The preparations for the marriage of Lord Verner to Miss Tallant gradually drew towards completion, and the fashionable world was all agog at the event. The newspapers had published all kinds of piquant paragraphs about the beauty of the bride, her great wealth, the nobility of her birth, and the immense riches of the bridegroom. Introduced by the popular gossip-preface on dit, the Court Journal and Court Circular had fairly vied with each other in racy scraps about Montem Castle and Barton Hall. A journal devoted to the fine arts had made the discovery that many of the landscapes by the now famous artist, Arthur Phillips, were copies of the glorious scenery in that beautiful valley of Avonworth where Barton Hall was situated.
Local newspapers dug up from local histories and elsewhere anecdotes of the Verners, and expressed their belief that his lordship the present Earl would now take his place at the head of the county, and mix in society, as his noble father had done before him. It was, indeed, confidently stated that this would be the effect of his lordship’s marriage, and the county was congratulated upon the event in a hearty, manful style. One journalist, evidently with the fear of London and Punch and Eatanswill before him, came out in a very explanatory sketch, in which he ventured to point out how legitimate it was that county people should make a fuss on the occasion of this marriage, and how proper it was that the newspapers should set forth the event as one of great importance. It was all very well for London people to think lightly of such things; but Londoners were altogether differently placed. They made fuss enough on the occasion of royal marriages, and filled their newspapers with orange-blossom articles. In a city like Severntown the nobility were mixed up with the social, political, and religious welfare of the place. The citizens rejoiced in having such neighbours, and it was right that they should acknowledge the dignity and worth of their native aristocracy. In the present instance the union of an Earl of Verner with the daughter of a woman of the house of Petherington, and daughter of the late Christopher Tallant, a merchant prince, was an event of importance not only to the county of Severnshire but to England. The provincial editor, though he might feel that he was saying nothing silly, nor anything smacking of toadyism, thought it judicious once more in this place to contrast the difference between provincial editors and London editors. The latter might think it fine to laugh at enthusiastic provincials, but Londoners could not possibly enter into the feelings which must necessarily animate a provincial community on an occasion like the present. Londoners who did not talk politics, and could not understand the intense excitement of an election, did not know what it was to live in a restricted community associated with noble and wealthy families who possessed means and facilities for being of the greatest social benefit to those amongst whom they lived.
Our friend got a little involved at this point of his elaborate justification of himself. There was so much of special pleading in his article that the intelligent reader might not unfairly think that he knew he was toadying a little, and was fighting an attack by anticipation. In one portion of his article he was very bitter; he said that the London newspaper-men, who professed to look down from the greatest heights upon provincials, were provincials themselves. Then he claimed all the best men in town as countrymen, and vowed that all the most noteworthy magazine articles were written by provincials. How the editor drifted into this irrelevant discussion was curious to note; how he got back again to the subject in hand was a marvel of literary art. He finished by showing how the marriages of the great influenced the destinies of a nation, and he went back to the remotest times for illustrations of this important point.
Even at the risk of involving the narrative, we pause to tell the reader that the provincial thunderer in question has since succeeded in obtaining an appointment in town, and that he has begun already to look down from his high tower upon his humbler brethren of the Severnshire press; indeed, he is said to be the writer of that amusing satirical tract on “Mrs. Grundy’s Borough,” which lampoons so smartly the society, public and private, of the old city. Well, “circumstances alter cases,” as the Severntown Mercury wisely remarked in reviewing that offensive publication, which took the old city and the post-office by storm one morning not very long ago. The London provincial gentleman, if he be living now (and we hope he is living happily and prosperously), will we trust forgive our allusion to this incident; he may say that it is more irrelevant to this history than that passage in his article to the subject discussed. Perhaps he is right; we bow to his opinion with all deference. We can assure him that we should not have mentioned him at all, only that our story seemed to demand it. Honestly endeavouring to place these records of modern history fairly before the reader, we could not, without something like a breach of faith, have excluded the journalistic features of the union of the houses of Verner and Tallant, and particularly when we consider the consequences of that interesting and delightful marriage.
It would appear that when the Hon. Elizabeth Petherington married Christopher Tallant, Esq., her family had discarded her. Being of high and noble birth, the other ladies of her family had not approved of the marriage, and when the male head of the Petheringtons died, the female tails cut themselves off from the wife of the merchant prince; so that neither Phœbe nor Amy had ever heard from the Petheringtons, and Miss Tallant, in fact, knew nothing of them until she received a friendly and affectionate letter from Lady Petherington, reminding her of the relationship, and desiring that she might be by her niece’s side at the wedding. This renewal of family friendship resulted in the broken threads of other links being gathered together, and as those hymeneal paragraphs continued to appear in the fashionable newspapers, there opened up to the bride elect quite a party of relatives and friends, who came and visited her shortly before the time fixed for the wedding; so that all of a sudden Barton Hall became quite gay with visitors, and Phœbe was invited to come amongst her dear friend’s newly-found relations. Phœbe feared at first that she might be embarrassed in such high society; but she was not in the least, and Miss Tallant complimented her upon her beauty and her charming manners. As for Amy, she received her guests with the most graceful dignity, though her aunt, Lady Petherington, was piqued and annoyed at the high tone of her niece. Her ladyship confessed to her sister that the young woman actually patronised her—she was sure of it; she had never met with such audacity. The poor thing was certainly rather good-looking and dreadfully rich, she believed—shockingly rich—so she supposed they must put up with her airs. The Verners were an old family, and wealthy, too, she said, and no doubt his lordship was marrying for money. What he could see in the young woman beyond that, of course, she was at a loss to know. The sister did not quite agree with her ladyship; she vowed she thought the young person very tolerable indeed, very tolerable; of course it did not concern her whether she were so or otherwise. An introduction to Earl Verner’s set—for of course he would go thoroughly into society now—was all she cared for, coupled with one month in the year at Montem Castle.
During their stay his lordship sent over carriages to convey them to Montem, where he gave them a magnificent entertainment, and showed them his house and grounds. Miss Somerton was of the party, much to the disappointment of Arthur Phillips, who had come over on that day to sketch a particular spot which Phœbe loved.
Lady Petherington and her sister (who, by the way, were both grey, if the truth had been known, and wore false teeth) made themselves particularly amiable at Montem, and the eldest (Amy said she was fifty, at least) was by no means comfortable under what she called the ignorantly patronising airs of Miss Tallant. We fear Amy did not intend to enhance the happiness of Lady Petherington’s visits.
“They only came, your lordship,” she said to the Earl, when they were alone for a few minutes in the gardens, “they only came because I am going to be a countess.”
“Good, good,” said his lordship, swinging his eye-glass round, and looking admiringly at the fine woman who was laughing and chatting so easily.
“It is true. I never heard of them until the other day: they cut my poor mother for marrying a commoner. Fancy, your lordship, only fancy Lady Mary Petherington cutting any one!”
Amy laughed quite bewitchingly at the idea of any one caring what opinion Lady Mary Petherington might have concerning them.
“There! Now I know you will think me shockingly ungrateful, after they have condescended so much,” went on the merry girl, patting his lordship’s hand with her fan, and flashing her big dark eyes upon him.
“What a merry laugh it is; it does one’s heart good,” said his lordship, offering Miss Tallant his arm, and leading her away at the sound of approaching footsteps.
“These ladies have only come to make your lordship’s acquaintance, not mine; they have determined to spend long visits at Montem Castle. I saw Lady Mary choosing her room when she was looking at those beautiful apartments on the first floor. I did indeed,” she went on, and then she laughed again, and Lord Verner laughed, and said the Countess was full of fun.
Whether it was fun or not, he said the Countess of Verner should select her own guests, and at this moment their ladyships and Phœbe joined them on the terrace.
A few minutes afterwards, when Phœbe and the future Countess went up-stairs to put on their shawls, Miss Tallant sat down wearily in the first chair that presented itself, wearied and jaded with the part she had been playing. What a fine actress she would have made; her rôle would have included all the glorious women of the drama, from “Lady Teazle” to “Constance” in King John.
END OF VOL. II.
BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.