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Mrs Manwaring to Mrs Johnson.
Langford.
My dear Friend, I was quite astonished, (and I may even say broken-hearted, if a heart can break any more than mine has done in the last fortnight), at your meeting with Lady Susan on her removal from Langford—and to tell me of it as you did! It must be better than secrecy—I am particularly sensitive to any thing like secrecy just now, and am quite determined that there is nothing worse.—But the sight of those words—! When I first read them, I could almost have said I should never forgive you for it. How you can endure continued intimacy with such a woman, knowing what she has done!—My note, perhaps, had not reached you quite yet, but all the letters before! I could not tell all, or even most, in those, but even the least knowledge (and I am sure you had not less) must have been enough, when the case is so plain as her’s.
Disregard your husband’s judgement if you must,—I have done it very often myself, and woman, you know, is always the best judge of woman.—but do not ignore me. You see what she has accomplished in but three months at Langford, and Mr Manwaring’s attachment to myself—which has, excepting her intrusion, been a model of constancy—cannot have been a particularly small obstacle to overcome in that little time. My dear guardian, I suppose, can be under no great threat,—I can hardly count the reasons for it, but I trust you will understand.—yet there is (you must agree with me) when it comes to Lady Susan no real possibility of supposing what she might carry off once she decides upon it. Neither principle nor inability restrain her. She will do for ever exactly as she likes. That, at least, is all that I could feel at all assured of were she ever—though it is, of course, entirely out of the question—again admitted to Langford. Then, I did not hear of her at Edward Street, and so any warning here might be unnecessary to you. If such half measures can stop her, we must both be the happier for it.
Yet it grieves me beyond words, my dear Alicia, to think of you together, I will not deny it. I cannot picture it without thinking of those thousand occasions which brought us all three together in perfect happiness. Those scenes can never pass again. She has chosen that. But you must (so every body tells me) be allowed to chuse your own society.—I know your other friends too well to fancy that you really shall be allowed any thing of the kind, but if you are denied the power, it shall never be by me. All I wish is to do my duty to you as one very sincerely attached—to express to you the enormous danger in any thing like friendship with such a character.
Will you believe me? If your friendship with that woman has been at all like my own, you have heard a great deal against her already (though I confess I had never before heard any thing even half so shocking as what she has done now, not only unto some passing acquaintance nobody cares for, but truly as friend unto friend), and probably said equally as much against it in turn. Lady Susan was but a very few months ago every bit as dear to me as she can ever have been to you, and many an unfortunate whisper did I answer with every assurance I long to give you now. But I cannot. I have seen it and suffered from it to such a degree as I will never forget, and darling Maria will tell you just the same herself, you may ask her. Pray do not ask her, however; she is nearly as wretched over her beau as possible, and all the labour in the world has failed to restore her spirits. My present sensations (which are quite as dreadful as you can imagine) are positively joyful by comparison. Mr Manwaring’s contrition, by the bye, is every thing one could wish. Since Christmas Eve, he has been perfectly desponding, such as can only come from the most sincere regret of having been led so terribly astray. Of course, I shall never really trust him again, but there is a great consolation in a misery so equally shared.
Give my best love to my dear guardian, and to any one else who might come in your way to merit it. You know very well who should not.
Your’s most affectionately,
Caroline Manwaring.
Mrs Johnson to Mrs Manwaring.
Edward Street.
Dearest Caroline, I am most gratified to receive your confidence, which I have sometimes feared lost to me for ever, sorry though I certainly am that it should be offered under such circumstances, and I must congratulate you on your self-command. Your last pages, I am sorry to say, were almost beyond my comprehension. For all my striving, I could grasp only the barest fact that something perfectly unaccountable had occurred to leave the whole Langford party in terrible distress. I will not offer my hopes that my answer provided some consolation. In writing it, I understood, even in the absence of all other understanding, that you were absolutely inconsolable. You had, I am sure, every reason for hysterics, and that you are now able to so rationally express those few remaining anxieties does you the greatest credit. This brings me to the matter of the recent departure from Langford. On that subject, I must say I know far less than you seem to suppose, and your tender heart and natural delicacy must prevent you from disclosing more than you have done. If you think the lady’s conduct so abominable as to remove her from Langford on account of it, however, I am sure you must be right.
It will not, at any rate, be in my power to meet with Lady Susan for some weeks. Having deposited her dear Frederica in the care of a school in town, she prefers at present the retirement of a family party, which you must credit, my darling Caroline, quite as much as I. Pained as we both are by her absence, we may take comfort in the knowledge that a removal from the bustle and noise of town to Churchill will do our friend good. It is not Vernon Castle, to be sure, but afflicted as any woman must be, so soon after her poor husband’s death, any connexion of his must be peculiarly interesting to her.
Retirement, I find, is always the best cure in such cases. In that one respect, I advise you all to take our friend for a model; remain from town until even your Mr Manwaring, penitent as he must and should be, has found some degree of equanimity. Miss Manwaring, of course, must be allowed the usual amusements of the season, and a complete withdrawal from society can do nothing to extinguish those unhappy conjectures which must naturally arise from what is generally known—but delay, my friend, so much as you are able, until all your spirits are tolerably recovered. We will then look forward with great happiness to receiving you at Edward Street.
Your’s ever,
Alicia Johnson.
Mrs Manwaring to Mrs Johnson.
Langford.
For a great many weeks, my dear Friend, we have taken your advice absolutely to heart, and hardly strayed out of doors but for the usual engagements which every body must attend to, (and which really must make one far more miserable to abstain from than to join), even in the worst of spirits. London, however, has been unseen by any of us. Maria has talked of it every day, of course, but with very great restraint, and thinking only of the most practical matters, for she has not the heart to think of any thing more, and she really must have the proper clothes for the place when we go at last, besides. I myself have grown so strong of late as to believe the occasion not so very distant.—But Mr Manwaring, whose spirits have but lately made a full recovery, finds it impossible to delay. He has left for town again this morning, on some business I did not at all comprehend, and which could not be put off a moment, (as is always the case in the business that is for ever sending husbands here or there, and, so far as I have ever been able to tell, means less than nothing as to the length or importance of the errand). He will call at Edward Street sooner or later, I am sure, and when he does, I leave it to you to tell me how he does—if he is quite well, or if there is some reason to fear for his being under some corrupting influence or other. For my part (and who could know better?), I am certain there is something amiss, if for no other reason, then because he has not the least right to such spirits, when he has quite broken his wife’s heart, and, when one thinks as seriously about it as I have had the occasion to do, he has broken his sister’s, too, for his association with that woman can hardly leave him blameless in any thing she wrought in those wretched weeks with us. No, he is too cheerful by far to be trusted. Had he even the good sense to detest business for its own sake (which is asking extremely little), I might have ventured to believe him—but this is really going too far. You must find them out, and stop them. I put my faith entirely in you. Best love, &c. from those who remain at Langford.
Your’s affectionately,
Caroline.
Mrs Johnson to Mrs Manwaring.
Edward Street.
My dear Caroline,—How many of our little circle—you will forgive me, I hope, for cherishing still some thought of it as ours—are all this moment in town! Unable as I regrettably am to accommodate her at Edward Street, I have assisted Lady Susan in procuring an apartment in Upper Seymour Street, where she has already enjoyed the company of no small number of old friends. I was myself among the first to call.—No, do not blame me. There are forms of conduct which must be observed, and you must, I fancy, comprehend the great value in maintaining an intimacy with so old and dear a friend as she, even if you will not. Necessary though her visit to Churchill may well have been, there are some people for whom society is the best possible cure for any ill that may be in the case. Whether the same should be true for yourself and dear Miss Manwaring, I do not venture to suppose. If however, you find it to be so, I can only repeat my earlier wish of seeing you very soon at Edward Street. In this I am very far from alone. I come to a difficult subject, but my conscience compels me to speak: Would you ever, if only for the sake of putting those old resentments and anxieties to rest, consider calling at Upper Seymour Street?
As for Mr Manwaring’s business in town, which has given you so much concern of late, we have received him here more than once,—I really could not turn him away, once so commissioned by you, for all Mr Johnson’s resentment—and I have only ever found him as himself, just as I have ever known him. But it can be no secret from him that it is you, dear Caroline, we love best—and therefore, if there is some concealment of his ways or of his friends, we cannot possibly suppose ourselves his confidants. I was not, however, able to quite catch his purpose, or how long he supposed he might be in town. I turn the question therefore to you: Has he been at all at home? If he has, you must have asked his man all you could wish to know already. Servants can never hold their tongues. If he has given a tolerable account of his master’s comings and goings since his being in town, you have every reason to be easy. In any case, do not distress yourself. If you will not trust in Mr Manwaring, trust in the effects of time and exertion.
What I have now said, however, is all that is in my power to do for you. You know too well what little truly belongs to woman, where her husband is at all concerned. Mr Johnson, however, may do more, and I urge you from my heart to ask it of him. As for myself, I have always had the deepest sympathy for your choice, for it is not any young lady who would prefer a Mr Manwaring to a Lord F—. You will remember, perhaps, that I have not always considered it your best choice, and I do not know now, with all the advantage of hindsight, that you are much disposed to disagree; but good or bad, a choice of principle it was, and on those grounds, it must be esteemed. No one can know better than you and I that your guardian does not share all our romantic ideals, but he is not at all without feeling. Pour your heart out to him, my dearest Caroline, with all that overflow of energy you once employed in opposition to him, and every thing in his power shall be done for you.
Your’s ever,
A. J.
Mrs Manwaring to Mrs Johnson.
Langford.
My dear Friend,—I am overwhelmed by your gracious counsel, and hardly know how to respond to half of it, though of course, my heart overflows quite as equally with gratitude as grief. Certainly I have not asked his servant a word about my husband’s countless causes for conference in town. Even if he had been at home (which he really has not, and which I am rather surprized to discover you do not know yourself), I would never have thought to ask, would never have dared to ask, am positively amazed that you would suppose such a thing of me as actually to have done it. I have always found such arts entirely despicable, degrading to anyone who should stoop to use them.—The sort of art, I mean, which I suppose our old friend must always be involving herself with. To be sure, I put no faith in any of Mr Manwaring’s reports of business, and even less in Lady Susan’s respectability, and if that were the only question, perhaps there would be something in it. No one in the world could wish to see her exposed so much as myself, but to throw myself at the feet of a servant for information on my husband!—It is quite beyond any thing I should ever think of doing myself.
But you are very right that good society has been the balm to many a broken heart, and I do not see at all why it should be any less so with me. If it is at all within my power (and Mr Manwaring could hardly object), I shall be in London within a week, and absolutely recovered within a fortnight.—One person, however, I am quite sure I shall omit from my circle,—our circle, then, I suppose you really may call it, if you consent to the modification—and without the least regret. Her conduct towards me has been infamous, and utterly unforgivable, and if she is impudent enough to consider me uncivil for my display of principle, I do not think the world in general (wont though it is to blame every body for every thing entirely without any regard for the particulars of one’s situation) could blame me for it—and if it could, I want no part in it. Of all things, I hate contradicting you most of all, but here, I am perfectly decided. Edward Street, of course, must be among the first of my calls.
Your’s, most affectionately,
Caroline.
Mrs Johnson to Mrs Manwaring.
Edward Street.
Not for the world, my dear Caroline, would I desire you to undertake any action you believe contrary to your duty as a wife, or as a friend. Rather, act in your best interest, and in the interest of those you hold dear. You think very well in planning to join your friends in town—and you are quite right that Mr Manwaring could not object. Indeed, a surprize must be all the more agreeable to him. So truly missed by him as you really must be, the loss of even a day must be most seriously regretted.
I do not feel that you must reconcile with Lady Susan, if you do not wish it—but if you are to be in town, a visit, a mere visit, perhaps without even passing through the door, must be to your advantage. Make out nothing more than a shadow through the window, perhaps not even her own, and your mind and heart must be united in the pleasure of having put every thing to rest. If she is out, leave not even your card, if you think her undeserving of the civility. Indeed, you may find it imprudent, in full consideration of circumstances heretofore. You will not, for any body’s sake, want to give Mr Manwaring an idea of Lady Susan being in town, nor if he knows her to be there already, would you have him understand that she is at all restored to intimacy with you. A call from one of your party must authorise a call from any. I advise you therefore to wait until just after he has gone out for the morning before setting off yourself. Such secrecy, I know, must pain you exceedingly, but you may, I trust, be secure in the knowledge of its being no more than was done unto you.
I am afraid, my darling Caroline, if you are come to town this very moment, I may be unable to receive you quite as I should wish. I have in the coming week or two a great many engagements, and can keep nothing at all resembling my usual hours. Be assured, however, that Edward Street shall be for ever open to you. Mr Johnson is very bad with gout, and almost never from home. A tête-à-tête with you, of whom he has always been so particularly fond, must be his greatest relief, and the ability to be of any service to you, his greatest pleasure.
Your’s, &c.,
A. J.
Mrs Johnson to Lady Susan Vernon, unsent.
Edward Street.
My dearest Friend,—As I understand, you may expect two visitors from Langford in the coming days. I am sorry to say, I am not without blame in the case. At the time, I understood Mr De Courcy to be your object, and had some idea of your having thrown off Manwaring for good. To manage two such men, each believing himself proprietor of your heart, and entitled to every liberty on account of it, must be a tax even to your considerable talents. Should some terrible mischance bring them, some day or other, alone together,—or worse, together with yourself—discovery must be all but certain. This danger being so well understood by you, I surmised that the necessary pains had then been taken, to ensure the impossibility of such a meeting. Secure in this knowledge, I believed nothing could so well persuade Mrs Manwaring of her safety from you, as seeing you the darling object of a man twice Manwaring’s consequence, some twenty years his junior, and utterly unattached. I did not, therefore, discourage the plan, and I have reason to believe her now on the point of carrying it out. If, as I have now come to suppose, you have any expectation of a call from another member of that house, I must strongly caution you against allowing it.
Your’s faithfully,
Alicia.