Trial of Mary Blandy | Page 6

friends and in
accordance with Scots practice, raised in the Commissary Court at
Edinburgh an action of declarator of marriage against her perfidious
spouse, and the case was still pending before the Commissaries when
Lord Mark Kerr, as we have seen, "gave away" his grand-nephew to
the Blandys.
The old attorney was justly incensed at the unworthy trick of which he
had been the victim. He had designed, indeed, on his own account, a
little surprise for his son-in-law in the matter of the mythical dower, but
that was another matter; so, in all the majesty of outraged fatherhood,
he sought an interview with his treacherous guest. That gentleman,
whose acquaintance with "tight corners" was, doubtless, like Mr.
Waller's knowledge of London, extensive and peculiar, rose gallantly to
the occasion. A firm believer in the £10,000 dot, he could not, of
course, fully appreciate the moral beauty of Mr. Blandy's insistence on
the unprofitableness of deceit; but, taxed with being a married man,
"As I have a soul to be saved," swore he, "I am not, nor ever was!" The
lady had wilfully misrepresented their equivocal relations, and the
proceedings in the Scottish Courts meant, vulgarly, blackmail. Both
families knew the true facts, and Lord Mark's interference was the
result of an old quarrel between them, long since by him buried in
oblivion, but on account of which his lordship, as appeared, still bore
him a grudge. The action would certainly be decided in his favour,
when nothing more would be heard of Miss Murray and her fraudulent
claims. The affair was, no doubt, annoying, but such incidents were not
viewed too seriously by people of fashion--here the captain would
delicately take a pinch, and offer his snuff-box (with the Cranstoun
arms: gules, three cranes _argent_) to the baffled attorney.

On the receipt of Lord Mark's letter, Mrs. Blandy, womanlike, believed
the worst: "her poor Polly was ruined." But her sympathies were so far
enlisted on behalf of the fascinating intended that she eagerly clutched
at any explanation, however lame, which would put things upon the old
footing. She proved a powerful advocate; and, in the end, Mr. Blandy,
accepting his guest's word, allowed the engagement to continue in the
meantime, until the result of the legal proceedings should be known.
He was as loath to forego the chance of such an aristocratic connection
as was his wife to part from so "genteel" a friend; while Mary
Blandy--well, the damsels of her day were not morbidly nice in such
matters, more than once had the nuptial cup eluded her expectant lips,
enfin, she was nearing her thirtieth year: such an opportunity, as Mr.
Bunthorne has it, might not occur again. With the proverbial blindness
of those unwilling to see, the old man did nothing further in regard to
Lord Mark Kerr's communication; that nobleman, annoyed at the
indifference with which his well-meant warning had been received,
forbade his kinsman the house, and the Blandys were thus deprived of
their only means of knowledge as to the doings of their ambiguous
guest.
For the movements of that gentleman from this time until the first
"date" in the case, August, 1750, we must rely mainly upon the
narrative given by his fair fiancée in her Own Account, and,
unfortunately, after the manner of her sex, she is somewhat careless of
dates. This first visit of Cranstoun lasted "five or six months"--from the
autumn of 1747 till the spring of 1748--when he went to London on the
footing that Mary, with her father's permission, should "stay for him"
till the "unhappy affair" with his _soi-disant_ spouse was legally
determined. Pending this desired result, the lovers maintained a
vigorous correspondence.
Sometime after his departure, Mrs. Blandy and her daughter went on a
visit to Turville Court, the house of a friend named Mrs. Pocock, of
whom we shall hear again. While there, the old lady became suddenly,
and as was at first feared fatally, ill. Her constant cry, according to
Mary, was, "Let Cranstoun be sent for," and no sooner had that
insignificant warrior posted from Southampton to the sick-room than

the patient began to mend. She declared, now that he had come, she
would soon be well, and refused to take her medicines from any hand
but his. Mr. Blandy, also summoned in haste, was much out of humour
at "the great expense" incurred, and proposed forthwith to take his wife
home, where "neither the physician's fees nor the apothecary's journeys
could be so expensive"; and whenever the invalid was able to travel,
the whole party, including the indispensable captain, returned to
Henley. On the strength of the old lady's continued illness, Cranstoun
contrived to "put in" another six months' free board and lodging under
the Blandys' hospitable roof, until his regiment was "broke" at