IS VICTORIAN IN THE BEST SENSE
IN Grosvenor Square, at this period, rose-color was not the prevailing
hue. The Proconsul had declined to attend the wedding. Moreover, he had
given Mr. Philip clearly to understand that Mrs. Philip would not be
_persona gratissima_ in Grosvenor Square. The attitude was perfectly
“regular” in the circumstances; all the same, it hardly increased the
common stock of human amenity. And he was quite an affectionate father,
even if a somewhat despotic one, which, after all, is not an unexpected
trait in a middle-aged gentleman who has made a great success of the
art of governing others.
The attitude of the Proconsul is hardly one to commend to parents and
guardians in general. And unfortunately Mother upheld the Proconsul in
his frowardness. She, too, as had so many Colthursts of Suffolk before
her, formed the fatal habit of governing others. And she, too, having
been thwarted in a pet design, and moreover, having had to submit to
a pretty shrewd buffet from the venerable relative of The Person, was
inclined to behave with unwisdom.
It is a great pity that Grosvenor Square has to be shown in this light.
Both Father and Mother ought really to have known so very much better.
It was really very wrong; and they made themselves rather miserable
into the bargain.
Mother thought Father ought to have been firmer. Father thought that
Mother ought to have kept clear of Bedford Gardens, and all would have
been well. Mother thought that Father’s handling of the whole matter
was hardly worthy of a Proconsul. Father was grieved that Agatha should
talk in that way, since it would be idle to pretend that she had shown
her usual Tact.
Nevertheless, there was one aspect of the affair that really astonished
both of them immensely. It was the attitude taken up by a much-injured
man and a thwarted father-in-law when they ventured to condole with
him, and perhaps incidentally to obtain a little balm for their own
wounded feelings.
Father and Mother were frankly amazed that their standpoint had to
forego the sanction of His Britannic Majesty’s Ambassador to Persia.
“Fact is, Shelmerdine,” said my lord, “the young fool has done a dashed
sight better for himself than by marrying this girl of mine.”
Mother was amazed at such levity proceeding from such a quarter; and
rather pointedly she said so.
“We must look facts in the face,” said my lord robustly. “She is an
uncommonly able young woman, and one of these days you’ll remember that
I’ve said so.”
“I don’t think I like ability in women,” said Mother.
Oh, Mother! And you, by common consent, one of the ablest women in
Grosvenor Square and its environs.
“It’s a useful thing to keep in the house, though,” said the
Ex-Ambassador.
Still, Mother was not in the least resigned to what she considered an
exhibition of cynicism.
“One is really surprised at _you_, Lord Warlock--you who know the world
so well.”
And yet it would be hardly safe to assume that Mother was wholly
sincere in her admonition of this elderly diplomatist. She didn’t
subscribe to his ignoble point of view; she never could and never would
subscribe to it; but it would hardly be safe to assume that Mother was
seriously displeased that a man of such penetration should entertain it.
Still, she had to labor the Victorian Attitude a little in order to
cope with one so unexpected.
“If only she had been a--”
The Ex-Ambassadorial chuckle brought Mother up short.
“We shall see what we shall see, dear lady.”
Mother wished my lord would not be so cryptic. All the same, she rather
liked the air of confidence.
“An old professional family, even of that kind, must have gathered its
traditions, Agatha,” said S. of P.
“Fact is, Shelmerdine,” said the Friend of the Family, “the young
fellow has done a dashed sight better than anybody thinks he has--and a
dashed sight better than he deserves, if you want my candid opinion.”
Neither Father nor Mother appeared to want this candid opinion
particularly, and yet they didn’t appear very sorry to have it. And
they went home feeling a little brighter for this interview; and,
perhaps shaken a little in the Victorian Attitude. It was inconceivable
that _She_ would ever be able to do them credit; but might it not be
that they had alarmed themselves a little unduly?
Still, it is easier, as a rule, to support the ills of others than to
bear one’s own. It was very well for Warlock to take this optimistic
view; but Philip was not his son, and She was not his daughter-in-law.
Nevertheless, they were glad, on the whole, that the wind had been
tempered for them in this quarter. They didn’t feel very forgiving just
at present, though.
A little light was thrown upon the unlooked-for magnanimity of the
Friend of the Family about a week later. For this the _Morning Post_
was responsible, and the illumination was the following:--
“A marriage has been arranged and will shortly take place between
the Marquis of Craigenputtock, eldest son of the Duke and Duchess of
Dumbarton, and the Lady Adela Rocklaw, youngest daughter of the Earl of
Warlock, K. C. M. G.”
Everything for the best in the best of all possible worlds, you see.
Father and Mother rejoiced, of course, at this cheering announcement;
yet they did not seem exactly to overflow with joy when they called to
convey their felicitations to dear Adela and her papa. But more than
ever now were they inclined to doubt the _bona fides_ of the latter in
respect of the brave face he had put on their common misfortune.
Still, most warmly and affectionately did they congratulate Dumbarton’s
future duchess, whom they had the signal good fortune to find in black
velvet with the Himalayan Dust Spaniel reclining at her feet.
The Happy Young Man, twenty-two years of age and rather fine drawn, was
handing tea-cake. Pa had rather a twinkle in his eye--Pa had no right
to let it be seen, though--when he presented the young fellow to Mother
and Father; and Mother and Father congratulated him with the greatest
warmth and spontaneity.
The felicitations were accepted of course in the spirit in which they
were offered; and for our part we are very glad that dear Adela was
able to let bygones be bygones, for, as all the world knew, Father and
Mother had not been in the least to blame. Besides, it shows there was
a core of magnanimity in the girl, and for this even we were hardly
prepared, if we must confess the truth.
Pray do not think that Adela’s good fortune was a mere figure of
speech, since there was every reason to believe that the latest Scalp
depending from the girdle of the Huntress was in all respects a very
choice specimen. He looked one, certainly; and Mother, who was quite
competent to form an opinion on such an abstruse subject, could tell
by the way in which he handed hot buttered tea-cake that he had a
beautiful nature.
Then Father had been at Eton with his father, and that, of course, was
another point in the young man’s favor.
“By the way,” said the Ex-Ambassador, “I see in _The Thunderer_ this
morning that Philip is going into politics.”
This was news for Father. Mother was incredulous.
“And as a Tag, Rag and Bobtail, if you please,” said Pa quietly.
Father it was who was now smitten with incredulity.
“Impossible,” he said.
Pa sent for _The Thunderer_, and there it was, as plain as your
hand, that Mr. Philip Shelmerdine, the son of Lord Shelmerdine of
Potterhanworth, had been adopted by the party of progress to fight
their cause at Blackhampton.
“Boy must be insane,” said Father. “He won’t get in, at any
rate--there’s that consolation. I don’t know any man more unfitted for
public life.”
“He may learn a wrinkle or two, though, Shelmerdine. A deuced clever
wife he’s married, you know.”
“He’ll need a clever wife if he is going to get in as a Rag at
Blackhampton. It’s--it’s an act of insanity.”
Then it was that Adela’s young man made his _faux pas_.
“Married the celebrated actress, didn’t he?” said Adela’s young man.
The only thing to be said for him is that he was not at all well up in
recent history.
Silence--complete and rather profound.
“I remember seeing her in a pantomime at Christmas, and I thought she
was the jolliest girl I had ever seen--on the stage, I mean.”
The afterthought sounded sincere; and the whole speech was animated
by the best of intentions. But it really was not very clever of the
young fellow. Yes, young fellow, this was a passage in which you did
not shine particularly. Dumbarton’s future duchess scowled at you--it
would be idle to pretend that she didn’t--Mother looked daggers;
the great Proconsul’s eyebrows said, “Shut up, you young fool,” as
audibly as eyebrows could indulge in that expression; and your future
father-in-law had that satyr-like air which most people thought so
damned unpleasant; but to you, young man, in your heedlessness, these
signs and portents were without significance.
Your tenantry will doubtless keep always a warm corner for you in
their hearts; and when you lead your charming bride to the altar you
will be the recipient of a massive silver tea-service, no doubt; but
if you continue in this way it is unlikely that posterity will be able
to point out your effigy in marble, and in knee-breeches, too, to its
great grandchildren as it walks along Whitehall. Yes, really a very
tactless young fellow.
“Warlock,” said Father bitterly, “I think that boy of mine must be mad.
I wouldn’t have had this happen for a very great deal. I don’t know
what Vandeleur will think, I’m sure.”
“I can tell you, Shelmerdine,” said the possessor of the satyr-like
air, smiling grimly at the empty fireplace. “Vandeleur will think there
is no tooth so keen as man’s ingratitude.”
“Warlock,” said Father, with clenched hands, “it’s damnable. And
Vandeleur morbidly sensitive, too, on the question of personal loyalty.
Can’t we stop the young scoundrel?”
Warlock, speaking in mournful accents proper to a Constitutional
crisis, failed to see how the young scoundrel could be stopped without
invoking the aid of a commission in lunacy.
“Fellow’s mad enough, Warlock, if it comes to that.”
“Certainly, Shelmerdine, his latest action has all the appearance of
insanity.”
“This must go no farther, Warlock,” said the imperious Ex-Resident of
Barataria, North-West.
“I really hope it may not,” said the Ex-Ambassador; “for the sake of
you, for the sake of us, for the sake of Vandeleur, for the sake of the
Empire.”
A skeptical judgment might have doubted the sincerity of such a speech
proceeding from such a quarter, but Father and Mother accepted it in
simple good faith.