THE WORLD RECALCITRANT
Beaufort Chance was no genius in a drawing-room--that may be accepted on
Lady Blixworth's authority. In concluding that he was a fool in the
general affairs of life she went beyond her premises and her knowledge.
Mrs. Bonfill, out of a larger experience, had considered that he would
do more than usually well; he was ingenious, hard-working, and
conciliatory, of affable address and sufficient tact; Mrs. Bonfill
seemed to have placed him with judgment, and Mr. Dickinson (who led the
House) was content with his performances. Yet perhaps after all he was,
in the finest sense of the term, a fool. He could not see how things
would look to other people, if other people came to know them; he hardly
perceived when he was sailing very near the wind; the probability of an
upset did not occur to him. He saw with his own eyes only; their view
was short, and perhaps awry.
Fricker was his friend; he had bestowed favours on Fricker, or at least
on Fricker's belongings, for whose debts Fricker assumed liability. If
Fricker were minded to repay the obligation, was there any particular
harm in that? Beaufort could not see it. If, again, the account being a
little more than squared, he in his turn equalised it, leaving Fricker's
kindness to set him at a debit again, and again await his balancing,
what harm? It seemed only the natural way of things when business and
friendship went hand in hand. The Frickers wanted one thing, he wanted
another. If each could help the other to the desired object, good was
done to both, hurt to nobody. Many things are private which are not
wrong; delicacy is different from shame, reticence from concealment.
These relations between himself and Fricker were not fit subjects for
gossip, but Beaufort saw no sin in them. Fricker, it need not be added,
was clearly, and even scornfully, of the same opinion.
But Fricker's business affairs were influenced, indeed most materially
affected, by what the Tsar meant to do, and by one or two kindred
problems then greatly exercising the world of politics, society, and
finance. Beaufort Chance was not only in the House, he was in the
Government. Humbly in, it is true, but actually. Still, what then? He
was not in the Cabinet. Did he know secrets? He knew none; of course he
would never have used secrets or divulged them. Things told to him, or
picked up by him, were _ex hypothesi_ not secrets, or he would never
have come to know them. Fricker had represented all this to him, and,
after some consideration and hesitation, Fricker's argument had seemed
very sound.
Must a man be tempted to argue thus or to accept such arguments?
Beaufort scorned the idea, but, lest he should have been in error on
this point, it may be said that there was much to tempt him. He was an
extravagant man; he sat for an expensive constituency; he knew (his
place taught him still better) the value of riches--of real wealth, not
of a beggarly competence. He wanted wealth and he wanted Trix Trevalla.
He seemed to see how he could work towards the satisfaction of both
desires at the same time and along the same lines. Mervyn was his rival
with Trix--every day made that plain. He had believed himself on the way
to win till Mervyn was brought on the scene--by Mrs. Bonfill, whom he
now began to hate. Mervyn had rank and many other advantages. To fight
Mervyn every reinforcement was needed. As wealth tempted himself, so he
knew it would and must tempt Trix; he was better informed as to her
affairs than Mrs. Bonfill, and shared Lady Blixworth's opinion about
them.
Having this opinion, and a lively wish to ingratiate himself with Trix,
he allowed her to share in some of the benefits which his own
information and Fricker's manipulation of the markets brought to their
partnership. Trix, conscious of money slipping away, very ready to put
it back, reckless and ignorant, was only too happy in the opportunity.
She seemed also very grateful, and Beaufort was encouraged to persevere.
For a little while his kindness to Trix escaped Fricker's notice, but
not for long. As soon as Fricker discovered it, his attitude was
perfectly clear and, to himself, no more than reasonable.
'You've every motive for standing well with Mrs. Trevalla, I know, my
dear fellow,' said he, licking his big cigar and placing his
well-groomed hat on Beaufort's table. 'But what motive have I? Everybody
we let in means one more to share the--the profit--perhaps, one might
add, to increase the risk. Now why should I let Mrs. Trevalla in? Any
more than, for instance, I should let--shall we say--Mrs. Bonfill in?'
Fricker did not like Mrs. Bonfill since she had quailed before Viola
Blixworth.
'Oh, if you take it like that!' muttered Beaufort crossly.
'I don't take it any way. I put the case. It would be different if Mrs.
Trevalla were a friend of mine or of my family.'
That was pretty plain for Fricker. As a rule Mrs. Fricker put the things
plainly to him, and he transmitted them considerably disguised and
carefully wrapped in his dry humour. On this occasion he allowed his
hint to be fairly obvious; he knew Beaufort intimately by now.
Beaufort looked at him, feeling rather uncomfortable.
'Friends do one another good turns; I don't go about doing them to
anybody I meet, just for fun,' continued Fricker.
Beaufort nodded a slow assent.
'Of course we don't bargain with a lady,' smiled Fricker, thoughtfully
flicking off his ash. 'But, on the other hand, ladies are very quick to
understand. Eh, Beaufort? I daresay you could convey----?' He stuck the
cigar back into his mouth.
This was the conversation that led to the little dinner-party
hereinbefore recorded; Fricker had gone to it not doubting that Trix
Trevalla understood; Mrs. Fricker did not doubt it either when Trix had
been so civil in the drawing-room. Trix herself had thought she ought to
be civil, as has been seen; it may, however, be doubted whether Beaufort
Chance had made her understand quite how much a matter of business the
whole thing was. She did not realise that she, now or about to be a
social power, was to do what Lady Blixworth would not and Mrs. Bonfill
dared not--was to push the Frickers, to make their cause hers, to open
doors for them, and in return was to be told when to put money in this
stock or that, and when to take it out again. She was told when to do
these things, and did them. The money rolled in, and she was wonderfully
pleased. If it would go on rolling in like this, its rolling out again
(as it did) was of no consequence; her one pressing difficulty seemed in
a fair way to be removed. Something she did for the Frickers; she got
them some minor invitations, and asked them to meet some minor folk, and
thought herself very kind. Now and then they seemed to hint at more,
just as now and then Beaufort Chance's attentions became inconveniently
urgent. On such occasions Trix laughed and joked and evaded, and for the
moment wriggled out of any pledge. As regards the seemliness of the
position, her state of mind was very much Beaufort's own; she saw no
harm in it, but she did not talk about it; some people were stupid,
others malicious. It was, after all, a private concern. So she said
nothing to anybody--not even to Mrs. Bonfill. There was little sign of
Airey Newton's 'second woman' in her treatment of this matter; the first
held undivided sway.
If what the Tsar meant to do and the kindred problems occupied Fricker
in one way, they made no less claim on Mervyn's time in another. He was
very busy in his office and in the House; he had to help Lord Glentorly
to persuade the nation to rely on him. Still he made some opportunities
for meeting Trix Trevalla; she was always very ready to meet him when
Beaufort Chance and Fricker were not to the fore. He was a man of
methodical mind, which he made up slowly. He took things in their order,
and gave them their proper proportion of time. He was making his career.
It could hardly be doubted that he was also paying attentions, and it
was probable that he meant to pay his addresses, to Trix Trevalla. But
his progress was leisurely; the disadvantages attaching to her perhaps
made him slower, even though in the end he would disregard them. In
Trix's eyes he was one or two things worse than leisurely. He was very
confident and rather condescending. On this point she did speak to Mrs.
Bonfill, expressing some impatience. Mrs. Bonfill was sympathetic as
always, but also, as always, wise.
'Well, and if he is, my dear?' Her smile appealed to Trix to admit that
everything which she had been objecting to and rebelling against was no
more than what any woman of the world would expect and allow for.
Trix's expression was still mutinous. Mrs. Bonfill proceeded with
judicial weightiness.
'Now look at Audrey Pollington--you know that big niece of Viola's? Do
you suppose that, if Mortimer paid her attentions, she'd complain of him
for being condescending? She'd just thank her stars, and take what she
could get.' (These very frank expressions are recorded with an apology.)
'I'm not Audrey Pollington,' muttered Trix, using a weak though common
argument.
There are moments when youth is the better for a judicious dose of
truth.
'My dear,' remarked Mrs. Bonfill, 'most people would say that what
Audrey Pollington didn't mind, you needn't.' Miss Pollington was
grand-daughter to a duke (female line), and had a pretty little fortune
of her own. Mrs. Bonfill could not be held wrong for seeking to temper
her young friend's arrogance.
'It's not my idea of making love, that's all,' said Trix obstinately.
'We live and learn.' Mrs. Bonfill implied that Trix had much to learn.
'Don't lose your head, child,' she added warningly. 'You've made plenty
of people envious. Don't give them any chance.' She paused before she
asked, 'Do you see much of Beaufort now?'
'A certain amount.' Trix did not wish to be drawn on this point.
'Well, Trix?'
'We keep friends,' smiled Trix.
'Yes, that's right. I wouldn't see too much of him, though.'
'Till my lord has made up his mind?'
'Silly!' That one word seemed to Mrs. Bonfill sufficient answer. She
had, however, more confidence in Trix than the one word implied. Young
women must be allowed their moods, but most of them acted sensibly in
the end; that was Mrs. Bonfill's experience.
Trix came and kissed her affectionately; she was fond of Mrs. Bonfill
and really grateful to her; it is possible, besides, that she had
twinges of conscience; her conversations with Mrs. Bonfill were marked
by a good deal of reserve. It was all very well to say that the matters
reserved did not concern Mrs. Bonfill, but even Trix in her most
independent mood could not feel quite convinced of this. She
knew--though she tried not to think of it--that she was playing a double
game; in one side of it Mrs. Bonfill was with her and she accepted that
lady's help; the other side was sedulously hidden. It was not playing
fair. Trix might set her teeth sometimes and declare she would do it,
unfair though it was; or more often she would banish thought altogether
by a plunge into amusement; but the thought and the consciousness were
there. Well, she was not treating anybody half as badly as most people
had treated her. She hardened her heart and went forward on her
dangerous path, confident that she could keep clear of pitfalls.
Only--yes, it was all rather a fight; once or twice she thought of
Danes Inn with a half-serious yearning for its quiet and repose.
Some of what Mrs. Bonfill did not see Lady Blixworth did--distantly, of
course, and mainly by putting an observed two together with some other
observed but superficially unrelated two--a task eminently congenial to
her mind. Natural inclination was quickened by family duty. 'I wish,'
Lady Blixworth said, 'that Sarah would have undertaken dear Audrey; but
since she won't, I must do the best I can for her myself.' It was
largely with a view to doing the best she could for Audrey that Lady
Blixworth kept her eye on Trix Trevalla--a thing of which Trix was quite
unconscious. Lady Blixworth's motives command respect, and it must be
admitted that Miss Pollington did not render her relative's dutiful
assistance superfluous. She was a tall, handsome girl, rather inert, not
very ready in conversation. Lady Blixworth, who was never absurd even in
praise, pitched on the epithet 'statuesque' as peculiarly suitable.
Society acquiesced. 'How statuesque Miss Pollington is!' became the
thing to say to one's neighbour or partner. Lady Blixworth herself said
it with a smile sometimes; most people, content as ever to accept what
is given to them, were grave enough.
Audrey herself was extremely pleased with the epithet, so delighted,
indeed, that her aunt thought it necessary to administer a caution.
'When people praise you or your appearance for a certain quality, Audrey
dear,' she observed sweetly, 'it generally means that you've got that
quality in a marked degree.'
'Yes, of course, Aunt Viola,' said Audrey, rather surprised, but quite
understanding.
'And so,' pursued Aunt Viola in yet more gentle tones, 'it isn't
necessary for you to cultivate it consciously.' She stroked Audrey's
hand with much affection. 'Because they tell you you're statuesque, for
instance, don't try to go about looking like the Venus of Milo in a pair
of stays.'
'I'm sure I don't, Auntie,' cried poor Audrey, blushing piteously. She
was conscious of having posed a little bit as Mr. Guise, the eminent
sculptor, passed by.
'On the contrary, it does no harm to remember that one has a tendency in
a certain direction; then one is careful to keep a watch on oneself and
not overdo it. I don't want you to skip about, my dear, but you know
what I mean.'
Audrey nodded rather ruefully. What is the good of being statuesque if
you may not live up to it?
'You aren't hurt with me, darling?' cooed Aunt Viola.
Audrey declared she was not hurt, but she felt rather bewildered.
With the coming of June, affairs of the heart and affairs of the purse
became lamentably and unpoetically confounded in Trix Trevalla's life
and thoughts. Mrs. Bonfill was hinting prodigiously about Audrey
Pollington; Lady Blixworth was working creditably hard, and danger
undoubtedly threatened from that quarter. Trix must exert herself if
Mervyn were not to slip through the meshes. On the other hand, the
problems were rather acute. Lord Farringham had been decidedly
pessimistic in a speech in the House of Lords, Fricker was hinting at a
great _coup_, Beaufort Chance was reminding her in a disagreeably
pressing fashion of how much he had done for her and of how much he
still could do. Trix had tried one or two little gambles on her own
account and met with serious disaster; current expenses rose rather than
fell. In the midst of all her gaiety Trix grew a little careworn and
irritable; a line or two showed on her face; critics said that Mrs.
Trevalla was doing too much, and must be more careful of her looks. Mrs.
Bonfill began to be vaguely uncomfortable about her favourite. But still
Trix held on her way, her courage commanding more admiration than any
other quality she manifested at this time. Indeed she had moments of
clear sight about herself, but her shibboleth of 'revenge' still
sufficed to stiffen, if not to comfort, her.
Some said that Lord Farringham's pessimistic speech was meant only for
home consumption, the objects being to induce the country to spend
money freely and also to feel that it was no moment for seeking to
change the Crown's responsible advisers. Others said that it was
intended solely for abroad, either as a warning or, more probably, as an
excuse to enable a foreign nation to retire with good grace from an
untenable position. A minority considered that the Prime Minister had
perhaps said what he thought. On the whole there was considerable
uneasiness.
'What does it all mean, Mr. Fricker?' asked Trix, when that gentleman
called on her, cool, alert, and apparently in very good spirits.
'It means that fools are making things smooth for wise men, as usual,'
he answered, and looked at her with a keen glance.
'If you will only make them plain to one fool!' she suggested with a
laugh.
'I presume you aren't interested in international politics as such?'
'Not a bit,' said Trix heartily.
'But if there's any little venture going----' He smiled as he tempted
her, knowing that she would yield.
'You've been very kind to me,' murmured Trix.
'It's a big thing this time--and a good thing. You've heard Beaufort
mention the Dramoffsky Concessions, I daresay?'
Trix nodded.
'He'd only mention them casually, of course,' Fricker continued with a
passing smile. 'Well, if there's trouble, or serious apprehension of it,
the Dramoffsky Concessions would be blown sky-high--because it's all
English capital and labour, and for a long time anyhow the whole thing
would be brought to a standstill, and the machinery all go to the deuce,
and so on.'
Again Trix nodded wisely.
'Whereas, if everything's all right, the Concessions are pretty well all
right too. Have you noticed that they've been falling a good deal
lately? No, I suppose not. Most papers don't quote them.'
'I haven't looked for them. I've had my eye on the Glowing Star.' Trix
was anxious to give an impression of being business-like in one matter
anyhow.
'Oh, that's good for a few hundreds, but don't you worry about it. I'll
look after that for you. As I say, if there's serious apprehension,
Dramoffskys go down. Well, there will be--more serious than there is
now. And after that----'
'War?' asked Trix in some excitement.
'We imagine not. I'd say we know, only one never really knows anything.
No, there will be a revival of confidence. And then Dramoffskys--well,
you see what follows. Now it's a little risky--not very--and it's a big
thing if it comes off, and what I'm telling you is worth a considerable
sum as a marketable commodity. Are you inclined to come in?'
To Trix there could be but one answer. Coming in with Mr. Fricker had
always meant coming out better for the process. She thanked him
enthusiastically.
'All right. Lodge five thousand at your bankers' as soon as you can, and
let me have it.'
'Five thousand!' Trix gasped a little. She had not done the thing on
such a scale as this before.
'It's always seemed to me waste of time to fish for herrings with a rod
and line,' observed Fricker; 'but just as you like, of course.'
'Does Beaufort think well of it?'
'Do you generally find us differing?' Fricker smiled ironically.
'I'll go in,' said Trix. 'I shall make a lot, sha'n't I?'
'I think so. Hold your tongue, and stay in till I tell you to come out.
You can rely on me.'
Nothing more passed between them then. Trix was left to consider the
plunge that she had made. Could it possibly go wrong? If it did--she
reckoned up her position. If it went wrong--if the five thousand or the
bulk of it were lost, what was left to her? After payment of all
liabilities, she would have about ten thousand pounds. That she had
determined to keep intact. On the interest of that--at last the
distinction was beginning to thrust itself on her mind with a new and
odious sharpness--she would have to live. To live--not to have that
flat, or those gowns, or that brougham, or this position; not to have
anything that she wanted and loved, but just to live. _Pensions_ again!
It would come to going back to _pensions_.
No, would it? There was another resource. Trix, rather anxious, a little
fretful and uneasy, was sanguine and resolute still. She wrote to
Beaufort Chance, telling him what she had done, thanking him, bidding
him thank Fricker, expressing the amplest gratitude to both gentlemen.
Then she sat down and invited Mervyn to come and see her; he had not
been for some days, and, busy as he was, Trix thought it was time to see
him, and to blot out, for a season at least, all idea of Audrey
Pollington. She reckoned that an interview with her, properly managed,
would put Audrey and her ally out of action for some little while to
come.
Mervyn obeyed her summons, but not in a very cheerful mood. Trix's
efforts to pump him about the problems and the complications were
signally unsuccessful. He snubbed her, giving her to understand that he
was amazed at being asked such questions. What, then, was Beaufort
Chance doing, she asked in her heart. She passed rapidly from the
dangerous ground, declaring with a pout that she thought he might have
told her some gossip, to equip her for her next dinner party. He
responded to her lighter mood with hardly more cordiality. Evidently
there was something wrong with him, something which prevented her spell
from working on him as it was wont. Trix was dismayed. Was her power
gone? It could not be that statuesque Miss Pollington had triumphed, or
was even imminently dangerous.
At last Mervyn broke out with what he had to say. He looked, she
thought, like a husband (not like Vesey Trevalla, but like the abstract
conception), and a rather imperious one, as he took his stand on her
hearthrug and frowned down at her.
'You might know--no, you do know--the best people in London,' he said,
'and yet I hear of your going about with the Frickers! I should think
Fricker's a rogue, and I know he's a cad. And the women!' Aristocratic
scorn embittered his tongue.
'Whom have you heard it from?'
'Lots of people. Among others, Viola Blixworth.'
'Oh, Lady Blixworth! Of course you'd hear it from her!
'It doesn't matter who tells me, if it's true.'
That was an annoying line to take. It was easy to show Lady Blixworth's
motive, but it was impossible to deny the accuracy of what she said. A
hundred safe witnesses would have confounded Trix had she denied.
'What in the world do you do it for?' he asked angrily and impatiently.
'What can Fricker do for you? Don't you see how you lower yourself?
They'll be saying he's bought you next!'
Trix did not start, but a spot of colour came on her cheeks; her eyes
were hard and wary as they watched Mervyn covertly. He came towards her,
and, with a sudden softening of manner, laid his hand on hers.
'Drop them,' he urged. 'Don't have anything more to do with such a lot.'
Trix looked up at him; there were doubt and distress in her eyes. He was
affectionate now, but also very firm.
'For my sake, drop them,' he said. 'You know people can't come where
they may meet the Frickers.'
Trix was never slow of understanding; she saw very well what Mervyn
meant. His words might be smooth, his manner might be kind, and, if she
wished it at the moment, ready to grow more than kind. With all this he
was asking, nay, he was demanding, that she should drop the Frickers.
How difficult the path had suddenly grown; how hard it was to work her
complicated plan!
'A good many people know them. There's Mr. Chance----' she began
timidly.
'Beaufort Chance! Yes, better if he didn't!' His lips, grimly closing
again, were a strong condemnation of his colleague.
'They're kind people, really.'
'They're entirely beneath you--and beneath your friends.'
There was no mistaking the position. Mervyn was delivering an ultimatum.
It was little use to say that he had no right because he had made her no
offer. He had the power, which, it is to be feared, is generally more
the question. And at what a moment the ultimatum came! Must Trix
relinquish that golden dream of the Dramoffsky Concessions, and give up
those hundreds--welcome if few--from the Glowing Star? Or was she to
defy Mervyn and cast in her lot with the Frickers--and with Beaufort
Chance?
'Promise me,' he said softly, with as near an approach to a lover's
entreaty as his grave and condescending manner allowed. 'I never thought
you'd make any difficulty. Do you really hesitate between doing what
pleases me and what pleases Chance or the Frickers?'
Trix would have dearly liked to cry 'Yes, yes, yes!' Such a reply would,
she considered, have been wholesome for Mortimer Mervyn, and it would
have been most gratifying to herself. She dared not give it; it would
mean far too much.
'I can't be actually rude,' she pleaded. 'I must do it gradually. But
since you ask me, I will break with them as much and as soon as I can.'
'That's all I ask of you,' said Mervyn. He bent and kissed her hand with
a reassuring air of homage and devotion. But evidently homage and
devotion must be paid for. They bore a resemblance to financial
assistance in that respect. Trix was becoming disagreeably conscious
that people expected to be paid, in one way or another, for most things
that they gave. Chance and Fricker wanted payment. Mervyn claimed it
too. And to pay both as they asked seemed now impossible.
Somehow life appeared to have an objection to being played with, the
world to be rather unmalleable as material, the revenge not to be the
simple and triumphant progress that it had looked.
Trix Trevalla, under pressure of circumstances, got thus far on the way
towards a judgment of herself and a knowledge of the world; the two
things are closely interdependent.