The Eustace Diamonds (15 page)

‘Frederic can see just as far as some other men, and not a bit further. Of course she has an income – for her life.'

‘I believe it is her own altogether, Clara.'

‘She says so, I don't doubt. I believe she is the greatest liar about London. You find out about her jewels before she married poor Sir Florian, and how much he had to pay for her; or rather, I'll find out. If you want to know, mamma, you just ask her own aunt, Lady Linlithgow.'

‘We all know, my dear, that Lady Linlithgow quarrelled with her.'

‘It's my belief that she is over head and ears in debt again. But I'll learn. And when I have found out, I shall not scruple to tell Frederic. Orlando will find out all about it' Orlando was the Christian name of Mrs Hittaway's husband. ‘Mr Camperdown, I have no doubt, knows all the ins and outs of her story. The long and the short of it is this, mamma, that I've heard quite enough about Lady Eustace to feel certain that Frederic would live to repent it.'

‘But what can we do?' said Lady Fawn.

‘Break it off,' said Mrs Hittaway.

Her daughter's violence of speech had a most depressing effect upon poor Lady Fawn. As has been said, she did believe in Mrs Hittaway. She knew that Mrs Hittaway was conversant with the things of the world, and heard tidings daily which never found their way down to Fawn Court. And yet her son went about quite as much as did her daughter. If Lady Eustace was such a reprobate as was now represented, why had not Lord Fawn heard the truth? And then she had already given in her own adhesion, and had promised to call.

‘Do you mean that you won't go to her?' said Lady Fawn.

‘As Lady Eustace – certainly not. If Frederic does marry her, of course I must know her. That's a different thing. One has to make
the best one can of a bad bargain. I don't doubt they'd be separated before two years were over.'

‘Oh dear, how dreadful!' exclaimed Augusta.

Lady Fawn, after much consideration, was of opinion that she must carry out her intention of calling upon her son's intended bride in spite of all the evil things that had been said. Lord Fawn had undertaken to send a message to Mount Street, informing the lady of the honour intended for her. And in truth Lady Fawn was somewhat curious now to see the household of the woman, who might perhaps do her the irreparable injury of ruining the happiness of her only son. Perhaps she might learn something by looking at the woman in her own drawing-room. At any rate, she would go. But Mrs Hittaway's words had the effect of inducing her to leave Augusta where she was. If there were contamination, why should Augusta be contaminated? Poor Augusta! She had looked forward to the delight of embracing her future sister-in-law; – and would not have enjoyed it the less, perhaps, because she had been told that the lady was false, profligate, and a vixen. As, however, her position was that of a girl, she was bound to be obedient – though over thirty years old – and she obeyed.

Lizzie was of course at home, and Miss Macnulty was of course visiting the Horticultural Gardens or otherwise engaged. On such an occasion Lizzie would certainly be alone. She had taken great pains with her dress, studying not so much her own appearance as the character of her visitor. She was very anxious, at any rate for the present, to win golden opinions from Lady Fawn. She was dressed richly, but very simply. Everything about her room betokened wealth; but she had put away the French novels, and had placed a Bible on a little table, not quite hidden, behind her own seat. The long lustrous lock was tucked up, but the diamonds were still upon her fingers. She fully intended to make a conquest of her future mother-in-law and sister-in-law; – for the note which had come up to her from the India Office had told her that Augusta would accompany Lady Fawn. ‘Augusta is my favourite sister,' said the enamoured lover, ‘and I hope that you two will always be friends.' Lizzie, when she had read this, had declared to herself that of all the female oafs she had ever seen, Augusta
Fawn was the greatest oaf. When she found that Lady Fawn was alone, she did not betray herself, or ask for the beloved friend of the future. ‘Dear, dear Lady Fawn!' she said, throwing herself into the arms and nestling herself against the bosom of the old lady, ‘this makes my happiness perfect.' Then she retreated a little, still holding the hand she had grasped between her own, and looking up into the face of her future mother-in-law. ‘When he asked me to be his wife, the first thing I thought of was whether you would come to me at once.' Her voice as she thus spoke was perfect. Her manner was almost perfect. Perhaps there was a little too much of gesture, too much gliding motion, too violent an appeal with the eyes, too close a pressure of the hand. No suspicion, however, of all this would have touched Lady Fawn had she come to Mount Street without calling in Warwick Square on the way. But those horrible words of her daughter were ringing in her ears, and she did not know how to conduct herself.

‘Of course I came as soon as he told me,' she said.

‘And you will be a mother to me?' demanded Lizzie.

Poor Lady Fawn! There was enough of maternity about her to have enabled her to undertake the duty for a dozen sons' wives – if the wives were women with whom she could feel sympathy. And she could feel sympathy very easily; and was a woman not at all prone to inquire too curiously as to the merits of a son's wife. But what was she to do after the caution she had received from Mrs Hittaway? How was she to promise maternal tenderness to a vixen and a liar? By nature she was not a deceitful woman. ‘My dear,' she said, ‘I hope you will make him a good wife.'

It was not very encouraging, but Lizzie made the best of it. It was her desire to cheat Lady Fawn into a good opinion, and she was not disappointed when no good opinion was expressed at once. It is seldom that a bad person expects to be accounted good. It is the general desire of such a one to conquer the existing evil impression; but it is generally presumed that the evil impression is there. ‘Oh, Lady Fawn!' she said, ‘I will so strive to make him happy. What is it that he likes? What would he wish me to do
and to be? You know his noble nature, and I must look to you for guidance.'

Lady Fawn was embarrassed. She had now seated herself on the sofa, and Lizzie was close to her, almost enveloped within her mantle. ‘My dear,' said Lady Fawn, ‘if you will endeavour to do your duty by him, I am sure he will do his by you.'

‘I know it. I am sure of it. And I will ;I will. You will let me love you, and call you mother?' A peculiar perfume came up from Lizzie's hair which Lady Fawn did not like. Her own girls, perhaps, were not given to the use of much perfumery. She shifted her seat a little, and Lizzie was compelled to sit upright, and without support. Hitherto Lady Fawn had said very little, and Lizzie's partwas one difficult to play. She had heard of that sermon read every Sunday evening at Fawn Court, and she believed that Lady Fawn was peculiarly religious.‘ There,' she said, stretching out her hand backwards and clasping the book which lay upon the small table – ‘there; that shall be my guide. That will teach me how to do my duty by my noble husband.'

Lady Fawn in some surprise took the book from Lizzie's hand, and found that it was the Bible. ‘You certainly can't do better, my dear, than read your Bible,' said Lady Fawn – but there was more of censure than of eulogy in the tone of her voice. She put the Bible down very quietly, and asked Lady Eustace when it would suit her to come down to Fawn Court. Lady Fawn had promised her son to give the invitation, and could not now, she thought, avoid giving it

‘Oh, I should like it so much!' said Lizzie. ‘Whenever it will suit you, I will be there at a minute's notice.' It was then arranged that she should be at Fawn Court on that day week, and stay for a fortnight. ‘Of all things that which I most desire now,' said Lizzie, ‘is to know you and the dear girls – and to be loved by you all.'

Lady Eustace, as soon as she was alone in the room, stood in the middle of it, scowling – for she could scowl. ‘I'll not go near them,' she said to herself, – ‘nasty, stupid, dull, puritanical drones. If he don't like it, he may lump it. After all it's no such great catch.' Then she sat down to reflect whether it was or was not a
catch. As soon as ever Lord Fawn had left her after the engagement was made, she had begun to tell herself that he was a poor creature, and that she had done wrong. ‘Only five thousand a year!' she said to herself; – for she had not perfectly understood that little explanation which he had given respecting his income. ‘It's nothing for a lord.' And now again she murmured to herself, ‘It's my money he's after. He'll find out that I know how to keep what I've got in my own hands. Now that Lady Fawn had been cold to her, she thought still less of the proposed marriage. But there was this inducement for her to go on with it. If they, the Fawn women, thought that they could break it off, she would let them know that they had no such power.

‘Well, mamma, you've seen her?' said Mrs Hittaway.

‘Yes, my dear; I've seen her. I had seen her two or three times before, you know.'

‘And you are still in love with her?'

‘I never said that I was in love with her, Clara.'

‘And what has been fixed?'

‘She is to come down to Fawn Court next week, and stay a fortnight with us. Then we shall find out what she is.'

‘That will be best, mamma,' said Augusta.

‘Mind, mamma; you understand me. I shall tell Frederic plainly just what I think. Of course he will be offended, and if the marriage goes on, the offence will remain – till he finds out the truth.'

‘I hope he'll find out no such truth,' said Lady Fawn. She was, however, quite unable to say a word in behalf of her future daughter-in-law. She said nothing as to that little scene with the Bible, but she never forgot it.

‘I suppose the lawyers will do that,' said Miss Macnulty.

‘Yes; – lawyers! That's all very well. I know what lawyers are. I'm not going to trust any lawyer to give away my property. Of course we shall live at Portray, because his place is in Ireland; – and nothing shall take me to Ireland. I told him that from the very first. But I don't mean to give up my own income. I don't suppose he'll venture to suggest such a thing.' And then again she grumbled. ‘It's all very well being in the Cabinet –!'

‘Is Lord Fawn in the Cabinet?' asked Miss Macnulty, who in such matters was not altogether ignorant.

‘Of course he is,' said Lizzie, with an angry gesture. It may seem unjust to accuse her of being stupidly unacquainted with circumstances, and a liar at the same time; but she was both. She said that Lord Fawn was in the Cabinet because she had heard some one speak of him as not being a Cabinet Minister, and in so speaking appear to slight his political position. Lizzie did not know how much her companion knew, and Miss Macnulty did not comprehend the depth of the ignorance of her patroness. Thus the lies which Lizzie told were amazing to Miss Macnulty. To say that Lord Fawn was in the Cabinet, when all the world knew that
he was an Under-Secretary! What good could a woman get from an assertion so plainly, so manifestly false? But Lizzie knew nothing of Under-Secretaries. Lord Fawn was a lord, and even Commoners were in the Cabinet. ‘Of course he is,' said Lizzie; ‘but I shan't have my drawing-room made a Cabinet. They shan't come here.' And then again on the Tuesday evening she displayed her independence. ‘As for those women down at Richmond, I don't mean to be overrun by them, I can tell you. I said I would go there, and of course I shall keep my word.'

‘I think you had better go,' said Miss Macnulty.

‘Of course, I shall go. I don't want anybody to tell me where I'm to go, my dear, and where I'm not. But it'll be about the first and the last visit. And as for bringing those dowdy girls out in London, it's the last thing I shall think of doing. Indeed, I doubt whether they can afford to dress themselves.' As she went up to bed on the Tuesday evening, Miss Macnulty doubted whether the match would go on. She never believed her friend's statements; but if spoken words might be supposed to mean anything, Lady Eustace's words on that Tuesday betokened a strong dislike to everything appertaining to the Fawn family. She had even ridiculed Lord Fawn himself, declaring that he understood nothing about anything beyond his office.

And, in truth, Lizzie almost had made up her mind to break it off. All that she would gain did not seem to weigh down with sufficient preponderance all that she would lose. Such were her feelings on the Tuesday night. But on the Wednesday morning she received a note which threw her back violently upon the Fawn interest. The note was as follows. ‘Messrs Camperdown and Son present their compliments to Lady Eustace. They have received instructions to proceed by law for the recovery of the Eustace diamonds, now in Lady Eustace's hands, and will feel obliged to Lady Eustace if she will communicate to them the name and address of her attorney. 62, New Square, May 30, 186—.'
¹
The effect of this note was to drive Lizzie back upon the Fawn interest. She was frightened about the diamonds, and was, nevertheless, almost determined not to surrender them. At any rate, in such a strait she would want assistance, either in keeping them or in
giving them up. The lawyer's letter afflicted her with a sense of weakness, and there was strength in the Fawn connexion. As Lord Fawn was so poor, perhaps he would adhere to the jewels. She knew that she could not fight Mr Camperdown with no other assistance than what Messrs Mowbray and Mopus might give her, and therefore her heart softened towards her betrothed. ‘I suppose Frederic will be here today,' she said to Miss Macnulty, as they sat at breakfast together about noon. Miss Macnulty nodded. ‘You can have a cab, you know, if you like to go anywhere.' Miss Macnulty said she thought she would go to the National Gallery. ‘And you can walk back, you know,' said Lizzie. ‘I can walk there and back too,' said Miss Macnulty – in regard to whom it may be said that the last ounce would sometimes almost break the horse's back.

‘Frederic' came and was received very graciously. Lizzie had placed Mr Camperdown's note on the little table behind her, beneath the Bible, so that she might put her hand upon it at once, if she could make an opportunity of showing it to her future husband. ‘Frederic' sat himself beside her, and the intercourse for a while was such as might be looked for between two lovers of whom one was a widow, and the other an Under-Secretary of State from the India Office. They were loving, but discreetly amatory, talking chiefly of things material, each flattering the other, and each hinting now and again at certain little circumstances of which a more accurate knowledge seemed to be desirable. The one was conversant with things in general, but was slow; the other was quick as a lizard in turning hither and thither, but knew almost nothing. When she told Lord Fawn that the Ayrshire estate was ‘her own, to do what she liked with,' she did not know that he would certainly find out the truth from other sources before he married her. Indeed, she was not quite sure herself whether the statement was true or false, though she would not have made it so frequently had her idea of the truth been a fixed idea. It had all been explained to her; – but there had been something about a second son, and there was no second son. Perhaps she might have a second son yet – a future little Lord Fawn, and he might inherit it. In regard to honesty, the
man was superior to the woman, because his purpose was declared, and he told no lies; – but the one was as mercenary as the other. It was not love that had brought Lord Fawn to Mount Street.

‘What is the name of your place in Ireland?' she asked.

‘There is no house, you know.'

‘But there was one, Frederic?'

‘The town-land where the house used to be, is called Killeagent. The old demesne is called Killaud.'
²

‘What pretty names! and – and – ; does it go a great many miles?' Lord Fawn explained that it did run a good many miles up into the mountains. ‘How beautifully romantic!' said Lizzie. ‘But the people live on the mountain and pay rent?'

Lord Fawn asked no such inept questions respecting the Ayrshire property, but he did inquire who was Lizzie's solicitor. ‘Of course there will be things to be settled,' he said, ‘and my lawyer had better see yours. Mr Camperdown is a –'

‘Mr Camperdown!' almost shrieked Lizzie. Lord Fawn then explained, with some amazement, that Mr Camperdown was his lawyer. As far as his belief went, there was not a more respectable gentleman in the profession. Then he inquired whether Lizzie had any objection to Mr Camperdown. ‘Mr Camperdown was Sir Florian's lawyer,' said Lizzie.

‘That will make it all the easier, I should think,' said Lord Fawn.

‘I don't know how that may be,' said Lizzie, trying to bring her mind to work upon the subject steadily. ‘Mr Camperdown has been very uncourteous to me; –l must say that; and, as I think, unfair. He wishes to rob me now of a thing that is quite my own.'

‘What sort of a thing?' asked Lord Fawn slowly.

‘A very valuable thing. I'll tell you all about it, Frederic. Of course I'll tell you everything now. I never could keep back anything from one that I loved. It's not my nature. There; you might as well read that note.' Then she put her hand back and brought Mr Camperdown's letter from under the Bible. Lord Fawn read it very attentively, and as he read it there came upon him a great doubt. What sort of woman was this to whom he had engaged himself because she was possessed of an income? That Mr Camperdown
should be in the wrong in such a matter was an idea which never occurred to Lord Fawn. There is no form of belief stronger than that which the ordinary English gentleman has in the discretion and honesty of his own family lawyer. What his lawyer tells him to do, he does. What his lawyer tells him to sign, he signs. He buys and sells in obedience to the same direction, and feels perfectly comfortable in the possession of a guide who is responsible and all but divine. ‘What diamonds are they?' asked Lord Fawn in a very low voice.

‘They are my own – altogether my own. Sir Florian gave them to me. When he put them into my hands, he said that they were to be my own for ever and ever.“There,” said he – “those are yours to do what you choose with them.” After that they oughtn't to ask me to give them back – ought they? If you had been married before, and your wife had given you a keepsake – to keep for ever and ever, would you give it up to a lawyer? You would not like it; – would you, Frederic?' She had put her hand on his, and was looking up into his face as she asked the question. Again, perhaps, the acting was a little overdone; but there were tears in her eyes, and the tone of her voice was perfect.

‘Mr Camperdown calls them Eustace diamonds – family diamonds,' said Lord Fawn. ‘What do they consist of? What are they worth?'

‘I'll show them to you,' said Lizzie, jumping up and hurrying out of the room. Lord Fawn, when he was alone, rubbed his hands over his eyes and thought about it all. It would be a very harsh measure, on the part of the Eustace family and of Mr Camperdown, to demand from her the surrender of any trinket which her late husband might have given her in the manner described. But it was, to his thinking, most improbable that the Eustace people or the lawyer should be harsh to a widow bearing the Eustace name. The Eustaces were by disposition lavish, and old Mr Camperdown was not one who would be strict in claiming little things for rich clients. And yet here was his letter, threatening the widow of the late baronet with legal proceedings for the recovery of jewels which had been given by Sir Florian himself to his wife as a keepsake? Perhaps Sir Florian had made some
mistake, and had caused to be set in a ring or brooch for his bride some jewel which he had thought to be his own, but which had, in truth, been an heirloom. If so, the jewel should, of course, be surrendered – or replaced by one of equal value. He was making out some such solution, when Lizzie returned with the morocco case in her hand. ‘It was the manner in which he gave it to me,' said Lizzie, as she opened the clasp, ‘which makes its value to me.'

Lord Fawn knew nothing about jewels, but even he knew that if the circle of stones which he saw, with a Maltese cross appended to it, was constituted of real diamonds, the thing must be of great value. And it occurred to him at once that such a necklace is not given by a husband even to a bride in the manner described by Lizzie. A ring, or brooch, or perhaps a bracelet, a lover or a loving lord may bring in his pocket. But such an ornament as this on which Lord Fawn was now looking, is given in another sort of way. He felt sure that it was so, even though he was entirely ignorant of the value of the stones. ‘Do you know what it is worth?' he asked.

Lizzie hesitated a moment, and then remembered that ‘Frederic,' in his present position in regard to herself, might be glad to assist her in maintaining the possession of a substantial property. ‘I think, they say its value is about – ten thousand pounds,' she replied.

‘Ten – thousand – pounds!' Lord Fawn riveted his eyes upon them.

‘That's what I'm told – by a jeweller.'

‘By what jeweller?'

‘A man had to come and see them – about some repairs – or something of that kind. Poor Sir Florian wished it. And he said so.'

‘What was the man's name?'

‘I forget his name,' said Lizzie, who was not quite sure whether her acquaintance with Mr Benjamin would be considered respectable.

‘Ten thousand pounds! You don't keep them in the house; – do you?'

‘I have an iron case upstairs for them; – ever so heavy.'

‘And did Sir Florian give you the iron case?'

Lizzie hesitated for a moment. ‘Yes,' said she. ‘That is – no. But he ordered it to be made; and then it came – after he was – dead.'

‘He knew their value, then?'

‘Oh dear, yes. Though he never named any sum. He told me, however, that they were very – very valuable.'

Lord Fawn did not immediately recognize the falseness of every word that the woman said to him, because he was slow and could not think and hear at the same time. But he was at once involved in a painful maze of doubt and almost of dismay. An action for the recovery of jewels brought against the lady whom he was engaged to marry, on behalf of the family of her late husband, would not suit him at all. To have his hands quite clean, to be above all evil report, to be respectable, as it were all round, was Lord Fawn's special ambition. He was a poor man, and a greedy man, but he would have abandoned his official salary at a moment's notice, rather than there should have fallen on him a breath of public opinion hinting that it ought to be abandoned. He was especially timid, and lived in a perpetual fear lest the newspapers should say something hard of him. In that matter of the Sawab he had been very wretched, because Frank Greystock had accused him of being an administrator of tyranny. He would have liked his wife to have ten thousand pounds' worth of diamonds very well; but he would rather go without a wife for ever – and without a wife's fortune – than marry a woman subject to an action for claiming diamonds not her own. ‘I think,' said he, at last, ‘that if you were to put them into Mr Camperdown's hands –'

‘Into Mr Camperdown's hands!'

‘And then let the matter be settled by arbitration –'

‘Arbitration? That means going to law?'

‘No, dearest – that means not going to law. The diamonds would be entrusted to Mr Camperdown. And then some one would be appointed to decide whose property they were.'

‘They're my property,' said Lizzie.

‘But he says they belong to the family.'

‘He'll say anything,' said Lizzie.