THE MARQUIS GOES INTO BROTHERTON.
The poor dear old Marchioness must have had some feeling that she was
regarded as a spy. She had promised to tell everything to her eldest
son, and though she had really nothing to tell, though the Marquis did
in truth know all that there was as yet to know, still there grew up at
Cross Hall a sort of severance between the unhappy old lady and her
children. This showed itself in no diminution of affectionate
attention; in no intentional change of manner; but there was a
reticence about the Marquis and Popenjoy which even she perceived, and
there crept into her mind a feeling that Mrs. Toff was on her guard
against her,--so that on two occasions she almost snubbed Mrs. Toff. "I
never see'd him, my Lady; what more can I say?" said Mrs. Toff. "Toff,
I don't believe you wanted to see your master's son and heir!" said the
Marchioness. Then Mrs. Toff pursed up her lips, and compressed her
nose, and half-closed her eyes, and the Marchioness was sure that Mrs.
Toff did not believe in Popenjoy.
No one but Lord George had seen Popenjoy. To no eyes but his had the
august baby been displayed. Of course many questions had been asked,
especially by the old lady, but the answers to them had not been
satisfactory. "Dark, is he?" asked the Marchioness. Lord George replied
that the child was very swarthy. "Dear me! That isn't like the
Germains. The Germains were never light, but they're not swarthy. Did
he talk at all?" "Not a word." "Did he play about?" "Never was out of
the nurse's arms." "Dear me! Was he like Brotherton?" "I don't think I
am a judge of likenesses." "He's a healthy child?" "I can't say. He
seemed to be a good deal done up with finery." Then the Marchioness
declared that her younger son showed an unnatural indifference to the
heir of the family. It was manifest that she intended to accept the new
Popenjoy, and to ally herself with no party base enough to entertain
any suspicion.
These examinations respecting the baby went on for the three first days
of the week. It was Lord George's intention to return to town on the
Saturday, and it seemed to them all to be necessary that something
should be arranged before that. Lady Sarah thought that direct
application should be made to her brother for proof of his marriage and
for a copy of the register of the birth of his child. She quite
admitted that he would resent such application with the bitterest
enmity. But that she thought must be endured. She argued that nothing
could be done more friendly to the child than this. If all was right
the enquiry which circumstances certainly demanded would be made while
he could not feel it. If no such proof were adduced now there would
certainly be trouble, misery, and perhaps ruin in coming years. If the
necessary evidence were forthcoming, then no one would wish to
interfere further. There might be ill blood on their brother's part,
but there would be none on theirs. Neither Lord George nor their
younger sister gainsayed this altogether. Neither of them denied the
necessity of enquiry. But they desired to temporise;--and then how was
the enquiry to be made? Who was to bell the cat? And how should they go
on when the Marquis refused to take any heed of them,--as, of course,
he would do? Lady Sarah saw at once that they must employ a
lawyer;--but what lawyer? Old Mr. Stokes, the family attorney, was the
only lawyer they knew. But Mr. Stokes was Lord Brotherton's lawyer, and
would hardly consent to be employed against his own client. Lady Sarah
suggested that Mr. Stokes might be induced to explain to the Marquis
that these enquiries should be made for his, the Marquis's, own
benefit. But Lord George felt that this was impossible. It was evident
that Lord George would be afraid to ask Mr. Stokes to undertake the
work.
At last it came to be understood among them that they must have some
friend to act with them. There could be no doubt who that friend should
be. "As to interfering," said Lady Sarah, speaking of the Dean, "he
will interfere, whether we ask him to or not. His daughter is as much
affected as anybody, and if I understand him he is not the man to see
any interest of his own injured by want of care." Lord George shook his
head but yielded. He greatly disliked the idea of putting himself into
the Dean's hands; of becoming a creature of the Dean's. He felt the
Dean to be stronger than himself, endowed with higher spirit and more
confident hopes. But he also felt that the Dean was--the son of a
stable-keeper. Though he had professed to his brother that he could own
the fact without shame, still he was ashamed. It was not the Dean's
parentage that troubled him so much as a consciousness of some defect,
perhaps only of the absence of some quality, which had been caused by
that parentage. The man looked like a gentleman, but still there was a
smell of the stable. Feeling this rather than knowing it Lord George
resisted for awhile the idea of joining forces with the Dean; but when
it was suggested to him as an alternative that he himself must go to
Mr. Stokes and explain his suspicions in the lawyer's room, then he
agreed that, as a first step, he would consult the Dean. The Dean, no
doubt, would have his own lawyer, who would not care a fig for the
Marquis.
It was thought by them at Cross Hall that the Dean would come over to
them, knowing that his son-in-law was in the country; but the Dean did
not come, probably waiting for the same compliment from Lord George. On
the Friday Lord George rode into Brotherton early, and was at the
Deanery by eleven o'clock. "I thought I should see you," said the Dean,
in his pleasantest manner. "Of course, I heard from Mary that you were
down here. Well;--what do you think of it all?"
"It is not pleasant."
"If you mean your brother, I am bound to say, that he is very
unpleasant. Of course you have seen him?"
"Yes; I have seen him."
"And her ladyship?"
"No. He said that as I do not speak Italian it would be no good."
"And he seemed to think," said the Dean, "that as I do speak Italian it
would be dangerous. Nobody has seen her then?"
"Nobody."
"That promises well! And the little lord?"
"He was brought down to me."
"That was gracious! Well; what of him. Did he look like a Popenjoy?"
"He is a nasty little black thing."
"I shouldn't wonder."
"And looks----. Well, I don't want to abuse the poor child, and God
knows, if he is what he pretends to be, I would do anything to serve
him."
"That's just it, George," said the Dean, very seriously,--seriously,
and with his kindest manner, being quite disposed to make himself
agreeable to Lord George, if Lord George would be agreeable to him.
"That's just it. If we were certified as to that, what would we not do
for the child in spite of the father's brutality? There is no
dishonesty on our side, George. You know of me, and I know of you,
that if every tittle of the evidence of that child's birth were in the
keeping of either of us, so that it could be destroyed on the moment,
it should be made as public as the winds of heaven to-morrow, so that
it was true evidence. If he be what he pretends to be, who would
interfere with him? But if he be not?"
"Any suspicion of that kind is unworthy of us;--except on very strong
ground."
"True. But if there be very strong ground, it is equally true that such
suspicion is our duty. Look at the case. When was it that he told you
that he was going to be married? About six months since, as far as my
memory goes."
"He said, 'I am to be married.'"
"That is speaking in the future tense; and now he claims to have been
married two or three years ago. Has he ever attempted to explain this?"
"He has not said a word about it. He is quite unwilling to talk about
himself."
"I dare say. But a man in such circumstances must be made to talk about
himself. You and I are so placed that if we did not make him talk about
himself, we ought to be made to make him do so. He may be deceitful if
he pleases. He may tell you and me fibs without end. And he may give us
much trouble by doing so. Such trouble is the evil consequence of
having liars in the world." Lord George winced at the rough word as
applied by inference to his own brother. "But liars themselves are
always troubled by their own lies. If he chooses to tell you that on a
certain day he is about to be married, and afterwards springs a
two-year old child upon you as legitimate, you are bound to think that
there is some deceit. You cannot keep yourself from knowing that there
is falsehood; and if falsehood, then probably fraud. Is it likely that
a man with such privileges, and such property insured to a legitimate
son, would allow the birth of such a child to be slurred over without
due notice of it? You say that suspicion on our part without strong
ground would be unworthy of us. I agree with you. But I ask you whether
the grounds are not so strong as to force us to suspect. Come," he
continued, as Lord George did not answer at once; "let us be open to
each other, knowing as each does that the other means to do what is
right. Do not you suspect?"
"I do," said Lord George.
"And so do I. And I mean to learn the truth."
"But how?"
"That is for us to consider; but of one thing I am quite sure. I am
quite certain that we must not allow ourselves to be afraid of your
brother. To speak the truth, as it must be spoken, he is a bully,
George."
"I would rather you would not abuse him, sir."
"Speak ill of him I must. His character is bad, and I have to speak of
it. He is a bully. He set himself to work to put me down when I did
myself the honour to call on him, because he felt that my connexion
with you would probably make me an enemy to him. I intend that he shall
know that he cannot put me down. He is undoubtedly Lord Brotherton. He
is the owner of a wide property. He has many privileges and much power,
with which I cannot interfere. But there is a limit to them. If he have
a legitimate son, those privileges will be that son's property, but he
has to show to the world that that son is legitimate. When a man
marries before all the world, in his own house, and a child is born to
him as I may say openly, the proofs are there of themselves. No
bringing up of evidence is necessary. The thing is simple, and there is
no suspicion and no enquiry. But he has done the reverse of this, and
now flatters himself that he can cow those who are concerned by a
domineering manner. He must be made to feel that this will not
prevail."
"Sarah thinks that he should be invited to produce the necessary
certificates." Lord George, when he dropped his sister's title in
speaking of her to the Dean, must have determined that very familiar
intercourse with the Dean was a necessity.
"Lady Sarah is always right. That should be the first step. But will
you invite him to do so? How shall the matter be broken to him?"
"She thinks a lawyer should do it."
"It must be done either by you or by a lawyer." Lord George looked very
blank. "Of course, if the matter were left in my hands;--if I had to do
it,--I should not do it personally. The question is, whether you might
not in the first instance write to him?"
"He would not notice it."
"Very likely not. Then we must employ a lawyer."
The matter was altogether so distasteful to Lord George, that more than
once during the interview he almost made up his mind that he would
withdraw altogether from the work, and at any rate appear to take it
for granted that the child was a real heir, an undoubted Popenjoy. But
then, as often, the Dean showed him that he could not so withdraw
himself. "You will be driven," said the Dean, "to express your belief,
whatever it may be; and if you think that there has been foul play, you
cannot deny that you think so." It was at last decided that Lord George
should write a letter to his brother, giving all the grounds, not of
his own suspicion, but which the world at large would have for
suspecting; and earnestly imploring that proper evidence as to his
brother's marriage and as to the child's birth, might be produced.
Then, if this letter should not be attended to, a lawyer should be
employed. The Dean named his own lawyer, Mr. Battle, of Lincoln's Inn
Fields. Lord George having once yielded, found it convenient to yield
throughout. Towards the end of the interview the Dean suggested that he
would "throw a few words together," or, in other language, write the
letter which his son-in-law would have to sign. This suggestion was
also accepted by Lord George.
The two men were together for a couple of hours, and then, after lunch,
went out together into the town. Each felt that he was now more closely
bound to the other than ever. The Dean was thoroughly pleased that it
should be so. He intended his son-in-law to be the Marquis, and being
sanguine as well as pugnacious looked forward to seeing that time
himself. Such a man as the Marquis would probably die early, whereas he
himself was full of health. There was nothing he would not do to make
Lord George's life pleasant, if only Lord George would be pleasant to
him, and submissive. But Lord George himself was laden with many
regrets. He had formed a conspiracy against the head of his own family,
and his brother conspirator was the son of a stable-keeper. It might be
also that he was conspiring against his own legitimate nephew; and if
so, the conspiracy would of course fail, and he would be stigmatised
for ever among the Germains as the most sordid and vile of the name.
The Dean's house was in the Close, joined on to the Cathedral, a
covered stone pathway running between the two. The nearest way from the
Deanery to the High Street was through the Cathedral, the transept of
which could be entered by crossing the passage. The Dean and his
son-in-law on this occasion went through the building to the west
entrance, and there stood for a few minutes in the street while the
Dean spoke to men who were engaged on certain repairs of the fabric. In
doing this they all went out into the middle of the wide street in
order that they might look up at the work which was being done. While
they were there, suddenly an open carriage, with a postilion, came upon
them unawares, and they had to retreat out of the way. As they did so
they perceived that Lord Brotherton was in the carriage, enveloped in
furs, and that a lady, more closely enveloped even than himself, was by
his side. It was evident to them that he had recognised them. Indeed he
had been in the act of raising his hand to greet his brother when he
saw the Dean. They both bowed to him, while the Dean, who had the
readier mind, raised his hat to the lady. But the Marquis steadily
ignored them. "That's your sister-in-law," said the Dean.
"Perhaps so."
"There is no other lady here with whom he could be driving. I am pretty
sure that it is the first time that either of them have been in
Brotherton."
"I wonder whether he saw us."
"Of course he saw us. He cut me from fixed purpose, and you because I
was with you. I shall not disturb him by any further recognition." Then
they went on about their business, and in the afternoon, when the Dean
had thrown his few words together, Lord George rode back to Cross Hall.
"Let the letter be sent at once,--but date it from London." These were
the last words the Dean said to him.
It was the Marquis and his wife. All Brotherton heard the news. She had
absolutely called at a certain shop and the Marquis had condescended to
be her interpreter. All Brotherton was now sure that there was a new
Marchioness, a fact as to which a great part of Brotherton had hitherto
entertained doubts. And it seemed that this act of condescension in
stopping at a Brotherton shop was so much appreciated that all the
former faults of the Marquis were to be condoned on that account. If
only Popenjoy could be taken to a Brotherton pastrycook, and be got to
eat a Brotherton bun, the Marquis would become the most popular man in
the neighbourhood, and the undoubted progenitor of a long line of
Marquises to come. A little kindness after continued cruelty will
always win a dog's heart;--some say, also a woman's. It certainly
seemed to be the way to win Brotherton.