Marion Fay: A Novel

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XI.

  "OF COURSE THERE WAS A BITTERNESS."

  It was not surprising that Lord Kingsbury should have been unhappywhen Roden was shown up into his room, as Mr. Greenwood had beenwith him. Mr. Greenwood had called on the previous day, and hadbeen refused admittance. He had then sent in an appeal, asking sopiteously for an interview that the Marquis had been unable torepudiate it. Mr. Greenwood knew enough of letter-writing to be ableto be effective on such an occasion. He had, he said, lived under thesame roof with the Marquis for a quarter of a century. Though thepositions of the two men in the world were so different they hadlived together as friends. The Marquis throughout that long periodhad frequently condescended to ask the advice of his chaplain, andnot unfrequently to follow it. After all this could he refuse togrant the favour of a last interview? He had found himself unable torefuse the favour. The interview had taken place, and consequentlythe Marquis had been very unhappy when George Roden was shown up intohis room.

  The Rector of Appleslocombe was dead. The interview was commenced bya communication to that effect from Mr. Greenwood. The Marquis ofcourse knew the fact,--had indeed already given the living away,--hadnot delayed a minute in giving it away because of some fear whichstill pressed upon him in reference to Mr. Greenwood. Nor did Mr.Greenwood expect to get the living,--or perhaps desire it. But hewished to have a grievance, and to be in possession of a subject onwhich he could begin to make his complaint. "You must have known, Mr.Greenwood, that I never intended it for you," said the Marquis. Mr.Greenwood, seated on the edge of his chair and rubbing his two handstogether, declared that he had entertained hopes in that direction."I don't know why you should, then. I never told you so. I neverthought of it for a moment. I always meant to put a young man intoit;--comparatively young." Mr. Greenwood shook his head and stillrubbed his hands. "I don't know that I can do anything more for you."

  "It isn't much that you have done, certainly, Lord Kingsbury."

  "I have done as much as I intend to do," said the Marquis, rousinghimself angrily. "I have explained all that by Mr. Roberts."

  "Two hundred a year after a quarter of a century!" Mr. Greenwood hadin truth been put into possession of three hundred a year; but asone hundred of this came from Lord Hampstead it was not necessary tomention the little addition.

  "It is very wrong,--your pressing your way in here and talking to meabout it at all."

  "After having expected the living for so many years!"

  "You had no right to expect it. I didn't promise it. I never thoughtof it for a moment. When you asked me I told you that it was outof the question. I never heard of such impertinence in all my life.I must ask you to go away and leave me, Mr. Greenwood." But Mr.Greenwood was not disposed to go away just yet. He had come there fora purpose, and he intended to go on with it. He was clearly resolvednot to be frightened by the Marquis. He got up from his chair andstood looking at the Marquis, still rubbing his hands, till the sickman was almost frightened by the persistency of his silence. "What isit, Mr. Greenwood, that makes you stand thus? Do you not hear me tellyou that I have got nothing more to say to you?"

  "Yes, my lord; I hear what you say."

  "Then why don't you go away? I won't have you stand there staringlike that." He still shook his head. "Why do you stand there andshake your head?"

  "It must be told, my lord."

  "What must be told?"

  "The Marchioness!"

  "What do you mean, sir? What have you got to say?"

  "Would you wish to send for her ladyship?"

  "No; I wouldn't. I won't send for her ladyship at all. What has herladyship got to do with it?"

  "She promised."

  "Promised what?"

  "Promised the living! She undertook that I should have Appleslocombethe moment it became vacant."

  "I don't believe a word of it."

  "She did. I don't think that her ladyship will deny it." It mighthave been so, certainly; and had there been no chance of truth inthe statement he would hardly have been so ready to send for LadyKingsbury. But had she done so the promise would amount to nothing.Though he was sick and wretched and weak, and in some matters afraidof his wife, there had been no moment of his life in which he wouldhave given way to her on such a subject as this. "She promised itme,--for a purpose."

  "A purpose!"

  "For a purpose, my lord."

  "What purpose?" Mr. Greenwood went on staring and shaking his headand rubbing his hands, till the Marquis, awestruck and almostfrightened, put out his hand towards the bell. But he thought of itagain. He remembered himself that he had nothing to fear. If the manhad anything to say about the Marchioness it might perhaps be bettersaid without the presence of servants. "If you mean to say anything,say it. If not,--go. If you do neither one nor the other veryquickly, I shall have you turned out of the house."

  "Turned out of the house?"

  "Certainly. If you have any threat to make, you had better make it inwriting. You can write to my lawyers, or to me, or to Lord Hampstead,or to Mr. Roberts."

  "It isn't a threat. It is only a statement. She promised it me,--fora purpose."

  "I don't know what you mean by a purpose, Mr. Greenwood. I don'tbelieve Lady Kingsbury made any such promise; but if she did itwasn't hers to promise. I don't believe it; but had she promised Ishould not be bound by it."

  "Not if you have not given it away?"

  "I have given it away, Mr. Greenwood."

  "Then I must suggest--"

  "Suggest what!"

  "Compensation, my lord. It will only be fair. You ask her ladyship.Her ladyship cannot intend that I should be turned out of yourlordship's house with only two hundred a year, after what has passedbetween me and her ladyship."

  "What passed?" said the Marquis, absolutely rousing himself so as tostand erect before the other man.

  "I had rather, my lord, you should hear it from her ladyship."

  "What passed?"

  "There was all that about Lady Frances."

  "What about Lady Frances?"

  "Of course I was employed to do all that I could to prevent themarriage. You employed me yourself, my lord. It was you sent me downto see the young man, and explain to him how impertinent he was. Itisn't my fault, Lord Kingsbury, if things have got themselves changedsince then."

  "You think you ought to make a demand upon me because as my Chaplainyou were asked to see a gentleman who called here on a delicatematter?"

  "It isn't that I am thinking about. If it had been only that I shouldhave said nothing. You asked me what it was about, and I was obligedto remind you of one thing. What took place between me and herladyship was, of course, much more particular; but it all began withyour lordship. If you hadn't commissioned me I don't suppose herladyship would ever have spoken to me about Lady Frances."

  "What is it all? Sit down;--won't you?--and tell it all like a manif you have got anything to tell." The Marquis, fatigued with hisexertion, was forced to go back to his chair. Mr. Greenwood also satdown,--but whether or no like a man may be doubted. "Remember this,Mr. Greenwood, it does not become a gentleman to repeat what has beensaid to him in confidence,--especially not to repeat it to him or tothem from whom it was intended to be kept secret. And it does notbecome a Christian to endeavour to make ill-blood between a husbandand his wife. Now, if you have got anything to say, say it." Mr.Greenwood shook his head. "If you have got nothing to say, go away.I tell you fairly that I don't want to have you here. You have begunsomething like a threat, and if you choose to go on with it, you may.I am not afraid to hear you, but you must say it or go."

  Mr. Greenwood again shook his head. "I suppose you won't deny thather ladyship honoured me with a very close confidence."

  "I don't know anything about it."

  "Your lordship didn't know that her ladyship down at Trafford usedto be talking to me pretty freely about Lord Hampstead and LadyFrances?"

  "If you have got anything to say, say it," screamed the Marquis.

  "
Of course his lordship and her ladyship are not her ladyship's ownchildren."

  "What has that got to do with it?"

  "Of course there was a bitterness."

  "What is that to you? I will hear nothing from you about LadyKingsbury, unless you have to tell me of some claim to be made uponher. If there has been money promised you, and she acknowledges it,it shall be paid. Has there been any such promise?"

  Mr. Greenwood found it very difficult,--nay, quite impossible,--tosay in accurate language that which he was desirous of explainingby dark hints. There had, he thought, been something of a compactbetween himself and the Marchioness. The Marchioness had desiredsomething which she ought not to have desired, and had called uponthe Chaplain for more than his sympathy. The Chaplain had beenwilling to give her more than his sympathy,--had at one time beenalmost willing to give her very much more. He might possibly, as henow felt, have misinterpreted her wishes. But he had certainly heardfrom her language so strong, in reference to her husband's children,that he had been justified in considering that it was intended tobe secret. As a consequence of this he had been compelled to choosebetween the Marquis and the Marchioness. By becoming the confidentialfriend of the one he had necessarily become the enemy of the other.Then, as a further consequence, he was turned out of the house,--and,as he declared to himself, utterly ruined. Now in this there hadcertainly been much hardship, and who was to compensate him if notthe Marquis?

  There certainly had been some talk about Appleslocombe during thosemoments of hot passion in which Lady Kingsbury had allowed herself tosay such evil things of Lady Frances and Lord Hampstead. Whether anyabsolute promise had been given she would probably not now remember.There certainly had been a moment in which she had thought thather husband's life might possibly pass away before that of the oldrector; and reference may have been made to the fact that had her owndarling been the heir, the gift of the living would then have falleninto her own hands. Mr. Greenwood had probably thought more of somepossible compensation for the living than of the living itself. Hehad no doubt endeavoured to frighten her ladyship into thinking thatsome mysterious debt was due to him, if not for services actuallyrendered, at any rate for extraordinary confidences. But before hehad forced upon her the acknowledgment of the debt, he was turned outof the house! Now this he felt to be hard.

  What were two hundred a-year as a pension for a gentleman aftersuch a life-long service? Was it to be endured that he should havelistened for so many years to all the abominable politics of theMarquis, and to the anger and disappointment of the Marchioness, thathe should have been so closely connected, and for so many years,with luxury, wealth, and rank, and then arrive at so poor an eveningof his day? As he thought of this he felt the more ashamed of hismisfortune, because he believed himself to be in all respects astronger man than the Marquis. He had flattered himself that he couldlead the Marquis, and had thought that he had been fairly successfulin doing so. His life had been idle, luxurious, and full of comfort.The Marquis had allowed him to do pretty well what he pleased untilin an evil hour he had taken the side of the Marchioness in a familyquarrel. Then the Marquis, though weak in health,--almost to hisdeath,--had suddenly become strong in purpose, and had turned himabruptly out of the house with a miserable stipend hardly fit formore than a butler! Could it be that he should put up with suchusage, and allow the Marquis to escape unscathed out of his hand?

  In this condition of mind, he had determined that he owed it tohimself to do or say something that should frighten his lordship intoa more generous final arrangement. There had been, he said to himselfagain and again, such a confidence with a lady of so high a rank,that the owner of it ought not to be allowed to languish upon two oreven upon three hundred a-year. If the whole thing could really beexplained to the Marquis, the Marquis would probably see it himself.And to all this was to be added the fact that no harm had been done.The Marchioness owed him very much for having wished to assist her ingetting rid of an heir that was disagreeable to her. The Marquis owedhim more for not having done it. And they both owed him very muchin that he had never said a word of it all to anybody else. He hadthought that he might be clever enough to make the Marquis understandsomething of this without actually explaining it. That somemysterious promise had been made, and that, as the promise could notbe kept, some compensation should be awarded,--this was what he haddesired to bring home to the mind of the Marquis. He had betrayed noconfidence. He intended to betray none. He was very anxious that theMarquis should be aware, that as he, Mr. Greenwood, was a gentleman,all confidences would be safe in his hands; but then the Marquisought to do his part of the business, and not turn his confidentialChaplain out of the house after a quarter of a century with abeggarly annuity of two hundred a-year!

  But the Marquis seemed to have acquired unusual strength ofcharacter; and Mr. Greenwood found that words were very difficultto be found. He had declared that there had been "a bitterness,"and beyond that he could not go. It was impossible to hint that herladyship had wished to have Lord Hampstead--removed. The horridthoughts of a few days had become so vague to himself that he doubtedwhether there had been any real intention as to the young lord'sremoval even in his own mind. There was nothing more that he couldsay than this,--that during the period of this close intimacy herladyship had promised to him the living of Appleslocombe, and that,as that promise could not be kept, some compensation should be madeto him. "Was any sum of money named?" asked the Marquis.

  "Nothing of the kind. Her ladyship thought that I ought to have theliving."

  "You can't have it; and there's an end of it."

  "And you think that nothing should be done for me?"

  "I think that nothing should be done for you more than has beendone."

  "Very well. I am not going to tell secrets that have been intrustedto me as a gentleman, even though I am so badly used by those whohave confided them to me. Her ladyship is safe with me. Because Isympathized with her ladyship your lordship turned me out of thehouse."

  "No; I didn't."

  "Should I have been treated like this had I not taken her ladyship'spart? I am too noble to betray a secret, or, no doubt, I could compelyour lordship to behave to me in a very different manner. Yes, mylord, I am quite ready to go now. I have made my appeal, and I havemade it in vain. I have no wish to call upon her ladyship. As agentleman I am bound to give her ladyship no unnecessary trouble."

  While this last speech was going on a servant had come into the room,and had told the Marquis that the "Duca di Crinola" was desirous ofseeing him. The servants in the establishment were of course anxiousto recognize Lady Frances' lover as an Italian Duke. The Marquiswould probably have made some excuse for not receiving the lover atthis moment, had he not felt that he might in this way best insurethe immediate retreat of Mr. Greenwood. Mr. Greenwood went, and Rodenwas summoned to Lord Kingsbury's presence; but the meeting took placeunder circumstances which naturally made the Marquis incapable ofentering at the moment with much spirit on the great "Duca" question.