Chapter I

Sir Richard Crofts brought Mr. Rochely to Lord Montreville at the time appointed; and in consequence of the conversation then held, his Lordship was confirmed in his resolution of persisting in the plan Sir Richard had laid down, to force Emmeline to accept the good fortune offered her. Lord Montreville had sent as soon as he got to town to Delamere's lodgings, whose servants said that he had slept there, but was then gone out. His Lordship concluded he was gone to Clapham; but as he could not remedy his uneasiness on that head, he was obliged to endure it. About twelve o'clock Delamere had arranged matters for his concealment; and about three, as Lord Montreville was dressing to go out, Millefleur, together with Delamere's footman and groom, came as they had been ordered to Berkley-square. This circumstance was no sooner related to Lord Montreville by his valet de chambre, than he ordered Millefleur to be sent up. The Frenchman related to his Lordship, that his master was certainly gone to Mr. Percival's; but Lord Montreville concluded he was gone to Scotland, and, in a tempest of anger and vexation, cursed the hour when he had listened to the advice of Sir Richard Crofts, the harshness of whose proceedings had, he imagined, precipitated the event he had so long dreaded. He was so entirely persuaded that this conjecture was the truth, that he first gave orders for a post-chaise and four to be ready directly; then recollecting that if he overtook his son he had no power to force him back, he thought it better to take with him some one who could influence Emmeline. His youngest daughter was still in Yorkshire; Mrs. Stafford he knew not where to find; but he supposed that Mrs. Ashwood, with whom she had lived some months, might have power to persuade her; and not knowing what else to do, indeed hardly knowing what he expected from the visit, he ordered his coachman to be as expeditious as possible in conveying him to the house of that lady.

Mrs. Ashwood, her brother, and four or five other persons related to the family, were at dinner. Lord Montreville entered the room; spoke to those he knew with as much civility as he could; but not seeing Emmeline among them, his apprehensions were confirmed. He desired they would not disturb themselves; and declined sharing their repast; but being unable to conceal his emotion till it was over, he said to Mrs. Ashwood--'I am sorry, Madam, to trouble you on this unhappy business. I did hope you would have had the goodness at least to inform me of it. What can I do?' exclaimed he, breaking suddenly from his discourse and rising--'Good God, what can I do?'

The company were silent, and amazed.

Mrs. Ashwood, however, said, 'I am sorry that any thing, my Lord, has disturbed your Lordship. I am sure I should have been happy, my Lord, could I have been of any service to your Lordship in whatever it is.'

'Disturbed!' cried he, striking his forehead with his hand, 'I am distracted! When did she go? How long has she been gone?'

'Who, my Lord?'

'Miss Mowbray--Emmeline--Oh! it will be impossible to overtake them!'

'Gone! my Lord?'

'Gone with Delamere!--Gone to Scotland!'

'Miss Mowbray was however in the house not an hour ago,' said Miss Galton; 'I saw her myself go up the garden just as we sat down to dinner.'

'Then she went to meet him!--then they went together!'--exclaimed Lord Montreville, walking round the room.

An assertion so positive staggered every one. They rose from table in confusion.

'Let us go up,' said Mrs. Ashwood; 'I can hardly think it possible, my Lord, that Miss Mowbray is gone, unless your Lordship absolutely saw them.'

Yet Mrs. Ashwood remembered that Delamere had been there in the morning, and that Emmeline had dined early alone, and had remained by herself all the rest of the day, under pretence of sickness; and she began to believe that all this was done to give her time to elope with Delamere.

She went up stairs; and Lord Montreville, without knowing what he did, followed her. The stairs were carpetted; any one ascending was hardly heard; and Mrs. Ashwood suddenly throwing open the door of her chamber, Lord Montreville saw her, with her handkerchief held to her face, hanging over a packet of papers which lay on the table before her.

Emmeline did not immediately look up--an exclamation from Lord Montreville made her take her handkerchief from her eyes.

She arose; tried to conceal the sorrow visible in her countenance yet wet with tears, and assuming as much as she could her native ease and sweetness, she advanced towards his Lordship, who still stood at the door, amazed, and asked him if he would pardon her for desiring him to sit down in a bed-chamber; if not, she would wait on him below. She then went back to the table; threw the papers into the casket that was on it; and placing a chair between that and the fire, again asked him if he would do her the honour to sit down.

Lord Montreville did so, but said nothing. He was ashamed of his precipitancy; yet as Emmeline did not know it, he would not mention it; and was yet too full of the idea to speak of any thing else.

Mrs. Ashwood had left them--Emmeline continued silent.

Lord Montreville, after a long pause, at length said, with a stern and displeased countenance, 'I understand, Miss Mowbray, that my son was here this morning.'

'Yes, my Lord.'

'Pray, do you know where he now is?'

'I do not, indeed. Is he not at your Lordship's house?'

'No; I am told by his servants that he is gone to Mr. Percival's--But _you_--'(continued he, laying a strong emphasis on the word) '_you_, Miss Mowbray, are I dare say better informed of his intentions than any one else.'

'Upon my word, my Lord,' answered Emmeline, astonished, 'I do _not_ know. He said nothing to me of an intention to go any where; on the contrary, he told me he should be here again to-morrow.'

'And is it possible you are ignorant of his having left London this morning, immediately after he returned from visiting you?'

'My Lord, I have never yet stooped to the meanness of a falsehood. Why should your Lordship now suppose me guilty of it? I repeat--and I hope you will do me the justice to believe me--upon my honour I do _not_ know whither Mr. Delamere is gone--nor do I know that he has left London.'

Lord Montreville could not but believe her. But while his fears were relieved as to the elopement, they were awakened anew by the uncertainty of what was become of his son, and what his motive could be for this sudden disappearance.

He thought however the present opportunity of speaking to Emmeline of his resolution was not to be neglected.

'However ignorant you may be, Miss Mowbray,' said he, 'of the reason of his having quitted his lodgings, you are not to learn that his motive for estranging himself from his family, and becoming a stranger to his father's house, originates in his inconsiderate attachment to you. Contrary to the assurances you gave me at Swansea, you have encouraged this attachment; and, as I understand from Sir Richard Crofts, you peremptorily and even rudely refuse the opportunity now offered you of establishing yourself in rank and affluence, which no other young woman would a moment hesitate to accept. Such a refusal cannot be owing to mere caprice; nor could it possibly happen had you not determined, in despite of every objection, and of bringing discord into my family, to listen to that infatuated and rash young man.'

'Your Lordship does not treat me with your usual candour. I have promised you, voluntarily promised you, not to marry Mr. Delamere without your Lordship's consent. To prevent his coming here was out of my power; but if I really aspired to the honour of which your Lordship thinks me ambitious, _what_ has prevented me from engaging at once with Mr. Delamere? who has, I own to you, pressed me repeatedly to elope. My Lord, while I am treated with kindness and confidence, I can rely upon my own resolution to deserve it; _but_ when your Lordship, on suspicion or misrepresentation, is induced to withdraw that kindness and confidence--why should _I_ make a point of honour, where _you_ no longer seem to expect it?'

The truth of this answer, as well as it's spirit, at once hurt and irritated Lord Montreville.

Determined to separate Emmeline from his son, he was mortified to be forced to acknowledge in his own breast that she merited all his affection, and angry that she should be in the right when he wished to have found something to blame in her conduct. Pride and self-love seemed to resent that a little weak girl should pretend to a sense of rectitude, and a force of understanding greater than his own.

'Miss Mowbray,' said his Lordship sharply, 'I will be very explicit with you--either consent to marry Mr. Rochely, whose affection does you so much honour, or expect from me no farther kindness.'

'Your Lordship knows,' answered Emmeline, 'that I have no friend on whom I have the least claim but you. If you abandon me--but, my Lord, ought you to do it?----I am indeed most friendless!'

She could no longer command her tears--sobs obliged her to cease speaking.

Lord Montreville thought her resolution would give way; and trying to divest himself of all feeling, with an effort truly political, he determined to press his point.

'It is in your power,' resumed he, 'not only to place yourself above all fear of such desertion, but to engage my affection and that of my whole family. You will be in a situation of life which I should hardly refuse for one of the Miss Delameres. You will possess the most unbounded affluence, and a husband who adores you. A man unexceptionable in character; of a mature age; and whose immense fortune is every day encreasing. You will be considered by me, and by Lady Montreville, as a daughter of the house of Mowbray. The blemish of your birth will be wiped off and forgotten.'

Emmeline wept more than before.

And his Lordship continued, 'If you absurdly refuse an offer so infinitely above your expectations, I shall consider myself as having more than done my duty in putting it in your way; and that your folly and imprudence dissolve all obligation on my part. You must no longer call yourself Mowbray; and you must forget that you ever were allowed to be numbered among the relations of my family. Nor shall I think myself obliged in any manner to provide for a person, who in scorn of gratitude, prudence and reputation, throws from her an opportunity of providing for herself.'

Emmeline regained some degree of resolution. She looked up, her eyes streaming with tears, and said, 'Well, my Lord! to the lowest indigence I must then submit; for to marry Mr. Rochely is not in my power.'

'We will suppose for a moment,' resumed Lord Montreville, 'that you could realize the visionary hopes you have presumed to indulge of uniting yourself to Mr. Delamere. Dear as he is to me and his mother, we are determined from that moment to renounce him--never shall the rebellious son who has dared to disobey us, be again admitted to our presence!--never will we acknowledge as his wife, a person forced upon us and introduced into our family in despite of our commands, and in violation of duty, honour, and affection. _You_ will be the occasion of his being loaded with the curses of both his parents, and of introducing misery and discord into his family. Can you yourself be happy under such circumstances? In point of fortune too you will find yourself deceived--while _we_ live, Mr. Delamere can have but a very slender income; and of every thing in our power we shall certainly deprive him, both while we live, and at our decease. Consider well what I have said; and make use of your reason. Begin by giving up to me the ridiculous witnesses of a ridiculous and boyish passion, which must be no longer indulged; to keep a picture of Delamere is discreditable and indelicate--you will not refuse to relinquish it?'

He reached over the table, and took from among two or three loose papers, which yet lay before Emmeline, a little blue enamelled case, which he concluded contained a miniature of Delamere, of whom several had been drawn. Emmeline, absorbed in tears, did not oppose it. The spring of the case was defective. It opened in his hand; and presented to his view, not a portrait of his son, but of his brother, drawn when he was about twenty, and at a period when he was more than a brother--when he was the dearest friend Lord Montreville had on earth. A likeness so striking, which he had not seen for many years, had an immediate effect upon him.

His brother seemed to look at him mournfully. A melancholy cast about the eye-brows diminished the vivacity of the countenance, and the faded colour (for the picture had been painted seven and twenty years) gave it a look of languor and ill health; such perhaps as the original wore before his death, when a ruined constitution threatened him for some months, tho' his life terminated by a malignant fever in a few hours.

The poor distrest Emmeline was the only memorial left of him; and Lord Montreville felt her tears a reproach for his cruelty in thus threatening to abandon to her fate, the unhappy daughter of this once loved brother.

Sir Richard Crofts and Lady Montreville were not by, to intercept these sentiments of returning humanity. He found the tears fill his eyes as he gazed on the picture.

Emmeline, insensible of every thing, saw it not; and not conscious that he had taken it, the purport of his last words she believed to relate to a sketch she had herself made of Delamere. She was therefore surprized, when Lord Montreville arising, took her hand, and in a voice that witnessed the emotion of his soul, said--'Come, my dear Emmeline, pardon me for thus distressing you, you shall _not_ be compelled to marry Mr. Rochely if you have so great a dislike to him. You shall still have an adequate support; and I trust I shall have nothing to fear from your indiscretion in regard to Delamere.'

'Your Lordship,' answered Emmeline, without taking her handkerchief from her eyes, 'has never yet found me capable of falsehood: I will repeat, if you desire it, the promise I gave you--I will even take the most solemn oath you shall dictate, never to be the wife of Mr. Delamere, unless your Lordship and Lady Montreville consent.'

'I take your promise,' answered his Lordship, 'and shall rely firmly upon it. But Emmeline, you must go from hence for your own sake; your peace and reputation require it; Delamere must not frequent the house where you are: you must conceal from him the place of your abode.'

'My Lord, I will be ingenuous with you. To go from hence is what I intend, and with your Lordship's permission I will set out immediately for Mrs. Stafford's. But to conceal from Mr. Delamere where I am, is not in my power; for I have given him a solemn promise to see him if he desires it, wherever I shall be: and as I hope you depend on my honour, it must be equally sacred whether given to him or you. You will therefore not insist on my breaking this engagement, and I promise you again never to violate the other.'

With this compromise, Lord Montreville was obliged to be content. He entreated Emmeline to see Rochely again, and hear his offers. But she absolutely refused; assuring Lord Montreville, that were his fortune infinitely greater, she would not marry him, tho' servitude should be the alternative.

His Lordship therefore forbore to press her farther. He desired, that if Delamere wrote to her, or saw her, she would let him know, which she readily agreed to; and he told her, that so long as she was single, and did nothing to disoblige him, he would pay her an hundred guineas a year in quarterly payments. He gave her a bank note of fifty pounds; and recommending it to her to go as soon as possible to Mrs. Stafford's, he kissed her cheek with an appearance of affection greater than he had yet shewn, and then went home to prepare for the reception of Lady Montreville, whose arrival he did not greatly wish for; dreading lest her violence and ill-temper should drive his son into some new extravagance. But as her will was not to be disputed, he submitted without remonstrance to the alteration of the plan he had proposed; which was, that his family should pass their Christmas in Norfolk, whither he intended to have returned.

The next day Delamere was again at Clapham, very early.

Emmeline, the additional agitation of whose mind had prevented her sleeping during the night, appeared more indisposed than she had done the day before.

Delamere, very much alarmed at her altered looks, anxiously enquired the cause? And without hesitation she told him simply all that had passed; the promise she had given to his father, to which she intended strictly to adhere, and the arrangement she had agreed to on condition of being persecuted no more on the score of Mr. Rochely.

It is impossible to describe the grief and indignation of Delamere, at hearing this relation. He saw all the hopes frustrated which he had been so long indulging; he saw between him and all he loved, a barrier which time only could remove; he dared not hope that Emmeline would ever be induced to break an engagement which she considered as binding; he dared not flatter himself with the most distant prospect of procuring the consent of Lord and Lady Montreville, and therefore by their deaths only could he obtain her; which if he had been unnatural enough to wish, was yet in all probability very distant; as Lord Montreville was not more than seven and forty, and of an excellent constitution; and Lady Montreville three years younger.

Passion and resentment for some moments stifled every other sentiment in the heart of Delamere. But the impediments that thus arose to his wishes were very far from diminishing their violence.

The more impossible his union with Emmeline seemed to be, the more ardently he desired it. The difficulties that might have checked, or conquered an inferior degree of passion, served only to strengthen his, and to render it insurmountable--

It was some moments before Emmeline could prevail upon him to listen to her. She then enquired why he had concealed himself from his father, and where he had been?

He answered, that he had avoided Lord Montreville, because, had he met him, he found himself incapable of commanding his temper and of forbearing to resent his sending Sir Richard Crofts to her, which he had promised her not to do. That therefore he had taken other lodgings in another part of the town, where he intended to remain.

Emmeline exhorted and implored him to return to Berkley-square. He positively refused. He refused also to tell her where he lodged. And complaining loudly of her cruelty and coldness, yet tenderly entreating her to take care of her health, he left her; having first procured permission to see her the next day, and every day till she set out for Woodfield.

When he was gone, Miss Mowbray wrote to Lord Montreville--

'My Lord,

'In pursuance of the word I passed to your Lordship, I have the
honour to acquaint you that Mr. Delamere has just left me. I
endeavoured to prevail on him to inform me where he lodges; but he
refuses to give me the least information. If it be your Lordship's
wish to see him, you will probably have an opportunity of doing it
here, as he proposed being here to-morrow; but refused to name the
hour, apprehending perhaps that you might meet him, as I did not
conceal from him that I should acquaint you with my having seen him.

I have the honour to be,
my Lord,
your Lordship's
most obedient servant,
EMMELINE MOWBRAY.'
_Clapham, Dec. 3._

Lord Montreville received this letter in her Ladyship's dressing-room. The servant who brought it in, said it came from Clapham; and Lady Montreville insisted on seeing its contents. She had been before acquainted with what had passed; and bestowed on her son the severest invectives for his obstinacy and folly. Poor Emmeline however, who was the cause of it, was the principal object of her resentment and disdain. Even this last instance of her rectitude, could not diminish the prejudice which embittered the mind of Lady Montreville against her. She lamented, whenever she deigned to speak of her, that the laws of this country, unlike those of better regulated kingdoms, did not give people of fashion power to remove effectually those who interfered with their happiness, or were inimical to their views. 'If this little wretch,' said she, 'was in France, it would not be difficult to put an end to the trouble she has dared to give us. A _letter de cachet_ would cure the creature of her presumption, and place her where her art and affectation should not disturb the peace of families of high rank.'

Lord Montreville heard these invectives without reply, but not without pain.

Augusta Delamere, who arrived in Berkley-square the same morning that Lady Montreville did, felt still more hurt by her mother's determined hatred to Emmeline, whom she languished to see, and had never ceased to love.

Miss Delamere inheriting all the pride of her mother, and adding to it a sufficient share of vanity and affectation of her own, had taken a dislike to the persecuted Emmeline, if possible more inveterate than that of Lady Montreville. Tho' she had never seen her, she detested her; and exerted all her influence on her mother to prevent her being received into the family as her father's relation. Fitz-Edward had praised her as the most interesting woman he had ever seen. Miss Delamere had no aversion to Fitz-Edward; and tho' he had never seemed sensible of the honour she did him, she could not divest herself wholly of that partiality towards him, which made her heartily abhor any woman he seemed to admire. When to this cause of dislike was added, what she called the insolent presumption of the animal in daring to attempt inveigling _her_ brother into the folly of marrying, she thought she might indulge all the rancour, envy, and malignity of her heart.

When Lady Montreville had read the letter, she threw it down on the table contemptuously.

'It requires no answer,' said she to the servant who waited.

The man left the room.

'Well, my Lord,' continued she, addressing herself to her husband, 'what do you intend to do about this unhappy, infatuated boy?'

'I really know not,' answered his Lordship.

'I will tell you then,' resumed she--'Go to this girl, and let her know that you will abandon her pennyless; force her to accept the honour Mr. Rochely offers her; and, by shewing a little strength of mind and resolution, break these unworthy chains with which your own want of prudence has fettered your son.'

'It has already been tried, Madam, without success. Consider that if I am bound by no obligations to support this young person, I am also without any power over her. To force her to marry Mr. Rochely is impossible. I have however her promise that she will not enter into any clandestine engagement with Delamere.'

'Her promise!' exclaimed Lady Montreville.--'And are you weak enough, my Lord, to trust to the promise of an artful, designing creature, who seems to me to have already won over your Lordship to her party? What want of common sense is this! If you will not again speak to her, and that most decisively, I will do it myself! Send her to me! I will force her not only to tell me where Delamere has had the meanness to conceal himself, but also oblige her to relinquish the hopes she has the insolence to indulge.'

Miss Delamere, who wanted to see the wonderful creature that had turned her brother's head, and who was charmed to think she should see her humbled and mortified, promoted this plan as much as possible. Augusta, dreading her brother's violence, dared not, and Lord Montreville would not oppose it, as he believed her Ladyship's overwhelming rhetoric, to which he was himself frequently accustomed to give way, might produce on Emmeline the effect he had vainly attempted. He therefore asked Lady Montreville, whether she really wished to see Miss Mowbray, and when?

'I am engaged to-morrow,' answered she, 'all day. But however, as she is a sort of person whom it will be improper to admit at any other time, let her be here at ten o'clock in the morning. She may come up, before I breakfast, into my dressing-room.'

'Shall I send one of the carriages for her?' enquired his Lordship.

'By no means,' replied the Lady. 'They will be all wanted. Let her borrow a coach of the people she lives with. I suppose all city people now keep coaches. Or if she cannot do that, a hack may be had.' Then turning to her woman, who had just brought her her snuff-box, 'Brackley,' said she, 'don't forget to order the porter to admit a young woman who will be here to-morrow, at ten o'clock; tho' she may perhaps come in a hack.'

Lord Montreville, who grew every hour more uneasy at Delamere's absence, now set out in search of him himself. He called at Fitz-Edward's lodgings; but he was not yet come to town, tho' hourly expected. His Lordship then went to Clapham, where he hoped to meet his son; but instead of doing so, Emmeline put into his hands the following letter--

'I intended to have seen you again to-day; but the pain I felt
after our interview yesterday, has so much disordered me, that it
is better not to repeat it. Cruel Emmeline!--to gratify my father
you throw me from you without remorse, without pity. I shall be the
victim of his ambition, and of your false and mistaken ideas of
honour.

'Ah! Emmeline! will the satisfaction that you fancy will arise
from this chimerical honour make you amends for the loss of such an
heart as mine! Yet think not I can withdraw it from you, cold and
cruel as you are. Alas! it is no longer in my power. But my
passions, the violence of which I cannot mitigate, prey on my frame,
and will conduct to the grave, this unhappy son, who is to be
sacrificed to the cursed politics of his family.

'I cannot see you, Emmeline, without a renewal of all those
sensations which tear me to pieces, and which I know affect you,
though you try to conceal it. For a day or two I will go into the
country. _Remember your promise_ not to remove any where but to Mrs.
Stafford's; and to let me know the day and hour when you set out.
You plead to me, that your promise to my father is _sacred_. I
expect that those you have passed to me shall be at least equally
so. Farewel! till we meet again. You know that seeing you, and being
permitted to love you, is all that renders supportable the existence
of your unhappy

F. D.'

'This letter, my Lord,' said Emmeline, was delivered by a porter. I spoke to the man, and asked him from whence he brought it? He said from a coffee-house at Charing-cross.'

'Did you answer it?'

'No, my Lord,' said Emmeline, blushing; 'I think it required no answer.'

He then told her that Lady Montreville expected to see her the next day; and named the hour.

Emmeline, terrified as she was at the idea of such an interview, was forced to assure him she would be punctual to it; and his Lordship took an hasty leave, still hoping he might meet his son. He was hardly gone, before another porter brought to Emmeline a second letter: it was from Augusta Delamere.

'At length, my dear Emmeline, I am near you, and can tell you I
still love you; tho' even that satisfaction I am forced to snatch
unknown to my mother. Oh, Emmeline! I tremble for your situation
to-morrow. The dislike that both my mother and sister have taken to
you, is inconceivable; and I am afraid that you will have a great
deal of rudeness and unkindness to encounter. I write this to
prepare you for it; and hope that your conscious innocence, and the
generosity with which you have acted, will support you. I have been
taken to task most severely by my mother for my partiality to you;
and my sister, in her contemptuous way, calls you my sweet
sentimental friend. To be sure my brother's absence is a dreadful
thing; and great allowances are to be made for my mother's
vexation; tho' I own I do not see why it should prevent her being
just. I will try to be in the room to-morrow, tho' perhaps I shall
not be permitted. Don't say you have heard from me, for the world;
but be assured I shall always love you as you deserve, and be most
truly

your affectionate and faithful,
A. DELAMERE.'

_Berkley-square, Dec. 5._