The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 275: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

258 mouth had that unmistakable expression of sensuality which invariably marked and still marks every scion of the family of Brunswick. Her luxuriant light brown hair flowed in a thousand shining ringlets over ber shoulders; and she had a habit of every now and then slightly ahaking her head as if it were a pleasure to hear the rustling of those glossy curls or to feel them moving upon her warm and polished flesh. In fine, her whole appearance conveyed the impression of an amorous young creature in whose imagination soft, tender, and wauton thoughts habi- tually floated, but whose passions were at times susceptible of being excited to a devouring heat and a furious intensity. Such indeed was the Princess Sophia—one of the frail and licentious daughters of George the Third. But we must leave her Royal Highness for a brief space, while we hasten to inform our readers that at about a quarter to ten o’clock the Earl of Desborough descended from his carriage at the principal entrance to Carlton House, and assisted his beautiful Countess and the lovely Pauline Clarendon to alight. Then, giving an arm to each lady, he escorted them up the grand staircase. Oh! how Pauline’s heart beat as each step brought her nearer to that circle of light in which she knew that the master of that gorgeous scene was as it were embowered in luxury and enthroned in splendour, That she was about to behold Mr. Harley in the Prince of Wales, she had no longer any doubt: the scene at the Duchess of Devonshire’s on the preced- ing day had removed all previously existing uncer- tainty upon that point. For Mrs. Mordaunt was the Princess Sophia—and this fact accounted for the sudden disappearance of Mr. Harley when the carriage broke down opposite Paradise Villas, on the firet night of his acquaintance with Octavia and Pauline. When, therefore, the younger Miss Clarendon had reflected upon all the incidents of that night, and recalled to mind the ridiculous tale which Mr. Harley had related (on the occesion of his second visit to the villa) to acoount for his abrupt departure after gazing in at the window of the travelling-barouche, | —when she pondered on al! this, Pauline had na- turally come to the conclusion that Mr. Harley was the Prince of Wales beyond all possibility of oubt. With a beating heart, then, was it that the lovely creature now ascended the wide and brilliantly. lighted marble staircase; and the inward agitation which she experienced gave a rich crimson glow to her cheeks. On her side, the Countess of Desborough was not altogether composed and tranquil. She abhorred the idea of meeting the Prince of Wales;—and— more than that—the night of love and pleasure which she had passed in the arms of Philip Ramsey, had rendered her as timid and bashful as a bride on the morning after her wedding. For conscience had its qualms—or rather its terrors with the really well- principled Eleanor, who was a mere novice in the art of duplicity, and who was very far from being an experienced profligate. Thus was it whenever she recalled to mind her frailty of the past night, she felt a burning blush mantling upon her cheeks and suffusing itself over her neck and bosom; while it seemed to her that every eye which glanced upon her countenance could read her secret in that tell- tale glow—and this thought, or rather sensation, THE MYSTERIES. made her blush all the more deeply and added to her confusion. On reaching the summit of the grand staircese the Earl of Desborough left his beauteous wife and the charming Pauline at the, door of the ladies’ toilette-chamber, while he remained in a waiting- room until they should rejoin him. The Countess and Pauline accordingly entered that toilette-chamber; and the moment the door closed behind them, the former was accosted by Mrs Brace and the latter by one of the numerous females in attendance there. The blood mantled on Eleanor’s cheeks, suffusing even her lofty brow and descending to her very neck and bosom, when the milliner of Pall Mall, with affable though profoundly respectful mien, advanced to receive the velvet scarf which the patrician lady had thrown over her shoulders to defend herself against the chill night air when descending from the carriage. The first impulse of the Countess was to pass the woman by in haughty indignation: but, sweeping her looks around, she beheld several ladies of her acquaintance—-and, suddenly fearful of provoking a scene with Mra Brace, she paused and allowed the milliner to remove the scarf from her shoulders. “One word, your ladyship—etart not—buat hear me!” whispered Mrs. Braee: “I declare most solemnly that I wish you well and seek to render you a service, in spite of the displeasure you have visited upon me.” Eleanor turned completely round—fixed her mag- nificent eyes keenly upon the milliner’s countenance —and, perceiving a solemn earnestness in the woman’s manner, said in a low voice, “ Is it possible that you can have the power or the inclination to render me a service ?” “ Yes—a most important service, lady,’’ replied the milliner. “ Draw near towards this mirror—there! —now permit me to arrange this straggling curl :” and, seizing the opportunity afforded by her having thus led the Countess aside, Mrs, Brace said in a deep and impressive, but only just audible voice, “ The honour of your ladyship is at stake—you stand on the verge of ruin—and I alone can save you !” Eleanor started—staggered—and supported her- self by laying her hand on the shoulder of Mra. Brace, who whispered, “ Compose yourself—in the name of God! compose yourself! No harm is as yet done—the evil only menaces you now—it is not present.” “ And that evil?” murmured Eleanor, her cheeks, her neck, and her bosom becoming again suffused with a crimson glow: for, in the bewilderment of the moment, and with the milliner’s ominous words still ringing in her ears, she naturally associated the warn- ing she had just received with the love, volaptuous- ness, and frailty of the precedimg night—that night which she had passed in the arms of Philip Ramsey! Therefore was it that, with a thousand conflicting ideas springing up in her imagination, the Countess murmured inquiringly, “ And that evil ?” “TI cannot explain myself now, dear lady,” re sponded Mra. Brace, in the same rapid and low tone: “but believe me—oh! believe me—I wish you well.” “T shall endure the most torturing suspense until you have leisure to be more explicit,” said the Countess, forgetting, in the agitation of her mind, that her words and manner were both calculated to make the milliner suspect that she had Teally dene COMING OOOKS