Andrew stood up, causing the pug to scamper back yet again. He ranged around the room, stopping at the mantle to mindlessly pick up some odd trinket. Elizabeth was trying to cast a look at her mother to convey the inappropriateness of the last statement. "Emily tells me that Dr. Fairmont, who treated Mr. Langley in Brighton, is actually his nephew, and he will be coming into the neighborhood in a few days to reassess Mr. Langley’s health," Andrew sighed. Mrs. Munson knit her brow. "Dr. Fairmont you say? I believe I remember this young man. We never dined or sat with Mr. Langley, but yes, I do remember his nephew. There was some falling out between them, if I recall correctly." "I don’t remember a Dr. Fairmont, Mama," Julia said, stacking the cards neatly. "Oh, well, he’s been gone over five years, so you would have just been a child, my dear. And he wasn’t a doctor then."
"Excuse me, Aunt Munson, but I think I must go to see my sister," Andrew said abruptly, grabbing for his jacket that was casually slung over the chair next to Julia. "Oh, may I come with you?" Cathy asked, standing up from her position on the floor where she had been teasing the pug. "There are kittens in the barn at Mr. Langley’s: I saw them when we were there last." "Yes, you can ride in front of me. I’ll bring her back in time for supper, Auntie," he said taking his youngest cousin’s hand before leaving by way of the servant’s side door.
Emily’s boredom had increased since their return to Mr. Langley’s estate and the loss of her cousin’s constant companionship, so she was excessively glad to see her brother come striding into the entry hall. "Oh, I’m so happy you’ve come!" she said, smiling for the first time that day. "I’ve left Cathy in the barn." "Oh yes, she wanted to see the kittens," Emily said conveying her brother into the sitting room to the right of the library. "You’ve come from our aunt’s then?" she said, sitting down and smoothing her skirts, for once interested in news outside of her own present dealings, which were currently so limited. "Yes, I have. They are all concerned for you there, Emily. I am worried about you as well." Emily was unused to seeing her brother so serious. "Oh, I am fine, Andrew. You have not asked, but Mr. Langley is doing very well also. I have to employ all the servants in keeping him quiet, for he wants to go about his studies as before."
Andrew had come, hoping to persuade his sister of something, but now faced with her cool composure and usual strength, he wondered at what it was he had hoped to persuade her. Mrs. Munson was right: what was done could not be undone. Andrew restlessly messed with his hair. "You should be more worried about yourself, brother dear," Mrs. Langley said with teasing scolds. "And why is that?" "You should be deciding on your future, instead of spending all of your time in riding about the countryside and paying visits to pleasant families." This being Andrew’s least favorite line of discussion, he began to wish he had brought someone with him that might have deflected this unpleasantry. "You know it’s of no use to speak of me going to school. I’ve never had a head for it, and Sir Graham has no wish to send me off, as far as I know." "No, but you cannot count on the inheritance of Sir Graham’s estates, Andrew. What will you do, if you lose the place to Cousin Peter?" "Sir Graham prefers me, I’m sure," Andrew said, annoyed with his sister and her practicality. Immediately, Emily regretted having opened up this wound and she stood coming over to kiss Andrew’s head. "You are a good brother to come and visit me. Do not be remiss: it is a sister’s duty to plague her brother. Will you stay and sup with us?" "No, I promised Mrs. Munson that I’d have Cathy home before that, I’m afraid," he said standing up. "Ah," she sighed, sounding saddened. "Come, walk with me to the barn, sister."
Emily followed behind her brother, who was moodily brushing his pants with his crop. "Mr. Langley stays to his bed then?" "No, but he stays to his apartments. His nephew, Dr. Fairmont, should be here tomorrow and he intends on speaking with Dr. Ploughman concerning future treatment." Andrew pulled the barn door back, exposing Cathy crouched amongst three tiny black kittens. "It must be very tedious for you, Emily." "Oh, not at all, helping Mr. Langley keeps me very busy." Mrs. Langley was conscious of lying to her brother, something she never wished to do, but it was true that she wished caring for Mr. Langley kept her quite busy. Nevertheless, he persisted in seeming annoyed at any intimation that he might need her assistance and bothered by her presence, when she tried to provide him with company.
Emily was well aware that what she had imagined her married life to be was little more than something she had conjured up without any basis in reality. She did not blame Mr. Langley for this and chided herself for privately indulging her disappointment that reality was not as sweet as her dreams. She had never considered herself a romantic, but her foolish concoctions were as much romantic nonsense as her cousin Julia’s daydreams about the dashing young men who rode by the house. Mr. Langley was not a bad man and under better circumstances he might have been able to be a better husband, but she now saw that he had also been mistaken in her: she was as unsuitable a match for him as he was for her. She had now only to hope that she might still become useful to him and prevent anyone outside of their union to see the instability within that could possibly bring scorn upon Mr. Langley.
While Miss Dawson had imagined a life of learning and helping, Mr. Langley had very different views of the role of his future bride. He had become aware of her while dining at Sir Graham’s one evening, when she seemed to be trying to make herself particularly pleasing to him. There were many local young men also in attendance, but she spent none of her time and energies on them, instead directing her enthusiastic wide-eyed attention entirely on whatever he lectured about. Mr. Langley had long before truly decided that marriage was not a state he desired to enter into, being opinionated to the point of finding what some might call discussion entirely displeasing: he only wished to hear his voice bouncing off whatever it was that was around him, bringing both the sounds and the comforting self-created ideas back to him. He was under the firm belief that ladies in general did not hold the same high ideals that he did and would provide an inadequate sounding board, but that evening he found it very pleasant to hear himself in the presence of Miss Dawson. Added to all this was the warming knowledge that she appeared to prefer his opinions and company to everyone else’s in the room.
He had benefited from Emily urging her uncle to invite Mr. Langley more often and very soon felt sure that an offer should be made to Miss Dawson. Not only would she provide a permanent pretty sounding board for his thoughts, but he also felt assured that she would become less eager to share her own once they were married, knowing that their opinions must be as one. Miss Dawson demonstrated a sincere spirituality that would make her not only a pretty ornament, but also something that he need not be ashamed to have in his house.
While he was not disappointed in the new Mrs. Langley’s spirituality, he was disappointed in her continuance to chatter and urge her opinions. And once he fell ill, he was uncomfortable having her fuss around him: she was young, and it seemed embarrassing to him to now have this pretty bird flitting around him, asking him if he needed anything. But, much like Mrs. Langley, he too hoped to at least present a veneer of marital communion and to never bring pain to his wife, who although lacking, was not an evil.
At supper that evening Emily spoke of her brother’s visit, but Mr. Langley provided little in the way of a response. He was conscious of Andrew Dawson’s dislike of him and while he could not openly criticize the youth to his wife, he felt it very presumptuous of any young man to form an opinion of him. Perceiving that her husband did not wish to discuss Andrew’s visit, she turned to the subject of the day’s post. "We received a letter from Dr. Fairmont," she said handing him a letter with a broken seal. "He speaks of arriving tomorrow." Mr. Langley took the letter from his wife, but set it on the table in front of him next to his wineglass. "You do not wish to read it?" "You have already done so," he said somewhat gruffly. "Have I done wrong?" Mr. Langley thought so, but avoided scolding the trembling raven. "If he would have written sooner, I might have told him not to come." "I thought you wished Dr. Fairmont to speak with Dr. Ploughman?" she asked, confused by her husband’s obvious anger. Mr. Langley refused to answer, and Emily ate the rest of her meal in silence.
Welcome the coming, speed the going guest.”
--Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace. Satire ii. Book ii. Line 159., Alexander Pope
When Dr. Fairmont was announced, he found Mrs. Langley by herself that morning: Mr. Langley, she explained, complained of mild rheumatism that would keep him in bed until noon. Dr. Fairmont stood silently for what seemed like an age to Mrs. Langley. It almost seemed to her that he was looking inside of her head, and she feared he could see her less than joyous bridal thoughts. She straightened her back, feeling as if she gained strength through this act.
Dr. Fairmont’s silence, however, was not so unpleasantly critical: he had spent the time since his introduction to his uncle’s wife in regular contemplation of her beauty, intelligence, and innocent spiritual dedication to her bullish husband. He would picture her in the pale blue dress, seeming to come out of a painting of maidenhood in his imagination. She was now attired in a creamy yellow that was another wedding gift, and Dr. Fairmont, without quite being aware of it, was creating a compliment to his first artful rendering.
"Won’t you sit down, Dr. Fairmont?" "Oh, yes," he said, distractingly laying his gloves on the table beside him as he sat. "Is Dr. Ploughman coming?" she sweetly asked, trying to bring on the same comfortable conversation that she had enjoyed with him before. "I said in my post to Dr. Ploughman that I would send for him in the afternoon. I confess I wished to spend some time with you, Mrs. Langley, for I cannot stay past this evening. My patients in Brighton need me as well." Mrs. Langley smiled a bright smile that was not often put into use. "And what do your patients suffer from in Brighton, Dr. Fairmont?" "Gout, mostly: the rich in a seaside town have little else from which to suffer." Emily knit her brow, confused at this frank avowal: pleased by Dr. Fairmont originally, she had no doubt that he was a skilled physician and being a relative of Mr. Langley’s she felt he must be as spiritually minded as her husband. She had imagined that he would want to help the poorest in need, instead of the richest. She folded her hands, looking intently back at her visitor.
"I would have thought you would have given your talents to a needier population, Dr. Fairmont." Her words struck Dr. Fairmont as none others possibly could: his idol was displeased. She had thought him better than he was, and this realization seemed the worst kind of disapproval. "Even the rich are in need, sometimes, Mrs. Langley," he said somewhat lamely, not perhaps believing it to be true now that this innocent thought it unimpressive. "Mr. Langley, I suppose, is proof of that," Mrs. Langley answered quietly, but still feeling confused at Dr. Fairmont’s choice of patients.
A book had been laid aside on the sofa next to Mrs. Langley, and Dr. Fairmont leaned forward to see what she read. "Do you spend much time in the library?" he asked. "Oh yes, I sometimes spend the whole of a day alone there." "I was always fond of my uncle’s library, although it is not as mindless as one would sometimes like," he said with a small laugh. "You spent time here, then?" Emily questioned, filled with curiosity about her husband and his nephew’s relationship. Dr. Fairmont stood, putting out his hand. "Come into the library, and I’ll show you a book of sketches I did. My uncle doesn’t know they exist, most likely, or I’m sure he would have thrown them away," he said laughing once again.
Emily followed him into the library, where he went directly to a high shelf and pulled down a leather sketchbook with a very broken back. Emily sat down at the desk and Dr. Fairmont opened the large book in front of her. The first sketch was of a cottage. "I did this when I was thirteen. It’s Mr. Fairmont’s house, my uncle, Mr. David Fairmont." He traced the lines of the roof lightly, and Emily watched his large seemingly ageless hands rather than the sketch before her. "I always liked my Uncle Fairmont’s house better than Mr. Langley’s you see. I’d spend the winter holidays here and the summer ones with my Uncle Fairmont." Emily was so happy to speak to someone who was eager to share details of their life, as Mr. Langley thus far had seemed reluctant to tell her anything: he had seemed particularly displeased when she quizzed him on the collection of portraits in the main hall. "That house was always a much warmer place than this." Dr. Fairmont looked from the picture to Mrs. Langley, thinking she gave this place a new glow that he had never witnessed before.
He turned the page and the sketch was a young girl. "Is this your sister?" "Oh no, I haven’t any brothers or sisters. That is my cousin Sicily: she has been in my care since the death of my Uncle Fairmont some two years ago." "Does she live with you in Brighton?" "How old are you, Mrs. Langley? I don’t suppose you are at an age where you would be shy of confessing," he said, turning yet again to face her. "I am but eighteen, Dr. Fairmont." "Then you are her elder by a year. She is away at a school outside of London. A nice girl’s school. I’d have her with me, selfishly, but it’s better for her there, I think."
Emily was about to further question Dr. Fairmont about Miss Fairmont, when Mr. Langley entered the room. Dr. Fairmont straightened up and took one step away from Mrs. Langley, but he did not go to shake his uncle’s hand. "Colin," Mr. Langley said starkly. "Uncle, shall I send for Dr. Ploughman?" "I don’t think that will be necessary." Emily stood up, quickly closing the sketchbook. "Oh, Mr. Langley, Dr. Fairmont has come all this way," she said in a half whisper. Never before had his bride truly made him angry, and although he tried to control the color he knew was rising in his face, he could tell by his wife’s reaction that he was doing a poor job. Mrs. Langley bit her lip, never having seen her husband like this, and Dr. Fairmont was quickly trying to think of how to mend the situation. Mr. Langley was finally able to say quietly, "Colin, go for Dr. Ploughman." Dr. Fairmont quickly left the room, bowing as he left, and Mrs. Langley was left with her husband’s displeasure.
"You should not interfere between my nephew and me: it is no business of yours," Mr. Langley said gruffly, as soon as he was sure Colin was out of earshot. Emily had been gently pressing her fingertips on the desk in front of her and now she felt in her rising temper that she could knock the large sketchbook off in one forceful swipe, but instead she backed away and hurried past her husband. She ran up the stairs to her bright yellow apartments.
She slammed the heavy wooden door, using both hands to accomplish the feat. The sunniest room in the dingy old house seemed ill suited for her dark mood. Pacing back and forth from the one large window to the other, she watched the floorboards beneath her feet as they passed with each step. Emily had always wrestled with a temper unseen in her unruffled brother and closest relations; it particularly displeased her since it prevented her from being as tolerant and spiritual as she would have liked. She stopped at one window, reflecting that perhaps she had been wrong, but immediately her mind revolted against it: "No, he was being bullheaded! It is for his health that Dr. Fairmont has come." For the first time, Emily truly felt that although he might be her husband, he might also be wrong.
Mr. Langley waited in the library for the doctors’ arrival, and this was where Dr. Fairmont found him when he came in breathing hard from a fast ride. Mr. Langley tried to look around his nephew, as he sat at the desk, tightly gripping the sketchbook. "Dr. Ploughman follows. I rode ahead so as to speak with you for a moment. Do not be hard on Mrs. Langley, for…" but he was not allowed to finished, as Mr. Langley sharply interrupted: "What is this nonsense you’ve come filling her head with?" he asked, letting go of the book only to thump it with one hand. Dr. Fairmont was set aback and put his hand behind his back, shifting his weight from one leg to another. He cleared his throat before beginning, "it is merely an old sketchbook of mine, in which I thought she might find some entertainment. The subjects are harmless schoolboy images and that is all, sir." "She cares not for such trifles. You do not know her, Colin, so do not presume. She is a religious young lady, and she does not waste her time on idle worldly diversions." "Then it can not hurt to have shown it to her, sir," Dr. Fairmont responded with an edge to his tone. "Take it with you," Mr. Langley said, standing and leaving the library without a further word.
That happiness for man,—the hungry sinner!—
Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner."
--Lord Byron, Don Juan. Canto xiii. Stanza 99.
Dr. Fairmont was somewhat well acquainted with Mrs. Cassidy from the time he had spent in Baconfield in his younger years, but he had only ever seen the young Miss Cassidy in church or in passing. He found himself rather unimpressed with Miss Cassidy, discovering her to be somewhat severe: what was sometimes amusing and slightly ridiculous in the elder lady, Dr. Fairmont thought irritatingly unpleasant in the younger.
Miss Eloisa Cassidy was the daughter of Mrs. Cassidy’s sister Mary, who had married Mr. Cassidy’s younger brother, Capt. Cassidy, who was away on the seas much of the time. Three years ago Eloisa’s mother had passed away, and she had moved in with her widowed aunt at the same time her brother had gone into the army. Always plainly dressed and a seemingly subdued young lady, an observer would have been surprised at the quiet river of snobbery that ran right beneath the surface. Upon moving in with her aunt, she gained much of the social niceties for which she had long wished, which, instead of satisfying her desires, had only increased them. Mrs. Cassidy’s house was larger, better placed in the neighborhood, and more lushly decorated than the one in which she had grown up; and she was not sophisticated enough to know that it was also outdated and somewhat shabby after twenty-five years of occupation without improvement. Although she was proud to walk on the arm of her brightly uniformed brother, she still thought the employment of law more prestigious and certainly more profitable than that of the naval or military life. She now mixed with the society of other professional families, such as Dr. Ploughman and the Munsons. It thrilled her to know that she even had been introduced to genteel people in these circles, such as Andrew Dawson and the former Miss Dawson.
Dr. Fairmont was not of a taciturn disposition, but tonight he was finding it very difficult to be merry: not only had his uncle been very unpleasant, but Mrs. Langley had also never come down to join them again. He presumed there had been some nasty scene after he left and he hated himself for it. He hated himself for causing the young lady pain, but he almost hated himself more for his undeniable desire to catch one more glimpse of his uncle’s wife, knowing he might not see or hear from her again for quite some time.
He had disliked his uncle for as long as he could remember. The reasons were numerous and not merely based on his uncle’s unpleasant disposition. He disliked Mr. Langley for personal reasons, such as his wish to make him into something entirely inappropriate, fitting his vision of creating a life befitting his nephew and heir. The life of a country parson would provide Colin with an income, in addition to the one that was due him upon Mr. Langley’s death, but additionally, to Mr. Langley’s way of thinking, it would imbue him with the social standing that his father’s blood had stripped away.
Moreover, Dr. Fairmont could not endure his uncle, as he knew that his uncle had spoken ill of his mother in the past. When Caroline had eloped with Mr. Fairmont, she had, in the eyes of her family, abandoned all good society. Not only was there a stigma attached to such a mode of marriage, but they also immediately had left for the Continent, where they led a bohemian lifestyle for nearly three years. Being from an unknown family, Mr. Fairmont might have been held up by the Langleys, if he had not spirited his bride away as he did. As it was, when they returned, entirely impoverished with a child of two years, Caroline’s father was now deceased, and her brother, her lone remaining relation, had no wish to help them. Mr. Fairmont’s brother had assisted in setting up the young family in a small apartment in London, but beyond that could do nothing, having a young bride of his own. Within months of returning to England, Caroline showed signs of an ailment that affected her lungs and she died before Colin’s fourth birthday, leaving him with little memory of his mother. Mr. Fairmont then brought the child to his brother’s house, saying that he would leave for the Continent once again, and being unable to care for the child, left it with his brother. Word soon reached David Fairmont that his elder brother had died on the Continent, presumably of the same illness that had taken his wife some months earlier.
Colin had spent the next fourteen years of his life divided between the Fairmonts and Mr. Langley, as well as being sent to an expensive boarding school that the latter gentleman deemed appropriate. Colin would have been happier staying with his father’s family, but whereas Mr. Langley had not wished to help his sister, he did think it worthwhile to take the young man under his wing to raise as his heir. His interest increased as Colin proved to be exceptionally bright and Mr. Langley envisioned a life in the church for his nephew. Yet, as much as Colin had always held his uncle in quiet contempt, he was somewhat surprised when his rebellion against his chosen profession resulted in his being disowned.
His apartments in Brighton were more than comfortable, being outfitted with the niceties of life and in current fashion that one might expect in a smart bathing town. He did not need these little touches, but he owned that liked to have the appearance of wealth to demonstrate its existence and he enjoyed providing a pleasant home for his cousin, Sicily, who had not had such amenities in her father’s home. It was the type of life that might secure him a young lady such as Miss Cassidy, he considered, watching her across the sitting room, tending to her aunt dutifully. The very thought brought chill bumps to his skin and he wondered how the fowl was sitting with him.
