Lady Maude

“ Ladies don't wear rings on the little finger."
"But it won't go on the others," said Maude dolefully: "it's too small."
"Make a larger one."
"Make one for me, Maude," again broke in Anne's little voice.
"No, I won't!" returned Maude. "You are big enough to thread beads for yourself."
"No, she's not," said Reginald. "Make her one, Maude."
"No, don't, Maude," said Edward. "Let them do things for themselves."
"You hear!" whispered Lady Hartledon.
"I do hear. And Val sits there and never reproves them; and the old dowager's head and eyes are nodding and twinkling approval." ”

“ Little Erminie lay asleep once more in her crib, and Martha sat dozing in her rocking-chair. Half ashamed of her groundless fears, Lady Maude lightly kissed her sleeping infant and hurried away. Little did she dream how many suns would rise and set—how many years would come and go—before they two should meet again. ”

“ And there she sat, beautiful Maude Glendower—the votary of fashion—the woman of the world—sat waiting for the cold, hard, overbearing man who thought to make her his wife. A ring at the door, a heavy tread upon the winding stairs, and the lady rests her head upon her hand, so that her glossy curls fall over, but do not conceal her white, rounded arm, where the diamonds are shining. ”

“ Love me, Love my Dog.
There was gravel to be ground in Hyde Park, but Lady Maude declined to assist in the operation, pleading a bad headache; so Lady Barmouth took her carriage exercise alone, while his lordship watched till the barouche had gone, when he went up and sat by his child in the drawing-room, and talked to her for a time, ending by selecting a comfortable chair and going off fast asleep. ”

“ He distracts me with his dreadful noise.”
“Plays that tune from Trovatore where the fellow’s shut up rather nicely,” said his lordship, rubbing his leg.
“Barmouth!”
“Yes, my dear.”
“Be quiet. And mind this, Maude, I have given instructions to the servants that this dreadful Italian is to be sent away.”
“Very well, mamma,” said Maude, coldly, “only be fair—send every man away who comes to the house. Be consistent in what you do.”
“Is the girl mad?” exclaimed Lady Barmouth. “What does she mean?”
“I mean, mamma,” cried Maude, with spirit, “that I will not—I cannot marry Sir Grantley Wilters.” ”

“ I feel as if I could do anything wicked and desperate.”
“Oh, hush, hush, dear,” whispered Tryphie; and Lady Barmouth maundered on in tones asking for sympathy, as she set herself up as the suffering ill-used mother whom no one tried to comfort in her distress.
“Saved you as I did from a life of misery,” continued her ladyship, whimpering. “Oh, dear! oh, dear! how children strive to throw themselves away.”
Maude moaned, and held her hand to her side.
“Are you ill, dear?” whispered Tryphie. ”

“ Lady Hartledon would not reply. She felt vexed with her mother, vexed with her husband, vexed on all sides; and she took refuge in her fatigue and was silent.
The dowager went to church on the following day. Maude would not go. The hot anger flushed into her face at the thought of showing herself there for the first time, unaccompanied by her husband: to Maude's mind it seemed that she must look to others so very much like a deserted wife. She comes home alone; he stays in London! ”

“ We should only get Benedict and old De Lacey to come, for, by my halidame, squires and knights won't come to see us now Meg and Doll are gone, and then, Maude, after all, you know," he continued slyly, "love will have its own way, and you trow full well that folk blamed me enough when I wedded."
Lady Maude blushed. The comments on her marriage with the baron had been by no means what she might have wished, as the remembrance of them was not particularly pleasant to her even now, so she discreetly held her peace. ”

“ But there are seasons in a woman's life, times when peril is looked forward to, that bring thought even to the most careless nature. Maude was trying to play at "being good," and was reading the psalms for the day in an absent fashion, her thoughts elsewhere; and the morning passed on. The quiet apathy of her present state, compared with the restless fever which had stirred her during her last sojourn at Hartledon, was remarkable.
Suddenly there burst in upon her the countess-dowager: that estimable lady's bonnet awry, her face scarlet, herself in a commotion. ”

“ There has been no secret made of my engagement to Anne. All the world knows of that."
"Then—though I do not in the least defend or excuse you—your breaking with Lady Maude may be more pardonable. They are poor, are they not, this Dowager Kirton and Lady Maude?"
"Poor as Job. Hard up, I think."
"Then they are angling for the broad lands of Hartledon. I see it all. You have been a victim to fortune-hunting."
"There you are wrong, Carr. I can't answer for the dowager one way or the other; but Maude is the most disinterested—"
"Of course: girls on the look-out for establishments always are. ”

“ Whatever you do, don't write a word to that Carr friend of yours; he's as sharp as a two-edged sword. As well let things be done privately; it is Maude's wish."
"I shall not write to him," cried Hartledon, feeling a sudden heat upon his face, "or to any one else."
"Here's Maude. Step this way, Maude. Hartledon wants the ceremony to take place on Saturday, and I have promised for you."
Lady Maude advanced; she had really come in by accident; her head was bent, her eyelashes rested on her flushed cheeks. A fair prize; very, very fair! The old dowager put her hand into Lord Hartledon's. ”

“ Why, he was once heard to say he would sooner marry a good-natured Irish girl than a fashionable city lady who knew nothing but to dress, and flirt, and play the piano—the wretch!"
"Oh! I know I should like him," exclaimed Louis, who had been an attentive listener.
"I dare say you would, and Maude, too," returned Nellie, adding, after a moment: "And I shouldn't wonder if Maude just suited him, particularly if he finds her up to her elbows in dough. So, Maude, it is for your interest to improve the old castle a little. Won't you buy a new carpet?" ”

“ The superbly-furnished dressing-room of Lady Maude Percy was all ablaze with numberless little jets of flame, which the immense mirrors magnified four-fold. Priceless jewels lay carelessly strewn about on the inlaid dressing-table, mingling with rare bouquets, laces, gloves, and tiny satin slippers, that would scarcely have fitted Cinderella herself. Lady Kate McGregor, proud and stately, in white satin, and point-lace, and pale, delicate pearls, stood leaning against the marble mantel, her handsome eyes growing cold and scornful whenever they rested on Miss Clara Jernyngham. ”

“ Poor Maude has been driven to this mad step by her ladyship, and it is possible—mind, I only say possible—that she may have preferred to accompany—no, damn it all, I’m as mad as she is, even Wilters don’t believe it. Father, no! no!! no!!! Wilters is right—my sister would not stoop to take such a step. She is a true lady.”
“Yes, Tom, God bless her, she is,” faltered the old man, “and I shall—shall about break my heart if I’m to lose my darling.” ”

“ Then, unable to bear it, she turned to leave the room, but just then the door opened and the butler announced Sir Grantley Wilters.
“Ah, how do!” he said in a high-pitched voice, saluting all in turn, and bending low over Maude’s hand. “Thought I’d come soon, don’t you know, sans cérémonie, eh, mamma!” he said with a smile to Lady Barmouth, and then gave his glass a screw, and brought it to bear on all present.
“I am so glad,” said her ladyship; “so is Maude; but don’t take any notice,” she whispered. “Poor child, she is distrait, and seems cold. So deeply attached to Lord Barmouth. ”

“ Has the signore returned?”
“No, signora,” said the waiter, and he bowed and went back into the old palazzo.
“I wanted to go to a cheap hotel,” said Maude, dreamily, and with a happy smile upon her face—somewhat inane, it is true, for it was the young married lady’s smile—“but he said his cara bella sposa must have everything of the best. Oh, my darling! my darling! how he loves me. Poor? What is poverty? I grow more proud of him every day. What do we want with society? Ah, how I hate it. Give me poverty and love. Oh, come back, my darling, come back. ”

“ Here’s every shilling a fellow wants screwed out, till I feel as if I should like to enlist; and as for Maudey here, you’ve treated her as if she were a piece of sculpture, to be sold to the highest bidder. I suppose she has not got a heart.”
“Lord Barmouth!” exclaimed her ladyship, faintly, as she lay back in her chair, and lavishly used her smelling-salts, “if one of my brothers had spoken to dear mamma as that boy speaks to me, dear papa would have felled him to the earth.”
“There you are, gov’nor, there’s your chance,” said Tom, grinning. ”

“ Maude looked at her father in a startled way.
“Barmouth, be silent,” cried her ladyship, as the butler entered the room with a fresh present upon a tray. “Robbins,” she said, “go downstairs and tell that man that he will be given into custody if he does not go away directly. Tell him some one is ill,”—for just then a fresh strain was ground out in a most doleful fashion, and Maude began softly humming the air to herself as she gazed down, still in the man’s handsome face. ”

“ The first, that he was a Scotchman, who are of all men the least likely to wear their hearts upon their sleeves; the other, that his mind was always grappling with some far-away subject which made him forget the smaller things close by him.’
‘But the smaller things are everything to a woman,’ said Maude. ‘If ever you forget those smaller things, sir, to be as courteous to your wife as you would be to any other lady, to be loving and thoughtful and sympathetic, it will be no consolation to me to know that you have written the grandest book that ever was. ”

“ As Maude in speaking lifted her eyes to the lady’s face, she saw the smiling lips grow suddenly grave, and the cold bright light die out of the beaming eyes.
“Child,” said the Lady de Narbonne seriously, “Hawise Gerard is dead.”
“Woe is me! I feared so much,” answered Maude sorrowfully. “And might it please you, Madam, to arede (tell) me fully when she died, and how, and where?”
“She died to thee, little maid, when she went to the Castle of Pleshy,” was the unsatisfactory answer.
“May I wit no more, Madam? Your Ladyship knew her, trow?” ”

“ As I have told you, and I repeat it once for all, that silly flirtation with Mr Melton is quite at an end, and now we must be serious.”
“Serious, mamma!” cried Maude, rising; “I assure you—”
“That will do, child, that will do. You must let older people think for you, if you please. Be silent.”
Lady Barmouth sailed out of the room, and with a flush upon her countenance Maude returned to her work-basket for the silk, starting as she did so, for something touched her, and there was Joby’s great head with the prominent eyes staring up at her, as if to say, “Are you ready?” ”

“ But you should have seen him shoot.”
“Sir Grantley told me that he was a very good shot,” said her ladyship.
“Oh, he did, did he?” roared Tom. “Bless his modesty. Well, I’m going to tell Maude that when she’s married she had better look out, and if ever she sees her lovely husband take up a gun she had better bolt—out of town—the seaside—or come home. She won’t be safe if she don’t.”
Lord Barmouth tittered at this, but his lady looked round at him so sharply, that he turned it off, and stared stolidly straight before him. ”

“ Maude felt that she was alone, and, even in these nineteenth century times, being as helplessly driven into marriage with a man she detested as if in the days of old chivalry, when knights and barons patronised ironmongery for costume, and carried off captive maidens to their castles to espouse them before shaven friar, or else dispense with his services. ”

“ As to peace of mind, why what is there to disturb it? It is our peace of mind that suffers. Poor Sir Grantley Wilters is half distracted about her.”
“Is he?” said the doctor, bluntly. “Why, what has it got to do with him?”
“Hush, doctor! Fie!” exclaimed her ladyship, smiling. “There, you are making somebody blush. It is too bad.”
Maude darted an indignant glance at her mother, and with flaming cheeks and eyes full of tears left the room.
“Poor girl, she is so hysterical,” said her ladyship. “Ah, these young girls, these young girls! Of course you will stay lunch, doctor?” ”

“ Oh, for shame!”
“I—I d-d-d-don’t mean with his hands, my lady, b-b-but with his great dark eyes, miss, and—and he fixes you like; and once you’re like I am you’re always seeing them, and they’re looking right into you, and it makes you—you—you feel as if you must go where he tells you to, and—and I can’t help it, and I’m a wretched, unhappy girl.”
“You are indeed,” said Maude with spirit. “It is degrading in the extreme. An organ-grinder—pah!”
“It—it—it don’t matter what he is, my lady,” sobbed Dolly. “It’s the man does it. ”

“ He hurried through his interviews with his regular patients, and reached Portland Place just as lunch was going in; but it was put back while Lady Barmouth took him into the drawing-room, where Maude was seated.
“Ah, my dear!” he exclaimed, in his cheery way. “Why, I say, what’s the matter?”
He sat talking to her for some little time, wrote a prescription, and then rose.
“There, Lady Barmouth,” he said; “that is all I can do. Give her change and peace of mind, and she will soon be well.”
“Indeed, doctor,” cried her ladyship, “she shall have everything she can wish for. ”