Park Lane
From the beginning of the affair Tregear had found the necessity
of bolstering himself up inwardly in his great attempt by mottoes,
proverbs, and instigations to courage addressed to himself. "None but
the brave deserve the fair." "De l'audace, et encore de l'audace, et
toujours de l'audace." He was a man naturally of good heart in such
matters, who was not afraid of his brother-men, nor yet of women,
his sisters. But in this affair he knew very much persistence would
be required of him, and that even with such persistence he might
probably fail, unless he should find a more than ordinary constancy
in the girl. That the Duke could not eat him, indeed that nobody
could eat him as long as he carried himself as an honest man and a
gentleman, was to him an inward assurance on which he leaned much.
And yet he was conscious, almost with a feeling of shame, that in
Italy he had not spoken to the Duke about his daughter because he was
afraid lest the Duke might eat him. In such an affair he should have
been careful from the first to keep his own hands thoroughly clean.
Had it not been his duty as a gentleman to communicate with the
father, if not before he gained the girl's heart, at any rate as soon
as he knew he had done so? He had left Italy thinking that he would
certainly meet the Duchess and her daughter in London, and that then
he might go to the Duke as though this love of his had arisen from
the sweetness of those meetings in London. But all these ideas had
been dissipated by the great misfortune of the death of Lady Mary's
mother. From all this he was driven to acknowledge to himself that
his silence in Italy had been wrong, that he had been weak in
allowing himself to be guided by the counsel of the Duchess, and that
he had already armed the Duke with one strong argument against him.
He did not doubt but that Mrs. Finn would be opposed to him. Of
course he could not doubt but that all the world would now be opposed
to him,--except the girl herself. He would find no other friend so
generous, so romantic, so unworldly as the Duchess had been. It was
clear to him that Lady Mary had told the story of her engagement to
Mrs. Finn, and that Mrs. Finn had not as yet told it to the Duke.
From this he was justified in regarding Mrs. Finn as the girl's
friend. The request made was that he should at once do something
which Mrs. Finn was to suggest. He could hardly have been so
requested, and that in terms of such warm affection, had it been Mrs.
Finn's intention to ask him to desist altogether from his courtship.
This woman was regarded by Lady Mary as her mother's dearest friend.
It was therefore incumbent on him now to induce her to believe in him
as the Duchess had believed.
He knocked at the door of Mrs. Finn's little house in Park Lane a
few minutes before the time appointed, and found himself alone when
he was shown into the drawing-room. He had heard much of this lady
though he had never seen her, and had heard much also of her husband.
There had been a kind of mystery about her. People did not quite
understand how it was that she had been so intimate with the Duchess,
nor why the late Duke had left to her an enormous legacy, which as
yet had never been claimed. There was supposed, too, to have been
something especially romantic in her marriage with her present
husband. It was believed also that she was very rich. The rumours of
all these things together had made her a person of note, and Tregear,
when he found himself alone in the drawing-room, looked round about
him as though a special interest was to be attached to the belongings
of such a woman. It was a pretty room, somewhat dark, because the
curtains were almost closed across the windows, but furnished with
a pretty taste, and now, in these early April days, filled with
flowers.
"I have to apologise, Mr. Tregear, for keeping you waiting," she said
as she entered the room.
"I fear I was before my time."
"I know that I am after mine,--a few minutes," said the lady.
He told himself that though she was not a young woman, yet she was
attractive. She was dark, and still wore her black hair in curls,
such as are now seldom seen with ladies. Perhaps the reduced light of
the chamber had been regulated with some regard to her complexion and
to her age. The effect, however, was good, and Frank Tregear felt at
once interested in her.
"You have just come up from Matching?" he said.
"Yes; only the day before yesterday. It is very good of you to come
to me so soon."
"Of course I came when you sent for me. I am afraid the Duke felt his
loss severely."
"How should he not, such a loss as it was? Few people knew how much
he trusted her, and how dearly he loved her."
"Silverbridge has told me that he is awfully cut up."
"You have seen Lord Silverbridge then?"
"Just at present I am living with him, at Carlton Terrace."
"In the Duke's house?" she asked, with some surprise.
"Yes; in the Duke's house. Silverbridge and I have been very
intimate. Of course the Duke knows that I am there. Is there any
chance of his coming to town?"
"Not yet, I fear. He is determined to be alone. I wish it were
otherwise, as I am sure he would better bear his sorrow, if he would
go about among other men."
"No doubt he would suffer less," said Tregear. Then there was a
pause. Each wished that the other should introduce the matter which
both knew was to be the subject of their conversation. But Tregear
would not begin. "When I left them all at Florence," he said, "I
little thought that I should never see her again."
"You had been intimate with them, Mr. Tregear?"
"Yes; I think I may say I have been intimate with them. I had been at
Eton and at Christ Church with Silverbridge, and we have always been
much together."
"I have understood that. Have you and the Duke been good friends?"
"We have never been enemies."
"I suppose not that."
"The Duke, I think, does not much care about young people. I hardly
know what he used to do with himself. When I dined with them, I saw
him, but I did not often do that. I think he used to read a good
deal, and walk about alone. We were always riding."
"Lady Mary used to ride?"
"Oh yes; and Lord Silverbridge and Lord Gerald. And the Duchess used
to drive. One of us would always be with her."
"And so you became intimate with the whole family?"
"So I became intimate with the whole family."
"And especially so with Lady Mary?" This she said in her sweetest
possible tone, and with a most gracious smile.
"Especially so with Lady Mary," he replied.
"It will be very good of you, Mr. Tregear, if you endure and forgive
all this cross-questioning from me, who am a perfect stranger to
you."
"But you are not a perfect stranger to her."
"That is it, of course. Now, if you will allow me, I will explain to
you exactly what my footing with her is. When the Duchess returned,
and when I found her to be so ill as she passed through London, I
went down with her into the country,--quite as a matter of course."
"So I understand."
"And there she died,--in my arms. I will not try to harass you by
telling you what those few days were; how absolutely he was struck to
the ground, how terrible was the grief of the daughter, how the boys
were astonished by the feeling of their loss. After a few days they
went away. It was, I think, their father's wish that they should go.
And I too was going away,--and had felt, indeed, directly her spirit
had parted from her, that I was only in the way in his house. But I
stayed at his request, because he did not wish his daughter to be
alone."
"I can easily understand that, Mrs. Finn."
"I wanted her to go to Lady Cantrip who had invited her, but she
would not. In that way we were thrown together in the closest
intercourse, for two or three weeks. Then she told me the story of
your engagement."
"That was natural, I suppose."
"Surely so. Think of her position, left as she is without a mother!
It was incumbent on her to tell someone. There was, however, one
other person in whom it would have been much better that she should
have confided."
"What person?"
"Her father."
"I rather fancy that it is I who ought to tell him."
"As far as I understand these things, Mr. Tregear,--which, indeed, is
very imperfectly,--I think it is natural that a girl should at once
tell her mother when a gentleman has made her understand that he
loves her."
"She did so, Mrs. Finn."
"And I suppose that generally the mother would tell the father."
"She did not."
"No; and therefore the position of the young lady is now one of great
embarrassment. The Duchess has gone from us, and we must now make up
our minds as to what had better be done. It is out of the question
that Lady Mary should be allowed to consider herself to be engaged,
and that the father should be kept in ignorance of her position." She
paused for his reply, but as he said nothing, she continued: "Either
you must tell the Duke, or she must do so, or I must do so."
"I suppose she told you in confidence."
"No doubt. She told it me presuming that I would not betray her; but
I shall,--if that be a betrayal. The Duke must know it. It will be
infinitely better that he should know it through you, or through her,
than through me. But he must be told."
"I can't quite see why," said Tregear.
"For her sake,--whom I suppose you love."
"Certainly I love her."
"In order that she may not suffer. I wonder you do not see it, Mr.
Tregear. Perhaps you have a sister."
"I have no sister as it happens."
"But you can imagine what your feelings would be. Should you like to
think of a sister as being engaged to a man without the knowledge of
any of her family?"
"It was not so. The Duchess knew it. The present condition of things
is altogether an accident."
"It is an accident that must be brought to an end."
"Of course it must be brought to an end. I am not such a fool as to
suppose that I can make her my wife without telling her father."
"I mean at once, Mr. Tregear."
"It seems to me that you are rather dictating to me, Mrs. Finn."
"I owe you an apology, of course, for meddling in your affairs at
all. But as it will be more conducive to your success that the Duke
should hear this from you than from me, and as I feel that I am bound
by my duty to him and to Lady Mary to see that he be not left in
ignorance, I think that I am doing you a service."
"I do not like to have a constraint put upon me."
"That, Mr. Tregear, is what gentlemen, I fancy, very often feel in
regard to ladies. But the constraint of which you speak is necessary
for their protection. Are you unwilling to see the Duke?"
He was very unwilling, but he would not confess so much. He gave
various reasons for delay, urging repeatedly that the question of his
marriage was one which he could not press upon the Duke so soon after
the death of the Duchess. And when she assured him that this was a
matter of importance so great, that even the death of the man's wife
should not be held by him to justify delay, he became angry, and for
awhile insisted that he must be allowed to follow his own judgment.
But he gave her a promise that he would see the Duke before a week
was over. Nevertheless he left the house in dudgeon, having told Mrs.
Finn more than once that she was taking advantage of Lady Mary's
confidence. They hardly parted as friends, and her feeling was, on
the whole, hostile to him and to his love. It could not, she thought,
be for the happiness of such a one as Lady Mary that she should give
herself to one who seemed to have so little to recommend him.
He, when he had left her, was angry with his own weakness. He had not
only promised that he would make his application to the Duke, but
that he would do so within the period of a week. Who was she that she
should exact terms from him after this fashion, and prescribe days
and hours? And now, because this strange woman had spoken to him, he
was compelled to make a journey down to the Duke's country house, and
seek an interview in which he would surely be snubbed!
This occurred on a Wednesday, and he resolved that he would go down
to Matching on the next Monday. He said nothing of his plan to any
one, and not a word passed between him and Lord Silverbridge about
Lady Mary during the first two or three days. But on the Saturday
Silverbridge appeared at breakfast with a letter in his hand. "The
governor is coming up to town," he said.
"Immediately?"
"In the course of next week. He says that he thinks he shall be here
on Wednesday."
It immediately struck Tregear that this sudden journey must have some
reference to Lady Mary and her engagement. "Do you know why he is
coming?"
"Because of these vacancies in Parliament."
"Why should that bring him up?"
"I suppose he hopes to be able to talk me into obedience. He wants me
to stand for the county--as a Liberal, of course. I intend to stand
for the borough as a Conservative, and I have told them so down
at Silverbridge. I am very sorry to annoy him, and all that kind
of thing. But what the deuce is a fellow to do? If a man has got
political convictions of his own, of course, he must stick to them."
This the young Lord said with a good deal of self-assurance, as
though he, by the light of his own reason, had ascertained on which
side the truth lay in political contests of the day.
"There is a good deal to be said on both sides of the question, my
boy." At this particular moment Tregear felt that the Duke ought to
be propitiated.
"You wouldn't have me give up my convictions!"
"A seat in Parliament is a great thing."
"I can probably secure that, whichever side I take. I thought you
were so devilish hot against the Radicals."
"So I am. But then you are, as it were, bound by family allegiance."
"I'll be shot if I am. One never knows how to understand you
nowadays. It used to be a great doctrine with you, that nothing
should induce a man to vote against his political opinions."
"So it is,--if he has really got any. However, as your father is
coming to London, I need not go down to Matching."
"You don't mean to say that you were going to Matching?"
"I had intended to beard the lion in his country den; but now the
lion will find me in his own town den, and I must beard him here."
Then Tregear wrote a most chilling note to Mrs. Finn, informing her
with great precision, that, as the Duke of Omnium intended to be in
town one day next week, he would postpone the performance of his
promise for a day or two beyond the allotted time.