The Absentee (12 page)

'Regard, respect, esteem, admiration!—Why, my dearest Colambre! this
is saying all I want; satisfies me, and I am sure would satisfy Mrs
Broadhurst and Miss Broadhurst too.'

'No doubt it will, ma'am; but not if I aspired to the honour of Miss
Broadhurst's hand, or professed myself her lover.'

'My dear, you are mistaken; Miss Broadhurst is too sensible a girl, a
vast deal, to look for love, and a dying lover, and all that sort
of stuff; I am persuaded—indeed I have it from good, from the best
authority—that the young lady—you know one must be delicate in these
cases, where a young lady of such fortune, and no despicable family too
is concerned; therefore I cannot speak quite plainly—but I say I have
it from the best authority, that you would be preferred to any other
suitor, and, in short, that—'

'I beg your pardon, madam, for interrupting you,' cried Lord Colambre,
colouring a good deal; 'but you must excuse me if I say, that the only
authority on which I could believe this is one from which I am morally
certain I shall never hear it from Miss Broadhurst herself.'

'Lord, child! if you would only ask her the question, she would tell you
it is truth, I daresay.'

'But as I have no curiosity on the subject, ma'am—'

'Lord bless me! I thought everybody had curiosity. But still, without
curiosity, I am sure it would gratify you when you did hear it; and
can't you just put the simple question?'

'Impossible!'

'Impossible!—now that is so very provoking when the thing is all but
done. Well, take your own time; all I will ask of you then is, to let
things go on as they are going—smoothly and pleasantly; and I'll not
press you farther on the subject at present, Let things go on smoothly,
that's all I ask, and say nothing.'

'I wish I could oblige you, mother; but I cannot do this. Since you
tell me that the world and Miss Broadhurst's friends have already
misunderstood my intentions, it becomes necessary, in justice to
the young lady and to myself, that I should make all further doubt
impossible. I shall, therefore, put an end to it at once, by leaving
town to-morrow.'

Lady Clonbrony, breathless for a moment with surprise, exclaimed,
'Bless me! leave town to-morrow! Just at the beginning of the season!
Impossible!—I never saw such a precipitate, rash young man. But
stay only a few weeks, Colambre; the physicians advise Buxton for my
rheumatism, and you shall take us to Buxton early in the season—you
cannot refuse me that. Why, if Miss Broadhurst was a dragon, you could
not be in a greater hurry to run away from her. What are you afraid of?'

'Of doing what is wrong—the only thing, I trust, of which I shall ever
be afraid.'

Lady Clonbrony tried persuasion and argument—such argument as she could
use—but all in vain—Lord Colambre was firm in his resolution; at last,
she came to tears; and her son, in much agitation, said—

'I cannot bear this, mother! I would do anything you ask, that I could
do with honour; but this is impossible.'

'Why impossible? I will take all blame upon myself; and you are sure
that Miss Broadhurst does not misunderstand you, and you esteem her,
and admire her, and all that; and all I ask is, that you'll go on as you
are, and see more of her; and how do you know but you may fall in love
with her, as you call it, to-morrow?'

'Because, madam, since you press me so far, my affections are engaged
to another person. Do not look so dreadfully shocked, my dear mother—I
have told you truly, that I think myself too young, much too young,
yet to marry. In the circumstances in which I know my family are, it is
probable that I shall not for some years be able to marry as I wish.
You may depend upon it that I shall not take any step, I shall not
even declare my attachment to the object of my affection, without
your knowledge; and, far from being inclined to follow headlong my own
passions—strong as they are—be assured that the honour of my family,
your happiness, my mother, my father's, are my first objects: I shall
never think of my own till these are secured.'

Of the conclusion of this speech, Lady Clonbrony heard only the sound
of the words; from the moment her son had pronounced that his affections
were engaged, she had been running over in her head every probable and
improbable person she could think of; at last, suddenly starting up, she
opened one of the folding-doors into the next apartment, and called—

'Grace!—Grace Nugent!—put down your pencil, Grace, this minute, and
come here!'

Miss Nugent obeyed with her usual alacrity; and the moment she entered
the room, Lady Clonbrony, fixing her eyes full upon her, said—

'There's your cousin Colambre tells me his affections are engaged.'

'Yes, to Miss Broadhurst, no doubt,' said Miss Nugent, smiling, with a
simplicity and openness of countenance which assured Lady Clonbrony that
all was safe in that quarter: a suspicion which had darted into her mind
was dispelled.

'No doubt. Ay, do you hear that NO DOUBT, Colambre?—Grace, you see, has
no doubt; nobody has any doubt but yourself, Colambre.'

'And are your affections engaged, and not to Miss Broadhurst?' said Miss
Nugent, approaching Lord Colambre.

'There now! you see how you surprise and disappoint everybody,
Colambre.'

'I am sorry that Miss Nugent should be disappointed,' said Lord
Colambre.

'But because I am disappointed, pray do not call me Miss Nugent, or turn
away from me, as if you were displeased.'

'It must, then, be some Cambridgeshire lady,' said Lady Clonbrony. 'I am
sure I am very sorry he ever went to Cambridge,—Oxford I advised: one
of the Miss Berryls, I presume, who have nothing. I'll have nothing
more to do with those Berryls—there was the reason of the son's vast
intimacy. Grace, you may give up all thoughts of Sir Arthur.'

'I have no thoughts to give up, ma'am,' said Miss Nugent, smiling. 'Miss
Broadhurst,' continued she, going on eagerly with what she was saying
to Lord Colambre—'Miss Broadhurst is my friend, a friend I love and
admire; but you will allow that I strictly kept my promise, never
to praise her to you, till you should begin to praise her to me. Now
recollect, last night, you did praise her to me, so justly, that I
thought you liked her, I confess; so that it is natural I should feel
a little disappointed. Now you know the whole of my mind; I have
no intention to encroach on your confidence; therefore, there is no
occasion to look so embarrassed. I give you my word, I will never speak
to you again upon the subject,' said she, holding out her hand to him,
'provided you will never again call me Miss Nugent. Am I not your own
cousin Grace—Do not be displeased with her.'

'You are my own dear cousin Grace; and nothing can be farther from my
mind than any thought of being displeased with her; especially just at
this moment, when I am going away, probably for a considerable time.'

'Away!—when?—where?'

'To-morrow morning, for Ireland.'

'Ireland! of all places,' cried Lady Clonbrony. 'What upon earth puts it
into your head to go to Ireland? You do very well to go out of the way
of falling in love ridiculously, since that is the reason of your going;
but what put Ireland into your head, child?'

'I will not presume to ask my mother what put Ireland out of her head,'
said Lord Colambre, smiling; 'but she will recollect that it is my
native country.'

'That was your father's fault, not mine,' said Lady Clonbrony; 'for I
wished to have been confined in England; but he would have it to say
that his son and heir was born at Clonbrony Castle—and there was a
great argument between him and my uncle, and something about the Prince
of Wales and Caernarvon Castle was thrown in, and that turned the
scale, much against my will; for it was my wish that my son should be
an Englishman born—like myself. But, after all, I don't see that having
the misfortune to be born in a country should tie one to it in any sort
of way; and I should have hoped your English EDICATION, Colambre, would
have given you too liberal IDEARS for that—so I REELLY don't see why
you should go to Ireland merely because it's your native country.'

'Not merely because it is my native country; but I wish to go thither—I
desire to become acquainted with it—because it is the country in which
my father's property lies, and from which we draw our subsistence.'

'Subsistence! Lord bless me, what a word! fitter for a pauper than a
nobleman-subsistence! Then, if you are going to look after your father's
property, I hope you will make the agents do their duty, and send us
remittances. And pray how long do you mean to stay?'

'Till I am of age, madam, if you have no objection. I will spend the
ensuing months in travelling in Ireland; and I will return here by the
time I am of age, unless you and my father should, before that time, be
in Ireland.'

'Not the least chance of that, if I can prevent it, I promise you,' said
Lady Clonbrony.

Lord Colambre and Miss Nugent sighed.

'And I am sure I shall take it very unkindly of you, Colambre, if you go
and turn out a partisan for Ireland, after all, like Grace Nugent.'

'A partisan! no;—I hope not a partisan, but a friend,' said Miss
Nugent.

'Nonsense, child!—I hate to hear people, women especially, and young
ladies particularly, talk of being friends to this country or that
country. What can they know about countries? Better think of being
friends to themselves, and friends to their friends.'

'I was wrong,' said Miss Nugent, 'to call myself a friend to Ireland; I
meant to say, that Ireland had been a friend to me; that I found Irish
friends, when I had no other; an Irish home, when I had no other; that
my earliest and happiest years, under your kind care, had been spent
there; and that I can never forget THAT my dear aunt—I hope you do not
wish that I should.'

'Heaven forbid, my sweet Grace!' said Lady Clonbrony, touched by her
voice and manner—'Heaven forbid! I don't wish you to do or be anything
but what you are; for I am convinced there's nothing I could ask you
would not do for me; and, I can tell you, there's few things you could
ask, love, I would not do for you.'

A wish was instantly expressed in the eyes of her niece.

Lady Clonbrony, though not usually quick at interpreting the wishes of
others, understood and answered, before she ventured to make her request
in words.

'Ask anything but THAT, Grace. Return to Clonbrony, while I am able to
live in London? That I never can or will do for you or anybody!' looking
at her son in all the pride of obstinacy; 'so there is an end of the
matter. Go you where you please, Colambre; and I shall stay where I
please:—I suppose, as your mother, I have a right to say this much?'

Her son, with the utmost respect, assured her that he had no design to
infringe upon her undoubted liberty of judging for herself; that he
had never interfered, except so far as to tell her circumstances of her
affairs, with which she seemed to be totally unacquainted, and of which
it might be dangerous to her to continue in ignorance.

'Don't talk to me about affairs,' cried she, drawing her hand away from
her son. 'Talk to my lord, or my lord's agents, since you are going to
Ireland, about business—I know nothing about business; but this I know,
I shall stay in England, and be in London, every season, as long as I
can afford it; and when I cannot afford to live here, I hope I shall not
live anywhere. That's my notion of life; and that's my determination,
once for all; for, if none of the rest of the Clonbrony family have any,
I thank Heaven I have some spirit.' Saying this, with her most stately
manner she walked out of the room. Lord Colambre instantly followed her;
for, after the resolution and the promise he had made, he did not dare
to trust himself at this moment with Miss Nugent.

There was to be a concert this night at Lady Clonbrony's, at which Mrs.
and Miss Broadhurst were, of course, expected. That they might not
be quite unprepared for the event of her son's going to Ireland, Lady
Clonbrony wrote a note to Mrs. Broadhurst, begging her to come half an
hour earlier than the time mentioned in the cards, 'that she might talk
over something PARTICULAR that had just occurred.'

What passed at this cabinet council, as it seems to have had no
immediate influence on affairs, we need not record. Suffice it to
observe, that a great deal was said, and nothing done. Miss Broadhurst,
however, was not a young lady who could be easily deceived, even where
her passions were concerned. The moment her mother told her of Lord
Colambre's intended departure, she saw the whole truth. She had a
strong mind—was capable of drawing aside, at once, the curtain of
self-delusion, and looking steadily at the skeleton of truth—she had
a generous, perhaps because a strong mind; for, surrounded, as she had
been from her childhood, by every means of self-indulgence which wealth
and flattery could bestow, she had discovered early, what few persons
in her situation discover till late in life, that selfish gratifications
may render us incapable of other happiness, but can never, of
themselves, make us happy. Despising flatterers, she had determined to
make herself friends to make them in the only possible way—by deserving
them. Her father made his immense fortune by the power and habit of
constant, bold, and just calculation. The power and habit which she had
learned from him she applied on a far larger scale; with him, it was
confined to speculations for the acquisition of money; with her,
it extended to the attainment of happiness. He was calculating and
mercenary: she was estimative and generous.

Miss Nugent was dressing for the concert, or, rather, was sitting
half-dressed before her glass, reflecting, when Miss Broadhurst came
into her room. Miss Nugent immediately sent her maid out of the room.

'Grace,' said Miss Broadhurst, looking at Grace with an air of open,
deliberate composure, 'you and I are thinking of the same thing—of the
same person.'