Marion Fay: A Novel

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER IX.

  IN PARK LANE.

  On Monday, the 20th of April, Lady Frances returned to her father'sroof. The winter had certainly not been a happy time for her. Earlyin the autumn she had been taken off to the German castle in greatdisgrace because of her plebeian lover, and had, ever since, beenliving under so dark a cloud, as to have been considered unfit forthe companionship of those little darlings, the young lords, herhalf-brothers. She had had her way no doubt, never having for amoment wavered in her constancy to the Post Office clerk; but shehad been assured incessantly by all her friends that her marriagewith the man was impossible, and had no doubt suffered under theconviction that her friends were hostile to her. Now she might behappy. Now she was to be taken back to her father's house. Now shewas to keep her lover, and not be held to have been disgraced at all.No doubt in this there was great triumph.

  But her triumph had been due altogether to an accident;--to what herfather graciously called a romance, while her stepmother describedit less civilly as a "marvellous coincidence, for which she ought tothank her stars on her bended knees." The accident,--or coincidenceor romance as it might be called,--was, of course, her lover's title.Of this she was by no means proud, and would not at all thank herstars for it on her bended knees. Though she was happy in her lover'spresence, her happiness was clouded by the feeling that she wasimposing upon her father. She had been allowed to ask her lover todine at Kingsbury House because her lover was supposed to be theDuca di Crinola. But the invitation had been sent under an envelopeaddressed to George Roden, Esq., General Post Office. No one hadyet ventured to inscribe the Duke's name and title on the back of aletter. The Marchioness was assured by her sister that it would allcome right, and had, therefore, submitted to have the young man askedto come and eat his dinner under the same roof with her darlings.But she did not quite trust her sister, and felt that after all itmight become her imperative duty to gather her children togetherin her bosom, and fly with them from contact with the Post Officeclerk,--the Post Office clerk who would not become a Duke. TheMarquis himself was only anxious that everything should be made to beeasy. He had, while at Trafford, been so tormented by Mr. Greenwoodand his wife that he longed for nothing so much as a reconciliationwith his daughter. He was told on very good authority,--on theauthority of no less a person than the Secretary of State,--that thisyoung man was the Duca di Crinola. There had been a romance, a veryinteresting romance; but the fact remained. The Post Office clerk wasno longer George Roden, and would, he was assured, soon cease to bea Post Office clerk. The young man was in truth an Italian noblemanof the highest order, and as such was entitled to marry the daughterof an English nobleman. If it should turn out that he had beenmisinformed, that would not be his fault.

  So it was when George Roden came to dine at Kingsbury House. Hehimself at this moment was not altogether happy. The last words whichLady Persiflage had said to him at Castle Hautboy had disturbed him."Would it be honest on your part," Lady Persiflage had asked him, "toask her to abandon the rank which she will be entitled to expect fromyou?" He had not put the matter to himself in that light before. LadyFrances was entitled to as much consideration in the matter as washimself. The rank would be as much hers as his. And yet he couldn'tdo it. Not even for her sake could he walk into the Post Office andcall himself the Duca di Crinola. Not even for her sake could heconsent to live an idle, useless life as an Italian nobleman. Lovewas very strong with him, but with it there was a sense of duty andmanliness which would make it impossible for him to submit himself tosuch thraldom. In doing it he would have to throw over all the strongconvictions of his life. And yet he was about to sit as a guest atLord Kingsbury's table, because Lord Kingsbury would believe him tobe an Italian nobleman. He was not, therefore, altogether happy whenhe knocked at the Marquis's door.

  Hampstead had refused to join the party. He was not at present in acondition to join any social gathering. But, omitting him, a familyparty had been collected. Lord and Lady Persiflage were there, withLady Amaldina and her betrothed. The Persiflages had taken the matterup very strongly, so that they may have been said to have becomeGeorge Roden's special patrons or protectors. Lord Persiflage, whowas seldom much in earnest about anything, had determined that theDuca di Crinola should be recognized, and was supposed already tohave spoken a word on the subject in a very high quarter indeed.Vivian, the Private Secretary, was there. The poor Marquis himselfwas considered unable to come down into the dining-room, but didreceive his proposed son-in-law up-stairs. They had not met since theunfortunate visit made by the Post Office clerk to Hendon Hall, whenno one had as yet dreamed of his iniquity; nor had the Marchionessseen him since the terrible sound of that feminine Christian name hadwounded her ears. The other persons assembled had in a measure becomeintimate with him. Lord Llwddythlw had walked round Castle Hautboyand discussed with him the statistics of telegraphy. Lady Amaldinahad been confidential with him as to her own wedding. Both Lordand Lady Persiflage had given him in a very friendly manner theirideas as to his name and position. Vivian and he had become intimatepersonal friends. They could, all of them, accept him with openarms when he was shown into the drawing-room, except Lady Kingsburyherself. "No; I am not very well just at present," said the Marquisfrom his recumbent position as he languidly stretched out his hand."You won't see me down at dinner. God knows whether anybody will eversee me down at dinner again."

  "Not see you down at dinner!" said Lord Persiflage. "In another monthyou will be talking treason in Pall Mall as you have done all yourlife."

  "I wish you had made Hampstead come with you, Mr.--" But the Marquisstopped himself, having been instructed that he was not on anyaccount to call the young man Mr. Roden. "He was here this morning,but seemed to be in great trouble about something. He ought to comeand take his place at the bottom of the table, seeing how ill Iam;--but he won't."

  Lady Kingsbury waited until her husband had done his grumbling beforeshe attempted the disagreeable task which was before her. It was verydisagreeable. She was a bad hypocrite. There are women who have aspecial gift of hiding their dislikings from the objects of them,when occasion requires. They can smile and be soft, with bitterenmity in their hearts, to suit the circumstances of the moment.And as they do so, their faces will overcome their hearts, andtheir enmity will give way to their smiles. They will become almostfriendly because they look friendly. They will cease to hate becausehatred is no longer convenient. But the Marchioness was too rigidand too sincere for this. She could command neither her features norher feelings. It was evident from the moment the young man enteredthe room, that she would be unable to greet him even with commoncourtesy. She hated him, and she had told every one there that shehated him. "How do you do?" she said, just touching his hand as soonas he was released from her husband's couch. She, too, had beenspecially warned by her sister that she must not call the young manby any name. If she could have addressed him by his title, her mannermight perhaps have been less austere.

  "I am much obliged to you by allowing me to come here," said Roden,looking her full in the face, and making his little speech in sucha manner as to be audible to all the room. It was as though hehad declared aloud his intention of accepting this permission asconveying much more than a mere invitation to dinner. Her face becameharder and more austere than ever. Then finding that she had nothingmore to say to him she seated herself and held her peace.

  Only that Lady Persiflage was very unlike her sister, the momentwould have been awkward for them all. Poor Fanny, who was sittingwith her hand within her father's, could not find a word to say onthe occasion. Lord Persiflage, turning round upon his heel, made agrimace to his Private Secretary. Llwddythlw would willingly havesaid something pleasant on the occasion had he been sufficientlyready. As it was he stood still, with his hands in his trouserspockets and his eyes fixed on the wall opposite. According to hisidea the Marchioness was misbehaving herself. "Dear Aunt Clara,"said Lady Amaldina, trying to say something that might dissipate thehorror of the moment
, "have you heard that old Sir Gregory Tollbaris to marry Letitia Tarbarrel at last?" But it was Lady Persiflagewho really came to the rescue. "Of course we're all very glad to seeyou," she said. "You'll find that if you'll be nice to us, we'll allbe as nice as possible to you. Won't we, Lord Llwddythlw?"

  "As far as I am concerned," said the busy Member of Parliament, "Ishall be delighted to make the acquaintance of Mr. Roden." A slightfrown, a shade of regret, passed over the face of Lady Persiflageas she heard the name. A darker and bitterer cloud settled itselfon Lady Kingsbury's brow. Lord Kingsbury rolled himself uneasilyon his couch. Lady Amaldina slightly pinched her lover's arm. LordPersiflage was almost heard to whistle. Vivian tried to look as ifit didn't signify. "I am very much obliged to you for your courtesy,Lord Llwddythlw," said George Roden. To have called him by his namewas the greatest favour that could have been done to him at thatmoment. Then the door was opened and dinner announced.

  "Time and the hour run through the roughest day." In this way thatdinner at Kingsbury House did come to an end at last. There was aweight of ill-humour about Lady Kingsbury on this special occasionagainst which even Lady Persiflage found it impossible to prevail.Roden, whose courage rose to the occasion, did make a gallant effortto talk to Lady Frances, who sat next to him. But the circumstanceswere hard upon him. Everybody else in the room was closely connectedwith everybody else. Had he been graciously accepted by the mistressof the house, he could have fallen readily enough into the intimacieswhich would then have been opened to him. But as it was he was forcedto struggle against the stream, and so to struggle as to seem not tostruggle. At last, however, time and the hour had done its work, andthe ladies went up to the drawing-room.

  "Lord Llwddythlw called him Mr. Roden!" This was said by theMarchioness in a tone of bitter reproach as soon as the drawing-roomdoor was closed.

  "I was so sorry," said Lady Amaldina.

  "It does not signify in the least," said Lady Persiflage. "It cannotbe expected that a man should drop his old name and take a new oneall in a moment."

  "He will never drop his old name and take the new one," said LadyFrances.

  "There now," said the Marchioness. "What do you think of that,Geraldine?"

  "My dear Fanny," said Lady Persiflage, without a touch of ill-naturein her tone, "how can you tell what a young man will do?"

  "I don't think it right to deceive Mamma," said Fanny. "I know himwell enough to be quite sure that he will not take the title, as hehas no property to support it. He has talked it over with me againand again, and I agree with him altogether."

  "Upon my word, Fanny, I didn't think that you would be so foolish,"said her aunt. "This is a kind of thing in which a girl should notinterfere at all. It must be arranged between the young man's unclein Italy, and--and the proper authorities here. It must depend verymuch upon--." Here Lady Persiflage reduced her words to the verylowest whisper. "Your uncle has told me all about it, and of coursehe must know better than any one else. It's a kind of thing that mustbe settled for a man by,--by--by those who know how to settle it. Aman can't be this or that just as he pleases."

  "Of course not," said Lady Amaldina.

  "A man has to take the name, my dear, which he inherits. I could notcall myself Mrs. Jones any more than Mrs. Jones can call herselfLady Persiflage. If he is the Duca di Crinola he must be the Duca diCrinola."

  "But he won't be Duca di Crinola," said Lady Frances.

  "There now!" said the Marchioness.

  "If you will only let the matter be settled by those who understandit, and not talk about it just at present, it would be so muchbetter."

  "You heard what Lord Llwddythlw called him," said the Marchioness.

  "Llwddythlw always was an oaf," said Amaldina.

  "He meant to be gracious," said Fanny; "and I am much obliged tohim."

  "And as to what you were saying, Fanny, as to having nothing tosupport the title, a foreign title in that way is not like one hereat home. Here it must be supported."

  "He would never consent to be burdened with a great name without anymeans," said Fanny.

  "There are cases in which a great name will help a man to get means.Whatever he calls himself, I suppose he will have to live, andmaintain a wife."

  "He has his salary as a clerk in the Post Office," said Fanny veryboldly. Amaldina shook her head sadly. The Marchioness claspedher hands together and raised her eyes to the ceiling with a lookof supplication. Were not her darlings to be preserved from suchcontamination?

  "He can do better than that, my dear," exclaimed Lady Persiflage;"and, if you are to be his wife, I am sure that you will not stand inthe way of his promotion. His own Government and ours between themwill be able to do something for him as Duca di Crinola, whereasnothing could be done for George Roden."

  "The English Government is his Government," said Fanny indignantly.

  "One would almost suppose that you want to destroy all hisprospects," said Lady Persiflage, who was at last hardly able torestrain her anger.

  "I believe she does," said the Marchioness.

  In the mean time the conversation was carried on below stairs, ifwith less vigour, yet perhaps with more judgment. Lord Persiflagespoke of Roden's Italian uncle as a man possessing intellectual giftsand political importance of the highest order. Roden could not denythat the Italian Cabinet Minister was his uncle, and was thus drivento acknowledge the family, and almost to acknowledge the country."From what I hear," said Lord Persiflage, "I suppose you would notwish to reside permanently in Italy, as an Italian?"

  "Certainly not," said Roden.

  "There is no reason why you should. I can imagine that you shouldhave become too confirmed an Englishman to take kindly to Italianpublic life as a career. You could hardly do so except as a followerof your uncle, which perhaps would not suit you."

  "It would be impossible."

  "Just so. D'Ossi was saying to me this morning that he thought asmuch. But there is no reason why a career should not be open to youhere as well as there;--not political perhaps, but official."

  "It is the only career that at present is open to me."

  "There might be difficulty about Parliament certainly. My advice toyou is not to be in a hurry to decide upon anything for a month ortwo. You will find that things will shake down into their places."Not a word was said about the name or title. When the gentlemen wentup-stairs there had been no brilliancy of conversation, but neitherwere there any positive difficulties to be incurred. Not a wordfurther was said in reference to "George Roden" or to the "Duca diCrinola."