TRUMPETON WOOD.
In the meantime the hunting season was going on in the Brake country
with chequered success. There had arisen the great Trumpeton Wood
question, about which the sporting world was doomed to hear so much
for the next twelve months,--and Lord Chiltern was in an unhappy
state of mind. Trumpeton Wood belonged to that old friend of ours,
the Duke of Omnium, who had now almost fallen into second childhood.
It was quite out of the question that the Duke should himself
interfere in such a matter, or know anything about it; but Lord
Chiltern, with headstrong resolution, had persisted in writing to the
Duke himself. Foxes had always hitherto been preserved in Trumpeton
Wood, and the earths had always been stopped on receipt of due notice
by the keepers. During the cubbing season there had arisen quarrels.
The keepers complained that no effort was made to kill the foxes.
Lord Chiltern swore that the earths were not stopped. Then there came
tidings of a terrible calamity. A dying fox, with a trap to its pad,
was found in the outskirts of the Wood; and Lord Chiltern wrote to
the Duke. He drew the Wood in regular course before any answer could
be received,--and three of his hounds picked up poison, and died
beneath his eyes. He wrote to the Duke again,--a cutting letter; and
then came from the Duke's man of business, Mr. Fothergill, a very
short reply, which Lord Chiltern regarded as an insult. Hitherto the
affair had not got into the sporting papers, and was simply a matter
of angry discussion at every meet in the neighbouring counties. Lord
Chiltern was very full of wrath, and always looked as though he
desired to avenge those poor hounds on the Duke and all belonging
to him. To a Master of Hounds the poisoning of one of his pack is
murder of the deepest dye. There probably never was a Master who in
his heart of hearts would not think it right that a detected culprit
should be hung for such an offence. And most Masters would go further
than this, and declare that in the absence of such detection the
owner of the covert in which the poison had been picked up should be
held to be responsible. In this instance the condition of ownership
was unfortunate. The Duke himself was old, feeble, and almost
imbecile. He had never been eminent as a sportsman; but, in a not
energetic manner, he had endeavoured to do his duty by the country.
His heir, Plantagenet Palliser, was simply a statesman, who, as
regarded himself, had never a day to spare for amusement; and who, in
reference to sport, had unfortunate fantastic notions that pheasants
and rabbits destroyed crops, and that foxes were injurious to old
women's poultry. He, however, was not the owner, and had refused
to interfere. There had been family quarrels too, adverse to the
sporting interests of the younger Palliser scions, so that the
shooting of this wood had drifted into the hands of Mr. Fothergill
and his friends. Now, Lord Chiltern had settled it in his own mind
that the hounds had been poisoned, if not in compliance with Mr.
Fothergill's orders, at any rate in furtherance of his wishes,
and, could he have had his way, he certainly would have sent Mr.
Fothergill to the gallows. Now, Miss Palliser, who was still staying
at Lord Chiltern's house, was niece to the old Duke, and first cousin
to the heir. "They are nothing to me," she said once, when Lord
Chiltern had attempted to apologise for the abuse he was heaping on
her relatives. "I haven't seen the Duke since I was a little child,
and I shouldn't know my cousin were I to meet him."
"So much the more gracious is your condition," said Lady
Chiltern,--"at any rate in Oswald's estimation."
"I know them, and once spent a couple of days at Matching with them,"
said Lord Chiltern. "The Duke is an old fool, who always gave himself
greater airs than any other man in England,--and as far as I can see,
with less to excuse them. As for Planty Pall, he and I belong so
essentially to different orders of things, that we can hardly be
reckoned as being both men."
"And which is the man, Lord Chiltern?"
"Whichever you please, my dear; only not both. Doggett was over there
yesterday, and found three separate traps."
"What did he do with the traps?" said Lady Chiltern.
"I wasn't fool enough to ask him, but I don't in the least doubt that
he threw them into the water--or that he'd throw Palliser there too
if he could get hold of him. As for taking the hounds to Trumpeton
again, I wouldn't do it if there were not another covert in the
country."
"Then leave it so, and have done with it," said his wife. "I wouldn't
fret as you do for what another man did with his own property, for
all the foxes in England."
"That is because you understand nothing of hunting, my dear. A man's
property is his own in one sense, but isn't his own in another. A man
can't do what he likes with his coverts."
"He can cut them down."
"But he can't let another pack hunt them, and he can't hunt them
himself. If he's in a hunting county he is bound to preserve foxes."
"What binds him, Oswald? A man can't be bound without a penalty."
"I should think it penalty enough for everybody to hate me. What are
you going to do about Phineas Finn?"
"I have asked him to come on the 1st and stay till Parliament meets."
"And is that woman coming?"
"There are two or three women coming."
"She with the German name, whom you made me dine with in Park Lane?"
"Madame Max Goesler is coming. She brings her own horses, and they
will stand at Doggett's."
"They can't stand here, for there is not a stall."
"I am so sorry that my poor little fellow should incommode you," said
Miss Palliser.
"You're a licensed offender,--though, upon my honour, I don't know
whether I ought to give a feed of oats to any one having a connection
with Trumpeton Wood. And what is Phineas to ride?"
"He shall ride my horses," said Lady Chiltern, whose present
condition in life rendered hunting inopportune to her.
"Neither of them would carry him a mile. He wants about as good an
animal as you can put him upon. I don't know what I'm to do. It's all
very well for Laura to say that he must be mounted."
"You wouldn't refuse to give Mr. Finn a mount!" said Lady Chiltern,
almost with dismay.
"I'd give him my right hand to ride, only it wouldn't carry him. I
can't make horses. Harry brought home that brown mare on Tuesday with
an overreach that she won't get over this season. What the deuce they
do with their horses to knock them about so, I can't understand. I've
killed horses in my time, and ridden them to a stand-still, but I
never bruised them and battered them about as these fellows do."
"Then I'd better write to Mr. Finn, and tell him," said Lady
Chiltern, very gravely.
"Oh, Phineas Finn!" said Lord Chiltern; "oh, Phineas Finn! what a
pity it was that you and I didn't see the matter out when we stood
opposite to each other on the sands at Blankenberg!"
"Oswald," said his wife, getting up, and putting her arm over his
shoulder, "you know you would give your best horse to Mr. Finn,
as long as he chose to stay here, though you rode upon a donkey
yourself."
"I know that if I didn't, you would," said Lord Chiltern. And so the
matter was settled.
At night, when they were alone together, there was further discussion
as to the visitors who were coming to Harrington Hall. "Is Gerard
Maule to come back?" asked the husband.
"I have asked him. He left his horses at Doggett's, you know."
"I didn't know."
"I certainly told you, Oswald. Do you object to his coming? You can't
really mean that you care about his riding?"
"It isn't that. You must have some whipping post, and he's as good
as another. But he shilly-shallies about that girl. I hate all that
stuff like poison."
"All men are not so--abrupt shall I say?--as you were."
"I had something to say, and I said it. When I had said it a dozen
times, I got to have it believed. He doesn't say it as though he
meant to have it believed."
"You were always in earnest, Oswald."
"I was."
"To the extent of the three minutes which you allowed yourself. It
sufficed, however;--did it not? You are glad you persevered?"
"What fools women are."
"Never mind that. Say you are glad. I like you to tell me so. Let me
be a fool if I will."
"What made you so obstinate?"
"I don't know. I never could tell. It wasn't that I didn't dote upon
you, and think about you, and feel quite sure that there never could
be any other one than you."
"I've no doubt it was all right;--only you very nearly made me shoot
a fellow, and now I've got to find horses for him. I wonder whether
he could ride Dandolo?"
"Don't put him up on anything very hard."
"Why not? His wife is dead, and he hasn't got a child, nor yet an
acre of property. I don't know who is entitled to break his neck if
he is not. And Dandolo is as good a horse as there is in the stable,
if you can once get him to go. Mind, I have to start to-morrow at
nine, for it's all eighteen miles." And so the Master of the Brake
Hounds took himself to his repose.
Lady Laura Kennedy had written to Barrington Erle respecting her
friend's political interests, and to her sister-in-law, Lady
Chiltern, as to his social comfort. She could not bear to think that
he should be left alone in London till Parliament should meet, and
had therefore appealed to Lady Chiltern as to the memory of many past
events. The appeal had been unnecessary and superfluous. It cannot
be said that Phineas and his affairs were matters of as close an
interest to Lady Chiltern as to Lady Laura. If any woman loved her
husband beyond all things Lord Chiltern's wife did, and ever had done
so. But there had been a tenderness in regard to the young Irish
Member of Parliament, which Violet Effingham had in old days shared
with Lady Laura, and which made her now think that all good things
should be done for him. She believed him to be addicted to hunting,
and therefore horses must be provided for him. He was a widower, and
she remembered of old that he was fond of pretty women, and she knew
that in coming days he might probably want money;--and therefore she
had asked Madame Max Goesler to spend a fortnight at Harrington Hall.
Madame Max Goesler and Phineas Finn had been acquainted before, as
Lady Chiltern was well aware. But perhaps Lady Chiltern, when she
summoned Madame Max into the country, did not know how close the
acquaintance had been.
Madame Max came a couple of days before Phineas, and was taken out
hunting on the morning after her arrival. She was a lady who could
ride to hounds,--and who, indeed, could do nearly anything to which
she set her mind. She was dark, thin, healthy, good-looking, clever,
ambitious, rich, unsatisfied, perhaps unscrupulous,--but not without
a conscience. As has been told in a former portion of this chronicle,
she could always seem to be happy with her companion of the day, and
yet there was ever present a gnawing desire to do something more and
something better than she had as yet achieved. Of course, as he took
her to the meet, Lord Chiltern told her his grievance respecting
Trumpeton Wood. "But, my dear Lord Chiltern, you must not abuse the
Duke of Omnium to me."
"Why not to you?"
"He and I are sworn friends."
"He's a hundred years old."
"And why shouldn't I have a friend a hundred years old? And as
for Mr. Palliser, he knows no more of your foxes than I know of
his taxes. Why don't you write to Lady Glencora? She understands
everything."
"Is she a friend of yours, too?"
"My particular friend. She and I, you know, look after the poor dear
Duke between us."
"I can understand why she should sacrifice herself."
"But not why I do. I can't explain it myself; but so it has come
to pass, and I must not hear the Duke abused. May I write to Lady
Glencora about it?"
"Certainly,--if you please; but not as giving her any message from
me. Her uncle's property is mismanaged most damnably. If you choose
to tell her that I say so you can. I'm not going to ask anything as a
favour. I never do ask favours. But the Duke or Planty Palliser among
them should do one of two things. They should either stand by the
hunting, or they should let it alone;--and they should say what they
mean. I like to know my friends, and I like to know my enemies."
"I am sure the Duke is not your enemy, Lord Chiltern."
"These Pallisers have always been running with the hare and hunting
with the hounds. They are great aristocrats, and yet are always
going in for the people. I'm told that Planty Pall calls fox-hunting
barbarous. Why doesn't he say so out loud, and stub up Trumpeton Wood
and grow corn?"
"Perhaps he will when Trumpeton Wood belongs to him."
"I should like that much better than poisoning hounds and trapping
foxes." When they got to the meet, conclaves of men might be
seen gathered together here and there, and in each conclave they
were telling something new or something old as to the iniquities
perpetrated at Trumpeton Wood.
On that evening before dinner Madame Goesler was told by her
hostess that Phineas Finn was expected on the following day. The
communication was made quite as a matter of course; but Lady Chiltern
had chosen a time in which the lights were shaded, and the room was
dark. Adelaide Palliser was present, as was also a certain Lady
Baldock,--not that Lady Baldock who had abused all Papists to poor
Phineas, but her son's wife. They were drinking tea together over
the fire, and the dim lights were removed from the circle. This, no
doubt, was simply an accident; but the gloom served Madame Goesler
during one moment of embarrassment. "An old friend of yours is coming
here to-morrow," said Lady Chiltern.
"An old friend of mine! Shall I call my friend he or she?"
"You remember Mr. Finn?"
That was the moment in which Madame Goesler rejoiced that no strong
glare of light fell upon her face. But she was a woman who would not
long leave herself subject to any such embarrassment. "Surely," she
said, confining herself at first to the single word.
"He is coming here. He is a great friend of mine."
"He always was a good friend of yours, Lady Chiltern."
"And of yours, too, Madame Max. A sort of general friend, I think,
was Mr. Finn in the old days. I hope you will be glad to see him."
"Oh, dear, yes."
"I thought him very nice," said Adelaide Palliser.
"I remember mamma saying, before she was mamma, you know," said Lady
Baldock, "that Mr. Finn was very nice indeed, only he was a Papist,
and only he had got no money, and only he would fall in love with
everybody. Does he go on falling in love with people, Violet?"
"Never with married women, my dear. He has had a wife himself since
that, Madame Goesler, and the poor thing died."
"And now here he is beginning all over again," said Lady Baldock.
"And as pleasant as ever," said her cousin. "You know he has done all
manner of things for our family. He picked Oswald up once after one
of those terrible hunting accidents; and he saved Mr. Kennedy when
men were murdering him."
"That was questionable kindness," said Lady Baldock.
"And he sat for Lord Brentford's borough."
"How good of him!" said Miss Palliser.
"And he has done all manner of things," said Lady Chiltern.
"Didn't he once fight a duel?" asked Madame Goesler.
"That was the grandest thing of all," said his friend, "for he
didn't shoot somebody whom perhaps he might have shot had he been
as bloodthirsty as somebody else. And now he has come back to
Parliament, and all that kind of thing, and he's coming here to hunt.
I hope you'll be glad to see him, Madame Goesler."
"I shall be very glad to see him," said Madame Goesler, slowly; "I
heard about his success at that town, and I knew that I should meet
him somewhere."