Dancing in the chequer’d shade.”
--John Milton, L’Allegro. Line 95.
Lt. Cassidy particularly enjoyed the Munson girls’ company, Miss Cassidy was quick to note, as her own reserved nature allowed her to observe others more closely. Walking arm in arm through the brisk weather from their aunt’s to the Munsons, she quietly began to question her brother about their frequent visits. "We go more often to the Munsons than one might expect," she said, her breath making small white clouds in front of her. "How do you see that, Eloisa?" Lt. Cassidy asked lightly, being the merrier of the two. "It is almost every day that we have gone to their house, brother dear. I see that as very much." "They make pleasant company: more pleasant than Auntie and Father." "Yes, I suppose you’re right," Miss Cassidy acceded, thinking that it would be better to speak later about it with her brother, as he might not yet have realized his attraction to the Munsons beyond their being pleasant girls.
Miss Cassidy was not the only one to have noticed the frequency of the Cassidys’ visits, for there was another frequent visitor who felt somewhat concerned about the situation. Andrew had convinced his sister to leave her husband for one afternoon and join him at their cousins’ home by making her feel as if she was neglecting her blood relations by her insistence on spending the majority of her time tending to her husband. He had brought with him, in addition to his sister, a large world atlas that he had found in Sir Graham’s library, thinking it might amuse the girls, but to his dismay only Cathy could be bothered to look it over, as Lt. Cassidy entertained the group with stories of bravery and adventure.
Mrs. Langley could see the cloud of displeasure settling over the usually bright features of her brother and being somewhat unimpressed by Lt. Cassidy herself, she surrendered her spot near him and moved closer to her brother across the room with the nominal intention of viewing the atlas with Cathy and Elizabeth, who had just joined her sister at the table. "It was good of you to bring this, Andrew dear," Emily said quietly after some minutes had passed. Andrew lounged back. "He barely pauses for breath," he spoke under his breath. Mrs. Langley was saved from having to scold her brother, since Elizabeth wordlessly silenced him by placing her diminutive hand over his own for a moment.
But later in the afternoon, Andrew could not help saying something else to Julia after the Cassidys had left. "You all seem very amused by Lt. Cassidy’s fairytales." "I don’t believe they are fairytales, Andrew," she said, stroking the cat that lay in her lap. "You believe all that he says then? Why, I don’t think he’s seen a lick of action." "Perhaps not, but he makes our party merry." Andrew adjusted himself needlessly on the settee. "I always thought us a rather merry party, Julia." "Well, of course you did. You were the only gentleman amongst us. You had all the adoration to yourself. Is that not what is really bothering you?" Julia was teasing her favorite cousin, but her words bruised his young ego. "I don’t perform to my family or seek adoration, Cousin," he said in a wounded tone. Julia playfully traced Andrew’s jaw line with her index finger, watching the door as she did so, in case her mother should return.
Instead, it was Elizabeth who entered the room, and she saw fit to speak to Julia on what she witnessed later in their bedchamber. "You should not tease Cousin Andrew," Elizabeth said, as she brushed the blond locks of her sister. "I have always teased Andrew, and I dare say he has teased me nearly as much. Why all the concern now? You can’t possibly think he has grown overly sensitive." "No, but I don’t believe he quite likes Lt. Cassidy." "No? Well, I’m quite sure he does not," Julia said with a smile playing on her lips. Elizabeth sighed, and sat herself down on the edge of Julia’s bed. Julia turned from the mirror to face her sister. "As I see it, it will not be long and Andrew will be off somewhere else, sitting in someone else’s sitting room, being teased by some other girl. So, why not have my share while I can?" Julia’s bright smile was one of complete innocence, and having herself been exposed to a rather small circle, was not truly aware of her feminine powers.
But now her sister’s thoughts turned from sympathy for her cousin to worry that Julia was right. "Surely not," she reasoned aloud after some minutes had passed. Julia was busy turning down her sheets, and knew not to what her sister referred. "You don’t truly think that, do you, Julia?" Elizabeth asked, her voice shaking just the slightest bit. "Think what, dearest?" "Andrew would not desert us." "Oh, yes, he certainly shall. All young men must eventually stray from their families and find pretty young ladies to pass the time with," she said laughing and patting her sister’s hand before climbing into bed.
And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets
In mere oppugnancy”
--William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida. Act i. Sc. 3.
So, when she returned from her short visit, she was not surprised that he took dinner in his room and asked Tintrup to inform Mrs. Langley that he was suffering from a headache and wished for no company for the rest of the evening. Mrs. Langley sat at her writing desk, writing paper lying in front of her and quill next to her. She had received an interesting bit of information after leaving the Munsons when stopping by to see how her great-uncle did. Her great-uncle was fond of ventures: things that he could invest some money in and spend a good amount of time inquiring into afterwards, making himself more troublesome than the money he gave worth. Knowing how his grandniece enjoyed improvements, he thought she might approve of his venture into helping to fund the new sanitarium that was to be built in the spring. Dr. Ploughman was going to be the head doctor at the institution, a fact that Sir Graham only added in passing. However, it occurred to Mrs. Langley that with Dr. Ploughman spending time in a sanatorium, there would be a need for another doctor to serve the area.
And so, she sat and contemplated. Writing to Dr. Fairmont would be a betrayal of her husband, and yet she was beginning to feel as if he had already betrayed her. The shadows of the room moved slowly across the oriental carpet, and still she sat, staring seemingly blankly, and yet much was running through her mind. Secretly, she was picturing the time she might spend with Dr. Fairmont and his fair cousin, who she now assumed, was home from school. As relatives of her husband, she felt she could not be held at fault for entertaining them in her home, nor seeing them regularly should they be set up in the neighborhood. It would add such joy to her life, and she tried to convince herself that Mr. Langley might come to see the logic in the arrangement.
The house had become dim when Mrs. Langley stood up from the wooden desk chair, having been unable to convince herself to commit this treachery against her husband. Climbing the stairs, the old boards creaking with every step, she felt a sadness pressing on her chest: she saw no relief in sight from her current state in life. For all she knew she would be trapped in this role for another fifteen years or more, and the looked for eventual relief from her condition was not something should could look upon with any joy. Despite her own grief, she decided to knock at her husband’s chamber door to see if he required anything before she retired for the evening, even though she half feared that he would be angered by what he could potentially view as an interruption. Mrs. Langley may have felt hopeless, but nevertheless, she tried to perform her wifely functions dutifully.
She knocked hesitantly, afraid he might have already gone to sleep. There was no answer, and she spoke quietly, "Mr. Langley?" Still no answer, she knocked once more and was rewarded with a gruff answer that did not sound like a word, but indicated that she was to enter. A lamp at the bedside table dimly lit the room, and Mr. Langley was in bed, propped up by pillows and wearing his reading glasses as he scanned page after page of the large parchment laid before him. Emily bustled over to his side and began to stack the parchment, while modulating her tone. "It is too dark, Mr. Langley, to be reading at this late hour. I have put away my work, and you might do the same." Mr. Langley still had not said a word, but he did not attempt to stop his wife’s straightening. Instead, he slowly removed his reading glasses without so much as a sigh and set them down carefully on the table.
"I thought perhaps that we might go for a drive tomorrow. Some air might be good for the both of us, and if we dress warmly, the closed carriage will not be too cold, I dare say." Emily finished this prepared speech, and as she did so, she blew out the flame in the lamp. There was no answer until Emily had nearly reached the door again, when Mr. Langley finally broke his silence: "You may go, Mrs. Langley, but I have no wish to join you." Emily paused, her hand holding onto the cold crystal doorknob. It took her what seemed like minutes to her inner clock to be able to quietly respond to her husband before hurrying through the door. "As you wish. Goodnight."
--Proverbs vi. 10; xxiv. 33.
The only thing that Emily persisted in doing that Mr. Langley could not abide by was her charitable work. Her sense of what was right was stronger than her obedience to her husbands wishes, it would seem, and every fiber of her being told her that she do something good with what she had been blessed. Therefore, as soon as the thaw of spring began to bring blooms and she could set out on foot without troubling anyone to prepare the carriage, Emily set out once more to do whatever she could. If his withering looks over breakfast that seemed to accuse her of abandoning him could not prevent her from doing as she liked, nothing could.
She had convinced her two eldest cousins to join her in a few of her charitable endeavors, although Julia took more urging than Elizabeth did. Walking through the damp grass, carrying back empty baskets from the church, the girls talked merrily on their way back to Mrs. Langley’s home, where tea awaited them. Emily had almost forgotten that she ever married by the time they reached the Langley estate: it was as if the months and years had fallen away, and that she might return to Sir Graham’s and find her brother stretched across the floor ready to tease her. There was only one thought that kept her from truly embracing the fantasy: the fact that this life that she had left carried on without her seemed the cruelest reminder of her former existence.
"Elizabeth thinks me frivolous, but I think a girl simply must have a pretty new bonnet sometimes," Julia said with a laugh, pulling hers off as they approached the house, and toying with the pink ribbons. "No, I only argue the point that your idea of sometimes is rather more frequent than it should be," Elizabeth responded with an indulgent smile. No one could truly fault Julia for her desire for the prettier things in life: someone as youthful and appealing as herself seemed only too deserving of the baubles and flimsy fabrics that she carefully arranged daily upon herself. "I’m famished!" Julia exclaimed in way of a response, her shoes sounding on the stone of the steps to the house. "Why is it doing some good always inspires such a hunger?" she said turning her head back to smile at her sister and cousin. "Tintrup will have set something out for us, I’m sure," Emily said as they entered the tall doorway and promptly removed her cloak. "You go ahead into the sitting room there, and I’ll be with you in a moment. I should check on Mr. Langley."
Straightening her skirts, she paused outside of his library, taking a moment to possess herself before facing her husband, whether she realized it or not. The door was slightly ajar, and Emily had only to quietly pull the door a little bit more to slide through. The large leather chair’s back was turned to her, so that she could not see her somewhat diminutive husband in it, except for his legs showing from underneath. His hearing was not terribly sharp, and Emily was not surprised that he did not hear her approach: it was not unusual to find him dosing in the library, as well, so there was a chance he would be asleep, and she could simply slip out again and join her cousins once more.
Resting her slender white hand on the top of his chair, Emily’s heart stopped cold. One look at Mr. Langley told her that his tilted snowy head would not soon arouse from its afternoon slumber. A cold chill started in the tips of her fingers and spread up her arms to her chest and before she knew it the world had gone dark.
--Publius Syrus, Maxim 656.
She had wanted to stay in Mr. Langley’s home after his death, but Mrs. Munson had told Sir Graham it would be entirely inappropriate for her niece to stay there alone, as such a young widow. So, she had been quickly removed to her former home. It seemed as if the walls were closing in around her, she thought fearfully, and she would soon be squeezed into non-existence. Visions of an empty existence of playing hostess to Sir Graham and then being the widowed sister and aunt in her brother’s future household played in her head like a theatrical pantomime.
***
The reading of the will was attended by many members of the Baconfield neighborhood: it was unlikely that Mr. Langley had left anyone any money outside of his immediate family, but the spectacle of a will reading was always a well attended event among the natives. A few days prior, the newly widowed Mrs. Langley had sat at her old writing desk in her old room and penned a most difficult death announcement to Dr. Fairmont. She had failed to inform him of his uncle’s death in time for him to come to the funeral service, and for this she was faced with the impossible task of explaining why she had made sure he would hear nothing of his uncle’s death until the reading of the will. And now, seeing him sitting next to the much heard of, but never seen, Miss Fairmont, looking somber and avoiding her glance, she felt that she had failed in the impossible. Now she could only hope that her husband had done what was right and left his nephew the bulk, if not all, of his estate.
Mrs. Munson leaned over Mr. Munson to whisper loudly to Sir Graham: "he might as well have stayed home. Mrs. Cassidy says that Dr. Fairmont was treated abominably, but I think the least Mr. Langley could do for our Emily would be to write that young man entirely out of his will." Emily was afraid that not only had everyone within a two-mile radius heard her aunt’s inappropriate comments, but she was also convinced that if the lawyer did not begin soon, it might have to be said again, as Sir Graham looked as if he had not heard and was about to ask Mrs. Munson to repeat herself. Thankfully, however, the lawyer entered from a side door and sat down at the desk, opening the book in front of him.
The buzz in the room from all those claiming a relation subdued, and the buzz outside of the office from those who had none, but wished to know the outcome nonetheless, died down as well, although somewhat less abruptly. Sitting slightly behind Emily’s family, and to the right of them, Dr. Fairmont watched Mrs. Langley nervously. Having observed her upon her entrance with her brother, the physician in Dr. Fairmont began assessing her condition. She appeared nervous, pale, detached, and sleep deprived. Sicily was observing him at the same time, and placed her hand over his own; she whispered as the lawyer began to rummage through his papers that "she looks tired." Her tone was sympathetic, and Dr. Fairmont nodded in concurrence.
The lawyer droned on, flipping through paper after paper, and it took awhile for the words to sink in for Emily. Mr. Langley had completely altered his will, leaving his dutiful wife everything and nothing for his nephew. Emily’s hands tightened around her handkerchief, as she fought back tears: she had wanted and needed nothing from her marriage. If she had been allowed to stay in her husband’s home, she might have wished to keep that alone, if only to preserve her independence, but now that she was forced to be with her family, she saw no reason to have all this wealth for herself, when it could aid Dr. Fairmont and his fair cousin.
She did not know how she would look Dr. Fairmont in the face, but she felt as if she must speak with him, and so as her brother ushered her from the room, Emily paused as they passed the Fairmonts and delicately detached herself from her brother’s arm. "Dr. Fairmont, I hope you are well," she began quietly. "I wish I could be assured that you were well, Mrs. Langley. You seem much bereaved," he said as he took her hand. Avoiding a response, Emily turned her attention on Miss Fairmont, who stood somewhat shyly, behind her cousin. "This, I presume, is your dear cousin of whom I have heard so much." "How rude of me. Yes, forgive me, dear Sicily. Mrs. Langley, this is Miss Fairmont." Sicily curtsied, as Andrew began to try to draw his sister aside once more.
"I’ll just be one moment, Andrew. Go ahead to the carriage, and I will join you shortly." With a sigh, Andrew withdrew, and Emily turned back to Dr. Fairmont and his charge. "Where are you staying?" Emily began to ask, but before Dr. Fairmont could answer, Emily began once more: "I don’t know how long you were intending on being in the neighborhood, but if I could have an interview with you…I need to…we could…I could get to know Miss Fairmont somewhat," she said, wandering, unable to form a coherent sentence. "We had not intended on staying beyond tomorrow, but…" "I am at my great uncle’s, and you can come tomorrow, if that would suit you. I only wish to say some things," but unable to finish, Emily dropped a curtsey herself and hurried out to meet the carriage.
