The Eustace Diamonds (66 page)

Lord Fawn felt strongly the necessity of clinging to the diamonds as his one great and sufficient justification. ‘I thought,' said he, ‘that Mr Camperdown had abandoned his action for the present because the jewels had been stolen.'

‘Not a bit of it,' said Lizzie, rising suddenly to her legs. ‘Who says so? Who dares to say so? Whoever says so is – is a storyteller. I understand all about that. The action could go on just the same, and I could be made to pay for the necklace out of my own income if it hadn't been my own. I am sure, Lord Fawn, such a clever man as you, and one who has always been in the Government and in Parliament, can see that. And will anybody believe that such an enemy as Mr Camperdown has been to me, persecuting me in every possible way, telling lies about me to everybody – who tried to prevent my dear, darling husband from marrying me – that he wouldn't go on with it if he could?'

‘Mr Camperdown is a very respectable man, Lady Eustace.'

‘Respectable! Talk to me of respectable after all that he has made me suffer! As you were so fond of making inquiries, Lord Fawn, you ought to have gone on with them. You never would believe what my cousin said.'

‘Your cousin always behaved very badly to me.'

‘My cousin, who is a brother rather than a cousin, has known how to protect me from the injuries done to me – or, rather, has known how to take my part when I have been injured. My lord, as you have been unwilling to believe him, why have you not gone to that gentleman who, as I say, is a real lawyer? I don't know, my lord, that it need have concerned you at all, but as you began, you surely should have gone on with it. Don't you think so?' She was still standing up, and, small as was her stature, was almost menacing the unfortunate Under-Secretary of State, who was still seated in his chair. ‘My lord,' continued Lizzie, ‘I have had great wrong done me.'

‘Do you mean by me?'

‘
Yes
, by you. Who else has done it?'

‘I do not think that I have done wrong to anyone. I was obliged to say that I could not recognize those diamonds as the property of my wife.'

‘But what right had you to say so? I had the diamonds when you asked me to be your wife.'

‘I did not know it.'

‘Nor did you know that I had this little ring upon my finger. Is it fit that you, or that any man should turn round upon a lady and say to her that your word is to be broken, and that she is to be exposed before all her friends, because you have taken a fancy to dislike her ring or her brooch? I say, Lord Fawn, it was no business of yours, even after you were engaged to me. What jewels I might have, or not have, was no concern of yours till after I had become your wife. Go and ask all the world if it is not so? You say that my cousin affronts you because he takes my part – like a brother. Ask anyone else. Ask any lady you may know. Let us name someone to decide between us which of us has been wrong. Lady Glencora Palliser is a friend of yours, and her husband is in the Government. Shall we name her? It is true, indeed, that her uncle, the Duke of Omnium, the grandest and greatest of English noblemen, is specially interested on my behalf.' This was very fine in Lizzie. The Duke of Omnium she had never seen; but his name had been mentioned to her by Lady Glencora, and she was quick to use it.

‘I can admit of no reference to anyone,' said Lord Fawn.

‘And I then – what am I to do? I am to be thrown over simply because your lordship – chooses to throw me over. Your lordship will admit no reference to anyone! Your lordship makes inquiries as long as an attorney tells you stories against me, but drops them at once when the attorney is made to understand that he is wrong. Tell me this, sir. Can you justify yourself – in your own heart?'

Unfortunately for Lord Fawn, he was not sure that he could justify himself. The diamonds were gone, and the action was laid aside, and the general opinion which had prevailed a month or
two since, that Lizzie had been disreputably concerned in stealing her own necklace, seemed to have been laid aside. Lady Glencora and the duke went for almost as much with Lord Fawn as they did with Lizzie. No doubt the misbehaviour down among the rocks was left to him; but he had that only on the evidence of Andy Gowran – and even Andy Gowran's evidence he had declined to receive otherwise than second-hand. Lizzie, too, was prepared with an answer to this charge – an answer which she had already made more than once, though the charge was not positively brought against her, and which consisted in an assertion that Frank Greystock was her brother rather than her cousin. Such brotherhood was not altogether satisfactory to Lord Fawn, when he came once more to regard Lizzie Eustace as his possible future wife; but still the assertion was an answer, and one that he could not altogether reject.

It certainly was the case that he had again begun to think what would be the result of a marriage with Lady Eustace. He must sever himself altogether from Mrs Hittaway, and must relax the closeness of his relations with Fawn Court. He would have a wife respecting whom he himself had spread evil tidings, and the man whom he most hated in the world would be his wife's favourite cousin, or, so to say – brother. He would, after a fashion, be connected with Mrs Carbuncle, Lord George de Bruce Carruthers, and Sir Griffin Tewett, all of whom he regarded as thoroughly disreputable. And, moreover, at his own country house at Portray, as in such case it would be, his own bailiff or steward would be the man who had seen – what he had seen. These were great objections; but how was he to avoid marrying her? He was engaged to her. How, at any rate, was he to escape from the renewal of his engagement at this moment? He had more than once positively stated that he was deterred from marrying her, only by her possession of the diamonds. The diamonds were now gone.

Lizzie was still standing, waiting for an answer to her question – Can you justify yourself in your own heart? Having paused for some seconds, she repeated her question in a stronger and more personal form. ‘Had I been your sister, Lord Fawn, and had
another man behaved to me as you have now done, would you say that he had behaved well, and that she had no ground for complaint? Can you bring yourself to answer that question honestly?'

‘I hope I shall answer no question dishonestly.'

‘Answer it then. No; you cannot answer it, because you would condemn yourself. Now, Lord Fawn, What do you mean to do?'

‘I had thought, Lady Eustace, that any regard which you might ever have entertained for me –'

‘Well ; – what had you thought of my regard?'

‘That it had been dissipated.'

‘Have I told you so? Has anyone come to you from me with such a message?'

‘Have you not received attentions from anyone else?'

‘Attentions; – what attentions? I have received plenty of attentions – most flattering attentions. I was honoured even this morning by a most gratifying attention on the part of his grace the Duke of Omnium.'

‘I did not mean that.'

‘What do you mean, then? I am not going to marry the Duke of Omnium because of his attention – nor anyone else. If you mean, sir, after the other inquiries you have done me the honour to make, to throw it in my face now, that I have – have in any way rendered myself unworthy of the position of your wife because people have been civil and kind to me in my sorrow, you are a greater dastard than I took you to be. Tell me at once, sir, whom you mean.'

It is hardly too much to say that the man quailed before her. And it certainly is not too much to say that, had Lizzie Eustace been trained as an actress, she would have become a favourite with the town. When there came to her any fair scope for acting, she was perfect. In the ordinary scenes of ordinary life, such as befell her during her visit to Fawn Court, she could not acquit herself well. There was no reality about her, and the want of it was strangely plain to most unobservant eyes. But give her a part to play that required exaggerated strong action, and she hardly ever failed. Even in that terrible moment, when, on her return
from the theatre, she thought that the police had discovered her secret about the diamonds, though she nearly sank through fear, she still carried on her acting in the presence of Lucinda Roanoke; and when she had found herself constrained to tell the truth to Lord George Carruthers, the power to personify a poor weak, injured creature was not wanting to her. The reader will not think that her position in society at the present moment was very well established – will feel, probably, that she must still have known herself to be on the brink of social ruin. But she had now fully worked herself up to the necessities of the occasion, and was as able to play her part as any actress that ever walked the boards. She had called him a dastard, and now stood looking him in the face. I didn't mean anybody in particular' said Lord Fawn.

‘Then what right can you have to ask me whether I have received attentions? Had it not been for the affectionate attention of my cousin, Mr Greystock, I should have died beneath the load of sorrow you have heaped upon me!' This she said quite boldly, and yet the man she named was he of whom Andy Gowran told his horrid story, and whose love-making to Lizzie had, in Mrs Hittaway's opinion, been sufficient to atone for any falling off in strength in the matter of the diamonds.

‘A rumour reached me,' said Lord Fawn, plucking up his courage, ‘that you were engaged to marry your cousin.'

‘Then rumour lied, my lord. And he or she who repeated the rumour to you, lied also. And any he or she who repeats it again will go on with the lie.' Lord Fawn's brow became very black. The word ‘lie', itself, was offensive to him – offensive, even though it might not be applied directly to himself; but he still quailed, and was unable to express his indignation – as he had done to poor Lucy Morris, his mother's governess. ‘And now let me ask, Lord Fawn, on what ground you and I stand together. When my friend, Lady Glencora, asked me, only this morning, whether my engagement with you was still an existing fact, and brought me the kindest possible message on the same subject from her uncle, the duke, I hardly knew what answer to make to her.' It was not surprising that Lizzie in her difficulties should use her
new friend, but perhaps she over-did the friendship a little. 1 told her that we were engaged, but that your lordship's conduct to me had been so strange, that I hardly knew how to speak of you among my friends'

‘I thought I explained myself to your cousin.'

‘My cousin certainly did not understand your explanation.'

Lord Fawn was certain that Greystock had understood it well; and Greystock had in return insulted him – because the engagement was broken off. But it is impossible to argue on facts with a woman who has been ill-used. ‘After all that has passed, perhaps we had better part,' said Lord Fawn.

‘Then I shall put the matter into the hands of the Duke of Omnium,' said Lizzie boldly. ‘I will not have my whole life ruined, my good name blasted –'

‘I have not said a word to injure your good name.'

‘On what plea, then, have you dared to take upon yourself to put an end to an engagement which was made at your own pressing request – which was, of course, made at your own request. On what ground do you justify such conduct? You are a Liberal, Lord Fawn; and everybody regards the Duke of Omnium as the head of the Liberal nobility in England. He is my friend, and I shall put the matter into his hands.' It was, probably, from her cousin Frank that Lizzie had learned that Lord Fawn was more afraid of the leaders of his own party than of any other tribunal upon earth – or, perhaps, elsewhere.

Lord Fawn felt the absurdity of the threat, and yet it had effect upon him. He knew that the Duke of Omnium was a worn-out old debauchee, with one foot in the grave, who was looked after by two or three women who were only anxious that he should not disgrace himself by some absurdity
¹
before he died. Nevertheless, the Duke of Omnium, or the duke's name, was a power in the nation. Lady Glencora was certainly very powerful, and Lady Glencora's husband was Chancellor of the Exchequer. He did not suppose that the Duke cared in the least whether Lizzie Eustace was or was not married; – but Lady Glencora had certainly interested herself about Lizzie, and might make London almost too hot to hold him if she chose to go about everywhere
saying that he ought to marry the lady. And in addition to all this prospective grief, there was the trouble of the present moment. He was in Lizzie's own room – fool that he had been to come there – and he must get out as best he could. ‘Lady Eustace,' lie said, ‘I am most anxious not to behave badly in this matter.'

‘But you are behaving badly – very badly.'

‘With your leave I will tell you what I would suggest. I will submit to you in writing my opinion on this matter;' – Lord Fawn had been all his life submitting his opinion in writing, and thought that he was rather a good hand at the work. ‘I will then endeavour to explain to you the reasons which make me think that it will be better for us both that our engagement should be at an end. If, after reading it, you shall disagree with me, and still insist on the right which I gave you when I asked you to become my wife – I will then perform the promise which I certainly made.' To this most foolish proposal on his part, Lizzie, of course, acquiesced. She acquiesced, and bade him farewell with her sweetest smile. It was now manifest to her that she could have her husband – or her revenge, just as she might prefer.

This had been a day of triumph to her, and she was talking of it in the evening triumphantly to Mrs Carbuncle, when she was told that a policeman wanted to see her downstairs! Oh, those wretched police! Again all the blood rushed to her head, and nearly killed her. She descended slowly; and was then informed by a man, not dressed, like Bunfit, in plain clothes, but with all the paraphernalia of a policeman's uniform, that her late servant, Patience Crabstick, had given herself up as Queen's evidence, and was now in custody in Scotland Yard. It had been thought right that she should be so far informed; but the man was able to tell her nothing further.