"Doan't Thou Marry for Munny"
As that Saturday afternoon wore itself away, there was much
excitement at Fawn Court. When Lady Fawn returned with the carriage,
she heard that Frank Greystock had been at Fawn Court; and she heard
also, from Augusta, that he had been rambling about the grounds alone
with Lucy Morris. At any exhibition of old ladies, held before a
competent jury, Lady Fawn would have taken a prize on the score of
good humour. No mother of daughters was ever less addicted to scold
and to be fretful. But just now she was a little unhappy. Lizzie's
visit had not been a success, and she looked forward to her son's
marriage with almost unmixed dismay. Mrs. Hittaway had written daily,
and in all Mrs. Hittaway's letters some addition was made to the evil
things already known. In her last letter Mrs. Hittaway had expressed
her opinion that even yet "Frederic" would escape. All this Lady Fawn
had, of course, not told to her daughters generally. To the eldest,
Augusta, it was thought expedient to say nothing, because Augusta had
been selected as the companion of the, alas! too probable future Lady
Fawn. But to Amelia something did leak out, and it became apparent
that the household was uneasy. Now,--as an evil added to this,--Frank
Greystock had been there in Lady Fawn's absence, walking about the
grounds alone with Lucy Morris. Lady Fawn could hardly restrain
herself. "How could Lucy be so very wrong?" she said, in the hearing
both of Augusta and Amelia.
Lizzie Eustace did not hear this; but knowing very well that a
governess should not receive a lover in the absence of the lady of
the house, she made her little speech about it. "Dear Lady Fawn," she
said, "my cousin Frank came to see me while you were out."
"So I hear," said Lady Fawn.
"Frank and I are more like brother and sister than anything else. I
had so much to say to him;--so much to ask him to do! I have no one
else, you know, and I had especially told him to come here."
"Of course he was welcome to come."
"Only I was afraid you might think that there was some little lover's
trick,--on dear Lucy's part, you know."
"I never suspect anything of that kind," said Lady Fawn, bridling up.
"Lucy Morris is above any sort of trick. We don't have any tricks
here, Lady Eustace." Lady Fawn herself might say that Lucy was
"wrong," but no one else in that house should even suggest evil of
Lucy. Lizzie retreated smiling. To have "put Lady Fawn's back up," as
she called it, was to her an achievement and a pleasure.
But the great excitement of the evening consisted in the expected
coming of Lord Fawn. Of what nature would be the meeting between
Lord Fawn and his promised bride? Was there anything of truth in the
opinion expressed by Mrs. Hittaway that her brother was beginning
to become tired of his bargain? That Lady Fawn was tired of it
herself,--that she disliked Lizzie, and was afraid of her, and averse
to the idea of regarding her as a daughter-in-law,--she did not now
attempt to hide from herself. But there was the engagement, known
to all the world, and how could its fulfilment now be avoided? The
poor dear old woman began to repeat to herself the first half of the
Quaker's advice, "Doan't thou marry for munny."
Lord Fawn was to come down only in time for a late dinner. An ardent
lover, one would have thought, might have left his work somewhat
earlier on a Saturday, so as to have enjoyed with his sweetheart
something of the sweetness of the Saturday summer afternoon;--but it
was seven before he reached Fawn Court, and the ladies were at that
time in their rooms dressing. Lizzie had affected to understand all
his reasons for being so late, and had expressed herself as perfectly
satisfied. "He has more to do than any of the others," she had said
to Augusta. "Indeed, the whole of our vast Indian empire may be said
to hang upon him, just at present;"--which was not complimentary to
Lord Fawn's chief, the Right Honourable Legge Wilson, who at the
present time represented the interests of India in the Cabinet. "He
is terribly overworked, and it is a shame;--but what can one do?"
"I think he likes work," Augusta had replied.
"But I don't like it,--not so much of it; and so I shall make him
understand, my dear. But I don't complain. As long as he tells me
everything, I will never really complain." Perhaps it might some
day be as she desired; perhaps as a husband he would be thoroughly
confidential and communicative; perhaps when they two were one flesh
he would tell her everything about India;--but as yet he certainly
had not told her much.
"How had they better meet?" Amelia asked her mother.
"Oh;--I don't know;--anyhow; just as they like. We can't arrange
anything for her. If she had chosen to dress herself early, she might
have seen him as he came in; but it was impossible to tell her so."
No arrangement was therefore made, and as all the other ladies were
in the drawing-room before Lizzie came down, she had to give him his
welcome in the midst of the family circle. She did it very well.
Perhaps she had thought of it, and made her arrangements. When he
came forward to greet her, she put her cheek up, just a little, so
that he might see that he was expected to kiss it;--but so little,
that should he omit to do so, there might be no visible awkwardness.
It must be acknowledged on Lizzie's behalf, that she could always
avoid awkwardness. He did touch her cheek with his lips, blushing as
he did so. She had her ungloved hand in his, and, still holding him,
returned into the circle. She said not a word; and what he said was
of no moment;--but they had met as lovers, and any of the family who
had allowed themselves to imagine that even yet the match might be
broken, now unconsciously abandoned that hope. "Was he always such a
truant, Lady Fawn?"--Lizzie asked, when it seemed to her that no one
else would speak a word.
"I don't know that there is much difference," said Lady Fawn. "Here
is dinner. Frederic, will you give--Lady Eustace your arm?" Poor Lady
Fawn! It often came to pass that she was awkward.
There were no less than ten females sitting round the board, at the
bottom of which Lord Fawn took his place. Lady Fawn had especially
asked Lucy to come in to dinner, and with Lucy had come the two
younger girls. At Lord Fawn's right hand sat Lizzie, and Augusta at
his left. Lady Fawn had Amelia on one side and Lucy on the other. "So
Mr. Greystock was here to-day," Lady Fawn whispered into Lucy's ear.
"Yes; he was here."
"Oh, Lucy!"
"I did not bid him come, Lady Fawn."
"I am sure of that, my dear;--but--but--" Then there was no more to
be said on that subject on that occasion.
During the whole of the dinner the conversation was kept up at the
other end of the table by Lizzie talking to Augusta across her lover.
This was done in such a manner as to seem to include Lord Fawn in
every topic discussed. Parliament, India, the Sawab, Ireland, the
special privileges of the House of Lords, the ease of a bachelor
life, and the delight of having at his elbow just such a rural
retreat as Fawn Court,--these were the fruitful themes of Lizzie's
eloquence. Augusta did her part at any rate with patience; and as for
Lizzie herself, she worked with that superhuman energy which women
can so often display in making conversation under unfavourable
circumstances. The circumstances were unfavourable, for Lord Fawn
himself would hardly open his mouth; but Lizzie persevered, and the
hour of dinner passed over without any show of ill-humour, or of
sullen silence. When the hour was over, Lord Fawn left the room with
the ladies, and was soon closeted with his mother, while the girls
strolled out upon the lawn. Would Lizzie play croquet? No; Lizzie
would not play croquet. She thought it probable that she might catch
her lover and force him to walk with her through the shrubberies; but
Lord Fawn was not seen upon the lawn that evening, and Lizzie was
forced to content herself with Augusta as a companion. In the course
of the evening, however, her lover did say a word to her in private.
"Give me ten minutes to-morrow between breakfast and church, Lizzie."
Lizzie promised that she would do so, smiling sweetly. Then there was
a little music, and then Lord Fawn retired to his studies.
"What is he going to say to me?" Lizzie asked Augusta the next
morning. There existed in her bosom a sort of craving after
confidential friendship,--but with it there existed something that
was altogether incompatible with confidence. She thoroughly despised
Augusta Fawn, and yet would have been willing,--in want of a better
friend,--to press Augusta to her bosom, and swear that there should
ever be between them the tenderest friendship. She desired to be
the possessor of the outward shows of all those things of which the
inward facts are valued by the good and steadfast ones of the earth.
She knew what were the aspirations,--what the ambition, of an honest
woman; and she knew, too, how rich were the probable rewards of
such honesty. True love, true friendship, true benevolence, true
tenderness, were beautiful to her,--qualities on which she could
descant almost with eloquence; and therefore she was always shamming
love and friendship and benevolence and tenderness. She could tell
you, with words most appropriate to the subject, how horrible were
all shams, and in saying so would be not altogether insincere;--yet
she knew that she herself was ever shamming, and she satisfied
herself with shams. "What is he going to say to me?" she asked
Augusta, with her hands clasped, when she went up to put her bonnet
on after breakfast.
"To fix the day, I suppose," said Augusta.
"If I thought so, I would endeavour to please him. But it isn't that.
I know his manner so well! I am sure it is not that. Perhaps it is
something about my boy. He will not wish to separate a mother from
her child."
"Oh dear, no," said Augusta. "I am sure Frederic will not want to do
that."
"In anything else I will obey him," said Lizzie, again clasping her
hands. "But I must not keep him waiting,--must I? I fear my future
lord is somewhat impatient." Now, if among Lord Fawn's merits one
merit was more conspicuous than another, it was that of patience.
When Lizzie descended he was waiting for her in the hall without a
thought that he was being kept too long. "Now, Frederic! I should
have been with you two whole minutes since, if I had not had just a
word to say to Augusta. I do so love Augusta."
"She is a very good girl," said Lord Fawn.
"So true and genuine,--and so full of spirit. I will come on the
other side because of my parasol and the sun. There, that will do. We
have an hour nearly before going to church;--haven't we? I suppose
you will go to church."
"I intend it," said Lord Fawn.
"It is so nice to go to church," said Lizzie. Since her widowhood had
commenced, she had compromised matters with the world. One Sunday
she would go to church, and the next she would have a headache and
a French novel and stay in bed. But she was prepared for stricter
conduct during at least the first months of her newly-married life.
"My dear Lizzie," began Lord Fawn, "since I last saw you I have been
twice with Mr. Camperdown."
"You are not going to talk about Mr. Camperdown to-day?"
"Well;--yes. I could not do so last night, and I shall be back in
London either to-night or before you are up to-morrow morning."
"I hate the very name of Mr. Camperdown," said Lizzie.
"I am sorry for that, because I am sure you could not find an
honester lawyer to manage your affairs for you. He does everything
for me, and so he did for Sir Florian Eustace."
"That is just the reason why I employ some one else," she answered.
"Very well. I am not going to say a word about that. I may regret it,
but I am, just at present, the last person in the world to urge you
upon that subject. What I want to say is this. You must restore those
diamonds."
"To whom shall I restore them?"
"To Mr. Garnett, the silversmith, if you please,--or to Mr.
Camperdown;--or, if you like it better, to your brother-in-law, Mr.
John Eustace."
"And why am I to give up my own property?"
Lord Fawn paused for some seconds before he replied. "To satisfy
my honour," he then said. As she made him no immediate answer, he
continued,--"It would not suit my views that my wife should be seen
wearing the jewels of the Eustace family."
"I don't want to wear them," said Lizzie.
"Then why should you desire to keep them?"
"Because they are my own. Because I do not choose to be put upon.
Because I will not allow such a cunning old snake as Mr. Camperdown
to rob me of my property. They are my own, and you should defend my
right to them."
"Do you mean to say that you will not oblige me by doing what I ask
you?"
"I will not be robbed of what is my own," said Lizzie.
"Then I must declare--" and now Lord Fawn spoke very slowly--"then
I must declare that under these circumstances, let the consequences
be what they may, I must retreat from the enviable position which
your favour has given me." The words were cold and solemn, and were
ill-spoken; but they were deliberate, and had been indeed actually
learned by heart.
"What do you mean?" said Lizzie, flashing round upon him.
"I mean what I say,--exactly. But perhaps it may be well that I
should explain my motives more clearly."
"I don't know anything about motives, and I don't care anything about
motives. Do you mean to tell me that you have come here to threaten
me with deserting me?"
"You had better hear me."
"I don't choose to hear a word more after what you have said,--unless
it be in the way of an apology, or retracting your most injurious
accusation."
"I have said nothing to retract," said Lord Fawn solemnly.
"Then I will not hear another word from you. I have friends, and you
shall see them."
Lord Fawn, who had thought a great deal upon the subject, and had
well understood that this interview would be for him one of great
difficulty, was very anxious to induce her to listen to a few further
words of explanation. "Dear Lizzie--" he began.
"I will not be addressed, sir, in that way by a man who is treating
me as you are doing," she said.
"But I want you to understand me."
"Understand you! You understand nothing yourself that a man ought to
understand. I wonder that you have the courage to be so insolent. If
you knew what you were doing, you would not have the spirit to do
it."
Her words did not quite come home to him, and much of her scorn was
lost upon him. He was now chiefly anxious to explain to her that
though he must abide by the threat he had made, he was quite willing
to go on with his engagement if she would oblige him in the matter of
the diamonds. "It was necessary that I should explain to you that I
could not allow that necklace to be brought into my house."
"No one thought of taking it to your house."
"What were you to do with it, then?"
"Keep it in my own," said Lizzie stoutly. They were still walking
together, and were now altogether out of sight of the house. Lizzie
in her excitement had forgotten church, had forgotten the Fawn
women,--had forgotten everything except the battle which it was
necessary that she should fight for herself. She did not mean to
allow the marriage to be broken off,--but she meant to retain
the necklace. The manner in which Lord Fawn had demanded its
restitution,--in which there had been none of that mock tenderness by
which she might have permitted herself to be persuaded,--had made
her, at any rate for the moment, as firm as steel on this point. It
was inconceivable to her that he should think himself at liberty to
go back from his promise, because she would not render up property
which was in her possession, and which no one could prove not to be
legally her own! She walked on full of fierce courage,--despising
him, but determined that she would marry him.
"I am afraid we do not understand each other," he said at last.
"Certainly I do not understand you, sir."
"Will you allow my mother to speak to you on the subject?"
"No. If I told your mother to give up her diamonds, what would she
say?"
"But they are not yours, Lady Eustace, unless you will submit that
question to an arbitrator."
"I will submit nothing to anybody. You have no right to speak on such
a subject till after we are married."
"I must have it settled first, Lady Eustace."
"Then, Lord Fawn, you won't have it settled first. Or rather it is
settled already. I shall keep my own necklace, and Mr. Camperdown may
do anything he pleases. As for you,--if you ill-treat me, I shall
know where to go to." They had now come out from the shrubbery upon
the lawn, and there was the carriage at the door, ready to take the
elders of the family to church. Of course in such a condition of
affairs it would be understood that Lizzie was one of the elders. "I
shall not go to church now," she said, as she advanced across the
lawn towards the hall door. "You will be pleased, Lord Fawn, to let
your mother know that I am detained. I do not suppose that you will
dare to tell her why." Then she sailed round at the back of the
carriage and entered the hall, in which several of the girls were
standing. Among them was Augusta, waiting to take her seat among the
elders;--but Lizzie passed on through them all, without a word, and
marched up to her bed-room.
"Oh, Frederic, what is the matter?" asked Augusta, as soon as her
brother entered the house.
"Never mind. Nothing is the matter. You had better go to church.
Where is my mother?"
At this moment Lady Fawn appeared at the bottom of the stairs, having
passed Lizzie as she was coming down. Not a syllable had then been
spoken, but Lady Fawn at once knew that much was wrong. Her son went
up to her and whispered a word in her ear. "Oh, certainly," she said,
desisting from the operation of pulling on her gloves. "Augusta,
neither your brother nor I will go to church."
"Nor--Lady Eustace?"
"It seems not," said Lady Fawn.
"Lady Eustace will not go to church," said Lord Fawn.
"And where is Lucy?" asked Lydia.
"She will not go to church either," said Lady Fawn. "I have just been
with her."
"Nobody is going to church," said Nina. "All the same, I shall go by
myself."
"Augusta, my dear, you and the girls had better go. You can take the
carriage of course." But Augusta and the girls chose to walk, and the
carriage was sent round into the yard.
"There's a rumpus already between my lord and the young missus," said
the coachman to the groom;--for the coachman had seen the way in
which Lady Eustace had returned to the house. And there certainly was
a rumpus. During the whole morning Lord Fawn was closeted with his
mother, and then he went away to London without saying a word to any
one of the family. But he left this note for Lady Eustace:--
DEAREST LIZZIE,
Think well of what I have said to you. It is not that I
desire to break off our engagement; but that I cannot
allow my wife to keep the diamonds which belong of right
to her late husband's family. You may be sure that I
should not be thus urgent had I not taken steps to
ascertain that I am right in my judgment. In the meantime
you had better consult my mother.
Yours affectionately,
FAWN.