APPROACHES
Lady Eldridge came over to the Hall the next morning. Mrs. Eldridge
received her with bright amiability. On the surface they were friends as
before, but the desire for one another's company was less. They had not
quarrelled and would not quarrel, but each of them knew now that the
other had espoused the quarrel, and that it was beyond their powers to
end it.
Lady Eldridge had brought news. William had taken a shooting in Suffolk,
and she was going to join him there immediately, to get ready for their
first party, to which, however, she had brought no invitation. "It has
all been rather sudden," she said with a smile. "But William is like
that. It is very good partridge country. He heard that the shoot was to
be let, and ran down to see about it. It seemed to be just what he
wanted, so he closed with them at once."
"Lord Crowborough told Edmund yesterday that he was buying a place in
Suffolk," said Mrs. Eldridge. "Well, my dear, it will be dreadful to
lose you, but under the circumstances at present I'm afraid we shouldn't
get much pleasure out of one another here. Perhaps it's the best thing.
Are you going to move your furniture there?"
"But William hasn't bought the place," said Lady Eldridge. "It is
extraordinary what tales get about. He has only taken it for the
season, furnished, of course. It's a very nice house, and his idea is
that we shall go there this winter when we are not in London. But there
is no idea of our giving up the Grange. I hope we shall be here next
summer, and that everything will be happy again between us."
"I hope it will be," said Mrs. Eldridge with a sigh; "and I wish we
didn't have to wait until next summer for it. Little things always seem
to be happening to put us farther apart, and nothing ever happens to
bring us closer together."
"There is one little thing that may help. William is sending Coombe up
to Eylsham. A head gardener is wanted there, and he has got him the
place. He won't come back here, even when our tenancy there ends."
So there was that trouble removed, but too late for it to have much
effect. Colonel Eldridge, when he heard of it, expressed a modified
satisfaction. "I'm glad to get the fellow out of the place," he said,
"though I think the mischief he may have done is at an end. People here
have taken his measure, and he doesn't seem to have turned anybody
against me. It has happened to suit William to clear him out of here; if
he had meant to satisfy me by doing it he'd have done it in a different
way."
He expressed some doubt, also, as to whether Lord Crowborough's story
wasn't true after all. "Eleanor hasn't seen him for a fortnight or
more," he said. "She only knows what he has written to her. We know that
the place _is_ on the market. Very likely he has taken it for a time to
see how it suits him; and if it does he will buy it. He hasn't told
Eleanor that yet. I don't know that I've any reason to complain about
it, if it is so. I suppose he wants landed property to support his new
title, and he wouldn't be content to wait for Hayslope. My life is
pretty well as good as his. At any rate there's no definite point in
dispute left now between us. There's no need for him to turn his back on
me any longer."
"Wouldn't he expect you to take the first step towards a reconciliation
now?"
"I dare say he would. But I'm not going to do it. What grounds should I
have to go on? There aren't any. At the same time, if _he_ puts out any
feelers, I shan't reject them. For one thing it is getting very tiresome
to have to arrange things that he and I are both concerned in through
lawyers, and absurdly expensive, too. Of course that doesn't matter to
him, but every penny matters to me now. There are all sorts of little
points that a few words between us would settle, and I've got to make a
formal business of correspondence with all of them. If he no longer has
any feeling for me as a brother, there's no reason for him to treat me
as an enemy."
He had not mentioned to his wife that Lord Crowborough was going to try
to put matters straight between him and his brother, but it was very
much in his mind. He was beginning to have an uneasy feeling that if he
had held himself a little less stiffly no estrangement need have
occurred. He had been right, he thought, in every point of their
dispute, and his brother wrong, but looking back upon it all there was
nothing that should have led to an actual state of enmity between them.
The results of that state were pressing hardly upon him. There was a
great deal of business in connection with the estate to which William
was now the next heir that had been made easy by their meeting so often
and being so of accord in what should be done. It had to be recognized
too that, in spite of his determination to carry out his own obligations
to the full, William had done much to grease the wheels. If he had never
allowed him to pay money that was not actually due from him, a
considerable saving had been made in his own expenditure by William's
ready, open-handed ways. He was not sure, either, that William had not
actually paid a good deal here and there that was not strictly due from
him. He seemed to have been clever in getting over objections on his
part, and making it all appear natural and business-like. You might say
what you pleased about money not mattering much to him, and about his
taking a pride in playing the bountiful; but it would be ungracious to
look upon that side only, and to ignore the undoubted generosity of his
dealings, and especially the impulse to cover it up. It was that
generosity which Colonel Eldridge was missing now, even more than the
tangible results of it, though the lack of them was making his days dark
and anxious. In fact, he was beginning to miss William, though he had
given Lord Crowborough to understand that he could do very well without
him for the future.
Lord Crowborough lost no time in putting his good intention to the
proof. He was seriously disturbed at the state of things revealed to him
by his old friend. He had not thought that the quarrel had gone nearly
so far nor so deep. In talking it over with Lady Crowborough, he
expressed himself doubtful about being able to do much to mend matters.
"William has put Edmund's back up," he said, "and I'm not altogether
surprised at it. Still, Edmund is ready to make friends if William gives
him a chance. At least, he is quite willing to meet him again; and if
they come together I expect they _will_ make friends."
"I think it is all very absurd," said Lady Crowborough. "I feel quite
sure that Colonel Eldridge is in the wrong from beginning to end, and I
very nearly told him so this afternoon."
"But, my dear, you didn't know anything about it this afternoon."
"Oh, yes, I did. I knew there was something amiss. It was as much as I
could do to be civil to Colonel Eldridge; he is so obstinate and
wrong-headed. She backs him up, too, though she pretends to be all
sweetness and reasonableness. I'm sorry for her though, for I'm afraid
they have very little money now, and are going through a bad time. I was
a good deal more friendly to her this afternoon than I felt like,
because of that; and I must keep in with her because of Pamela."
"Why because of Pamela?"
"Well, I hadn't meant to say anything to you yet, but I don't seem to be
able to keep anything to myself. Jim is in love with Pamela. She's a
very sweet girl, though her parents are rather tiresome. I don't see
any reason to object. Jim might marry somebody of higher rank or with
more money, but we're not worldly, as I told Mrs. Eldridge, and if he
has set his heart on Pamela I'm not sorry for it."
"You told Mrs. Eldridge? You talked that over together?"
"Well, and why not? Of course _she_ would like it. As she said, with
four daughters and two of them grown up, it was time to think about
marriage for them."
"Did she really say that?"
"Not in so many words, perhaps, but that was what she meant. You
wouldn't object to Jim marrying Pamela, would you?"
"No, I shouldn't object," said Lord Crowborough, after a pause of
consideration. "I think I should be rather glad. Pamela is a very
charming girl. But I doubt if there's anything in it all the same. I
happened to notice that Jim wasn't much with her this afternoon. He was
much more with little Judith, and they seemed to be getting on
extraordinarily well together. Oddly enough, it did cross my mind that
something might come out of that by and by."
"It's curious you should say so, because that is what Mrs. Eldridge
seemed to be hinting at. She never says anything straight out. However,
we shall see. She was very anxious that we should get up a picnic. I
think her idea was to help matters on, though she wouldn't have
acknowledged that. I shouldn't have taken to the suggestion if I had
seen any reason why matters shouldn't be helped on. I should be rather
disappointed if it is Judith and not Pamela. But we shall see. I shall
let Mrs. Eldridge have her picnic, and we shall see what comes of it.
Then we shall know what to do."
Lord Crowborough met Lord Eldridge in London by appointment. He went up
for the day, on purpose to do so. It was a little unfortunate that Lord
Eldridge's engagements prevented his accepting an invitation to lunch,
for a more leisured conversation in a mellower atmosphere than that of
his office in the City might have led to more satisfactory results.
For the mission was a failure. "I shan't take any further steps," said
Lord Eldridge; firmly. "It's very kind of you to want to bring us
together again, and as far as I'm concerned I'm not going to keep up a
feud. You can tell Edmund that, if you like. But it's he who has created
the feud, and if he wants it ended it's for him to make the advance.
I've done every mortal thing that he has wanted me to do, unreasonable
as well as reasonable, and it has been of no use. There's nothing more
left for me to do."
"Well, there was something--he didn't tell me what it was--that he
thought you might have done. But he said he didn't mind now whether you
did it or not."
"Yes, exactly. That's how it goes all the time. I don't wonder he didn't
tell you what it was. _I_ don't mind telling you. I was to dismiss my
head gardener, out of hand, at a word from him. I didn't see any reason
to do it, when I had looked into the complaint, which I did do. But I
have taken the man away from Hayslope, and got him another job, solely
and entirely to remove that cause of complaint. And now I'm told he
doesn't mind whether I do it or not. Why, he made it the final cause of
the split between us! He wouldn't come to my house again as long as that
man was there. I haven't seen him since, and really, Crowborough, I
don't want to see him. I don't know what has come over him, but there's
nothing one can do to placate him. I'm not going to take any more
trouble about it." He turned sharply round in his chair. "What the devil
_is_ it that he complains of?" he asked in a tone of strong irritation.
"I'm just what I've always been to him. We've always got on well
together up till now."
"Well, he says that you're _not_ just the same," said Lord Crowborough,
with weighty insistence. "And I'm not sure that you are, you know,
William. Of course you've got a deal more money than most of us, and
that seems to be complicating things at Hayslope."
"Complicating things! I'll tell you this, that Edmund will find things a
good deal more complicated without my money to help him along. He's got
no head for business, not even estate business, which he thinks he knows
all about. I don't think he has the least idea what a help I've been to
him over that. I've been rather keen that he shouldn't know. But now
that it will all be on his own shoulders I think he'll find his troubles
increasing on him pretty heavily."
"Well, do you want that, William? Do you want that?"
Lord Crowborough had scored there. "No, I don't want it," said Lord
Eldridge in a tone that was almost sulky. "At least, I don't want him
to be pushed up into a corner. I don't think it will do him any harm to
get some idea of what I've really done for him during these last few
years, all the same."
"I know how generous you have been, my dear fellow. I know that we were
never to mention what you did over that unpleasant business of Hugo's
with Horsham, but _I_ shall never forget it."
"I saved Edmund trouble and disgrace over that, didn't I? I'd have done
anything to prevent his knowing what a young scoundrel Hugo really was.
I was going to say, what a lot of thanks I get for it; but of course he
doesn't know. I haven't told you, because I haven't seen you since, that
I had a reminder of that business the other day. I tried to warn Edmund
of what might be coming, but he wouldn't even listen to me. Apparently
nothing _has_ happened yet, and I hope nothing will."
"What is it? I thought that was all over and done with."
"So did I. But do you remember young Barrett, who was one of them that
evening, and was killed at the same time as Hugo?"
"I remember his name."
"His mother wrote and asked me to go and see her. She thought Hugo was
my son, as it turned out, fortunately for Edmund, or he would have had
the story. She had found among his papers an I. O. U. of Hugo's for four
hundred pounds, and a statement written by himself of exactly what had
happened on that night. It was a pretty damaging indictment. Although I
had known it all through, it made me ashamed to read it."
"What kind of a woman can she be to want to show that to the boy's
father, after he had been killed?"
"Oh, I ought to have told you that she didn't show me the paper until
she knew that I wasn't his father. It was the I. O. U. that she wanted
to talk about. She's an emotional, I should say rather hysterical sort
of woman. It's possible she might have shown Edmund the paper, if he had
been there instead of me; but she hadn't meant to do so when she wrote.
She didn't know what to do about the I. O. U. She had thought of
destroying it, but couldn't make up her mind what to do. I offered to
settle it then and there, but she wouldn't let me. She has plenty of
money, and when it came to the point I think she was rather ashamed at
the idea of taking it. I suppose she really wanted the luxury of a
little fuss, and if she was going to behave generously about it, to let
it be known, at any rate to Hugo's people. I couldn't do anything with
her except that I think I made her understand that it wouldn't do her
son's name any good to have it known. So I suppose she'll keep quiet. I
tried to make her see that it would be a cruel thing, as you said just
now, to trouble Hugo's father. I told her that he didn't know the worst,
though I did, and you did, and that I had settled it, as far as it could
be settled. She seemed to accept it all, and to be glad that her mistake
had prevented her from doing something she might have regretted. But I
can't feel sure about her. He was her only son; she wants to keep him
alive in some way. I saw that she sent a subscription of a hundred
pounds to some charity, in his name, only a few days ago. You never know
where you are with a woman like that. I've done all that I can."
"Poor old Edmund! It would be a sad thing if he had to know about it
after all."
"Yes; I don't think it will happen. I don't in the least think it will
happen. She'll let me know if she wants the money. She practically
promised me that. I'm rather glad now that Edmund did prevent my warning
him about it. I had just come from her, and I felt doubtful as to what
she would do. I shouldn't have told him everything--only something that
would have broken the shock to him if it had come. But it's weeks ago
now. She's apparently decided not to do anything. I think the danger is
past."
"It looks like it; and I'm very glad of it. Poor Edmund! He clings to
that boy's memory, though I'm afraid he'd have given him nothing but
trouble if he'd lived. You've been very good, William, in keeping the
worst of it from him. You've done it even since you quarrelled with him.
Now look here--can't you carry it a bit further and make friends with
him again?"
"Oh, I'm quite ready to make friends with him if he wants it. I've told
you so. But as for taking the first step, which I suppose is what you
want me to do, I tell you I'm tired of taking first steps. When this
absurd dispute began, I put aside one offence after the other from him,
and acted on what I thought was beneath it all--I mean the very thing
you rely on--our always having got on well together as brothers and all
that. _He_ didn't rely on that. Every step I took was made the basis of
further offence. No, I'm not going out on that road again. If he wants
me he knows well enough how to get me."
"My dear fellow, I dare say you're in the right and he's in the
wrong--all the way through if you like. But it's a question of acting
generously."
"I've tried to do that. But when your generosity is thrown back in your
face time after time--! No, it's no good, Crowborough. I'm ready to put
it all aside and begin again; but I'm not going to make any more
advances."
With this Lord Crowborough had to be content. He made the most of it to
Colonel Eldridge. William was quite ready to return to their former
relations, but he was still sore about the way in which his efforts at
reconciliation had been rejected, as he considered. Couldn't Edmund
himself write something that would put it right? He felt sure that
William would respond.
"I'll think about it," said Colonel Eldridge. "I'm not going to do
anything in a hurry."
He thought about it very carefully. He wanted to have it over. William
had said he was ready to have it over; but did he really want it, in the
same way, or didn't he much care? His whole attitude now seemed to show
that he hardly cared at all. He was leaving Hayslope and all his
interests there, which had been much to him. Now, besides all the other
interests of his successful life, they counted for very little, and he,
his brother, was just part of them. If he were to put aside his
resentments, which still caused him acute annoyance when he remembered
their successive occasions, and to make some advance towards
reconciliation, wouldn't it be taken as just an indication that he had
found himself unable to do without William's assistance and was ready to
eat humble pie in order to get it again?
No, he couldn't do it. William would no doubt respond effusively. He
would pretend that nothing had ever happened, and behave with that
excessive brotherliness which he had always found it difficult to
respond to, though he had valued it as expressing the feeling which he
had also cherished. With the memory of all that would have to be ignored
still fresh in his mind, he knew that he could not meet that attitude
graciously--not for some time to come. It would be a false intimacy to
which he would be immediately invited; not false, perhaps, on William's
part, because with all his late offences endorsed, and the excitements
of his life taking up most of his attention, he would be relieved to be
able to give his impulses play; but certainly false on his part, who
must have time in which to get back to the old terms.
What he would do--and it would be a great concession--would be to write
directly to William upon some subject with which they had been dealing
through their lawyers. That would be a beginning, from which they could
gradually proceed to something more; and in time the past would be
forgotten. It was the only way. Neither of them would be climbing down,
and there would be no chance of still further misunderstandings, from a
correspondence about a dispute upon which they would never agree.
Yes, he would do that without delay. Perhaps the process towards
complete reconciliation would not be too protracted. His spirits rose
when he thought of that.