Chapter VII: Terra Incognita (2)

She received a ready assent to her proposition, from her curious hostess, who anticipated a clearing up of all the mysteries connected with Lord Effingham.

Kate had not long enjoyed the unwonted stillness of the house, after Mrs. Storey had departed for town, and the children for their afternoon walk, when her attention was aroused by the sound of voices in the hall, and the next moment Lord Effingham walked into the room. Miss Vernon started, and with difficulty suppressed the exclamation of surprise which sprang to her lips. She rose from her seat, and stood silent, while her unwelcome visitor, advancing towards her, said, with the species of enforced quiet, which always indicated that emotion of some kind was struggling in his breast--

"I do not apologise for this intrusion, Miss Vernon, for you will, I know, forgive it, when I tell you how unconquerable is my desire to speak with you, alone. I have watched your amiable and intelligent hostess set out for town, and so made sure of some uninterrupted conversation--you must not refuse to hear me."

"No, Lord Effingham," said Miss Vernon, recovering her self-possession, "I, too, am almost glad, since you will not accept the tacit expression of my wishes, to have a decisive interview, we cannot continue on our present footing."

"The extraordinary fact of your being domesticated with such people," exclaimed Lord Effingham, abruptly, "is sufficiently eloquent of the terms on which you and your cousin parted--and I must know something more decisive from your own lips, before I resign all hopes of you. Speak! Have you and your cousin separated in consequence of her insane pride--her absurd fancy about myself?"

"If I could convey the least idea to your mind," answered Kate, holding down her indignation, in order to speak with greater force, "of the repugnance with which I shrink from such expressions, you would not, I am sure, offend me by repeating them, Good Heavens," she continued, "what effect can you imagine must be produced upon one woman by such bold, such dishonorable assertions of another."

"Dishonorable!" cried the Earl, his sallow cheek flushing for an instant. "You use strong terms, Miss Vernon."

"Not more strong than just," returned Kate. "I call it dishonorable, if, rightly or not, you conceive you have won a place in a woman's heart, to glance at the secret, even to your most intimate associate, much more to make it the subject of scornful remark to that woman's--"

She stopped, fearful of betraying herself or her cousin. Lord Effingham supplied the word--

"Rival you would have said, and you are right. I can well imagine the scorn, the bitterness with which she reproached you for all the crimes of art and dissimulation, of which _you_ are so incapable. I can fancy the passionate, unappeaseable suspicions which drove you--here," he added, after a moment's pause to glance, with unutterable contempt, round the homely room in which they sat.

Kate felt that she quailed before the true picture he had sketched.

"Your eyes are less faithful to your cousin's cause than your lips--_they_ admit much," continued Lord Effingham.

"Then what I look I will speak," returned Kate, with sudden boldness. "Georgina, if she does care for you, is not a woman to give away her heart unasked. I have known and loved her all my life--that she is not indifferent to you, is, in my eyes, incontrovertible proof that you endeavoured to win her affections. It is no disgrace to a woman," continued Kate, with encreasing boldness, "to give the heart that seems so ardently sought. No; the truer the purer--the nobler it is--the more incapable it is of conceiving the gratuitous treason that betrays it. I do not see why I should attempt to conceal the fact that I fear my cousin once loved you--with you rests the reproach; but do you suppose that I am so unreal as to trust you--to believe that a passing admiration could so change your spirit, as to teach it sympathy with mine? that your treachery to one woman would be a guarantee of good faith to another? No, my Lord! I am made of different stuff. Do not, for a moment, imagine it is in your power to cause disunion between two such tried friends as my cousin and myself--we know each other's truth--we know it is worth too much to be lightly cast aside."

She paused; and Lord Effingham, whose varied colour had settled into deadly paleness, rose, and paced the room in silence, before replying--

"You are a stern judge, Miss Vernon," he said, at length, in the deep tone of concentrated anger. "I little thought the indulgence of a harmless whim would have been so severely visited upon me. Listen, fair and rigid exposer of my follies," he continued, sneeringly. "The secret of your just severity may be summed up thus--you do not love me; therefore, the conduct you so eloquently denounce, is unextenuated by the softening consideration that it was you--your own irresistible attractions--that made me a traitor. Your indifference, perhaps your pre-occupation, lends a magnifying power to your moral sense, and I am condemned; where--circumstances slightly changed--I might have been cherished. Enough; I am satisfied there is no chance of my winning your affections. I will not, therefore, degrade myself or weary you with vain efforts." He stopped opposite to her, silently for a minute, his arms folded, his eyes fixed on her face. "I wish to God I had known you long ago, Kate--that I had met you first. How is it, that with rank, and riches, and power here--" and he touched his forehead, "all rare gifts--I have so often missed the road to happiness."

Kate, moved by the tone of despondency with which this was asked, replied hesitatingly--

"Perhaps--because you never knew where to look for it."

"And will you not direct me?" said the Earl, with intense earnestness.

Kate shook her head in silent refusal.

He gazed at her still for an instant, and then, taking her hand, said--

"In all probability, we shall never meet again. You have acted in accordance with your character--I, with mine."

And, turning away, he left the house.

Kate remained lost in thought without moving from the position in which she had heard Lord Effingham's parting words; she could hardly believe that he was really gone--that he would return no more; but stranger still, was the impression of regret and compassion he had left upon her mind. Surely there were the scattered elements of much good in his character. What was it that had so fatally disunited them? The repellent power of selfishness. He had, as he said, goodly gifts, rank, and riches, and intellectual power; but the heart, wherein is the balance which harmonises the whole, was corrupt and false; but her sensation was that of relief. One difficulty was removed; her cousin could not long remain in ignorance of his final rejection--nay, in justice to herself, she determined to mention having seen the Earl for the last time.

"My way is becoming clear," was the most distinct idea, as she endeavoured to refix her thoughts upon her book. It was in vain she read and re-read each page, the words might be traced by the eye; but the mind was far too full to admit the sense; and in the struggle between reverie and attention, Mrs. Storey returned.

"I am sure I have a thousand apologies to make, my dear, leaving you all the afternoon by yourself."

"Indeed, Mrs. Storey, you need not apologise; besides I have not been alone. Lord Effingham has been here."

"Oh, indeed," cried Mrs. Storey, eagerly.

"Yes; and I do not think we shall be troubled with him any more."

"Well, my dear, you know best; but--" and Mrs. Storey shook her head.

In truth, the kind-hearted little woman was much attached to Kate, especially since she had been domesticated with her. She would gladly have witnessed her "_entrée_" at court in the character of the Countess of Effingham, and still more gladly shone in the reflected lustre of so brilliant a friend; but if Miss Vernon did not like him it was very unfortunate.

The next morning brought Kate a letter from Lady Desmond, and another from nurse. The former, after commenting on Colonel Dashwood's sudden appearance in Dublin, and expressing, more constrainedly and coldly than usual, her hopes that Kate was happy, &c., &c., went on to say, "I am annoyed by a strange whim of nurse's; she will no doubt tell you all about it; she is determined on leaving me 'to see her people;' and as the only solution for such an amount of family affection, I must conclude that she is unhappy or uncomfortable in my establishment--I wish she would condescend to mention in what particular; but this is too candid a line of conduct for persons of her class." Kate felt deeply the acerbity with which her cousin wrote, and turned anxiously to nurse's letter for an explanation of the affair.

"My own blessed darlin'," it began, "I've a power to tell you; but, first of all, avourneen, there's yer letter that warmed yer own ould nurse's heart--my hearty thanks for it, jewil. You see, there's three weeks of the four I promised to stay with my lady gone, and I'm wearyin' to see my sisther's daughter and her childre that's doin' well in Killeesh; and an unfortunate vagabone of a boy, my cousin, they tell me is gone to the bad--so I'm sure, Miss Kate, jewil, ye'll give me lave to step over, and if I get a thrifle of work, sure I'll be better plaised nor to be here doin' nothin', but in everybody's way, an' my lady different to what she used to be--not but that she's good; but, asthore, I don't know how she and you parted, an' I never feel asy like with her, so just tell me you'll let me off stoppin' here any longer."

Kate hardly felt surprise at this intelligence. She had instinctively expected that nurse would not remain long with Lady Desmond; yet this was an increase of anxiety. "I trust she will not give away all her money," thought Kate, as she sat down to reply to Lady Desmond's letter. She expressed her regret at nurse's determination, urging, however, in extenuation, that her desire to revisit the scenes of her youth, and the few relations she had left, was natural and pardonable. After touching on all the points in her cousin's letter, she found herself concluding her own before she had courage to mention Lord Effingham's name; she therefore added a short postscript--"I have seen Lord Effingham for the last time." She next wrote her assent to nurse's project, recommending her, however, merely to go on furlough, and not to break altogether with Lady Desmond. These letters despatched, she joined her hostess.

"You remember, I told you yesterday, I wanted a good long talk with you, Mrs. Storey."

"Yes, dear, and here I am ready for it."

"You are very kind to me, Mrs. Storey."

"La, my love, it's a pleasure to me."

"You know I am very poor," said Kate, not exactly sure how to get into her subject. "I told you at Hampton Court that terrible lawsuit was not concluded, and now it seems it has died a natural death; so I must try and do something for myself."

A thundering knock here startled and interrupted her.

"Goodness, gracious me," cried Mrs. Storey, "who can that be? A very smart brougham, my dear, and--let me see--yes--no--it _is_ young Mrs. Tom Jorrocks. Well, she is very agreeable, but I wish she had not interrupted us. Delighted to see you, Mrs. Jorrocks--this is so kind and friendly," &c., &c.

By Mrs. Tom Jorrocks greetings were exchanged, and much was said of the delightful evening she had passed at Raby Villa, of Miss Vernon's charming music, and the beauty of the children; then the excitement of town was discussed, and young Mrs. Tom Jorrocks admitted that, notwithstanding its pleasures, she should be glad to be once more quietly settled at Leeds. "And besides all my own engagements," she continued, "I am busily employed looking out for a young lady to be a sort of companion to my mother-in-law, who is growing rather blind. She wants some one who will be a cheerful associate, and read aloud nicely, and be like a daughter to her; she lives with her daughter, Mrs. Wilson, but _she_ is so much engaged with her house and servants and sons, Mrs. Jorrocks is often lonely."

"I think I know a lady who might suit you," said Kate, suddenly captivated with the imaginary picture of a gentle, lonely old lady who wanted a daughter's companionship.

"Indeed it would be a great comfort if I could acquit myself well in the search," said young Mrs. Jorrocks, with a laugh. "My mother-in-law is very wealthy, and would not object to a salary of thirty or forty pounds; she is rather particular, but very kind."

"If you will allow me to call upon you to-morrow, I will let you know more particulars."

"I cannot tell the obligation you would confer upon me should you enable me to get rid of the affair. Might I ask you to call upon me to-morrow at twelve? If not too early, I shall be enchanted to see you."

"At twelve, then, I will be with you," said Kate, with a smile.

"And now, Mrs. Storey, I must bid you good morning. My compliments to Mr. Storey. Good morning Miss Vernon."

"You were surprised. I dare say, at my sudden interest in Mrs. Jorrocks' researches," said Kate to Mrs. Storey, when they were once more alone.

"Yes--no--that is, do go on and tell me--surely it can't be yourself?"

"It is indeed for myself I wish to secure the engagement," returned Miss Vernon. "I must resume the thread of my discourse, which Mrs. Jorrocks' _entré_ interrupted. I am sure you are too thoroughly English not to sympathise in my wish to _earn_ a livelihood, be it ever so humble, rather than live in dependence, even on a generous and affectionate relative like my cousin; I do not want a large salary, but a home is indispensable--at least," she added with a sigh, "a respectable protection--for a _home_ can never be found among strangers--and this appears to promise fairly enough."

"Well, my dear, you really take away my breath! I thought you were never to leave Lady Desmond! She told me so herself. I really think you are very foolish. Who would be so fit a person for you to be companion to as your own cousin? What does she think? My goodness! Who would have thought it!"

"Lady Desmond will, no doubt, be very averse to my plan, but at present I see no other open to me. I particularly wish not to join her while she is in Ireland--elsewhere I may. Indeed, I should at once have offered myself to Mrs. Jorrocks, but that I thought it right to consult you first--you might not like me to do so."

"La, my dear, I only wish you to do what you think will be for the best; but, dear me, how astonished Mrs. Tom will be, to be sure! I always told her how fashionable and rich all your friends and relations were," said Mrs. Storey, in a slightly vexed tone.

"If it annoys you in the least, pray tell me, and I will not say anything more about it--I should be grieved to vex you," said Kate, with so much sweetness of tone and manner, that Mrs. Storey gave her a hearty kiss, and wished her all success.

"Indeed, dear, you have the right spirit; and, after all, I dare say you have your own reasons for leaving Lady Desmond!"

"She is always kind and good," said Kate.

Miss Vernon was truly glad to have this explanation so well over; and though anxious as to her future, most thankful for the opening which so unexpectedly offered.

"I can stay there, at all events, till the Winters' return. Oh, when will they write!"

* * * * *

The next morning, she started early on her visit to Mrs. Tom Jorrocks, and pondered, as she went, on the difference of her feelings now from those with which she used to seek employment; formerly, she was full of anxious, palpitating hope and fear. Hoping to have good news wherewith to return to grandpapa and nurse--fearing that she might not succeed; but both sensations invigorated and spurred her on. Now it was for herself alone, she was interested; and she walked calmly, undisturbed by either hope or fear; she was almost surprised at the fearless, careless indifference with which she viewed the future.

"Can it be that I am so much alone! Oh, if I could but live with nurse! I wonder will Mr. Winter renew his proposal to take her as housekeeper when he returns."

These thoughts brought her to Mrs. Jorrocks's door. She was most cordially received. The bride was alone; and the first surprise and exclamations over, matters were speedily arranged.

"I am really ashamed to offer you what my mother-in-law has limited me to," said young Mrs. Jorrocks, with some embarrassment.

"You need not mind that," returned Kate; "I want more a--" she could not desecrate the word "home," and substituted, "a respectable residence."

"Well then, I consider you engaged; and I am sure I shall win golden opinions for sending down such a companion as yourself," returned Mrs. Tom, who had become marvellously familiar and agreeable.

"I had nearly forgotten to ask you where Mrs. Jorrocks lives--a very necessary question."

"Oh, at Carrington--her son-in-law, Mr. Wilson, is a cotton broker there."

"Carrington," repeated Kate, colouring with surprise and emotion.

"Not a very nice place, I grant," said the bride. "But the Wilsons live in the New Park, quite away from the town. Have you ever been there?"

"Yes, once. We used to live at A----, which is only an hour's drive from Carrington."

"I know; we went over there to look at the Cathedral, when I was at Carrington. Then, Miss Vernon, you will be ready to go down next week? My mother-in-law is very anxious for some one who will read to her."

"Yes," said Kate, confused by the flood of memories which welled up from the depths of her heart, at the sound of these familiar names.

"Old Mrs. Jorrocks will write and say what day she expects you. I am sure, I am delighted to have concluded this business so satisfactorily."

"Then I will wish you good morning."

"Good morning, Miss Vernon, good morning!"

* * * * *

"Dear Mrs. Storey! it is all settled!" cried Kate, on finding that lady alone. "I am going to Carrington--where--where--"

A burst of irrepressible tears choked her voice.

"My dear girl! don't now--there's a love! here, smell to the salts," exclaimed Mrs. Storey, in great perplexity; she did not understand the grateful sympathy of silence on such occasions.

"I was so happy there--so unutterably light-hearted! the world was all joy to me--existence in itself a blessing! And to go back there now, when some strange spell seems to have doomed me to utter loneliness! Grandpapa gone, nurse gone, Georgy, Mr. Winter, his kind wife, all I was ever linked with in happy days, far away."

"My love, don't go there; stay a bit longer with us; you know, if the house was only a little larger, I would not let you go away for ever so long; but--"

"Dear friend," said Kate, recovering herself--"I was surprised into this outburst--do not mind it--I am quite resolved to go to Mrs. Jorrocks. Nay, when I have conquered my foolish weakness, I shall be pleased to be near my old haunts. I will go to my room and think--I am always better when I think by myself."

"Very well, dear, whatever you like."

Long and earnestly did Kate think, and her thoughts were prayers. She looked steadily at the past; and, from its trials and blessings, gathered strength for the future.

And fancy, which is ever so strangely at variance with the exterior atmosphere of prosperity or depression, held up a bright picture of Egerton, standing between her and all future loneliness, of his manly tenderness, and simple truth, till she almost fancied she heard his well known voice speaking to her, those lovely words of Longfellow's--

"Oh, let thy weary heart rest upon mine,
And it shall faint no more, nor thirst, nor hunger,
But be satisfied and filled with my affection,"

"I am wrong, I am too bold, to let such thoughts glance across my mind. I will not let them come again, how weak, how vain they are! but I can never think of dear grandpapa, without seeing Colonel Egerton, as it were, beside him, they are so closely linked in my heart."

And with sudden decision she rose, bathed her eyes, and joined Mrs. Storey on a journey to Bond Street.

As young Mrs. Jorrocks had prophesied, Kate received a speedy summons from _La Belle Mère_. The letter was written in much the same style of caligraphy, in which a small "dress-maker" notes down her little account; the orthography was tolerably correct; but the composition was rather confused.

"Poor thing," said Miss Vernon, mentally; "she is probably too blind to write with ease--perhaps her maid acted as amanuensis. I hope she is a loveable person. What wonderful changes I have seen;" and turning to her desk, she wrote to Mrs. Jorrocks, promising to be with her on the specified Thursday.

"Dear nurse used to say Thursday was a lucky day," she said, as she closed the letter. After some consideration, she determined on informing nurse and her cousin that she was tired of London, and going to stay with some acquaintances she had made through Mrs. Storey. "There can be no use in unnecessarily fretting them," she thought. "I am determined not to go to Georgy till I can trace a very different tone in her letters; she cannot help her suspicions, I believe; but I need not make her more unhappy than she is. How I wish I could see some newspaper announcement of Lord Effingham's departure for the continent!"

But her wish was in vain, Lord Effingham continued to revolve between London and Cowes; and Lady Desmond's reply was strangely commingled with petulance and affection.