"There Shall Not Be Another Word About It"
Early in October the Duke was at Matching with his daughter, and
Phineas Finn and his wife were both with them. On the day after they
parted at Ischl the first news respecting Prime Minister had reached
him,--namely, that his son's horse had lost the race. This would not
have annoyed him at all, but that the papers which he read contained
some vague charge of swindling against somebody, and hinted that Lord
Silverbridge had been a victim. Even this would not have troubled
him,--might in some sort have comforted him,--were it not made
evident to him that his son had been closely associated with
swindlers in these transactions. If it were a mere question of money,
that might be settled without difficulty. Even though the sum lost
might have grown out of what he might have expected into some few
thousands, still he would bear it without a word, if only he could
separate his boy from bad companions. Then came Mr. Moreton's letter
telling the whole.
At the meeting which took place between Silverbridge and his father's
agent at Carlton Terrace it was settled that Mr. Moreton should write
the letter. Silverbridge tried and found that he could not do it. He
did not know how to humiliate himself sufficiently, and yet could
not keep himself from making attempts to prove that according to all
recognised chances his bets had been good bets.
Mr. Moreton was better able to accomplish the task. He knew the
Duke's mind. A very large discretion had been left in Mr. Moreton's
hands in regard to moneys which might be needed on behalf of
that dangerous heir!--so large that he had been able to tell
Lord Silverbridge that if the money was in truth lost according
to Jockey Club rules, it should all be forthcoming on the
settling-day,--certainly without assistance from Messrs. Comfort and
Criball. The Duke had been nervously afraid of such men of business
as Comfort and Criball, and from the earliest days of his son's
semi-manhood had been on his guard against them. Let any sacrifice be
made so that his son might be kept clear from Comforts and Criballs.
To Mr. Moreton he had been very explicit. His own pecuniary resources
were so great that they could bear some ravaging without serious
detriment. It was for his son's character and standing in the world,
for his future respectability and dignity, that his fears were so
keen, and not for his own money. By one so excitable, so fond of
pleasure as Lord Silverbridge, some ravaging would probably be made.
Let it be met by ready money. Such had been the Duke's instructions
to his own trusted man of business, and, acting on these
instructions, Mr. Moreton was able to tell the heir that the money
should be forthcoming.
Mr. Moreton, after detailing the extent and the nature of the loss,
and the steps which he had decided upon taking, went on to explain
the circumstances as best he could. He had made some inquiry, and
felt no doubt that a gigantic swindle had been perpetrated by Major
Tifto and others. The swindle had been successful. Mr. Moreton had
consulted certain gentlemen of high character versed in affairs of
the turf. He mentioned Mr. Lupton among others,--and had been assured
that though the swindle was undoubted, the money had better be paid.
It was thought to be impossible to connect the men who had made the
bets with the perpetrators of the fraud;--and if Lord Silverbridge
were to abstain from paying his bets because his own partner had
ruined the animal which belonged to them jointly, the feeling would
be against him rather than in his favour. In fact the Jockey Club
could not sustain him in such refusal. Therefore the money would be
paid. Mr. Moreton, with some expressions of doubt, trusted that he
might be thought to have exercised a wise discretion. Then he went
on to express his own opinion in regard to the lasting effect which
the matter would have upon the young man. "I think," said he, "that
his Lordship is heartily sickened of racing, and that he will never
return to it."
The Duke was of course very wretched when these tidings first reached
him. Though he was a rich man, and of all men the least careful of
his riches, still he felt that seventy thousand pounds was a large
sum of money to throw away among a nest of swindlers. And then it was
excessively grievous to him that his son should have been mixed up
with such men. Wishing to screen his son, even from his own anger, he
was careful to remember that the promise made that Tifto should be
dismissed, was not to take effect till after this race had been run.
There had been no deceit in that. But then Silverbridge had promised
that he would not "plunge." There are, however, promises which from
their very nature may be broken without falsehood. Plunging is a
doubtful word, and the path down to it, like all doubtful paths,--is
slippery and easy! If that assurance with which Mr. Moreton ended his
letter could only be made true, he could bring himself to forgive
even this offence. The boy must be made to settle himself in life.
The Duke resolved that his only revenge should be to press on that
marriage with Mabel Grex.
At Coblenz, on their way home, the Duke and his daughter were caught
up by Mr. and Mrs. Finn, and the matter of the young man's losses
was discussed. Phineas had heard all about it, and was loud in
denunciations against Tifto, Captain Green, Gilbert Villiers, and
others whose names had reached him. The money, he thought, should
never have been paid. The Duke however declared that the money would
not cause a moment's regret, if only the whole thing could be got rid
of at that cost. It had reached Finn's ears that Tifto was already at
loggerheads with his associates. There was some hope that the whole
thing might be brought to light by this means. For all that the Duke
cared nothing. If only Silverbridge and Tifto could for the future be
kept apart, as far as he and his were concerned, good would have been
done rather than harm. While they were in this way together on the
Rhine it was decided that very soon after their return to England
Phineas and Mrs. Finn should go down to Matching.
When the Duke arrived in London his sons were not there. Gerald had
gone back to Oxford, and Silverbridge had merely left an address.
Then his sister wrote him a very short letter. "Papa will be so
glad if you will come to Matching. Do come." Of course he came, and
presented himself some few days after the Duke's arrival.
But he dreaded this meeting with his father which, however, let it be
postponed for ever so long, must come at last. In reference to this
he made a great resolution,--that he would go instantly as soon as he
might be sent for. When the summons came he started; but, though he
was by courtesy an Earl, and by fact was not only a man but a Member
of Parliament, though he was half engaged to marry one young lady and
ought to have been engaged to marry another, though he had come to an
age at which Pitt was a great minister and Pope a great poet, still
his heart was in his boots, as a schoolboy's might be, when he was
driven up to the house at Matching.
In two minutes, before he had washed the dust from his face and
hands, he was with his father. "I am glad to see you, Silverbridge,"
said the Duke, putting out his hand.
"I hope I see you well, sir."
"Fairly well. Thank you. Travelling I think agrees with me. I miss,
not my comforts, but a certain knowledge of how things are going on,
which comes to us I think through our skins when we are at home. A
feeling of absence pervades me. Otherwise I like it. And you;--what
have you been doing?"
"Shooting a little," said Silverbridge, in a mooncalf tone.
"Shooting a great deal, if what I see in the newspapers be true about
Mr. Reginald Dobbes and his party. I presume it is a religion to
offer up hecatombs to the autumnal gods,--who must surely take a
keener delight in blood and slaughter than those bloodthirsty gods of
old."
"You should talk to Gerald about that, sir."
"Has Gerald been so great at his sacrifices? How will that suit with
Plato? What does Mr. Simcox say?"
"Of course they were all to have a holiday just at that time. But
Gerald is reading. I fancy that Gerald is clever."
"And he is a great Nimrod?"
"As to hunting."
"Nimrod I fancy got his game in any way that he could compass it. I
do not doubt but that he trapped foxes."
"With a rifle at deer, say for four hundred yards, I would back
Gerald against any man of his age in England or Scotland."
"As for backing, Silverbridge, do not you think that we had better
have done with that?" This was said hardly in a tone of reproach,
with something even of banter in it; and as the question was asked
the Duke was smiling. But in a moment all that sense of joyousness
which the young man had felt in singing his brother's praises was
expelled. His face fell, and he stood before his father almost like a
culprit. "We might as well have it out about this racing," continued
the Duke. "Something has to be said about it. You have lost an
enormous sum of money." The Duke's tone in saying this became
terribly severe. Such at least was its sound in his son's ears. He
did not mean to be severe.
But when he did speak of that which displeased him his voice
naturally assumed that tone of indignation with which in days of yore
he had been wont to denounce the public extravagance of his opponents
in the House of Commons. The father paused, but the son could not
speak at the moment.
"And worse than that," continued the Duke; "you have lost it in
as bad company as you could have found had you picked all England
through."
"Mr. Lupton, and Sir Henry Playfair, and Lord Stirling were in the
room when the bets were made."
"Were the gentlemen you name concerned with Major Tifto?"
"No, sir."
"Who can tell with whom he may be in a room? Though rooms of that
kind are, I think, best avoided." Then the Duke paused again, but
Silverbridge was now sobbing so that he could hardly speak. "I am
sorry that you should be so grieved," continued the father, "but such
delights cannot, I think, lead to much real joy."
"It is for you, sir," said the son, rubbing his eyes with the hand
which supported his head.
"My grief in the matter might soon be cured."
"How shall I cure it? I will do anything to cure it."
"Let Major Tifto and the horses go."
"They are gone," said Silverbridge energetically, jumping from his
chair as he spoke. "I will never own a horse again, or a part of a
horse. I will have nothing more to do with races. You will believe
me?"
"I will believe anything that you tell me."
"I won't say I will not go to another race, because--"
"No; no. I would not have you hamper yourself. Nor shall you bind
yourself by any further promises. You have done with racing."
"Indeed, indeed I have, sir."
Then the father came up to the son and put his arms round the young
man's shoulders and embraced him. "Of course it made me unhappy."
"I knew it would."
"But if you are cured of this evil, the money is nothing. What is it
all for but for you and your brother and sister? It was a large sum,
but that shall not grieve me. The thing itself is so dangerous that,
if with that much of loss we can escape, I will think that we have
made not a bad market. Who owns the horse now?"
"The horses shall be sold."
"For anything they may fetch so that we may get clear of this dirt.
And the Major?"
"I know nothing of him. I have not seen him since that day."
"Has he claims on you?"
"Not a shilling. It is all the other way."
"Let it go then. Be quit of him, however it may be. Send a messenger
so that he may understand that you have abandoned racing altogether.
Mr. Moreton might perhaps see him."
That his father should forgive so readily and yet himself suffer so
deeply, affected the son's feelings so strongly that for a time he
could hardly repress his sobs. "And now there shall not be a word
more said about it," said the Duke suddenly.
Silverbridge in his confusion could make no answer.
"There shall not be another word said about it," said the Duke again.
"And now what do you mean to do with yourself immediately?"
"I'll stay here, sir, as long as you do. Finn, and Warburton, and I
have still a few coverts to shoot."
"That's a good reason for staying anywhere."
"I meant that I would remain while you remained, sir."
"That at any rate is a good reason, as far as I am concerned. But we
go to Custins next week."
"There's a deal of shooting to be done at Gatherum," said the heir.
"You speak of it as if it were the business of your life,--on which
your bread depended."
"One can't expect game to be kept up if nobody goes to shoot it."
"Can't one? I didn't know. I should have thought that the less was
shot the more there would be to shoot; but I am ignorant in such
matters." Silverbridge then broke forth into a long explanation as to
coverts, gamekeepers, poachers, breeding, and the expectations of the
neighbourhood at large, in the middle of which he was interrupted by
the Duke. "I am afraid, my dear boy, that I am too old to learn. But
as it is so manifestly a duty, go and perform it like a man. Who will
go with you?"
"I will ask Mr. Finn to be one."
"He will be very hard upon you in the way of politics."
"I can answer him better than I can you, sir. Mr. Lupton said he
would come for a day or two. He'll stand to me."
After that his father stopped him as he was about to leave the room.
"One more word, Silverbridge. Do you remember what you were saying
when you walked down to the House with me from your club that night?"
Silverbridge remembered very well what he had said. He had undertaken
to ask Mabel Grex to be his wife, and had received his father's ready
approval to the proposition. But at this moment he was unwilling to
refer to that matter. "I have thought about it very much since that,"
said the Duke. "I may say that I have been thinking of it every day.
If there were anything to tell me, you would let me know;--would you
not?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then there is nothing to be told? I hope you have not changed your
mind."
Silverbridge paused a moment, trusting that he might be able to
escape the making of any answer;--but the Duke evidently intended to
have an answer. "It appeared to me, sir, that it did not seem to suit
her," said the hardly-driven young man. He could not now say that
Mabel had shown a disposition to reject his offer, because as they
had been sitting by the brookside at Killancodlem, even he, with all
his self-diffidence, had been forced to see what were her wishes.
Her confusion, and too evident despair when she heard of the offer
to the American girl, had plainly told her tale. He could not now
plead to his father that Mabel Grex would refuse his offer. But his
self-defence, when first he found that he had lost himself in love
for the American, had been based on that idea. He had done his best
to make Mabel understand him. If he had not actually offered to her,
he had done the next thing to it. And he had run after her, till he
was ashamed of such running. She had given him no encouragement;--and
therefore he had been justified. No doubt he must have been mistaken;
that he now perceived; but still he felt himself to be justified. It
was impossible that he should explain all this to his father. One
thing he certainly could not say,--just at present. After his folly
in regard to those heavy debts he could not at once risk his father's
renewed anger by proposing to him an American daughter-in-law.
That must stand over, at any rate till the girl had accepted him
positively. "I am afraid it won't come off, sir," he said at last.
"Then I am to presume that you have changed your mind?"
"I told you when we were speaking of it that I was not confident."
"She has not--"
"I can't explain it all, sir,--but I fear it won't come off."
Then the Duke, who had been sitting, got up from his chair and with
his back to the fire made a final little speech. "We decided just
now, Silverbridge, that nothing more should be said about that
unpleasant racing business, and nothing more shall be said by me. But
you must not be surprised if I am anxious to see you settled in life.
No young man could be more bound by duty to marry early than you
are. In the first place you have to repair the injury done by my
inaptitude for society. You have explained to me that it is your duty
to have the Barsetshire coverts properly shot, and I have acceded
to your views. Surely it must be equally your duty to see your
Barsetshire neighbours. And you are a young man every feature of
whose character would be improved by matrimony. As far as means are
concerned you are almost as free to make arrangements as though you
were already the head of the family."
"No, sir."
"I could never bring myself to dictate to a son in regard to his
choice of a wife. But I will own that when you told me that you had
chosen I was much gratified. Try and think again when you are pausing
amidst your sacrifices at Gatherum, whether that be possible. If it
be not, still I would wish you to bear in mind what is my idea as to
your duty." Silverbridge said that he would bear this in mind, and
then escaped from the room.