The Palliser Novels (221 page)

Frederic’s face had become very long, and he was much disturbed in his mind. He could only suggest that he himself would go and see Mr. Camperdown, and ascertain what ought to be done. To the last, he adhered to his assurance that Mr. Camperdown could do no evil; — till Lizzie, in her wrath, asked him whether he believed Mr. Camperdown’s word before hers. “I think he would understand a matter of business better than you,” said the prudent lover.

“He wants to rob me,” said Lizzie, “and I shall look to you to prevent it.”

When Lord Fawn took his leave, — which he did not do till he had counselled her again and again to leave the matter in Mr. Camperdown’s hands, — the two were not in good accord together. It was his fixed purpose, as he declared to her, to see Mr. Camperdown; and it was her fixed purpose, — so, at least, she declared to him, — to keep the diamonds, in spite of Mr. Camperdown. “But, my dear, if it’s decided against you — ” said Lord Fawn gravely.

“It can’t be decided against me, if you stand by me as you ought to do.”

“I can do nothing,” said Lord Fawn, in a tremor. Then Lizzie looked at him, — and her look, which was very eloquent, called him a poltroon as plain as a look could speak. Then they parted, and the signs of affection between them were not satisfactory.

The door was hardly closed behind him before Lizzie began to declare to herself that he shouldn’t escape her. It was not yet twenty-four hours since she had been telling herself that she did not like the engagement and would break it off; and now she was stamping her little feet, and clenching her little hands, and swearing to herself by all her gods, that this wretched, timid lordling should not get out of her net. She did, in truth, despise him because he would not clutch the jewels. She looked upon him as mean and paltry because he was willing to submit to Mr. Camperdown. But still she was prompted to demand all that could be demanded from her engagement, — because she thought that she perceived a something in him which might produce in him a desire to be relieved from it. No! he should not be relieved. He should marry her. And she would keep the key of that iron box with the diamonds, and he should find what sort of a noise she would make if he attempted to take it from her. She closed the morocco case, ascended with it to her bed-room, locked it up in the iron safe, deposited the little patent key in its usual place round her neck, and then seated herself at her desk, and wrote letters to her various friends, making known to them her engagement. Hitherto she had told no one but Miss Macnulty, — and, in her doubts, had gone so far as to desire Miss Macnulty not to mention it. Now she was resolved to blazon forth her engagement before all the world.

The first “friend” to whom she wrote was Lady Linlithgow. The reader shall see two or three of her letters, and that to the countess shall be the first.
 

My dear Aunt
,

When you came to see me the other day, I cannot say that you were very kind to me, and I don’t suppose you care very much what becomes of me. But I think it right to let you know that I am going to be married. I am engaged to Lord Fawn, who, as you know, is a peer, and a member of Her Majesty’s Government, and a nobleman of great influence. I do not suppose that even you can say anything against such an alliance.

I am, your affectionate niece,

Eli. Eustace
.
 

Then she wrote to Mrs. Eustace, the wife of the Bishop of Bobsborough. Mrs. Eustace had been very kind to her in the first days of her widowhood, and had fully recognised her as the widow of the head of her husband’s family. Lizzie had liked none of the Bobsborough people. They were, according to her ideas, slow, respectable, and dull. But they had not found much open fault with her, and she was aware that it was for her interest to remain on good terms with them. Her letter, therefore, to Mrs. Eustace was somewhat less acrid than that written to her aunt Linlithgow.
 

My dear Mrs. Eustace
,

I hope you will be glad to hear from me, and will not be sorry to hear my news. I am going to be married again. Of course I am not about to take a step which is in every way so very important without thinking about it a great deal. But I am sure it will be better for my darling little Florian in every way; and as for myself, I have felt for the last two years how unfitted I have been to manage everything myself. I have therefore accepted an offer made to me by Lord Fawn, who is, as you know, a peer of Parliament, and a most distinguished member of Her Majesty’s Government; and he is, too, a nobleman of very great influence in every respect, and has a property in Ireland, extending over ever so many miles, and running up into the mountains. His mansion there is called Killmage, but I am not sure that I remember the name quite rightly. I hope I may see you there some day, and the dear bishop. I look forward with delight to doing something to make those dear Irish happier. The idea of rambling up into our own mountains charms me, for nothing suits my disposition so well as that kind of solitude.

Of course Lord Fawn is not so rich a man as Sir Florian, but I have never looked to riches for my happiness. Not but what Lord Fawn has a good income from his Irish estates; and then, of course, he is paid for doing Her Majesty’s Government; — so there is no fear that he will have to live upon my jointure, which, of course, would not be right. Pray tell the dear bishop and dear Margaretta all this, with my love. You will be happy, I know, to hear that my little Flo is quite well. He is already so fond of his new papa! [Lizzie’s turn for lying was exemplified in this last statement, for, as it happened, Lord Fawn had never yet seen the child.]

Believe me to be always your most affectionate niece,

Eli. Eustace
.
 

There were two other letters, — one to her uncle, the dean, and the other to her cousin Frank. There was great doubt in her mind as to the expediency of writing to Frank Greystock; but at last she decided that she would do it. The letter to the dean need not be given in full, as it was very similar to that written to the bishop’s wife. The same mention was made of her intended husband’s peerage, and the same allusion to Her Majesty’s Government, — a phrase which she had heard from Lord Fawn himself. She spoke of the Irish property, but in terms less glowing than she had used in writing to the lady, and ended by asking for her uncle’s congratulation — and blessing. Her letter to Frank was as follows, and, doubtless, as she wrote it, there was present to her mind a remembrance of the fact that he himself might have offered to her, and have had her if he would.
 

My dear Cousin
,

As I would rather that you should hear my news from myself than from any one else, I write to tell you that I am going to be married to Lord Fawn. Of course I know that there are certain matters as to which you and Lord Fawn do not agree, — in politics, I mean; but still I do not doubt but you will think that he is quite able to take care of your poor little cousin. It was only settled a day or two since, but it has been coming on ever so long. You understand all about that; — don’t you? Of course you must come to my wedding, and be very good to me, — a kind of brother, you know; for we have always been friends; — haven’t we? And if the dean doesn’t come up to town, you must give me away. And you must come and see me ever so often; for I have a sort of feeling that I have no one else belonging to me that I can call really my own, except you. And you must be great friends with Lord Fawn, and must give up saying that he doesn’t do his work properly. Of course he does everything better than anybody else could possibly do it, — except Cousin Frank.

I am going down next week to Richmond. Lady Fawn has insisted on my staying there for a fortnight. Oh, dear, what shall I do all the time? You must positively come down and see me, — and see somebody else too! Only, you naughty coz! you mustn’t break a poor girl’s heart.

Your affectionate cousin,

Eli. Eustace
.
 

Somebody, in speaking on Lady Eustace’s behalf, and making the best of her virtues, had declared that she did not have lovers. Hitherto that had been true of her; — but her mind had not the less dwelt on the delight of a lover. She still thought of a possible Corsair who would be willing to give up all but his vices for her love, and for whose sake she would be willing to share even them. It was but a dream, but nevertheless it pervaded her fancy constantly. Lord Fawn, — peer of Parliament, and member of Her Majesty’s Government, as he was, — could not have been such a lover to her. Might it not be possible that there should exist something of romance between her and her cousin Frank? She was the last woman in the world to run away with a man, or to endanger her position by a serious indiscretion; but there might, perhaps, be a something between her and her cousin, — a liaison quite correct in its facts, a secret understanding, if nothing more, — a mutual sympathy, which should be chiefly shown in the abuse of all their friends, — and in this she could indulge her passion for romance and poetry.

The news was soon all about London, — as Lizzie had intended. She had made a sudden resolve that Lord Fawn should not escape her, and she had gone to work after the fashion we have seen. Frank Greystock had told John Eustace, and John Eustace had told Mr. Camperdown before Lord Fawn himself, in the slow prosecution of his purpose, had consulted the lawyer about the necklace. “God bless my soul; — Lord Fawn!” the old lawyer had said when the news was communicated to him. “Well, — yes; — he wants money. I don’t envy him; that’s all. We shall get the diamonds now, John. Lord Fawn isn’t the man to let his wife keep what doesn’t belong to her.” Then, after a day or two, Lord Fawn had himself gone to Mr. Camperdown’s chambers. “I believe I am to congratulate you, my lord,” said the lawyer. “I’m told you are going to marry — ; well, I mustn’t really say another of my clients, but the widow of one of them. Lady Eustace is a very beautiful woman, and she has a very pretty income too. She has the whole of the Scotch property for her life.”

“It’s only for her life, I suppose?” said Lord Fawn.

“Oh, no, no; — of course not. There’s been some mistake on her part; — at least, so I’ve been told. Women never understand. It’s all as clear as daylight. Had there been a second son, the second son would have had it. As it is, it goes with the rest of the property — just as it ought to do, you know. Four thousand a year isn’t so bad, you know, considering that she isn’t more than a girl yet, and that she hadn’t sixpence of her own. When the admiral died, there wasn’t sixpence, Lord Fawn.”

“So I have heard.”

“Not sixpence. It’s all Eustace money. She had six or eight thousand pounds, or something like that, besides. She’s as lovely a young widow as I ever saw, — and very clever.”

“Yes; — she is clever.”

“By-the-bye, Lord Fawn, as you have done me the honour of calling, — there’s a stupid mistake about some family diamonds.”

“It is in respect to them that I’ve come,” said Lord Fawn. Then Mr. Camperdown, in his easy, off-hand way, imputing no blame to the lady in the hearing of her future husband, and declaring his opinion that she was doubtless unaware of its value, explained the matter of the necklace. Lord Fawn listened, but said very little. He especially did not say that Lady Eustace had had the stones valued. “They’re real, I suppose?” he asked. Mr. Camperdown assured him that no diamonds more real had ever come from Golconda, or passed through Mr. Garnett’s hands. “They are as well known as any family diamonds in England,” said Mr. Camperdown. “She has got into bad hands,” — continued Mr. Camperdown. “Mowbray and Mopus; — horrible people; sharks, that make one blush for one’s profession; and I was really afraid there would have been trouble. But, of course, it’ll be all right now; — and if she’ll only come to me, tell her I’ll do everything I can to make things straight and comfortable for her. If she likes to have another lawyer, of course, that’s all right. Only make her understand who Mowbray and Mopus are. It’s quite out of the question, Lord Fawn, that your wife should have anything to do with Mowbray and Mopus.” Every word that Mr. Camperdown said was gospel to Lord Fawn.

And yet, as the reader will understand, Mr. Camperdown had by no means expressed his real opinion in this interview. He had spoken of the widow in friendly terms, — declaring that she was simply mistaken in her ideas as to the duration of her interest in the Scotch property, and mistaken again about the diamonds; — whereas in truth he regarded her as a dishonest, lying, evil-minded harpy. Had Lord Fawn consulted him simply as a client, and not have come to him an engaged lover, he would have expressed his opinion quite frankly; but it is not the business of a lawyer to tell his client evil things of the lady whom that client is engaged to marry. In regard to the property he spoke the truth, and he spoke what he believed to be the truth when he said that the whole thing would no doubt now be easily arranged. When Lord Fawn took his leave, Mr. Camperdown again declared to himself that as regarded money the match was very well for his lordship; but that, as regarded the woman, Lizzie was dear at the price. “Perhaps he doesn’t mind it,” said Mr. Camperdown to himself, “but I wouldn’t marry such a woman myself, though she owned all Scotland.”

There had been much in the interview to make Lord Fawn unhappy. In the first place, that golden hope as to the perpetuity of the property was at an end. He had never believed that it was so; but a man may hope without believing. And he was quite sure that Lizzie was bound to give up the diamonds, — and would ultimately be made to give them up. Of any property in them, as possibly accruing to himself, he had not thought much; — but he could not abstain from thinking of the woman’s grasp upon them. Mr. Camperdown’s plain statement, which was gospel to him, was directly at variance with Lizzie’s story. Sir Florian certainly would not have given such diamonds in such a way. Sir Florian would not have ordered a separate iron safe for them, with a view that they might be secure in his wife’s bed-room. And then she had had them valued, and manifestly was always thinking of her treasure. It was very well for a poor, careful peer to be always thinking of his money, but Lord Fawn was well aware that a young woman such as Lady Eustace should have her thoughts elsewhere. As he sat signing letters at the India Board, relieving himself when he was left alone between each batch by standing up with his back to the fire-place, his mind was full of all this. He could not unravel truth quickly, but he could grasp it when it came to him. She was certainly greedy, false, and dishonest. And, — worse than all this, — she had dared to tell him to his face that he was a poor creature because he would not support her in her greed, and falsehoods, and dishonesty! Nevertheless, he was engaged to marry her! Then he thought of one Violet Effingham whom he had loved, and then came over him some suspicion of a fear that he himself was hard and selfish. And yet what was such a one as he to do? It was of course necessary for the maintenance of the very constitution of his country that there should be future Lord Fawns. There could be no future Lord Fawns unless he married; — and how could he marry without money? “A peasant can marry whom he pleases,” said Lord Fawn, pressing his hand to his brow, and dropping one flap of his coat, as he thought of his own high and perilous destiny, standing with his back to the fire-place, while a huge pile of letters lay there before him waiting to be signed.