LORD ONGAR.
On the next morning Harry Clavering rode over to Stratton, thinking
much of his misery as he went. It was all very well for him, in the
presence of his own family to talk of his profession as the one
subject which was to him of any importance; but he knew very well
himself that he was only beguiling them in doing so. This question
of a profession was, after all, but dead leaves to him,--to him who
had a canker at his heart, a perpetual thorn in his bosom, a misery
within him which no profession could mitigate! Those dear ones at
home guessed nothing of this, and he would take care that they should
guess nothing. Why should they have the pain of knowing that he had
been made wretched for ever by blighted hopes? His mother, indeed,
had suspected something in those sweet days of his roaming with Julia
through the park. She had once or twice said a word to warn him. But
of the very truth of his deep love,--so he told himself,--she had
been happily ignorant. Let her be ignorant. Why should he make his
mother unhappy? As these thoughts passed through his mind, I think
that he revelled in his wretchedness, and made much to himself of his
misery. He sucked in his sorrow greedily, and was somewhat proud to
have had occasion to break his heart. But not the less, because he
was thus early blighted, would he struggle for success in the world.
He would show her that, as his wife, she might have had a worthier
position than Lord Ongar could give her. He, too, might probably rise
the quicker in the world, as now he would have no impediment of wife
or family. Then, as he rode along, he composed a sonnet, fitting to
his case, the strength and rhythm of which seemed to him, as he sat
on horseback, to be almost perfect. Unfortunately, when he was back
at Clavering, and sat in his room with the pen in his hand, the turn
of the words had escaped him.
He found Mr. Burton at home, and was not long in concluding his
business. Messrs. Beilby and Burton were not only civil engineers,
but were land surveyors also, and land valuers on a great scale. They
were employed much by Government upon public buildings, and if not
architects themselves, were supposed to know all that architects
should do and should not do. In the purchase of great properties
Mr. Burton's opinion was supposed to be, or to have been, as good as
any in the kingdom, and therefore there was very much to be learned
in the office at Stratton. But Mr. Burton was not a rich man like
his partner, Mr. Beilby, nor an ambitious man. He had never soared
Parliamentwards, had never speculated, had never invented, and never
been great. He had been the father of a very large family, all of
whom were doing as well in the world, and some of them perhaps
better, than their father. Indeed, there were many who said that Mr.
Burton would have been a richer man if he had not joined himself
in partnership with Mr. Beilby. Mr. Beilby had the reputation of
swallowing more than his share wherever he went.
When the business part of the arrangement was finished Mr. Burton
talked to his future pupil about lodgings, and went out with him into
the town to look for rooms. The old man found that Harry Clavering
was rather nice in this respect, and in his own mind formed an idea
that this new beginner might have been a more auspicious pupil, had
he not already become a fellow of a college. Indeed, Harry talked
to him quite as though they two were on an equality together; and,
before they had parted, Mr. Burton was not sure that Harry did not
patronize him. He asked the young man, however, to join them at their
early dinner, and then introduced him to Mrs. Burton, and to their
youngest daughter, the only child who was still living with them.
"All my other girls are married, Mr. Clavering; and all of them
married to men connected with my own profession." The colour came
slightly to Florence Burton's cheeks as she heard her father's words,
and Harry asked himself whether the old man expected that he should
go through the same ordeal; but Mr. Burton himself was quite unaware
that he had said anything wrong, and then went on to speak of the
successes of his sons. "But they began early, Mr. Clavering; and
worked hard,--very hard indeed." He was a good, kindly, garrulous
old man; but Harry began to doubt whether he would learn much at
Stratton. It was, however, too late to think of that now, and
everything was fixed.
Harry, when he looked at Florence Burton, at once declared to himself
that she was plain. Anything more unlike Julia Brabazon never
appeared in the guise of a young lady. Julia was tall, with a high
brow, a glorious complexion, a nose as finely modelled as though a
Grecian sculptor had cut it, a small mouth, but lovely in its curves,
and a chin that finished and made perfect the symmetry of her face.
Her neck was long, but graceful as a swan's, her bust was full, and
her whole figure like that of a goddess. Added to this, when he
had first known her, had been all the charm of youth. When she had
returned to Clavering the other day, the affianced bride of Lord
Ongar, he had hardly known whether to admire or to deplore the
settled air of established womanhood which she had assumed. Her
large eyes had always lacked something of rapid glancing sparkling
brightness. They had been glorious eyes to him, and in those early
days he had not known that they lacked aught; but he had perceived,
or perhaps fancied, that now, in her present condition, they were
often cold, and sometimes almost cruel. Nevertheless he was ready to
swear that she was perfect in her beauty.
Poor Florence Burton was short of stature, was brown, meagre, and
poor-looking. So said Harry Clavering to himself. Her small hand,
though soft, lacked that wondrous charm of touch which Julia's
possessed. Her face was short, and her forehead, though it was broad
and open, had none of that feminine command which Julia's look
conveyed. That Florence's eyes were very bright,--bright and soft as
well, he allowed; and her dark brown hair was very glossy; but she
was, on the whole, a mean-looking little thing. He could not, as he
said to himself on his return home, avoid the comparison, as she was
the first girl he had seen since he had parted from Julia Brabazon.
"I hope you'll find yourself comfortable at Stratton, sir," said old
Mrs. Burton.
"Thank you," said Harry, "but I want very little myself in that way.
Anything does for me."
"One young gentleman we had took a bedroom at Mrs. Pott's, and did
very nicely without any second room at all. Don't you remember, Mr.
B.? it was young Granger."
"Young Granger had a very short allowance," said Mr. Burton. "He
lived upon fifty pounds a year all the time he was here."
"And I don't think Scarness had more when he began," said Mrs.
Burton. "Mr. Scarness married one of my girls, Mr. Clavering, when he
started himself at Liverpool. He has pretty nigh all the Liverpool
docks under him now. I have heard him say that butcher's meat did not
cost him four shillings a week all the time he was here. I've always
thought Stratton one of the reasonablest places anywhere for a young
man to do for himself in."
"I don't know, my dear," said the husband, "that Mr. Clavering will
care very much for that."
"Perhaps not, Mr. B.; but I do like to see young men careful about
their spendings. What's the use of spending a shilling when sixpence
will do as well; and sixpence saved when a man has nothing but
himself, becomes pounds and pounds by the time he has a family about
him."
During all this time Miss Burton said little or nothing, and Harry
Clavering himself did not say much. He could not express any
intention of rivalling Mr. Scarness's economy in the article of
butcher's meat, nor could he promise to content himself with
Granger's solitary bedroom. But as he rode home he almost began to
fear that he had made a mistake. He was not wedded to the joys of
his college hall, or the college common room. He did not like the
narrowness of college life. But he doubted whether the change from
that to the oft-repeated hospitalities of Mrs. Burton might not be
too much for him. Scarness's four shillings'-worth of butcher's meat
had already made him half sick of his new profession, and though
Stratton might be the "reasonablest place anywhere for a young man,"
he could not look forward to living there for a year with much
delight. As for Miss Burton, it might be quite as well that she was
plain, as he wished for none of the delights which beauty affords to
young men.
On his return home, however, he made no complaint of Stratton. He was
too strong-willed to own that he had been in any way wrong, and when
early in the following week he started for St. Cuthbert's, he was
able to speak with cheerful hope of his new prospects. If ultimately
he should find life in Stratton to be unendurable, he would cut that
part of his career short, and contrive to get up to London at an
earlier time than he had intended.
On the 31st of August Lord Ongar and Sir Hugh Clavering reached
Clavering Park, and, as has been already told, a pretty little note
was at once sent up to Miss Brabazon in her bedroom. When she met
Lord Ongar in the drawing-room, about an hour afterwards, she had
instructed herself that it would be best to say nothing of the note;
but she could not refrain from a word. "I am much obliged, my lord,
by your kindness and generosity," she said, as she gave him her hand.
He merely bowed and smiled, and muttered something as to his hoping
that he might always find it as easy to gratify her. He was a little
man, on whose behalf it certainly appeared that the Peerage must have
told a falsehood; it seemed so at least to those who judged of his
years from his appearance. The Peerage said that he was thirty-six,
and that, no doubt, was in truth his age, but any one would have
declared him to be ten years older. This look was produced chiefly
by the effect of an elaborately dressed jet black wig which he wore.
What misfortune had made him bald so early,--if to be bald early in
life be a misfortune,--I cannot say; but he had lost the hair from
the crown of his head, and had preferred wiggery to baldness. No
doubt an effort was made to hide the wiggishness of his wigs, but
what effect in that direction was ever made successfully? He was,
moreover, weak, thin, and physically poor, and had, no doubt,
increased this weakness and poorness by hard living. Though others
thought him old, time had gone swiftly with him, and he still thought
himself a young man. He hunted, though he could not ride. He shot,
though he could not walk. And, unfortunately, he drank, though he
had no capacity for drinking! His friends at last had taught him to
believe that his only chance of saving himself lay in marriage, and
therefore he had engaged himself to Julia Brabazon, purchasing her at
the price of a brilliant settlement. If Lord Ongar should die before
her, Ongar Park was to be hers for life, with thousands a year to
maintain it. Courton Castle, the great family seat, would of course
go to the heir; but Ongar Park was supposed to be the most delightful
small country-seat anywhere within thirty miles of London. It lay
among the Surrey hills, and all the world had heard of the charms of
Ongar Park. If Julia were to survive her lord, Ongar Park was to be
hers; and they who saw them both together had but little doubt that
she would come to the enjoyment of this clause in her settlement.
Lady Clavering had been clever in arranging the match; and Sir Hugh,
though he might have been unwilling to give his sister-in-law money
out of his own pocket, had performed his duty as a brother-in-law in
looking to her future welfare. Julia Brabazon had no doubt that she
was doing well. Poor Harry Clavering! She had loved him in the days
of her romance. She, too, had written her sonnets. But she had grown
old earlier in life than he had done, and had taught herself that
romance could not be allowed to a woman in her position. She was
highly born, the daughter of a peer, without money, and even without
a home to which she had any claim. Of course she had accepted Lord
Ongar, but she had not put out her hand to take all these good things
without resolving that she would do her duty to her future lord. The
duty would be doubtless disagreeable, but she would do it with all
the more diligence on that account.
September passed by, hecatombs of partridges were slaughtered, and
the day of the wedding drew nigh. It was pretty to see Lord Ongar and
the self-satisfaction which he enjoyed at this time. The world was
becoming young with him again, and he thought that he rather liked
the respectability of his present mode of life. He gave himself but
scanty allowances of wine, and no allowance of anything stronger than
wine, and did not dislike his temperance. There was about him at all
hours an air which seemed to say, "There; I told you all that I could
do it as soon as there was any necessity." And in these halcyon days
he could shoot for an hour without his pony, and he liked the gentle
courteous badinage which was bestowed upon his courtship, and he
liked also Julia's beauty. Her conduct to him was perfect. She was
never pert, never exigeant, never romantic, and never humble. She
never bored him, and yet was always ready to be with him when he
wished it. She was never exalted; and yet she bore her high place as
became a woman nobly born and acknowledged to be beautiful.
"I declare you have quite made a lover of him," said Lady Clavering
to her sister. When a thought of the match had first arisen in Sir
Hugh's London house, Lady Clavering had been eager in praise of Lord
Ongar, or eager in praise rather of the position which the future
Lady Ongar might hold; but since the prize had been secured, since it
had become plain that Julia was to be the greater woman of the two,
she had harped sometimes on the other string. As a sister she had
striven for a sister's welfare, but as a woman she could not keep
herself from comparisons which might tend to show that after all,
well as Julia was doing, she was not doing better than her elder
sister had done. Hermione had married simply a baronet, and not the
richest or the most amiable among baronets; but she had married a
man suitable in age and wealth, with whom any girl might have been
in love. She had not sold herself to be the nurse, or not to be the
nurse, as it might turn out, of a worn-out debauché. She would have
hinted nothing of this, perhaps have thought nothing of this, had not
Julia and Lord Ongar walked together through the Clavering groves
as though they were two young people. She owed it as a duty to her
sister to point out that Lord Ongar could not be a romantic young
person, and ought not to be encouraged to play that part.
"I don't know that I have made anything of him," answered Julia. "I
suppose he's much like other men when they're going to be married."
Julia quite understood the ideas that were passing through her
sister's mind, and did not feel them to be unnatural.
"What I mean is, that he has come out so strong in the Romeo line,
which we hardly expected, you know. We shall have him under your
bedroom window with a guitar like Don Giovanni."
"I hope not, because it's so cold. I don't think it likely, as he
seems fond of going to bed early."
"And it's the best thing for him," said Lady Clavering, becoming
serious and carefully benevolent. "It's quite a wonder what good
hours and quiet living have done for him in so short a time. I was
observing him as he walked yesterday, and he put his feet to the
ground as firmly almost as Hugh does."
"Did he indeed? I hope he won't have the habit of putting his hand
down firmly as Hugh does sometimes."
"As for that," said Lady Clavering, with a little tremor, "I don't
think there's much difference between them. They all say that when
Lord Ongar means a thing he does mean it."
"I think a man ought to have a way of his own."
"And a woman also, don't you, my dear? But, as I was saying, if Lord
Ongar will continue to take care of himself he may become quite a
different man. Hugh says that he drinks next to nothing now, and
though he sometimes lights a cigar in the smoking-room at night, he
hardly ever smokes it. You must do what you can to keep him from
tobacco. I happen to know that Sir Charles Poddy said that so many
cigars were worse for him even than brandy."
All this Julia bore with an even temper. She was determined to bear
everything till her time should come. Indeed she had made herself
understand that the hearing of such things as these was a part of the
price which she was to be called upon to pay. It was not pleasant for
her to hear what Sir Charles Poddy had said about the tobacco and
brandy of the man she was just going to marry. She would sooner have
heard of his riding sixty miles a day, or dancing all night, as she
might have heard had she been contented to take Harry Clavering. But
she had made her selection with her eyes open, and was not disposed
to quarrel with her bargain, because that which she had bought was
no better than the article which she had known it to be when she was
making her purchase. Nor was she even angry with her sister. "I will
do the best I can, Hermy; you may be sure of that. But there are some
things which it is useless to talk about."
"But it was as well you should know what Sir Charles said."
"I know quite enough of what he says, Hermy,--quite as much, I
daresay, as you do. But, never mind. If Lord Ongar has given up
smoking, I quite agree with you that it's a good thing. I wish they'd
all give it up, for I hate the smell of it. Hugh has got worse and
worse. He never cares about changing his clothes now."
"I'll tell you what it is," said Sir Hugh to his wife that night;
"sixty thousand a year is a very fine income, but Julia will find she
has caught a Tartar."
"I suppose he'll hardly live long; will he?"
"I don't know or care when he lives or when he dies; but, by heaven,
he is the most overbearing fellow I ever had in the house with me. I
wouldn't stand him here for another fortnight,--not even to make her
all safe."
"It will soon be over. They'll be gone on Thursday."
"What do you think of his having the impudence to tell
Cunliffe,"--Cunliffe was the head keeper,--"before my face, that he
didn't know anything about pheasants! 'Well, my lord, I think we've
got a few about the place,' said Cunliffe. 'Very few,' said Ongar,
with a sneer. Now, if I haven't a better head of game here than he
has at Courton, I'll eat him. But the impudence of his saying that
before me!"
"Did you make him any answer?"
"'There's about enough to suit me,' I said. Then he skulked away,
knocked off his pins. I shouldn't like to be his wife; I can tell
Julia that."
"Julia is very clever," said the sister.
The day of the marriage came, and everything at Clavering was done
with much splendour. Four bridesmaids came down from London on the
preceding day; two were already staying in the house, and the two
cousins came as two more from the rectory. Julia Brabazon had never
been really intimate with Mary and Fanny Clavering, but she had known
them well enough to make it odd if she did not ask them to come to
her wedding and to take a part in the ceremony. And, moreover, she
had thought of Harry and her little romance of other days. Harry,
perhaps, might be glad to know that she had shown this courtesy to
his sisters. Harry, she knew, would be away at his school. Though she
had asked him whether he meant to come to her wedding, she had been
better pleased that he should be absent. She had not many regrets
herself, but it pleased her to think that he should have them. So
Mary and Fanny Clavering were asked to attend her at the altar. Mary
and Fanny would both have preferred to decline, but their mother had
told them that they could not do so. "It would make ill-feeling,"
said Mrs. Clavering; "and that is what your papa particularly wishes
to avoid."
"When you say papa particularly wishes anything, mamma, you always
mean that you wish it particularly yourself," said Fanny. "But if
it must be done, it must; and then I shall know how to behave when
Mary's time comes."
The bells were rung lustily all the morning, and all the parish was
there, round about the church, to see. There was no record of a lord
ever having been married in Clavering church before; and now this
lord was going to marry my lady's sister. It was all one as though
she were a Clavering herself. But there was no ecstatic joy in the
parish. There were to be no bonfires, and no eating and drinking at
Sir Hugh's expense,--no comforts provided for any of the poor by Lady
Clavering on that special occasion. Indeed, there was never much of
such kindnesses between the lord of the soil and his dependants.
A certain stipulated dole was given at Christmas for coals and
blankets; but even for that there was generally some wrangle between
the rector and the steward. "If there's to be all this row about it,"
the rector had said to the steward, "I'll never ask for it again." "I
wish my uncle would only be as good as his word," Sir Hugh had said,
when the rector's speech was repeated to him. Therefore, there was
not much of real rejoicing in the parish on this occasion, though the
bells were rung loudly, and though the people, young and old, did
cluster round the churchyard to see the lord lead his bride out of
the church. "A puir feckless thing, tottering along like,--not half
the makings of a man. A stout lass like she could a'most blow him
away wi' a puff of her mouth." That was the verdict which an old
farmer's wife passed upon him, and that verdict was made good by the
general opinion of the parish.
[Illustration: "A puir feckless thing, tottering along like,--"]
But though the lord might be only half a man, Julia Brabazon walked
out from the church every inch a countess. Whatever price she might
have paid, she had at any rate got the thing which she had intended
to buy. And as she stepped into the chariot which carried her away to
the railway station on her way to Dover, she told herself that she
had done right. She had chosen her profession, as Harry Clavering
had chosen his; and having so far succeeded, she would do her best
to make her success perfect. Mercenary! Of course she had been
mercenary. Were not all men and women mercenary upon whom devolved
the necessity of earning their bread?
Then there was a great breakfast at the park,--for the quality,--and
the rector on this occasion submitted himself to become the guest of
the nephew whom he thoroughly disliked.