But wiped them soon.
In fact, before she had been gone a week, I found consolation in the arms and charms of the enchanting Mrs H-. She was extremely beautiful, but had one defect — her teeth were bad, and when she opened her mouth she spoilt her face, yet I used to say of her that 'she was pretty in spite of her teeth'. And many others thought so too. Her husband was a 'prig', and an old woman to boot. He was a great poultry fancier, so while he disported himself with his cocks and hens, I made love to his wife.
She had a brilliant complexion — a lovely white and red — her hair was black, her eyes hazel; she was of a nature to feel passion, and of an age to declare it — in fine, she was piquant. But all her charms were lost on her sposo; he was a little plain mean-looking fellow, with a squeaky voice, and looked like a eunuch! Heaven only knows if he was one; to add to his defects, he was a 'Newlight', as the would-be saints of those days were called. I never knew a more contemptible creature; he stood in some awe of his handsome wife, who took care to have her own way.
As I did not admire bad teeth, I would only poke this woman in one way, and that was en levrette. She made great opposition at first, but soon got to like it, especially as I said to her, 'My love, in this attitude you gain an inch.' She had the most splendid back, and her hips and nether hemispheres were superb; her breasts, however, were not perfect, and not so firm as I could wish. At the end of three months we tired of each other and parted; I returned to the native girls, while she threw herself into the arms of Lieutenant W- of the — th N.I.
After I had been ten years in India, I took my furlough and returned to England. I had been very fortunate in the number of deaths that had occurred among the officers of my regiment, and found myself a captain at six-and- twenty, a rare thing in the company's service. I had quite resolved to lead a bachelor life. But my excellent mother, luck, Providence, or what you will — decreed otherwise.
My mother had been plotting and making up a match for me before my arrival. The lady was a reputed heiress with an estate of twenty-five thousand pounds; an only child, her parents declared that they could not let her go out to India — so my resignation of the service was made a sine qua non; how I could have been so besotted as to comply with this absurd condition, I know not; but so it was that having ascertained that the estate really existed, and finding the young lady had considerable personal attractions and seemed inclined to like me, I yielded in an unhappy hour to the solicitations of my mother. We were married.
After the ceremony we started in a carriage and four for Dover en route for Paris, and at that gay capital we passed the winter of 1844; we spent about fifteen hundred pounds in the five months we were there, the money being supplied by her mother from time to time. All this was very well, yet strange to say I grew very discontented; my wife was exceedingly jealous, so that whenever I even looked at a pretty face, I was treated with a pout, or a fit of the sulks, or with tears, which made her eyes red, and spoiled their expression. I began to long for the freedom I formerly enjoyed; and I found, too late, that fetters may be irksome, even if made of gold.
My temper soured, I was ennuie, hipped and miserable. We returned to England; there a new annoyance awaited me; that dear mother-in-law of mine told me we had been very extravagant and must retrench; that she had taken and furnished for us a pretty cottage in Devonshire, and that in future her daughter's allowance would be four hundred a year. I was furious, and gave vent to my wrath in no measured terms; my wife took her mother's part. Upon this extra aggravation I told them that they might both go and live at their pretty cottage for aught I cared, or go together to the devil; but as for me, with all my friends in town, and me the darling of the ladies — go, I would not. There was, of course, a regular row; the two mammas-in-law quarrelled.
Then came recriminations; each old lady accused the other of plotting and match-making, and to make an end of a long story, my wife went home with her mother. I accepted one with mine, and returned with her to Bruton Street. I never spoke a word till I found myself tete-a-tete with my mother that evening after dinner.
'My dear son,' said she, 'I am sorry to see you so much concerned; those people have behaved shamefully!'
'Mother, you have married me with a vengeance!'
'My dear child,' cried the old lady, 'do pray consider I did it all for the best, the girl seemed such a sweet creature, and so young too, scarcely seventeen, and you know the estate exists; how unhappy I am!'
'My dear mother, you have simply ruined me, that's all! Only ruined me. I had got my captaincy, my pay was pretty good, and with the hundred and fifty pounds a year Uncle Charles left me I did very well. I was not in debt. I enjoyed life. But now with respect to this precious estate of theirs … My solicitor has been down to D- Hall, and made some enquiries on the spot; subsequently he has made some enquiries in town; the estate turns out to be heavily mortgaged, the trees have been felled in the park, and the old man will soon be 'up country', as we used to say in India. The estate is not entailed, and, in short, you have married me to a pauper in fact! with her eight quarterings, and an escutcheon of pretence in the centre. Bravo! clever mother!'
'My dear, dear son, you astonish, you shock me beyond expression! and is it so bad then, and will your wife have nothing?'
'Next to it,' said I, 'she has a hundred a year she inherited from her grandmother, and she may get another hundred out of the wreck of her father's property, that is, if he does not mortgage every acre before he dies, the brute!'
I did not see my wife for two years, during which I had a dear girl in keeping, at a little suburban villa, and occasionally diversified my amusements by an amour of a more recherche character, and was beginning to feel tolerably contented again, when one morning there came a very peremptory letter from my father-in-law.
After reproaching me with neglecting his daughter, he went on to say that he was somewhat embarrassed in his affairs, and could no longer afford to keep her, and added that unless I at once took her back, or made some suitable provision for her, he should put the matter in the hands of his solicitor. 'Pooh!' said I, and I tossed the letter into the fire with the greatest contempt. But there was another letter, I recognised the handwriting, it was from my wife. It was couched in terms so humble, so affectionate, so everything that the most exacting of men could require, that, deceived by it, I relented.
My mother wrote to her; she joined us in Bruton Street; I gave up my suburban villa and my fair friend, and tried to hope we might yet be happy. For the first month all went well, but unhappily, among my mother's servants was a little parlour maid, a sweet pretty creature, the daughter of a tradesman. She had received a pretty good education, and was not at all like a servant, either in manners or appearance. I had seduced this girl, though she was but fourteen, before my wife came up to town, and the difficulty was how to carry on the amour after her arrival without being discovered.
Little Emma cried bitterly when she heard who was coming, and from the first I saw the two girls took a mortal dislike to each other, yet all went well for a month. At the end of which time, unfortunately my mother was obliged to go into the country to see a relative who was ill.
No sooner was she gone than my wife betrayed a jealousy and a vigilance of Emma that almost debarred me from ever even speaking to the dear little girl. So I had recourse to the pen, and wrote Emma a long letter, enclosing a five-pound note and assuring her that my wife, who was very religious (God save the mark!), would certainly go to church the following Sunday, and that then we should get a chance. This note, by the aid of honest John my mother's footman, and half a sov., I managed to get conveyed to her.
I woke up with a (pretended) severe headache, and declared I felt too ill to get up. My wife was all obsequiousness and attention, and herself brought up my breakfast (I knew quite well why).
She even offered to stay at home and read the church service to me, and a sermon! But I affectionately declined, and begged she would not remain away from church on my account. So to church she went.
When the bells had done ringing, I rang the bell. To my surprise John appeared.
'Hullo, John! where's Emma?'
'Now, Master Edward, you are too bad, indeed you be!'
'Damn it, man alive! where is she?' and I gave the poor old fellow, who had known me from a child, one of my fierce looks.
'Gone to church, sir.'
'Gone to church! by whose orders?'
'Mrs S-, sir.'
'The deuce!' and I looked so wretched, that honest John took compassion on me.
'Mrs S- watched her out of the house, sir; but Emma's a clever girl, she'll be back directly, now the bells have done.'
'My dear old John, you restore me to life,' and jumping out of bed, I hugged the old man in my arms.
