Clara felt herself to be a coward as the Aylmer Park carriage, which had been sent to meet her at the station, was drawn up at Sir Anthony Aylmer’s door. She had made up her mind that she would not bow down to Lady Aylmer, and yet she was afraid of the woman. As she got out of the carriage, she looked up, expecting to see her in the hall; but Lady Aylmer was too accurately acquainted with the weights and measures of society for any such movement as that. Had her son brought Lady Emily to the house as his future bride, Lady Aylmer would probably have been in the hall when the arrival took place; and had Clara possessed ten thousand pounds of her own, she would probably have been met at the drawing-room door; but as she had neither money nor title as she in fact brought with her no advantages of any sort Lady Aylmer was found stitching a bit of worsted, as though she had expected no one to come to her. And Belinda Aylmer was stitching also by special order from her mother. The reader will remember that Lady Aylmer was not without strong hope that the engagement might even yet be broken off. Snubbing, she thought, might probably be efficacious to this purpose, and so Clara was to be snubbed.
Clara, who had just promised to do her best to gain Lady Aylmer’s opinion, and who desired to be in some way true to her promise, though she thoroughly believed that her labour would be in vain, put on her pleasantest smile as she entered the room. Belinda, under the pressure of the circumstances, forgetting somewhat of her mother’s injunctions, hurried to the door to welcome the stranger. Lady Aylmer kept her chair, and even maintained her stitch, till Clara was half across the room. Then she got up, and with great mastery over her voice, made her little speech.
‘We are delighted to see you, Miss Amedroz,’ she said, putting out her hand of which Clara, however, felt no more than the finger.
‘Quite delighted,’ said Belinda, yielding a fuller grasp. Then there were affectionate greetings between Frederic and his mother and Frederic and his sister, during which Clara stood by, ill at ease. Captain Aylmer said not a word as to the footing on which his future wife had come to his father’s house. He did not ask his mother to receive her as another daughter, or his sister to take his Clara to her heart as a sister. There had been no word spoken of recognized intimacy. Clara knew that the Aylmers were cold people. She had learned as much as that from Captain Aylmer’s words to herself, and from his own manner. But she had not expected to be so frozen by them as was the case with her now. In ten minutes she was sitting down with her bonnet still on, and Lady Aylmer was again at her stitches.
‘Shall I show you your room?’ said Belinda.
‘Wait a moment, my dear,’ said Lady Aylmer. ‘Frederic has gone to see if Sir Anthony is in his study.’
Sir Anthony was found in his study, and now made his appearance.
‘So this is Clara Amedroz,’ he said. ‘My dear, you are welcome to Aylmer Park.’ This was so much better, that the kindness expressed though there was nothing special in it brought a tear into Clara’s eye, and almost made her love Sir Anthony.
‘By the by, Sir Anthony, have you seen Darvel? Darvel was wanting to see you especially about Nuggins. Nuggins says that he’ll take the bullocks now.’ This was said by Lady Aylmer, and was skilfully arranged by her to put a stop to anything like enthusiasm on the part of Sir Anthony. Clara Amedroz had been invited to Aylmer Park, and was to be entertained there, but it would not be expedient that she should be made to think that anybody was particularly glad to see her, or that the family was at all proud of the proposed connexion. Within five minutes after this she was up in her room, and had received from Belinda tenders of assistance as to her lady’s maid. Both the mother and daughter had been anxious to learn whether Clara would bring her own maid. Lady Aylmer, thinking that she would do so, had already blamed her for extravagance. ‘Of course Fred will have to pay for the journey and all the rest of it,’ she had said. But as soon as she had perceived that Clara had come without a servant, she had perceived that any young woman who travelled in that way must be unfit to be mated with her son. Clara, whose intelligence in such matters was sharp enough, assured Belinda that she wanted no assistance. ‘I dare say you think it very odd,’ she said, ‘but I really can dress myself.’ And when the maid did come to unpack the things, Clara would have sent her away at once had she been able. But the maid, who was not a young woman, was obdurate. ‘Oh no, miss; my lady wouldn’t be pleased. If you please, miss, I’ll do it.’ And so the things were unpacked.
Clara was told that they dined at half-past seven, and she remained alone in her room till dinner — time, although it had not yet struck five when she had gone upstairs. The maid had brought her up a cup of tea, and she seated herself at her fire, turning over in her mind the different members of the household in which she found herself. It would never do. She told herself over and over again that it would never come to pass that that woman should be her mother-inlaw, or that that other woman should be her sister. It was manifest to her that she was distasteful to them; and she had not lost a moment in assuring herself that they were distasteful to her. What purpose could it answer that she should strive not to like them, for no such strife was possible but to appear to like them? The whole place and everything about it was antipathetic to her. Would it not be simply honest to Captain Aylmer that she should tell him so at once, and go away? Then she remembered that Frederic had not spoken to her a single word since she had been under his father’s roof. What sort of welcome would have been accorded to her had she chosen to go down to Plaistow Hall?
At half-past seven she made her way by herself downstairs. In this there was some difficulty, as she remembered nothing of the rooms below, and she could not at first find a servant. But a man at last did come to her in the hall, and by him she was shown into the drawing-room. Here she was alone for a few minutes. As she looked about her, she thought that no room she had ever seen had less of the comfort of habitation. It was not here that she had met Lady Aylmer before dinner. There had, at any rate, been in that other room work things, and the look of life which life gives to a room. But here there was no life. The furniture was all in its place, and everything was cold and grand and comfortless. They were making company of her at Aylmer Park!
Clara was intelligent in such matters, and understood it all thoroughly.
Lady Aylmer was the first person to come to her. ‘I hope my maid has been with you,’ said she to which Clara muttered something intended for thanks. ‘You’ll find Richards a very clever woman, and quite a proper person.’
‘I don’t at all doubt that.’
‘She has been here a good many years, and has perhaps little ways of her own but she means to be obliging.’
‘I shall give her very little trouble, Lady Aylmer. I am used to dress myself.’ I am afraid this was not exactly true as to Clara’s past habits; but she could dress herself, and intended to do so in future, and in this way justified the assertion to herself.
‘You had better let Richards come to you, my dear, while you are here,’ said Lady Aylmer, with a slight smile on her countenance which outraged Clara more even than the words. ‘We like to see young ladies nicely dressed here.’ To be told that she was to be nicely dressed because she was at Aylmer Park! Her whole heart was already up in rebellion. Do her best to please Lady Aylmer! It would be utterly impossible to her to make any attempt whatever in that direction. There was something in her ladyship’s eye a certain mixture of cunning, and power, and hardness in the slight smile that would gather round her mouth, by which Clara was revolted. She already understood much of Lady Aylmer, but in one thing she was mistaken. She thought that she saw simply the natural woman; but she did, in truth, see the woman specially armed with an intention of being disagreeable, made up to give offence, and prepared to create dislike and enmity. At the present moment nothing further was said, as Captain Aylmer entered the room, and his mother immediately began to talk to him in whispers.
The first two days of Clara’s sojourn at Aylmer Park passed by without the occurrence of anything that was remarkable. That which most surprised and annoyed her, as regarded her own position, was the coldness of all the people around her, as connected with the actual fact of her engagement. Sir Anthony was very courteous to her, but had never as yet once alluded to the fact that she was to become one of his family as his daughter-inlaw. Lady Aylmer called her Miss Amedroz using the name with a peculiar emphasis, as though determined to show that Miss Amedroz was to be Miss Amedroz as far as any one at Aylmer Park was concerned and treated her almost as though her presence in the house was intrusive. Belinda was as cold as her mother in her mother’s presence; but when alone with Clara would thaw a little. She, in her difficulty, studiously avoided calling the new-corner by any name at all. As to Captain Aylmer, it was manifest to Clara that he was suffering almost more than she suffered herself. His position was so painful that she absolutely pitied him for the misery to which he was subjected by his own mother. They still called each other Frederic and Clara, and that was the only sign of special friendship which manifested itself between them. And Clara, though she pitied him, could not but learn to despise him. She had hitherto given him credit at any rate for a will of his own. She had believed him to be a man able to act in accordance with the dictates of his own conscience. But now she perceived him to be so subject to his mother that he did not dare to call his heart his own. What was to be the end of it all? And if there could only be one end, would it not be well that that end should be reached at once, so that she might escape from her purgatory?
But on the afternoon of the third day there seemed to have come a change over Lady Aylmer. At lunch she was especially civil civil to the extent of picking out herself for Clara, with her own fork, the breast of a hashed fowl from a dish that was before her. This she did with considerable care I may say, with a show of care; and then, though she did not absolutely call Clara by her Christian name, she did call her ‘my dear’. Clara saw it all, and felt that the usual placidity of the afternoon would be broken by some special event. At three o’clock, when the carriage as usual came to the door, Belinda was out of the way, and Clara was made to understand that she and Lady Aylmer were to be driven out without any other companion. ‘Belinda is a little busy, my dear. So, if you don’t mind, we’ll go alone.’ Clara of course assented, and got into the carriage with a conviction that now she would hear her fate. She was rather inclined to think that Lady Aylmer was about to tell her that she had failed in obtaining the approbation of Aylmer Park, and that she must be returned as goods of a description inferior to the order given. If such were the case, the breast of the chicken had no doubt been administered as consolation. Clara had endeavoured, since she had been at Aylmer Park, to investigate her own feelings in reference to Captain Aylmer; but had failed, and knew that she had failed. She wished to think that she loved him, as she could not endure the thought of having accepted a man whom she did not love. And she told herself that he bad done nothing to forfeit her love. A woman who really loves will hardly allow that her love should be forfeited by any fault. True love breeds forgiveness for all faults. And, after all, of what fault had Captain Aylmer been guilty? He had preached to her out of his mother’s mouth. That had been all! She had first accepted him, and then rejected him, and then accepted him again; and now she would fain be firm, if firmness were only possible to her. Nevertheless, if she were told that she was to be returned as inferior, she would hold up her head under such disgrace as best she might, and would not let the tidings break her heart.
‘My dear,’ said Lady Aylmer, as soon as the trotting horses and rolling wheels made noise enough to prevent her words from reaching the servants on the box. ‘I want to say a few words to you and I think that this will be a good opportunity.’
‘A very good opportunity,’ said Clara.
‘Of course, my dear, you are aware that I have heard of something going on between you and my son Frederic.’ Now that Lady Aylmer had taught herself to call Clara ‘my dear’, it seemed that she could hardly call her so often enough.
‘Of course I know that Captain Aylmer has told you of our engagement. But for that, I should not be here.’
‘I don’t know how that might be,’ said Lady Aylmer; ‘but at any rate, my dear, he has told me that since the day of my sister’s death there has been in point of fact, a sort of engagement.’
‘I don’t think Captain Aylmer has spoken of it in that way.’
‘In what way? Of course he has not said a word that was not nice and lover-like, and all that sort of thing. I believe he would have done anything in the world that his aunt had told him; and as to his’
‘Lady Aylmer!’ said Clara, feeling that her voice was almost trembling with anger,’ I am sure you cannot intend to be unkind to me?’
‘Certainly not.’
‘Or to insult me?’
‘Insult you, my dear! You should not use such strong words, my dear; indeed you should not. Nothing of the kind is near my thoughts.’
‘If you disapprove of my mar............