Jane Rubino - Lady Vernon and Her Daughter: A Novel of Jane Austen’s Lady Susan

             Your devoted friend,

             Alicia Johnson

When at last Sir Frederick was well enough to dine with the family, and walk with Frederica to the greenhouse and back again, Lady Vernon insisted that Sir James could no longer be spared from Ealing Park and sent him away with a vow to bring Sir Frederick to Derbyshire when he was able to stand the journey. Sir James’s departure was followed, to Lady Vernon’s great displeasure, by the arrival of Charles Vernon. She could not account for his wanting to come to them, for she had heard that when his own father had lain ill at Churchill, Charles had demonstrated no patience for the sickbed or desire to be anyplace that could not promise him company and diversion.

Lady Vernon set down his parade of fraternal affection to some mercenary motive. She suspected that perhaps Charles hoped to have some gambling losses in London offset with money cajoled out of his brother, for Mrs. Johnson’s letters had given an odious picture of Charles’s want of discretion when he was in town.

Sir Frederick was more trusting; his propensity to think well of everybody had him contend that if the gravity of his situation brought out the best in Charles, he was quite content to be an invalid.

As for Frederica, she regarded her uncle with civility but avoided him whenever she could. The severity of her father’s injury had left him with no memory of the accident, but she could not forget the sight of Mr. Vernon standing motionless beside his fallen brother and afterward wondered what would have become of her father if she had not happened upon them. She had not read enough novels to convert her uncle into a certain scoundrel, but in her study of nature she had observed that from the same ground, one tree may grow up straight and sound while another may stand upright but within be all corruption and decay.

Had Lady Vernon or her daughter suspected that Charles had a very particular motive in forfeiting the pleasures of London, one or the other would have insisted upon being a third party to their meetings. Instead, they left Sir Frederick entirely under his brother’s influence, and Charles did not hesitate to use every moment to his advantage.

He would begin by engaging his brother’s sympathy and affection with some diverting anecdotes of the children, in which the cunning expressions and boyish tricks of Sir Frederick’s namesake played the principal role. These sentimental parables were invariably followed by some flattering observations upon Churchill Manor’s material improvement. “The property is quite superior to what it was,” he remarked. “I confess that I now understand our father’s decision to keep fortune and property together—though I may have harbored some youthful resentment at the time. What is the value of an entail if one has not the means to keep the estate in good order? How often have we seen a gentleman in possession of a good property carve up his fortune in such a way as to make it impossible for his heir to make even the smallest improvement? If that heir should be a single gentleman who brings some income of his own into the arrangement, all may be well, but if he should be a gentleman with a large family to provide for, either they or the property must suffer, unless some very particular provision enables him to maintain it.”

He returned to this subject whenever they had an opportunity for a tête-à-tête until Sir Frederick was compelled to consider that if anything should happen to him (though he would never consider this prospect as imminent), Charles, with a wife and four children, might find the family property to be an encumbrance if he had not the money to keep it up.

Sir Frederick’s will had been drawn some time before his marriage and had been influenced, in the disposition of his fortune, by the principles of his father, and stipulated that “all of my remaining fortune, exclusive of any portions assigned by marriage settlement and individual bequests named herein, is bequeathed to my Heir,” but of late he had given some thought to making a more equitable division of his fortune. “When we were first obliged to retrench,” he said to Charles, with no shade of reproach in his voice, “there was no possibility of enriching them beyond what had previously been settled. But in the years since, my circumstances have so much improved that I think I must set aside some portion that would ensure the comfort of my wife and settle something beyond two thousand pounds upon Frederica.”

“There will be leisure to attend to business when you are completely well,” urged his brother. “Remember that if some dire circumstance should leave my sister a widow, she would never be without a home, for the house in town is settled upon her.”

“Yes, very true,” replied Sir Frederick. “And yet a house in town can no more be kept up than a house in the country if one has not the means.”

Charles hastened to relieve his brother on this point with promises of liberality and assistance, though keeping to very general terms and avoiding the mention of any fixed sum. “What more pressing obligation can a gentleman have than to see that his brother’s widow and child are provided for? You must not suppose for an instant that I would ever neglect my obligation there—do not think for an instant that you must go to the trouble of setting anything down, for is not the word of a brother as firm as pen to paper? You have only to think what you would do for Catherine and my children to comprehend what I would do for Lady Vernon and my niece.”

This declaration rendered Sir Frederick easy—he likened his brother’s exertions to what his own would be, and so believed that the comfort of his wife and daughter were assured. Charles Vernon could not be unaffected by how readily Sir Frederick was lulled back into complacency and trust, which produced an unfamiliar warmth of feeling that persuaded him that he was almost capable of generosity.

  Sir James was a very faithful correspondent, and as winter gave way to spring, he reminded Lady Vernon of her promise to bring the family to Ealing Park. All arrangements for Frederick’s particular comfort will be made ready as soon as you name the date, he wrote to his cousin.

             For our tenants’ sake, it cannot be too soon. All of them who have had the goodness to fall ill over the winter have got better and Mother is left without anyone to put on the mend. If you do not come, I fear that she will give a pinch of bane to the groom for the pleasure of nursing him back to health.

Lady Martin’s letters were more direct.

Lady Vernon read the last portion of this letter to Frederica. “I am inclined to agree with my aunt, Frederica. You have been so little in society. At school, you would learn to be more at ease among people of your own age and better able to deal with those who are different or difficult.”

“It is too much trouble to meet people who are different and best to avoid those who are difficult,” replied Frederica.

“You cannot always be at Churchill.”

“What a great pity it is that I was not a boy. Then our property would be secure, and I should not have to go anywhere at all.”

“It is not a pity,” Lady Vernon replied with a smile. “We would not exchange you for a dozen sons. But the day will come when Churchill is no longer your home. You will be well married, and I will come to your grand estate and take possession of some little set of rooms and spoil your children and plague your husband.”

At last, Frederica was compelled to smile. “But what of Miss Wilson? I should be very sorry to think of her being cast out into the world.”

“And so would I, but it seems that Dr. Bentley has tended to other matters while he has been with us. He has made his proposals to Deane and my dear Deane has accepted him. If Miss Wilson will not think it a very great degradation to go from your governess to my lady’s maid, she may condescend to remain. Her steadiness and good character have been a great comfort to me these many months.”

In the first week in April, Dr. Bentley and the surgeon determined that Sir Frederick was strong enough to travel, and a party consisting of Sir Frederick, Lady Vernon, Miss Vernon, Dr. Bentley, and Miss Deane left Sussex for Derbyshire.

When the carriage drew up to the great house, Lady Martin herself came out to greet them, and looking over Sir Frederick with a sharp eye, she declared, “Why, you are worn to nothing! You must go right to your chamber and I will have a dish of beef tea sent up to you at once!”

When Sir Frederick had been dispatched, Lady Martin looked over Lady Vernon and her daughter. “Ah,” she said to the former, “it is a blessing that you have your mother’s looks. Her family were Osbournes and the Osbourne looks would stand up to any trial! Frederica, go to the greenhouse and have the gardener show you the geraniums that you helped him get into bloom—they have got as big as cabbages!”

“I would prefer to go up to my father, if you please, ma’am.”

“Well, go then. I will have Cook send up a portion of plum cake and you may toast a slice of it for your father. One slice will do him no harm.”

Frederica made a hasty curtsy and hurried off to her father’s chamber.

Lady Martin took her niece into the parlor and scrutinized her thoroughly. “And what is the true state of Frederick’s health? Dr. Bentley had written that he had no illness of an infectious nature—why does he not improve more rapidly?”