DISAPPOINTMENT.
On the lee-beam lies the land, boys,
See all clear to reef each course;
Let the fore-sheet go, don't mind, boys,
Though the weather should be worse.
_The Storm._
"It darkens round me like a tempest," thought Lord Etherington, as, with
slow step, folded arms, and his white hat slouched over his brows, he
traversed the short interval of space betwixt his own apartments and
those of the Lady Penelope. In a buck of the old school, one of
Congreve's men of wit and pleasure about town, this would have been a
departure from character; but the present fine man does not derogate
from his quality, even by exhibiting all the moody and gentlemanlike
solemnity of Master Stephen.[II-C] So, Lord Etherington was at liberty to
carry on his reflections, without attracting observation.--"I have put a
stopper into the mouth of that old vinegar-cruet of quality, but the
acidity of her temper will soon dissolve the charm--And what to do?"
As he looked round him, he saw his trusty valet Solmes, who, touching
his hat with due respect, said, as he passed him, "Your lordship's
letters are in your private dispatch-box."
Simple as these words were, and indifferent the tone in which they were
spoken, their import made Lord Etherington's heart bound as if his fate
had depended on the accents. He intimated no farther interest in the
communication, however, than to desire Solmes to be below, in case he
should ring; and with these words entered his apartment, and barred and
bolted the door, even before he looked on the table where his
dispatch-box was placed.
Lord Etherington had, as is usual, one key to the box which held his
letters, his confidential servant being intrusted with the other; so
that, under the protection of a patent lock, his dispatches escaped all
risk of being tampered with,--a precaution not altogether unnecessary on
the part of those who frequent hotels and lodging-houses.
"By your leave, Mr. Bramah," said the Earl, as he applied the key,
jesting, as it were, with his own agitation, as he would have done with
that of a third party. The lid was raised, and displayed the packet, the
appearance and superscription of which had attracted his observation but
a short while before in the post-office. _Then_ he would have given much
to be possessed of the opportunity which was now in his power; but many
pause on the brink of a crime, who have contemplated it at a distance
without scruple. Lord Etherington's first impulse had led him to poke
the fire; and he held in his hand the letter which he was more than half
tempted to commit, without even breaking the seal, to the fiery element.
But, though sufficiently familiarized with guilt, he was not as yet
acquainted with it in its basest shapes--he had not yet acted with
meanness, or at least with what the world terms such. He had been a
duellist, the manners of the age authorized it--a libertine, the world
excused it to his youth and condition--a bold and successful gambler,
for that quality he was admired and envied; and a thousand other
inaccuracies, to which these practices and habits lead, were easily
slurred over in a man of quality, with fortune and spirit to support his
rank. But his present meditated act was of a different kind. Tell it not
in Bond Street, whisper it not on St. James's pavement!--it amounted to
an act of petty larceny, for which the code of honour would admit of no
composition.
Lord Etherington, under the influence of these recollections, stood for
a few minutes suspended--But the devil always finds logic to convince
his followers. He recollected the wrong done to his mother, and to
himself, her offspring, to whom his father had, in the face of the whole
world, imparted the hereditary rights, of which he was now, by a
posthumous deed, endeavouring to deprive the memory of the one and the
expectations of the other. Surely, the right being his own, he had a
full title, by the most effectual means, whatever such means might be,
to repel all attacks on that right, and even destroy, if necessary, the
documents by which his enemies were prosecuting their unjust plans
against his honour and interest.
This reasoning prevailed, and Lord Etherington again held the devoted
packet above the flames; when it occurred to him, that, his resolution
being taken, he ought to carry it into execution as effectually as
possible; and to do so, it was necessary to know, that the packet
actually contained the papers which he was desirous to destroy.
Never did a doubt arise in juster time; for no sooner had the seal
burst, and the envelope rustled under his fingers, than he perceived, to
his utter consternation, that he held in his hand only the copies of
the deeds for which Francis Tyrrel had written, the originals of which
he had too sanguinely concluded would be forwarded according to his
requisition. A letter from a partner of the house with which they were
deposited, stated, that they had not felt themselves at liberty, in the
absence of the head of their firm, to whom these papers had been
committed, to part with them even to Mr. Tyrrel, though they had
proceeded so far as to open the parcel, and now transmitted to him
formal copies of the papers contained in it, which, they presumed, would
serve Mr. Tyrrel's purpose for consulting counsel, or the like. They
themselves, in a case of so much delicacy, and in the absence of their
principal partner, were determined to retain the originals, unless
called to produce them in a court of justice.
With a solemn imprecation on the formality and absurdity of the writer,
Lord Etherington let the letter of advice drop from his hand into the
fire, and throwing himself into a chair, passed his hand across his
eyes, as if their very power of sight had been blighted by what he had
read. His title, and his paternal fortune, which he thought but an
instant before might be rendered unchallengeable by a single movement of
his hand, seemed now on the verge of being lost for ever. His rapid
recollection failed not to remind him of what was less known to the
world, that his early and profuse expenditure had greatly dilapidated
his maternal fortune; and that the estate of Nettlewood, which five
minutes ago he only coveted as a wealthy man desires increase of his
store, must now be acquired, if he would avoid being a poor and
embarrassed spendthrift. To impede his possessing himself of this
property, fate had restored to the scene the penitent of the morning,
who, as he had too much reason to believe, was returned to this
neighbourhood, to do justice to Clara Mowbray, and who was not unlikely
to put the whole story of the marriage on its right footing. She,
however, might be got rid of; and it might still be possible to hurry
Miss Mowbray, by working on her fears, or through the agency of her
brother, into a union with him while he still preserved the title of
Lord Etherington. This, therefore, he resolved to secure, if effort or
if intrigue could carry the point; nor was it the least consideration,
that, should he succeed, he would obtain over Tyrrel, his successful
rival, such a triumph, as would be sufficient to embitter the
tranquillity of his whole life.
In a few minutes, his rapid and contriving invention had formed a plan
for securing the sole advantage which seemed to remain open for him; and
conscious that he had no time to lose, he entered immediately upon the
execution.
The bell summoned Solmes to his lordship's apartment, when the Earl, as
coolly as if he had hoped to dupe his experienced valet by such an
assertion, said, "You have brought me a packet designed for some man at
the Aultoun--let it be sent to him--Stay,--I will re-seal it first."
He accordingly re-sealed the packet, containing all the writings,
excepting the letter of advice, (which he had burnt,) and gave it to the
valet, with the caution, "I wish you would not make such blunders in
future."
"I beg your lordship's pardon--I will take better care again--thought it
was addressed to your lordship."
So answered Solmes, too knowing to give the least look of intelligence,
far less to remind the Earl that his own directions had occasioned the
mistake of which he complained.
"Solmes," continued the Earl, "you need not mention your blunder at the
post-office; it would only occasion tattle in this idle place--but be
sure that the gentleman has his letter.--And, Solmes, I see Mr. Mowbray
walk across--ask him to dine with me to-day at five. I have a headache,
and cannot face the clamour of the savages who feed at the public
table.--And let me see--make my compliments to Lady Penelope
Penfeather--I will certainly have the honour of waiting on her ladyship
this evening to tea, agreeably to her very boring invitation
received--write her a proper card, and word it your own way. Bespeak
dinner for two, and see you have some of that batch of Burgundy." The
servant was retiring, when his master added, "Stay a moment--I have a
more important business than I have yet mentioned.--Solmes, you have
managed devilish ill about the woman Irwin!"
"I, my lord?" answered Solmes.
"Yes, you, sir--did you not tell me she had gone to the West Indies with
a friend of yours, and did not I give them a couple of hundred pounds
for passage-money?"
"Yes, my lord," replied the valet.
"Ay, but now it proves _no_, my lord," said Lord Etherington; "for she
has found her way back to this country in miserable plight--half-starved,
and, no doubt, willing to do or say any thing for a livelihood--How has
this happened?"
"Biddulph must have taken her cash, and turned her loose, my lord,"
answered Solmes, as if he had been speaking of the most commonplace
transaction in the world; "but I know the woman's nature so well, and am
so much master of her history, that I can carry her off the country in
twenty-four hours, and place her where she will never think of
returning, provided your lordship can spare me so long."
"About it directly--but I can tell you, that you will find the woman in
a very penitential humour, and very ill in health to boot."
"I am sure of my game," answered Solmes; "with submission to your
lordship, I think if death and her good angel had hold of one of that
woman's arms, the devil and I could make a shift to lead her away by the
other."
"Away and about it, then," said Etherington. "But, hark ye, Solmes, be
kind to her, and see all her wants relieved. I have done her mischief
enough--though nature and the devil had done half the work to my hand."
Solmes at length was permitted to withdraw to execute his various
commissions, with an assurance that his services would not be wanted for
the next twenty-four hours.
"Soh!" said the Earl, as his agent withdrew, "there is a spring put in
motion, which, well oiled, will move the whole machine--And here, in
lucky time, comes Harry Jekyl--I hear his whistle on the stairs.--There
is a silly lightness of heart about that fellow, which I envy, while I
despise it; but he is welcome now, for I want him."
Jekyl entered accordingly, and broke out with "I am glad to see one of
your fellows laying a cloth for two in your parlour, Etherington--I was
afraid you were going down among these confounded bores again to-day."
"_You_ are not to be one of the two, Hal," answered Lord Etherington.
"No?--then I may be a third, I hope, if not second?"
"Neither first, second, nor third, Captain.--The truth is, I want a
tête-à-tête with Mr. Mowbray of St. Ronan's," replied the Earl; "and,
besides, I have to beg the very particular favour of you to go again to
that fellow Martigny. It is time that he should produce his papers, if
he has any--of which, for one, I do not believe a word. He has had ample
time to hear from London; and I think I have delayed long enough in an
important matter upon his bare assertion."
"I cannot blame your impatience," said Jekyl, "and I will go on your
errand instantly. As you waited on my advice, I am bound to find an end
to your suspense.--At the same time, if the man is not possessed of such
papers as he spoke of, I must own he is happy in a command of consummate
assurance, which might set up the whole roll of attorneys."
"You will be soon able to judge of that," said Lord Etherington; "and
now, off with you--Why do you look at me so anxiously?"
"I cannot tell--I have strange forebodings about this tête-à-tête with
Mowbray. You should spare him, Etherington--he is not your match--wants
both judgment and temper."
"Tell him so, Jekyl," answered the Earl, "and his proud Scotch stomach
will be up in an instant, and he will pay you with a shot for your
pains.--Why, he thinks himself cock of the walk, this strutting bantam,
notwithstanding the lesson I gave him before--And what do you think?--He
has the impudence to talk about my attentions to Lady Binks as
inconsistent with the prosecution of my suit to his sister! Yes,
Hal--this awkward Scotch laird, that has scarce tact enough to make love
to a ewe-milker, or, at best, to some daggletailed soubrette, has the
assurance to start himself as my rival!"
"Then, good-night to St. Ronan's!--this will be a fatal dinner to
him.--Etherington, I know by that laugh you are bent on mischief--I have
a great mind to give him a hint."
"I wish you would," answered the Earl; "it would all turn to my
account."
"Do you defy me?--Well, if I meet him, I will put him on his guard."
The friends parted; and it was not long ere Jekyl encountered Mowbray on
one of the public walks.
"You dine with Etherington to-day?" said the Captain--"Forgive me, Mr.
Mowbray, if I say one single word--Beware."
"Of what should I beware, Captain Jekyl," answered Mowbray, "when I dine
with a friend of your own, and a man of honour?"
"Certainly Lord Etherington is both, Mr. Mowbray; but he loves play, and
is too hard for most people."
"I thank you for your hint, Captain Jekyl--I am a raw Scotchman, it is
true; but yet I know a thing or two. Fair play is always presumed
amongst gentlemen; and that taken for granted, I have the vanity to
think I need no one's caution on the subject, not even Captain Jekyl's,
though his experience must needs be so much superior to mine."
"In that case, sir," said Jekyl, bowing coldly, "I have no more to say,
and I hope there is no harm done.--Conceited coxcomb!" he added,
mentally, as they parted, "how truly did Etherington judge of him, and
what an ass was I to intermeddle!--I hope Etherington will strip him of
every feather!"
He pursued his walk in quest of Tyrrel, and Mowbray proceeded to the
apartments of the Earl, in a temper of mind well suited to the purposes
of the latter, who judged of his disposition accurately when he
permitted Jekyl to give his well-meant warning. To be supposed, by a man
of acknowledged fashion, so decidedly inferior to his antagonist--to be
considered as an object of compassion, and made the subject of a
good-boy warning, was gall and bitterness to his proud spirit, which,
the more that he felt a conscious inferiority in the arts which they all
cultivated, struggled the more to preserve the footing of at least
apparent equality.
Since the first memorable party at piquet, Mowbray had never hazarded
his luck with Lord Etherington, except for trifling stakes; but his
conceit led him to suppose that he now fully understood his play, and,
agreeably to the practice of those who have habituated themselves to
gambling, he had every now and then felt a yearning to try for his
revenge. He wished also to be out of Lord Etherington's debt, feeling
galled under a sense of pecuniary obligation, which hindered his
speaking his mind to him fully upon the subject of his flirtation with
Lady Binks, which he justly considered as an insult to his family,
considering the footing on which the Earl seemed desirous to stand with
Clara Mowbray. From these obligations a favourable evening might free
him, and Mowbray was, in fact, indulging in a waking dream to this
purpose, when Jekyl interrupted him. His untimely warning only excited a
spirit of contradiction, and a determination to show the adviser how
little he was qualified to judge of his talents; and in this humour,
his ruin, which was the consequence of that afternoon, was far from
seeming to be the premeditated, or even the voluntary work of the Earl
of Etherington.
On the contrary, the victim himself was the first to propose play--deep
play--double stakes; while Lord Etherington, on the other hand, often
proposed to diminish their game, or to break off entirely; but it was
always with an affectation of superiority which only stimulated Mowbray
to farther and more desperate risks; and, at last, when Mowbray became
his debtor to an overwhelming amount, (his circumstances considered,)
the Earl threw down the cards, and declared he should be too late for
Lady Penelope's tea-party, to which he was positively engaged.
"Will you not give me my revenge?" said Mowbray, taking up the cards,
and shuffling them with fierce anxiety.
"Not now, Mowbray; we have played too long already--you have lost too
much--more than perhaps is convenient for you to pay."
Mowbray gnashed his teeth, in spite of his resolution to maintain an
exterior, at least, of firmness.
"You can take your time, you know," said the Earl; "a note of hand will
suit me as well as the money."
"No, by G--!" answered Mowbray, "I will not be so taken in a second
time--I had better have sold myself to the devil than to your
lordship--I have never been my own man since."
"These are not very kind expressions, Mowbray," said the Earl; "you
_would_ play, and they that will play must expect sometimes to lose"----
"And they who win will expect to be paid," said Mowbray, breaking in. "I
know that as well as you, my lord, and you shall be paid--I will pay
you--I will pay you, by G--! Do you make any doubt that I will pay you,
my lord?"
"You look as if you thought of paying me in sharp coin," said Lord
Etherington; "and I think that would scarce be consistent with the terms
we stand upon towards each other."
"By my soul, my lord," said Mowbray, "I cannot tell what these terms
are; and to be at my wit's end at once, I should be glad to know. You
set out upon paying addresses to my sister, and with your visits and
opportunities at Shaws-Castle, I cannot find the matter makes the least
progress--it keeps moving without advancing, like a child's
rocking-horse. Perhaps you think that you have curbed me up so tightly,
that I dare not stir in the matter; but you will find it
otherwise.--Your lordship may keep a haram if you will, but my sister
shall not enter it."
"You are angry, and therefore you are unjust," said Etherington; "you
know well enough it is your sister's fault that there is any delay. I am
most willing--most desirous--to call her Lady Etherington--nothing but
her unlucky prejudices against me have retarded a union which I have so
many reasons for desiring."
"Well," replied Mowbray, "that shall be my business. I know no reason
she can pretend to decline a marriage so honourable to her house, and
which is approved of by me, that house's head. That matter shall be
arranged in twenty-four hours."
"It will do me the most sensible pleasure," said Lord Etherington; "you
shall soon see how sincerely I desire your alliance; and as for the
trifle you have lost"----
"It is no trifle to me, my lord--it is my ruin--but it shall be
paid--and let me tell your lordship, you may thank your good luck for it
more than your good play."
"We will say no more of it at present, if you please," said Lord
Etherington, "to-morrow is a new day; and if you will take my advice,
you will not be too harsh with your sister. A little firmness is seldom
amiss with young women, but severity"----
"I will pray your lordship to spare me your advice on this subject.
However valuable it may be in other respects, I can, I take it, speak to
my own sister in my own way."
"Since you are so caustically-disposed, Mowbray," answered the Earl, "I
presume you will not honour her ladyship's tea-table to-night, though I
believe it will be the last of the season?"
"And why should you think so, my lord?" answered Mowbray, whose losses
had rendered him testy and contradictory upon every subject that was
started. "Why should not I pay my respects to Lady Penelope, or any
other tabby of quality? I have no title, indeed; but I suppose that my
family"----
"Entitles you to become a canon of Strasburgh[II-D] doubtless--But you do
not seem in a very Christian mood for taking orders. All I meant to say
was, that you and Lady Pen were not used to be on such a good footing."
"Well, she sent me a card for her blow-out," said Mowbray; "and so I am
resolved to go. When I have been there half an hour, I will ride up to
Shaws-Castle, and you shall hear of my speed in wooing for you to-morrow
morning."