The Conquering Hero Comes
The reader will perhaps remember that when Lizzie Eustace was told
that her aunt was down-stairs Frank Greystock was with her, and that
he promised to return on the following day to hear the result of the
interview. Had Lady Linlithgow not come at that very moment Frank
would probably have asked his rich cousin to be his wife. She had
told him that she was solitary and unhappy; and after that what else
could he have done but ask her to be his wife? The old countess,
however, arrived, and interrupted him. He went away abruptly,
promising to come on the morrow;--but on the morrow he never came. It
was a Friday, and Lizzie remained at home for him the whole morning.
When four o'clock was passed she knew that he would be at the House.
But still she did not stir. And she contrived that Miss Macnulty
should be absent the entire day. Miss Macnulty was even made to go
to the play by herself in the evening. But her absence was of no
service. Frank Greystock came not; and at eleven at night Lizzie
swore to herself that should he ever come again, he should come in
vain. Nevertheless, through the whole of Saturday she expected him
with more or less of confidence, and on the Sunday morning she was
still well-inclined towards him. It might be that he would come on
that day. She could understand that a man with his hands so full of
business, as were those of her cousin Frank, should find himself
unable to keep an appointment. Nor would there be fair ground
for permanent anger with such a one, even should he forget an
appointment. But surely he would come on the Sunday! She had been
quite sure that the offer was about to be made when that odious old
harridan had come in and disturbed everything. Indeed, the offer had
been all but made. She had felt the premonitory flutter, had asked
herself the important question,--and had answered it. She had told
herself that the thing would do. Frank was not the exact hero that
her fancy had painted,--but he was sufficiently heroic. Everybody
said that he would work his way up to the top of the tree, and become
a rich man. At any rate she had resolved;--and then Lady Linlithgow
had come in! Surely he would come on the Sunday.
He did not come on the Sunday, but Lord Fawn did come. Immediately
after morning church Lord Fawn declared his intention of returning at
once from Fawn Court to town. He was very silent at breakfast, and
his sisters surmised that he was still angry with poor Lucy. Lucy,
too, was unlike herself,--was silent, sad, and oppressed. Lady Fawn
was serious, and almost solemn;--so that there was little even of
holy mirth at Fawn Court on that Sunday morning. The whole family,
however, went to church, and immediately on their return Lord Fawn
expressed his intention of returning to town. All the sisters felt
that an injury had been done to them by Lucy. It was only on Sundays
that their dinner-table was graced by the male member of the family,
and now he was driven away. "I am sorry that you are going to desert
us, Frederic," said Lady Fawn. Lord Fawn muttered something as to
absolute necessity, and went. The afternoon was very dreary at Fawn
Court. Nothing was said on the subject; but there was still the
feeling that Lucy had offended. At four o'clock on that Sunday
afternoon Lord Fawn was closeted with Lady Eustace.
The "closeting" consisted simply in the fact that Miss Macnulty was
not present. Lizzie fully appreciated the pleasure, and utility, and
general convenience of having a companion, but she had no scruple
whatever in obtaining absolute freedom for herself when she desired
it. "My dear," she would say, "the best friends in the world
shouldn't always be together; should they? Wouldn't you like to
go to the Horticultural?" Then Miss Macnulty would go to the
Horticultural,--or else up into her own bed-room. When Lizzie was
beginning to wax wrathful again because Frank Greystock did not come,
Lord Fawn made his appearance. "How kind this is," said Lizzie. "I
thought you were always at Richmond on Sundays."
"I have just come up from my mother's," said Lord Fawn, twiddling his
hat. Then Lizzie, with a pretty eagerness, asked after Lady Fawn and
the girls, and her dear little friend Lucy Morris. Lizzie could be
very prettily eager when she pleased. She leaned forward her face
as she asked her questions, and threw back her loose lustrous lock
of hair, with her long lithe fingers covered with diamonds,--the
diamonds, these, which Sir Florian had really given her, or which she
had procured from Mr. Benjamin in the clever manner described in the
opening chapter. "They are all quite well, thank you," said Lord
Fawn. "I believe Miss Morris is quite well, though she was a little
out of sorts last night."
"She is not ill, I hope," said Lizzie, bringing the lustrous lock
forward again.
"In her temper, I mean," said Lord Fawn.
"Indeed! I hope Miss Lucy is not forgetting herself. That would be
very sad, after the great kindness she has received." Lord Fawn said
that it would be very sad, and then put his hat down upon the floor.
It came upon Lizzie at that moment, as by a flash of lightning,--by
an electric message delivered to her intellect by that movement of
the hat,--that she might be sure of Lord Fawn if she chose to take
him. On Friday she might have been sure of Frank,--only that Lady
Linlithgow came in the way. But now she did not feel at all sure of
Frank. Lord Fawn was at any rate a peer. She had heard that he was a
poor peer,--but a peer, she thought, can't be altogether poor. And
though he was a stupid owl,--she did not hesitate to acknowledge to
herself that he was as stupid as an owl,--he had a position. He was
one of the Government, and his wife would, no doubt, be able to go
anywhere. It was becoming essential to her that she should marry.
Even though her husband should give up the diamonds, she would not
in such case incur the disgrace of surrendering them herself. She
would have kept them till she had ceased to be a Eustace. Frank had
certainly meant it on that Thursday afternoon;--but surely he would
have been in Mount Street before this if he had not changed his mind.
We all know that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. "I have
been at Fawn Court once or twice," said Lizzie, with her sweetest
grace, "and I always think it a model of real family happiness."
"I hope you may be there very often," said Lord Fawn.
"Ah, I have no right to intrude myself often on your mother, Lord
Fawn."
There could hardly be a better opening than this for him had he
chosen to accept it. But it was not thus that he had arranged
it,--for he had made his arrangements. "There would be no feeling of
that kind, I am sure," he said. And then he was silent. How was he to
deploy himself on the ground before him so as to make the strategy
which he had prepared answer the occasion of the day? "Lady Eustace,"
he said, "I don't know what your views of life may be."
"I have a child, you know, to bring up."
"Ah, yes;--that gives a great interest, of course."
"He will inherit a very large fortune, Lord Fawn;--too large, I fear,
to be of service to a youth of one-and-twenty; and I must endeavour
to fit him for the possession of it. That is,--and always must be,
the chief object of my existence." Then she felt that she had said
too much. He was just the man who would be fool enough to believe
her. "Not but what it is hard to do it. A mother can of course devote
herself to her child;--but when a portion of the devotion must be
given to the preservation of material interests there is less of
tenderness in it. Don't you think so?"
"No doubt," said Lord Fawn;--"no doubt." But he had not followed
her, and was still thinking of his own strategy. "It's a comfort, of
course, to know that one's child is provided for."
"Oh, yes;--but they tell me the poor little dear will have forty
thousand a year when he's of age; and when I look at him in his
little bed, and press him in my arms, and think of all that money, I
almost wish that his father had been a poor plain gentleman." Then
the handkerchief was put to her eyes, and Lord Fawn had a moment in
which to collect himself.
"Ah!--I myself am a poor man;--for my rank I mean."
"A man with your position, Lord Fawn, and your talents and genius for
business, can never be poor."
"My father's property was all Irish, you know."
"Was it indeed?"
"And he was an Irish peer, till Lord Melbourne gave him an English
peerage."
"An Irish peer, was he?" Lizzie understood nothing of this, but
presumed that an Irish peer was a peer who had not sufficient money
to live upon. Lord Fawn, however, was endeavouring to describe his
own history in as few words as possible.
"He was then made Lord Fawn of Richmond, in the peerage of the United
Kingdom. Fawn Court, you know, belonged to my mother's father before
my mother's marriage. The property in Ireland is still mine, but
there's no place on it."
"Indeed!"
"There was a house, but my father allowed it to tumble down. It's in
Tipperary;--not at all a desirable country to live in."
"Oh, dear, no! Don't they murder the people?"
"It's about five thousand a year, and out of that my mother has half
for her life."
"What an excellent family arrangement," said Lizzie. There was so
long a pause made between each statement that she was forced to make
some reply.
"You see, for a peer, the fortune is very small indeed."
"But then you have a salary;--don't you?"
"At present I have;--but no one can tell how long that may last."
"I'm sure it's for everybody's good that it should go on for ever so
many years," said Lizzie.
"Thank you," said Lord Fawn. "I'm afraid, however, there are a great
many people who don't think so. Your cousin Greystock would do
anything on earth to turn us out."
"Luckily, my cousin Frank has not much power," said Lizzie. And
in saying it she threw into her tone, and into her countenance, a
certain amount of contempt for Frank as a man and as a politician,
which was pleasant to Lord Fawn.
"Now," said he, "I have told you everything about myself which I was
bound, as a man of honour, to tell before--I--I--I--. In short you
know what I mean."
"Oh, Lord Fawn!"
"I have told you everything. I owe no money, but I could not afford
to marry a wife without an income. I admire you more than any woman I
ever saw. I love you with all my heart." He was now standing upright
before her, with the fingers of his right hand touching his left
breast, and there was something almost of dignity in his gesture and
demeanour. "It may be that you are determined never to marry again.
I can only say that if you will trust yourself to me,--yourself and
your child,--I will do my duty truly by you both, and will make your
happiness the chief object of my existence." When she had listened to
him thus far, of course she must accept him; but he was by no means
aware of that. She sat silent, with her hands folded on her breast,
looking down upon the ground; but he did not as yet attempt to seat
himself by her. "Lady Eustace," he continued, "may I venture to
entertain a hope?"
"May I not have an hour to think of it?" said Lizzie, just venturing
to turn a glance of her eye upon his face.
"Oh, certainly. I will call again whenever you may bid me."
Now she was silent for two or three minutes, during which he still
stood over her. But he had dropped his hand from his breast, and had
stooped, and picked up his hat ready for his departure. Was he to
come again on Monday, or Tuesday, or Wednesday? Let her tell him that
and he would go. He doubtless reflected that Wednesday would suit him
best, because there would be no House. But Lizzie was too magnanimous
for this. "Lord Fawn," she said, rising, "you have paid me the
greatest compliment that a man can pay a woman. Coming from you it is
doubly precious; first, because of your character; and secondly--"
"Why secondly?"
"Secondly, because I can love you." This was said in her lowest
whisper, and then she moved towards him gently, and almost laid her
head upon his breast. Of course he put his arm round her waist,--but
it was first necessary that he should once more disembarrass himself
of his hat,--and then her head was upon his breast. "Dearest Lizzie!"
he said.
"Dearest Frederic!" she murmured.
"I shall write to my mother to-night," he said.
"Do, do;--dear Frederic."
"And she will come to you at once, I am sure."
"I will receive her and love her as a mother," said Lizzie, with
all her energy. Then he kissed her again,--her forehead and her
lips,--and took his leave, promising to be with her at any rate on
Wednesday.
"Lady Fawn!" she said to herself. The name did not sound so well as
that of Lady Eustace. But it is much to be a wife; and more to be a
peeress.