The Young Duke | Page 5

again
to require instructions for the preparation of Hauteville House. His
letter was unanswered. Lord Fitz-pompey was quite puzzled.
'When does your cousin mean to come, Charles?' 'Where does your
cousin mean to go, Charles?' 'What does your cousin mean to do,
Charles?' These were the hourly queries of the noble uncle.
At length, in the middle of January, when no one expected him, the
Duke of St. James arrived at Mivart's.
He was attended by a French cook, an Italian valet, a German jäger,
and a Greek page. At this dreary season of the year this party was,
perhaps, the most distinguished in the metropolis.
Three years' absence and a little knowledge of life had somewhat
changed the Duke of St. James's feelings with regard to his noble
relatives. He was quite disembarrassed of that Panglossian philosophy
which had hitherto induced him to believe that the Earl of Fitz-pompey
was the best of all possible uncles. On the contrary, his Grace rather

doubted whether the course which his relations had pursued towards
him was quite the most proper and the most prudent; and he took great
credit to himself for having, with such unbounded indulgence, on the
whole deported himself with so remarkable a temperance. His Grace,
too, could no longer innocently delude himself with the idea that all the
attention which had been lavished upon him was solely occasioned by
the impulse of consanguinity. Finally, the young Duke's conscience
often misgave him when he thought of Mr. Dacre. He determined,
therefore, on returning to England, not to commit himself too decidedly
with the Fitz-pompeys, and he had cautiously guarded himself from
being entrapped into becoming their guest. At the same time, the
recollection of old intimacy, the general regard which he really felt for
them all, and the sincere affection which he entertained for his cousin
Caroline, would have deterred him from giving any outward signs of
his altered feelings, even if other considerations had not intervened.
And other considerations did intervene. A Duke, and a young Duke, is
an important personage; but he must still be introduced. Even our hero
might make a bad tack on his first cruise. Almost as important
personages have committed the same blunder. Talk of Catholic
emancipation! O! thou Imperial Parliament, emancipate the forlorn
wretches who have got into a bad set! Even thy omnipotence must fail
there!
Now, the Countess of Fitz-pompey was a brilliant of the first water.
Under no better auspices could the Duke of St. James bound upon the
stage. No man in town could arrange his club affairs for him with
greater celerity and greater tact than the Earl; and the married daughters
were as much like their mother as a pair of diamond ear-rings are like a
diamond necklace.
The Duke, therefore, though he did not choose to get caged in
Fitz-pompey House, sent his page, Spiridion, to the Countess, on a
special embassy of announcement on the evening of his arrival, and on
the following morning his Grace himself made his appearance at an
early hour.
Lord Fitz-pompey, who was as consummate a judge of men and

manners as he was an indifferent speculator on affairs, and who was
almost as finished a man of the world as he was an imperfect
philosopher, soon perceived that considerable changes had taken place
in the ideas as well as in the exterior of his nephew. The Duke,
however, was extremely cordial, and greeted the family in terms almost
of fondness. He shook his uncle by the hand with a fervour with which
few noblemen had communicated for a considerable period, and he
saluted his aunt on the cheek with a delicacy which did not disturb the
rouge. He turned to his cousin.
Lady Caroline St. Maurice was indeed a right beautiful being. She,
whom the young Duke had left merely a graceful and kind-hearted girl,
three years had changed into a somewhat dignified but most lovely
woman. A little perhaps of her native ease had been lost; a little
perhaps of a manner rather too artificial had supplanted that exquisite
address which Nature alone had prompted; but at this moment her
manner was as unstudied and as genuine as when they had gambolled
together in the bowers of Malthorpe. Her white and delicate arm was
extended with cordial grace, her full blue eye beamed with fondness,
and the soft blush that rose on her fair cheek exquisitely contrasted with
the clusters of her dark brown hair.
The Duke was struck, almost staggered. He remembered their infant
loves; he recovered with ready address. He bent his head with graceful
affection and pressed her lips. He almost repented that he had not
accepted his uncle's offer of hospitality.
CHAPTER IV.
A Social Triumph
LORD FITZ-POMPEY was a little consoled for the