She showed an informed and discerning interest in each topic that arose in the course of our discussion, and we soon found that our views on the merits or otherwise of various authors and artists coincided most fortuitously; little by little, we began to speak like two people who had silently acknowledged a mutual liking for each other. Then Mademoiselle Buisson returned to where we were sitting.
‘It is getting a little cold, ma chère,’ she said, taking her friend by the hand to encourage her to stand up, ‘and I am hungry. Shall we go back? My compliments to you, Mr Glapthorn. I can see by her face that Emily has benefited from her conversation with you. What were you talking about?’
‘Nothing that would interest you, dear,’ said Miss Carteret as she pulled her shawl round her. ‘We have been quite serious, haven’t we, Mr Glapthorn?’
‘And yet it has made you happy,’ observed Mademoiselle thoughtfully. ‘You must visit her again soon, Mr Glapthorn, and be serious once more, and then I shall not worry about her when I return home.’
We walked back to Wilton-crescent in high spirits, with Mademoiselle chattering and laughing, Miss Carteret smiling with quiet satisfaction, whilst I glowed inside with a new happiness.
When we reached the house, Mademoiselle skipped nimbly up the steps.
‘Good-bye, Mr Glapthorn,’ she called back from the front door. Then she stopped and thought for a moment. ‘It is a curious name, is it not? Glapthorn. Most curious, and most suitable for a dark horse.’ And with that, she disappeared into the house, laughing.
I turned to Miss Carteret.
‘May I call again?’
She offered her hand to me, which I took in mine, and held for a most precious moment.
‘Do you need to ask?’
*[‘Love is a credulous thing’. Ed.]
*[‘Emily, my dear, aren’t you going to introduce me to this gentleman?’ Ed.
*[The pseudonym, of course, of Charlotte Brontë. Villette was published in January 1853. Ed.]
†[In Memoriam A.H.H. (i.e. Arthur Henry Hallam, 1811–33) was published by Edward Moxon (Daunt’s publisher) in 1850, the year that Tennyson was appointed Poet Laureate following the death of Wordsworth. Ed.]
‡[The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, founded in 1848 by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828–82), John Everett Millais (1829–96), William Holman Hunt (1827–1910), and others. Ed.]
36
Amor vincit omnia*
I paid my second visit to Wilton-crescent the following Friday, my heart full of bright hope that Miss Carteret would receive me with the same warmth with which our last meeting had concluded. I was more in love with her than ever; and now I was beginning to allow myself to believe that, in time, she might love me too. On this occasion, I was introduced to Mrs Fletcher Manners – a bustling, pretty-looking woman, only half a dozen years or so older than her niece – and invited to take luncheon with the two ladies. Afterwards, when Mrs Manners left to pay her afternoon calls, Miss Carteret and I were left alone in the drawing-room.
‘This has been most delightful, Mr Glapthorn,’ she said, as soon as her aunt had gone. ‘But I’m afraid I shall be returning to Evenwood tomorrow, and so will not have the pleasure of receiving you again for some time – unless …’
I immediately took the hint.
‘It is possible that I may have occasion to visit Evenwood in the near future. Dr Daunt and I are slaves to the bibliophilic passion – I mean that we love old books, and share a number of other antiquarian and scholarly interests. He has asked me to look over the proofs of a translation that he has prepared, and it will be best if I return these to him in person. When I do so, perhaps you would not mind if I called at the Dower House.’
‘You would be most welcome,’ she said. Then she sighed. ‘Though I do not know how much longer I shall be able to call the Dower House my home. Sir Hyde Teasedale has expressed a wish to acquire the tenancy for his daughter, who is soon to be married; and I fear Lord Tansor will look upon a paying tenant with rather more favour than a dependent relative.’
‘But he will not turn you out, surely?’
‘No, I am sure he will not. But I have little money of my own and will be unable to match the price that Sir Hyde is willing to pay for the let of the property.’
‘Then Lord Tansor must find you somewhere else. Has he spoken to you on this subject?’
‘Only briefly. But let us not be gloomy. Lord Tansor will not let me starve, I am sure.’
We conversed for a little longer, and I experienced again, as I had done by the Serpentine the previous week, that luxurious sense of having her all to myself. A little of her old reserve yet remained; but I left the house that afternoon emboldened by the cordiality of her manner towards me, and feeling hope rise within me that I did not love her in vain.
I immediately wrote to Dr Daunt, and it was arranged that I would go up to Northamptonshire with the proofs of his translation the Thursday following, being the first day of December.
The Rector and I passed a stimulating afternoon discussing Iamblichus, and Dr Daunt professed himself in my debt for the few trifling amendments to his translation and commentary that I had ventured to suggest.
‘This has been most kind of you, Mr Glapthorn,’ he said, ‘most kind. I have given you a deal of trouble, I dare say. And a trip to the country in such weather is doubly burdensome.’
It was blowing hard outside, as it had been for a day or more, and the accompanying rain had turned the surrounding roads and tracks into quagmires.
‘Pray do not mention it,’ I replied. ‘I am willing to endure any discomfort for the sake of learning, and for the prospect of such a conversation as we have enjoyed this afternoon.’
‘You are kind to say so. But will you stay and take some tea? I am afraid my wife is not at home, and my son is abroad, on a lecture tour; so it will be just us two. But I can dangle a little temptation before you – a particularly fine copy of Quarles’s Hieroglyphikes* that I have lately acquired, on which I’d value your opinion, if you have no more pressing engagement.’
I could not refuse the good old gentleman, and so tea was called for and taken, and the work in question produced and discussed, followed by several others of a similar character. It was not until a little after four o’clock, as darkness fell, that I made my escape.
The wind was blowing in strong gusts from the east, lashing the rain against my face as I picked my way through the slippery ruts of the track that led from the Rectory to the Dower House. With the rain coming on suddenly harder, I abandoned my original intention of walking round to the front of the house, and ran as fast as I could across the stable-yard to knock on the kitchen door, which was soon opened by Mrs Rowthorn.
‘Mr Glapthorn, sir, come in, come in.’ She ushered me inside, where I found John Brine warming his toes by the kitchen fire.
‘Were you expected, sir?’ asked the housekeeper.
‘I’ve been at the Rectory and wished to pay my compliments to Miss Carteret, if she is at home, before I return to Easton.’
‘Oh yes, sir, she’s at home. Would you like to come up and wait?’
‘Perhaps I could dry myself by the fire for five minutes first,’ I said, taking off my coat and walking over to stand next to where John Brine was sitting. After a minute or two, Mrs Rowthorn scuttled upstairs on some errand, giving me the opportunity to ask Brine whether he had any news.
‘Nothing much to tell, sir. Miss Carteret has kept to the house these past few days, and has received only Mrs Daunt, who has been twice now since Miss came back from London. Mr Phoebus Daunt, as you know, will not return for some weeks.’