The Eustace Necklace
John Eustace, Lady Eustace's brother-in-law, had told his friend
Greystock, the lady's cousin, that Mr. Camperdown the lawyer intended
to "jump upon" that lady. Making such allowance and deduction from
the force of these words as the slang expression requires, we may say
that John Eustace was right. Mr. Camperdown was in earnest, and did
intend to obtain the restoration of those jewels. Mr. Camperdown
was a gentleman of about sixty, who had been lawyer to Sir
Florian's father, and whose father had been lawyer to Sir Florian's
grandfather. His connexion with the property and with the family
was of a nature to allow him to take almost any liberty with the
Eustaces. When therefore John Eustace, in regard to those diamonds,
had pleaded that the heir in his long minority would obtain ample
means of buying more diamonds, and of suggesting that the plunder for
the sake of tranquillity should be allowed, Mr. Camperdown took upon
himself to say that he'd "be ---- if he'd put up with it!" "I really
don't know what you are to do," said John Eustace.
"I'll file a bill in Chancery if it's necessary," said the old
lawyer. "Heaven on earth! as trustee how are you to reconcile
yourself to such a robbery? They represent £500 a year for ever, and
she is to have them simply because she chooses to take them!"
"I suppose Florian could have given them away. At any rate he could
have sold them."
"I don't know that," said Mr. Camperdown. "I have not looked as yet,
but I think that this necklace has been made an heirloom. At any rate
it represents an amount of property that shouldn't and couldn't be
made over legally without some visible evidence of transfer. It's
as clear a case of stealing as I ever knew in my life, and as bad
a case. She hadn't a farthing, and she has got the whole of the
Ayrshire property for her life. She goes about and tells everybody
that it's hers to sell to-morrow if she pleases to sell it! No,
John;--" Mr. Camperdown had known Eustace when he was a boy, and had
watched him become a man, and hadn't yet learned to drop the name by
which he had called the boy,--"we mustn't allow it. What do you think
of her applying to me for an income to support her child,--a baby not
yet two years old?" Mr. Camperdown had been very adverse to all the
circumstances of Sir Florian's marriage, and had subjected himself to
Sir Florian's displeasure for expressing his opinion. He had tried to
explain that as the lady brought no money into the family she was not
entitled to such a jointure as Sir Florian was determined to lavish
upon her. But Sir Florian had been obstinate,--both in regard to the
settlement and the will. It was not till after Sir Florian's death
that this terrible matter of the jewels had even suggested itself to
Mr. Camperdown. The jewellers in whose custody the things had been
since the death of the late Lady Eustace had mentioned the affair to
him immediately on the young widow's return from Naples. Sir Florian
had withdrawn, not all the jewels, but by far the most valuable of
them, from the jewellers' care on his return to London from their
marriage tour to Scotland, and this was the result. The jewellers
were at that time without any doubt as to the date at which the
necklace was taken from them.
Mr. Camperdown's first attempt was made by a most courteous and even
complimentary note, in which he suggested to Lady Eustace that it
would be for the advantage of all parties that the family jewels
should be kept together. Lizzie as she read this note smiled, and
said to herself that she did not exactly see how her own interests
would be best served by such an arrangement. She made no answer to
Mr. Camperdown's note. Some months after this, when the heir was
born, and as Lady Eustace was passing through London on her journey
from Bobsborough to Portray, a meeting had been arranged between her
and Mr. Camperdown. She had endeavoured by all the wiles she knew to
avoid this meeting, but it had been forced upon her. She had been
almost given to understand that unless she submitted to it, she would
not be able to draw her income from the Portray property. Messrs.
Mowbray and Mopus had advised her to submit. "My husband gave me a
necklace, and they want me to give it back," she had said to Mr.
Mopus. "Do nothing of the kind," Mr. Mopus had replied. "If you find
it necessary, refer Mr. Camperdown to us. We will answer him." The
interview had taken place, during which Mr. Camperdown took the
trouble to explain very plainly and more than once that the income
from the Portray property belonged to Lady Eustace for her life
only. It would after her death be rejoined, of necessity, to the
rest of the Eustace property. This was repeated to Lady Eustace
in the presence of John Eustace; but she made no remark on being
so informed. "You understand the nature of the settlement, Lady
Eustace?" Mr. Camperdown had said. "I believe I understand
everything," she replied. Then, just at the close of the interview,
he asked a question about the jewels. Lady Eustace at first made no
reply. "They might as well be sent back to Messrs. Garnett's," said
Mr. Camperdown. "I don't know that I have any to send back," she
answered; and then she escaped before Mr. Camperdown was able to
arrange any further attack. "I can manage with her better by letter
than I can personally," he said to John Eustace.
Lawyers such as Mr. Camperdown are slow, and it was three or four
months after that when he wrote a letter in his own name to Lady
Eustace, explaining to her, still courteously, that it was his
business to see that the property of the Eustace family was placed in
fit hands, and that a certain valuable necklace of diamonds, which
was an heirloom of the family, and which was undeniably the property
of the heir, was believed to be in her custody. As such property was
peculiarly subject to risks, would she have the kindness to make
arrangements for handing over the necklace to the custody of the
Messrs. Garnett? To this letter Lizzie made no answer whatever, nor
did she to a second note, calling attention to the first. When John
Eustace told Greystock that Camperdown intended to "jump on" Lady
Eustace, the following further letter had been written by the
firm;--but up to that time Lizzie had not replied to it:
62, New Square, Lincoln's Inn,
May 5, 186--.
MADAM,
It is our duty as attorneys acting on behalf of the estate
of your late husband Sir Florian Eustace, and in the
interest of your son, his heir, to ask for restitution
of a certain valuable diamond necklace which is believed
to be now in the possession of your ladyship. Our senior
partner, Mr. Camperdown, has written to your ladyship more
than once on the subject, but has not been honoured with
any reply. Doubtless had there been any mistake as to
the necklace being in your hands we should have been
so informed. The diamonds were withdrawn from Messrs.
Garnett's, the jewellers, by Sir Florian soon after his
marriage, and were, no doubt, entrusted to your keeping.
They are appanages of the family which should not be in
your hands as the widow of the late baronet, and they
constitute an amount of property which certainly cannot
be alienated from the family without inquiry or right, as
might any trifling article either of use or ornament. The
jewels are valued at over £10,000.
We are reluctantly compelled, by the fact of your having
left unanswered three letters from Mr. Camperdown, Senior,
on the subject, to explain to you that if attention be
not paid to this letter, we shall be obliged, in the
performance of our duty, to take legal steps for the
restitution of the property.
We have the honour to be,
Madam,
Your ladyship's most obedient servants,
CAMPERDOWN & SON.
To Lady Eustace.
&c. &c.
A few days after it was sent old Mr. Camperdown got the letter-book
of the office and read the letter to John Eustace.
"I don't see how you're to get them," said Eustace.
"We'll throw upon her the burthen of showing that they have become
legally her property. She can't do it."
"Suppose she sold them?"
"We'll follow them up. £10,000, my dear John! God bless my soul! it's
a magnificent dowry for a daughter,--an ample provision for a younger
son. And she is to be allowed to filch it, as other widows filch
china cups, and a silver teaspoon or two! It's quite a common thing,
but I never heard of such a haul as this."
"It will be very unpleasant," said Eustace.
"And then she still goes about everywhere declaring that the Portray
property is her own. She's a bad lot. I knew it from the first. Of
course we shall have trouble." Then Mr. Eustace explained to the
lawyer that their best way out of it all would be to get the widow
married to some respectable husband. She was sure to marry sooner or
later,--so John Eustace said,--and any "decently decent" fellow would
be easier to deal with than she herself. "He must be very indecently
indecent if he is not," said Mr. Camperdown. But Mr. Eustace did not
name Frank Greystock the barrister as the probable future decent
husband.
When Lizzie first got the letter, which she did on the day after the
visit at Fawn Court of which mention has been made, she put it by
unread for a couple of days. She opened it, not knowing the clerk's
handwriting, but read only the first line and the signature. For two
days she went on with the ordinary affairs and amusements of her
life, as though no such letter had reached her; but she was thinking
of it all the time. The diamonds were in her possession, and she had
had them valued by her old friend Mr. Benjamin--of the firm of Harter
and Benjamin. Mr. Benjamin had suggested that stones of such a value
should not be left to the risk of an ordinary London house; but
Lizzie had felt that if Mr. Benjamin got them into his hands, Mr.
Benjamin might perhaps not return them. Messrs. Camperdown and
Garnett between them might form a league with Mr. Benjamin. Where
would she be, should Mr. Benjamin tell her that under some legal
sanction he had given the jewels up to Mr. Camperdown? She hinted
to Mr. Benjamin that she would perhaps sell them if she got a good
offer. Mr. Benjamin, who was very familiar with her, hinted that
there might be a little family difficulty. "Oh, none in the least,"
said Lizzie;--"but I don't think I shall part with them." Then she
gave Mr. Benjamin an order for a strong box, which was supplied to
her. The strong box, which was so heavy that she could barely lift it
herself, was now in her London bedroom.
On the morning of the third day she read the letter. Miss Macnulty
was staying with her, but she had not said a word to Miss Macnulty
about the letter. She read it up in her own bedroom, and then sat
down to think about it. Sir Florian, as he had handed to her the
stones for the purpose of a special dinner party which had been
given to them when passing through London, had told her that they
were family jewels. "That setting was done for my mother," he said,
"but it is already old. When we are at home again they shall be
reset." Then he had added some little husband's joke as to a future
daughter-in-law who should wear them. Nevertheless she was not sure
whether the fact of their being so handed to her did not make them
her own. She had spoken a second time to Mr. Mopus, and Mr. Mopus had
asked her whether there existed any family deed as to the diamonds.
She had heard of no such deed, nor did Mr. Camperdown mention such a
deed. After reading the letter once she read it a dozen times; and
then, like a woman, made up her mind that her safest course would be
not to answer it.
But yet she felt sure that something unpleasant would come of it. Mr.
Camperdown was not a man to take up such a question and to let it
drop. Legal steps! What did legal steps mean, and what could they do
to her? Would Mr. Camperdown be able to put her in prison,--or to
take away from her the estate of Portray? She could swear that her
husband had given them to her, and could invent any form of words
she pleased as accompanying the gift. No one else had been near them
then. But she was, and felt herself to be absolutely, alarmingly
ignorant, not only of the laws, but of custom in such matters.
Messrs. Mowbray and Mopus and Mr. Benjamin were the allies to whom
she looked for guidance; but she was wise enough to know that
Mowbray and Mopus, and Harter and Benjamin were not trustworthy,
whereas Camperdown and Son and the Messrs. Garnett were all
as firm as rocks and as respectable as the Bank of England.
Circumstances,--unfortunate circumstances,--drove her to Harter and
Benjamin and to Mowbray and Mopus, while she would have taken so much
delight in feeling the strong honesty of the other people to be on
her side! She would have talked to her friends about Mr. Camperdown
and the people at Garnett's with so much satisfaction! But ease,
security, and even respectability may be bought too dearly. Ten
thousand pounds! Was she prepared to surrender such a sum as that?
She had, indeed, already realised the fact that it might be very
difficult to touch the money. When she had suggested to Mr. Benjamin
that he should buy the jewels, that worthy tradesman had by no means
jumped at the offer. Of what use to her would be a necklace always
locked up in an iron box, which box, for aught she knew, myrmidons
from Mr. Camperdown might carry off during her absence from the
house? Would it not be better to come to terms and surrender? But
then what should the terms be?
If only there had been a friend whom she could consult; a friend
whom she could consult on a really friendly footing!--not a simply
respectable, off-handed, high-minded friend, who would advise her as
a matter of course to make restitution. Her uncle the dean, or her
cousin Frank, or old Lady Fawn, would be sure to give her such advice
as that. There are people who are so very high-minded when they have
to deal with the interests of their friends! What if she were to ask
Lord Fawn?
Thoughts of a second marriage had, of course, crossed Lady Eustace's
mind, and they were by no means the worst thoughts that found a place
there. She had a grand idea,--this selfish, hard-fisted little woman,
who could not bring herself to abandon the plunder on which she had
laid her hand,--a grand idea of surrendering herself and all her
possessions to a great passion. For Florian Eustace she had never
cared. She had sat down by his side, and looked into his handsome
face, and read poetry to him,--because of his wealth, and because
it had been indispensable to her to settle herself well. And he had
been all very well,--a generous, open-hearted, chivalrous, irascible,
but rather heavy-minded gentleman; but she had never been in love
with him. Now she desired to be so in love that she could surrender
everything to her love. There was as yet nothing of such love in her
bosom. She had seen no one who had so touched her. But she was alive
to the romance of the thing, and was in love with the idea of being
in love. "Ah," she would say to herself in her moments of solitude,
"if I had a Corsair of my own, how I would sit on watch for my
lover's boat by the sea-shore!" And she believed it of herself, that
she could do so.
But it would also be very nice to be a peeress,--so that she might,
without any doubt, be one of the great ladies of London. As a
baronet's widow with a large income, she was already almost a great
lady; but she was quite alive to a suspicion that she was not
altogether strong in her position. The bishop's people and the dean's
people did not quite trust her. The Camperdowns and Garnetts utterly
distrusted her. The Mopuses and Benjamins were more familiar than
they would be with a really great lady. She was sharp enough to
understand all this. Should it be Lord Fawn or should it be a
Corsair? The worst of Lord Fawn was the undoubted fact that he was
not himself a great man. He could, no doubt, make his wife a peeress;
but he was poor, encumbered with a host of sisters, dull as a
blue-book, and possessed of little beyond his peerage to recommend
him. If she could only find a peer, unmarried, with a dash of the
Corsair about him! In the meantime, what was she to do about the
jewels?
There was staying with her at this time a certain Miss Macnulty, who
was related, after some distant fashion, to old Lady Linlithgow, and
who was as utterly destitute of possessions or means of existence
as any unfortunate, well-born, and moderately-educated, middle-aged
woman in London. To live upon her friends, such as they might be,
was the only mode of life within her reach. It was not that she had
chosen such dependence; nor, indeed, had she endeavoured to reject
it. It had come to her as a matter of course,--either that or the
poor-house. As to earning her bread, except by that attendance which
a poor friend gives,--the idea of any possibility that way had never
entered her head. She could do nothing,--except dress like a lady
with the smallest possible cost, and endeavour to be obliging.
Now, at this moment, her condition was terribly precarious. She
had quarrelled with Lady Linlithgow, and had been taken in by
her old friend Lizzie,--her old enemy might, perhaps, be a truer
expression,--because of that quarrel. But a permanent home had not
even been promised to her; and poor Miss Macnulty was aware that even
a permanent home with Lady Eustace would not be an unmixed blessing.
In her way, Miss Macnulty was an honest woman.
They were sitting together one May afternoon in the little back
drawing-room in Mount Street. They had dined early, were now drinking
tea, and intended to go to the opera. It was six o'clock, and was
still broad day, but the thick coloured blind was kept across the
single window, and the folding doors of the room were nearly closed,
and there was a feeling of evening in the room. The necklace during
the whole day had been so heavy on Lizzie's heart, that she had been
unable to apply her thoughts to the building of that castle in the
air in which the Corsair was to reign supreme, but not alone. "My
dear," she said,--she generally called Miss Macnulty my dear,--"you
know that box I had made by the jewellers."
"You mean the safe."
"Well,--yes; only it isn't a safe. A safe is a great big thing. I had
it made especially for the diamonds Sir Florian gave me."
"I supposed it was so."
"I wonder whether there's any danger about it?"
"If I were you, Lady Eustace, I wouldn't keep them in the house. I
should have them kept where Sir Florian kept them. Suppose anybody
should come and murder you!"
"I'm not a bit afraid of that," said Lizzie.
"I should be. And what will you do with it when you go to Scotland?"
"I took them with me before;--in my own care. I know that wasn't
safe. I wish I knew what to do with them!"
"There are people who keep such things," said Miss Macnulty.
Then Lizzie paused a moment. She was dying for counsel and for
confidence. "I cannot trust them anywhere," she said. "It is just
possible there may be a lawsuit about them."
"How a lawsuit?"
"I cannot explain it all, but I am very unhappy about it. They want
me to give them up;--but my husband gave them to me, and for his
sake I will not do so. When he threw them round my neck he told me
that they were my own;--so he did. How can a woman give up such a
present,--from a husband,--who is dead? As to the value, I care
nothing. But I won't do it." By this time Lady Eustace was in tears,
and had so far succeeded as to have produced some amount of belief in
Miss Macnulty's mind.
"If they are your own, they can't take them from you," said Miss
Macnulty.
"They sha'n't. They shall find that I've got some spirit left." Then
she reflected that a real Corsair lover would protect her jewels
for her;--would guard them against a score of Camperdowns. But she
doubted whether Lord Fawn would do much in that way. Then the door
was opened, and Lord Fawn was announced. It was not at all unusual
with Lord Fawn to call on the widow at this hour. Mount Street is not
exactly in the way from the India Office to the House of Lords; but
a Hansom cab can make it almost in the way. Of neglect of official
duty Lord Fawn was never guilty; but a half hour for private business
or for relaxation between one stage of duty and another,--can any
Minister grudge so much to an indefatigable follower? Lady Eustace
had been in tears as he was announced, but the light of the room was
so low that the traces of them could hardly be seen. She was in her
Corsair state of mind, divided between her jewels and her poetry, and
caring not very much for the increased rank which Lord Fawn could
give her. "The Sawab's case is coming on in the House of Commons this
very night," he said, in answer to a question from Miss Macnulty.
Then he turned to Lady Eustace. "Your cousin, Mr. Greystock, is going
to ask a question in the House."
"Shall you be there to answer him?" asked Miss Macnulty innocently.
"Oh dear, no. But I shall be present. A peer can go, you know."
Then Lord Fawn, at considerable length, explained to the two ladies
the nature and condition of the British Parliament. Miss Macnulty
experienced an innocent pleasure in having such things told to her by
a lord. Lady Eustace knew that this was the way in which Lord Fawn
made love, and thought that from him it was as good as any other way.
If she were to marry a second time simply with the view of being a
peeress, of having a respected husband, and making good her footing
in the world, she would as lief listen to parliamentary details and
the prospects of the Sawab as to any other matters. She knew very
well that no Corsair propensities would be forthcoming from Lord
Fawn. Lord Fawn had just worked himself round to the Sawab again,
when Frank Greystock entered the room. "Now we have both the Houses
represented," said Lady Eustace, as she welcomed her cousin.
"You intend to ask your question about the Sawab to-night?" asked
Lord Fawn, with intense interest, feeling that, had it been his lot
to perform that task before he went to his couch, he would at this
moment have been preparing his little speech.
But Frank Greystock had not come to his cousin's house to talk of
the Prince of the Mygawb territory. When his friend Eustace had
suggested to him that he should marry the widow, he had ridiculed
the idea;--but nevertheless he had thought of it a good deal. He was
struggling hard, working diligently, making for himself a character
in Parliament, succeeding,--so said all his friends,--as a barrister.
He was a rising young man, one of those whose names began to be much
in the mouths of other men;--but still he was poor. It seemed to
himself that among other good gifts that of economy had not been
bestowed upon him. He owed a little money, and though he owed it,
he went on spending his earnings. He wanted just such a lift in the
world as a wife with an income would give him. As for looking about
for a girl whom he could honestly love, and who should have a fortune
of her own as well as beauty, birth, and all the other things,--that
was out of his reach. If he talked to himself of love, if he were
ever to acknowledge to himself that love was to have sway over him,
then must Lucy Morris be the mistress of his heart. He had come to
know enough about himself to be aware of that;--but he knew also
that he had said nothing binding him to walk in that path. It was
quite open to him to indulge a discreet ambition without dishonour.
Therefore he also had come to call upon the beautiful widow. The
courtship with her he knew need not be long. He could ask her to
marry him to-morrow,--as for that matter to-day,--without a feeling
of hesitation. She might accept him or might reject him; but, as he
said to himself, in neither case would any harm be done.
An idea of the same kind flitted across Lizzie's mind as she sat
and talked to the two gentlemen. She knew that her cousin Frank was
poor, but she thought that she could fall in love with him. He was
not exactly a Corsair;--but he was a man who had certain Corsair
propensities. He was bold and dashing, unscrupulous and clever, a man
to make a name for himself, and one to whom a woman could endure to
be obedient. There could be no question as to choice between him and
Lord Fawn, if she were to allow herself to choose by liking. And she
thought that Frank Greystock would keep the necklace, if he himself
were made to have an interest in the necklace; whereas Lord Fawn
would undoubtedly surrender it at once to Mr. Camperdown.
Lord Fawn had some slight idea of waiting to see the cousin go; but
as Greystock had a similar idea, and as he was the stronger of the
two, of course Lord Fawn went. He perhaps remembered that the Hansom
cab was at the door,--costing sixpence every fifteen minutes,--and
that he wished to show himself in the House of Lords before the peers
rose. Miss Macnulty also left the room, and Frank was alone with the
widow. "Lizzie," said he, "you must be very solitary here."
"I am solitary."
"And hardly happy."
"Anything but happy, Frank. I have things that make me very
unhappy;--one thing that I will tell you if you will let me." Frank
had almost made up his mind to ask her on the spot to give him
permission to console all her sorrows, when there came a clattering
double-knock at the door. "They know I shall be at home to nobody
else now," said Lady Eustace. But Frank Greystock had hardly regained
his self-possession when Miss Macnulty hurried into the room, and,
with a look almost of horror, declared that Lady Linlithgow was in
the parlour.