THE LAWYER ABROAD
Half an hour later Lord Audley paused in the hall at Meurice’s, and
having given his cloak and hat to a servant went thoughtfully up the
wide staircase. He opened the door of a room on the first floor. A
stout man with a bald head, who had been for some time yawning over the
dying fire, rose to his feet and remained standing.
Audley nodded. “Hallo, Stubbs!” he said carelessly, “not in bed yet?”
“No, my lord,” the other answered. “I waited to learn if your lordship
had any orders for England.”
“Well, sit down now. I’ve something to tell you.” My lord stooped as he
spoke and warmed his hands at the embers; then rising, he stood with
his back to the hearth. The stout man sat forward on his chair with an
air of deference. His double chin rested on the ample folds of a soft
white stock secured by a gold pin in the shape of a wheat-sheaf. He
wore black knee-breeches and stockings, and his dress, though plain,
bore the stamp of neatness and prosperity.
For a minute or two Audley continued to look thoughtfully before him.
At length, “May I take it that this claim is really at an end now?” he
said. “Is the decision final, I mean?”
“Unless new evidence crops up,” Stubbs answered—he was a lawyer—“the
decision is certainly final. With your lordship’s signature to the
papers I brought over——”
“But the claimant might try again?”
“Mr. John Audley might do anything,” Stubbs returned. “I believe him to
be mad upon the point, and therefore capable of much. But he could only
move on new evidence of the most cogent nature. I do not believe that
such evidence exists.”
His employer weighed this for some time. At length, “Then if you were
in my place,” he said, “you would not be tempted to hedge?”
“To hedge?” the lawyer exclaimed, as if he had never heard the word
before. “I am afraid I don’t understand.”
“I will explain. But first, tell me this. If anything happens to me
before I have a child, John Audley succeeds to the peerage? That is
clear?”
“Certainly! Mr. John Audley, the claimant, is also your heir-at-law.”
“To title and estates—such as they are?”
“To both, my lord.”
“Then follow me another step, Stubbs. Failing John Audley, who is the
next heir?”
“Mr. Peter Audley,” Stubbs replied, “his only brother, would succeed,
if he were alive. But it is common ground that he is dead. I knew Mr.
Peter, and, if I may say it of an Audley, my lord, a more shiftless,
weak, improvident gentleman never lived. And obstinate as the devil! He
married into trade, and Mr. John never forgave it—never forgave it, my
lord. Never spoke of his brother or to his brother from that time. It
was before the Reform Bill,” the lawyer continued with a sigh. “There
were no railways then and things were different. Dear, dear, how the
world changes! Mr. Peter must have gone abroad ten years ago, but until
he was mentioned in the suit I don’t think that I had heard his name
ten times in as many years. And he an Audley!”
“He had a child?”
“Only one, a daughter.”
“Would she come in after Mr. John?”
“Yes, my lord, she would—if living.”
“I’ve been talking to her this evening.”
“Ah!” The lawyer was not so simple as he seemed, and for a minute or
two he had foreseen the _dénouement_. “Ah!” he repeated, thoughtfully
rubbing his plump calf. “I see, my lord. Mr. Peter Audley’s daughter?
Really! And if I may venture to ask, what is she like?”
Audley paused before he answered. Then, “If you have painted the father
aright, Stubbs, I should say that she was his opposite in all but his
obstinacy. A calm and self-reliant young woman, if I am any judge.”
“And handsome?”
“Yes, with a look of breeding. At the same time she is penniless and
dependent, teaching English in a kind of charity school, cheek by jowl
with a princess!”
“God bless my soul!” cried the lawyer, astonished at last. “A
princess!”
“Who is a good creature as women go, but as likely as not to send her
adrift to-morrow.”
“Tut-tut-tut!” muttered the other.
“However, I’ll tell you the story,” Audley concluded. And he did so.
When he had done, “Well,” Stubbs exclaimed, “for a coincidence——”
“Ah, there,” the young man broke in, “I fancy, all’s not said. I take
it the Princess noted the name, but was too polite to question me.
Anyway, the girl is there. She is dependent, friendless; attractive,
and well-bred. For a moment it did occur to me—she is John Audley’s
heiress—that I might make all safe by——” His voice dropped. His last
words were inaudible.
“The chance is so very remote,” said the lawyer, aware that he was on
delicate ground, and that the other was rather following out his own
thoughts than consulting him.
“It is. The idea crossed my mind only for a moment—of course it’s
absurd for a man as poor as I am. There is hardly a poorer peer out of
Ireland—you know that. Fourteenth baron without a roof to my house or a
pane of glass in my windows! And a rent-roll when all is told of——”
“A little short of three thousand,” the lawyer muttered.
“Two thousand five hundred, by God, and not a penny more! If any man
ought to marry money, I am that man, Stubbs!”
Mr. Stubbs, staring at the fire with a hand on each knee, assented
respectfully. “I’ve always hoped that you would, my lord,” he said,
“though I’ve not ventured to say it.”
“Yes! Well—putting that aside,” the other resumed, “what is to be done
about her? I’ve been thinking it over, and I fancy that I’ve hit on the
right line. John Audley’s given me trouble enough. I’ll give him some.
I’ll make him provide for her, d—n him, or I don’t know my man!”
“I’d like to know, my lord,” Stubbs ventured thoughtfully, “why he
didn’t answer her letters. He hated her father, but it is not like Mr.
John to let the young lady drift. He’s crazy about the family, and she
is his next heir. He’s a lonely man, too, and there is room at the
Gatehouse.”
Audley paused, half-way across the room. “I wish we had never leased
the Gatehouse to him!”
“It’s not everybody’s house, my lord. It’s lonely and——”
“It’s too near Beaudelays!”
“If your lordship were living at the Great House, quite so,” the lawyer
agreed. “But, as it is, the rent is useful, and the lease was made
before our time, so that we have no choice.”
“I shall always believe that he had a reason for going there!”
“He had an idea that it strengthened his claim,” the lawyer said
indulgently. “Nothing beyond that, my lord.”
“Well, I’ve made up my mind to increase his family by a niece!” the
other replied. “He shall have the girl whether he likes it or not. Take
a pen, man, and sit down. He’s spoiled my breakfast many a time with
his confounded Writs of Error, or whatever you call them, and for once
I’ll be even with him. Say—yes, Stubbs, say this:
“‘I am directed by Lord Audley to inform you that a young lady,
believed to be a daughter of the late Mr. Peter Audley, and recently
living in poverty in an obscure’—yes, Stubbs, say obscure—‘part of
Paris, has been rescued by the benevolence of a Polish lady. For the
present she is in the lady’s house in a menial capacity, and is
dependent on her charity. Lord Audley is informed that the young lady
made application to you without result, but this report his lordship
discredits. Still, he feels himself concerned; and if those to whom she
naturally looks decline to aid her, it is his lordship’s intention to
make such provision as may enable her to live respectably. I am to
inform you that Miss Audley’s address is the Hôtel Lambert, Ile St.
Louis, Paris. Letters should be addressed “Care of the Housekeeper.”’”
“He won’t like the last touch!” the young man continued, with a quiet
chuckle. “If that does not touch him on the raw, I’ll yield up the
title to-morrow. And now, Stubbs, good-night.”
But Stubbs did not take the hint. “I want to say one word, my lord,
about the borough—about Riddsley,” he said. “We put in Mr. Mottisfont
at the last election, your lordship’s interest just tipping the scale.
We think, therefore, that a word from you may set right what is going
wrong.”
“What is it?”
“There’s a strong feeling,” the lawyer answered, his face serious,
“that the party is not being led aright. And that Mr. Mottisfont, who
is old——”
“Is willing to go with the party, eh, Stubbs?”
“No, my lord, with the party leaders. Which is a different thing. Sir
Robert Peel—the land put him in, but, d—n me, my lord”—the lawyer’s
manner lost much of its deference and he spoke bluntly and strongly—“it
looks as if he were going to put the land out! An income-tax in peace
time, we’ve taken that. And less protection for the farmer, very
good—if it must be. But all this taking off of duties, this letting in
of Canadian corn—I tell you, my lord, there’s an ugly feeling abroad!
There are a good many in Riddsley say that he is going to repeal the
Corn Laws altogether; that he’s sold us to the League, and won’t be
long before he delivers us!”
The big man sitting back in his chair smiled. “It seems to me,” he
said, “that you are travelling rather fast and rather far, Stubbs!”
“That’s just what we fear Sir Robert is doing!” the lawyer retorted
smartly, the other’s rank forgotten. “And you may take it from me the
borough won’t stand it, my lord, and the sooner Mr. Mottisfont has a
hint the better. If he follows Peel too far, the bottom will fall out
of his seat. There’s no Corn Law leaguer will ever sit for Riddsley!”
“With your help, anyway, Stubbs,” my lord said with a smile. The
lawyer’s excitement amused him.
“No, my lord! Never with my help! I believe that on the landed interest
rests the stability of the country! It was the landed interest that
supported Pitt and beat Bony, and brought us through the long war. It
was the landed interest that kept us from revolution in the dark days
after the war. And now because the men that turn cotton and iron and
clay into money by the help of the devil’s breath—because they want to
pay lower wages——”
“The ark of the covenant is to be overthrown, eh?” the young man
laughed. “Why, to listen to you, Stubbs, one would think that you were
the largest landowner in the county!”
“No, my lord,” the lawyer answered. “But it’s the landowners have made
me what I am. And it’s the landowners and the farmers that Riddsley
lives by and is going to stand by! And the sooner Mr. Mottisfont knows
that the better. He was elected as a Tory, and a Tory he must stop,
whether Sir Robert turns his coat or not!”
“You want me to speak to Mottisfont?”
“We do, my lord. Just a word. I was at the Ordinary last fair day, and
there was nothing else talked of. Free Canadian corn was too like free
French corn and free Belgian corn for Stafford wits to see much
difference. And Peel is too like repeal, my lord. We are beginning to
see that.”
Audley shrugged his shoulders. “The party is satisfied,” he said. “And
Mottisfont? I can’t drive the man.”
“No, but a word from you——”
“Well, I’ll think about it. But I fancy you’re overrunning the scent.”
“Then the line is not straight!” the lawyer retorted shrewdly.
“However, if I have been too warm, I beg pardon, my lord.”
“I’ll bear it in mind,” Audley answered. “Very good. And now,
good-night, Stubbs. Don’t forget to send the letter to John Audley as
soon as you reach London.”
Stubbs replied that he would, and took his leave. He had said his say
on the borough question, lord or no lord; which to a Briton—and he was
a typical Briton—was a satisfaction.
But half an hour later, when he had drawn his nightcap down to his ears
and stood, the extinguisher in his hand, he paused. “He’s a sober hand
for a young man,” he thought, “a very sober hand. I warrant he will
never run his ship on the rocks for lack of a good look-out!”