Lady Susan by Jane Austen (phonics books .txt) 📖

>XVl

 

LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON

 

Churchhill.

 

Never, my dearest Alicia, was I so provoked in my life as by a letter

this morning from Miss Summers. That horrid girl of mine has been trying to

run away. I had not a notion of her being such a little devil before, she

seemed to have all the Vernon milkiness; but on receiving the letter in

which I declared my intention about Sir James, she actually attempted to

elope; at least, I cannot otherwise account for her doing it. She meant, I

suppose, to go to the Clarkes in Staffordshire, for she has no other

acquaintances. But she shall be punished, she shall have him. I have sent

Charles to town to make matters up if he can, for I do not by any means

want her here. If Miss Summers will not keep her, you must find me out

another school, unless we can get her married immediately. Miss S. writes

word that she could not get the young lady to assign any cause for her

extraordinary conduct, which confirms me in my own previous explanation of

it, Frederica is too shy, I think, and too much in awe of me to tell tales,

but if the mildness of her uncle should get anything out of her, I am not

afraid. I trust I shall be able to make my story as good as hers. If I am

vain of anything, it is of my eloquence. Consideration and esteem as

surely follow command of language as admiration waits on beauty, and here I

have opportunity enough for the exercise of my talent, as the chief of my

time is spent in conversation.

 

Reginald is never easy unless we are by ourselves, and when the weather

is tolerable, we pace the shrubbery for hours together. I like him on the

whole very well; he is clever and has a good deal to say, but he is

sometimes impertinent and troublesome. There is a sort of ridiculous

delicacy about him which requires the fullest explanation of whatever he

may have heard to my disadvantage, and is never satisfied till he thinks he

has ascertained the beginning and end of everything. This is one sort of

love, but I confess it does not particularly recommend itself to me. I

infinitely prefer the tender and liberal spirit of Mainwaring, which,

impressed with the deepest conviction of my merit, is satisfied that

whatever I do must be right; and look with a degree of contempt on the

inquisitive and doubtful fancies of that heart which seems always debating

on the reasonableness of its emotions. Mainwaring is indeed, beyond all

compare, superior to Reginald—superior in everything but the power of

being with me! Poor fellow! he is much distracted by jealousy, which I am

not sorry for, as I know no better support of love. He has been teazing me

to allow of his coming into this country, and lodging somewhere near

INCOG.; but I forbade everything of the kind. Those women are inexcusable

who forget what is due to themselves, and the opinion of the world.

 

Yours ever,

S. VERNON.

XVII

MRS. VERNON TO LADY DE COURCY

 

Churchhill.

 

My dear Mother,—Mr. Vernon returned on Thursday night, bringing his

niece with him. Lady Susan had received a line from him by that day’s post,

informing her that Miss Summers had absolutely refused to allow of Miss

Vernon’s continuance in her academy; we were therefore prepared for her

arrival, and expected them impatiently the whole evening. They came while

we were at tea, and I never saw any creature look so frightened as

Frederica when she entered the room. Lady Susan, who had been shedding

tears before, and showing great agitation at the idea of the meeting,

received her with perfect self-command, and without betraying the least

tenderness of spirit. She hardly spoke to her, and on Frederica’s bursting

into tears as soon as we were seated, took her out of the room, and did not

return for some time. When she did, her eyes looked very red and she was as

much agitated as before. We saw no more of her daughter. Poor Reginald was

beyond measure concerned to see his fair friend in such distress, and

watched her with so much tender solicitude, that I, who occasionally caught

her observing his countenance with exultation, was quite out of patience.

This pathetic representation lasted the whole evening, and so ostentatious

and artful a display has entirely convinced me that she did in fact feel

nothing. I am more angry with her than ever since I have seen her daughter;

the poor girl looks so unhappy that my heart aches for her. Lady Susan is

surely too severe, for Frederica does not seem to have the sort of temper

to make severity necessary. She looks perfectly timid, dejected, and

penitent. She is very pretty, though not so handsome as her mother, nor at

all like her. Her complexion is delicate, but neither so fair nor so

blooming as Lady Susan’s, and she has quite the Vernon cast of countenance,

the oval face and mild dark eyes, and there is peculiar sweetness in her

look when she speaks either to her uncle or me, for as we behave kindly to

her we have of course engaged her gratitude.

 

Her mother has insinuated that her temper is intractable, but I never

saw a face less indicative of any evil disposition than hers; and from what

I can see of the behaviour of each to the other, the invariable severity of

Lady Susan and the silent dejection of Frederica, I am led to believe as

heretofore that the former has no real love for her daughter, and has never

done her justice or treated her affectionately. I have not been able to

have any conversation with my niece; she is shy, and I think I can see that

some pains are taken to prevent her being much with me. Nothing

satisfactory transpires as to her reason for running away. Her kind-hearted

uncle, you may be sure, was too fearful of distressing her to ask many

questions as they travelled. I wish it had been possible for me to fetch

her instead of him. I think I should have discovered the truth in the

course of a thirty-mile journey. The small pianoforte has been removed

within these few days, at Lady Susan’s request, into her dressing-room, and

Frederica spends great part of the day there, practising as it is called;

but I seldom hear any noise when I pass that way; what she does with

herself there I do not know. There are plenty of books, but it is not every

girl who has been running wild the first fifteen years of her life, that

can or will read. Poor creature! the prospect from her window is not very

instructive, for that room overlooks the lawn, you know, with the shrubbery

on one side, where she may see her mother walking for an hour together in

earnest conversation with Reginald. A girl of Frederica’s age must be

childish indeed, if such things do not strike her. Is it not inexcusable to

give such an example to a daughter? Yet Reginald still thinks Lady Susan

the best of mothers, and still condemns Frederica as a worthless girl! He

is convinced that her attempt to run away proceeded from no justifiable

cause, and had no provocation. I am sure I cannot say that it HAD, but

while Miss Summers declares that Miss Vernon showed no signs of obstinacy

or perverseness during her whole stay in Wigmore Street, till she was

detected in this scheme, I cannot so readily credit what Lady Susan has

made him, and wants to make me believe, that it was merely an impatience of

restraint and a desire of escaping from the tuition of masters which

brought on the plan of an elopement. O Reginald, how is your judgment

enslaved! He scarcely dares even allow her to be handsome, and when I

speak of her beauty, replies only that her eyes have no brilliancy!

Sometimes he is sure she is deficient in understanding, and at others that

her temper only is in fault. In short, when a person is always to deceive,

it is impossible to be consistent. Lady Susan finds it necessary that

Frederica should be to blame, and probably has sometimes judged it

expedient to *excuse her of ill-nature and sometimes to lament her want of

sense. Reginald is only repeating after her ladyship.

 

I remain, &c., &c.,

 

CATHERINE VERNON.

XVIII

FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME

 

Churchhill.

 

My dear Mother,—I am very glad to find that my description of Frederica

Vernon has interested you, for I do believe her truly deserving of your

regard; and when I have communicated a notion which has recently struck me,

your kind impressions in her favour will, I am sure, be heightened. I

cannot help fancying that she is growing partial to my brother. I so very

often see her eyes fixed on his face with a remarkable expression of

pensive admiration. He is certainly very handsome; and yet more, there is

an openness in his manner that must be highly prepossessing, and I am sure

she feels it so. Thoughtful and pensive in general, her countenance always

brightens into a smile when Reginald says anything amusing; and, let the

subject be ever so serious that he may be conversing on, I am much mistaken

if a syllable of his uttering escapes her. I want to make him sensible of

all this, for we know the power of gratitude on such a heart as his; and

could Frederica’s artless affection detach him from her mother, we might

bless the day which brought her to Churchhill. I think, my dear mother, you

would not disapprove of her as a daughter. She is extremely young, to be

sure, has had a wretched education, and a dreadful example of levity in her

mother; but yet I can pronounce her disposition to be excellent, and her

natural abilities very good. Though totally without accomplishments, she is

by no means so ignorant as one might expect to find her, being fond of

books and spending the chief of her time in reading. Her mother leaves her

more to herself than she did, and I have her with me as much as possible,

and have taken great pains to overcome her timidity. We are very good

friends, and though she never opens her lips before her mother, she talks

enough when alone with me to make it clear that, if properly treated by

Lady Susan, she would always appear to much greater advantage. There cannot

be a more gentle, affectionate heart; or more obliging manners, when acting

without restraint; and her little cousins are all very fond of her.

 

Your affectionate daughter,

 

C. VERNON

XIX

LADY SUSAN TO MRS. JOHNSON

 

Churchhill.

 

You will be eager, I know, to hear something further of Frederica, and

perhaps may think me negligent for not writing before. She arrived with her

uncle last Thursday fortnight, when, of course, I lost no time in demanding

the cause of her behaviour; and soon found myself to have been perfectly

right in attributing it to my own letter. The prospect of it frightened her

so thoroughly, that, with a mixture of true girlish perverseness and folly,

she resolved on getting out of the house and proceeding directly by the

stage to her friends, the Clarkes; and had really got as far as the length

of two streets in her journey when she was fortunately missed, pursued, and

overtaken. Such was the first distinguished exploit of Miss Frederica

Vernon; and, if we consider that it was achieved at the tender age of

sixteen, we shall have room for the most flattering prognostics of her

future