LADY PERSIFLAGE.
Hampstead rushed up to Hendon almost without seeing his stepmother,
intent on making preparations for his sister, and then, before
October was over, rushed back to fetch her. He was very great at
rushing, never begrudging himself any personal trouble in what he
undertook to do. When he left the house he hardly spoke to her
ladyship. When he took Lady Frances away he was of course bound to
bid her adieu.
"I think," he said, "that Frances will be happy with me at Hendon."
"I have nothing to do with it,--literally nothing," said the
Marchioness, with her sternest frown. "I wash my hands of the whole
concern."
"I am sure you would be glad that she should be happy."
"It is impossible that any one should be happy who misconducts
herself."
"That, I think, is true."
"It is certainly true, with misconduct such as this."
"I quite agree with what you said first. But the question remains as
to what is misconduct. Now--"
"I will not hear you, Hampstead; not a word. You can persuade your
father, I dare say, but you cannot persuade me. Fanny has divorced
herself from my heart for ever."
"I am sorry for that."
"And I'm bound to say that you are doing the same. It is better in
some cases to be plain."
"Oh--certainly; but not to be irrational."
"I am not irrational, and it is most improper for you to speak to me
in that way."
"Well, good-bye. I have no doubt it will come right some of these
days," said Hampstead, as he took his leave. Then he carried his
sister off to Hendon.
Previous to this there had been a great deal of unpleasantness in
the house. From the moment in which Lady Kingsbury had heard that
her stepdaughter was to go to her brother she had refused even to
speak to the unfortunate girl. As far as it was possible she put her
husband also into Coventry. She held daily consultations with Mr.
Greenwood, and spent most of her hours in embracing, coddling, and
spoiling those three unfortunate young noblemen who were being so
cruelly injured by their brother and sister. One of her keenest pangs
was in seeing how boisterously the three bairns romped with "Jack"
even after she had dismissed him from her own good graces as utterly
unworthy of her regard. That night he positively brought Lord Gregory
down into the drawing-room in his night-shirt, having dragged the
little urchin out of his cot,--as one might do who was on peculiar
terms of friendship with the mother. Lord Gregory was in Elysium, but
the mother tore the child from the sinner's arms, and carried him
back in anger to the nursery.
"Nothing does children so much good as disturbing them in their
sleep," said Lord Hampstead, turning to his father; but the anger of
the Marchioness was too serious a thing to allow of a joke.
"From this time forth for evermore she is no child of mine," said
Lady Kingsbury the next morning to her husband, as soon as the
carriage had taken the two sinners away from the door.
"It is very wrong to say that. She is your child, and must be your
child."
"I have divorced her from my heart;--and also Lord Hampstead. How
can it be otherwise, when they are both in rebellion against me? Now
there will be this disgraceful marriage. Would you wish that I should
receive the Post Office clerk here as my son-in-law?"
"There won't be any disgraceful marriage," said the Marquis. "At
least, what I mean is, that it will be much less likely at Hendon
than here."
"Less likely than here! Here it would have been impossible. There
they will be all together."
"No such thing," said the Marquis. "Hampstead will see to that. And
she too has promised me."
"Pshaw!" exclaimed the Marchioness.
"I won't have you say Pshaw to me when I tell you. Fanny always has
kept her word to me, and I don't in the least doubt her. Had she
remained here your treatment would have induced her to run away with
him at the first word."
"Lord Kingsbury," said the offended lady, "I have always done my duty
by the children of your first marriage as a mother should do. I have
found them to be violent, and altogether unaware of the duties which
their position should impose upon them. It was only yesterday that
Lord Hampstead presumed to call me irrational. I have borne a great
deal from them, and can bear no more. I wish you would have found
some one better able to control their conduct." Then, with a stately
step, she stalked out of the room. Under these circumstances, the
house was not comfortable to any of the inhabitants.
As soon as her ladyship had reached her own apartments after this
rough interview she seated herself at the table, and commenced a
letter to her sister, Lady Persiflage, in which she proceeded to
give a detailed account of all her troubles and sufferings. Lady
Persiflage, who was by a year or two the younger of the two, filled
a higher position in society than that of the Marchioness herself.
She was the wife only of an Earl; but the Earl was a Knight of the
Garter, Lord Lieutenant of his County, and at the present moment
Secretary of State for the Home Department. The Marquis had risen to
no such honours as these. Lord Persiflage was a peculiar man. Nobody
quite knew of what his great gifts consisted. But it was acknowledged
of him that he was an astute diplomat; that the honour of England was
safe in his hands; and that no more perfect courtier ever gave advice
to a well-satisfied sovereign. He was beautiful to look at, with his
soft grey hair, his bright eyes, and well-cut features. He was much
of a dandy, and, though he was known to be nearer seventy than sixty
years of age, he maintained an appearance of almost green juvenility.
Active he was not, nor learned, nor eloquent. But he knew how to hold
his own, and had held it for many years. He had married his wife when
she was very young, and she had become, first a distinguished beauty,
and then a leader of fashion. Her sister, our Marchioness, had been
past thirty when she married, and had never been quite so much in the
world's eye as her sister, Lady Persiflage. And Lady Persiflage was
the mother of her husband's heir. The young Lord Hautboy, her eldest
son, was now just of age. Lady Kingsbury looked upon him as all
that the heir to an earldom ought to be. His mother, too, was proud
of him, for he was beautiful as a young Phoebus. The Earl, his
father, was not always as well pleased, because his son had already
achieved a knack of spending money. The Persiflage estates were
somewhat encumbered, and there seemed to be a probability that Lord
Hautboy might create further trouble. Such was the family to whom
collectively the Marchioness looked for support in her unhappiness.
The letter which she wrote to her sister on the present occasion was
as follows;--
Trafford Park,
Saturday, October 25th.
MY DEAR GERALDINE,--
I take up my pen to write to you with a heart laden with
trouble. Things have become so bad with me that I do not
know where to turn myself unless you can give me comfort.
I am beginning to feel how terrible it is to have
undertaken the position of mother to another person's
children. God knows I have endeavoured to do my duty. But
it has all been in vain. Everything is over now. I have
divided myself for ever from Hampstead and from Fanny. I
have felt myself compelled to tell their father that I
have divorced them from my heart; and I have told Lord
Hampstead the same. You will understand how terrible must
have been the occasion when I found myself compelled to
take such a step as this.
You know how dreadfully shocked I was when she first
revealed to me the fact that she had promised to marry
that Post Office clerk. The young man had actually the
impudence to call on Lord Kingsbury in London, to offer
himself as a son-in-law. Kingsbury very properly would
not see him, but instructed Mr. Greenwood to do so. Mr.
Greenwood has behaved very well in the matter, and is a
great comfort to me. I hope we may be able to do something
for him some day. A viler or more ill-conditioned young
man he says that he never saw;--insolent, too, and talking
as though he had as much right to ask for Fanny's hand as
though he were one of the same class. As for that, she
would deserve nothing better than to be married to such a
man, were it not that all the world would know how closely
she is connected with my own darling boys!
Then we took her off to Königsgraaf; and such a time as
I had with her! She would write letters to this wretch,
and contrived to receive one. I did stop that, but you
cannot conceive what a life she led me. Of course I have
felt from the first that she would be divided from her
brothers, because one never knows how early bad morals may
be inculcated! Then her papa came, and Hampstead,--who in
all this has encouraged his sister. The young man is his
friend. After this who will say that any nobleman ought to
call himself what they call a Liberal? Then we came home;
and what do you think has happened? Hampstead has taken
his sister to live with him at Hendon, next door, as you
may say, to the Post Office clerk, where the young man
has made himself thoroughly at home;--and Kingsbury has
permitted it! Oh, Geraldine, that is the worst of it! Am I
not justified in declaring that I have divorced them from
my heart?
You can hardly feel as I do, you, whose son fills so well
that position which an eldest son ought to fill! Here
am I with my darlings, not only under a shade, but with
this disgrace before them which they will never be able
altogether to get rid of. I can divorce Hampstead and his
sister from my heart; but they will still be in some sort
brother and sister to my poor boys. How am I to teach them
to respect their elder brother, who I suppose must in
course of time become Head of the House, when he is hand
and glove with a dreadful young man such as that! Am I not
justified in declaring that no communication shall be kept
up between the two families? If she marries the man she
will of course drop the name; but yet all the world will
know because of the title. As for him, I am afraid that
there is no hope;--although it is odd that the second son
does so very often come to the title. If you look into it
you will find that the second brother has almost a better
chance than the elder,--although I am sure that nothing of
the kind will ever happen to dear Hautboy. But he knows
how to live in that state of life to which it has pleased
God to call him! Do write to me at once, and tell me what
I ought to do with a due regard to the position to which I
have been called upon to fill in the world.
Your most affectionate sister,
CLARA KINGSBURY.
P.S.--Do remember poor Mr. Greenwood if Lord Persiflage
should know how to do something for a clergyman. He is
getting old, and Kingsbury has never been able to do
anything for him. I hope the Liberals never will be able
to do anything for anybody. I don't think Mr. Greenwood
would be fit for any duty, because he has been idle all
his life, and is now fond of good living; but a deanery
would just suit him.
After the interval of a fortnight Lady Kingsbury received a reply
from her sister which the reader may as well see at once.
Castle Hautboy,
November 9th.
MY DEAR CLARA,--
I don't know that there is anything further to be done
about Fanny. As for divorcing her from your heart, I don't
suppose that it amounts to much. I advise you to keep on
good terms with Hampstead, because if anything were to
happen, it is always well for the Dowager to be friends
with the heir. If Fanny will marry the man she must. Lady
Di Peacocke married Mr. Billyboy, who was a clerk in one
of the offices. They made him Assistant Secretary, and
they now live in Portugal Street and do very well. I see
Lady Diana about everywhere. Mr. Billyboy can't keep a
carriage for her, but that of course is her look-out.
As to what you say about second sons succeeding, don't
think of it. It would get you into a bad frame of mind,
and make you hate the very person upon whom you will
probably have to depend for much of your comfort.
I think you should take things easier, and, above all, do
not trouble your husband. I am sure he could make himself
very unpleasant if he were driven too far. Persiflage has
no clerical patronage whatever, and would not interfere
about Deans or Bishops for all the world. I suppose he
could appoint a Chaplain to an Embassy, but your clergyman
seems to be too old and too idle for that.
Your affectionate sister,
GERALDINE PERSIFLAGE.
This letter brought very little comfort to the distracted
Marchioness. There was much in it so cold that it offended her
deeply, and for a moment prompted her almost to divorce also Lady
Persiflage from her heart. Lady Persiflage seemed to think that
Fanny should be absolutely encouraged to marry the Post Office clerk,
because at some past period some Lady Diana, who at the time was
near fifty, had married a clerk also. It might be that a Lady Diana
should have run away with a groom, but would that be a reason why so
monstrous a crime should be repeated? And then in this letter there
was so absolute an absence of all affectionate regard for her own
children! She had spoken with great love of Lord Hautboy; but then
Lord Hautboy was the acknowledged heir, whereas her own children were
nobodies. In this there lay the sting. And then she felt herself to
have been rebuked because she had hinted at the possibility of Lord
Hampstead's departure for a better world. Lord Hampstead was mortal,
as well as others. And why should not his death be contemplated,
especially as it would confer so great a benefit on the world at
large? Her sister's letter persuaded her of nothing. The divorce
should remain as complete as ever. She would not condescend to think
of any future advantages which might accrue to her from any intimacy
with her stepson. Her dower had been regularly settled. Her duty
was to her own children,--and secondly to her husband. If she could
succeed in turning him against these two wicked elder children, then
she would omit to do nothing which might render his life pleasant to
him. Such were the resolutions which she formed on receipt of her
sister's letter.
About this time Lord Kingsbury found it necessary to say a few words
to Mr. Greenwood. There had not of late been much expression of
kindness from the Marquis to the clergyman. Since their return from
Germany his lordship had been either taciturn or cross. Mr. Greenwood
took this very much to heart. For though he was most anxious to
assure to himself the friendship of the Marchioness he did not at
all wish to neglect the Marquis. It was in truth on the Marquis that
he depended for everything that he had in the world. The Marquis
could send him out of the house to-morrow,--and if this house were
closed to him, none other, as far as he knew, would be open to
him except the Union. He had lived delicately all his life, and
luxuriously,--but fruitlessly as regarded the gathering of any honey
for future wants. Whatever small scraps of preferment might have come
in his way had been rejected as having been joined with too much
of labour and too little of emolument. He had gone on hoping that
so great a man as the Marquis would be able to do something for
him,--thinking that he might at any rate fasten his patron closely to
him by bonds of affection. This had been in days before the coming
of the present Marchioness. At first she had not created any special
difficulty for him. She did not at once attempt to overthrow the
settled politics of the family, and Mr. Greenwood had been allowed to
be blandly liberal. But during the last year or two, great management
had been necessary. By degrees he had found it essential to fall into
the conservative views of her ladyship,--which extended simply to
the idea that the cream of the earth should be allowed to be the
cream of the earth. It is difficult in the same house to adhere to
two political doctrines, because the holders of each will require
support at all general meetings. Gradually the Marchioness had become
exigeant, and the Marquis was becoming aware that he was being thrown
over. A feeling of anger was growing up in his mind which he did not
himself analyze. When he heard that the clergyman had taken upon
himself to lecture Lady Frances,--for it was thus he read the few
words which his son had spoken to him,--he carried his anger with him
for a day or two, till at last he found an opportunity of explaining
himself to the culprit.
"Lady Frances will do very well where she is," said the Marquis, in
answer to some expression of a wish as to his daughter's comfort.
"Oh, no doubt!"
"I am not sure that I am fond of too much interference in such
matters."
"Have I interfered, my lord?"
"I do not mean to find any special fault on this occasion."
"I hope not, my lord."
"But you did speak to Lady Frances when I think it might have been as
well that you should have held your tongue."
"I had been instructed to see that young man in London."
"Exactly;--but not to say anything to Lady Frances."
"I had known her ladyship so many years!"
"Do not drive me to say that you had known her too long."
Mr. Greenwood felt this to be very hard;--for what he had said to
Lady Frances he had in truth said under instruction. That last
speech as to having perhaps known the young lady too long seemed to
contain a terrible threat. He was thus driven to fall back upon his
instructions. "Her ladyship seemed to think that perhaps a word in
season--"
The Marquis felt this to be cowardly, and was more inclined to be
angry with his old friend than if he had stuck to that former plea
of old friendship. "I will not have interference in this house, and
there's an end of it. If I wish you to do anything for me I will tell
you. That is all. If you please nothing more shall be said about it.
The subject is disagreeable to me."
* * * * * *
"Has the Marquis said anything about Lady Frances since she went?"
the Marchioness asked the clergyman the next morning. How was he to
hold his balance between them if he was to be questioned by both
sides in this way? "I suppose he has mentioned her?"
"He just mentioned the name one day."
"Well?"
"I rather think that he does not wish to be interrogated about her
ladyship."
"I dare say not. Is he anxious to have her back again?"
"That I cannot say, Lady Kingsbury. I should think he must be."
"Of course I shall be desirous to ascertain the truth. He has been so
unreasonable that I hardly know how to speak to him myself. I suppose
he tells you!"
"I rather think his lordship will decline to speak about her ladyship
just at present."
"Of course it is necessary that I should know. Now that she has
chosen to take herself off I shall not choose to live under the same
roof with her again. If Lord Kingsbury speaks to you on the subject
you should make him understand that." Poor Mr. Greenwood felt that
there were thorny paths before him, in which it might be very
difficult to guard his feet from pricks. Then he had to consider if
there were to be two sides in the house, strongly opposed to each
other, with which would it be best for him to take a part? The houses
of the Marquis, with all their comforts, were open for him; but the
influence of Lord Persiflage was very great, whereas that of the
Marquis was next to nothing.