Scenes and Characters, or, Eighteen Months at Beechcroft Part 48

'No,' said Lily. 'There is nothing new, except the--Oh! I cannot tell you.'

'I wish I could do anything for you, my poor Lily,' said Alethea.

'You can look kind,' said Lily, 'and that is a great comfort. Oh!

Alethea, it was very kind of you to come and speak to me. I shall do now--I can bear it all better. You have a comforting face and voice like n.o.body else. When did you come? Have you been in the drawing- room?'

'No,' said Alethea. 'I walked here with Marianne, and finding there were visitors in the drawing-room we went to Ada, and she told me where to find you. I had something to tell you--but perhaps you know already.'

The colour on her cheek recalled all Lily's fears, and to hear the news from herself was an unexpected trial. She felt as if what she had said justified Emily's reproach, and turning away her head, replied, 'Yes, I know.'

Alethea was a little hurt by her coldness, but she ascribed it to dejection and embarra.s.sment, and blamed herself for hurrying on what she had to tell without sufficient regard for Lily's distress. There was an awkward pause, which Alethea broke, by saying, 'Your brother thought you would like to hear it from me.'

'My brother!' cried Lily, with a most sudden change of tone.

'William? Oh, Alethea! dearest Alethea; I beg your pardon. They almost made me believe it was papa. Oh! I am so very glad!'

Alethea could not help laughing, and Lily joined her heartily. It was one of the brightest hours of her life, as she sat with her hand in her friend's, pouring out her eager expressions of delight and affection. All her troubles were forgotten--how should they not, when Alethea was to be her sister! It seemed as if but a few minutes had pa.s.sed, when the sound of the great clock warned Alethea that it was time to return to Broomhill, and she asked Lilias to walk back with her. After summoning Marianne, they set out through the garden, where, on being joined by William, Lily thought it expedient to betake herself to Marianne, who was but too glad to be able freely to communicate many interesting particulars. At Broomhill she had a very enjoyable talk with Mrs. Weston, but her chief delight was in her walk home with her brother. She was high in his favour, as Alethea's chief friend. Though usually reserved, he was now open, and Lily wondered to find herself honoured with confidence. His attachment had begun in very early days, when first he knew the Westons in Brighton. Harry's death had suddenly called him away, and a few guarded expressions of his wishes in the course of the next winter had been cut short by his father. He then went to Canada, and had had no opportunity of renewing his acquaintance till the last winter, when, on coming home, to his great joy and surprise he found the Westons on the most intimate terms with his family.

He then spoke to his father, who wished him to take a little more time for consideration, and he had accordingly waited till the summer. Lily longed to know his plans for the future, and presently he went on to say that his father wished him to leave the army, live at home, and let Alethea be the head of the household.

'Oh, William! it is perfect. There is an end of all our troubles.

It is as if a great black curtain was drawn up.'

'They say such plans never succeed,' said William; 'but we mean to prove the contrary.'

'How good it will be for the children!' said Lily.

'Oh! why had we not such a guide at first?'

'She has all that Eleanor wants,' said William.

'My follies were not Eleanor's fault,' said Lily; 'but I do think I should not have been quite so silly if I had known Alethea from the first.'

It was not in the power of William himself to say more in her praise than Lily. In the eagerness of their conversation they walked slowly, and as they were crossing the last field the dinner-bell rang. As they quickened their steps they saw Mr. Mohun looking at his wheat. Lily told him how late it was.

'There,' said he, 'I am always looking after other people's affairs.

Between Rotherwood and William I have not a moment for my own crops.

However, my turn is coming. William will have it all on his hands, and the old deaf useless Baron will sit in his great chair and take his ease.'

'Not a bit, papa,' said Lily, 'the Baron will grow young, and take to dancing. He is talking nonsense already.'

'Eh! Miss Lily turned saucy? Mrs. William Mohun must take her in hand. Well, Lily, has he your consent and approbation?'

'I only wish this was eighteen months ago, papa.'

'We shall soon come into order, Lily. With Miss Aylmer for the little ones, and Mrs. Mohun for the great ones, I have little fear.'

'Miss Aylmer, papa!'

'Yes, if all turns out well. We propose to find a house for her mother in the village, and let her come every day to teach the little ones.'

'Oh! I am very glad. We liked her so much.'

'I hope,' said Mr. Mohun, 'that this plan will please Claude better than my proposal of a governess last month. He looked as if he expected Minerva with helmet, and AEgis and all. Now make haste and dress. Do not let us shock Eleanor by keeping dinner waiting longer than we can help.'

Lilias found that her sisters had long been dressed and gone down.

She dressed alone, every now and then smiling at her own happy looks reflected in the gla.s.s. Just as she had finished, Claude knocked at the door, and putting in his head, said, 'Well, Lily, has the wonderful news come forth? I see it has, by your face.'

'And do you know what it is, Claude?' said Lily.

'I know what Rotherwood meant, and I cannot think where all our senses were.'

'And, Claude, only say that you like her.'

'I think it is a very good thing indeed.'

'Only say that you cordially like her.'

'I do. I admire her sense and her gentleness very much, and I think you owe a great deal to her.'

'Then you allow that you were unjust last summer?'

'I do; but it was owing to you. You were somewhat foolish, and I thought it was her fault. Besides, I was quite tired of hearing that extraordinary name of hers for ever repeated.'

Here they were summoned to dinner, and hurried down. The dinner pa.s.sed very strangely; some were in very high spirits, others in a very melancholy mood; Eleanor and Maurice alone preserved the golden mean; and the behaviour of the merry ones was perfectly unintelligible to the rest. Reginald, still bound by his promise to Marianne, was wild to make his discovery known, and behaved in such a strange and comical manner as to call forth various reproofs from Eleanor, which provoked double mirth from the others. The cause of their amus.e.m.e.nt was ostensibly the talking over of yesterday's fete, but the laughing was more than adequate, even to the wonderful collection of odd speeches and adventures which were detailed. Emily and Jane could not guess what had come to Lily, and thought her merriment very ill-placed. Yet, in justice to Lily, it must be said that her joy no longer made her wild and thoughtless. There was something guarded and subdued about her, which made Claude reflect how different she was from the untamed girl of last summer, who could not be happy without a sort of intoxication.

The ladies returned to the drawing-room, where Ada now appeared for the first time, and while they were congratulating her Mr. Mohun summoned Eleanor away. Jane followed at a safe distance to see where they went. They shut themselves into the study, and Jane, now meeting Maurice, went into the garden with him. 'It must be coming now,' said she; 'oh! there are William and Claude talking under the plane-tree.'

'Claude has his cunning smile on,' said Maurice.

'No wonder,' said Jane, 'it is very absurd. I daresay William will hardly ever come home now. One comfort is, they will see I was right from the first.'

Jane and Maurice remained in the garden till teatime, and thus missed hearing the whole affair discussed in the drawing-room between Emily, Lilias, and Frank. This was the first news that Emily heard of it, and a very great relief it was, for she could imagine liking, and even loving, Alethea as a sister-in-law. Her chief annoyance was at present from the perception of the difference between her own position and that of Lilias. Last year how was Lily regarded in the family, and what was her opinion worth? Almost nothing; she was only a clever, romantic, silly girl, while Emily had credit at least for discretion. Now Lily was consulted and sought out by father, brothers, Eleanor--no longer treated as a child. And what was Emily?

Blamed or pitied on every side, and left to hear this important news from the chance mention of her brother-in-law, himself not fully informed. She had become n.o.body, and had even lost the satisfaction, such as it was, of fancying that her father only made her bad management an excuse for his marriage. She heard many particulars from Lily in the course of the evening, as they were going to bed; and the sisters talked with all their wonted affection, although Emily had not thought it worth while to revive an old grievance, by asking Lily's pardon for her unkind speech, and rested satisfied with the knowledge that her sister knew her heart too well to care for what she said in a moment of irritation. On the other hand, Lily did not think that she had a right to mention the plan of Alethea's government, and the next day she was glad of her reserve, for her father called her to share his early walk for the purpose of talking over the scheme, telling her that he thought she understood the state of things better than Eleanor could, and that he considered that she had sufficient influence with Emily to prevent her from making Alethea uncomfortable. The conclusion of the conversation was, that they thought they might depend upon Emily's amiability, her courtesy, and her dislike of trouble, to balance her love of importance and dignity. And that Alethea would do nothing to hurt her feelings, and would a.s.sume no authority that she could help, they felt convinced.

After breakfast Mr. Mohun called Emily into his study, informed her of his resolution, to which she listened with her usual submissive manner, and told her that he trusted to her good sense and right feeling to obviate any collisions of authority which might be unpleasant to Alethea and hurtful to the younger ones. She promised all that was desired, and though at the moment she felt hurt and grieved, she almost immediately recovered her usual spirits, never high, but always serene, and only seeking for easy amus.e.m.e.nt and comfort in whatever happened. There was no public disgrace in her deposition; it would not seem unnatural to the neighbours that her brother's wife should be at the head of the house. She would gain credit for her amiability, and she would no longer be responsible or obliged to exert herself; and as to Alethea herself, she could not help respecting and almost loving her. It was very well it was no worse.

In the meantime Lily, struck by a sudden thought, had hastened to her mother's little deserted morning-room, to see if it could not be made a delightful abode for Alethea; and she was considering of its capabilities when she started at the sound of an approaching step.

It was the rapid and measured tread of the Captain, and in a few moments he entered. 'Thank you,' said he, smiling, 'you are on the same errand as myself.'

'Exactly so,' said Lily; 'it will do capitally; how pretty Long Acre looks, and what a beautiful view of the church!'

'This room used once to be pretty,' said William, looking round, disappointed; 'it is very forlorn.'

'Ah! but it will look very different when the chairs do not stand with their backs to the wall. I do not think Alethea knows of this room, for n.o.body has sat in it for years, and we will make it a surprise. And here is your own picture, at ten years old, over the fireplace! I have such a vision, you will not know the room when I have set it to rights.'

They went on talking eagerly of the improvements that might be made, and from thence came to other subjects--Alethea herself, and the future plans. At last William asked if Lily knew what made Jane look as deplorable as she had done for the last two days, and Lily was obliged to tell him, with the addition that Eleanor had begun to inform her of the real fact, but that she had stopped her by declaring that she had known it all from the first. Just as they had mentioned her, Jane, attracted by the unusual sound of voices in Lady Emily's room, came in, asking what they could be doing there. Lily would scarcely have dared to reply, but William said in a grave, matter-of-fact way, 'We are thinking of having this room newly fitted up.'

'For Alethea Weston?' said Jane; 'how can you, Lily? I should have thought, at least, it was no laughing matter.'