Marion Fay: A Novel

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER X.

  KING'S COURT, OLD BROAD STREET.

  Hampstead received the letter from Lady Kingsbury, and answered iton Saturday, the 3rd of January, having at that time taken no activesteps in regard to Marion Fay after the rejection of his suit on theday following Christmas. Eight days had thus elapsed, and he had donenothing. He had done nothing, though there was not an hour in theday in which he was not confirming his own resolve to do somethingby which he might make Marion Fay his own. He felt that he couldhardly go to the girl again immediately after the expression of herresolution. At first he thought that he would write to her, and didsit down to the table for that purpose; but as he strove to producewords which might move her, he told himself that the words which hemight speak would be better. Then he rode half way to Holloway, withthe object of asking aid from Mrs. Roden; but he returned withoutcompleting his purpose, telling himself that any such aid, even if itcould be obtained, would avail him nothing. In such a contest, if aman cannot succeed by his own doing, surely he will not do so by theassistance of any one else; and thus he was in doubt.

  After having written to Lady Kingsbury and his father he reflectedthat, in his father's state of health, he ought to go again toTrafford Park. If it were only for a day or for an hour he ought tosee his father. He knew that he was not wanted by his stepmother. Heknew also that no desire to see him had reached him from the Marquis.He was afraid that the Marquis himself did not wish to see him. Itwas almost impossible for him to take his sister to the house unlessan especial demand for her attendance was made; and he could notvery well leave her alone for any lengthened period. Nevertheless hedetermined to make a rapid run into Shropshire, with the intentionof returning the following day, unless he found the state of hisfather's health so bad as to make it expedient that he should remain.He intended to hunt on the Monday and the Tuesday, travelling fromLondon to Leighton and back. But he would leave London by the nightmail train from Paddington on Wednesday evening so as to reachTrafford Park House on the following morning between four and five.It was a journey which he had often made before in the same manner,and to which the servants at Trafford were well accustomed. Even atthat time in the morning he would walk to the Park from the station,which was four miles distant, leaving his luggage, if he had any, tobe sent for on the following morning; but he would usually travelwithout luggage, having all things necessary for his use in his ownroom at Trafford.

  It had hitherto been his custom to acquaint his sister with hismanoeuvres on these occasions, having never been free in hiscorrespondence with his stepmother. He had written or telegraphedto Lady Frances, and she had quite understood that his instructions,whatever they might be, were to be obeyed. But Lady Frances was nolonger a resident at Trafford Park, and he therefore telegraphed tothe old butler, who had been a servant in the family from a periodprevious to his own birth. This telegram he sent on the Monday, asfollows;--"Shall be at Trafford Thursday morning, 4.30 A.M. Will walkover. Let Dick be up. Have room ready. Tell my father." He fixedWednesday night for his journey, having made up his mind to devote aportion of the Wednesday morning to the business which he had on handin reference to Marion Fay.

  It was not the proper thing, he thought, to go to a girl's fatherfor permission to ask the girl to be his wife, before the girl hadherself assented; but the circumstances in this case were peculiar.It had seemed to him that Marion's only reason for rejecting him wasbased on disparity in their social condition,--which to his thinkingwas the worst reason that could be given. It might be that the reasonhad sprung from some absurd idea originating with the Quaker father;or it might be that the Quaker father would altogether disapprove ofany such reason. At any rate he would be glad to know whether the oldman was for him or against him. And with the object of ascertainingthis, he determined that he would pay a visit to the office in King'sCourt on the Wednesday morning. He could not endure the thoughtof leaving London,--it might be for much more than the one dayintended,--without making some effort in regard to the object whichwas nearest his heart.

  Early in the day he walked into Messrs. Pogson and Littlebird'soffice, and saw Mr. Tribbledale seated on a high stool behind a hugedesk, which nearly filled up the whole place. He was rather struckby the smallness and meanness of Messrs. Pogson and Littlebird'spremises, which, from a certain nobility belonging to the Quaker'sappearance, he would have thought to be spacious and important.It is impossible not to connect ideas after this fashion. Pogsonand Littlebird themselves carried in their own names no flavour ofcommercial grandeur. Had they been only known to Hampstead by theirname, any small mercantile retreat at the top of the meanest alley inthe City might have sufficed for them. But there was something in thedemeanour of Zachary Fay which seemed to give promise of one of thosepalaces of trade which are now being erected in every street and lanedevoted in the City to business. Nothing could be less palatial thanPogson and Littlebird's counting-house. Hampstead had entered itfrom a little court, which it seemed to share with one other equallyunimportant tenement opposite to it, by a narrow low passage. Here hesaw two doors only, through one of which he passed, as it was open,having noticed that the word "Private" was written on the other. Herehe found himself face to face with Tribbledale and with a little boywho sat at Tribbledale's right hand on a stool equally high. Of thesetwo, as far as he could see, consisted the establishment of Messrs.Pogson and Littlebird. "Could I see Mr. Fay?" asked Hampstead.

  "Business?" suggested Tribbledale.

  "Not exactly. That is to say, my business is private."

  Then there appeared a face looking at him over a screen about fivefeet and a-half high, which divided off from the small apartment amuch smaller apartment, having, as Hampstead now regarded it, theappearance of a cage. In this cage, small as it was, there was adesk, and there were two chairs; and here Zachary Fay carried onthe business of his life, and transacted most of those affairsappertaining to Messrs. Pogson and Littlebird which could beperformed in an office. Messrs. Pogson and Littlebird themselves,though they had a room of their own, to which that door marked"Private" belonged, were generally supposed to be walking on 'Changeas British merchants should do, or making purchases of whole ships'cargos in the Docks, or discounting bills, the least of which wouldprobably represent L10,000. The face which looked over the barrier ofthe cage at Lord Hampstead was of course that of Zachary Fay. "LordHampstead!" he said, with surprise.

  "Oh, Mr. Fay, how do you do? I have something I want to say to you.Could you spare me five minutes?"

  The Quaker opened the door of the cage and asked Lord Hampstead towalk in. Tribbledale, who had heard and recognized the name, staredhard at the young nobleman,--at his friend Crocker's noble friend, atthe lord of whom it had been asserted positively that he was engagedto marry Mr. Fay's daughter. The boy, too, having heard that thevisitor was a lord, stared also. Hampstead did as he was bid, butremembering that the inhabitant of the cage had at once heard whathad been said in the office, felt that it would be impossible for himto carry on his conversation about Marion without other protectionfrom the ears of the world. "It is a little private what I have tosay," remarked Hampstead.

  The Quaker looked towards the private room. "Old Mr. Pogson isthere," whispered Tribbledale. "I heard him come in a quarter of anhour ago."

  "Perhaps thou wouldst not mind walking up and down the yard," saidthe Quaker. Hampstead of course walked out, but on looking abouthim found that the court was very small for the communication whichhe had to make. Space would be required, so that he might not betroubled by turning when he was in the midst of his eloquence.Half-a-dozen steps would carry him the whole length of King's Court;and who could tell his love-story in a walk limited to six steps?

  "Perhaps we might go out into the street?" he suggested.

  "Certainly, my lord," said the Quaker. "Tribbledale, should any onecall before I return, and be unable to wait for five minutes, I shallbe found outside the court, not above fifty yards either to the rightor to the left." Hampstead, thus limited to a
course not exceeding ahundred yards in one of the most crowded thoroughfares of the City,began the execution of his difficult task.

  "Mr. Fay," he said, "are you aware of what has passed between me andyour daughter Marion?"

  "Hardly, my lord."

  "Has she told you nothing of it?"

  "Yea, my lord; she has in truth told me much. She has told me nodoubt all that it behoves a father to hear from a daughter in suchcircumstances. I live on such terms with my Marion that there are notmany secrets kept by either of us from the other."

  "Then you do know?"

  "I know that your lordship tendered to her your hand,--honestly,nobly, and truly, as I take it."

  "With perfect honesty and perfect truth most certainly."

  "And I know also that she declined the honour thus offered her."

  "She did."

  "Is this you, Zachary? How are you this morning?" This came from astout, short, red-faced man, who stopped them, standing in the middleof the pavement.

  "Well, I thank thee, Mr. Gruby. At this moment I am particularlyengaged. That is Jonathan Gruby," said the Quaker to his companion assoon as the stout man had walked on; "one of the busiest men in theCity. You have heard probably of Gruby and Inderwald."

  Hampstead had never heard of Gruby and Inderwald, and wished that thestout man had been minding his business at that moment. "But as toMiss Fay," he said, endeavouring to continue to tell his love-story.

  "Yes, as to Marion. I hardly do know what passed between you two, nothaving heard the reasons she gave thee."

  "No reasons at all;--nothing worth speaking of between persons whoknow anything of the world."

  "Did she tell thee that she did not love thee, my lord?--because thatto my thinking would be reason enough."

  "Nothing of the kind. I don't mean to boast, but I don't see why sheshould not like me well enough."

  "Nor in sooth do I either."

  "What, Zachary; you walking about at this busy time of the day?"

  "I am walking about, Sir Thomas. It is not customary with me, butI am walking about." Then he turned on his heel, moved almost todudgeon by the interruption, and walked the other way. "Sir ThomasBolster, my lord; a very busy sort of gentleman, but one who has donewell in the world.--Nor in sooth do I either; but this is a matter inwhich a young maiden must decide for herself. I shall not bid her notto love thee, but I cannot bid her to do so."

  "It isn't that, Mr. Fay. Of course I have no right to pretend to anyregard from her. But as to that there has been no question."

  "What did she say to thee?"

  "Some trash about rank."

  "Nay, my lord, it is not trash. I cannot hear thee speak so of thineown order without contradiction."

  "Am I to be like a king in the old days, who was forced to marry anyugly old princess that might be found for him, even though she wereodious to him? I will have nothing to do with rank on such terms.I claim the right to please myself, as do other men, and I come toyou as father to the young lady to ask from you your assistancein winning her to be my wife." At this moment up came Tribbledalerunning from the office.

  "There is Cooke there," said Tribbledale, with much emphasis in hisvoice, as though Cooke's was a very serious affair; "from Pollock andAusten's."

  "Is not Mr. Pogson within?"

  "He went out just after you. Cooke says that it's most important thathe should see some one immediately."

  "Tell him that he must wait yet five minutes longer," said ZacharyFay, frowning. Tribbledale, awestruck as he bethought himselfhow great were the affairs of Pollock and Austen, retreated backhurriedly to the court.

  "You know what I mean, Mr. Fay," continued Lord Hampstead.

  "I know well what thou meanest, my lord. I think I know what thoumeanest. Thou meanest to offer to my girl not only high rank andgreat wealth, but, which should be of infinitely more value to her,the heart and the hand of an honest man. I believe thee to be anhonest man, my lord."

  "In this matter, Mr. Fay, at any rate, I am."

  "In all matters as I believe; and how should I, being such a one as Iam, not be willing to give my girl to such a suitor as thee? And whatis it now?" he shrieked in his anger, as the little boy off the highstool came rushing to him.

  "Mr. Pogson has just come back, Mr. Fay, and he says that he can'tfind those letters from Pollock and Austen anywhere about the place.He wants them immediately, because he can't tell the prices namedwithout seeing them."

  "Lord Hampstead," said the Quaker, almost white with rage, "I mustpray thee to excuse me for five minutes." Hampstead promised that hewould confine himself to the same uninteresting plot of ground tillthe Quaker should return to him, and then reflected that there werecertain reasons upon which he had not calculated against falling inlove with the daughter of a City clerk.

  "We will go a little further afield," said the Quaker, when hereturned, "so that we may not be troubled again by those imbeciles inthe court. It is little, however, that I have to say to thee further.Thou hast my leave."

  "I am glad of that."

  "And all my sympathies. But, my lord, I suppose I had better tell thetruth."

  "Oh, certainly."

  "My girl fears that her health may fail her."

  "Her health!"

  "It is that as I think. She has not said so to me openly; but I thinkit is that. Her mother died early,--and her brothers and her sisters.It is a sad tale, my lord."

  "But need that hinder her?"

  "I think not, my lord. But it must be for thee to judge. As far asI know she is as fit to become a man's wife as are other girls. Herhealth has not failed her. She is not robust, but she does her workin looking after my household, such as it is, well and punctually.I think that her mind is pervaded with vain terrors. Now I have toldthee all, placing full confidence in thee as in an honest man. Thereis my house. Thou art welcome to go there if it seemeth thee good,and to deal with Marion in this matter as thy love and thy judgmentmay direct thee." Having said this he returned hurriedly to King'sCourt as though he feared that Tribbledale or the boy might againfind him out.

  So far Hampstead had succeeded; but he was much troubled in his mindby what he had heard as to Marion's health. Not that it occurredto him for a moment that such a marriage as he contemplated wouldbe undesirable because his Marion might become ill. He was toothoroughly in love to entertain such an idea. Nor is it one whichcan find ready entrance into the mind of a young man who sees a girlblooming with the freshness and beauty of youth. It would have seemedto him, had he thought about it at all, that Marion's health wasperfect. But he was afraid of her obstinacy, and he felt that thisobjection might be more binding on her than that which she putforward in reference to his rank. He went back, therefore, to HendonHall only half-satisfied,--sometimes elated, but sometimes depressed.He would, however, go and discuss the matter with her at full lengthas soon as he should have returned from Shropshire. He would remainthere only for one day,--though it might be necessary for him torepeat the journey almost immediately,--so that no time might be lostin using his eloquence upon Marion. After what had passed between himand the Quaker, he thought that he was almost justified in assuringhimself that the girl did in truth love him.

  "Give my father my kindest love," said Lady Frances, as her brotherwas about to start for the train.

  "Of course I will."

  "And tell him that I will start at a moment's notice whenever he maywish to see me."

  "In such case of course I should take you."

  "And be courteous to her if you can."

  "I doubt whether she will allow me. If she abuses you or insults me Imust answer her."

  "I wouldn't."

  "You would be more ready than I am. One cannot but answer her becauseshe expects to hear something said in return. I shall keep out ofher way as much as possible. I shall have my breakfast brought tome in my own room to-morrow, and shall then remain with my fatheras much as possible. If I leave him at all I shall get a walk.There will only be the dinner
. As to one thing I have quite madeup my mind. Nothing shall drive me into having any words with Mr.Greenwood;--unless, indeed, my father were to ask me to speak tohim."