SEATED on an ottoman in the octagon library, occasionally throwing a glance at her illuminated and crowded saloons, or beckoning, with a fan almost as long as herself, to a distant guest, Lady Bellair received the world on the evening of the day that had witnessed the strange rencontre between Henrietta Temple and Ferdinand Armine. Her page, who stood at the library-door in a new fancy dress, received the announcement of the company from the other servants, and himself communicated the information to his mistress.
‘Mr. Million de Stockville, my lady,’ said the page.
‘Hem!’ said her ladyship, rather gruffly, as, with no very amiable expression of countenance, she bowed, with her haughtiest dignity, to a rather common-looking personage in a gorgeously-embroidered waistcoat.
‘Lady Ionia Colonnade, my lady.’ Lady Bellair bestowed a smiling nod on this fair and classic dame, and even indicated, by a movement of her fan, that she might take a seat on her ottoman.
‘Sir Ratcliffe and Lady Armine, my lady, and Miss Grandison.’
‘Dear, good people!’ exclaimed Lady Bellair, ‘how late you are! and where is your wicked son? There, go into the next room, go, go, and see the wonderful man. Lady Ionia, you must know Lady Armine; she is like you; she is one of my favourites. Now then, there all of you go together. I will not have anybody stay here except my niece. This is my niece,’ Lady Bellair added, pointing to a young lady seated by her side; ‘I give this party for her.’ ‘General Faneville, my lady.’ ‘You are very late,’ said Lady Bellair. ‘I dined at Lord Rochfort’s,’ said the general bowing.
‘Rochfort’s! Oh! where are they? where are the Rochforts? they ought to be here. I must, I will see them. Do you think Lady Rochfort wants a nursery governess? Because I have a charming person who would just suit her. Go and find her out, General, and enquire; and if she do not want one, find out some one who does. Ask Lady Maxbury. There, go, go.’
‘Mr. and Miss Temple, my lady.’
‘Oh, my darling!’ said Lady Bellair, ‘my real darling! sit by me. I sent Lady Ionia away, because I determined to keep this place for you. I give this party entirely in your honour, so you ought to sit here. You are a good man,’ she continued, addressing Mr. Temple; ‘but I can’t love you so well as your daughter.’
‘I should be too fortunate,’ said Mr. Temple, smiling.
‘I knew you when you ate pap,’ said Lady Bellair, laughing.
‘Mrs. Montgomery Floyd, my lady.’
Lady Bellair assumed her coldest and haughtiest glance. Mrs. Montgomery appeared more gorgeous than ever. The splendour of her sweeping train almost required a page to support it; she held a bouquet which might have served for the centre-piece of a dinner-table. A slender youth, rather distinguished in appearance, simply dressed, with a rose-bud just twisted into his black coat, but whose person distilled odours whose essence might have exhausted a conservatory, lounged at her side.
‘May I have the honour to present to your ladyship Lord Catchimwhocan?’ breathed forth Mrs. Montgomery, exulting in her companion, perhaps in her conquest.
Lady Bellair gave a short and ungracious nod. Mrs. Montgomery recognised Mr. and Miss Temple. ‘There, go, go,’ said Lady Bellair, interrupting her, ‘nobody must stop here; go and see the wonderful man in the next room.’
‘Lady Bellair is so strange,’ whimpered Mrs. Montgomery, in an apologetical whisper to Miss Temple, and she moved away, covering her retreat by the graceful person of Lord Catchimwhocan.
‘Some Irish guardsman, I suppose,’ said Lady Bellair. ‘I never heard of him; I hate guardsmen.’
‘Rather a distinguished-looking man, I think,’ said Mr. Temple.
‘Do you think so?’ said Lady Bellair, who was always influenced by the last word. ‘I will ask him for Thursday and Saturday. I think I must have known his grandfather. I must tell him not to go about with that horrid woman. She is so very fine, and she uses musk; she puts me in mind of the Queen of Sheba,’ said the little lady, laughing, ‘all precious stones and frankincense. I quite hate her.’
‘I thought she was quite one of your favourites, Lady Bellair?’ said Henrietta Temple rather maliciously.
‘A Bath favourite, my dear; a Bath favourite. I wear my old bonnets at Bath, and use my new friends; but in town I have old friends and new dresses.’
‘Lady Frederick Berrington, my lady.’ ‘Oh! my dear Lady Frederick, now I will give you a treat. I will introduce you to my sweet, sweet friend, whom I am always talking to you of. You deserve to know her; you will taste her; there, sit down, sit by her, and talk to her, and make love to her.’
‘Lady Womandeville, my lady.’
‘Ah! she will do for the lord; she loves a lord. My dear lady, you come so late, and yet I am always so glad to see you. I have such a charming friend for you, the handsomest, most fashionable, witty person, quite captivating, and his grandfather was one of my dearest friends. What is his name? what is his name? Lord Catchimwhocan. Mind, I introduce you to him, and ask him to your house very often.’
Lady Womandeville smiled, expressed her delight, and moved on.
Lord Montfort, who had arrived before the Temples, approached the ottoman.
‘Is the duchess here?’ enquired Henrietta, as she shook hands with him.
‘And Isabella,’ he replied. Henrietta rose, and taking his arm, bid adieu to Lady Bellair.
‘God bless you,’ said her ladyship, with great emphasis. ‘I will not have you speak to that odious Mrs. Floyd, mind.’
When Lord Montfort and Henrietta succeeded in discovering the duchess, she was in the conservatory, which was gaily illuminated with coloured lamps among the shrubs. Her Grace was conversing with cordiality with a lady of very prepossessing appearance, in whom the traces of a beauty once distinguished were indeed still considerable, and her companion, an extremely pretty person, in the very bloom of girlhood. Lord Montfort and Henrietta were immediately introduced to these ladies, as Lady Armine and Miss Grandison. After the scene of the morning, it was not easy to deprive Miss Temple of her equanimity; after that shock, no incident connected with the Armine family could be surprising; she was even desirous of becoming acquainted with Miss Grandison, and she congratulated herself upon the opportunity which had so speedily offered itself to gratify her wishes. The duchess was perfectly delighted with Lady Armine, whose manners were fascinating; between the families there was some connection of blood, and Lady Armine, too, had always retained a lively sense of the old duke’s services to her son. Henrietta had even to listen to enquiries made after Ferdinand, and she learnt that he was slowly recovering from an almost fatal illness, that he could not endure the fatigues of society, and that he was even living at an hotel for the sake of quiet. Henrietta watched the countenance of Katherine, as Lady Armine gave this information. It was serious, but not disturbed. Her Grace did not separate from her new friends the whole of the evening, and they parted with a mutually expressed wish that they might speedily and often meet. The duchess pronounced Lady Armine the most charming person she had ever met; while, on the other hand, Miss Grandison was warm in her admiration of Henrietta Temple and Lord Montfort, whom she thought quite worthy even of so rare a prize.
