Bath Tangle

little things—three of them, that is—are so full of the measles as never was! So Sukey stayed in London, with Emma, because there wasn’t a house to be had in Brighton, which she had a fancy for. Only it seems the Marquis don’t care for Brighton, so it was just as well, I daresay. Not that I’d ever want Emma to go and get ill with this nasty influenza that’s going about in London, which is what she did do, poor little soul! Not four days after they came back from this place, Delford, which Sukey tells me is the Marquis’s country home. Seat, she calls it, and I’m bound to say it don’t sound like a home to me. Well, it’s all according to taste, but you mark my words, my dear, when he gets to be as fat as I am—which I’m sure I hope he won’t—this Marquis will wish he hadn’t got to walk a quarter of a mile from his bedroom to get to his dinner! I shouldn’t wonder at it if that’s how poor Emma came to get ill, for she’s never been much of a one for long walks.”

“Delford is very large, but Lady Laleham exaggerates a little, ma’am,” Serena said, faintly smiling.

“You can lay your life to that, my dear! Well, the long and the short of it is that she did take ill, and very sick she must have been, because Sukey writes that the doctor says she must go out of London, on account of her being regularly knocked up, and her nerves quite upset besides.”

“I am so sorry!” Fanny said. “So Lady Laleham is to bring her on a visit to you, ma’am?”

“No!” said Mrs Floore, a smile of delight spreading over her large face. “Depend upon it, Sukey would have taken her to Jericho rather than come to me! But she’s got the influenza now, so there’s no help for it but for her to send Emma down with her maid tomorrow! She’s coming post, of course, and see if I don’t have her blooming again in a trice!”

15

Emily, when encountered a few days later, certainly bore all the appearance of a young lady lately risen from a sickbed. The delicate bloom had faded from her cheeks; she was thinner; and jumped at sudden noises. Mrs Floore ascribed her condition to the rigours of a London season, and told Serena that she could willingly box her daughter’s ears for having allowed poor little Emma to become so fagged. Serena thought the explanation reasonable, but Fanny declared that some other cause than late nights must be sought to account for the hunted look in Emily’s wide eyes. “And it is not far to seek!” she added significantly. “That wicked woman compelled her to accept Rotherham’s offer, and she is terrified of him!”

“How can you be so absurd?” said Serena impatiently. “Rotherham is not an ogre!”

But gentle Fanny for once refused to be overborne. “Yes, he is,” she asserted, “I don’t scruple to tell you, dearest, that he frightens me, and I am not seventeen!”

“I know you are never at ease with him, and a great piece of nonsense that is, Fanny! Pray, what cause has he given you to fear him?”

“Oh, none! It is just—You cannot understand, Serena, because you are not at all shy, and were never afraid of anything in your life, I suppose!”

“Certainly not of Rotherham! You should consider that if there is anything in his manner that makes you nervous he is not in love with you.”

Fanny shuddered. “Oh, that would be more terrifying than anything!” she exclaimed.

“You are being foolish beyond permission, I daresay the marriage was arranged by the Laleham woman, and that Emily is in love with Ivo I most strongly doubt; but, after all, such marriages are quite common, and often succeed to admiration. If he loves her, he will very soon teach her to return his sentiments.”

“Serena, I cannot believe that he loves her! No two persons could be less suited!”

Serena shrugged her shoulders, saying, in a hard voice: “Good God, Fanny, how many times has one seen a clever man wedded to a pretty simpleton, and wondered what could have made him choose her? Emily will not dispute with Rotherham; she will be docile; she will think him infallible—and that should suit him perfectly!”

“Him! Very likely, but what of her? If he frightens her now, what will it be when they are married?”

“Let me recommend you, Fanny, not to put yourself into high fidgets over what is nothing but conjecture! You do not know that he has frightened Emily. If she is a little nervous, depend upon it he has been making love to her. He is a man of strong passions, and she is such an innocent baby that I should not marvel at it if she had been scared. She will very soon overcome such prudery, I assure you!” She saw Fanny shake her head, and fold her lips, and said sharply: This will not do! If there was any truth in these freakish notions of yours, she need not have accepted his offer!”

Fanny looked up quickly. “Ah, you cannot know—you don’t understand, Serena!”

“Oh, you mean that she dare not disobey her mother! Well, my love, however strictly Lady Laleham may rule her, it is not in her power to force her into a disagreeable marriage. And if she is in such dread of her, she must welcome any chance to escape from her tyranny!”

Fanny gazed at her wonderingly, and then bent over her embroidery again. “I don’t think you would ever understand,” she said mournfully. “You see, dearest, you grew up under such different circumstances! You never held my lord in awe. Indeed, I was used to think you were his companion rather than his daughter, and I am persuaded neither of you had the least notion of filial obedience! It quite astonished me to hear how he would consult you, and how boldly you maintained your own opinions—and went your own way! I should never have dared to have talked so to my parents, you know. Habits of strict obedience, I think, are not readily overcome. It seems impossible to you that Lady Laleham could force Emily into a distasteful marriage, but it is not impossible. To some girls—to most girls, indeed—the thought of setting up one’s own will does not even occur.”

“You encourage me to think that Emily will be the very wife for Rotherham!” Serena replied. “And if you imagine, my dear, that he will give her any reason to be afraid of him, you are doing him an injustice. Though his manners are not conciliatory, he is, I must remind you, a gentleman!”

No more was said; nor did Emily, walking with Serena in the Sydney Gardens, appear to regret her engagement. In the intervals of exclaiming rapturously at the various amenities of this miniature Vauxhall, she chattered about the parties she had been to in London, and seemed to be full of such items of information as that the Queen had smiled at her upon her presentation, and that one of the Princesses had actually spoken to her.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Serena asked.

“Oh, yes, indeed! And we went several times to Vauxhall Gardens, and to the theatre, and a Review in Hyde Park, and Almack’s—oh, I am sure we must have been to everything!” Emily declared.

“No wonder you became so worn out!”

“No, for I am not quite accustomed to so many parties. When one is tired, one doesn’t care for anything very much, and—and one gets into stupid humours—Mama says. And I had influenza. Have you ever had it, Lady Serena? It is the horridest thing, for it makes you excessively miserable, so that the least thing makes you cry. But Mama was very kind to me, and she let me come to stay with Grandmama, and, oh, it is so comfortable!”

“I hope you are making a long stay with her?”

At this, the frightened look returned. Emma stammered: “Oh, I wish—I don’t know—Mama said ...”

“Your Mama will be thinking of your bride-clothes soon, no doubt,” Serena said lightly.

“Yes. I mean—Oh, not yet!”

“When is the wedding date to be?”

“I—we—it is not decided! Lord Rotherham spoke of September, but—but I would like not to be married until I am eighteen! I shall be eighteen in November, you know, and I shall know how to go on better, don’t you think?”

“What, because you are eighteen?” Serena laughed. “Will it make such a difference to you?”

“I don’t know. It is only that I seem not to know the things I should, to be a Marchioness, and I think I should try to learn how to be a great lady, and—and if I am not married till November perhaps I may do so.”

“I cannot suppose that Lord Rotherham desires you to be in any way other than you are now, my dear Emily.”

There was no reply to this. Glancing at her, Serena saw that Emily was deeply flushed, her eyes downcast. She said, after a pause: “Do you expect to see Lord Rotherham in Bath?”