Marion Fay: A Novel

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER X.

  "NOBLESSE OBLIGE."

  "I quite agree," said Hampstead, endeavouring to discuss the matterrationally with his sister, "that her ladyship should not be allowedto torment you."

  "She does torment me. You cannot perceive what my life was atKoenigsgraaf! There is a kind of usage which would drive any girl torun away,--or to drown herself. I don't suppose a man can know whatit is always to be frowned at. A man has his own friends, and cango anywhere. His spirits are not broken by being isolated. He wouldnot even see half the things which a girl is made to feel. The veryservants were encouraged to treat me badly. The boys were not allowedto come near me. I never heard a word that was not intended to besevere."

  "I am sure it was bad."

  "And it was not made better by the conviction that she has nevercared for me. It is to suffer all the authority, but to enjoy noneof the love of a mother. When papa came of course it was better; buteven papa cannot make her change her ways. A man is comparatively sovery little in the house. If it goes on it will drive me mad."

  "Of course I'll stand to you."

  "Oh, John, I am sure you will."

  "But it isn't altogether easy to know how to set about it. If we wereto keep house together at Hendon--" As he made this proposition alook of joy came over her face, and shone amidst her tears. "Therewould, of course, be a difficulty."

  "What difficulty?" She, however, knew well what would be thedifficulty.

  "George Roden would be too near to us."

  "I should never see him unless you approved."

  "I should not approve. That would be the difficulty. He would arguethe matter with me, and I should have to tell him that I could notlet him come to the house, except with my father's leave. That wouldbe out of the question. And therefore, as I say, there would be adifficulty."

  "I would never see him,--except with your sanction,--nor write tohim,--nor receive letters from him. You are not to suppose that Iwould give him up. I shall never do that. I shall go on and wait.When a girl has once brought herself to tell a man that she loveshim, according to my idea she cannot give him up. There are thingswhich cannot be changed. I could have lived very well withoutthinking of him had I not encouraged myself to love him. But I havedone that, and now he must be everything to me."

  "I am sorry that it should be so."

  "It is so. But if you will take me to Hendon I will never see himtill I have papa's leave. It is my duty to obey him,--but not her."

  "I am not quite clear about that."

  "She has rejected me as a daughter, and therefore I reject her as amother. She would get rid of us both if she could."

  "You should not attribute to her any such thoughts."

  "If you saw her as often as I do you would know. She hates you almostas much as me,--though she cannot show it so easily."

  "That she should hate my theories I can easily understand."

  "You stand in her way."

  "Of course I do. It is natural that a woman should wish to have thebest for her own children. I have sometimes myself felt it to bea pity that Frederic should have an elder brother. Think what agallant young Marquis he would make, while I am altogether out of myelement."

  "That is nonsense, John."

  "I ought to have been a tailor. Tailors, I think, are generally themost ill-conditioned, sceptical, and patriotic of men. Had my naturalpropensities been sharpened by the difficulty of maintaining a wifeand children upon seven and sixpence a day, I really think I couldhave done something to make myself conspicuous. As it is, I amneither one thing nor another; neither fish nor fowl nor good redherring. To the mind devoted to marquises I can understand that Ishould be a revolting being. I have no aptitudes for aristocraticprettinesses. Her ladyship has three sons, either of which would makea perfect marquis. How is it possible that she should not think thatI am standing in her way?"

  "But she knew of your existence when she married papa."

  "No doubt she did;--but that does not alter her nature. I think Icould find it in my heart to forgive her, even though she attemptedto poison me, so much do I stand in her way. I have sometimesthought that I ought to repudiate myself; give up my prospects, andcall myself John Trafford--so as to make way for her more lordlylordlings."

  "That is nonsense, John."

  "At any rate it is impossible. I could only do it by blowing mybrains out--which would not be in accordance with my ideas of life.But you are not in anybody's way. There is nothing to be got bypoisoning you. If she were to murder me there would be somethingreasonable in it,--something that one could pardon; but in torturingyou she is instigated by a vile ambition. She is afraid, lest her ownposition should be tarnished by an inferior marriage on your part.There would be something noble in killing me for the sake of dearlittle Fred. She would be getting something for him who, of course,is most dear to her. But the other is the meanest vanity;--and I willnot stand it."

  This conversation took place early in October, when they had beensome weeks at Trafford Park. Hampstead had come and gone, as was hiswont, never remaining there above two or three days at a time. LordKingsbury, who was ill at ease, had run hither and thither aboutthe country, looking after this or the other property, and stayingfor a day or two with this or the other friend. The Marchioness haddeclined to invite any friends to the house, declaring to her husbandthat the family was made unfit for gaiety by the wicked conduct ofhis eldest daughter. There was no attempt at shooting the pheasants,or even preparing to shoot them, so great was the general depression.Mr. Greenwood was there, and was thrown into very close intercoursewith her ladyship. He fully sympathized with her ladyship. Althoughhe had always agreed with the Marquis,--as he had not forgotten totell George Roden during that interview in London,--in regard tohis lordship's early political tenets, nevertheless his mind was soconstituted that he was quite at one with her ladyship as to thedisgraceful horror of low associations for noble families. Not onlydid he sympathize as to the abomination of the Post Office clerk, buthe sympathized also fully as to the positive unfitness which LordHampstead displayed for that station in life to which he had beencalled. Mr. Greenwood would sigh and wheeze and groan when the futureprospects of the House of Trafford were discussed between him and herladyship. It might be, or it might not be, well,--so he kindly putit in talking to the Marchioness,--that a nobleman should indulgehimself with liberal politics; but it was dreadful to think thatthe heir to a great title should condescend to opinions worthy of aradical tailor. For Mr. Greenwood agreed with Lord Hampstead aboutthe tailor. Lord Hampstead seemed to him to be a matter simply forsorrow,--not for action. Nothing, he thought, could be done in regardto Lord Hampstead. Time,--time that destroys but which also cures somany things,--would no doubt have its effect; so that Lord Hampsteadmight in the fulness of years live to be as staunch a supporter ofhis class as any Duke or Marquis living. Or perhaps,--perhaps, itmight be that the Lord would take him. Mr. Greenwood saw that thisremark was more to the purpose, and at once went to work with thePeerage, and found a score of cases in which, within half-a-century,the second brother had risen to the title. It seemed, indeed, to bethe case that a peculiar mortality attached itself to the eldest sonsof Peers. This was comforting. But there was not in it so much groundfor positive action as at the present moment existed in regard toLady Frances. On this matter there was a complete unison of spiritbetween the two friends.

  Mr. Greenwood had seen the objectionable young man, and could say howthoroughly objectionable he was at all points,--how vulgar, flippant,ignorant, impudent, exactly what a clerk in the Post Office mightbe expected to be. Any severity, according to Mr. Greenwood, wouldbe justified in keeping the two young persons apart. Gradually Mr.Greenwood learnt to talk of the female young person with very littleof that respect which he showed to other members of the family. Inthis way her ladyship came to regard Lady Frances as though she werenot Lady Frances at all,--as though she were some distant FannyTrafford, a girl of bad taste and evil conduct, who had unfortunatelybeen br
ought into the family on grounds of mistaken charity.

  Things had so gone on at Trafford, that Trafford had hardly beenpreferable to Koenigsgraaf. Indeed, at Koenigsgraaf there had beenno Mr. Greenwood, and Mr. Greenwood had certainly added much tothe annoyances which poor Lady Frances was made to bear. In thiscondition of things she had written to her brother, begging him tocome to her. He had come, and thus had taken place the conversationwhich has been given above.

  On the same day Hampstead saw his father and discussed the matterwith him;--that matter, and, as will be seen, some others also. "Whaton earth do you wish me to do about her?" asked the Marquis.

  "Let her come and live with me at Hendon. If you will let me have thehouse I will take all the rest upon myself."

  "Keep an establishment of your own?"

  "Why not? If I found I couldn't afford it I'd give up the hunting andstick to the yacht."

  "It isn't about money," said the Marquis, shaking his head.

  "Her ladyship never liked Hendon for herself."

  "Nor is it about the house. You might have the house and welcome. Buthow can I give up my charge over your sister just when I know thatshe is disposed to do just what she ought not."

  "She won't be a bit more likely to do it there than here," said thebrother.

  "He would be quite close to her."

  "You may take this for granted, sir, that no two persons would bemore thoroughly guided by a sense of duty than my sister and GeorgeRoden."

  "Did she show her duty when she allowed herself to be engaged to aman like that without saying a word to any of her family."

  "She told her ladyship as soon as it occurred."

  "She should not have allowed it to have occurred at all. It isnonsense talking like that. You cannot mean to say that such a girlas your sister is entitled to do what she likes with herself withoutconsulting any of her family,--even to accepting such a man as thisfor her lover."

  "I hardly know," said Hampstead, thoughtfully.

  "You ought to know. I know. Everybody knows. It is nonsense talkinglike that."

  "I doubt whether people do know," said Hampstead. "She is twenty-one,and as far as the law goes might, I believe, walk out of the house,and marry any man she pleases to-morrow. You as her father have noauthority over her whatever;"--here the indignant father jumpedup from his chair; but his son went on with his speech, as thoughdetermined not to be interrupted,--"except what may come to you byher good feeling, or else from the fact that she is dependent on youfor her maintenance."

  "Good G----!" shouted the Marquis.

  "I think this is about the truth of it. Young ladies do subjectthemselves to the authority of their parents from feeling, from love,and from dependence; but, as far as I understand in the matter, theyare not legally subject beyond a certain age."

  "You'd talk the hind legs off a dog."

  "I wish I could. But one may say a few words without being soeloquent as that. If such is the case I am not sure that Fanny hasbeen morally wrong. She may have been foolish. I think she has been,because I feel that the marriage is not suitable for her."

  "Noblesse oblige," said the Marquis, putting his hand upon his bosom.

  "No doubt. Nobility, whatever may be its nature, imposes bonds on us.And if these bonds be not obeyed, then nobility ceases. But I denythat any nobility can bind us to any conduct which we believe to bewrong."

  "Who has said that it does?"

  "Nobility," continued the son, not regarding his father's question,"cannot bind me to do that which you or others think to be right, ifI do not approve it myself."

  "What on earth are you driving at?"

  "You imply that because I belong to a certain order,--or mysister,--we are bound to those practices of life which that orderregards with favour. This I deny both on her behalf and my own.I didn't make myself the eldest son of an English peer. I doacknowledge that as very much has been given to me in the way ofeducation, of social advantages, and even of money, a higher line ofconduct is justly demanded from me than from those who have been lessgifted. So far, _noblesse oblige_. But before I undertake the dutythus imposed upon me, I must find out what is that higher line ofconduct. Fanny should do the same. In marrying George Roden she woulddo better, according to your maxim, than in giving herself to somenoodle of a lord who from first to last will have nothing to be proudof beyond his acres and his title."

  The Marquis had been walking about the room impatiently, while hisdidactic son was struggling to explain his own theory as to thosewords _noblesse oblige_. Nothing could so plainly express thefeelings of the Marquis on the occasion as that illustration of hisas to the dog's hind legs. But he was a little ashamed of it, and didnot dare to use it twice on the same occasion. He fretted and fumed,and would have stopped Hampstead had it been possible; but Hampsteadwas irrepressible when he had become warm on his own themes, and hisfather knew that he must listen on to the bitter end. "I won't haveher go to Hendon at all," he said, when his son had finished.

  "Then you will understand little of her nature,--or of mine. Rodenwill not come near her there. I can hardly be sure that he will notdo so here. Here Fanny will feel that she is being treated as anenemy."

  "You have no right to say so."

  "There she will know that you have done much to promote herhappiness. I will give you my assurance that she will neither see himnor write to him. She has promised as much to me herself, and I cantrust her."

  "Why should she be so anxious to leave her natural home?"

  "Because," said Hampstead boldly, "she has lost her natural mother."The Marquis frowned awfully at hearing this. "I have not a word tosay against my stepmother as to myself. I will not accuse her ofanything as to Fanny,--except that they thoroughly misunderstand eachother. You must see it yourself, sir." The Marquis had seen it verythoroughly. "And Mr. Greenwood has taken upon himself to speak toher,--which was, I think, very impertinent."

  "I never authorized him."

  "But he did. Her ladyship no doubt authorized him. The end of it isthat Fanny is watched. Of course she will not bear a continuation ofsuch misery. Why should she? It will be better that she should cometo me than be driven to go off with her lover."

  Before the week was over the Marquis had yielded. Hendon Hall was tobe given up altogether to Lord Hampstead, and his sister was to beallowed to live with him as the mistress of his house. She was tocome in the course of next month, and remain there at any rate tillthe spring. There would be a difficulty about the hunting, no doubt,but that Hampstead if necessary was prepared to abandon for theseason. He thought that perhaps he might be able to run down twicea week to the Vale of Aylesbury, going across from Hendon to theWillesden Junction. He would at any rate make his sister's comfortthe first object of his life, and would take care that in doing soGeorge Roden should be excluded altogether from the arrangement.

  The Marchioness was paralyzed when she heard that Lady Frances was tobe taken away,--to be taken into the direct neighbourhood of Londonand the Post Office. Very many words she said to her husband, andoften the Marquis vacillated. But, when once the promise was given,Lady Frances was strong enough to demand its fulfilment. It was onthis occasion that the Marchioness first allowed herself to speak toMr. Greenwood with absolute disapproval of her husband. "To HendonHall!" said Mr. Greenwood, holding up his hands with surprise whenthe project was explained.

  "Yes, indeed! It does seem to me to be the most,--most improper sortof thing to do."

  "He can walk over there every day as soon as he has got rid of theletters." Mr. Greenwood probably thought that George Roden was sentabout with the Post Office bags.

  "Of course they will meet."

  "I fear so, Lady Kingsbury."

  "Hampstead will arrange that for them."

  "No, no!" said the clergyman, as though he were bound on behalf ofthe family to repudiate an idea that was so damnatory to its honour.

  "It is just what he will do. Why else should he want to have herthere? With his ideas he would thin
k it the best thing he coulddo utterly to degrade us all. He has no idea of the honour of hisbrothers. How should he, when he is so anxious to sacrifice his ownsister? As for me, of course, he would do anything to break my heart.He knows that I am anxious for his father's name, and, therefore, hewould disgrace me in any way that was possible. But that the Marquisshould consent!"

  "That is what I cannot understand," said Mr. Greenwood.

  "There must be something in it, Mr. Greenwood, which they mean tokeep from me."

  "The Marquis can't intend to give her to that young man!"

  "I don't understand it. I don't understand it at all," said theMarchioness. "He did seem so firm about it. As for the girl herself,I will never see her again after she has left my house in such afashion. And, to tell the truth, I never wish to see Hampstead again.They are plotting against me; and if there is anything I hate it isa plot." In this way Mr. Greenwood and the Marchioness became boundtogether in their great disapproval of Lady Frances and her love.