It is with infinite concern that this newspaper has to announce to the world a matrimonial fracas in the family of Mr. R. of Wimpole Street; the beautiful Mrs. R., whose name has not long been enrolled in the lists of Hymen, and who promised to become so brilliant a leader in the fashionable world, has quit her husband’s roof in company with the well -known and captivating Mr. C., the intimate friend and associate of Mr. R. It is not known, even to the editor of this newspaper, whither they are gone.
No sooner had I put the newspaper down than a note was delivered from Lady Stornaway, begging me to cal. My heart sank. The note must have been written at the behest of Mary. What feelings of shame and wretchedness she must be enduring! I could scarcely breathe for the pity of it all. Poor Mary! For her to have learned that her brother had disgraced my sister and ruined her forever.
I went at once, in a state of mind so softened and devoted that I believe, if she had cried, I would have proposed to her there and then.
But instead she met me with a serious, even an agitated air. I could not speak, so much did I feel for her, in her state of distress. But her first words shocked me out of all tender feelings, for they were such as I could not believe any woman would utter in such circumstances.
‘I heard you were in town,’ said she. ‘I wanted to see you. Let us talk over this sad business. What can equal the fol y of our two relations?’
Fol y? I thought. To cal such an act nothing but fol y, when it would be the ruin of Maria, was incomprehensible to me. And to blame Maria as much as Crawford. I could not answer, but I believe my looks told her what I thought.
Her face fell. With a graver look and voice she said, ‘I do not mean to defend Henry at your sister’s expense.’ I felt relieved. For a moment I thought she had been about to do this very thing. But then she went on. ‘But it was foolish of Henry to be drawn on by a woman he never cared for, particularly as it will lose him the woman he adores. But oh!’ she broke out, ‘how foolish has been Maria, in sacrificing such a situation as she had, married to Mr. Rushworth, protected by his name, with his fortune at her disposal and such a house! The best in Wimpole Street! To give up all that, when a little discretion could have kept the whole thing from Rushworth and his odious mother. And for her to run off with Henry, under the idea of being real y loved by him, when he had long ago made his indifference clear,’ she said, shaking her head.
I could not believe it. She did not feel distress at the act, merely at its discovery. And what was she suggesting? That instead of behaving as they ought, Maria and Crawford should have been more cautious, more duplicitous, and gone on with their affair regardless? And even worse, saying that her brother had never cared for my sister; that he had ruined her on nothing more than a whim; that he had cast her into a life where, disowned by her husband, she would endure shame and misery, to satisfy nothing more than his vanity and selfish desire?
I was horrified. For the woman I loved to speak in such a way, regarding the whole thing as nothing more than an indiscretion, and lamenting, not Maria’s reputation, but her house in Wimpole Street! I began to wonder who this woman was, standing in front of me. I thought I knew her, but standing there, looking at her, I realized I did not know her at all. I was so shocked I could not speak. But Mary had no such difficulty, each word making me more and more horrified at her callousness. There was no reluctance to speak of it, no shame, only worldliness and vice.
‘If anyone is to blame, it is Rushworth,’ she said. ‘His want of common discretion, of caution: his going down to Richmond for the whole time of Maria’s being at Twickenham. And then Maria!
Putting herself in the power of a servant by leaving a lover’s note where it could be seen!
Foolish, foolish girl. Without that, they might never have been detected. It was only this that brought things to extremity, and obliged Henry to give up every dearer plan in order to fly with Maria.’
I was like a man stunned, but worse was to come. She began to talk of Fanny, regretting, as well she might, the loss of such a friend and sister.
‘He has thrown away such a woman as he will never see again. She would have fixed him; she would have made him happy for ever,’ she said. ‘Fanny, with all her sweetness and goodness, and all her quiet charm.’
