Friendship and Folly: The Merriweather Chronicles Book I (11 page)

Though her speech appears sharp enough when inscribed upon paper, the regretful tone in which it was uttered effectually robbed it of all asperity, and rendered it a mere rueful assessment. That it was so, may be attributed to her many dances with Sir Warrington, which had done more than ruin the toes of no less than three pairs of slippers--they had also served to soften her opinion of his brother to such an extent, that had Mr. Lenox shown the least inclination to forgive her for being the baronet’s choice, Ann was tolerably convinced, that her friend would have smiled on his overtures, and probably even have granted him that dance which he had rejected with such alacrity at their initial meeting. Upon Ann’s asking what had become of her declaration that “nothing disposed her to dislike a person more than hearing them continually praised,” Julia merely laughed, and said in mock reproach, that it was not the part of a friend, “to scrape up the stupid things one may have said in the past. A poor memory, Ann--or faulty hearing--that is what is to be desired in such situations.

“Besides,” continued she, after a moment, and more seriously, “I have learned to be grateful to the man. Five minutes under his dismissive eye taught me more of myself than five weeks of flattery and nonsense. I had grown so used to consorting with those who expressed delight at every thing I said and did, that I was in real danger of believing it to be some virtue in myself, that made it so, instead of its being largely the result, of a combination of A’s--Ancestors, Affluence, and Appearance; three things which are mine, through no will or exertion of my own. Do you recall how you said at the time, that Sir Warrington presented me as if I had been a jeweled treasure, fit for a monarch? To Mr. Lenox I was no more than a ‘twinkling, tiny lustre’ fated to drop ‘from Fame’s neglecting hand’, and his eye said as much. Do not frown so, Ann! His look was not kind, nor even civil--but it was entirely honest. I am a shiny bauble, making a fine show for a brief time, but inevitably to be discarded with the advent of some newer, brighter trinket. In ten years I shall wear a cap; in twenty, I shall be wrinkling around the edges and contemplating grandchildren, and unless I marry someone of enormous distinction, or create--Heaven forbid!--an enormous scandal, the world will have forgotten me. And even if for some reason I
should
achieve enough fame to linger in the minds of future generations, the only consequence will be, that far too many people will write biographies and histories in which I am mentioned in terms of such hideous inaccuracy, as would provoke me to either laughter or fury, were I not safely beyond all vexation at the misrepresentation of my character. This is Vanity Fair, that intoxicating celebration, whose chief end is to glorify Things That Do Not Matter, and regret it forever. Mr. Lenox reminded me of it, and for that, at least, I must always be grateful to him.”

As Ann could not feel that the gentleman deserved quite this degree of forbearance--certainly, he did not deserve gratitude for a favor unwittingly done--she was pleased enough to think that his own fears and envyings must prevent him from ever providing an occasion where he might enjoy it; and for some time consoled her still-piqued spirit by picturing that cool young man setting himself to repel the “menacing advances” of an altogether charitably disposed bush.

**

My reader may be forgiven for supposing, from the number of pages already given over to them in this narrative, that from their very first acquaintance with them, the family of Lenox engrossed a large portion of the Parrys’ thoughts; but this is to forget the inevitable disproportioning of events, which is caused by the prescience (or hindsight) of a biographer. They did indeed pity Sir Warrington, and regret very much the situation in which he found himself; but it is not reasonable to presume that they had nothing else to do than sigh over the afflictions and fancies of one feeble-witted baronet.

And so again, exercising the prerogative of my authorship, I pass silently over many days and nights full of conversation and dancing and incident, to seize upon the one happening, which, but for its occurrence, would almost certainly have seen the brothers Lenox fading, with the ending of the season, entirely from the lives, and to a great extent from the memories, of my heroine and her family.

It began in a most innocent fashion indeed, with a note sent round by Lady Thomasin, to inquire if any of her young relations wished to accompany her to hear “that young Mr. Davy” speak on the Chemical History of the Earth the following day. Now Kitty was excessively fond of lectures, (it was Mr. Parry’s suggestion that this was due to the circumstance that, while it was in progress, she was for once assured that the attention of every one around her, would be completely fixed on an object some distance from herself), but a prior acceptation of one of her great-aunt’s invitations had left her as adamant as her nature would allow, against accepting another, when that lady was to be her sole companion. I do not mean to decry Lady Thomasin, who was in many respects an admirable woman; but she was sadly unused to taking thought for any person of less independent spirit than herself, and the consequence was, that during that previous outing she had unwittingly subjected Kitty to a horrific ordeal, which the slightest care might have prevented.

The two had been making their egress from the hall, when Kitty had discovered the absence of her reticule, and immediately exclaiming over it, had implored her great-aunt to wait for but a moment while she returned to search for it. Scarcely had she taken a step, however, than she was confronted by the sight of her reticule, clasped in a unfamiliar hand of unmistakable masculinity, and being offered to her with the daunting words: “I beg your pardon, but I believe this may belong to you.”

This was frightful enough, but having received it with wisps of thanks, upon turning about, she found that Lady Thomasin, her ear being unaccustomed to her great-niece’s quiet tones, had pursued her outward path, unheeding, and was nowhere to be seen by someone of Kitty’s stature. But even this was not the crowning terror: no, that was to be laid entirely at the door of the same gentleman who had so thoughtlessly delivered up her errant property. He seemed to have no qualms about further exposing the reprehensibility of his character, and not only stood his ground, but being witness to her obvious distress, inquired, after a moment, if she sought the lady with whom she had been seated. Upon receiving some faint and agitated species of affirmation, he cast his eyes about, and soon espying Lady Thomasin over the heads of the crowd, without so much as a by-your-leave he escorted Kitty through the throng to where her ladyship stood near the door, gazing impatiently about her. At this point he somewhat redeemed himself by displaying no further interest in Kitty’s welfare, and taking himself off at once; but she was not to be so easily conciliated. She retained no impression of the physiognomy of this officious gentleman, but the memory of that brief moment of dependence upon an unfamiliar waistcoat was sufficient to keep her from venturing forth from Merrion House, without the reassuring presence of at least one other of its inhabitants.

Clive was, perhaps, her companion of choice for such affairs, but on this occasion he was already engaged to go calling on Lord Barham with Mr. Parry on the morrow (“Oh, Kitty, I am sorry, but I cannot. Do you not realize the Honor of being allowed to go with Father? I do not care if Ali Pasha is to speak on the virtues of Pacifism: this is
Lord Barham
”); and Lady Frances and Julia having obligations to a distant relation who had come to town and was expected to call, it was Ann whose profession of interest unhappily persuaded Kitty of the safety of expanding her knowledge of Geology.

The lecture may have been of surpassing brilliance and lucidity; no doubt it was. But no recollection of its merits survived in the minds of either Kitty or Ann, for the disaster which overtook them at its conclusion drove all before it, like an ill-wind that scatters, in an instant, the heaps of leaves whose painstaking compilation consumed all the morning hours.

Ann was the first to catch sight of the impending disaster, and despite the panic which instantly seized upon her, she retained enough presence of mind to try to avert its descent, by turning her face away, and slipping quickly around her companions, to mince along shrinkingly in the shadow of Lady Thomasin’s abundant figure: but all for naught. The Disaster, having eyes, used them; and a voice as well.

“Why, if it is not Cousin Ann!” it cried. “Girls, look, it is your dear Cousin Ann! How delightful to see her again so soon! And to think that you did not even wish to come today!”

Ann perceived that she had no choice but to emerge, and make the presentations with as good a grace as could be managed. Lady Thomasin, knowing nothing of the Robinsons, and being always pleased to extend the number of her auditors, saw no reason to fling a few civilities and then rush off as speedily as the crush would allow. Instead, coming to a halt which much incensed those who were striving to achieve the door in her wake, she was as much prepared to converse at length, as if she were in her own drawing-room.

Mrs. Robinson was all cordiality. The unequalled bliss of meeting more of Cousin Ann’s dear friends, was the only thing that could possibly have exceeded their enchantment with this charming lecture; Barbara and Georgina had been quite transported with it, and had said over and over again, what a pity it was that Cousin Ann and her delightful friends were not present to hear it as well: and now, behold, here they were after all!

The shock of this unexpected fulfillment of their most ardent wish was so great, that Miss Robinson and Miss Georgina were rendered speechless by it; and being, apparently, quite unable to find words in which to adequately express their pleasure, they made do with looking about them in a disinterested fashion, as if wondering when their mother would be done talking, and allow them to move on.

Lady Thomasin said every thing that was unexceptionable, and then took command of the talk for a time, to speak with long-flowing relish of certain interesting facts interpreted (most inaccurately, so she claimed) by Mr. Davy, giving Ann an opportunity to deduce, that if Mrs. Robinson had actually attended to the lecture at the time, she had successfully cleared its contents from her mind the moment it was over. She was not one, however, to allow her complete ignorance of a subject to deter her from expressing hearty concurrence whenever a pause allowed it, and Ann could only respect the neat fashion in which her cousin eventually ran Lady Thomasin aground, by demanding of Kitty, if she did not think her aunt a very clever woman. And when Kitty, quite horrified at being singled out in this manner, breathed her faltering assent between rapid changes of color, Mrs. Robinson was not slow to grasp the opportunity offered, but smiled and said, “She knew just how the young lady felt, having been shy herself at one time! One grew out of it, of course, but really, she thought it almost a pity--there was something so very engaging about timidity when it was attached to a pretty young girl! Did not Lady Thomasin agree?”

It is not to be supposed that Lady Thomasin’s forthright, gregarious spirit felt any real degree of sympathy with Kitty’s timid ways, but she allowed rather grudgingly that she did--if it were not taken to excess--adding, more robustly, that she had always thought it a great piece of folly for “shy, ignorant young misses” to be suddenly thrust from the schoolroom, when they were “no more fitted to carry on a sequential conversation than the nursery parrot.”

Mrs. Robinson could hardly contain her gratification. Their ideas coincided so exactly! It was quite marvelous! She appealed to her daughters for confirmation, but fortunately did not wait for them to provide it before she hastened to expound her meaning: Barbara and Georgina were so excessively shy, that she could hardly convince them to say a word for themselves, even before Family! (Those two young ladies, hearing themselves so described in accents whose mild indulgence rendered it more a commendation than a complaint, eyed their hands, and looked obligingly bashful.) All example and encouragement, continued their mother, had been in vain! They remained unremittingly modest! She was at a loss. Could she, as a loving parent, bring herself to force them out into the hurly-burly of Society when the time came, knowing as she did that such a course of action must cause their gentle, unworldly spirits untold anguish? She had almost resolved that it could not be, and that all her fond hopes in that direction must be abandoned, when her dear friend Mrs. M_____, with whom she shared her despair, had conceived a scheme whereby timid young ladies might be enabled to, as it were, dabble their feet in the shallows of society, in calm, protective surroundings, which would obviate any fear they might have of plunging in over their heads!

Lady Thomasin was civil enough to ask for particulars of this splendid scheme, and receive a rhapsodic depiction of select gatherings at which desperate families of ton, afflicted with impossibly shy daughters, assembled together in a series of informal Music Parties, fashioned after those for which Mrs. Crewe was so justly noted, in the hope that a regular exposure to strangers might bring them some relief from the more violent symptoms, while simultaneously informing their musical taste. Her exposition of the benefits derived from these gatherings was somewhat marred by her eventual admission that the first one had yet to take place, and was indeed scheduled for the coming Tuesday. A small concert was to be held at the large and elegant home of the ingenious Mrs. M_____, and the entire Robinson family was, of course, to be present.

It was upon the utterance of these last words that Mrs. Robinson was suddenly inspired to a consummate piece of officiousness, and exclaimed that she had just had the most famous notion! Would it not be wonderful if Miss Kitty were to make up one of their party? Would she not like that?

There can be no doubt, that Kitty would infinitely have preferred immediate death surrounded by flaming faggots; but even as some have infirmities which prevent them from walking, so Kitty gave every indication of having at some point contracted a wasting disease of the will, by which she was made unable to refuse a direct invitation, no matter how distasteful it might be: the word “no” need never have been invented, for all the use she made of it. The best she could do, was to whisper that “she did not know---her parents--” and direct a number of frightened glances toward her great-aunt, as if pleading for that intrepid lady to deliver her from the situation in which she had become so innocently entangled. But Lady Thomasin, lacking the imagination necessary for true sympathy with one so entirely dissimilar, remained amiably obtuse, waiting for Kitty to select her own fate.

Mrs. Robinson was too entranced by her benevolent designs to notice the acute wretchedness which they had produced, and she chattered on in reply to Kitty’s feeble equivocations, assuring her that every member of the family was welcome to come--an invitation she felt perfectly at liberty to extend, as she had been so closely concerned in the affair’s inception, that she was almost as much its hostess as Mrs. M_____, to whom, in any event, she was practically a sister. Ann could not help wondering if these last assertions contained any more truth than the one regarding the shyness of the Miss Robinsons; but Kitty, revived by the thought that, if go she must, it need not be alone, was at last betrayed by them into a disjointed, halfway definitive sentence, which might conceivably have been construed to mean that she would come if she could.

Ann fell to estimating how long it would take her cousin to persuade herself, that Kitty had begged to be allowed to join them.

**