THE LAST OF THE BARONESS.
At this time Dr. Olivia Q. Fleabody had become quite an institution in
London. She had obtained full though by no means undisputed possession
of the great hall in the Marylebone Road, and was undoubtedly for the
moment the Queen of the Disabilities. She lectured twice a week to
crowded benches. A seat on the platform on these occasions was
considered by all high-minded women to be an honour, and the body of
the building was always filled by strongly-visaged spinsters and
mutinous wives, who twice a week were worked up by Dr. Fleabody to a
full belief that a glorious era was at hand in which woman would be
chosen by constituencies, would wag their heads in courts of law, would
buy and sell in Capel Court, and have balances at their banker's. It
was certainly the case that Dr. Fleabody had made proselytes by the
hundred, and disturbed the happiness of many fathers of families.
It may easily be conceived that all this was gall and wormwood to the
Baroness Banmann. The Baroness, on her arrival in London, had
anticipated the success which this low-bred American female had
achieved. It was not simply the honour of the thing,--which was very
great and would have been very dear to the Baroness,--but the American
Doctor was making a rapid fortune out of the proceeds of the hall. She
had on one occasion threatened to strike lecturing unless she were
allowed a certain very large percentage on the sum taken at the doors,
and the stewards and directors of the Institute had found themselves
compelled to give way to her demands. She had consequently lodged
herself magnificently at the Langham Hotel, had set up her brougham, in
which she always had herself driven to the Institute, and was asked out
to dinner three or four times a week; whereas the Baroness was in a
very poor condition. She had indeed succeeded in getting herself
invited to Mr. De Baron's house, and from time to time raised a little
money from those who were unfortunate enough to come in her way. But
she was sensible of her own degradation, and at the same time quite
assured that as a preacher on women's rights at large she could teach
lessons infinitely superior to anything that had come from that
impudent but imbecile American.
She had undoubtedly received overtures from the directors of the
Institute of whom poor Aunt Ju had for the moment been the spokeswoman,
and in these overtures it had been intimated to her that the directors
would be happy to remunerate her for her trouble should the money
collected at the hall enable them to do so. The Baroness believed that
enormous sums had been received, and was loud in assuring all her
friends that this popularity had in the first place been produced by
her own exertions. At any rate, she was resolved to seek redress at
law, and at last had been advised to proceed conjointly against Aunt
Ju, Lady Selina Protest, and the bald-headed old gentleman. The
business had now been brought into proper form, and the trial was to
take place in March.
All this was the cause of much trouble to poor Mary, and of very great
vexation to Lord George. When the feud was first becoming furious, an
enormous advertisement was issued by Dr. Fleabody's friends, in which
her cause was advocated and her claims recapitulated. And to this was
appended a list of the nobility, gentry, and people of England who
supported the Disabilities generally and her cause in particular. Among
these names, which were very numerous, appeared that of Lady George
Germain. This might probably have escaped both her notice and her
husband's, had not the paper been sent to her, with usual friendly
zeal, by old Lady Brabazon. "Oh George," she said, "look here. What
right have they to say so? I never patronised anything. I went there
once when I came to London first, because Miss Mildmay asked me."
"You should not have gone," said he.
"We have had all that before, and you need not scold me again. There
couldn't be any great harm in going to hear a lecture." This occurred
just previous to her going down to Manor Cross,--that journey which was
to be made for so important an object.
Then Lord George did--just what he ought not to have done. He wrote an
angry letter to Miss Fleabody, as he called her, complaining bitterly
of the insertion of his wife's name. Dr. Fleabody was quite clever
enough to make fresh capital out of this. She withdrew the name,
explaining that she had been ordered to do so by the lady's husband,
and implying that thereby additional evidence was supplied that the
Disabilities of Women were absolutely crushing to the sex in England.
Mary, when she saw this,--and the paper did not reach her till she was
at Manor Cross,--was violent in her anxiety to write herself, in her
own name, and disclaim all disabilities; but her husband by this time
had been advised to have nothing further to do with Dr. Fleabody, and
Mary was forced to keep her indignation to herself.
But worse than this followed the annoyance of the advertisement. A man
came all the way down from London for the purpose of serving Lady
George with a subpoena to give evidence at the trial on the part of the
Baroness. Lord George was up in London at the time, never having
entered the house at Manor Cross, or even the park, since his visit to
Italy. The consternation of the ladies may be imagined. Poor Mary was
certainly not in a condition to go into a court of law, and would be
less so on the day fixed for the trial. And yet this awful document
seemed to her and to her sisters-in-law to be so imperative as to admit
of no escape. It was in vain that Lady Sarah, with considerable
circumlocution, endeavoured to explain to the messenger the true state
of the case. The man could simply say that he was only a messenger, and
had now done his work. Looked at in any light, the thing was very
terrible. Lord George might probably even yet be able to run away with
her to some obscure corner of the continent in which messengers from
the Queen's judges would not be able to find her; and she might perhaps
bear the journey without injury. But then what would become of a
baby--perhaps of a Popenjoy--so born? There were many who still thought
that the Marquis would go before the baby came; and, in that case, the
baby would at once be a Popenjoy. What a condition was this for a
Marchioness to be in at the moment of the birth of her eldest child!
"But I don't know anything about the nasty women!" said Mary, through
her tears.
"It is such a pity that you should ever have gone," said Lady Susanna,
shaking her head.
"It wasn't wicked to go," said Mary, "and I won't be scolded about it
any more. You went to a lecture yourself when you were in town, and
they might just as well have sent for you."
Lady Sarah promised her that she should not be scolded, and was very
keen in thinking what steps had better be taken. Mary wished to run off
to the deanery at once, but was told that she had better not do so till
an answer had come to the letter which was of course written by that
day's post to Lord George. There were still ten days to the trial, and
twenty days, by computation, to the great event. There were, of course,
various letters written to Lord George. Lady Sarah wrote very sensibly,
suggesting that he should go to Mr. Stokes, the family lawyer. Lady
Susanna was full of the original sin of that unfortunate visit to the
Disabilities. She was, however, of opinion that if Mary was concealed
in a certain room at Manor Cross, which might she thought be
sufficiently warmed and ventilated for health, the judges of the
Queen's Bench would never be able to find her. The baby in that case
would have been born at Manor Cross, and posterity would know nothing
about the room. Mary's letter was almost hysterically miserable. She
knew nothing about the horrid people. What did they want her to say?
All she had done was to go to a lecture, and to give the wicked woman a
guinea. Wouldn't George come and take her away. She wouldn't care where
she went. Nothing on earth should make her go up and stand before the
judges. It was, she said, very cruel, and she did hope that George
would come to her at once. If he didn't come she thought that she would
die.
Nothing, of course, was said to the Marchioness, but it was found
impossible to keep the matter from Mrs. Toff. Mrs. Toff was of opinion
that the bit of paper should be burned, and that no further notice
should be taken of the matter at all. "If they don't go they has to pay
L10," said Mrs. Toff with great authority,--Mrs. Toff remembering that
a brother of hers, who had "forgotten himself in liquor" at the
Brotherton assizes, had been fined L10 for not answering to his name as
a juryman. "And then they don't really have to pay it," said Mrs. Toff,
who remembered also that the good-natured judge had not at last exacted
the penalty. But Lady Sarah could not look at the matter in that light.
She was sure that if a witness were really wanted, that witness could
not escape by paying a fine.
The next morning there came a heartrending letter from Aunt Ju. She was
very sorry that Lady George should have been so troubled;--but then let
them think of her trouble, of her misery! She was quite sure that it
would kill her,--and it would certainly ruin her. That odious Baroness
had summoned everybody that had ever befriended her. Captain De Baron
had been summoned, and the Marquis, and Mrs. Montacute Jones. And the
whole expense, according to Aunt Ju, would fall upon her; for it seemed
to be the opinion of the lawyers that she had hired the Baroness. Then
she said some very severe things against the Disabilities generally.
There was that woman Fleabody making a fortune in their hall, and would
take none of this expense upon herself. She thought that such things
should be left to men, who after all were not so mean as women;--so, at
least, said Aunt Ju.
And then there was new cause for wonderment. Lord Brotherton had been
summoned, and would Lord Brotherton come? They all believed that he was
dying, and, if so, surely he could not be made to come. "But is it not
horrible," said Lady Susanna, "that people of rank should be made
subject to such an annoyance! If anybody can summon anybody, nobody can
ever be sure of herself!"
On the next morning Lord George himself came down to Brotherton, and
Mary with a carriage full of precautions, was sent into the deanery to
meet him. The Marchioness discovered that the journey was to be made,
and was full of misgivings and full of enquiries. In her present
condition, the mother expectant ought not to be allowed to make any
journey at all. The Marchioness remembered how Sir Henry had told her,
before Popenjoy was born, that all carriage exercise was bad. And why
should she go to the deanery? Who could say whether the Dean would let
her come away again? What a feather it would be in the Dean's cap if
the next Popenjoy were born at the deanery. It was explained to her
that in no other way could she see her husband. Then the poor old woman
was once more loud in denouncing the misconduct of her youngest son to
the head of the family.
Mary made the journey in perfect safety, and then was able to tell her
father the whole story. "I never heard of anything so absurd in my
life," said the Dean.
"I suppose I must go, papa?"
"Not a yard."
"But won't they come and fetch me?"
"Fetch you? No."
"Does it mean nothing."
"Very little. They won't attempt to examine half the people they have
summoned. That Baroness probably thinks that she will get money out of
you. If the worst comes to the worst, you must send a medical
certificate."
"Will that do?"
"Of course it will. When George is here we will get Dr. Loftly, and he
will make it straight for us. You need not trouble yourself about it at
all. Those women at Manor Cross are old enough to have known better."
Lord George came and was very angry. He quite agreed as to Dr. Loftly,
who was sent for, and who did give a certificate,--and who took upon
himself to assure Lady George that all the judges in the land could not
enforce her attendance as long as she had that certificate in her
hands. But Lord George was vexed beyond measure that his wife's name
should have been called in question, and could not refrain himself from
a cross word or two. "It was so imprudent your going to such a place!"
"Oh George, are we to have that all again?"
"Why shouldn't she have gone?" asked the Dean.
"Are you in favour of rights of women?"
"Not particularly;--though if there be any rights which they haven't
got, I thoroughly wish that they might get them. I certainly don't
believe in the Baroness Banmann, nor yet in Dr. Fleabody; but I don't
think they could have been wrong in going in good company to hear what
a crazy old woman might have to say."
"It was very foolish," said Lord George. "See what has come of it!"
"How could I tell, George? I thought you had promised that you wouldn't
scold any more. Nasty fat old woman! I'm sure I didn't want to hear
her." Then Lord George went back to town with the medical certificate
in his pocket, and Mary, being in her present condition, afraid of the
authorities, was unable to stay and be happy even for one evening with
her father.
During the month the Disabilities created a considerable interest
throughout London, of which Dr. Fleabody reaped the full advantage. The
Baroness was so loud in her clamours that she forced the question of
the Disabilities on the public mind generally, and the result was that
the world flocked to the Institute. The Baroness, as she heard of this,
became louder and louder. It was not this that she wanted. Those who
wished to sympathise with her should send her money,--not go to the
hall to hear that loud imbecile American female! The Baroness, when she
desired to be-little the doctor, always called her a female. And the
Baroness, though in truth she was not personally attractive, did
contrive to surround herself with supporters, and in these days moved
into comfortable lodgings in Wigmore Street. Very few were heard to
speak in her favour, but they who contributed to the relief of her
necessities were many. It was found to be almost impossible to escape
from her without leaving some amount of money in her hands. And then,
in a happy hour, she came at last across an old gentleman who did
appreciate her and her wrongs. How it was that she got an introduction
to Mr. Philogunac Coelebs was not, I think, ever known. It is not
improbable that having heard of his soft heart, his peculiar
propensities, and his wealth, she contrived to introduce herself. It
was, however, suddenly understood that Mr. Philogunac Coelebs, who was
a bachelor and very rich, had taken her by the hand, and intended to
bear all the expenses of the trial. It was after the general intimation
which had been made to the world in this matter that the summons for
Lady Mary had been sent down to Manor Cross.
And now in these halcyon days of March the Baroness also had her
brougham and was to be seen everywhere. How she did work! The attornies
who had the case in hands, found themselves unable to secure themselves
against her. She insisted on seeing the barristers, and absolutely did
work her way into the chambers of that discreet junior Mr. Stuffenruff.
She was full of her case, full of her coming triumph. She would teach
women like Miss Julia Mildmay and Lady Selina Protest what it was to
bamboozle a Baroness of the Holy Roman Empire! And as for the American
female----.
"You'll put her pipe out," suggested Mr. Philogunac Coelebs, who was
not superior to a mild joke.
"Stop her from piping altogether in dis contry," said the Baroness, who
in the midst of her wrath and zeal and labour was superior to all
jokes.
Two days before that fixed for the trial there fell a great blow upon
those who were interested in the matter;--a blow that was heavy on Mr.
Coelebs but heavier still on the attornies. The Baroness had taken
herself off, and when enquiries were made it was found that she was at
Madrid. Mr. Snape, one of the lawyers, was the person who first
informed Mr. Coelebs, and did so in a manner which clearly implied that
he expected Mr. Coelebs to pay the bill. Then Mr. Snape encountered a
terrible disappointment, and Mr. Coelebs was driven to confess his own
disgrace. He had, he said, never undertaken to pay the cost of the
trial, but he had, unfortunately, given the lady a thousand pounds to
enable her to pay the expenses herself. Mr. Snape, expostulated, and,
later on, urged with much persistency, that Mr. Coelebs had more than
once attended in person at the office of Messrs. Snape and Cashett. But
in this matter the lawyers did not prevail. They had taken their orders
from the lady, and must look to the lady for payment. They who best
knew Mr. Philogunac Coelebs thought that he had escaped cheaply, as
there had been many fears that he should make the Baroness altogether
his own.
"I am so glad she has gone," said Mary, when she heard the story. "I
should never have felt safe while that woman was in the country. I'm
quite sure of one thing. I'll never have anything more to do with
disabilities. George need not be afraid about that."