What has become all this time of the Falconer family?
Since the marriage of Miss Falconer with Sir Robert Percy, all
intercourse between the Falconers and our branch of the Percy family had
ceased; but one morning, when Alfred was alone, intently considering his
father’s case, and the legal difficulties which threatened him, he was
surprised by a visit from Commissioner Falconer. The commissioner looked
thin, pale, and wretched. He began by condoling with Alfred on their
mutual family misfortunes. Alfred received this condolence with
politeness, but with a proud consciousness that, notwithstanding his
father’s present difficulties, and the total loss of fortune with which
he was threatened, neither his father, nor any individual in his
family, would change places with any one of the Falconers; since nothing
dishonourable could be imputed to Mr. Percy, and since none of his
misfortunes had been occasioned by any imprudence of his own.
A deep sigh from the commissioner, at the moment these thoughts were
passing in Alfred’s mind, excited his compassion, for he perceived that
the same reflections had occurred to him.
After taking an immoderate quantity of snuff, the commissioner went on,
and disclaimed, in strong terms, all knowledge of his son-in-law Sir
Robert’s cruel conduct to his cousin. The commissioner said that Sir
Robert Percy had, since his marriage with Bell Falconer, behaved
very ill, and had made his wife show great ingratitude to her own
family--that in Mrs. Falconer’s distress, when she and Georgiana
were most anxious to retire from town for a short time, and when Mrs.
Falconer had naturally looked to the house of her married daughter as a
sure asylum, the doors of Percy-hall had been actually shut against her;
Sir Robert declaring, that he would not be involved in the difficulties
and disgrace of a family who had taken him in to marry a girl without
any fortune.
Alfred was perfectly convinced, both from the cordial hatred with which
the commissioner now spoke of his son-in-law, and from Mr. Falconer’s
disposition, that he had nothing to do with the cruel measures which
Sir Robert had taken against his father. Commissioner Falconer was not
a malevolent, but a weak man--incapable of being a disinterested
friend--equally incapable of becoming a malicious enemy. The
commissioner now proceeded to his own affairs, and to the business of
his visit. He said that he had been disappointed in all his hopes from
the Greenwich party--that when _that sad business of Mrs. Falconer’s
came out_, they had seized this as a pretence for _dropping_ him
altogether--that when they had, by Lord Oldborough’s retreat from
office, obtained every thing they wanted, and had no more occasion for
assistance or information, they had shamefully forgotten, or disowned,
all their former promises to Cunningham. They had refused to accredit
him at the court of Denmark, refused even to defray the expenses of his
journey thither, which, in the style he had thought it necessary for an
ambassador to travel in, had been considerable. Upon the hopes held out,
he had taken a splendid house in Copenhagen, and had every day, for some
weeks, been in expectation of the arrival of his credentials. When it
was publicly known that another ambassador was appointed, Cunningham’s
creditors became clamorous; he contrived to escape from Copenhagen in
the night, and was proceeding _incog._ in his journey homewards, when he
was stopped at one of the small frontier towns, and was there actually
detained in prison for his debts.
The poor commissioner produced his son’s letter, giving an account
of his detention, and stating that, unless the money he had raised in
Copenhagen was paid, there was no hope of his being liberated--he must
perish in a foreign jail.
We spare the reader the just reproaches which the unhappy father, at
this moment, uttered against the son’s duplicity. It was his fate, he
said, to be ruined by those for whom he had been labouring and planning,
night and day, for so many years. “And now,” concluded Mr. Falconer,
“here am I, reduced to sell almost the last acre of my paternal
estate--I shall literally have nothing left but Falconer-court, and
my annuity!--Nothing!--But it must be done, ill as he has used me, and
impossible as it is, ever, even at this crisis, to get the truth from
him--I must pay the money: he is in jail, and cannot be liberated
without this sum. I have here, you see, under the hand of the chief
magistrate, sufficient proof--I will not, however, trouble you, my dear
sir, with showing more of these letters--only it is a comfort to me to
speak to one who will listen with some sympathy--Ah! sir, when out of
place!--out of favour!--selling one’s estate!--how people change!--But I
am taking up your time. Since these lands are to be sold, the sooner the
better. Your father, you know, is trustee to my marriage-settlements,
and, I believe, his consent, his signature, will be necessary--will it
not?--I am no lawyer--I really am not clear what _is_ necessary--and my
solicitor, Mr. Sharpe, I have dismissed: perhaps you will allow me to
put the business into your hands?”
Alfred undertook it, and kindly told the commissioner that if he would
send him his papers, he would, without putting him to any expense, look
them over carefully--have all the necessary releases drawn--and make his
title clear to any purchaser who should apply.
The commissioner was full of gratitude for this friendly offer, and
immediately begged that he might leave his title-deeds. Accordingly
the servant was desired to bring in the box which he had left in the
carriage. The commissioner then rose to take leave, but Alfred begged he
would stay till he had written a list of the deeds, as he made it a rule
never to take charge of any papers, without giving a receipt for them.
The commissioner thought this “a superfluous delicacy between friends
and relatives;” but Alfred observed that relations would, perhaps,
oftener continue friends, if in matters of business, they took care
always to be as exact as if they were strangers.
The commissioner looked at his watch--said he was in haste--he was going
to wait upon Lord Somebody, from whom, in spite of all his experience,
he expected something.
“You will find a list of the deeds, I have a notion,” said he, “in the
box, Mr. Alfred Percy, and you need only sign it--that will be quite
sufficient.”
“When I have compared the papers with the list, I will sign it,” said
Alfred: “my clerk and I will do it as quickly as possible. Believe me,
you cannot be in greater haste than I am.”
The commissioner, secretly cursing Alfred’s accuracy, and muttering
something of the necessity for his own punctuality, was obliged to
submit. He sat down--the clerk was sent for--the box was opened.
The list of the papers was, as Alfred found, drawn out by Buckhurst
Falconer; and the commissioner now recollected the time. “Just when poor
Buckhurst,” said the father, with a sigh, “was arguing with me against
going into the church--at that time. I remember, he was desperately in
love with your sister Caroline.”
“Why, in truth,” said Alfred, smiling, as he read over the scrawled
list, “this looks a little as if it were written by a man in
love--here’s another reason for our comparing the papers and the list.”
“Well, well, I took it all upon trust--I am no lawyer--I never looked
at them--never opened the box, and am very sorry to be obliged to do it
now.”
The essential care, either of papers or estate, the commissioner had
evermore neglected, while he had all his life been castle-building, or
pursuing some phantom of fortune at court. Whilst Alfred was comparing
the papers and the list, the commissioner went on talking of the
marriage of Caroline with Count Altenberg, asking when they expected
them to return. It was possible that Count Altenberg might be moved to
make some remonstrance in favour of Cunningham; and a word or two from
him to the Duke of Greenwich would do the business. The commissioner
longed to hint this to Alfred, but he was so intent upon these bundles
of parchment, that till every one of them was counted, it would be in
vain to make that attempt: so the commissioner impatiently stood by,
while the clerk went on calling over the papers, and Alfred, in equal
strains, replying. “Thank Heaven!” said he to himself, “they have got to
the last bundle.”
“Bundle eighteen,” cried the clerk.
“Bundle eighteen,” replied Alfred. “How many numbers does it contain?”
“Six,” said the clerk.
“Six!--no, seven, if you please,” said Alfred.
“But six in the list, sir.”
“I will read them over,” said Alfred. “No. 1. Deed of assignment to
Filmer Griffin, Esq. No. 2. Deed of mortgage to Margaret Simpson, widow.
No. 3. Deed of lease and release. No. 4. Lease for a year--”
“No. 4. no such thing--stop, sir--Deed!”
Alfred gave one look at the paper, and starting up, snatched it from the
hands of his clerk, with an exclamation of joy, signed the receipt for
the commissioner, put it into his hands, locked the box, and sat down to
write a letter, all with such rapidity that the commissioner was struck
with astonishment and curiosity. Notwithstanding all his impatience to
be punctual to his own engagement, he now stood fixed to the spot,
and at last began with “My dear Mr. Alfred Percy, may I ask what has
happened?”
“My dear commissioner, I have found it--I have found it--the long-lost
deed, and I am writing to my father, to tell him. Excuse me--excuse me
if I am not able to explain farther at this moment.”
The commissioner understood it all too quickly. He saw how it had
happened through Buckhurst’s carelessness. At the time Buckhurst had
been packing up these papers, some of Mr. Percy’s had been lying on the
table--Buckhurst had been charged not to mix them with his father’s; but
he was in love, and did not know what he was doing.
The commissioner began three sentences, and left them all unfinished,
while Alfred did not hear one word of them: the first was an apology for
Buckhurst, the second a congratulation for his good cousin Percy, the
third was an exclamation that came from his heart. “Good Heavens! but
what will become of my daughter Bell and Sir Robert? I do not comprehend
quite, my dear sir.”
Perceiving that he was not heard by Alfred, the commissioner took up
his hat and departed, determining that he would inquire farther from Sir
Robert’s solicitor concerning the probable consequences of the recovery
of this deed.
Alfred had no sooner finished his joyful letter to his father than he
wrote to Sir Robert Percy, informing him of the recovery of the deed,
and letting him know that he was ready to show it to whomsoever Sir
Robert would send to his house to examine it. He made this offer to put
an end at once to all doubts. He trusted, he said, that when Sir Robert
should be satisfied of the existence and identity of the deed, he would
stop his present proceedings for the recovery of the _mesne rents_, and
that he would, without obliging his father to have farther recourse to
law, restore to him the Percy estate.
To this letter no answer was received for some time. At length Mr.
Sharpe called on Alfred, and begged to see the deed. He was permitted
to examine it in Alfred’s presence. He noted down the date, names of
the witnesses, and some other particulars, of which, he observed, it was
necessary he should inform Sir Robert, before he could be satisfied as
to the identity of the conveyance. Sharpe was particularly close and
guarded in his looks and words during this interview; would neither
admit nor deny that he was satisfied, and went away leaving nothing
certain, but that he would write to Sir Robert. Alfred thought he saw
that they meant to avoid giving an answer, in order to keep possession
some months longer, till another term. He took all the necessary steps
to bring the matter to trial immediately, without waiting for any answer
from Sir Robert. No letter came from him, but Alfred received from his
solicitor the following note:
“Sir,
“I am directed by Sir Robert Percy to acquaint you, in reply to yours of
the 20th instant, that conceiving his title to the Percy estate to be
no way affected by the instrument to which you allude therein, he cannot
withdraw his present suit for the _mesne rents_ that had been already
received, if you proceed in an ejectment for the recovery of the
aforesaid estate.
“I am, sir,
“Your humble servant,
“A. Sharpe.
“_Wednesday._”
Alfred was surprised and alarmed by this letter. It had never occurred
to him as possible, that Sir Robert and his counsel would attempt to
stand a new trial in the face of this recovered deed; this was beyond
all he could have conceived even from their effrontery and villany. He
consulted Mr. Friend, who, after considering Sharpe’s letter, could
not devise what defence they intended to make, as the deed, upon most
accurate examination, appeared duly executed, according to the provision
of the statute of frauds. Upon the whole, Mr. Friend was of opinion that
the letter was meant merely to alarm the plaintiffs, and to bring
them to offer or consent to a compromise. In this opinion Alfred was
confirmed the next day, by an interview with Sharpe, accidental on
Alfred’s part, but designed and prepared by the solicitor, who watched
Alfred as he was coming out of the courts, and dogged him till he parted
from some gentlemen with whom he was walking--then joining him, he said,
in a voice which Mr. Allscrip might have envied for its power of setting
sense at defiance, “I am happy, Mr. Alfred Percy, to chance to see you
to-day; for, with a view to put an end to litigation and difficulties, I
had a few words to suggest--premising that I do not act or speak now, in
any wise, as or for Sir Robert Percy, or with reference to his being my
client, or as a solicitor in this cause, be it understood, but merely
and solely as one gentleman to another, upon honour--and not bringing
forward any idea to be taken advantage of hereafter, as tending to any
thing in the shape of an offer to compromise, which, in a legal point of
view, you know, sir, I could not be warranted to hazard for my client,
and of consequence, which I hereby declare, I do not in any degree
mean.”
“Would you be so good, Mr. Sharpe, to state at once what you do mean?
for I confess I do not, in any degree, understand you.”
“Why, then, sir, what I mean is, simply, and candidly, and frankly,
this: that if I could, without compromising the interest of my client,
which, as an honest man, I am bound not to do or appear to do, I should
wish to put an end to this litigation between relations; and though your
father thinks me his enemy, would convince him to the contrary, if
he would allow me, and could point out the means of shortening this
difference between relations, which has occasioned so much scandal; and
moreover, could devise an accommodation, which might be agreeable
to both parties, and save you a vast deal of trouble and vexation;
possession,” added he, laughing, “being nine points of the law.”
Mr. Sharpe paused, as if hoping that something would now be said by
Alfred, that might direct him whether to advance or recede; but Alfred
only observed, that probably the end Mr. Sharpe proposed to himself by
speaking was to make himself understood, and that this desirable end he
had not yet attained.
“Why, sir, in some cases, one cannot venture to make one’s self
understood any way, but by inuendoes.”
“Then, good morning to you, sir--you and I can never understand one
another.”
“Pardon me, sir, unless you are in a hurry,” cried Mr. Sharpe, catching
Alfred by the button, “which (when so large an estate, to which you
might eventually succeed, is in question) you are too much a man of
business to be--in one word, then, for I won’t detain you another
moment, and I throw myself open, and trust to your honour--”
“You do me honour.”
“Put a parallel case. You, plaintiff A----, I, defendant B----. I
should, if I were A----, but no way advising it, being B----, offer to
divide the whole property, the claim for the _mesne rents_ being wholly
given up; and that the offer would be accepted, I’d engage upon my
honour, supposing myself witnessing the transaction, only just as a
gentleman.”
“Impossible, sir,” cried Alfred, with indignation. “Do you take me for a
fool? Do you think I would give up half my father’s estate, knowing that
he has a right to the whole?”
“Pardon me, sir--I only suggested an A. B. case. But one word more,
sir,” cried Mr. Sharpe, holding Alfred, who was breaking from him, “for
your own--your father’s interest: you see this thing quite in a wrong
point of view; when you talk of a few months’ more or less delay of
getting possession, being all there is between us--depend upon it, if it
goes to trial you will never get possession.”
“Then, sir, if you think so, you are betraying the interest of your
client, in advising me not to let it go to trial.”
“Good God! sir: but that is between you and me only.”
“Pardon me, sir, it is between you and your conscience.”
“Oh! if that’s all--my conscience is at ease, when I’m trying to prevent
the scandal of litigation between relations: therefore, just let me
mention to you for your private information, what I know Sir Robert
would not wish to come out before the trial.”
“Don’t tell it to me, sir--I will not hear it,” cried Alfred, breaking
from him, and walking on very fast.
Faster still Sharpe pursued. “You’ll remember, sir, at all events, that
what has been said is not to go further--you’ll not forget.”
“I shall never forget that I am a man of honour, sir,” said Alfred.
Sharpe parted from him, muttering, “that if he lived to the day of
trial, he would repent this.”
“And if I live till the day of judgment, I shall never repent it,”
thought Alfred.
Now fully convinced that Sir Robert desired a compromise, and wanted
only to secure, while in possession, some portion of that property,
which he knew the law would ultimately force him to relinquish, Alfred
persevered in his course, relieved from the alarm into which he had at
first been thrown, when he learned that his opponents intended to make
a defence. Alfred felt assured that they would never let the matter
come to trial; but time passed on, and they still persisted. Many of
his brother lawyers were not only doubtful, but more inclined to despond
than to encourage him as to the event of the trial; several regretted
that he had not accepted of Mr. Sharpe’s offered compromise. “Half the
estate certain, and his father’s release from all difficulties, they
thought too good offers to have been rejected. He might, as Sharpe had
prophesied, have to repent his rejection of that proposal.”
Others observed, that though Mr. Alfred Percy was certainly a young man
of great talents, and had been successful at the bar, still he was a
young lawyer; and it was a bold and hazardous, not to say rash thing,
to take upon himself the conduct of a suit against such opponents as Mr.
Sharpe and Sir Robert Percy, practised in law, hardened in iniquity, and
now driven to desperation.
Mr. Friend was the only man who stood steadily by Alfred, and never
wavered in his opinion. “Trust to truth and justice,” said he; “you
did right not to compromise--be firm. If you fail, you will have
this consolation--you will have done all that man could do to deserve
success.”
The day of trial approached. Mr. Friend had hoped, till very late in the
business, that the object of their adversaries was only to intimidate,
and that they would never let it go to trial: now it was plain they
would. But on what grounds? Again and again Mr. Friend and Alfred
perused and reperused Sir John Percy’s deed, and examined the opinions
of counsel of the first eminence. Both law and right appeared to be
clearly on their side; but it was not likely that their experienced
opponents should persist without having some strong resource.
A dread silence was preserved by Sir Robert Percy and by Mr. Solicitor
Sharpe. They must have some deep design: what it could be, remained to
be discovered even till the day of trial.