Cecilia continued in this private spot, happy at least to be alone, till she was summoned by the dinner bell to return home.
As soon as she entered the parlour, where every body was assembled
before her, she observed, by the countenance of Mrs Delvile, that she
had passed the morning as sadly as herself.
"Miss Beverley," cried Lady Honoria, before she was seated, "I insist
upon your taking my place to-day." "Why so, madam?"
"Because I cannot suffer you to sit by a window with such a terrible
cold."
"Your ladyship is very good, but indeed I have not any cold at all."
"O my dear, I must beg your pardon there; your eyes are quite
bloodshot; Mrs Delvile, Lord Ernolf, are not her eyes quite red?—
Lord, and so I protest are her cheeks! now do pray look in the glass, I assure you you will hardly know yourself."
Mrs Delvile, who regarded her with the utmost kindness, affected to
understand Lady Honoria's speech literally, both to lessen her
apparent confusion, and the suspicious surmises of Lord Ernolf; she
therefore said, "you have indeed a bad cold, my love; but shade your
eyes with your hat, and after dinner you shall bathe them in rose
water, which will soon take off the inflammation."
Cecilia, perceiving her intention, for which she felt the utmost
gratitude, no longer denied her cold, nor refused the offer of Lady
Honoria: who, delighting in mischief, whencesoever it proceeded, presently added, "This cold is a judgment upon you for leaving me alone all this morning; but I suppose you chose a tête-à-tête with your favourite, without the intrusion of any third person."
Here every body stared, and Cecilia very seriously declared she had
been quite alone.
"Is it possible you can so forget yourself?" cried Lady Honoria; "had
you not your dearly beloved with you?"
Cecilia, who now comprehended that she meant Fidel, coloured more
deeply than ever, but attempted to laugh, and began eating her dinner.
"Here seems some matter of much intricacy," cried Lord Ernolf, "but, to me, wholly unintelligible."
"And to me also," cried Mrs Delvile, "but I am content to let it
remain so; for the mysteries of Lady Honoria are so frequent, that
they deaden curiosity."
"Dear madam, that is very unnatural," cried Lady Honoria, "for I am
sure you must long to know who I mean."
"I do, at least," said Lord Ernolf.
"Why then, my lord, you must know, Miss Beverley has two companions, and I am one, and Fidel is the other; but Fidel was with her all this morning, and she would not admit me to the conference. I suppose she had something private to say to him of his master's journey."
"What rattle is this?" cried Mrs Delvile; "Fidel is gone with my son, is he not?" turning to the servants.
"No, madam, Mr Mortimer did not enquire for him."
"That's very strange," said she, "I never knew him quit home without
him before."
"Dear ma'am, if he had taken him," cried Lady Honoria, "what could
poor Miss Beverley have done? for she has no friend here but him and
me, and really he's so much the greater favourite, that it is well if
I do not poison him some day for very spite."
Cecilia had no resource but in forcing a laugh, and Mrs Delvile, who
evidently felt for her, contrived soon to change the subject: yet not
before Lord Ernolf, with infinite chagrin, was certain by all that
passed of the hopeless state of affairs for his son.
The rest of the day, and every hour of the two days following, Cecilia
passed in the most comfortless constraint, fearful of being a moment
alone, lest the heaviness of her heart should seek relief in tears, which consolation, melancholy as it was, she found too dangerous for indulgence: yet the gaiety of Lady Honoria lost all power of entertainment, and even the kindness of Mrs Delvile, now she imputed it to compassion, gave her more mortification than pleasure.
On the third day, letters arrived from Bristol: but they brought with
them nothing of comfort, for though Mortimer wrote gaily, his father
sent word that his fever seemed threatening to return.