MONEY DEALINGS.
Mr. Sowerby, in his resolution to obtain this good gift for the Vicar
of Framley, did not depend quite alone on the influence of his near
connection with the Lord Petty Bag. He felt the occasion to be one
on which he might endeavour to move even higher powers than that,
and therefore he had opened the matter to the duke—not by direct
application, but through Mr. Fothergill. No man who understood
matters ever thought of going direct to the duke in such an affair as
that. If one wanted to speak about a woman or a horse or a picture
the duke could, on occasions, be affable enough.
But through Mr. Fothergill the duke was approached. It was
represented, with some cunning, that this buying over of the Framley
clergyman from the Lufton side would be a praiseworthy spoiling of
the Amalekites. The doing so would give the Omnium interest a hold
even in the cathedral close. And then it was known to all men that
Mr. Robarts had considerable influence over Lord Lufton himself. So
guided, the Duke of Omnium did say two words to the Prime Minister,
and two words from the duke went a great way, even with Lord Brock.
The upshot of all this was, that Mark Robarts did get the stall; but
he did not hear the tidings of his success till some days after his
return to Framley.
Mr. Sowerby did not forget to tell him of the great effort—the
unusual effort, as he of Chaldicotes called it—which the duke had
made on the subject. “I don’t know when he has done such a thing
before,” said Sowerby; “and you may be quite sure of this, he would
not have done it now, had you not gone to Gatherum Castle when he
asked you: indeed, Fothergill would have known that it was vain to
attempt it. And I’ll tell you what, Mark—it does not do for me to
make little of my own nest, but I truly believe the duke’s word will
be more efficacious than the Lord Petty Bag’s solemn adjuration.”
Mark, of course, expressed his gratitude in proper terms, and did buy
the horse for a hundred and thirty pounds. “He’s as well worth it,”
said Sowerby, “as any animal that ever stood on four legs; and my
only reason for pressing him on you is, that when Tozer’s day does
come round, I know you will have to stand to us to something about
that tune.” It did not occur to Mark to ask him why the horse should
not be sold to some one else, and the money forthcoming in the
regular way. But this would not have suited Mr. Sowerby.
Mark knew that the beast was good, and as he walked to his lodgings
was half proud of his new possession. But then, how would he justify
it to his wife, or how introduce the animal into his stables without
attempting any justification in the matter? And yet, looking to the
absolute amount of his income, surely he might feel himself entitled
to buy a new horse when it suited him. He wondered what Mr. Crawley
would say when he heard of the new purchase. He had lately fallen
into a state of much wondering as to what his friends and neighbours
would say about him.
He had now been two days in town, and was to go down after breakfast
on the following morning so that he might reach home by Friday
afternoon. But on that evening, just as he was going to bed, he was
surprised by Lord Lufton coming into the coffee-room at his hotel.
He walked in with a hurried step, his face was red, and it was clear
that he was very angry.
“Robarts,” said he, walking up to his friend and taking the hand that
was extended to him, “do you know anything about this man, Tozer?”
“Tozer—what Tozer? I have heard Sowerby speak of such a man.”
“Of course you have. If I do not mistake you have written to me about
him yourself.”
“Very probably. I remember Sowerby mentioning the man with reference
to your affairs. But why do you ask me?”
“This man has not only written to me, but has absolutely forced his
way into my rooms when I was dressing for dinner; and absolutely had
the impudence to tell me that if I did not honour some bill which he
holds for eight hundred pounds he would proceed against me.”
“But you settled all that matter with Sowerby?”
“I did settle it at a very great cost to me. Sooner than have a fuss
I paid him through the nose—like a fool that I was—everything that
he claimed. This is an absolute swindle, and if it goes on I will
expose it as such.”
Robarts looked round the room, but luckily there was not a soul in
it but themselves. “You do not mean to say that Sowerby is swindling
you?” said the clergyman.
“It looks very like it,” said Lord Lufton; “and I tell you fairly
that I am not in a humour to endure any more of this sort of thing.
Some years ago I made an ass of myself through that man’s fault. But
four thousand pounds should have covered the whole of what I really
lost. I have now paid more than three times that sum; and, by
heavens! I will not pay more without exposing the whole affair.”
“But, Lufton, I do not understand. What is this bill?—has it your
name to it?”
“Yes, it has: I’ll not deny my name, and if there be absolute need I
will pay it; but if I do so, my lawyer shall sift it, and it shall go
before a jury.”
“But I thought all those bills were paid?”
“I left it to Sowerby to get up the old bills when they were renewed,
and now one of them that has in truth been already honoured is
brought against me.”
Mark could not but think of the two documents which he himself had
signed, and both of which were now undoubtedly in the hands of Tozer,
or of some other gentleman of the same profession;—which both
might be brought against him, the second as soon as he should have
satisfied the first. And then he remembered that Sowerby had said
something to him about an outstanding bill, for the filling up of
which some trifle must be paid, and of this he reminded Lord Lufton.
“And do you call eight hundred pounds a trifle? If so, I do not.”
“They will probably make no such demand as that.”
“But I tell you they do make such a demand, and have made it. The
man whom I saw, and who told me that he was Tozer’s friend, but who
was probably Tozer himself, positively swore to me that he would be
obliged to take legal proceedings if the money were not forthcoming
within a week or ten days. When I explained to him that it was an old
bill that had been renewed, he declared that his friend had given
full value for it.”
“Sowerby said that you would probably have to pay ten pounds to
redeem it. I should offer the man some such sum as that.”
“My intention is to offer the man nothing, but to leave the affair
in the hands of my lawyer with instructions to him to spare
none;—neither myself nor any one else. I am not going to allow such
a man as Sowerby to squeeze me like an orange.”
“But, Lufton, you seem as though you were angry with me.”
“No, I am not. But I think it is as well to caution you about this
man; my transactions with him lately have chiefly been through you,
and therefore—”
“But they have only been so through his and your wish: because I have
been anxious to oblige you both. I hope you don’t mean to say that I
am concerned in these bills.”
“I know that you are concerned in bills with him.”
“Why, Lufton, am I to understand, then, that you are accusing me
of having any interest in these transactions which you have called
swindling?”
“As far as I am concerned there has been swindling, and there is
swindling going on now.”
“But you do not answer my question. Do you bring any accusation
against me? If so, I agree with you that you had better go to your
lawyer.”
“I think that is what I shall do.”
“Very well. But upon the whole, I never heard of a more unreasonable
man, or of one whose thoughts are more unjust than yours. Solely with
the view of assisting you, and solely at your request, I spoke to
Sowerby about these money transactions of yours. Then at his request,
which originated out of your request, he using me as his ambassador
to you, as you had used me as yours to him, I wrote and spoke to you.
And now this is the upshot.”
“I bring no accusation against you, Robarts; but I know you have
dealings with this man. You have told me so yourself.”
“Yes, at his request to accommodate him, I have put my name to a
bill.”
“Only to one?”
“Only to one; and then to that same renewed, or not exactly to that
same, but to one which stands for it. The first was for four hundred
pounds; the last for five hundred.”
“All which you will have to make good, and the world will of course
tell you that you have paid that price for this stall at Barchester.”
This was terrible to be borne. He had heard much lately which had
frightened and scared him, but nothing so terrible as this; nothing
which so stunned him, or conveyed to his mind so frightful a reality
of misery and ruin. He made no immediate answer, but standing on the
hearthrug with his back to the fire, looked up the whole length of
the room. Hitherto his eyes had been fixed upon Lord Lufton’s face,
but now it seemed to him as though he had but little more to do with
Lord Lufton. Lord Lufton and Lord Lufton’s mother were neither now to
be counted among those who wished him well. Upon whom indeed could he
now count, except that wife of his bosom upon whom he was bringing
all this wretchedness?
In that moment of agony ideas ran quickly through his brain. He would
immediately abandon this preferment at Barchester, of which it might
be said with so much colour that he had bought it. He would go to
Harold Smith, and say positively that he declined it. Then he would
return home and tell his wife all that had occurred;—tell the whole
also to Lady Lufton, if that might still be of any service. He would
make arrangement for the payment of both those bills as they might be
presented, asking no questions as to the justice of the claim, making
no complaint to any one, not even to Sowerby. He would put half his
income, if half were necessary, into the hands of Forrest the banker,
till all was paid. He would sell every horse he had. He would part
with his footman and groom, and at any rate strive like a man to get
again a firm footing on good ground. Then, at that moment, he loathed
with his whole soul the position in which he found himself placed,
and his own folly which had placed him there. How could he reconcile
it to his conscience that he was there in London with Sowerby and
Harold Smith, petitioning for Church preferment to a man who should
have been altogether powerless in such a matter, buying horses,
and arranging about past due bills? He did not reconcile it to his
conscience. Mr. Crawley had been right when he told him that he was a
castaway.
Lord Lufton, whose anger during the whole interview had been extreme,
and who had become more angry the more he talked, had now walked once
or twice up and down the room; and as he so walked the idea did occur
to him that he had been unjust. He had come there with the intention
of exclaiming against Sowerby, and of inducing Robarts to convey to
that gentleman, that if he, Lord Lufton, were made to undergo any
further annoyance about this bill, the whole affair should be thrown
into the lawyer’s hands; but instead of doing this, he had brought
an accusation against Robarts. That Robarts had latterly become
Sowerby’s friend rather than his own in all these horrid money
dealings, had galled him; and now he had expressed himself in terms
much stronger than he had intended to use.
“As to you personally, Mark,” he said, coming back to the spot on
which Robarts was standing, “I do not wish to say anything that shall
annoy you.”
“You have said quite enough, Lord Lufton.”
“You cannot be surprised that I should be angry and indignant at the
treatment I have received.”
“You might, I think, have separated in your mind those who have
wronged you, if there has been such wrong, from those who have
only endeavoured to do your will and pleasure for you. That I, as
a clergyman, have been very wrong in taking any part whatsoever
in these matters, I am well aware. That as a man I have been
outrageously foolish in lending my name to Mr. Sowerby, I also know
well enough: it is perhaps as well that I should be told of this
somewhat rudely; but I certainly did not expect the lesson to come
from you.”
“Well, there has been mischief enough. The question is, what we had
better now both do?”
“You have said what you mean to do. You will put the affair into the
hands of your lawyer.”
“Not with any object of exposing you.”
“Exposing me, Lord Lufton! Why, one would think that I had had the
handling of your money.”
“You will misunderstand me. I think no such thing. But do you not
know yourself that if legal steps be taken in this wretched affair,
your arrangements with Sowerby will be brought to light?”
“My arrangements with Sowerby will consist in paying or having to
pay, on his account, a large sum of money, for which I have never had
and shall never have any consideration whatever.”
“And what will be said about this stall at Barchester?”
“After the charge which you brought against me just now, I shall
decline to accept it.”
At this moment three or four other gentlemen entered the room, and
the conversation between our two friends was stopped. They still
remained standing near the fire, but for a few minutes neither of
them said anything. Robarts was waiting till Lord Lufton should go
away, and Lord Lufton had not yet said that which he had come to say.
At last he spoke again, almost in a whisper: “I think it will be best
to ask Sowerby to come to my rooms to-morrow, and I think also that
you should meet him there.”
“I do not see any necessity for my presence,” said Robarts. “It seems
probable that I shall suffer enough for meddling with your affairs,
and I will do so no more.”
“Of course I cannot make you come; but I think it will be only just
to Sowerby, and it will be a favour to me.”
Robarts again walked up and down the room for half-a-dozen times,
trying to resolve what it would most become him to do in the present
emergency. If his name were dragged before the courts,—if he
should be shown up in the public papers as having been engaged in
accommodation bills, that would certainly be ruinous to him. He had
already learned from Lord Lufton’s innuendoes what he might expect to
hear as the public version of his share in these transactions! And
then his wife,—how would she bear such exposure?
“I will meet Mr. Sowerby at your rooms to-morrow, on one condition,”
he at last said.
“And what is that?”
“That I receive your positive assurance that I am not suspected
by you of having had any pecuniary interest whatever in any money
matters with Mr. Sowerby, either as concerns your affairs or those of
anybody else.”
“I have never suspected you of any such thing. But I have thought
that you were compromised with him.”
“And so I am—I am liable for these bills. But you ought to have
known, and do know, that I have never received a shilling on account
of such liability. I have endeavoured to oblige a man whom I regarded
first as your friend, and then as my own; and this has been the
result.”
Lord Lufton did at last give him the assurance that he desired,
as they sat with their heads together over one of the coffee-room
tables; and then Robarts promised that he would postpone his return
to Framley till the Saturday, so that he might meet Sowerby at Lord
Lufton’s chambers in the Albany on the following afternoon. As soon
as this was arranged, Lord Lufton took his leave and went his way.
After that poor Mark had a very uneasy night of it. It was clear
enough that Lord Lufton had thought, if he did not still think, that
the stall at Barchester was to be given as pecuniary recompense in
return for certain money accommodation to be afforded by the nominee
to the dispenser of this patronage. Nothing on earth could be worse
than this. In the first place it would be simony; and then it would
be simony beyond all description mean and simoniacal. The very
thought of it filled Mark’s soul with horror and dismay. It might
be that Lord Lufton’s suspicions were now at rest; but others would
think the same thing, and their suspicions it would be impossible to
allay; those others would consist of the outer world, which is always
so eager to gloat over the detected vice of a clergyman.
And then that wretched horse which he had purchased, and the purchase
of which should have prohibited him from saying that nothing of value
had accrued to him in these transactions with Mr. Sowerby! what was
he to do about that? And then of late he had been spending, and had
continued to spend, more money than he could well afford. This very
journey of his up to London would be most imprudent, if it should
become necessary for him to give up all hope of holding the prebend.
As to that he had made up his mind; but then again he unmade it, as
men always do in such troubles. That line of conduct which he had
laid down for himself in the first moments of his indignation against
Lord Lufton, by adopting which he would have to encounter poverty,
and ridicule, and discomfort, the annihilation of his high hopes,
and the ruin of his ambition—that, he said to himself over and over
again, would now be the best for him. But it is so hard for us to
give up our high hopes, and willingly encounter poverty, ridicule,
and discomfort!
On the following morning, however, he boldly walked down to the
Petty Bag office, determined to let Harold Smith know that he was no
longer desirous of the Barchester stall. He found his brother there,
still writing artistic notes to anxious peeresses on the subject of
Buggins’ non-vacant situation; but the great man of the place, the
Lord Petty Bag himself, was not there. He might probably look in when
the House was beginning to sit, perhaps at four or a little after;
but he certainly would not be at the office in the morning. The
functions of the Lord Petty Bag he was no doubt performing elsewhere.
Perhaps he had carried his work home with him—a practice which the
world should know is not uncommon with civil servants of exceeding
zeal.
Mark did think of opening his heart to his brother, and of leaving
his message with him. But his courage failed him, or perhaps it might
be more correct to say that his prudence prevented him. It would be
better for him, he thought, to tell his wife before he told any one
else. So he merely chatted with his brother for half an hour and then
left him.
The day was very tedious till the hour came at which he was to attend
at Lord Lufton’s rooms; but at last it did come, and just as the
clock struck, he turned out of Piccadilly into the Albany. As he was
going across the court before he entered the building, he was greeted
by a voice just behind him.
“As punctual as the big clock on Barchester tower,” said Mr. Sowerby.
“See what it is to have a summons from a great man, Mr. Prebendary.”
He turned round and extended his hand mechanically to Mr. Sowerby,
and as he looked at him he thought he had never before seen him
so pleasant in appearance, so free from care, and so joyous in
demeanour.
“You have heard from Lord Lufton,” said Mark in a voice that was
certainly very lugubrious.
“Heard from him! oh, yes, of course I have heard from him. I’ll tell
you what it is, Mark,” and he now spoke almost in a whisper as they
walked together along the Albany passage, “Lufton is a child in money
matters—a perfect child. The dearest, finest fellow in the world,
you know; but a very baby in money matters.” And then they entered
his lordship’s rooms.
Lord Lufton’s countenance also was lugubrious enough, but this did
not in the least abash Sowerby, who walked quickly up to the young
lord with his gait perfectly self-possessed and his face radiant with
satisfaction.
“Well, Lufton, how are you?” said he. “It seems that my worthy friend
Tozer has been giving you some trouble?”
Then Lord Lufton with a face by no means radiant with satisfaction
again began the story of Tozer’s fraudulent demand upon him. Sowerby
did not interrupt him, but listened patiently to the end;—quite
patiently, although Lord Lufton, as he made himself more and more
angry by the history of his own wrongs, did not hesitate to pronounce
certain threats against Mr. Sowerby, as he had pronounced them before
against Mark Robarts. He would not, he said, pay a shilling, except
through his lawyer; and he would instruct his lawyer, that before he
paid anything, the whole matter should be exposed openly in court. He
did not care, he said, what might be the effect on himself or any one
else. He was determined that the whole case should go to a jury.
“To grand jury, and special jury, and common jury, and Old Jewry, if
you like,” said Sowerby. “The truth is, Lufton, you lost some money,
and as there was some delay in paying it, you have been harassed.”
“I have paid more than I lost three times over,” said Lord Lufton,
stamping his foot.
“I will not go into that question now. It was settled, as I thought,
some time ago by persons to whom you yourself referred it. But will
you tell me this: Why on earth should Robarts be troubled in this
matter? What has he done?”
“Well, I don’t know. He arranged the matter with you.”
“No such thing. He was kind enough to carry a message from you to me,
and to convey back a return message from me to you. That has been his
part in it.”
“You don’t suppose that I want to implicate him: do you?”
“I don’t think you want to implicate any one, but you are hot-headed
and difficult to deal with, and very irrational into the bargain.
And, what is worse, I must say you are a little suspicious. In all
this matter I have harassed myself greatly to oblige you, and in
return I have got more kicks than halfpence.”
“Did not you give this bill to Tozer—the bill which he now holds?”
“In the first place he does not hold it; and in the next place I did
not give it to him. These things pass through scores of hands before
they reach the man who makes the application for payment.”
“And who came to me the other day?”
“That, I take it, was Tom Tozer, a brother of our Tozer’s.”
“Then he holds the bill, for I saw it with him.”
“Wait a moment; that is very likely. I sent you word that you would
have to pay for taking it up. Of course they don’t abandon those sort
of things without some consideration.”
“Ten pounds, you said,” observed Mark.
“Ten or twenty; some such sum as that. But you were hardly so soft
as to suppose that the man would ask for such a sum. Of course he
would demand the full payment. There is the bill, Lord Lufton,” and
Sowerby, producing a document, handed it across the table to his
lordship. “I gave five-and-twenty pounds for it this morning.”
Lord Lufton took the paper and looked at it. “Yes,” said he, “that’s
the bill. What am I to do with it now?”
“Put it with the family archives,” said Sowerby,—“or behind the
fire, just which you please.”
“And is this the last of them? Can no other be brought up?”
“You know better than I do what paper you may have put your hand to.
I know of no other. At the last renewal that was the only outstanding
bill of which I was aware.”
“And you have paid five-and-twenty pounds for it?”
“I have. Only that you have been in such a tantrum about it, and
would have made such a noise this afternoon if I had not brought it,
I might have had it for fifteen or twenty. In three or four days they
would have taken fifteen.”
“The odd ten pounds does not signify, and I’ll pay you the
twenty-five, of course,” said Lord Lufton, who now began to feel a
little ashamed of himself.
“You may do as you please about that.”
“Oh! it’s my affair, as a matter of course. Any amount of that kind I
don’t mind,” and he sat down to fill in a cheque for the money.
“Well, now, Lufton, let me say a few words to you,” said Sowerby,
standing with his back against the fireplace, and playing with a
small cane which he held in his hand. “For heaven’s sake try and be a
little more charitable to those around you. When you become fidgety
about anything, you indulge in language which the world won’t stand,
though men who know you as well as Robarts and I may consent to put
up with it. You have accused me, since I have been here, of all
manner of iniquity—”
“Now, Sowerby—”
“My dear fellow, let me have my say out. You have accused me, I say,
and I believe that you have accused him. But it has never occurred to
you, I daresay, to accuse yourself.”
“Indeed it has.”
“Of course you have been wrong in having to do with such men as
Tozer. I have also been very wrong. It wants no great moral authority
to tell us that. Pattern gentlemen don’t have dealings with Tozer,
and very much the better they are for not having them. But a man
should have back enough to bear the weight which he himself puts on
it. Keep away from Tozer, if you can, for the future; but if you do
deal with him, for heaven’s sake keep your temper.”
“That’s all very fine, Sowerby; but you know as well as I do—”
“I know this,” said the devil, quoting Scripture, as he folded up the
check for twenty-five pounds, and put it in his pocket, “that when a
man sows tares, he won’t reap wheat, and it’s no use to expect it. I
am tough in these matters, and can bear a great deal—that is, if I
be not pushed too far,” and he looked full into Lord Lufton’s face as
he spoke; “but I think you have been very hard upon Robarts.”
“Never mind me, Sowerby; Lord Lufton and I are very old friends.”
“And may therefore take a liberty with each other. Very well. And
now I’ve done my sermon. My dear dignitary, allow me to congratulate
you. I hear from Fothergill that that little affair of yours has been
definitely settled.”
Mark’s face again became clouded. “I rather think,” said he, “that I
shall decline the presentation.”
“Decline it!” said Sowerby, who, having used his utmost efforts
to obtain it, would have been more absolutely offended by such
vacillation on the vicar’s part than by any personal abuse which
either he or Lord Lufton could heap upon him.
“I think I shall,” said Mark.
“And why?”
Mark looked up at Lord Lufton, and then remained silent for a moment.
“There can be no occasion for such a sacrifice under the present
circumstances,” said his lordship.
“And under what circumstances could there be occasion for it?” asked
Sowerby. “The Duke of Omnium has used some little influence to get
the place for you as a parish clergyman belonging to his county, and
I should think it monstrous if you were now to reject it.”
And then Robarts openly stated the whole of his reasons, explaining
exactly what Lord Lufton had said with reference to the bill
transactions, and to the allegation which would be made as to the
stall having been given in payment for the accommodation.
“Upon my word that’s too bad,” said Sowerby.
“Now, Sowerby, I won’t be lectured,” said Lord Lufton.
“I have done my lecture,” said he, aware, perhaps, that it would
not do for him to push his friend too far, “and I shall not give a
second. But, Robarts, let me tell you this: as far as I know, Harold
Smith has had little or nothing to do with the appointment. The duke
has told the Prime Minister that he was very anxious that a parish
clergyman from the county should go into the chapter, and then, at
Lord Brock’s request, he named you. If under those circumstances you
talk of giving it up, I shall believe you to be insane. As for the
bill which you accepted for me, you need have no uneasiness about it.
The money will be ready; but of course, when that time comes, you
will let me have the hundred and thirty for—”
And then Mr. Sowerby took his leave, having certainly made himself
master of the occasion. If a man of fifty have his wits about him,
and be not too prosy, he can generally make himself master of the
occasion, when his companions are under thirty.
Robarts did not stay at the Albany long after him, but took his
leave, having received some assurances of Lord Lufton’s regret for
what had passed and many promises of his friendship for the future.
Indeed Lord Lufton was a little ashamed of himself. “And as for
the prebend, after what has passed, of course you must accept it.”
Nevertheless his lordship had not omitted to notice Mr. Sowerby’s
hint about the horse and the hundred and thirty pounds.
Robarts, as he walked back to his hotel, thought that he certainly
would accept the Barchester promotion, and was very glad that he had
said nothing on the subject to his brother. On the whole his spirits
were much raised. That assurance of Sowerby’s about the bill was very
comforting to him; and strange to say, he absolutely believed it. In
truth Sowerby had been so completely the winning horse at the late
meeting, that both Lord Lufton and Robarts were inclined to believe
almost anything he said;—which was not always the case with either
of them.