Self-control: A Novel

The whole affair was now clear. Lady Pelham, finding Laura unmanageable at home, was contriving that she should meet Colonel Hargrave at a place where, being among strangers, she would find it less possible to avoid him. Mrs Bathurst too was probably a good convenient friend, who would countenance whatever measures were thought necessary. In the first burst of indignation at the discovery of her aunt's treachery, Laura thought of retracing her steps to Norwood, never more to enter the presence of her unworthy relation; but, resentment cooling at the recollection of the benefits she owed to Lady Pelham, she determined on returning to Walbourne, to announce in person her refusal to go with her aunt; conceiving this to be the most respectful way of intimating her intentions.

As soon as she returned home she retired to her chamber without seeing Lady Pelham; and immediately dispatched the following note to Mrs De Courcy. 'My dear Madam, an accident has happened which determines me against going to Derham Green. Will you think I presume too soon on your kind invitation, if I say that I shall see you to-morrow at breakfast? Or will not your benevolence rather acquire a new motive in the shelterless condition which awaits your very affectionate L.M.'

She then proceeded to make arrangements for her departure, reflecting, with tears, on the hard necessity which was about to set her at variance with the only living relation who had ever acknowledged her. She knew that Lady Pelham would be enraged at the frustration of a scheme, to accomplish which she had stooped to such artifice; and she feared that, however gentle might be the terms of her intended refusal, her aunt would consider it as unpardonable rebellion. She was, however, firmly resolved against compliance, and all that remained was to use the least irritating mode of denial.

They met at dinner. Lady Pelham in high good humour, Laura grave and thoughtful. Lady Pelham mentioned her journey; but, dreading to rouse her aunt's unwearied power's of objurgation, Laura kept silence; and her just displeasure rendering her averse to Lady Pelham's company, she contrived to spend the evening alone.

As the supper hour approached, Laura began to tremble for the contest which awaited her. She felt herself more than half inclined to withdraw from the storm, by departing without warning, and leaving Lady Pelham to discover the reason of her flight after she was beyond the reach of her fury. But she considered that such a proceeding must imply an irreconcilable breach with one to whom she owed great and substantial obligations; and would carry an appearance of ingratitude which she could not bear to incur. Summoning her courage, therefore, she resolved to brave the tempest. She determined, that whatever provocation she might endure, she would offer none but such as was unavoidable; though, at the same time, she would maintain that spirit which she had always found the most effectual check to her aunt's violence.

The supper passed in quiet; Laura unwilling to begin the attack; Lady Pelham glorying in her expected success. Her Ladyship had taken her candle, and was about to retire, before Laura durst venture on the subject. 'Good night, my dear,' said Lady Pelham. 'I fear,' replied Laura, 'I may rather say farewell, since it will be so long ere I see you again.' 'How do you mean!' inquired Lady Pelham. 'That I cannot accompany you to Mrs Bathurst's,' replied Laura; fetching, at the close of her speech, a breath longer than the speech itself. 'You won't go?' exclaimed Lady Pelham, in a voice of angry astonishment. 'Since it is your wish that I should,' returned Laura meekly, 'I am sorry that it is not in my power.' 'And pray what puts it out of your power?' cried Lady Pelham, wrath working in her countenance. 'I cannot go where I am to meet Colonel Hargrave.' For a moment Lady Pelham looked confounded, but presently recovering utterance, she began – 'So! this is your Norwood intelligence; and your charming Mrs De Courcy – your model of perfection – sets spies upon the conduct of all the neighbourhood!'

Laura reddened at this vulgar abuse of the woman on earth whom she most revered; but she had set a guard on her temper, and only answered, that it was not at Norwood she received her information. 'A fortunate, I should rather say a providential accident,' said she, 'disclosed to me the whole' – the word 'strategem' was rising to her lips, but she exchanged it for one less offensive.

'And what if Colonel Hargrave is to be there?' said Lady Pelham, her choler rising as her confusion subsided. 'I suppose, forsooth, my pretty prudish Miss cannot trust herself in the house with a man!' 'Not with Colonel Hargrave, Madam,' said Laura coolly.

Lady Pelham's rage was now strong enough to burst the restraints of Laura's habitual ascendancy. 'But I say you shall go, Miss,' cried she in a scream that mingled the fierceness of anger with the insolence of command. 'Yes I say you shall go; we shall see whether I am always to truckle to a baby-faced chit, a creature that might have died in a workhouse but for my charity.' 'Indeed, Madam,' said Laura, 'I do not forget – I never shall forget – what I owe you; nor that when I was shelterless and unprotected, you received and cherished me.' 'Then shew that you remember it, and do what I desire,' returned Lady Pelham, softened in spite of herself, by the resistless sweetness of Laura's look and manner. 'Do not, I beseech you, Madam,' said Laura, 'insist upon this proof of my gratitude. If you do, I can only thank you for your past kindness, and wish that it had been in my power to make a better return.' 'Do you dare to tell me that you will not go?' cried Lady Pelham, stamping till the room shook. 'I beg, Madam,' said Laura entreatingly, 'I beg of you not to command what I shall be compelled to refuse.' 'Refuse at your peril!' shrieked Lady Pelham, in a voice scarce articulate with passion, and grasping Laura's arm in the convulsion of her rage.

Laura had some times been the witness, but seldom the object of her aunt's transports; and while Lady Pelham stood eyeing her with a countenance 'fierce as ten furies,' she, conscious with what burning shame she would herself have shrunk from making such an exhibition, sympathetically averted her eyes as if the virago had been sensible of the same feeling. 'I say refuse at your peril!' cried Lady Pelham. – 'Why don't you speak? obstinate' – 'Because,' answered Laura with saintlike meekness, 'I can say nothing but what will offend you – I cannot go to Mrs Bathurst's.'

Angry opposition Lady Pelham might have retorted with some small remains of self-possession, but the serenity of Laura exasperating her beyond all bounds, she was so far transported as to strike her a violent blow. Without uttering a syllable, Laura took her candle and quitted the room; while Lady Pelham, herself confounded at the outrage she had committed, made no attempt to detain her.

Laura retired to her chamber, and sat quietly down to consider the state of her warfare, which she determined to conclude by letter, without exposing her person to another assault; but in a few minutes she was stormed in her citadel, and the enemy entered, conscious of mistake, but with spirit unbroken. Lady Pelham had gone too far to retract, and was too much in the wrong to recant her error; her passion, however, had somewhat exhausted itself in the intemperate exercise which she had allowed it; and though as unreasonable as ever, she was less outrageous. Advancing towards Laura with an air intended to express offended majesty (for studied dignity is generally the disguise chosen by conscious degradation), she began, 'Miss Montreville, do you, in defiance of my commands, adhere to your resolution of not visiting Mrs Bathurst?' 'Certainly, Madam;' replied Laura, provoked that Lady Pelham should expect to intimidate her by a blow; 'I have seen no reason to relinquish it.' – 'There is a reason, however,' returned Lady Pelham, elevating her chin, curling her upper lip, and giving Laura the side-glance of disdain, 'though probably it is too light to weigh with such a determined lady, and that is, that you must either prepare to attend me to-morrow, or return to that beggary from which I took you, and never more enter my presence.' 'Then, Madam,' said Laura, rising with her native mien of calm command, 'we must part; for I cannot go to Mrs Bathurst's.'

Laura's cool resistance of a threat which was expected to be all powerful, discomposed Lady Pelham's heroics. Her eyes flashing fire, and her voice sharpening to a scream, 'Perverse ungrateful wretch!' she cried, 'Get out of my sight – leave my house this instant.' 'Certainly, if you desire it, Madam,' answered Laura, with unmoved self-possession; 'but, perhaps, if you please, I had better remain here till morning. I am afraid it might give rise to unpleasant observations if it were known that I left your house at midnight.'

'I care not who knows it – I would have the world see what a viper I have fostered in my bosom. Begone, and never let me see your hypocritical face again.'

'Then I hope,' said Laura, 'your Ladyship will allow a servant to accompany me to Norwood. At this hour it would be improper for me to go alone.' 'Oh to be sure,' cried Lady Pelham, 'do go to your friend and favourite and make your complaint of all your harsh usage, and descant at large upon poor Lady Pelham's unlucky failings. No, no, I promise you, no servant of mine shall be sent on any such errand.' 'There is fine moonlight,' said Laura looking calmly from the window, 'I dare say I shall be safe enough alone.' 'You shall not go to Norwood!' cried Lady Pelham – 'I'll take care to keep you from that prying, censorious old hag. You two shan't be allowed to sit primming up your mouths, and spitting venom on all the neighbourhood.' Weary of such low abuse, Laura took her bonnet, and was leaving the room. Lady Pelham placed herself between her and the door. 'Where are you going?' she demanded, in a voice in which rage was a little mingled with dread. 'To the only shelter that England affords me,' returned Laura; 'to the only friends from whom death or distance does not sever me.' 'I shall spoil your dish of scandal for to-night, however,' said Lady Pelham, flouncing out of the room; and, slapping the door with a force that made the windows rattle, she locked it on the outside. Laura making no attempt to obtain release, quietly sat down expecting a renewal of the charge. Soon, however, all the household seemed still, and Laura having mingled with the prayer that commended herself to the care of heaven, a supplication for pardon and amendment to her aunt, retired to sound and refreshing rest.

On quitting Laura, Lady Pelham went to bed, pride and anger in her breast fiercely struggling against a sense of blame. But the darkness, the silence, the loneliness of night assuage the passions even of a termagant; and by degrees she turned from re-acting and excusing her conduct, to fretting at its probable consequences.

The courage of a virago is no more than the daring of intoxication. Wait till the paroxysms be past, and the timid hare is not more the slave of fear. Lady Pelham began to feel, though she would scarcely acknowledge it to herself, how very absurdly her contest would figure in the mouths of the gossips round Walbourne. If her niece left her house in displeasure, if a breach were known to subsist between them, was it not most likely that Laura would in her own defence relate the treatment to which she had been subjected? At all events, if she went to Norwood before a reconciliation took place, she would certainly explain her situation to Mrs De Courcy; and Lady Pelham could not brave the contempt of the woman whom she disliked and abused. Anger has been compared to a short madness, and the resemblance holds in this respect, that in both cases, a little terror is of sovereign use in restoring quiet. Lady Pelham even feared the calm displeasure of Laura, and shrunk from meeting the reproving eye of even the dependent girl whom she had persecuted and reproached and insulted. By degrees, Laura's habitual ascendancy was completely restored, perhaps with added strength for its momentary suspension; for she had rather gained in respectability by patient endurance, while Lady Pelham was somewhat humbled by a sense of misconduct. Besides, in the course of eight months residence under her roof, Laura was become necessary to her aunt. Her prudence, her good temper, her various domestic talents, were ever at hand to supply the capital defects of Lady Pelham's character. Lady Pelham could not justly be said to love any mortal, but she felt the advantages of the method and regularity which Laura had introduced into her family; Laura's beauty gratified her vanity; Laura's sweetness bore with her caprice; Laura's talents amused her solitude; and she made as near an approach as nature would permit to loving Laura. What was of more consequence, Laura was popular in the neighbourhood; her story would be no sooner told than believed; and Lady Pelham's lively imagination strongly represented to her the aggravation, commentary, and sarcasm, with which such an anecdote would be circulated.

But though these ideas floated in Lady Pelham's mind, let it not be thought that she once supposed them to be the motives of her determination to seek a reconcilement! No. Lady Pelham had explained, and disguised, and adorned her failings, till she had converted the natural shame of confession into a notion that a candid avowal atoned for any of her errors; and no sooner did she begin to think of making concessions to her niece, than the consciousness of blame was lost in inward applause of her own candour and condescension. An observing eye, therefore, would have seen more of conceit than of humility in her air, when early in the morning, she entered Laura's apartment. Laura was already dressed, and returned her aunt's salutation more coldly than she had ever formerly done, though with perfect good humour. Lady Pelham approached and took her hand; Laura did not withdraw it. 'I fear,' said Lady Pelham, 'you think I behaved very absurdly last night.' Laura looked down and said nothing. 'I am willing to own I was to blame,' continued her Ladyship, 'but people of strong feelings, you know, my dear, cannot always command themselves.' Laura was still silent. 'We must forgive and forget the failings of our friends,' proceeded her Ladyship. Laura, who dreaded that these overtures of peace only covered a projected attack, still stood speechless. 'Will you not forgive me, Laura?' said Lady Pelham coaxingly, her desire of pardon increasing, as she began to doubt of obtaining it. 'I do, Madam,' said Laura, clasping Lady Pelham's hand between her own. 'I do from my heart forgive all, and if you will permit me, I will forget all – all but that when I was an orphan, alone in the wide world, you sheltered and protected me.' 'Thank you, my good girl,' returned Lady Pelham, sealing the reconciliation with a kiss. 'I knew you would think it a duty to excuse an error arising merely from my natural warmth, and the interest I take in you – "A bad effect from a noble cause." It is a melancholy truth that those who have the advantages of a feeling heart, must share its weaknesses too.' Laura had so often listened to similar nonsense, that it had ceased to provoke a smile. 'Let us talk of this no more,' said she; 'let me rather try to persuade you not only to excuse, but to sanction the obstinacy that offended you.' 'Ah Laura,' returned Lady Pelham, smiling, 'I must not call you obstinate, but you are very firm. If I could but prevail on you to go with me only for a day or two, I should make my visit as short as you please; for now it has been all arranged I must go, and it would look so awkward to go without you!' 'If the length of your visit depend upon me,' answered Laura, waving a subject on which she was determined not to forfeit her character for firmness, 'it shall be short indeed, for I shall long to offer some reparation for all my late perverseness and disobedience.'

At another time Lady Pelham's temper would have failed her at this steady opposition of her will; but fear kept her in check. After a few very gentle expostulations, she gave up the point, and inquired whether her niece still intended to spend the time of her absence at Norwood. Laura answered that she did; and had promised to breakfast there that morning. Upon this Lady Pelham overwhelmed her with such caresses and endearments, as she intended should obliterate the remembrance of her late injurious behaviour. She extolled Laura's prudence, her sweet and forgiving disposition, her commendable reserve with strangers, and her caution in speaking of herself or of her own affairs. Unfortunately for the effect of the flattery, Laura recollected that some of these qualities had at times been the subject of Lady Pelham's severe reprehension. She had, besides, sufficient penetration to detect the motive of her Ladyship's altered language; and she strove to suppress a feeling of contempt, while she replied to her aunt's thoughts as freely as if they had been frankly spoken; assuring her that she should be far from publishing to strangers the casual vexations of her domestic life. Lady Pelham reddened, as her latent thoughts were thus seized and exposed naked to her view; but fear again proved victorious, and she redoubled her blandishments. She even had recourse to a new expedient, and for the first time made Laura an offer of money. With infinite difficulty did Laura suppress the indignation which swelled her breast. She had forgiven abuse and insult, but it was beyond endurance that her aunt should suppose that her pardon and silence might be bought. Restraining her anger, however, she positively refused the money; and bidding Lady Pelham farewell, departed, amidst pressing injunctions to remain at Norwood no longer than till her aunt returned to Walbourne; her Ladyship protesting that her own home would not be endurable for an hour without the company of her dear Laura.

Lady Pelham unwillingly set out on a journey of which the first intention had been totally defeated; but she had no alternative, since, besides having promised to visit Mrs Bathurst, she had made an appointment to meet Hargrave at the stage where she was to stop for the night, and it was now too late to give him warning of his disappointment. Even Hargrave's politeness was no match for his vexation, when he saw Lady Pelham, late in the evening, alight from her carriage, unaccompanied by Laura. He listened with impatience to her Ladyship's apology and confused explanations; and more than half resolved upon returning to – to carry on his operations there. But he too had promised to Mrs Bathurst, whom for particular reasons he wished not to disoblige. The travellers, therefore, next day pursued their journey to Derham Green, beguiling the way by joint contrivances to conquer the stubbornness of Laura.

CHAPTER XXVII

Laura had proceeded but a short way towards Norwood when she was met by De Courcy, who, with a manner the most opposite to his coldness on the preceding day, sprang forward to meet her, his countenance radiant with pleasure. Laura, delighted with the change, playfully reproached him with his caprice. Montague coloured, but defended himself with spirit; and a dialogue, more resembling flirtation than any in which Laura had ever engaged, occupied them till, as they loitered along the dark avenue of Norwood, a shade of the sentimental began to mingle with their conversation. De Courcy had that morning resolved, firmly resolved, that while Laura was his guest at Norwood, he would avoid a declaration of his sentiments. Convinced, as he now was, that he no longer had any thing to fear from the perseverance of Hargrave, he was yet far from being confident of his own success. On the contrary, he was persuaded that he had hitherto awakened in Laura no sentiment beyond friendship, and that she must become accustomed to him as a lover, before he could hope for any farther grace. He considered how embarrassing would be her situation in a house of which the master was a repulsed, perhaps a rejected, admirer; and he had determined not to hazard embittering to her a residence from which she had at present no retreat. Yet the confiding manner, the bewitching loveliness of Laura, the stillness, shade, and solitude of their path had half-beguiled him of his prudence, when, fortunately for his resolution, he saw Harriet advancing to meet her friend. Harriet's liveliness soon restored gaiety to the conversation; and the party proceeded less leisurely than before to Norwood, where Laura was received with affectionate cordiality by Mrs De Courcy.

Never had the time appeared to Laura to fly so swiftly as now. Every hour was sacred to improvement, to elegance, or to benevolence. Laura had a mind capable of intense application; and therefore could exalt relaxation into positive enjoyment. But the pleasure which a vigorous understanding takes in the exercise of its powers, was now heightened in her hours of study, by the assistance, the approbation of De Courcy; and the hours of relaxation he enlivened by a manner which, at once frank and respectful, spirited and kind, seemed peculiarly fitted to adorn the domestic circle. A part of each day was employed by Mrs De Courcy in various works of charity; and, joining in these, Laura returned with satisfaction to a habit which she had unwillingly laid aside during her residence in London, and but imperfectly resumed at Walbourne. Amiable, rational, and pious, the family at Norwood realized all Laura's day-dreams of social happiness; and the only painful feeling that assailed her mind arose from the recollection that the time of her visit was fast stealing away. Her visit was, however, prolonged by a fortunate cold which detained Lady Pelham at Derham Green; and Laura could not regret an accident which delayed her separation from her friends. Indeed she began to dread Lady Pelham's return, both as the signal of her departure from Norwood, and as a prelude to the renewal of her persecutions on account of Hargrave. Far from having, as Lady Pelham had insinuated, renounced his pursuit, he returned in a few days from Mrs Bathurst's; again established himself with Lambert; and, though he could not uninvited intrude himself into Norwood, contrived to beset Laura as often as she passed its bounds. In the few visits which she paid, she generally encountered him; and he regularly waylaid her at church. But he had lost an able coadjutor in Lady Pelham; and now, when no one present was concerned to assist his designs, and when Laura was protected by kind and considerate friends, she generally found means to escape his officious attentions; though, remembering his former jealousy of Montague, and the irritability of his temper, she was scrupulously cautious of marking her preference of De Courcy, or of appearing to take sanctuary with him from the assiduities of Hargrave. Indeed, notwithstanding the mildness of De Courcy's disposition, she was not without fear that he might be involved in a quarrel by the unreasonable suspicions of Hargrave, who had often taxed her with receiving his addresses, ascribing his own failure to their success. She had in vain condescended to assure him that the charge was groundless. He never met De Courcy without shewing evident marks of dislike. If he accosted him, it was in a tone and manner approaching to insult. The most trivial sentence which De Courcy addressed to Laura, drew from Hargrave looks of enmity and defiance; while Montague, on his part, returned these aggressions by a cool disdain, the most opposite to the conciliating frankness of his general manners. Laura's alarm lest Hargrave's ill-concealed aversion should burst into open outrage, completed the dread with which he inspired her; and she felt like one subjected to the thraldom of an evil genius, when he one day announced to her that he had procured leave to remove his regiment to – ; in order, as he said, 'that he might be at hand to assert his rights over her.'

He conveyed this information as, rudely preventing Mr Bolingbroke and De Courcy, he led her from Mrs De Courcy's carriage into church. Laura durst not challenge his presumptuous expression, for Montague was close by her side, and she dreaded that his aversion to arrogance and oppression should induce him to engage in her quarrel. Silently therefore, though glowing with resentment, she suffered Hargrave to retain the place he had usurped, while Montague followed, with a countenance which a few short moments had clouded with sudden care. 'Ah,' thought he, 'those rights must indeed be strong which he dares thus boldly, thus publickly assert.' It was some time ere the service began, and Laura could not help casting glances of kind inquiry on the saddened face, which, a few minutes before, she had seen bright with animation and delight. Hargrave's eye followed her's with a far different expression. While she observed him darting a scowl of malice and aversion on the man to whom he owed his life, Laura shuddered; and wondering at the infatuation which had so long disguised his true character, bent her head, acknowledged her short-sightedness, and resigned the future events of her life to the disposal of heaven. It was the day immediately preceding Harriet's marriage, and neither she nor Mrs De Courcy was in church; Laura therefore returned home tête à tête with Montague. Ignorant that Hargrave's provoking half-whisper had been overheard by De Courcy, she could not account for the sudden change in his countenance and manner; yet though she took an affectionate interest in his melancholy, they had almost reached home before she summoned courage to inquire into its cause. 'I fear you are indisposed,' said she to him in a voice of kind concern. De Courcy thanked her. 'No, not indisposed,' said he, with a faint smile. 'Disturbed, then,' said Laura. De Courcy was silent for a moment, and then taking her hand, said, 'May I be candid with you?' 'Surely,' returned Laura. 'I trust I shall ever meet with candour in you.' 'Then I will own,' resumed De Courcy, 'that I am disturbed. And can the friend of Montreville be otherwise when he hears a right claimed over you by one so wholly unworthy of you?' 'Ah,' cried Laura, 'you have then heard all. I hoped you had not attended to him.' 'Attended!' exclaimed De Courcy, 'Could any right be claimed over you and I be regardless?' 'It were ungrateful to doubt your friendly interest in me,' replied Laura. 'Believe me Colonel Hargrave has no right over me, nor ever shall have.' 'Yet I did not hear you resist the claim,' returned De Courcy. 'Because,' answered Laura, 'I feared to draw your attention. His violence terrifies me, and I feared that – that you might' – She hesitated, stopped, and blushed very deeply. She felt the awkwardness of appearing to expect that De Courcy should engage in a quarrel on her account, but the simple truth ever rose so naturally to her lips, that she could not even qualify it without confusion. 'Might what?' cried De Courcy eagerly; 'Speak frankly I beseech you.' 'I feared,' replied Laura, recovering herself, 'that the interest you take in the daughter of your friend might expose you to the rudeness of this overbearing man.' 'And did you upon my account, dearest Laura, submit to this insolence?' cried De Courcy, his eyes sparkling with exultation. 'Is my honour, my safety then dear to you? Could you think of me even while Hargrave spoke!' With surprise and displeasure Laura read the triumphant glance which accompanied his words. 'Is it possible,' thought she, 'that, well as he knows me, he can thus mistake the nature of my regard! or can he, attached to another, find pleasure in the idle dream. Oh man! thou art altogether vanity!' Snatching away the hand which he was pressing to his lips, she coldly replied, 'I should have been equally attentive to the safety of any common stranger had I expected his interference, and Colonel Hargrave's speeches cannot divert my attention even from the most trivial object in nature.' Poor De Courcy, his towering hopes suddenly levelled with the dust, shrunk from the frozen steadiness of her eye. 'Pardon me, Miss Montreville,' said he in a tone of mingled sorrow and reproach, 'pardon me for the hope that you would make any distinction between me and the most indifferent. I shall soon be cured of my presumption.' Grieved at the pain she saw she had occasioned, Laura would fain have said something to mitigate the repulse which she had given: but a new light began to dawn upon her, and she feared to conciliate the friend lest she should encourage the lover. Fortunately for the relief of her embarrassment the carriage stopped. De Courcy gravely and in silence handed her from it; and, hurrying to her chamber, she sat down to reconsider the dialogue she had just ended.