and Count Mirabel hovered about Ferdinand, andcovered his confusion. Then he recognised the duchess and his mother;they were sitting together, and he went up and saluted them. He darednot look round for the lady of the house. Lady Bellair was talking tohis father. At last he heard his name called by the Count. 'Armine,_mon cher_, see this beautiful work!' and Ferdinand advanced, or ratherstaggered, to a window where stood the Count before a group, and ina minute he clasped the hand of Henrietta Temple. He could not speak.Katherine was sitting by her, and Lord Montfort standing behind herchair. But Count Mirabel never ceased talking, and with so much art andtact, that in a few moments he had succeeded in producing comparativeease on all sides.
'I am so glad that you have come to-day,' said Henrietta. Her eyessparkled with a strange meaning, and then she suddenly withdrew hergaze. The rose of her cheek alternately glowed and faded. It was amoment of great embarrassment, and afterwards they often talked of it.
Dinner, however, was soon announced as served, for Mirabel and Ferdinandhad purposely arrived at the last moment. As the duke advanced to offerhis arm to Miss Temple, Henrietta presented Ferdinand with a flower, asif to console him for the separation. It was a round table; the duchessand Lady Bellair sat on each side of Mr. Temple, the duke on the righthand of Miss Temple; where there were so many members of the samefamily, it was difficult to arrange the guests. Ferdinand held back,when Count Mirabel, who had secured a seat by Henrietta, beckoned toFerdinand, and saying that Lady Bellair wished him to sit next to her,pushed Ferdinand, as he himself walked away, into the vacated seat.Henrietta caught the Count's eye as he moved off; it was a laughing eye.
'I am glad you sit next to me,' said Lady Bellair to the Count, 'becauseyou are famous. I love famous people, and you are very famous. Why don'tyou come and see me? Now I have caught you at last, and you shall comeand dine with me the 7th, 8th, or 9th of next month; I have dinnerparties every day. You shall dine with me on the 8th, for then LadyFrederick dines with me, and she will taste you. You shall sit nextto Lady Frederick, and mind you flirt with her. I wonder if you are asamusing as your grandfather. I remember dancing a minuet with him atVersailles seventy years ago.'
'It is well recollected in the family,' said the Count.
'Ah! you rogue!' said the little lady, chuckling, 'you lie! I like a liesometimes,' she resumed, 'but then it must be a good one. Do you know,I only say it to you, but I am half afraid lies are more amusing thantruth.'
'Naturally,' said the Count, 'because truth must in general becommonplace, or it would not be true.'
In the meantime, Ferdinand was seated next to Henrietta Temple. He mightbe excused for feeling a little bewildered. Indeed, the wonderful eventsof the last four-and-twenty hours were enough to deprive anyone of acomplete command over his senses. What marvel, then, that he nearlycarved his soup, ate his fish with a spoon; and drank water instead ofwine! In fact, he was labouring under a degree of nervous excitementwhich rendered it quite impossible for him to observe the proprieties oflife. The presence of all these persons was insupportable to him. Fiveminutes alone with her in the woods of Ducie, and he would have feltquite reassured. Miss Temple avoided his glance! She was, in truth,as agitated as himself, and talked almost entirely to the duke; yetsometimes she tried to address him, and say kind things. She called himFerdinand; that was quite sufficient to make him happy, although he feltvery awkward. He had been seated some minutes before he observed thatGlastonbury was next to him.
'I am so nervous, dear Glastonbury,' said Ferdinand, 'that I do notthink I shall be able to remain in the room.'
'I have heard something,' said Glastonbury, with a smile, 'that makes mequite bold.'
'I cannot help fancying that it is all enchantment,' said Ferdinand.
'There is no wonder, my dear boy, that you are enchanted,' saidGlastonbury.
'Ferdinand,' said Miss Temple in a low voice, 'papa is taking wine withyou.' Ferdinand looked up and caught Mr. Temple's kind salute.
'That was a fine horse you were riding to-day,' said Count Mirabel,across the table to Miss Grandison.
'Is it not pretty? It is Lord Montfort's.'
'Lord Montfort's!' thought Ferdinand. 'How strange all this seems!'
'You were not of the riding party this morning,' said his Grace toHenrietta.
'I have not been very well this day or two,' said Miss Temple.
'Well, I think you are looking particularly well to-day,' replied theduke. 'What say you, Captain Armine?'
Ferdinand blushed, and looked confused at this appeal, and muttered somecontradictory compliments.
'Oh! I am very well now,' said Miss Temple.
'You must come and dine with me,' said Lady Bellair to Count Mirabel,'because you talk well across a table. I want a man who talks wellacross a table. So few can do it without bellowing. I think you do itvery well.'
'Naturally,' replied the Count. 'If I did not do it well, I should notdo it at all.'
'Ah! you are audacious,' said the old lady. 'I like a little impudence.It is better to be impudent than to be servile.'
'Mankind are generally both,' said the Count.
'I think they are,' said the old lady. 'Pray, is the old Duke ofThingabob alive? You know whom I mean: he was an _emigre_, and arelation of yours.'
'De Crillon. He is dead, and his son too.'
'He was a great talker,' said Lady Bellair, 'but then, he was the tyrantof conversation. Now, men were made to listen as well as to talk.'
'Without doubt,' said the Count; 'for Nature has given us two ears, butonly one mouth.'
'You said that we might all be very happy,' whispered Lord Montfort toMiss Grandison. 'What think you; have we succeeded?'
'I think we all look very confused,' said Miss Grandison. 'What afortunate, idea it was inviting Lady Bellair and the Count. They nevercould look confused.'
'Watch Henrietta,' said Lord Montfort.
'It is not fair. How silent Ferdinand is!'
'Yes, he is not quite sure whether he is Christopher Sly or not,' saidLord Montfort. 'What a fine embarrassment you have contrived, MissGrandison!'
'Nay, Digby, you were the author of it. I cannot help thinking of yourinterview with Mr. Temple. You were prompt!'
'Why, I can be patient, fair Katherine,' said Lord Montfort; 'but in thepresent instance I shrank from suspense, more, however, for others thanmyself. It certainly was a singular interview.'
'And were you not nervous?'
'Why, no; I felt convinced that the interview could have only oneresult. I thought of your memorable words; I felt I was doing what youwished, and that I was making all of us happy. However, all honour be toMr. Temple! He has proved himself a man of sense.'
As the dinner proceeded, there was an attempt on all sides to be gay.Count Mirabel talked a great deal, and Lady Bellair laughed at what hesaid, and maintained her reputation for repartee. Her ladyship had beenfor a long time anxious to seize hold of her gay neighbour, and it wasevident that he was quite 'a favourite.' Even Ferdinand grew a littlemore at his ease. He ventured to relieve the duke from some of hislabours, and carve for Miss Temple.
'What do you think of our family party?' said Henrietta to Ferdinand, ina low voice.
'I can think only of one thing,' said Ferdinand.
'I am so nervous,' she continued, 'that it s
eems to me I shall everyminute shriek, and leave the room.'
'I feel the same; I am stupefied.'
'Talk to Mr. Glastonbury; drink wine, and talk. Look, look at yourmother; she is watching us. She is dying to speak to you, and so is someone else.'
At length the ladies withdrew. Ferdinand attended them to the door ofthe dining-room. Lady Bellair shook her fan at him, but said nothing.He pressed his mother's hand. 'Good-bye, cousin Ferdinand,' said MissGrandison in a laughing tone. Henrietta smiled upon him as she passedby. It was a speaking glance, and touched his heart. The gentlemenremained behind much longer than was the custom in Mr. Temple's house.Everybody seemed resolved to drink a great deal of wine, and Mr. Templealways addressed himself to Ferdinand, if anything were required, ina manner which seemed to recognise, his responsible position in thefamily.
Anxious as Ferdinand was to escape to the drawing-room, he could notventure on the step. He longed to speak to Glastonbury on the subjectwhich engrossed his thoughts, but he had not courage. Never did a man,who really believed himself the happiest and most fortunate person inthe world, ever feel more awkward and more embarrassed. Was his fatheraware of what had occurred? He could not decide. Apparently, Henriettaimagined that his mother did, by the observation which she had made atdinner. Then his father must be conscious of everything. Katherine musthave told all. Were Lord Montfort's family in the secret? But what usewere these perplexing enquiries? It was certain that Henrietta was tobe his bride, and that Mr. Temple had sanctioned their alliance. Therecould be no doubt of that, or why was he there?
At length the gentlemen rose, and Ferdinand once more beheld HenriettaTemple. As he entered, she was crossing the room with some music in herhand, she was a moment alone. He stopped, he would have spoken, but hislips would not move.
'Well,' she said, 'are you happy?'
'My head wanders. Assure me that it is all true,' he murmured in anagitated voice.
'It is all true; there, go and speak to Lady Armine. I am as nervous asyou are.'
Ferdinand seated himself by his mother.
'Well, Ferdinand,' she said, 'I have heard wonderful things.'
'And I hope they have made you happy, mother?'
'I should, indeed, be both unreasonable and ungrateful if they did not;but I confess to you, my dear child, I am even as much astonished asgratified.'
'And my father, he knows everything?'
'Everything. But we have heard it only from Lord Montfort and Katherine.We have had no communication with anyone else. And we meet here to-dayin this extraordinary manner, and but for them we should be completelyin the dark.'
'And the duchess; do they know all?'
'I conclude so.'
''Tis very strange, is it not?'
'I am quite bewildered.'
'O mother! is she not beautiful? Do you not love her? Shall we not allbe the happiest family in the world?'
'I think we ought to be, dear Ferdinand. But I have not recovered frommy astonishment. Ah, my child, why did you not tell me when you wereill?'
'Is it not for the best that affairs should have taken the course theyhave done? But you must blame Kate as well as me; dear Kate!'
'I think of her,' said Lady Armine; 'I hope Kate will be happy.'
'She must be, dear mother; only think what an excellent person is LordMontfort.'
'He is indeed an excellent person,' said Lady Armine; 'but if I had beenengaged to you, Ferdinand, and it ended by my marrying Lord Montfort, Ishould be very disappointed.'
'The duchess would be of a different opinion,' said Ferdinand.
Lady Bellair, who was sitting on a sofa opposite, and had hitherto beenconversing with the duchess, who had now quitted her and joinedthe musicians, began shaking her fan at Ferdinand in a manner whichsignified her extreme desire that he should approach her.
'Well, Lady Bellair,' said Ferdinand, seating himself by her side.
'I am in the secret, you know,' said her ladyship.
'What secret, Lady Bellair?'
'Ah! you will not commit yourself. Well, I like discretion. I havealways seen it from the first. No one has worked for you as I have. Ilike true love, and I have left her all my china in my will.'
'I am sure the legatee is very fortunate, whoever she may be.'
'Ah, you rogue, you know very well whom I mean. You are saucy; you neverhad a warmer friend than myself. I always admired you; you have a greatmany good qualities and a great many bad ones. You always were a littlesaucy. But I like a little spice of sauciness; I think it takes. I hearyou are great friends with Count Thingabob; the Count, whosegrandfather I danced with seventy years ago. That is right; always havedistinguished friends. Never have fools for friends; they are no use. Isuppose he is in the secret too.'
'Really, Lady Bellair, I am in no secret. You quite excite mycuriosity.'
'Well, I can't get anything out of you, I see that. However, it allhappened at my house, that can't be denied. I tell you what I will do;I will give you all a dinner, and then the world will be quite certainthat I made the match.'
Lady Armine joined them, and Ferdinand seized the opportunity ofeffecting his escape to the piano.
'I suppose Henrietta has found her voice again, now,' whisperedKatherine to her cousin.
'Dear Katherine, really if you are so malicious, I shall punish you,'said Ferdinand.
'Well, the comedy is nearly concluded. We shall join hands, and thecurtain will drop.'
'And I hope, in your opinion, not an unsuccessful performance.'
'Why, I certainly cannot quarrel with the catastrophe,' said MissGrandison.
In the meantime, the Count Mirabel had obtained possession of Mr.Temple, and lost no opportunity of confirming every favourable viewwhich that gentleman had been influenced by Lord Montfort to take ofFerdinand and his conduct. Mr. Temple was quite convinced that hisdaughter must be very happy, and that the alliance, on the whole, wouldbe productive of every satisfaction that he had ever anticipated.
The evening drew on; carriages were announced; guests retired; Ferdinandlingered; Mr. Temple was ushering Lady Bellair, the last guest, to hercarriage; Ferdinand and Henrietta were alone. They looked at eachother, their eyes met at the same moment, there was but one mode ofsatisfactorily terminating their mutual embarrassments: they sprang intoeach other's arms. Ah, that was a moment of rapture, sweet, thrilling,rapid! There was no need of words, their souls vaulted over all pettyexplanations; upon her lips, her choice and trembling lips, he sealedhis gratitude and his devotion.
The sound of footsteps was heard, the agitated Henrietta made her escapeby an opposite entrance. Mr. Temple returned, he met Captain Armine withhis hat, and enquired whether Henrietta had retired; and when Ferdinandanswered in the affirmative, wished him good-night, and begged him tobreakfast with them to-morrow.
CHAPTER XXV.
_Which, Though Final, It Is Hoped Will Prove Satisfactory_.
OUR kind reader will easily comprehend that from the happy day we havejust noticed, Ferdinand Armine was seldom absent from Grosvenor-square,or from the society of Henrietta Temple. Both were so happy that theysoon overcame any little embarrassment which their novel situationmight first occasion them. In this effort, however, they were greatlyencouraged by the calm demeanour of Lord Montfort and the complacentcarriage of his intended bride. The world wondered and whispered,marvelled and hinted, but nothing disturbed Lord Montfort, and Katherinehad the skill to silence raillery. Although it was settled thatthe respective marriages should take place as soon as possible, thesettlements necessarily occasioned delay. By the application of hisfunded property, and by a charge upon his Yorkshire estates, Mr. Templepaid off the mortgages on Armine, which, with a certain life-chargein his own favour, was settled in strict entail upon the issue of hisdaughter. A certain portion of the income was to be set aside annuallyto complete the castle, and until that edifice was ready to receivethem, Ferdinand and Henrietta were to live with Mr. Temple, principallyat Ducie, which Mr. Temple had now
purchased.
In spite, however, of the lawyers, the eventful day at length arrived.Both happy couples were married at the same time and in the same place,and Glastonbury performed the ceremony. Lord and Lady Montfort departedfor a seat in Sussex, belonging to his father; Ferdinand and Henriettarepaired to Armine; while Sir Ratcliffe and his lady paid a visit to Mr.Temple in Yorkshire, and Glastonbury found himself once more in his oldquarters in Lancashire with the duke and duchess.
Once more at Armine; wandering once more together in the old pleasaunce;it was so strange and sweet, that both Ferdinand and Henrietta almostbegan to believe that it was well that the course of their true love hadfor a moment not run so smoothly as at present, and they felt that theiradversity had rendered them even more sensible of their illimitablebliss. And the woods of Ducie, they were not forgotten; nor, least ofall, the old farmhouse that had been his shelter. Certainly they werethe happiest people that ever lived, and though some years have nowpassed since these events took place, custom has not sullied thebrightness of their love. They have no cares now, and yet both haveknown enough of sorrow to make them rightly appreciate their unbrokenand unbounded blessings.
When the honeymoon was fairly over, for neither of them would bate ajot of this good old-fashioned privilege, Sir Ratcliffe and Lady Arminereturned to the Place, and Glastonbury to his tower; while Mr. Templejoined them at Ducie, accompanied by Lord and Lady Montfort. Theautumn also brought the Count Mirabel to slaughter the pheasants, gay,brilliant, careless, kind-hearted as ever. He has ever remained one ofFerdinand's most cherished friends; indeed, I hardly think that there isany individual to whom Ferdinand is more attached. And after all, as theCount often observes, if it had not been for Ferdinand's scrapes theywould not have known each other. Nor was Lord Catchimwhocan passed over.Ferdinand Armine was not the man to neglect a friend or to forget agood service; and he has conferred on that good-natured, thoughsomewhat improvident, young nobleman, more substantial kindness than thehospitality which is always cheerfully extended to him. When Ferdinandrepaid Mr. Bond Sharpe his fifteen hundred pounds, he took care that theinterest should appear in the shape of a golden vase, which is now notthe least gorgeous ornament of that worthy's splendid sideboard. Thedeer have appeared again too in the park of Armine, and many a haunchsmokes on the epicurean table of Cleveland-row.
Lady Bellair is as lively as ever, and bids fair to amuse society aslong as the famous Countess of Desmond,
Who lived to the age of a hundred and ten, And died by a fall from a cherry tree then; What a frisky old girl!
In her annual progresses through the kingdom she never omits layingunder contribution every establishment of the three families, in whosefortunes she was so unexpectedly mixed up. As her ladyship persists inasserting, and perhaps now really believes, that both matches were theresult of her matrimonial craft, it would be the height of ingratitudeif she ever could complain of the want of a hearty welcome.
In the daily increasing happiness of his beloved daughter, Mr. Templehas quite forgotten any little disappointment which he might once havefelt at not having a duke for a son-in-law, and such a duke as hisvalued friend, Lord Montfort. But Ferdinand Armine is blessed with sosweet a temper that it is impossible to live with him and not love him;and the most cordial intimacy and confidence subsist between the fatherof Henrietta Temple and his son-in-law. From the aspect of publicaffairs also, Mr. Temple, though he keeps this thought to himself,is inclined to believe that a coronet may yet grace the brow of hisdaughter, and that the barony of Armine may be revived. Soon afterthe passing of the memorable Act of 1828, Lord Montfort became therepresentative of his native county, and an active and influentialmember of the House of Commons. After the reform, Mr. Armine was alsoreturned for a borough situate near the duke's principal seat, andalthough Lord Montfort and Mr. Armine both adhere to the Whig politicsof their families, they have both also, in the most marked manner,abstained from voting on the appropriation clause; and there is littledoubt that they will ultimately support that British and nationaladministration which Providence has doubtless in store for theseoutraged and distracted realms. At least this is Mr. Temple's more thanhope, who is also in the House, and acts entirely with Lord Stanley. TheMontforts and the younger Armines contrive, through mutual visits anda town residence during the Session, to pass the greater part of theirlives together; they both honestly confess that they are a little inlove with each other's wives, but this only makes their society moreagreeable. The family circle at Armine has been considerably increasedof late; there is a handsome young Armine who has been christenedGlastonbury, a circumstance which repays the tenant of the tower forall his devotion, and this blending of his name and memory with theillustrious race that has so long occupied his thoughts and hopes, is tohim a source of constant self-congratulation. The future Sir Glastonburyhas also two younger brothers quite worthy of the blood, Temple andDigby; and the most charming sister in the world, with large violet eyesand long dark lashes, who is still in arms, and who bears the hallowedname of Henrietta. And thus ends our LOVE STORY.
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