Lady Baldock Does Not Send a Card to Phineas Finn
Lady Baldock’s house in Berkeley Square was very stately,--a large
house with five front windows in a row, and a big door, and a huge
square hall, and a fat porter in a round-topped chair;--but it was
dingy and dull, and could not have been painted for the last ten
years, or furnished for the last twenty. Nevertheless, Lady Baldock
had “evenings,” and people went to them,--though not such a crowd of
people as would go to the evenings of Lady Glencora. Now Mr. Phineas
Finn had not been asked to the evenings of Lady Baldock for the
present season, and the reason was after this wise.
“Yes, Mr. Finn,” Lady Baldock had said to her daughter, who, early in
the spring, was preparing the cards. “You may send one to Mr. Finn,
certainly.”
“I don’t know that he is very nice,” said Augusta Boreham, whose eyes
at Saulsby had been sharper perhaps than her mother’s, and who had
her suspicions.
But Lady Baldock did not like interference from her daughter. “Mr.
Finn, certainly,” she continued. “They tell me that he is a very
rising young man, and he sits for Lord Brentford’s borough. Of course
he is a Radical, but we cannot help that. All the rising young men
are Radicals now. I thought him very civil at Saulsby.”
“But, mamma--”
“Well!”
“Don’t you think that he is a little free with Violet?”
“What on earth do you mean, Augusta?”
“Have you not fancied that he is--fond of her?”
“Good gracious, no!”
“I think he is. And I have sometimes fancied that she is fond of him,
too.”
“I don’t believe a word of it, Augusta,--not a word. I should have
seen it if it was so. I am very sharp in seeing such things. They
never escape me. Even Violet would not be such a fool as that. Send
him a card, and if he comes I shall soon see.” Miss Boreham quite
understood her mother, though she could never master her,--and the
card was prepared. Miss Boreham could never master her mother by her
own efforts; but it was, I think, by a little intrigue on her part
that Lady Baldock was mastered, and, indeed, altogether cowed, in
reference to our hero, and that this victory was gained on that very
afternoon in time to prevent the sending of the card.
When the mother and daughter were at tea, before dinner, Lord Baldock
came into the room, and, after having been patted and petted and
praised by his mother, he took up all the cards out of a china bowl
and ran his eyes over them. “Lord Fawn!” he said, “the greatest ass
in all London! Lady Hartletop! you know she won’t come.” “I don’t
see why she shouldn’t come,” said Lady Baldock;--“a mere country
clergyman’s daughter!” “Julius Cæsar Conway;--a great friend of mine,
and therefore he always blackballs my other friends at the club. Lord
Chiltern; I thought you were at daggers drawn with Chiltern.” “They
say he is going to be reconciled to his father, Gustavus, and I do it
for Lord Brentford’s sake. And he won’t come, so it does not signify.
And I do believe that Violet has really refused him.” “You are quite
right about his not coming,” said Lord Baldock, continuing to read
the cards; “Chiltern certainly won’t come. Count Sparrowsky;--I
wonder what you know about Sparrowsky that you should ask him here.”
“He is asked about, Gustavus; he is indeed,” pleaded Lady Baldock. “I
believe that Sparrowsky is a penniless adventurer. Mr. Monk; well,
he is a Cabinet Minister. Sir Gregory Greeswing; you mix your people
nicely at any rate. Sir Gregory Greeswing is the most old-fashioned
Tory in England.” “Of course we are not political, Gustavus.”
“Phineas Finn. They come alternately,--one and one.”
“Mr. Finn is asked everywhere, Gustavus.”
“I don’t doubt it. They say he is a very good sort of fellow. They
say also that Violet has found that out as well as other people.”
“What do you mean, Gustavus?”
“I mean that everybody is saying that this Phineas Finn is going to
set himself up in the world by marrying your niece. He is quite right
to try it on, if he has a chance.”
“I don’t think he would be right at all,” said Lady Baldock, with
much energy. “I think he would be wrong,--shamefully wrong. They say
he is the son of an Irish doctor, and that he hasn’t a shilling in
the world.”
“That is just why he would be right. What is such a man to do, but to
marry money? He’s a deuced good-looking fellow, too, and will be sure
to do it.”
“He should work for his money in the city, then, or somewhere there.
But I don’t believe it, Gustavus; I don’t, indeed.”
“Very well. I only tell you what I hear. The fact is that he and
Chiltern have already quarrelled about her. If I were to tell you
that they have been over to Holland together and fought a duel about
her, you wouldn’t believe that.”
“Fought a duel about Violet! People don’t fight duels now, and I
should not believe it.”
“Very well. Then send your card to Mr. Finn.” And, so saying, Lord
Baldock left the room.
Lady Baldock sat in silence for some time toasting her toes at the
fire, and Augusta Boreham sat by, waiting for orders. She felt pretty
nearly sure that new orders would be given if she did not herself
interfere. “You had better put by that card for the present, my
dear,” said Lady Baldock at last. “I will make inquiries. I don’t
believe a word of what Gustavus has said. I don’t think that even
Violet is such a fool as that. But if rash and ill-natured people
have spoken of it, it may be as well to be careful.”
“It is always well to be careful;--is it not, mamma?”
“Not but what I think it very improper that these things should be
said about a young woman; and as for the story of the duel, I don’t
believe a word of it. It is absurd. I dare say that Gustavus invented
it at the moment, just to amuse himself.”
The card of course was not sent, and Lady Baldock at any rate put so
much faith in her son’s story as to make her feel it to be her duty
to interrogate her niece on the subject. Lady Baldock at this period
of her life was certainly not free from fear of Violet Effingham.
In the numerous encounters which took place between them, the aunt
seldom gained that amount of victory which would have completely
satisfied her spirit. She longed to be dominant over her niece as she
was dominant over her daughter; and when she found that she missed
such supremacy, she longed to tell Violet to depart from out her
borders, and be no longer niece of hers. But had she ever done so,
Violet would have gone at the instant, and then terrible things would
have followed. There is a satisfaction in turning out of doors a
nephew or niece who is pecuniarily dependent, but when the youthful
relative is richly endowed, the satisfaction is much diminished. It
is the duty of a guardian, no doubt, to look after the ward; but if
this cannot be done, the ward’s money should at least be held with as
close a fist as possible. But Lady Baldock, though she knew that she
would be sorely wounded, poked about on her old body with the sharp
lances of disobedience, and struck with the cruel swords of satire,
if she took upon herself to scold or even to question Violet,
nevertheless would not abandon the pleasure of lecturing and
teaching. “It is my duty,” she would say to herself, “and though it
be taken in a bad spirit, I will always perform my duty.” So she
performed her duty, and asked Violet Effingham some few questions
respecting Phineas Finn. “My dear,” she said, “do you remember
meeting a Mr. Finn at Saulsby?”
“A Mr. Finn, aunt! Why, he is a particular friend of mine. Of course
I do, and he was at Saulsby. I have met him there more than once.
Don’t you remember that we were riding about together?”
“I remember that he was there, certainly; but I did not know that he
was a special--friend.”
“Most especial, aunt. A 1, I may say;--among young men, I mean.”
Lady Baldock was certainly the most indiscreet of old women in such a
matter as this, and Violet the most provoking of young ladies. Lady
Baldock, believing that there was something to fear,--as, indeed,
there was, much to fear,--should have been content to destroy the
card, and to keep the young lady away from the young gentleman,
if such keeping away was possible to her. But Miss Effingham was
certainly very wrong to speak of any young man as being A 1. Fond as
I am of Miss Effingham, I cannot justify her, and must acknowledge
that she used the most offensive phrase she could find, on purpose to
annoy her aunt.
“Violet,” said Lady Baldock, bridling up, “I never heard such a word
before from the lips of a young lady.”
“Not as A 1? I thought it simply meant very good.”
“A 1 is a nobleman,” said Lady Baldock.
“No, aunt;--A 1 is a ship,--a ship that is very good,” said Violet.
“And do you mean to say that Mr. Finn is,--is,--is,--very good?”
“Yes, indeed. You ask Lord Brentford, and Mr. Kennedy. You know he
saved poor Mr. Kennedy from being throttled in the streets.”
“That has nothing to do with it. A policeman might have done that.”
“Then he would have been A 1 of policemen,--though A 1 does not mean
a policeman.”
“He would have done his duty, and so perhaps did Mr. Finn.”
“Of course he did, aunt. It couldn’t have been his duty to stand
by and see Mr. Kennedy throttled. And he nearly killed one of the
men, and took the other prisoner with his own hands. And he made a
beautiful speech the other day. I read every word of it. I am so glad
he’s a Liberal. I do like young men to be Liberals.” Now Lord Baldock
was a Tory, as had been all the Lord Baldocks,--since the first who
had been bought over from the Whigs in the time of George III at the
cost of a barony.
“You have nothing to do with politics, Violet.”
“Why shouldn’t I have something to do with politics, aunt?”
“And I must tell you that your name is being very unpleasantly
mentioned in connection with that of this young man because of your
indiscretion.”
“What indiscretion?” Violet, as she made her demand for a more direct
accusation, stood quite upright before her aunt, looking the old
woman full in the face,--almost with her arms akimbo.
“Calling him A 1, Violet.”
“People have been talking about me and Mr. Finn, because I just now,
at this very moment, called him A 1 to you! If you want to scold me
about anything, aunt, do find out something less ridiculous than
that.”
“It was most improper language,--and if you used it to me, I am sure
you would to others.”
“To what others?”
“To Mr. Finn,--and those sort of people.”
“Call Mr. Finn A 1 to his face! Well,--upon my honour I don’t know
why I should not. Lord Chiltern says he rides beautifully, and if we
were talking about riding I might do so.”
“You have no business to talk to Lord Chiltern about Mr. Finn at
all.”
“Have I not? I thought that perhaps the one sin might palliate
the other. You know, aunt, no young lady, let her be ever so
ill-disposed, can marry two objectionable young men,--at the same
time.”
“I said nothing about your marrying Mr. Finn.”
“Then, aunt, what did you mean?”
“I meant that you should not allow yourself to be talked of with an
adventurer, a young man without a shilling, a person who has come
from nobody knows where in the bogs of Ireland.”
“But you used to ask him here.”
“Yes,--as long as he knew his place. But I shall not do so again. And
I must beg you to be circumspect.”
“My dear aunt, we may as well understand each other. I will not be
circumspect, as you call it. And if Mr. Finn asked me to marry him
to-morrow, and if I liked him well enough, I would take him,--even
though he had been dug right out of a bog. Not only because I liked
him,--mind! If I were unfortunate enough to like a man who was
nothing, I would refuse him in spite of my liking,--because he was
nothing. But this young man is not nothing. Mr. Finn is a fine
fellow, and if there were no other reason to prevent my marrying him
than his being the son of a doctor, and coming out of the bogs, that
would not do so. Now I have made a clean breast to you as regards
Mr. Finn; and if you do not like what I’ve said, aunt, you must
acknowledge that you have brought it on yourself.”
Lady Baldock was left for a time speechless. But no card was sent to
Phineas Finn.