THE MARQUIS MIGRATES TO LONDON.
Soon after Mr. Stokes' visit there was a great disturbance at Manor
Cross, whether caused or not by that event no one was able to say. The
Marquis and all the family were about to proceed to London. The news
first reached Cross Hall through Mrs. Toff, who still kept up friendly
relations with a portion of the English establishment at the great
house. There probably was no idea of maintaining a secret on the
subject. The Marquis and his wife, with Lord Popenjoy and the servants,
could not have had themselves carried up to town without the knowledge
of all Brotherton, nor was there any adequate reason for supposing that
secrecy was desired. Nevertheless Mrs. Toff made a great deal of the
matter, and the ladies at Cross Hall were not without a certain
perturbed interest as though in a mystery. It was first told to Lady
Sarah, for Mrs. Toff was quite aware of the position of things, and
knew that the old Marchioness herself was not to be regarded as being
on their side. "Yes, my Lady, it's quite true," said Mrs. Toff. "The
horses is ordered for next Friday." This was said on the previous
Saturday, so that considerable time was allowed for the elucidation of
the mystery. "And the things is already being packed, and her
Ladyship,--that is, if she is her Ladyship,--is taking every dress and
every rag as she brought with her."
"Where are they going to, Toff?--Not to the Square?" Now the Marquis of
Brotherton had an old family house in Cavendish Square, which, however,
had been shut up for the last ten or fifteen years, but was still known
as the family house by all the adherents of the family.
"No, my Lady. I did hear from one of the servants that they are going
to Scumberg's Hotel, in Albemarle Street."
Then Lady Sarah told the news to her mother. The poor old lady felt
that she was ill-used. She had been at any rate true to her eldest son,
had always taken his part during his absence by scolding her daughters
whenever an allusion was made to the family at Manor Cross, and had
almost worshipped him when he would come to her on Sunday. And now he
was going off to London without saying a word to her of the journey. "I
don't believe that Toff knows anything about it," she said. "Toff is a
nasty, meddling creature, and I wish she had not come here at all." The
management of the Marchioness under these circumstances was very
difficult, but Lady Sarah was a woman who allowed no difficulty to
crush her. She did not expect the world to be very easy. She went on
with her constant needle, trying to comfort her mother as she worked.
At this time the Marchioness had almost brought herself to quarrel with
her younger son, and would say very hard things about him and about the
Dean. She had more than once said that Mary was a "nasty sly thing,"
and had expressed herself as greatly aggrieved by that marriage. All
this came of course from the Marquis, and was known by her daughters to
come from the Marquis; and yet the Marchioness had never as yet been
allowed to see either her daughter-in-law or Popenjoy.
On the following day her son came to her when the three sisters were at
church in the afternoon. On these occasions he would stay for a quarter
of an hour, and would occupy the greater part of the time in abusing
the Dean and Lord George. But on this day she could not refrain from
asking him a question. "Are you going up to London, Brotherton?"
"What makes you ask?"
"Because they tell me so. Sarah says that the servants are talking
about it."
"I wish Sarah had something to do better than listening to the
servants?"
"But you are going?"
"If you want to know, I believe we shall go up to town for a few days.
Popenjoy ought to see a dentist, and I want to do a few things. Why the
deuce shouldn't I go up to London as well as any one else?"
"Of course, if you wish it."
"To tell you the truth, I don't much wish anything, except to get out
of this cursed country again."
"Don't say that, Brotherton. You are an Englishman."
"I am ashamed to say I am. I wish with all my heart that I had been
born a Chinese or a Red Indian." This he said, not in furtherance of
any peculiar cosmopolitan proclivities, but because the saying of it
would vex his mother. "What am I to think of the country, when the
moment I get here I am hounded by all my own family because I choose to
live after my own fashion and not after theirs?"
"I haven't hounded you."
"No. You might possibly get more by being on good terms with me than
bad. And so might they if they knew it. I'll be even with Master George
before I've done with him; and I'll be even with that parson, too, who
still smells of the stables. I'll lead him a dance that will about ruin
him. And as for his daughter----"
"It wasn't I got up the marriage, Brotherton."
"I don't care who got it up. But I can have enquiries made as well as
another person. I am not very fond of spies; but if other people use
spies, so can I too. That young woman is no better than she ought to
be. The Dean, I daresay, knows it; but he shall know that I know it.
And Master George shall know what I think about it. As there is to be
war, he shall know what it is to have war. She has got a lover of her
own already, and everybody who knows them is talking about it."
"Oh, Brotherton!"
"And she is going in for women's rights! George has made a nice thing
of it for himself. He has to live on the Dean's money, so that he
doesn't dare to call his soul his own. And yet he's fool enough to send
a lawyer to me to tell me that my wife is a ----, and my son a ----!"
He made use of very plain language, so that the poor old woman was
horrified and aghast and dumbfounded. And as he spoke the words there
was a rage in his eyes worse than anything she had seen before. He was
standing with his back to the fire, which was burning though the
weather was warm, and the tails of his coat were hanging over his arms
as he kept his hands in his pockets. He was generally quiescent in his
moods, and apt to express his anger in sarcasm rather than in outspoken
language; but now he was so much moved that he was unable not to give
vent to his feelings. As the Marchioness looked at him, shaking with
fear, there came into her distracted mind some vague idea of Cain and
Abel, though had she collected her thoughts she would have been far
from telling herself that her eldest son was Cain. "He thinks,"
continued the Marquis, "that because I have lived abroad I shan't mind
that sort of thing. I wonder how he'll feel when I tell him the truth
about his wife. I mean to do it;--and what the Dean will think when I
use a little plain language about his daughter. I mean to do that too.
I shan't mince matters. I suppose you have heard of Captain De Baron,
mother?"
Now the Marchioness unfortunately had heard of Captain De Baron. Lady
Susanna had brought the tidings down to Cross Hall. Had Lady Susanna
really believed that her sister-in-law was wickedly entertaining a
lover, there would have been some reticence in her mode of alluding to
so dreadful a subject. The secret would have been confided to Lady
Sarah in awful conclave, and some solemn warning would have been
conveyed to Lord George, with a prayer that he would lose no time in
withdrawing the unfortunate young woman from evil influences. But Lady
Susanna had entertained no such fear. Mary was young, and foolish, and
fond of pleasure. Hard as was this woman in her manner, and
disagreeable as she made herself, yet she could, after a fashion,
sympathise with the young wife. She had spoken of Captain De Baron with
disapprobation certainly, but had not spoken of him as a fatal danger.
And she had spoken also of the Baroness Banmann and Mary's folly in
going to the Institute. The old Marchioness had heard of these things,
and now, when she heard further of them from her son, she almost
believed all that he told her. "Don't be hard upon poor George," she
said.
"I give as I get, mother. I'm not one of those who return good for
evil. Had he left me alone, I should have left him alone. As it is, I
rather think I shall be hard upon poor George. Do you suppose that all
Brotherton hasn't heard already what they are doing;--that there is a
man or a woman in the county who doesn't know that my own brother is
questioning the legitimacy of my own son? And then you ask me not to be
hard."
"It isn't my doing, Brotherton."
"But those three girls have their hand in it. That's what they call
charity! That's what they go to church for!"
All this made the poor old Marchioness very ill. Before her son left
her she was almost prostrate; and yet, to the end, he did not spare
her. But as he left he said one word which apparently was intended to
comfort her. "Perhaps Popenjoy had better be brought here for you to
see before he is taken up to town." There had been a promise made
before that the child should be brought to the hall to bless his
grandmother. On this occasion she had been too much horrified and
overcome by what had been said to urge her request; but when the
proposition was renewed by him of course she assented.
Popenjoy's visit to Cross Hall was arranged with a good deal of state,
and was made on the following Tuesday. On the Monday there came a
message to say that the child should be brought up at twelve on the
following day. The Marquis was not coming himself, and the child would
of course be inspected by all the ladies. At noon they were assembled
in the drawing-room; but they were kept there waiting for half an hour,
during which the Marchioness repeatedly expressed her conviction that
now, at the last moment, she was to be robbed of the one great desire
of her heart. "He won't let him come because he's so angry with
George," she said, sobbing.
"He wouldn't have sent a message yesterday, mother," said Lady Amelia,
"if he hadn't meant to send him."
"You are all so very unkind to him," ejaculated the Marchioness.
But at half-past twelve the cortege appeared. The child was brought up
in a perambulator which had at first been pushed by the under-nurse, an
Italian, and accompanied by the upper-nurse, who was of course an
Italian also. With them had been sent one of the Englishmen to show the
way. Perhaps the two women had been somewhat ill-treated, as no true
idea of the distance had been conveyed to them; and though they had now
been some weeks at Manor Cross, they had never been half so far from
the house. Of course the labour of the perambulator had soon fallen to
the man; but the two nurses, who had been forced to walk a mile, had
thought that they would never come to the end of their journey. When
they did arrive they were full of plaints, which, however, no one could
understand. But Popenjoy was at last brought into the hall.
"My darling," said the Marchioness, putting out both her arms. But
Popenjoy, though a darling, screamed frightfully beneath his heap of
clothes.
"You had better let him come into the room, mamma," said Lady Susanna.
Then the nurse carried him in, and one or two of his outer garments
were taken from him.
"Dear me, how black he is!" said Lady Susanna.
The Marchioness turned upon her daughter in great anger. "The Germains
were always dark," she said. "You're dark yourself,--quite as black as
he is. My darling!"
She made another attempt to take the boy; but the nurse with voluble
eloquence explained something which of course none of them understood.
The purport of her speech was an assurance that "Tavo," as she most
unceremoniously called the child whom no Germain thought of naming
otherwise than as Popenjoy, never would go to any "foreigner." The
nurse therefore held him up to be looked at for two minutes while he
still screamed, and then put him back into his covering raiments. "He
is very black," said Lady Sarah severely.
"So are some people's hearts," said the Marchioness with a vigour for
which her daughters had hardly given her credit. This, however, was
borne without a murmur by the three sisters.
On the Friday the whole family, including all the Italian servants,
migrated to London, and it certainly was the case that the lady took
with her all her clothes and everything that she had brought with her.
Toff had been quite right, there. And when it came to be known by the
younger ladies at Cross Hall that Toff had been right, they argued from
the fact that their brother had concealed something of the truth when
saying that he intended to go up to London only for a few days. There
had been three separate carriages, and Toff was almost sure that the
Italian lady had carried off more than she had brought with her, so
exuberant had been the luggage. It was not long before Toff effected an
entrance into the house, and brought away a report that very many
things were missing. "The two little gilt cream-jugs is gone," she said
to Lady Sarah, "and the minitshur with the pearl settings out of the
yellow drawing-room!" Lady Sarah explained that as these things were
the property of her brother, he or his wife might of course take them
away if so pleased. "She's got 'em unbeknownst to my Lord, my Lady,"
said Toff, shaking her head. "I could only just scurry through with
half an eye; but when I comes to look there will be more, I warrant
you, my Lady."
The Marquis had expressed so much vehement dislike of everything about
his English home, and it had become so generally understood that his
Italian wife hated the place, that everybody agreed that they would not
come back. Why should they? What did they get by living there? The lady
had not been outside the house a dozen times, and only twice beyond the
park gate. The Marquis took no share in any county or any country
pursuit. He went to no man's house and received no visitors. He would
not see the tenants when they came to him, and had not even returned a
visit except Mr. De Baron's. Why had he come there at all? That was the
question which all the Brothershire people asked of each other, and
which no one could answer. Mr. Price suggested that it was just
devilry,--to make everybody unhappy. Mrs. Toff thought that it was the
woman's doing,--because she wanted to steal silver mugs, miniatures,
and such like treasures. Mr. Waddy, the vicar of the parish, said that
it was "a trial," having probably some idea in his own mind that the
Marquis had been sent home by Providence as a sort of precious blister
which would purify all concerned in him by counter irritation. The old
Marchioness still conceived that it had been brought about that a
grandmother might take delight in the presence of her grandchild. Dr.
Pountner said that it was impudence. But the Dean was of opinion that
it had been deliberately planned with the view of passing off a
supposititious child upon the property and title. The Dean, however,
kept his opinion very much to himself.
Of course tidings of the migration were sent to Munster Court. Lady
Sarah wrote to her brother, and the Dean wrote to his daughter. "What
shall you do, George? Shall you go and see him?"
"I don't know what I shall do?"
"Ought I to go?"
"Certainly not. You could only call on her, and she has not even seen
my mother and sisters. When I was there he would not introduce me to
her, though he sent for the child. I suppose I had better go. I do not
want to quarrel with him if I can help it."
"You have offered to do everything together with him, if only he would
let you."
"I must say that your father has driven me on in a manner which
Brotherton would be sure to resent."
"Papa has done everything from a sense of duty, George."
"Perhaps so. I don't know how that is. It is very hard sometimes to
divide a sense of duty from one's own interest. But it has made me very
miserable,--very wretched, indeed."
"Oh George; is it my fault?"
"No; not your fault. If there is one thing worse to me than another, it
is the feeling of being divided from my own family. Brotherton has
behaved badly to me."
"Very badly."
"And yet I would give anything to be on good terms with him. I think I
shall go and call. He is at an hotel in Albemarle Street. I have done
nothing to deserve ill of him, if he knew all."
It should, of course, be understood that Lord George did not at all
know the state of his brother's mind towards him, except as it had been
exhibited at that one interview which had taken place between them at
Manor Cross. He was aware that in every conversation which he had had
with the lawyers,--both with Mr. Battle and Mr. Stokes,--he had
invariably expressed himself as desirous of establishing the legitimacy
of the boy's birth. If Mr. Stokes had repeated to his brother what he
had said, and had done him the justice of explaining that in all that
he did he was simply desirous of performing his duty to the family,
surely his brother would not be angry with him! At any rate it would
not suit him to be afraid of his brother, and he went to the hotel.
After being kept waiting in the hall for about ten minutes, the Italian
courier came down to him. The Marquis at the present moment was not
dressed, and Lord George did not like being kept waiting. Would Lord
George call at three o'clock on the following day. Lord George said
that he would, and was again at Scumberg's Hotel at three o'clock on
the next afternoon.