ULYSSES.
October was ending drearily with north-east winds, dust, drifting dead
leaves, and a steel-grey sky; and the Dolphin Hotel at Southampton was
glorified by the presence of Lady Maulevrier and suite. Her ladyship's
suite was on this occasion limited to three servants--her French maid, a
footman, and a kind of factotum, a man of no distinct and arbitrary
signification in her ladyship's household, neither butler nor steward,
but that privileged being, an old and trusted servant, and a person who
was supposed to enjoy more of Lady Maulevrier's confidence than any
other member of her establishment.
This James Steadman had been valet to her ladyship's father, Lord
Peverill, during the declining years of that nobleman. The narrow limits
of a sick room had brought the master and servant into a closer
companionship than is common to that relation. Lady Diana Angersthorpe
was a devoted daughter, and in her attendance upon the Earl during the
last three years of his life--a life which closed more than a year
before her own marriage--she saw a great deal of James Steadman, and
learned to trust him as servants are not often trusted. He was not more
than twenty years of age at the beginning of his service, but he was a
man of extraordinary gravity, much in advance of his years; a man of
shrewd common-sense and clear, sharp intellect. Not a reading man, or a
man in any way superior to his station and belongings, but a man who
could think quickly, and understand quickly, and who always seemed to
think rightly. Prompt in action, yet steady as a rock, and to all
appearance recognising no earthly interest, no human tie, beyond or
above the interests of his master. As a nurse Steadman showed himself
invaluable. Lord Peverill left him a hundred pounds in acknowledgment of
his services, which was something for Lord Peverill, who had very little
ready cash wherewith to endow his only daughter. After his death the
title and the estates went to a distant cousin; Lady Diana Angersthorpe
was taken in hand by her aunt, the Dowager Marchioness of Carrisbrook;
and James Steadman would have had to find employment among strangers, if
Lady Diana had not pleaded so urgently with her aunt as to secure him a
somewhat insignificant post in her ladyship's establishment.
'If ever I have a house of my own, you shall have a better place in it,
Steadman,' said Lady Diana.
She kept her word, and on her marriage with Lord Maulevrier, which
happened about eighteen months afterwards, Steadman passed into that
nobleman's service. He was a member of her ladyship's bodyguard, and his
employment seemed to consist chiefly in poking fires, cutting the leaves
of books and newspapers, superintending the footman's attendance upon
her ladyship's household pets, and conveying her sentiments to the other
servants. He was in a manner Lady Maulevrier's mouthpiece, and although
treated with a respect that verged upon awe, he was not a favourite with
the household.
And now the house in Mayfair was given over to the charge of caretakers.
All the other servants had been despatched by coach to her ladyship's
favourite retreat in Westmoreland, within a few miles of the Laureate's
home at Rydal Mount, and James Steadman was charged with the whole
responsibility of her ladyship's travelling arrangements.
Penelope had come to Southampton to wait for Ulysses, whose ship had
been due for more than a week, and whose white sails might be expected
above the horizon at any moment. James Steadman spent a good deal of his
time waiting about at the docks for the earliest news of Greene's ship,
the _Hypermnestra_; while Lady Maulevrier waited patiently in her
sitting-room at the Dolphin, whose three long French windows commanded a
full view of the High Street, with all those various distractions
afforded by the chief thoroughfare of a provincial town. Her ladyship
was provided with a large box of books, from Ebers' in Bond Street, a
basket of fancy work, and her favourite Blenheim spaniel, Lalla Rookh;
but even these sources of amusement did not prevent the involuntary
expression of weariness in occasional yawns, and frequent pacings up and
down the room, where the formal hotel furniture had a comfortless and
chilly look.
Fellside, her ladyship's place in Westmoreland, was the pleasure house
which, among all her possessions, she most valued; but it had hitherto
been reserved for summer occupation, or for perhaps two or three weeks
at Easter, when the spring was exceptionally fine. The sudden
determination to spend the coming winter in the house near Grasmere was
considered a curious freak of Lady Maulevrier's, and she was constrained
to explain her motives to her friends.
'His lordship is out of health,' she said, 'and wants perfect rest and
retirement. Now, Fellside is the only place we have in which he is
likely to get perfect rest. Anywhere else we should have to entertain.
Fellside is out of the world. There is no one to be entertained.'
'Except your neighbour, Wordsworth. I suppose you see him sometimes?'
'Dear simple-minded old soul, he gives nobody any trouble,' said her
ladyship.
'But is not Westmoreland very cold in winter?' asked her friend.
Lady Maulevrier smiled benignly, as at an inoffensive ignorance.
'So sheltered,' she murmured. 'We are at the base of the Fell. Loughrigg
rises up like a cyclopean wall between us and the wind.'
'But when the wind is in the other direction?'
'We have Nabb Scar. You do not know how we are girdled and defended by
hills.'
'Very pleasant,' agreed the friend; 'but for my own part I would rather
winter in the south.'
Those terrible rumours which had first come upon the world of London
last June, had been growing darker and more defined ever since, but
still Lady Maulevrier made believe to ignore them; and she acted her
part of unconsciousness with such consummate skill that nobody in her
circle could be sure where the acting began and where the ignorance left
off. The astute Lord Denyer declared that she was a wonderful woman, and
knew more about the real state of the case than anybody else.
Meanwhile it was said by those who were supposed to be well-informed
that a mass of evidence was accumulating against Lord Maulevrier. The
India House, it was rumoured, was busy with the secret investigation of
his case, prior to that public inquiry which was to come on during the
next session. His private fortune would be made answerable for his
misdemeanours--his life, said the alarmists, might pay the penalty of
his treason. On all sides it was agreed that the case against Lord
Maulevrier was black as Erebus; and still Lady Maulevrier looked society
in the face with an unshaken courage, and was ready with smiles and
gracious words for all comers.
But now came a harder trial, which was to receive the man who had
disgraced her, lowered her pride to the dust, degraded the name she
bore. She had married him, not loving him--nay, plucking another love
out of her heart in order that she might give herself to him. She had
married him for position and fortune; and now by his follies, by his
extravagance, and by that greed of gold which is inevitable in the
spendthrift and profligate, he had gone near to cheat her out of both
name and fortune. Yet she so commanded herself as to receive him with a
friendly air when he arrived at the Dolphin, on a dull grey autumn
afternoon, after she had waited for him nearly a fortnight.
James Steadman ushered in his lordship, a frail attenuated looking
figure, of middle height, wrapped in a furred cloak, yet shivering, a
pale sickly face, light auburn whiskers, light blue eyes, full and
large, but with no intellectual power in them. Lady Maulevrier was
sitting by the fire, in a melancholy attitude, with the Blenheim spaniel
on her lap. Her son was at Hastings with his nurses. She had nothing
nearer and dearer than the spaniel.
She rose and went over to her husband, and let him kiss her. It would
have been too much to say that she kissed him; but she submitted her
lips unresistingly to his, and then they sat down on opposite sides of
the hearth.
'A wretched afternoon,' said his lordship, shivering, and drawing his
chair closer to the fire. Steadman had taken away his fur-lined cloak.
'I had really underrated the disagreeableness of the English climate. It
is abominable!'
'To-day is not a fair sample,' answered her ladyship, trying to be
cheerful; 'we have had some pleasant autumn days.'
'I detest autumn!' exclaimed Lord Maulevrier, 'a season of dead leaves,
damp, and dreariness. I should like to get away to Montpellier or Nice
as soon as we can.'
Her ladyship gave him a scathing look, half-scornful, half-incredulous.
'You surely would not dream of leaving the country,' she said, 'under
present circumstances. So long as you are here to answer all charges no
one will interfere with your liberty; but if you were to cross the
Channel--'
'My slanderers might insinuate that I was running away,' interrupted
Maulevrier, 'although the very fact of my return ought to prove to every
one that I am able to meet and face this cabal.'
'Is it a cabal?' asked her ladyship, looking at him with a gaze that
searched his soul. 'Can you meet their charges? Can you live down this
hideous accusation, and hold up your head as a man of honour?'
The sensualist's blue eyes nervously shunned that look of earnest
interrogation. His lips answered the wife's spoken question with a lie,
a lie made manifest by the expression of his countenance.
'I am not afraid,' he said.
His wife answered not a word. She was assured that the charges were
true, and that the battered rake who shivered over the fire had neither
courage nor ability to face his accusers. She saw the whole fabric of
her life in ruins, her son the penniless successor to a tarnished name.
There was silence for some minutes. Lady Maulevrier sat with lowered
eyelids looking at the fire, deep in painful thought. Two perpendicular
wrinkles upon her broad white forehead--so calm, so unclouded in
society--told of gnawing cares. Then she stole a look at her husband,
as he reclined in his arm-chair, his head lying back against the
cushions in listless repose, his eyes looking vacantly at the window,
whence he could see only the rain-blurred fronts of opposite houses,
blank, dull windows, grey slated roofs, against a leaden sky.
He had been a handsome man, and he was handsome still, albeit premature
decay, the result of an evil life, was distinctly marked in his faded
face. The dull, yellow tint of the complexion, the tarnished dimness of
the large blue eyes, the discontented droop of the lips, the languor of
the attitude, the pallid transparency of the wasted hands, all told of a
life worn threadbare, energies exhausted, chances thrown away, a mind
abandoned to despair.
'You look very ill,' said his wife, after that long blank interval,
which marked so unnatural an apathy between husband and wife meeting
after so long a severance.
'I am very ill. I have been worried to death--surrounded by rogues and
liars--the victim of a most infernal conspiracy.' He spoke hurriedly,
growing whiter and more tremulous as he went on.
'Don't talk about it. You agitate yourself to no purpose,' said Lady
Maulevrier, with a tranquillity which seemed heartless yet which might
be the result of suppressed feeling. 'If you are to face this scandal
firmly and boldly next January, you must try to recover physical
strength in the meanwhile. Mental energy may come with better health.'
'I shall never be any better,' said Lord Maulevrier, testily; 'that
infernal climate has shattered my constitution.'
'Two or three months of perfect rest and good nursing will make a new
man of you. I have arranged that we shall go straight from here to
Fellside. No one can plague you there with that disguised impertinence
called sympathy. You can give all your thoughts to the ordeal before
you, and be ready to meet your accusers. Fortunately, you have no Burke
against you.'
'Fellside? You think of going to Fellside?'
'Yes. You know how fond I am of that place. I little thought when you
settled it upon me--a cottage in Westmoreland with fifty acres of garden
and meadow--so utterly insignificant--that I should ever like it better
than any of your places.'
'A charming retreat in summer; but we have never wintered there? What
put it into your head to go there at such a season as this? Why, I
daresay the snow is on the tops of the hills already.'
'It is the only place I know where you will not be watched and talked
about,' replied Lady Maulevrier. 'You will be out of the eye of the
world. I should think that consideration would weigh more with you than
two or three degrees of the thermometer.'
'I detest cold,' said the Earl, 'and in my weak health----'
'We will take care of you,' answered her ladyship; and in the discussion
which followed she bore herself so firmly that her husband was fain to
give way.
How could a disgraced and ruined man, broken in health and spirits,
contest the mere details of life with a high-spirited woman ten years
his junior?
The Earl wanted to go to London, and remain there at least a week, but
this her ladyship strenuously opposed. He must see his lawyer, he urged;
there were steps to be taken which could be taken only under legal
advice--counsel to be retained. If this lying invention of Satan were
really destined to take the form of a public trial, he must be prepared
to fight his foes on their own ground.
'You can make all your preparations at Fellside,' answered his wife,
resolutely. 'I have seen Messrs. Rigby and Rider, and your own
particular ally, Rigby, will go to you at Fellside whenever you want
him.'
'That is not like my being on the spot,' said his lordship, nervously,
evidently much disconcerted by her ladyship's firmness, but too feeble
in mind and body for a prolonged contest.
'I ought to be on the spot. I am not without influence; I have friends,
men in power.'
'Surely you are not going to appeal to friendship in order to vindicate
your honour. These charges are true or false. If they are false your own
manhood, your own rectitude, can face them and trample upon them,
unaided by back-stairs influence. If they are true, no one can help
you.'
'I think you, at least, ought to know that they are as false as hell,'
retorted the Earl, with an attempt to maintain his dignity.
'I have acted as if I so believed,' replied his wife. 'I have lived as
if there were no such slanders in the air. I have steadily ignored every
report, every insinuation--have held my head as high as if I knew you
were immaculate.'
'I expected as much from you,' answered the Earl, coolly. 'If I had not
known you were a woman of sense I should not have married you.'
This was his utmost expression of gratitude. His next remarks had
reference solely to his own comfort. Where were his rooms? at what hour
were they to dine? And hereupon he rang for his valet, a German Swiss,
and a servant out of a thousand.