"LET HER KNOW THAT YOU'RE THERE."
A week had passed since the evening which Harry had spent in Bolton
Street, and he had not again seen Lady Ongar. He had professed to
himself that his reason for not going there was the non-performance
of the commission which Lady Ongar had given him with reference
to Count Pateroff. He had not yet succeeded in catching the count,
though he had twice asked for him in Mount Street and twice at the
club in Pall Mall. It appeared that the count never went to Mount
Street, and was very rarely seen at the club. There was some other
club which he frequented, and Harry did not know what club. On both
the occasions of Harry's calling in Mount Street, the servant had
asked him to go up and see madame; but he had declined to do so,
pleading that he was hurried. He was, however, driven to resolve that
he must go direct to Sophie, as otherwise he could find no means of
doing as he had promised. She probably might put him on the scent of
her brother.
But there had been another reason why Harry had not gone to Bolton
Street, though he had not acknowledged it to himself. He did not
dare to trust himself with Lady Ongar. He feared that he would be
led on to betray himself and to betray Florence,--to throw himself
at Julia's feet and sacrifice his honesty, in spite of all his
resolutions to the contrary. He felt when there as the accustomed but
repentant dram-drinker might feel, when having resolved to abstain,
he is called upon to sit with the full glass offered before his lips.
From such temptation as that the repentant dram-drinker knows that
he must fly. But though he did not go after the fire-water of Bolton
Street, neither was he able to satisfy himself with the cool fountain
of Onslow Crescent. He was wretched at this time,--ill-satisfied with
himself and others, and was no fitting companion for Cecilia Burton.
The world, he thought, had used him ill. He could have been true to
Julia Brabazon when she was well-nigh penniless. It was not for her
money that he had regarded her. Had he been now a free man,--free
from those chains with which he had fettered himself at Stratton,--he
would again have asked this woman for her love, in spite of her past
treachery; but it would have been for her love and not for her money
that he would have sought her. Was it his fault that he had loved
her, that she had been false to him, and that she had now come back
and thrown herself before him? Or had he been wrong because he had
ventured to think that he loved another when Julia had deserted him?
Or could he help himself if he now found that his love in truth
belonged to her whom he had known first? The world had been very
cruel to him, and he could not go to Onslow Crescent and behave there
prettily, hearing the praises of Florence with all the ardour of a
discreet lover.
He knew well what would have been his right course, and yet he did
not follow it. Let him but once communicate to Lady Ongar the fact of
his engagement, and the danger would be over, though much, perhaps,
of the misery might remain. Let him write to her and mention the
fact, bringing it up as some little immaterial accident, and she
would understand what he meant. But this he abstained from doing.
Though he swore to himself that he would not touch the dram, he would
not dash down the full glass that was held to his lips. He went
about the town very wretchedly, looking for the count, and regarding
himself as a man specially marked out for sorrow by the cruel hand of
misfortune. Lady Ongar, in the meantime, was expecting him, and was
waxing angry and becoming bitter towards him because he came not.
Sir Hugh Clavering was now up in London, and with him was his brother
Archie. Sir Hugh was a man who strained an income, that was handsome
and sufficient for a country gentleman, to the very utmost, wanting
to get out of it more than it could be made to give. He was not a man
to be in debt, or indulge himself with present pleasures to be paid
for out of the funds of future years. He was possessed of a worldly
wisdom which kept him from that folly, and taught him to appreciate
fully the value of independence. But he was ever remembering how many
shillings there are in a pound, and how many pence in a shilling. He
had a great eye to discount, and looked very closely into his bills.
He searched for cheap shops;--and some men began to say of him that
he had found a cheap establishment for such wines as he did not drink
himself! In playing cards and in betting he was very careful, never
playing high, never risking much, but hoping to turn something by the
end of the year, and angry with himself if he had not done so. An
unamiable man he was, but one whose heir would probably not quarrel
with him,--if only he would die soon enough. He had always had a
house in town, a moderate house in Berkeley Square, which belonged
to him and had belonged to his father before him. Lady Clavering
had usually lived there during the season; or, as had latterly been
the case, during only a part of the season. And now it had come to
pass, in this year, that Lady Clavering was not to come to London at
all, and that Sir Hugh was meditating whether the house in Berkeley
Square might not be let. The arrangement would make the difference
of considerably more than a thousand a year to him. For himself, he
would take lodgings. He had no idea of giving up London in the spring
and early summer. But why keep up a house in Berkeley Square, as Lady
Clavering did not use it?
He was partly driven to this by a desire to shake off the burden of
his brother. When Archie chose to go to Clavering the house was open
to him. That was the necessity of Sir Hugh's position, and he could
not avoid it unless he made it worth his while to quarrel with his
brother. Archie was obedient, ringing the bell when he was told,
looking after the horses, spying about, and perhaps saving as much
money as he cost. But the matter was very different in Berkeley
Square. No elder brother is bound to find breakfast and bed for a
younger brother in London. And yet from his boyhood upwards Archie
had made good his footing in Berkeley Square. In the matter of the
breakfast, Sir Hugh had indeed of late got the better of him. The
servants were kept on board wages, and there were no household
accounts. But there was Archie's room, and Sir Hugh felt this to be a
hardship.
The present was not the moment for actually driving forth the
intruder, for Archie was now up in London, especially under his
brother's auspices. And if the business on which Captain Clavering
was now intent could be brought to a successful issue, the standing
in the world of that young man would be very much altered. Then he
would be a brother of whom Sir Hugh might be proud; a brother who
would pay his way, and settle his points at whist if he lost them,
even to a brother. If Archie could induce Lady Ongar to marry him, he
would not be called upon any longer to ring the bells and look after
the stable. He would have bells of his own, and stables too, and
perhaps some captain of his own to ring them and look after them. The
expulsion, therefore, was not to take place till Archie should have
made his attempt upon Lady Ongar.
But Sir Hugh would admit of no delay, whereas Archie himself seemed
to think that the iron was not yet quite hot enough for striking. It
would be better, he had suggested, to postpone the work till Julia
could be coaxed down to Clavering in the autumn. He could do the work
better, he thought, down at Clavering than in London. But Sir Hugh
was altogether of a different opinion. Though he had already asked
his sister-in-law to Clavering, when the idea had first come up, he
was glad that she had declined the visit. Her coming might be very
well if she accepted Archie; but he did not want to be troubled with
any renewal of his responsibility respecting her, if, as was more
probable, she should reject him. The world still looked askance at
Lady Ongar, and Hugh did not wish to take up the armour of a paladin
in her favour. If Archie married her, Archie would be the paladin;
though, indeed, in that case, no paladin would be needed.
"She has only been a widow, you know, four months," said Archie,
pleading for delay. "It won't be delicate, will it?"
"Delicate!" said Sir Hugh. "I don't know whether there is much of
delicacy in it at all."
"I don't see why she isn't to be treated like any other woman. If you
were to die, you'd think it very odd if any fellow came up to Hermy
before the season was over."
"Archie, you are a fool," said Sir Hugh; and Archie could see by his
brother's brow that Hugh was angry. "You say things that for folly
and absurdity are beyond belief. If you can't see the peculiarities
of Julia's position, I am not going to point them out to you."
"She is peculiar, of course,--having so much money, and that place
near Guildford, all her own for her life. Of course it's peculiar.
But four months, Hugh!"
"If it had been four days it need have made no difference. A home,
with some one to support her, is everything to her. If you wait till
lots of fellows are buzzing round her you won't have a chance. You'll
find that by this time next year she'll be the top of the fashion;
and if not engaged to you, she will be to some one else. I shouldn't
be surprised if Harry were after her again."
"He's engaged to that girl we saw down at Clavering."
"What matters that? Engagements can be broken as well as made. You
have this great advantage over every one, except him, that you can go
to her at once without doing anything out of the way. That girl that
Harry has in tow may perhaps keep him away for some time."
"I tell you what, Hugh, you might as well call with me the first
time."
"So that I may quarrel with her, which I certainly should do,--or,
rather, she with me. No, Archie; if you're afraid to go alone, you'd
better give it up."
"Afraid! I'm not afraid!"
"She can't eat you. Remember that with her you needn't stand on your
p's and q's, as you would with another woman. She knows what she is
about, and will understand what she has to get as well as what she is
expected to give. All I can say is, that if she accepts you, Hermy
will consent that she shall go to Clavering as much as she pleases
till the marriage takes place. It couldn't be done, I suppose, till
after a year; and in that case she shall be married at Clavering."
Here was a prospect for Julia Brabazon;--to be led to the same altar,
at which she had married Lord Ongar, by Archie Clavering, twelve
months after her first husband's death, and little more than two
years after her first wedding! The peculiarity of the position did
not quite make itself apparent either to Hugh or to Archie; but there
was one point which did suggest itself to the younger brother at that
moment.
"I don't suppose there was anything really wrong, eh?"
"Can't say, I'm sure," said Sir Hugh.
"Because I shouldn't like--"
"If I were you I wouldn't trouble myself about that. Judge not, that
you be not judged."
"Yes, that's true, to be sure," said Archie; and on that point he
went forth satisfied.
But the job before him was a peculiar job, and that Archie well
knew. In some inexplicable manner he put himself into the scales and
weighed himself, and discovered his own weight with fair accuracy.
And he put her into the scales, and he found that she was much
the heavier of the two. How he did this,--how such men as Archie
Clavering do do it,--I cannot say; but they do weigh themselves, and
know their own weight, and shove themselves aside as being too light
for any real service in the world. This they do, though they may
fluster with their voices, and walk about with their noses in the
air, and swing their canes, and try to look as large as they may.
They do not look large, and they know it; and consequently they ring
the bells, and look after the horses, and shove themselves on one
side, so that the heavier weights may come forth and do the work.
Archie Clavering, who had duly weighed himself, could hardly bring
himself to believe that Lady Ongar would be fool enough to marry him!
Seven thousand a year, with a park and farm in Surrey, and give it
all to him,--him, Archie Clavering, who had, so to say, no weight at
all! Archie Clavering, for one, could not bring himself to believe
it.
But yet Hermy, her sister, thought it possible; and though Hermy was,
as Archie had found out by his invisible scales, lighter than Julia,
still she must know something of her sister's nature. And Hugh, who
was by no means light,--who was a man of weight, with money and
position and firm ground beneath his feet,--he also thought that
it might be so. "Faint heart never won a fair lady," said Archie
to himself a dozen times, as he walked down to the Rag. The Rag
was his club, and there was a friend there whom he could consult
confidentially. No; faint heart never won a fair lady; but they
who repeat to themselves that adage, trying thereby to get courage,
always have faint hearts for such work. Harry Clavering never thought
of the proverb when he went a-wooing.
But Captain Boodle of the Rag,--for Captain Boodle always lived at
the Rag when he was not at Newmarket, or at other racecourses, or in
the neighbourhood of Market Harborough,--Captain Boodle knew a thing
or two, and Captain Boodle was his fast friend. He would go to Boodle
and arrange the campaign with him. Boodle had none of that hectoring,
domineering way which Hugh never quite threw off in his intercourse
with his brother. And Archie, as he went along, resolved that when
Lady Ongar's money was his, and when he had a countess for his wife,
he would give his elder brother a cold shoulder.
Boodle was playing pool at the Rag, and Archie joined him; but
pool is a game which hardly admits of confidential intercourse as
to proposed wives, and Archie was obliged to remain quiet on that
subject all the afternoon. He cunningly, however, lost a little money
to Boodle, for Boodle liked to win,--and engaged himself to dine
at the same table with his friend. Their dinner they ate almost
in silence,--unless when they abused the cook, or made to each
other some pithy suggestion as to the expediency of this or that
delicacy,--bearing always steadily in view the cost as well as
desirability of the viands. Boodle had no shame in not having this
or that because it was dear. To dine with the utmost luxury at the
smallest expense was a proficiency belonging to him, and of which he
was very proud.
But after a while the cloth was gone, and the heads of the two men
were brought near together over the small table. Boodle did not speak
a word till his brother captain had told his story, had pointed out
all the advantages to be gained, explained in what peculiar way the
course lay open to himself, and made the whole thing clear to his
friend's eye.
"They say she's been a little queer, don't they?" said the friendly
counsellor.
"Of course people talk, you know."
"Talk, yes; they're talking a doosed sight, I should say. There's no
mistake about the money, I suppose?"
"Oh, none," said Archie, shaking his head vigorously. "Hugh managed
all that for her, so I know it."
"She don't lose any of it because she enters herself for running
again, does she?"
"Not a shilling. That's the beauty of it."
"Was you ever sweet on her before?"
"What! before Ongar took her? O laws, no. She hadn't a rap, you
know;--and knew how to spend money as well as any girl in London."
"It's all to begin then, Clavvy; all the up-hill work to be done?"
"Well, yes; I don't know about up-hill, Doodles. What do you mean by
up-hill?"
"I mean that seven thousand a year ain't usually to be picked up
merely by trotting easy along the flat. And this sort of work is
very up-hill generally, I take it;--unless, you know, a fellow has a
fancy for it. If a fellow is really sweet on a girl, he likes it, I
suppose."
"She's a doosed handsome woman, you know, Doodles."
"I don't know anything about it, except that I suppose Ongar wouldn't
have taken her if she hadn't stood well on her pasterns, and had
some breeding about her. I never thought much of her sister,--your
brother's wife, you know,--that is in the way of looks. No doubt she
runs straight, and that's a great thing. She won't go the wrong side
of the post."
"As for running straight, let me alone for that."
"Well, now, Clavvy, I'll tell you what my ideas are. When a man's
trying a young filly, his hands can't be too light. A touch too much
will bring her on her haunches, or throw her out of her step. She
should hardly feel the iron in her mouth. That's the sort of work
which requires a man to know well what he's about. But when I've got
to do with a trained mare, I always choose that she shall know that
I'm there! Do you understand me?"
"Yes; I understand you, Doodles."
"I always choose that she shall know that I'm there." And Captain
Boodle, as he repeated these manly words with a firm voice, put out
his hands as though he were handling the horse's rein. "Their mouths
are never so fine then, and they generally want to be brought up
to the bit, d'ye see?--up to the bit. When a mare has been trained
to her work, and knows what she's at in her running, she's all the
better for feeling a fellow's hands as she's going. She likes it
rather. It gives her confidence, and makes her know where she is. And
look here, Clavvy, when she comes to her fences, give her her head;
but steady her first, and make her know that you're there. Damme;
whatever you do, let her know that you're there. There's nothing like
it. She'll think all the more of the fellow that's piloting her. And
look here, Clavvy; ride her with spurs. Always ride a trained mare
with spurs. Let her know that they're on; and if she tries to get her
head, give 'em her. Yes, by George, give 'em her." And Captain Boodle
in his energy twisted himself in his chair, and brought his heel
round, so that it could be seen by Archie. Then he produced a sharp
click with his tongue, and made the peculiar jerk with the muscle
of his legs, whereby he was accustomed to evoke the agility of his
horses. After that he looked triumphantly at his friend. "Give 'em
her, Clavvy, and she'll like you the better for it. She'll know then
that you mean it."
It was thus that Captain Boodle instructed his friend Archie
Clavering how to woo Lady Ongar; and Archie, as he listened to his
friend's words of wisdom, felt that he had learned a great deal.
"That's the way I'll do it, Doodles," he said, "and upon my word I'm
very much obliged to you."
"That's the way, you may depend on it. Let her know that you're
there.--Let her know that you're there. She's done the filly work
before, you see; and it's no good trying that again."
Captain Clavering really believed that he had learned a good deal,
and that he now knew the way to set about the work before him. What
sort of spurs he was to use, and how he was to put them on, I don't
think he did know; but that was a detail as to which he did not think
it necessary to consult his adviser. He sat the whole evening in the
smoking-room, very silent, drinking slowly iced gin-and-water; and
the more he drank the more assured he felt that he now understood the
way in which he was to attempt the work before him. "Let her know
I'm there," he said to himself, shaking his head gently, so that no
one should observe him; "yes, let her know I'm there." At this time
Captain Boodle, or Doodles as he was familiarly called, had again
ascended to the billiard-room and was hard at work. "Let her know
that I'm there," repeated Archie, mentally. Everything was contained
in that precept. And he, with his hands before him on his knees, went
through the process of steadying a horse with the snaffle-rein, just
touching the curb, as he did so, for security. It was but a motion of
his fingers and no one could see it, but it made him confident that
he had learned his lesson. "Up to the bit," he repeated; "by George,
yes; up to the bit. There's nothing like it for a trained mare. Give
her head, but steady her." And Archie, as the words passed across his
memory and were almost pronounced, seemed to be flying successfully
over some prodigious fence. He leaned himself back a little in the
saddle, and seemed to hold firm with his legs. That was the way to
do it. And then the spurs! He would not forget the spurs. She should
know that he wore a spur, and that, if necessary, he would use it.
Then he, too, gave a little click with his tongue, and an acute
observer might have seen the motion of his heel.
Two hours after that he was still sitting in the smoking-room,
chewing the end of a cigar, when Doodles came down victorious from
the billiard-room. Archie was half asleep, and did not notice the
entrance of his friend. "Let her know that you're there," said
Doodles, close into Archie Clavering's ear,--"damme, let her know
that you're there." Archie started and did not like the surprise, or
the warm breath in his ear; but he forgave the offence for the wisdom
of the words that had been spoken.
Then he walked home by himself, repeating again and again the
invaluable teachings of his friend.