Baconfield

"Is not marriage an open question, when it is alleged, from the beginning of the world, that such as are in the institution wish to get out, and such as are out wish to get in?"
-- Representative Men, Ralph Waldo Emerson

"It’s shameful, Mrs. Cassidy," whispered the younger black creped woman to the elder. "It certainly seems a waste of youth and beauty," the elder woman acquiesced, remembering herself as such at one point and knowing with some bitterness that it is always wasted. "Mr. Langley is an exemplary member of the Church, I believe, Mrs. Cassidy," a stout middle aged man corrected with the firm belief that ladies are forever dwelling on the unimportant things in life, rather than their spiritual destination. "Dr. Ploughman, you are very right. Yes, very right," the elder woman said, directing the reaffirmation at the younger lady, who upon closer inspection might have been her daughter with the familial pinched nose and piercing eyes. "All the same, I won’t be married to such an old curmudgeon," Miss Cassidy asserted with a slight tremor of rebellion. "Nor shall you be asked to, my dear," Mrs. Cassidy said, patting her niece’s pale hand. "But as I understand it," the doctor said, putting his thumbs into the pockets of his pants and speaking with a much used tone of authority that he assumed was warranted on such occasions, "the match was of the former Miss Dawson’s design. Or perhaps, when presented with the possibility of being chosen by Mr. Langley, she was more pleased with him than with any other younger man in the neighborhood." This bit of information was met with open-mouthed stares from both ladies, and secretly Miss Cassidy could not believe it.

Speaking alone in the parlor with her aunt after the wedding party had passed, Eloisa spoke with even more candor on the subject. "I don’t believe Miss Dawson could have ever chosen such a husband, ma’am." "Well, I have rarely known Dr. Ploughman to be wrong, my dear." "No, but he might see Mr. Langley in a different light than a young lady, you must allow," she continued to urge. Mrs. Cassidy, being without children herself, was excessively fond of the company of her niece, and therefore permitted the challenging of the usually irreproachable opinion and views of Dr. Ploughman. "There might be some misunderstanding, to be sure," she nodded, folding some sewing in her lap, pausing to think for one moment before shaking her finger in front of her. This mannerism always precipitated what Mrs. Cassidy thought to be a great enlightenment on whatever topic was at hand. "Miss Dawson has always been rather different from the average young lady. Her tastes might be beyond what you and I can comprehend." "I barely know her, I own. And, I suppose we shall learn soon enough how marriage suits them both," she said, reaching for the Bible that Mrs. Cassidy wished her to read aloud from every evening.

These two ladies were not in the minority in holding this view of the marriage of the former Miss Dawson to Mr. Langley. Only a few older gentlemen could look on it with any favor. Even Miss Dawson’s family was uncomfortable with the match: her immediate family consisted of her younger brother, Andrew, and her great-uncle, Sir Graham. Emily, eighteen at the time of her marriage, was of age and did not seek the advice of her younger brother, being two years his elder and feeling herself his superior in more than years. So, she was only vaguely aware of his dislike of Mr. Langley, which she attributed to his lack of understanding of the real things in life, such as education, spirituality, and wisdom. These, she felt sure, Mr. Langley had in abundance, and might share with her in time, as she would be a helpmate to him in his advancing years.

Sir Graham, advanced in years himself, had been weary of his headstrong grandniece since he inherited her upon the death of her mother some eight years earlier. Having always been a bachelor himself, he had been accustomed to having things as he liked, and Emily was continually trying to improve their situation, which only amounted to having things changed from the way he had always liked them to something new and disconcerting. Never much liking Mr. Langley himself, he thought the gentleman stern enough to produce the awe in his grandniece that he had never been able to achieve, being too much of a pigeon from having no experience consulting others’ opinions. Andrew, a much more agreeable youth, in Sir Graham’s eyes, would now go hunting and ride about the countryside, and he would be left much to himself again, only enjoying the occasional company of the young man, which would suit him much more. He had put his hand up, ceasing all discussion of the marriage, when Andrew had approached him about it, feeling the wash of relief more strongly over her disposal than his grandnephew’s concerns regarding the potential troubles that he foresaw in his sister’s future.

“She ’s adorned
Amply that in her husband’s eye looks lovely,—
The truest mirror that an honest wife
Can see her beauty in.”
-- The Honeymoon. Act iii. Sc. 4., John Tobin

Without a sister to join her on the honeymoon, Emily had to choose among her younger cousins, who lived in the cottage on Sir Graham’s estate within an easy walking distance of the house. Mrs. Munson’s three girls were all close in age to Emily and Andrew, which had prevented their living with the Munsons, even though Mrs. Munson was the Dawson children’s aunt by way of their mother. Mrs. Munson had put it to Sir Graham plainly upon the death of her sister: "If only my girls were younger, and Emily and Andrew some older. Emily might be of some help to me then, and Andrew would not be tempted to form an attachment with them. As it is, it is completely inappropriate, in addition to being too crowded a situation. Mr. Munson would be driven mad with all the commotion, and little Cathy would find Andrew’s teasing very hard. No, the children must live with you, uncle."

Emily preferred Elizabeth to her other two cousins, being the quietest and most serious of the three; and since both Julia and Elizabeth were out in public, she saw no harm in choosing the younger of the two. Emily was forever making these types of mistakes. It was very hard on Julia to be overlooked by her cousin, even though she did not wish to spend much time in the company of Mr. Langley. She felt, being the eldest, even by little less than a year, entitled her to the honor of accompanying the new Mrs. Langley to Brighton. She had complained to Andrew, "it does one no good to be sixteen. It apparently means nothing to your sister." Mrs. Munson and Andrew were in agreement with Julia, reasoning that she was not only older, but also a more pleasant holiday companion, but Emily remained largely ignorant of any such feelings on the subject. Only Mr. Munson, driven by worries beyond his wife’s understanding, could appreciate his niece’s choice of the quietly attentive Elizabeth.

Julia might have been more appropriate for the social setting of Brighton, but then Emily was never one for the social scenes as might be afforded in the bathing town and now that she was Mrs. Langley, she hoped to avoid such settings altogether. She had not chosen the destination of their honeymoon and had privately hoped for a trip to the Continent, so that she might learn through experience what she had not through her studies. Mr. Langley had not consulted her regarding their plans, and she was unaware that his health prevented them from making the trip that she truly desired. In fact, Mr. Langley saw Brighton as an ideal spot: he was told that young ladies enjoyed the town, and he might receive beneficial health results from the trip.

A week into the journey, Elizabeth inwardly began to lament that at least Julia might have found some joy in Brighton. Mr. Langley was so infrequently with them that she might not have even minded his presence. She was not the only one noticing his absence. Emily, believing that Mr. Langley would want to spend these hours by her side, begin to impart his wisdom, and allow her to provide him with some comfort that had previously been missing in his life, was somewhat alarmed at her husband’s aloof manners. He spent much of the day in his apartments, and whenever she would enter, he acted harassed by her presence, so that she would quickly retreat to Elizabeth’s companionship.

"Would you like me to read, cousin?" Elizabeth asked in her low tones, after her cousin had returned from such a venture and seemed more contemplative than ever. "Yes, pick up where we left off this morning," Emily nodded, brushing some dark hair away from her brow where it had come loose. Elizabeth noticed paleness about her cousin that worried her some, but she felt more comfortable reading than speaking of the awkward tension beginning to hover about the honeymoon apartment.

Elizabeth was not able to begin again, however, being interrupted by Mr. Langley’s woman servant entering. "May I call for a doctor, ma’am?" Emily stood, brow knitting. "Why, what is wrong?" "Mr. Langley has rung for me and he is quite out of breath. He cannot draw breath or speak." Both young girls now hurried for Mr. Langley’s apartment, Elizabeth pausing to say to Tintrup: "heavens, yes, call for a doctor!"

The sight of her husband sitting at his desk horrified Emily: he was purple and grasped at his chest. When she had agreed to marry Mr. Langley, she had thought that she would spend many years as a sponge, soaking up everything his advanced age and wisdom had to offer, and then after many years, she would be a nurse to him in his old age, lovingly helping him continue in comfort. She had grown somewhat dreamy, seeing herself in this role, where other girls might grow dreamy over thoughts of their young husband’s handsome riding attire and elegant horse. Growing up in a gentleman’s household, being young and full of health, Emily was little exposed to the realities of drawn out infirmity and now when she was faced with it, she was mildly repulsed. The young women stood helplessly watching, waiting for what seemed like hours, even while Mr. Langley slowly seemed to be regaining the ability to breathe without much struggle. Finally, they were able to help him from the desk to his bed in the adjoining room, where he slumped in a heap.

Tintrup returned with a young doctor, who could not be more than just past the mid-point of his twenties. Emily felt as if someone with some authority had entered into the madness and eagerly followed his instructions to take her cousin into the next room, where he would be with them as soon as possible. Emily’s pacing and slight tremors were making her sensitive cousin almost as nervous as the sight of the boated Mr. Langley had, so she excused herself, removing to her own apartment, where she was quickly interrupted by a quiet knock at the door. "Come in," she meekly answered, fearing her cousin had followed her. Tintrup stepped through the door, however, looking decidedly colorless. She had not been in Mr. Langley’s service long: the former woman-servant being of a middle age, Mr. Langley thought a younger woman might be more pleasing to his new bride, and so he chose the daughter of his former servant, preventing the removal of any income from the family. What was gained in equality, however, was lost in knowledge regarding the running of a household, in addition to the miscellaneous knowledge that a woman in such a position accumulates throughout her life. Elizabeth felt perhaps that Tintrup was as much at a loss as herself and her cousin.

"Excuse me, miss, but I’m a feared I might have done wrong." "Shut the door, Tintrup," Elizabeth said quietly, not wanting her cousin to be worried needlessly by the servant’s panic. "Dr. Fairmont didn’t even want to come, I don’t think," she whispered. Elizabeth was opening her mouth to speak, but Tintrup began again: "Not that Dr. Fairmont would ever refuse to help Mr. Langley. My mother always said that he was a very agreeable youth. He might not have done exactly what Mr. Langley required of him, but I’m sure he wouldn’t turn his back on kin." Elizabeth’s head began to swim with all this information. "Tintrup, start again, please. Mr. Langley is related to this doctor?" "Oh yes, Mr. Langley is his uncle on his mother’s side and he paid for all the doctor’s schooling, until he decided against the church in favor of the medical profession." Elizabeth thought to herself that it was the way of the world that the very thing you tried to discourage would come back to decide your own future. Elizabeth’s silence drove the young girl to speak: "I knew he’d removed to Brighton, and I think Mr. Langley might have received a letter from him before the wedding, wishing to be introduced to his wife, but I never posted a response..." Elizabeth finally cut her off by holding up her hand. "Perhaps this will bring on the reconciliation that the wedding itself did not. But never mind, you did no harm."

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever;
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness.”
--Endymion. Book i., John Keats

Sitting alone in the now early evening light that shone in through the window behind her, Emily was unaware of what a stunning figure she made. Blessed with all that Nature had to offer, Emily was not only intelligent and sensitive, she was slender and tall with the kind of silhouette that immediately draws the eye of everyone in a room. But in addition to all this she had the face of one who needs no ornamentation, being well balanced in shape, color, and framed by delicate dark curls. She spent little to no time on her toilette and smirked at those who did, not realizing that she too might fuss over herself, if she had not been so well made. Her great-uncle had made her the gift of several new gowns for her honeymoon, a gift that Emily did not see as entirely necessary, but they were simple and enough to her taste that she viewed them as at least somewhat practical. Little did she know that this particular eggshell blue dress would become her eternal attire in the persistent mind’s eye of one present that day. Had she known, the modest Mrs. Langley might have donned one of her cream colored muslins and covered herself in a shawl.

The trauma of the afternoon’s events had brought a heightened color to her cheeks and there was a feverish brightness to her deep blue eyes, which held Dr. Fairmont’s attention as nothing else could, considering the present situation. He walked briskly across the room to the new bride, who stood to meet him, as he put out his hand. "Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier. I am your husband’s nephew, Dr. Fairmont;" his tone was somewhat apologetic, which worried Emily. "Mr. Langley?" she asked mildly, some of her usual spark being extinguished not only by the shock of the day, but also by the continuous boredom of the past week. "I shall stay the night, if you do not mind, Mrs. Langley, merely to see him through. I do not actually foresee any further problems." He watched palpable relief spread over Emily’s countenance. "You must tell me everything, Dr. Fairmont. If you are his nephew, I know I can trust you to be truthful with me, for there can be no secrets between my husband and I."

Dr. Fairmont was somewhat confused by Mrs. Langley. It was true that he had applied to his uncle for the ability to wish him and his new bride good fortune, and it was largely due to a complete fascination surrounding the vague reports he had received regarding the girl. He had assumed his uncle would never marry, not only due to his age, but also due to his hard and ungenerous personality. She was said to be young, attractive, and of good family, but until he saw this young woman in front of him, he would have never believed that such a rare creature could be so honestly and openly attached to his uncle. Concern was written all over her face and she was undeniably shaken by the events. Dr. Fairmont wondered that she had not seen such trials on the horizon, but as he watched her sit down again, moving gracefully with every diminutive movement, he realized that as well as he knew his uncle, this innocent must be under no small illusion.

"I’d rather hold off on any statement on my uncle’s health until tomorrow morning," he said, immediately revealing that Mr. Langley might not be in as safe a condition as Dr. Fairmont let on. Emily simply nodded, before feeling tears build up in her eyes rebelliously. Dr. Fairmont leaned forward, laying his hand on top of hers as it rested on the small table for support. Without jerking her hand, Mrs. Langley carefully slid it away, wiping quickly at her cheeks. "Forgive me, Dr. Fairmont, I was not prepared for all this. We shall make the best of it though. Let me ring for Tintrup, and we shall all sup together," she said, finally summoning up some of her inner strength.

Emily sat at the head of the small table in her husband’s absence with Elizabeth at her left and Dr. Fairmont at her right. She had now regained at least the appearance of composure, putting both of her companions more at ease. Although Elizabeth was still more subdued than usual, worried that her cousin did not yet know about the ill will between Dr. Fairmont and his uncle. "Tomorrow we will post our great-uncle, Elizabeth. I’m sure he will want to assist in bringing us home." Elizabeth glanced shyly at Dr. Fairmont at the mention of the word "uncle". "I can post my father, cousin," she answered in her usual low tones. "Oh, I wouldn’t dream of bothering Mr. Munson. He has worries enough without adding Mr. Langley’s and mine to them," she said patting the hand of her favorite cousin.

"Mrs. Langley, you must forgive me for not having visited beforehand. I would have liked to wish you well on your marriage. This is not the way I generally like to meet with family for the first time." Dr. Fairmont had a way about him that was slowly becoming clear to Emily, and she did not find it unpleasant in the least. "No, I’m sure not. Mr. Langley had not mentioned your being here in Brighton, so I was truly unaffected by you not being a dutiful visitor," she said with a slight smile. Emily avoided saying that she knew nothing of Dr. Fairmont’s existence, feeling it betrayed a certain lack of intimacy between herself and her husband. "The truth is that my uncle and I have not been on very friendly terms for the past few years." Emily looked at Dr. Fairmont sadly: she was very sorry to hear this. Dr. Fairmont seemed so agreeable, and she wondered why such an agreeable man, who was obviously intelligent, would not be able to get along with an uncle of similar intellectual accomplishments. "We disagreed on my career, back when I was still making that decision, and I’m afraid he thinks me rather ungrateful for having chosen medicine." Dr. Fairmont was not interested in speaking evil of his uncle to his pretty new bride, but he felt it necessary to saying something on the subject, since it would soon be unavoidable.

The next morning, Mr. Langley was finally able to speak with some lucidity. Dr. Fairmont informed the young bride of this fact at breakfast, and she waited hopefully to be called into the sick room, but no invitation came. Mr. Langley only wished to speak to his nephew, something he would not have imagined desirable in the recent past, having just recently turned down a chance to see his nephew. "Well, I am in your debt now, I suppose," he said folding his hands in front of him, being propped up on pillows in his bed. "No, I don’t suppose that is true, uncle. I don’t like to talk in terms of debt." "You certainly have never acknowledged the pressure of guilt from an unpaid debt, have you?" Mr. Langley asked bitterly. "No, not as you would have liked. This is my profession of choice and I help anyone in need, sir," Dr. Fairmont answered with an edge in his tone previously suppressed. "Yes, yes, your profession of choice. And now, I suppose, if I had prevented you from studying medicine and you would have entered the church, I would now be dead." "No, I don’t suppose that, and I see no need for you to do so either." Mr. Langley shook his head, annoyed nonetheless at this feeling of being in the power of his recreant nephew.

"I can call on Dr. Ploughman, if you like, sir. I merely want you to stay quiet for some time. No reading and studies, mind you. And, I might be able to visit Dr. Ploughman in a week’s time, so that we might discuss your course of treatment." "Tell me now, Colin," Mr. Langley ordered in his gruff authoritative tone that Dr. Fairmont had grown to find insufferable. "I have already told you what I think best: rest. I know Dr. Ploughman to be fonder of tonics and such, than I, so I shall speak with him on the subject. Unless you do not wish it?" Mr. Langley struggled to find an answer: he would have liked nothing more than to indignantly say that his nephew was still not welcome in his house, and that he would trust Dr. Ploughman to his care. His nephew might have been headstrong and had ignored the duty owed his uncle, when he had chosen a different career than Mr. Langley had approved, but he had no doubt of his nephew’s intelligence. Dr. Ploughman might be trusted for the usual cold or fever, but he did not entirely trust him with prescribing a treatment for what might be the beginning of a life sapping condition. "That would do," Mr. Langley replied tersely. Dr. Fairmont wanted to end by telling his uncle to confide some in his new wife, who appeared to be willing to provide support, but he knew it would be taken amiss, and therefore, he said nothing.