"I Suppose I May Say a Word"
The second robbery to which Lady Eustace had been subjected by no
means decreased the interest which was attached to her and her
concerns in the fashionable world. Parliament had now met, and the
party at Matching Priory,--Lady Glencora Palliser's party in the
country,--had been to some extent broken up. All those gentlemen
who were engaged in the service of Her Majesty's Government had
necessarily gone to London, and they who had wives at Matching had
taken their wives with them. Mr. and Mrs. Bonteen had seen the last
of their holiday; Mr. Palliser himself was, of course, at his post;
and all the private secretaries were with the public secretaries
on the scene of action. On the 13th of February Mr. Palliser made
his first great statement in Parliament on the matter of the
five-farthinged penny, and pledged himself to do his very best to
carry that stupendous measure through Parliament in the present
session. The City men who were in the House that night,--and all
the Directors of the Bank of England were in the gallery, and every
chairman of a great banking company, and every Baring and every
Rothschild, if there be Barings and Rothschilds who have not been
returned by constituencies, and have not seats in the House by
right,--agreed in declaring that the job in hand was too much for any
one member or any one session. Some said that such a measure never
could be passed, because the unfinished work of one session could
not be used in lessening the labours of the next. Everything must be
recommenced; and therefore,--so said these hopeless ones,--the penny
with five farthings, the penny of which a hundred would make ten
shillings, the halcyon penny, which would make all future pecuniary
calculations easy to the meanest British capacity, could never become
the law of the land. Others, more hopeful, were willing to believe
that gradually the thing would so sink into the minds of members of
Parliament, of writers of leading articles, and of the active public
generally, as to admit of certain established axioms being taken as
established, and placed, as it were, beyond the procrastinating power
of debate. It might, for instance, at last be taken for granted that
a decimal system was desirable,--so that a month or two of the spring
need not be consumed on that preliminary question. But this period
had not as yet been reached, and it was thought by the entire City
that Mr. Palliser was much too sanguine. It was so probable, many
said, that he might kill himself by labour which would be Herculean
in all but success, and that no financier after him would venture to
face the task. It behoved Lady Glencora to see that her Hercules did
not kill himself.
In this state of affairs Lady Glencora,--into whose hands the custody
of Mr. Palliser's uncle, the duke, had now altogether fallen,--had
a divided duty between Matching and London. When the members of
Parliament went up to London, she went there also, leaving some
half-dozen friends whom she could trust to amuse the duke; but she
soon returned, knowing that there might be danger in a long absence.
The duke, though old, was his own master; he much affected the
company of Madame Goesler, and that lady's kindness to him was
considerate and incessant; but there might still be danger, and Lady
Glencora felt that she was responsible that the old nobleman should
do nothing, in the feebleness of age, to derogate from the splendour
of his past life. What if some day his grace should be off to Paris
and insist on making Madame Goesler a duchess in the chapel of the
Embassy! Madame Goesler had hitherto behaved very well;--would
probably continue to behave well. Lady Glencora really loved Madame
Goesler. But then the interests at stake were very great! So
circumstanced, Lady Glencora found herself compelled to be often on
the road between Matching and London.
But though she was burthened with great care, Lady Glencora by no
means dropped her interest in the Eustace diamonds; and when she
learned that on the top of the great Carlisle robbery a second
robbery had been superadded, and that this had been achieved while
all the London police were yet astray about the former operation, her
solicitude was of course enhanced. The duke himself, too, took the
matter up so strongly, that he almost wanted to be carried up to
London, with some view, as it was supposed by the ladies who were
so good to him, of seeing Lady Eustace personally. "It's out of the
question, my dear," Lady Glencora said to Madame Goesler, when the
duke's fancy was first mentioned to her by that lady. "I told him
that the trouble would be too much for him." "Of course it would be
too much," said Lady Glencora. "It is quite out of the question."
Then, after a moment, she added in a whisper, "Who knows but what
he'd insist on marrying her! It isn't every woman that can resist
temptation." Madame Goesler smiled, and shook her head, but made
no answer to Lady Glencora's suggestion. Lady Glencora assured her
uncle that everything should be told to him. She would write about it
daily, and send him the latest news by the wires if the post should
be too slow. "Ah;--yes," said the duke; "I like telegrams best. I
think, you know, that that Lord George Carruthers has had something
to do with it. Don't you, Madame Goesler?" It had long been evident
that the duke was anxious that one of his own order should be proved
to have been the thief, as the plunder taken was so lordly.
In regard to Lizzie herself, Lady Glencora, on her return to London,
took it into her head to make a diversion in our heroine's favour. It
had hitherto been a matter of faith with all the Liberal party that
Lady Eustace had had something to do with stealing her own diamonds.
That esprit de corps which is the glorious characteristic of English
statesmen had caused the whole Government to support Lord Fawn, and
Lord Fawn could only be supported on the supposition that Lizzie
Eustace had been a wicked culprit. But Lady Glencora, though very
true as a politician, was apt to have opinions of her own, and to
take certain flights in which she chose that others of the party
should follow her. She now expressed an opinion that Lady Eustace
was a victim, and all the Mrs. Bonteens, with some even of the Mr.
Bonteens, found themselves compelled to agree with her. She stood too
high among her set to be subject to that obedience which restrained
others,--too high, also, for others to resist her leading. As a
member of a party she was erratic and dangerous, but from her
position and peculiar temperament she was powerful. When she declared
that poor Lady Eustace was a victim, others were obliged to say so
too. This was particularly hard upon Lord Fawn, and the more so as
Lady Glencora took upon her to assert that Lord Fawn had no right
to jilt the young woman. And Lady Glencora had this to support
her views,--that, for the last week past, indeed ever since the
depositions which had been taken after the robbery in Hertford
Street, the police had expressed no fresh suspicions in regard to
Lizzie Eustace. She heard daily from Barrington Erle that Major
Mackintosh and Bunfit and Gager were as active as ever in their
inquiries, that all Scotland Yard was determined to unravel the
mystery, and that there were emissaries at work tracking the diamonds
at Hamburg, Paris, Vienna, and New York. It had been whispered to Mr.
Erle that the whereabouts of Patience Crabstick had been discovered,
and that many of the leading thieves in London were assisting the
police;--but nothing more was done in the way of fixing any guilt
upon Lizzie Eustace. "Upon my word, I am beginning to think that she
has been more sinned against than sinning." This was said to Lady
Glencora on the morning after Mr. Palliser's great speech about the
five farthings, by Barrington Erle, who, as it seemed, had been
specially told off by the party to watch this investigation.
"I am sure she has had nothing to do with it. I have thought so ever
since the last robbery. Sir Simon Slope told me yesterday afternoon
that Mr. Camperdown has given it up altogether." Sir Simon Slope was
the Solicitor-General of that day.
"It would be absurd for him to go on with his bill in Chancery now
that the diamonds are gone,--unless he meant to make her pay for
them."
"That would be rank persecution. Indeed, she has been persecuted.
I shall call upon her." Then she wrote the following letter to the
duke:--
February 14, 18--.
MY DEAR DUKE,
Plantagenet was on his legs last night for three hours
and three quarters, and I sat through it all. As far as
I could observe through the bars I was the only person in
the House who listened to him. I'm sure Mr. Gresham was
fast asleep. It was quite piteous to see some of them
yawning. Plantagenet did it very well, and I almost think
I understood him. They seem to say that nobody on the
other side will take trouble enough to make a regular
opposition, but that there are men in the City who will
write letters to the newspapers, and get up a sort of Bank
clamour. Plantagenet says nothing about it, but there is
a do-or-die manner with him which is quite tragical. The
House was up at eleven, when he came home and eat three
oysters, drank a glass of beer, and slept well. They say
the real work will come when it's in Committee;--that is,
if it gets there. The bill is to be brought in, and will
be read the first time next Monday week.
As to the robberies, I believe there is no doubt that
the police have got hold of the young woman. They don't
arrest her, but deal with her in a friendly sort of way.
Barrington Erle says that a sergeant is to marry her in
order to make quite sure of her. I suppose they know their
business; but that wouldn't strike me as being the safest
way. They seem to think the diamonds went to Paris but
have since been sent on to New York.
As to the little widow, I do believe she has been made a
victim. She first lost her diamonds, and now her other
jewels and her money have gone. I cannot see what she was
to gain by treachery, and I think she has been ill-used.
She is staying at the house of that Mrs. Carbuncle, but
all the same I shall go and call on her. I wish you could
see her, because she is such a little beauty;--just what
you would like; not so much colour as our friend, but
perfect features, with infinite play,--not perhaps always
in the very best taste; but then we can't have everything;
can we, dear duke?
As to the real thief;--of course you must burn this at
once, and keep it strictly private as coming from me;--I
fancy that delightful Scotch lord managed it entirely.
The idea is, that he did it on commission for the Jew
jewellers. I don't suppose he had money enough to carry it
out himself. As to the second robbery, whether he had or
had not a hand in that, I can't make up my mind. I don't
see why he shouldn't. If a man does go into a business,
he ought to make the best of it. Of course, it was a poor
thing after the diamonds; but still it was worth having.
There is some story about a Sir Griffin Tewett. He's a
real Sir Griffin, as you'll find by the peerage. He was to
marry a young woman, and our Lord George insists that he
shall marry her. I don't understand all about it, but the
girl lives in the same house with Lady Eustace, and if I
call I shall find out. They say that Sir Griffin knows all
about the necklace, and threatens to tell unless he is let
off marrying. I rather think the girl is Lord George's
daughter, so that there is a thorough complication.
I shall go down to Matching on Saturday. If anything turns
up before that, I'll write again, or send a message. I
don't know whether Plantagenet will be able to leave
London. He says he must be back on Monday, and that he
loses too much time on the road. Kiss my little darlings
for me,--[the darlings were Lady Glencora's children, and
the duke's playthings]--and give my love to Madame Max. I
suppose you don't see much of the others.
Most affectionately yours,
GLENCORA.
On the next day Lady Glencora actually did call in Hertford Street,
and saw our friend Lizzie. She was told by the servant that Lady
Eustace was in bed; but, with her usual persistence, she asked
questions, and when she found that Lizzie did receive visitors in her
room, she sent up her card. The compliment was one much too great
to be refused. Lady Glencora stood so high in the world, that her
countenance would be almost as valuable as another lover. If Lord
George would keep her secret, and Lady Glencora would be her friend,
might she not still be a successful woman? So Lady Glencora Palliser
was shown up to Lizzie's chamber. Lizzie was found with her nicest
nightcap and prettiest handkerchief, with a volume of Tennyson's
poetry, and a scent-bottle. She knew that it behoved her to be
very clever at this interview. Her instinct told her that her
first greeting should show more of surprise than of gratification.
Accordingly, in a pretty, feminine, almost childish way, she was very
much surprised. "I'm doing the strangest thing in the world, I know,
Lady Eustace," said Lady Glencora with a smile.
"I'm sure you mean to do a kind thing."
"Well;--yes, I do. I think we have not met since you were at my house
near the end of last season."
"No, indeed. I have been in London six weeks, but have not been out
much. For the last fortnight I have been in bed. I have had things to
trouble me so much that they have made me ill."
"So I have heard, Lady Eustace, and I have just come to offer you my
sympathy. When I was told that you did see people, I thought that
perhaps you would admit me."
"So willingly, Lady Glencora!"
"I have heard, of course, of your terrible losses."
"The loss has been as nothing to the vexation that has accompanied
it. I don't know how to speak of it. Ladies have lost their jewels
before now, but I don't know that any lady before me has ever been
accused of stealing them herself."
"There has been no accusation, surely?"
"I haven't exactly been put in prison, Lady Glencora, but I have
had policemen here wanting to search my things;--and then you know
yourself what reports have been spread."
"Oh, yes; I do. Only for that, to tell you plainly, I should
hardly have been here now." Then Lady Glencora poured out her
sympathy,--perhaps with more eloquence and grace than discretion. She
was, at any rate, both graceful and eloquent. "As for the loss of the
diamonds, I think you bear it wonderfully," said Lady Glencora.
"If you could imagine how little I care about it!" said Lizzie with
enthusiasm. "They had lost the delight which I used to feel in them
as a present from my husband. People had talked about them, and I had
been threatened because I chose to keep what I knew to be my own. Of
course, I would not give them up. Would you have given them up, Lady
Glencora?"
"Certainly not."
"Nor would I. But when once all that had begun, they became an
irrepressible burthen to me. I often used to say that I would throw
them into the sea."
"I don't think I would have done that," said Lady Glencora.
"Ah,--you have never suffered as I have suffered."
"We never know where each other's shoes pinch each other's toes."
"You have never been left desolate. You have a husband and friends."
"A husband that wants to put five farthings into a penny! All is not
gold that glistens, Lady Eustace."
"You can never have known trials such as mine," continued Lizzie, not
understanding in the least her new friend's allusion to the great
currency question. "Perhaps you may have heard that in the course
of last summer I became engaged to marry a nobleman, with whom I am
aware that you are acquainted." This she said in her softest whisper.
"Oh, yes;--Lord Fawn. I know him very well. Of course I heard of it.
We all heard of it."
"And you have heard how he has treated me?"
"Yes,--indeed."
"I will say nothing about him--to you, Lady Glencora. It would not
be proper that I should do so. But all that came of this wretched
necklace. After that, can you wonder that I should say that I wish
these stones had been thrown into the sea?"
"I suppose Lord Fawn will--will come all right again now?" said Lady
Glencora.
"All right!" exclaimed Lizzie in astonishment.
"His objection to the marriage will now be over."
"I'm sure I do not in the least know what are his lordship's views,"
said Lizzie in scorn, "and, to tell the truth, I do not very much
care."
"What I mean is, that he didn't like you to have the Eustace
diamonds--"
"They were not Eustace diamonds. They were my diamonds."
"But he did not like you to have them; and as they are now gone--for
ever--"
"Oh, yes;--they are gone for ever."
"His objection is gone too. Why don't you write to him, and make him
come and see you? That's what I should do."
Lizzie, of course, repudiated vehemently any idea of forcing Lord
Fawn into a marriage which had become distasteful to him,--let the
reason be what it might. "His lordship is perfectly free, as far as I
am concerned," said Lizzie with a little show of anger. But all this
Lady Glencora took at its worth. Lizzie Eustace had been a good deal
knocked about, and Lady Glencora did not doubt but that she would be
very glad to get back her betrothed husband. The little woman had
suffered hardships,--so thought Lady Glencora,--and a good thing
would be done by bringing her into fashion, and setting the marriage
up again. As to Lord Fawn,--the fortune was there, as good now as it
had been when he first sought it; and the lady was very pretty, a
baronet's widow too!--and in all respects good enough for Lord Fawn.
A very pretty little baronet's widow she was, with four thousand
a year, and a house in Scotland, and a history. Lady Glencora
determined that she would remake the match.
"I think, you know, friends who have been friends should be brought
together. I suppose I may say a word to Lord Fawn?"
Lizzie hesitated for a moment before she answered, and then
remembered that revenge, at least, would be sweet to her. She had
sworn that she would be revenged upon Lord Fawn. After all, might it
not suit her best to carry out her oath by marrying him? But whether
so or otherwise, it would not but be well for her that he should be
again at her feet. "Yes,--if you think good will come of it." The
acquiescence was given with much hesitation;--but the circumstances
required that it should be so, and Lady Glencora fully understood the
circumstances. When she took her leave, Lizzie was profuse in her
gratitude. "Oh, Lady Glencora, it has been so good of you to come.
Pray come again, if you can spare me another moment." Lady Glencora
said that she would come again.
During the visit she had asked some question concerning Lucinda and
Sir Griffin, and had been informed that that marriage was to go on. A
hint had been thrown out as to Lucinda's parentage;--but Lizzie had
not understood the hint, and the question had not been pressed.