Valerie

“Had I not heard it, I could not have believed it either,” replied she. “I thought that you had come here on a visit as a friend; but what makes me think that I ought to tell you is, that there will be something said against your character, which I am sure, must be false.”

“Now, indeed, I must request that you will tell me everything, and soften nothing down, but tell me the whole truth. Who is it that intends to attack my character?”

“I am sorry—very sorry to say, it is mamma,” replied she, wiping away a tear.

“Lady M—!” exclaimed I.

“Yes,” replied she; “but now you must listen to all I have to say. I am sure that I am doing right in telling you, and therefore nothing shall prevent me. I love my mother—what a sad thing it is that I cannot respect her! I was in the dressing-room, when my mother was lying on the sofa in her bedroom this morning, when her great friend, Mrs Germane, came up. She sat talking with my mother for some time, and they appeared either to forget or not to care if I heard them; for at last your name was mentioned.

“‘Well, she does dress you and your girls beautifully, I must say,’ said Mrs Germane. ‘Who is she? They say that she is of a good family; and how came she to live with you as a milliner?’

“‘My dear Mrs Germane, that she does live with me as a milliner is true, and it was for that reason only I invited her to the house; but she is not aware that I retain her in that capacity. She is, I understand from Mrs Bathurst, of a noble family in France, thrown upon the world by circumstances, very talented, and very proud. Her extreme taste in dress I discovered when she was living with Mrs Bathurst; and, when I found that she was about, through my management, to leave Lady R—, I invited her here as a sort of friend, and to stay with my daughters—not a word did I mention about millinery; I had too much tact for that. Even when her services were required, I made it appear as her own offer, and expressed my thanks for her condescension, and since that, by flattery and management, she has continued to dress my daughters for me; and, I must say, that I do believe it has been owing to her exquisite taste that my daughters have gone off so well.’

“‘Well, you have managed admirably,’ replied Mrs Germane; ‘but, my dear Lady M—, what will you do with her now?’

“‘Oh,’ replied Lady M—, ‘as Amy will now come out, I shall retain her in my employ until she is disposed of; and then—’

“‘Yes, then will be the difficulty,’ replied Mrs Germane; ‘after having allowed her to live so long with you as a visitor, I may say, how will you get rid of her?’

“‘Why, I was puzzling myself about that, and partly decided that it should be done by mortifying her, and wounding her feelings, for she is very proud; but, fortunately, I have found out something which I shall keep to myself, until the time comes, and then I can dismiss her at a moment’s warning.’

“‘Indeed!’ said Mrs Germane, ‘what could you have found out?’

“‘Well, I will tell you; but you must not mention it again. My maid entered the room the other day, when mademoiselle was receiving a young man who called upon her, and she found them kissing.’

“‘You don’t say so!’

“‘Yes, a kiss was given, and my maid saw it. Now, I can easily make it appear that my maid never mentioned it to me till the time that it may be convenient to make use of it, and then I can send her away; and if any questions are asked, hint at a little impropriety of conduct.’

“‘And very properly too,’ replied Mrs Germane. ‘Had I not better hint a little beforehand to prepare people?’

“‘Why, it may be as well, perhaps; but be cautious, very cautious, my dear Mrs Germane.’

“Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf, I am sorry that I am obliged, in doing my duty to you, to expose mamma,” said Amy, rising up from her chair; “but I am sure that you could not be guilty of any impropriety, and I will not allow you to be accused of it, if it is to be prevented.”

“Many thanks,” replied I. “My dear Amy, you have behaved like a kind friend. I have only, in duty to myself, to clear up the charge against me, of impropriety. You must not imagine me guilty of that. It is true that your mother’s maid did come in when a young lad of seventeen, who was grateful to me for the interest I took in his welfare, and who was taking leave of me at the time, did raise my hand to his lips and kiss it, and, had he done so before your mother, I should not have prevented it. This was the kiss which, as your mother asserts, passed between us, and this is the only impropriety that took place. Oh, what a sad, treacherous, selfish, wicked world this is!” cried I, throwing myself on the sofa, and bursting into tears.

Amy was making every attempt to console me, and blaming herself for having made the communication, when Lady M— came downstairs into the room.

“What is all this—what a scene!” exclaimed she. “Mademoiselle de Chatenoeuf, have you had any bad news?”

“Yes, my lady,” replied I, “so bad that I am under the necessity of leaving you directly.”

“Indeed! may I inquire what has happened?”

“No, my lady, it is not in my power to tell you. I have only to repeat, that I must, with your permission, leave this house to-morrow morning.”

“Well, mademoiselle,” replied her ladyship, “I do not want to pry into your secrets, but this I must say, that where there is concealment, there must be wrong; but I have lately discovered so much, that I do not wonder at concealment—nor am I, indeed, surprised at your wish to leave me.”

“Lady M—,” replied I, haughtily, “I have never done anything during the time that I have been under your roof which I have to blush for—nor indeed anything that requires concealment. This I can proudly say. If I conceal now, it is to spare others, and, I may add, to spare you. Do not oblige me to say more in presence of your daughter. It will be sufficient for me to hint to you, that I am now aware why I was invited to your house, and what are your plans for dismissing me when it suits you.”

“Eaves-dropping, then, is a portion of your character, mademoiselle,” cried Lady M—, colouring up to the temples.

“No, madam, such is not the case, and that is all the answer I shall give; it is sufficient for you that you are exposed, and I do not envy your present feelings. I have only to repeat, that I shall leave this house to-morrow morning, and I will not further trouble your ladyship with my company.”

I then walked out of the room, and as I passed Lady M—, and observed her confusion and vexation, I felt that it was she who was humiliated, and not me. I went up to my room and commenced my preparations for immediate departure, and had been more than an hour busy in packing up, when Amy came into my room.

“Oh, Valerie, how sorry I am—but you have behaved just as I think that you ought to have done; and how very kind of you not to say that I told you. My mother was so angry after you left; said that the maids must have been listening, and declares she will give them all warning; but I know that she will not do that. She spoke about your meeting a young man, and kissing going on; but you have already explained all that.”

“Amy,” replied I, “after I am gone, take an opportunity of saying to Lady M—, that you mentioned this to me, and tell her that my reply was, if Lady M— knew who that young man was, how he is connected, and how large a fortune he will inherit, she would be very glad to see him kiss one of her daughter’s hands with a different feeling from that which induced him to kiss mine.”

“I will, depend upon it,” said Amy, “and then mamma will think that she has lost a good husband for me.”

“She will meet him some of these days,” replied I; “and what is more, he will defend me from any attack made on that score.”

“I will tell her that, also,” said Amy, “it will make her careful of what she says.”

One of the servants then knocked at the door, and said, that Lady M— wished to see Miss Amy.

“Wish me good-bye now,” said I, “for you may not be permitted to see me again.”

The dear girl embraced me cordially, and, with tears in her eyes, left the room. I remained till I had finished packing, and then sat down. Shortly afterwards her ladyship’s maid came in, and delivered me an envelope from her ladyship, enclosing the salary due to me, with Lady M—’s compliments written outside.

I saw no more of Lady M— or her daughter that evening. I went to bed, and, as in my former changes, I reflected what steps I should take. As for the treatment I had received, I was now to a certain degree hardened to it, and my feelings certainly were not so acute as when, the first time, I had received a lesson of what I might expect through life from the heartlessness and selfishness of the world; but in the present case there was a difficulty which did not exist in the former—I was going away without knowing where I was to go. After a little thought, I determined that I would seek Madame Gironac, and ascertain whether she could not receive me until I had decided upon my future plans.

My thoughts then recurred to other points. I recollected that I had to meet Mr Selwyn and Lionel in Baker Street, and I resolved that I would go there with my effects early the next morning and leave them in charge of the cook, who was taking care of the house. I calculated also the money that I had in possession and in prospect. I had such a good stock of clothes when I came to England with Madame Bathurst, that I had no occasion, during the two years and more that I had now been in England, to make any purchases of consequence—indeed, I had not expended more than the twenty pounds I had brought with me. I had received some few presents from Lady M— and Madame Bathurst, and a great many from Lady R—. Altogether, I calculated that I had about two hundred and sixty pounds in my desk, for Lady R— had given me one hundred pounds for only a portion of the year; then there was the five hundred pounds which she had left me, besides her wearing apparel and trinkets, which last I knew to be of value. It was a little fortune to one in my position, and I resolved to consult Mr Selwyn as to the best way of disposing of it. Having wound up my meditations with the most agreeable portion of them, I fell asleep, and in the morning woke up refreshed.

Lady M—’s maid, who had always been partial to me, for I had taught her many things valuable to a lady’s-maid, came in early, and said that she knew that I was going away, which she regretted very much. I replied that I should leave as soon as possible, but I wanted some breakfast. This she brought up to my room.

I had not finished when Amy came in the room and said, “I have permission to come and wish you good-bye, Valerie. I told mamma what you said about the person who was seen to kiss your hand. She acknowledges now that it was your hand that was kissed, and she was so astonished, for she knows that you never tell stories; and, what do you think, she desired me to find out what was the young gentleman’s name that had so large a fortune. I said I would if I could, and so I will, by asking you outright, not by any other means. I don’t want to know his name,” continued she, laughing, “but I’m sure mamma has in her mind fixed upon him for a husband for me, and would now give the world that you were not going away, that through you he might be introduced to her.”

“I cannot tell you, my dear,” replied I. “I am not at liberty to mention it at present, otherwise I would with pleasure. I am going now. May God bless you, my dearest, and may you always continue to be the same frank and amiable creature that you are now! I leave you with regret, and I pray earnestly for your happiness. You have made me very happy by telling me that your mamma acknowledges that it was my hand that was kissed, after that, she will hardly attempt to injure me, as she proposed.”

“Oh no, Valerie, I think she is afraid to do so now. This young man of fortune has made her think differently. He would, of course, protect you from slander, and expose her, if she attempted it. Then, good-bye.”

We embraced, and then I ordered a hackney-coach to be called, and drove with my luggage to Baker Street. The cook welcomed me, saying that she expected my coming, as Mr Selwyn had called to tell her of Lady R—’s death, and that when she asked to whom she was to look for her wages, he had told her that I was the person who was to settle all her ladyship’s affairs, as everything was left on my hands. She showed me a letter from Martha, Lady R—’s maid, by which I found that they would probably arrive in Baker Street that very day, with all her ladyship’s effects.

“I suppose you will sleep here, miss?” said the cook, “I have aired your bed, and your room is all ready.”

I replied that I wished to do so for a night or two, at all events, as I had a good deal to attend to, but that Mr Selwyn would call at one o’clock, and that I would speak to him on the subject.

I had requested Lionel to call at twelve, an hour previous to Mr Selwyn, that I might make him acquainted with the contents of Lady R—’s papers addressed to me. He was punctual to the time, and I shook hands with him, saying, “Lionel, I congratulate you, at now having proofs of your being the nephew of Lady R—, and also at her having left you considerable property. You will be surprised to hear that she has appointed me her executrix.”

“I am not at all surprised,” replied Lionel; “I am sure she has done a wise thing at last.”

“That is more than I am,” replied I, “but I appreciate the compliment. But, Lionel, there is no time to be lost, as Mr Selwyn, the lawyer, is coming here at one o’clock, and before he comes I wish you to read over Lady R—’s confession, if I may so call it, which will explain the motives of her conduct towards you. I am afraid that it will not extenuate her conduct, but recollect that she has now made all the reparation in her power, and that we must forgive as we hope to be forgiven. Sit down and read these papers, while I unpack one or two of my boxes upstairs.”

“The last time that we were here, I corded them up for you, Miss Valerie; I hope that you will allow me to assist you again.”