Another Duel
It happened that there were at this time certain matters of business
to be settled between the Duke of Omnium and his nephew Mr. Palliser,
respecting which the latter called upon his uncle on the morning
after the Duke had committed himself by his offer. Mr. Palliser had
come by appointment made with Mr. Fothergill, the Duke’s man of
business, and had expected to meet Mr. Fothergill. Mr. Fothergill,
however, was not with the Duke, and the uncle told the nephew that
the business had been postponed. Then Mr. Palliser asked some
question as to the reason of such postponement, not meaning much by
his question,--and the Duke, after a moment’s hesitation, answered
him, meaning very much by his answer. “The truth is, Plantagenet,
that it is possible that I may marry, and if so this arrangement
would not suit me.”
“Are you going to be married?” asked the astonished nephew.
“It is not exactly that,--but it is possible that I may do so. Since
I proposed this matter to Fothergill, I have been thinking over it,
and I have changed my mind. It will make but little difference to
you; and after all you are a far richer man than I am.”
“I am not thinking of money, Duke,” said Plantagenet Palliser.
“Of what then were you thinking?”
“Simply of what you told me. I do not in the least mean to
interfere.”
“I hope not, Plantagenet.”
“But I could not hear such a statement from you without some
surprise. Whatever you do I hope will tend to make you happy.”
So much passed between the uncle and the nephew, and what the uncle
told to the nephew, the nephew of course told to his wife. “He was
with her again, yesterday,” said Lady Glencora, “for more than an
hour. And he had been half the morning dressing himself before he
went to her.”
“He is not engaged to her, or he would have told me,” said
Plantagenet Palliser.
“I think he would, but there is no knowing. At the present moment I
have only one doubt,--whether to act upon him or upon her.”
“I do not see that you can do good by going to either.”
“Well, we will see. If she be the woman I take her to be, I think I
could do something with her. I have never supposed her to be a bad
woman,--never. I will think of it.” Then Lady Glencora left her
husband, and did not consult him afterwards as to the course she
would pursue. He had his budget to manage, and his speeches to make.
The little affair of the Duke and Madame Goesler, she thought it best
to take into her own hands without any assistance from him. “What a
fool I was,” she said to herself, “to have her down there when the
Duke was at Matching!”
Madame Goesler, when she was left alone, felt that now indeed she
must make up her mind. She had asked for two days. The intervening
day was a Sunday, and on the Monday she must send her answer. She
might doubt at any rate for this one night,--the Saturday night,--and
sit playing, as it were, with the coronet of a duchess in her lap.
She had been born the daughter of a small country attorney, and now a
duke had asked her to be his wife,--and a duke who was acknowledged
to stand above other dukes! Nothing at any rate could rob her of that
satisfaction. Whatever resolution she might form at last, she had by
her own resources reached a point of success in remembering which
there would always be a keen gratification. It would be much to be
Duchess of Omnium; but it would be something also to have refused to
be a Duchess of Omnium. During that evening, that night, and the next
morning, she remained playing with the coronet in her lap. She would
not go to church. What good could any sermon do her while that bauble
was dangling before her eyes? After church-time, about two o’clock,
Phineas Finn came to her. Just at this period Phineas would come
to her often;--sometimes full of a new decision to forget Violet
Effingham altogether, at others minded to continue his siege let the
hope of success be ever so small. He had now heard that Violet and
Lord Chiltern had in truth quarrelled, and was of course anxious to
be advised to continue the siege. When he first came in and spoke a
word or two, in which there was no reference to Violet Effingham,
there came upon Madame Goesler a strong wish to decide at once that
she would play no longer with the coronet, that the gem was not worth
the cost she would be called upon to pay for it. There was something
in the world better for her than the coronet,--if only it might be
had. But within ten minutes he had told her the whole tale about Lord
Chiltern, and how he had seen Violet at Lady Baldock’s,--and how
there might yet be hope for him. What would she advise him to do? “Go
home, Mr. Finn,” she said, “and write a sonnet to her eyebrow. See if
that will have any effect.”
“Ah, well! It is natural that you should laugh at me; but somehow, I
did not expect it from you.”
“Do not be angry with me. What I mean is that such little things seem
to influence this Violet of yours.”
“Do they? I have not found that they do so.”
“If she had loved Lord Chiltern she would not have quarrelled with
him for a few words. If she had loved you, she would not have
accepted Lord Chiltern. If she loves neither of you, she should say
so. I am losing my respect for her.”
“Do not say that, Madame Goesler. I respect her as strongly as I love
her.” Then Madame Goesler almost made up her mind that she would have
the coronet. There was a substance about the coronet that would not
elude her grasp.
Late that afternoon, while she was still hesitating, there came
another caller to the cottage in Park Lane. She was still hesitating,
feeling that she had as yet another night before her. Should she be
Duchess of Omnium or not? All that she wished to be, she could not
be;--but to be Duchess of Omnium was within her reach. Then she began
to ask herself various questions. Would the Queen refuse to accept
her in her new rank? Refuse! How could any Queen refuse to accept
her? She had not done aught amiss in life. There was no slur on her
name; no stain on her character. What though her father had been a
small attorney, and her first husband a Jew banker! She had broken
no law of God or man, had been accused of breaking no law, which
breaking or which accusation need stand in the way of her being as
good a duchess as any other woman! She was sitting thinking of this,
almost angry with herself at the awe with which the proposed rank
inspired her, when Lady Glencora was announced to her.
“Madame Goesler,” said Lady Glencora, “I am very glad to find you.”
“And I more than equally so, to be found,” said Madame Goesler,
smiling with all her grace.
“My uncle has been with you since I saw you last?”
“Oh yes;--more than once if I remember right. He was here yesterday
at any rate.”
“He comes often to you then?”
“Not so often as I would wish, Lady Glencora. The Duke is one of my
dearest friends.”
“It has been a quick friendship.”
“Yes;--a quick friendship,” said Madame Goesler. Then there was a
pause for some moments which Madame Goesler was determined that she
would not break. It was clear to her now on what ground Lady Glencora
had come to her, and she was fully minded that if she could bear the
full light of the god himself in all his glory, she would not allow
herself to be scorched by any reflected heat coming from the god’s
niece. She thought she could endure anything that Lady Glencora might
say; but she would wait and hear what might be said.
“I think, Madame Goesler, that I had better hurry on to my subject
at once,” said Lady Glencora, almost hesitating as she spoke, and
feeling that the colour was rushing up to her cheeks and covering her
brow. “Of course what I have to say will be disagreeable. Of course I
shall offend you. And yet I do not mean it.”
“I shall be offended at nothing, Lady Glencora, unless I think that
you mean to offend me.”
“I protest that I do not. You have seen my little boy.”
“Yes, indeed. The sweetest child! God never gave me anything half so
precious as that.”
“He is the Duke’s heir.”
“So I understand.”
“For myself, by my honour as a woman, I care nothing. I am rich and
have all that the world can give me. For my husband, in this matter,
I care nothing. His career he will make for himself, and it will
depend on no title.”
“Why all this to me, Lady Glencora? What have I to do with your
husband’s titles?”
“Much;--if it be true that there is an idea of marriage between you
and the Duke of Omnium.”
“Psha!” said Madame Goesler, with all the scorn of which she was
mistress.
“It is untrue, then?” asked Lady Glencora.
“No;--it is not untrue. There is an idea of such a marriage.”
“And you are engaged to him?”
“No;--I am not engaged to him.”
“Has he asked you?”
“Lady Glencora, I really must say that such a cross-questioning
from one lady to another is very unusual. I have promised not to be
offended, unless I thought that you wished to offend me. But do not
drive me too far.”
“Madame Goesler, if you will tell me that I am mistaken, I will beg
your pardon, and offer to you the most sincere friendship which one
woman can give another.”
“Lady Glencora, I can tell you nothing of the kind.”
“Then it is to be so! And have you thought what you would gain?”
“I have thought much of what I should gain:--and something also of
what I should lose.”
“You have money.”
“Yes, indeed; plenty,--for wants so moderate as mine.”
“And position.”
“Well, yes; a sort of position. Not such as yours, Lady Glencora.
That, if it be not born to a woman, can only come to her from a
husband. She cannot win it for herself.”
“You are free as air, going where you like, and doing what you like.”
“Too free, sometimes,” said Madame Goesler.
“And what will you gain by changing all this simply for a title?”
“But for such a title, Lady Glencora! It may be little to you to be
Duchess of Omnium, but think what it must be to me!”
“And for this you will not hesitate to rob him of all his friends, to
embitter his future life, to degrade him among his peers,--”
“Degrade him! Who dares say that I shall degrade him? He will exalt
me, but I shall no whit degrade him. You forget yourself, Lady
Glencora.”
“Ask any one. It is not that I despise you. If I did, would I offer
you my hand in friendship? But an old man, over seventy, carrying the
weight and burden of such rank as his, will degrade himself in the
eyes of his fellows, if he marries a young woman without rank, let
her be ever so clever, ever so beautiful. A Duke of Omnium may not do
as he pleases, as may another man.”
“It may be well, Lady Glencora, for other dukes, and for the
daughters and heirs and cousins of other dukes, that his Grace should
try that question. I will, if you wish it, argue this matter with you
on many points, but I will not allow you to say that I should degrade
any man whom I might marry. My name is as unstained as your own.”
“I meant nothing of that,” said Lady Glencora.
“For him;--I certainly would not willingly injure him. Who wishes
to injure a friend? And, in truth, I have so little to gain, that
the temptation to do him an injury, if I thought it one, is not
strong. For your little boy, Lady Glencora, I think your fears are
premature.” As she said this, there came a smile over her face, which
threatened to break from control and almost become laughter. “But, if
you will allow me to say so, my mind will not be turned against this
marriage half so strongly by any arguments you can use as by those
which I can adduce myself. You have nearly driven me into it by
telling me I should degrade his house. It is almost incumbent on me
to prove that you are wrong. But you had better leave me to settle
the matter in my own bosom. You had indeed.”
After a while Lady Glencora did leave her,--to settle the matter
within her own bosom,--having no other alternative.