Lady Mary's Dream
When the Duke and his daughter reached Custins they found a large
party assembled, and were somewhat surprised at the crowd. Lord and
Lady Nidderdale were there, which might have been expected as they
were part of the family. With Lord Popplecourt had come his recent
friend Adolphus Longstaff. That too might have been natural. Mr.
and Miss Boncassen were there also, who at this moment were quite
strangers to the Duke; and Mr. Lupton. The Duke also found Lady
Chiltern, whose father-in-law had more than once sat in the same
Cabinet with himself, and Mr. Monk, who was generally spoken of as
the head of the coming Liberal Government, and the Ladies Adelaide
and Flora FitzHoward, the still unmarried but not very juvenile
daughters of the Duke of St. Bungay. These with a few others made a
large party, and rather confused the Duke, who had hardly reflected
that discreet and profitable love-making was more likely to go on
among numbers, than if the two young people were thrown together with
no other companions.
Lord Popplecourt had been made to understand what was expected
of him, and after some hesitation had submitted himself to the
conspiracy. There would not be less at any rate than two hundred
thousand pounds;--and the connexion would be made with one of the
highest families in Great Britain. Though Lady Cantrip had said very
few words, those words had been expressive; and the young bachelor
peer had given in his adhesion. Some vague half-defined tale had
been told him,--not about Tregear, as Tregear's name had not been
mentioned,--but respecting some dream of a young man who had flitted
across the girl's path during her mother's lifetime. "All girls have
such dreams," Lady Cantrip had suggested. Whereupon Lord Popplecourt
said that he supposed it was so. "But a softer, purer, more unsullied
flower never waited on its stalk till the proper fingers should come
to pluck it," said Lady Cantrip, rising to unaccustomed poetry on
behalf of her friend the Duke. Lord Popplecourt accepted the poetry
and was ready to do his best to pluck the flower.
Soon after the Duke's arrival Lord Popplecourt found himself
in one of the drawing-rooms with Lady Cantrip and his proposed
father-in-law. A hint had been given him that he might as well be
home early from shooting, so as to be in the way. As the hour in
which he was to make himself specially agreeable, both to the father
and to the daughter, had drawn nigh, he became somewhat nervous, and
now, at this moment, was not altogether comfortable. Though he had
been concerned in no such matter before, he had an idea that love was
a soft kind of thing which ought to steal on one unawares and come
and go without trouble. In his case it came upon him with a rough
demand for immediate hard work. He had not previously thought that
he was to be subjected to such labours, and at this moment almost
resented the interference with his ease. He was already a little
angry with Lady Cantrip, but at the same time felt himself to be so
much in subjection to her that he could not rebel.
The Duke himself when he saw the young man was hardly more
comfortable. He had brought his daughter to Custins, feeling that it
was his duty to be with her; but he would have preferred to leave
the whole operation to the care of Lady Cantrip. He hardly liked to
look at the fish whom he wished to catch for his daughter. Whenever
this aspect of affairs presented itself to him, he would endeavour
to console himself by remembering the past success of a similar
transaction. He thought of his own first interview with his wife.
"You have heard," he had said, "what our friends wish." She had
pouted her lips, and when gently pressed had at last muttered, with
her shoulder turned to him, that she supposed it was to be so. Very
much more coercion had been used to her then than either himself or
Lady Cantrip had dared to apply to his daughter. He did not think
that his girl in her present condition of mind would signify to Lord
Popplecourt that "she supposed it was to be so." Now that the time
for the transaction was present he felt almost sure it would never be
transacted. But still he must go on with it. Were he now to abandon
his scheme, would it not be tantamount to abandoning everything? So
he wreathed his face in smiles,--or made some attempt at it,--as he
greeted the young man.
"I hope you and Lady Mary had a pleasant journey abroad," said Lord
Popplecourt. Lord Popplecourt, being aware that he had been chosen
as a son-in-law, felt himself called upon to be familiar as well as
pleasant. "I often thought of you and Lady Mary, and wondered what
you were about."
"We were visiting lakes and mountains, churches and picture
galleries, cities and salt-mines," said the Duke.
"Does Lady Mary like that sort of thing?"
"I think she was pleased with what she saw."
"She has been abroad a great deal before, I believe. It depends so
much on whom you meet when abroad."
This was unfortunate, because it recalled Tregear to the Duke's mind.
"We saw very few people whom we knew," he said.
"I've been shooting in Scotland with Silverbridge, and Gerald, and
Reginald Dobbes, and Nidderdale,--and that fellow Tregear, who is so
thick with Silverbridge."
"Indeed!"
"I'm told that Lord Gerald is going to be the great shot of his day,"
said Lady Cantrip.
"It is a distinction," said the Duke bitterly.
"He did not beat me by so much," continued Popplecourt. "I think
Tregear did the best with his rifle. One morning he potted three.
Dobbes was disgusted. He hated Tregear."
"Isn't it stupid,--half-a-dozen men getting together in that way?"
asked Lady Cantrip.
"Nidderdale is always jolly."
"I am glad to hear that," said the mother-in-law.
"And Gerald is a regular brick." The Duke bowed. "Silverbridge used
always to be going off to Killancodlem, where there were a lot of
ladies. He is very sweet, you know, on this American girl whom you
have here." Again the Duke winced. "Dobbes is awfully good as to
making out the shooting, but then he is a tyrant. Nevertheless I
agree with him, if you mean to do a thing you should do it."
"Certainly," said the Duke. "But you should make up your mind first
whether the thing is worth doing."
"Just so," said Popplecourt. "And as grouse and deer together are
about the best things out, most of us made up our minds that it was
worth doing. But that fellow Tregear would argue it out. He said a
gentleman oughtn't to play billiards as well as a marker."
"I think he was right," said the Duke.
"Do you know Mr. Tregear, Duke?"
"I have met him--with my son."
"Do you like him?"
"I have seen very little of him."
"I cannot say I do. He thinks so much of himself. Of course he is
very intimate with Silverbridge, and that is all that any one knows
of him." The Duke bowed almost haughtily, though why he bowed he
could hardly have explained to himself. Lady Cantrip bit her lips in
disgust. "He's just the fellow," continued Popplecourt, "to think
that some princess has fallen in love with him." Then the Duke left
the room.
"You had better not talk to him about Mr. Tregear," said Lady
Cantrip.
"Why not?"
"I don't know whether he approves of the intimacy between him and
Lord Silverbridge."
"I should think not;--a man without any position or a shilling in the
world."
"The Duke is peculiar. If a subject is distasteful to him he does
not like it to be mentioned. You had better not mention Mr. Tregear."
Lady Cantrip, as she said this, blushed inwardly at her own
hypocrisy.
It was of course contrived at dinner that Lord Popplecourt should
take out Lady Mary. It is impossible to discover how such things get
wind, but there was already an idea prevalent at Custins that Lord
Popplecourt had matrimonial views, and that these views were looked
upon favourably. "You may be quite sure of it, Mr. Lupton," Lady
Adelaide FitzHoward had said. "I'll make a bet they're married before
this time next year."
"It will be a terrible case of Beauty and the Beast," said Lupton.
Lady Chiltern had whispered a suspicion of the same kind, and had
expressed a hope that the lover would be worthy of the girl. And
Dolly Longstaff had chaffed his friend Popplecourt on the subject,
Popplecourt having laid himself open by indiscreet allusions to
Dolly's love for Miss Boncassen. "Everybody can't have it as easily
arranged for him as you,--a Duke's daughter and a pot of money
without so much as the trouble of asking for it!"
"What do you know about the Duke's children?"
"That's what it is to be a lord and not to have a father."
Popplecourt tried to show that he was disgusted; but he felt himself
all the more strongly bound to go on with his project.
It was therefore a matter of course that these should-be lovers would
be sent out of the room together. "You'll give your arm to Mary,"
Lady Cantrip said, dropping the ceremonial prefix. Lady Mary of
course went out as she was bidden. Though everybody else knew it, no
idea of what was intended had yet come across her mind.
The should-be lover immediately reverted to the Austrian tour,
expressing a hope that his neighbour had enjoyed herself. "There's
nothing I like so much myself," said he, remembering some of the
Duke's words, "as mountains, cities, salt-mines, and all that kind of
thing. There's such a lot of interest about it."
"Did you ever see a salt-mine?"
"Well,--not exactly a salt-mine; but I have coal-mines on my property
in Staffordshire. I'm very fond of coal. I hope you like coal."
"I like salt a great deal better--to look at."
"But which do you think pays best? I don't mind telling you,--though
it's a kind of thing I never talk about to strangers,--the royalties
from the Blogownie and Toodlem mines go up regularly two thousand
pounds every year."
"I thought we were talking about what was pretty to look at."
"So we were. I'm as fond of pretty things as anybody. Do you know
Reginald Dobbes?"
"No, I don't. Is he pretty?"
"He used to be so angry with Silverbridge, because Silverbridge would
say Crummie-Toddie was ugly."
"Was Crummie-Toddie ugly?"
"Just a plain house on a moor."
"That sounds ugly."
"I suppose your family like pretty things?"
"I hope so."
"I do, I know." Lord Popplecourt endeavoured to look as though he
intended her to understand that she was the pretty thing which he
most particularly liked. She partly conceived his meaning, and was
disgusted accordingly. On the other side of her sat Mr. Boncassen, to
whom she had been introduced in the drawing-room,--and who had said a
few words to her about some Norwegian poet. She turned round to him,
and asked him some questions about the Skald, and so, getting into
conversation with him, managed to turn her shoulder to her suitor. On
the other side of him sat Lady Rosina de Courcy, to whom, as being
an old woman and an old maid, he felt very little inclined to be
courteous. She said a word, asking him whether he did not think the
weather was treacherous. He answered her very curtly, and sat bolt
upright, looking forward on the table, and taking his dinner as it
came to him. He had been put there in order that Lady Mary Palliser
might talk to him, and he regarded interference on the part of
that old American as being ungentlemanlike. But the old American
disregarded him, and went on with his quotations from the
Scandinavian bard.
But Mr. Boncassen sat next to Lady Cantrip, and when at last he was
called upon to give his ear to the Countess, Lady Mary was again
vacant for Popplecourt's attentions.
"Are you very fond of poetry?" he asked.
"Very fond."
"So am I. Which do you like best, Tennyson or Shakespeare?"
"They are very unlike."
"Yes;--they are unlike. Or Moore's Melodies? I am very fond of 'When
in death I shall calm recline.' I think this equal to anything.
Reginald Dobbes would have it that poetry is all bosh."
"Then I think that Mr. Reginald Dobbes must be all bosh himself."
"There was a man there named Tregear who had brought some books."
Then there was a pause. Lady Mary had not a word to say. "Dobbes used
to declare that he was always pretending to read poetry."
"Mr. Tregear never pretends anything."
"Do you know him?" asked the rival.
"He is my brother's most particular friend."
"Ah! yes. I dare say Silverbridge has talked to you about him. I
think he's a stuck-up sort of fellow." To this there was not a word
of reply. "Where did your brother pick him up?"
"They were at Oxford together."
"I must say I think he gives himself airs;--because, you know, he's
nobody."
"I don't know anything of the kind," said Lady Mary, becoming very
red. "And as he is my brother's most particular friend,--his very
friend of friends,--I think you had better not abuse him to me."
"I don't think the Duke is very fond of him."
"I don't care who is fond of him. I am very fond of Silverbridge, and
I won't hear his friend ill-spoken of. I dare say he had some books
with him. He is not at all the sort of a man to go to a place and
satisfy himself with doing nothing but killing animals."
"Do you know him, Lady Mary?"
"I have seen him, and of course I have heard a great deal of him from
Silverbridge. I would rather not talk any more about him."
"You seem to be very fond of Mr. Tregear," he said angrily.
"It is no business of yours, Lord Popplecourt, whether I am fond of
anybody or not. I have told you that Mr. Tregear is my brother's
friend, and that ought to be enough."
Lord Popplecourt was a young man possessed of a certain amount of
ingenuity. It was said of him that he knew on which side his bread
was buttered, and that if you wished to take him in you must get up
early. After dinner and during the night he pondered a good deal on
what he had heard. Lady Cantrip had told him there had been a--dream.
What was he to believe about that dream? Had he not better avoid the
error of putting too fine a point upon it, and tell himself at once
that a dream in this instance meant a--lover? Lady Mary had already
been troubled by a lover! He was disposed to believe that young
ladies often do have objectionable lovers, and that things get
themselves right afterwards. Young ladies can be made to understand
the beauty of coal-mines almost as readily as young gentlemen. There
would be the two hundred thousand pounds; and there was the girl,
beautiful, well-born, and thoroughly well-mannered. But what if
this Tregear and the dream were one and the same? If so, had he not
received plenty of evidence that the dream had not yet passed away?
A remnant of affection for the dream would not have been a fatal
barrier, had not the girl been so fierce with him in defence of her
dream. He remembered, too, what the Duke had said about Tregear, and
Lady Cantrip's advice to him to be silent in respect to this man. And
then do girls generally defend their brothers' friends as she had
defended Tregear? He thought not. Putting all these things together
on the following morning he came to an uncomfortable belief that
Tregear was the dream.
Soon after that he found himself near to Dolly Longstaff as they were
shooting. "You know that fellow Tregear, don't you?"
"Oh Lord, yes. He is Silverbridge's pal."
"Did you ever hear anything about him?"
"What sort of thing?"
"Was he ever--ever in love with any one?"
"I fancy he used to be awfully spooney on Mab Grex. I remember
hearing that they were to have been married, only that neither of
them had sixpence."
"Oh--Lady Mabel Grex! That's a horse of another colour."
"And which is the horse of your colour?"
"I haven't got a horse," said Lord Popplecourt, going away to his own
corner.