Lady Baldock at Home
About the middle of March Lady Baldock came up from Baddingham to
London, coerced into doing so, as Violet Effingham declared, in
thorough opposition to all her own tastes, by the known wishes of her
friends and relatives. Her friends and relatives, so Miss Effingham
insinuated, were unanimous in wishing that Lady Baldock should
remain at Baddingham Park, and therefore,--that wish having been
indiscreetly expressed,--she had put herself to great inconvenience,
and had come to London in March. “Gustavus will go mad,” said Violet
to Lady Laura. The Gustavus in question was the Lord Baldock of the
present generation, Miss Effingham’s Lady Baldock being the peer’s
mother. “Why does not Lord Baldock take a house himself?” asked Lady
Laura. “Don’t you know, my dear,” Violet answered, “how much we
Baddingham people think of money? We don’t like being vexed and
driven mad, but even that is better than keeping up two households.”
As regarded Violet, the injury arising from Lady Baldock’s early
migration was very great, for she was thus compelled to move from
Grosvenor Place to Lady Baldock’s house in Berkeley Square. “As you
are so fond of being in London, Augusta and I have made up our minds
to come up before Easter,” Lady Baldock had written to her.
“I shall go to her now,” Violet had said to her friend, “because I
have not quite made up my mind as to what I will do for the future.”
“Marry Oswald, and be your own mistress.”
“I mean to be my own mistress without marrying Oswald, though I don’t
see my way quite clearly as yet. I think I shall set up a little
house of my own, and let the world say what it pleases. I suppose
they couldn’t make me out to be a lunatic.”
“I shouldn’t wonder if they were to try,” said Lady Laura.
“They could not prevent me in any other way. But I am in the dark as
yet, and so I shall be obedient and go to my aunt.”
Miss Effingham went to Berkeley Square, and Phineas Finn was
introduced to Lady Baldock. He had been often in Grosvenor Place,
and had seen Violet frequently. Mr. Kennedy gave periodical
dinners,--once a week,--to which everybody went who could get an
invitation; and Phineas had been a guest more than once. Indeed, in
spite of his miseries he had taken to dining out a good deal, and was
popular as an eater of dinners. He could talk when wanted, and did
not talk too much, was pleasant in manners and appearance, and had
already achieved a certain recognised position in London life. Of
those who knew him intimately, not one in twenty were aware from
whence he came, what was his parentage, or what his means of living.
He was a member of Parliament, a friend of Mr. Kennedy’s, was
intimate with Mr. Monk, though an Irishman did not as a rule herd
with other Irishmen, and was the right sort of person to have at your
house. Some people said he was a cousin of Lord Brentford’s, and
others declared that he was Lord Chiltern’s earliest friend. There he
was, however, with a position gained, and even Lady Baldock asked him
to her house.
Lady Baldock had evenings. People went to her house, and stood about
the room and on the stairs, talked to each other for half an hour,
and went away. In these March days there was no crowding, but still
there were always enough of people there to show that Lady Baldock
was successful. Why people should have gone to Lady Baldock’s I
cannot explain;--but there are houses to which people go without
any reason. Phineas received a little card asking him to go, and he
always went.
“I think you like my friend, Mr. Finn,” Lady Laura said to Miss
Effingham, after the first of these evenings.
“Yes, I do. I like him decidedly.”
“So do I. I should hardly have thought that you would have taken a
fancy to him.”
“I hardly know what you call taking a fancy,” said Violet. “I am not
quite sure I like to be told that I have taken a fancy for a young
man.”
“I mean no offence, my dear.”
“Of course you don’t. But, to speak truth, I think I have rather taken
a fancy to him. There is just enough of him, but not too much. I
don’t mean materially,--in regard to his inches; but as to his mental
belongings. I hate a stupid man who can’t talk to me, and I hate a
clever man who talks me down. I don’t like a man who is too lazy to
make any effort to shine; but I particularly dislike the man who is
always striving for effect. I abominate a humble man, but yet I love to
perceive that a man acknowledges the superiority of my sex, and youth,
and all that kind of thing.”
“You want to be flattered without plain flattery.”
“Of course I do. A man who would tell me that I am pretty, unless he
is over seventy, ought to be kicked out of the room. But a man who
can’t show me that he thinks me so without saying a word about it,
is a lout. Now in all those matters, your friend, Mr. Finn, seems to
know what he is about. In other words, he makes himself pleasant,
and, therefore, one is glad to see him.”
“I suppose you do not mean to fall in love with him?”
“Not that I know of, my dear. But when I do, I’ll be sure to give you
notice.”
I fear that there was more of earnestness in Lady Laura’s last
question than Miss Effingham had supposed. She had declared to
herself over and over again that she had never been in love with
Phineas Finn. She had acknowledged to herself, before Mr. Kennedy had
asked her hand in marriage, that there had been danger,--that she
could have learned to love the man if such love would not have been
ruinous to her,--that the romance of such a passion would have been
pleasant to her. She had gone farther than this, and had said to
herself that she would have given way to that romance, and would have
been ready to accept such love if offered to her, had she not put
it out of her own power to marry a poor man by her generosity to
her brother. Then she had thrust the thing aside, and had clearly
understood,--she thought that she had clearly understood,--that life
for her must be a matter of business. Was it not the case with nine
out of every ten among mankind, with nine hundred and ninety-nine out
of every thousand, that life must be a matter of business and not of
romance? Of course she could not marry Mr. Finn, knowing, as she did,
that neither of them had a shilling. Of all men in the world she
esteemed Mr. Kennedy the most, and when these thoughts were passing
through her mind, she was well aware that he would ask her to be
his wife. Had she not resolved that she would accept the offer, she
would not have gone to Loughlinter. Having put aside all romance as
unfitted to her life, she could, she thought, do her duty as Mr.
Kennedy’s wife. She would teach herself to love him. Nay,--she had
taught herself to love him. She was at any rate so sure of her
own heart that she would never give her husband cause to rue the
confidence he placed in her. And yet there was something sore within
her when she thought that Phineas Finn was fond of Violet Effingham.
It was Lady Baldock’s second evening, and Phineas came to the house
at about eleven o’clock. At this time he had encountered a second
and a third interview with Mr. Clarkson, and had already failed in
obtaining any word of comfort from Laurence Fitzgibbon about the
bill. It was clear enough now that Laurence felt that they were both
made safe by their privilege, and that Mr. Clarkson should be treated
as you treat the organ-grinders. They are a nuisance and must be
endured. But the nuisance is not so great but what you can live in
comfort,--if only you are not too sore as to the annoyance. “My dear
fellow,” Laurence had said to him, “I have had Clarkson almost living
in my rooms. He used to drink nearly a pint of sherry a day for me.
All I looked to was that I didn’t live there at the same time. If you
wish it, I’ll send in the sherry.” This was very bad, and Phineas
tried to quarrel with his friend; but he found that it was difficult
to quarrel with Laurence Fitzgibbon.
But though on this side Phineas was very miserable, on another side
he had obtained great comfort. Mr. Monk and he were better friends
than ever. “As to what Turnbull says about me in the House,” Mr.
Monk had said, laughing; “he and I understand each other perfectly.
I should like to see you on your legs, but it is just as well,
perhaps, that you have deferred it. We shall have the real question
on immediately after Easter, and then you’ll have plenty of
opportunities.” Phineas had explained how he had attempted, how he
had failed, and how he had suffered;--and Mr. Monk had been generous
in his sympathy. “I know all about it,” said he, “and have gone
through it all myself. The more respect you feel for the House,
the more satisfaction you will have in addressing it when you have
mastered this difficulty.”
The first person who spoke to Phineas at Lady Baldock’s was Miss
Fitzgibbon, Laurence’s sister. Aspasia Fitzgibbon was a warm woman as
regarded money, and as she was moreover a most discreet spinster,
she was made welcome by Lady Baldock, in spite of the well-known
iniquities of her male relatives. “Mr. Finn,” said she, “how d’ye do?
I want to say a word to ye. Just come here into the corner.” Phineas,
not knowing how to escape, did retreat into the corner with Miss
Fitzgibbon. “Tell me now, Mr. Finn;--have ye been lending money to
Laurence?”
“No; I have lent him no money,” said Phineas, much astonished by the
question.
“Don’t. That’s my advice to ye. Don’t. On any other matter Laurence
is the best creature in the world,--but he’s bad to lend money to.
You ain’t in any hobble with him, then?”
“Well;--nothing to speak of. What makes you ask?”
“Then you are in a hobble? Dear, dear! I never saw such a man as
Laurence;--never. Good-bye. I wouldn’t do it again, if I were
you;--that’s all.” Then Miss Fitzgibbon came out of the corner and
made her way down-stairs.
Phineas immediately afterwards came across Miss Effingham. “I did not
know,” said she, “that you and the divine Aspasia were such close
allies.”
“We are the dearest friends in the world, but she has taken my breath
away now.”
“May a body be told how she has done that?” Violet asked.
“Well, no; I’m afraid not, even though the body be Miss Effingham. It
was a profound secret;--really a secret concerning a third person,
and she began about it just as though she were speaking about the
weather!”
“How charming! I do so like her. You haven’t heard, have you, that
Mr. Ratler proposed to her the other day?”
“No!”
“But he did;--at least, so she tells everybody. She said she’d take
him if he would promise to get her brother’s salary doubled.”
“Did she tell you?”
“No; not me. And of course I don’t believe a word of it. I suppose
Barrington Erle made up the story. Are you going out of town next
week, Mr. Finn?” The week next to this was Easter-week. “I heard you
were going into Northamptonshire.”
“From Lady Laura?”
“Yes;--from Lady Laura.”
“I intend to spend three days with Lord Chiltern at Willingford. It
is an old promise. I am going to ride his horses,--that is, if I am
able to ride them.”
“Take care what you are about, Mr. Finn;--they say his horses are so
dangerous!”
“I’m rather good at falling, I flatter myself.”
“I know that Lord Chiltern rides anything he can sit, so long as it
is some animal that nobody else will ride. It was always so with him.
He is so odd; is he not?”
Phineas knew, of course, that Lord Chiltern had more than once asked
Violet Effingham to be his wife,--and he believed that she, from her
intimacy with Lady Laura, must know that he knew it. He had also
heard Lady Laura express a very strong wish that, in spite of these
refusals, Violet might even yet become her brother’s wife. And
Phineas also knew that Violet Effingham was becoming, in his own
estimation, the most charming woman of his acquaintance. How was he
to talk to her about Lord Chiltern?
“He is odd,” said Phineas; “but he is an excellent fellow,--whom his
father altogether misunderstands.”
“Exactly,--just so; I am so glad to hear you say that,--you who have
never had the misfortune to have anything to do with a bad set. Why
don’t you tell Lord Brentford? Lord Brentford would listen to you.”
“To me?”
“Yes;--of course he would,--for you are just the link that is
wanting. You are Chiltern’s intimate friend, and you are also the
friend of big-wigs and Cabinet Ministers.”
“Lord Brentford would put me down at once if I spoke to him on such a
subject.”
“I am sure he would not. You are too big to be put down, and no man
can really dislike to hear his son well spoken of by those who are
well spoken of themselves. Won’t you try, Mr. Finn?” Phineas said
that he would think of it,--that he would try if any fit opportunity
could be found. “Of course you know how intimate I have been with the
Standishes,” said Violet; “that Laura is to me a sister, and that
Oswald used to be almost a brother.”
“Why do not you speak to Lord Brentford;--you who are his favourite?”
“There are reasons, Mr. Finn. Besides, how can any girl come forward
and say that she knows the disposition of any man? You can live with
Lord Chiltern, and see what he is made of, and know his thoughts, and
learn what is good in him, and also what is bad. After all, how is
any girl really to know anything of a man’s life?”
“If I can do anything, Miss Effingham, I will,” said Phineas.
“And then we shall all of us be so grateful to you,” said Violet,
with her sweetest smile.
Phineas, retreating from this conversation, stood for a while alone,
thinking of it. Had she spoken thus of Lord Chiltern because she did
love him or because she did not? And the sweet commendations which
had fallen from her lips upon him,--him, Phineas Finn,--were they
compatible with anything like a growing partiality for himself, or
were they incompatible with any such feeling? Had he most reason to
be comforted or to be discomfited by what had taken place? It seemed
hardly possible to his imagination that Violet Effingham should
love such a nobody as he. And yet he had had fair evidence that one
standing as high in the world as Violet Effingham would fain have
loved him could she have followed the dictates of her heart. He had
trembled when he had first resolved to declare his passion to Lady
Laura,--fearing that she would scorn him as being presumptuous. But
there had been no cause for such fear as that. He had declared his
love, and she had not thought him to be presumptuous. That now was
ages ago,--eight months since; and Lady Laura had become a married
woman. Since he had become so warmly alive to the charms of Violet
Effingham he had determined, with stern propriety, that a passion for
a married woman was disgraceful. Such love was in itself a sin, even
though it was accompanied by the severest forbearance and the most
rigid propriety of conduct. No;--Lady Laura had done wisely to check
the growing feeling of partiality which she had admitted; and now
that she was married, he would be as wise as she. It was clear to him
that, as regarded his own heart, the way was open to him for a new
enterprise. But what if he were to fail again, and be told by Violet,
when he declared his love, that she had just engaged herself to Lord
Chiltern!
“What were you and Violet talking about so eagerly?” said Lady Laura
to him, with a smile that, in its approach to laughter, almost
betrayed its mistress.
“We were talking about your brother.”
“You are going to him, are you not?”
“Yes; I leave London on Sunday night;--but only for a day or two.”
“Has he any chance there, do you think?”
“What, with Miss Effingham?”
“Yes;--with Violet. Sometimes I think she loves him.”
“How can I say? In such a matter you can judge better than I can do.
One woman with reference to another can draw the line between love
and friendship. She certainly likes Chiltern.”
“Oh, I believe she loves him. I do indeed. But she fears him. She
does not quite understand how much there is of tenderness with that
assumed ferocity. And Oswald is so strange, so unwise, so impolitic,
that though he loves her better than all the world beside, he will
not sacrifice even a turn of a word to win her. When he asks her to
marry him, he almost flies at her throat, as an angry debtor who
applies for instant payment. Tell him, Mr. Finn, never to give it
over;--and teach him that he should be soft with her. Tell him, also,
that in her heart she likes him. One woman, as you say, knows another
woman; and I am certain he would win her if he would only be gentle
with her.” Then, again, before they parted, Lady Laura told him that
this marriage was the dearest wish of her heart, and that there would
be no end to her gratitude if Phineas could do anything to promote
it. All which again made our hero unhappy.