George Eliot's Daniel Deronda: Abridged

by Emma Laybourn

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gwendolen, we have seen, passed her time abroad in the new excitement of gambling, and in imagining herself an empress of luck, having brought from her late experience an impression that in this confused world nothing mattered but to enjoy oneself. We have seen, too, that Grapnell & Co, being also bent on amusing themselves, no matter how, had brought about a painful change in her family circumstances; whence she had returned home – carrying with her a necklace which she had pawned and someone else had redeemed.

  While she was going back to England, Grandcourt was coming to find her at Leubronn; coming so entirely without hurry that he was induced to linger at Baden-Baden. Grandcourt’s passions were of the intermittent, flickering kind, never flaming out strongly. But a great deal of life goes on without strong passion, and a man may be obstinate at the same low rate, and even show sudden impulses which have an air of daemonic strength because they seem inexplicable.

  Grandcourt had not been altogether displeased by Gwendolen’s running away. The act had some piquancy for him. He liked to think that it was due to resentment of his cool and careless behaviour in Cardell Chase. To have brought her so near a tender admission, and then to have walked away, was enough to provoke a girl of spirit; and to be worth his mastering it was proper that she should have some spirit. Doubtless she meant him to follow her, and it was what he meant too.

  But for a whole week he took no measures toward starting, and did not even inquire where Miss Harleth was gone. Mr. Lush felt a triumph mingled with distrust; for Grandcourt said no word to him about her, and looked as neutral as an alligator; there was no telling what might turn up in the slowly-churning chances of his mind.

  The guests at Diplow were curious. How was it that nothing more was heard of Miss Harleth? Was it credible that she had refused Mr. Grandcourt? Lady Flora Hollis, a lively middle-aged woman, learnt that Miss Harleth was gone to Leubronn with some old friends, and mentioned this to Mr. Grandcourt. The next day Grandcourt ordered Lush to break up the party at Diplow by the end of another week, as he meant to go yachting to the Baltic or somewhere.

  Lush needed no clearer announcement that Grandcourt was going to Leubronn; but he might go in the manner of a creeping billiard-ball, and stick on the way. Mr. Lush intended to make himself indispensable in order to go too, and he succeeded; Gwendolen’s repulsion for him being a fact that merely amused his patron, and made him none the less willing to have Lush always at hand.

  This was how it happened that Grandcourt arrived at the Czarina Hotel on the fifth day after Gwendolen had left Leubronn, and found there his uncle, Sir Hugo Mallinger, with his family, including Deronda. The meeting was not necessarily a pleasure to either. Sir Hugo was an easy-tempered, tolerant man, but Grandcourt was not a nephew after his own heart; and as the presumptive heir to the Mallinger estates he was the embodiment of Sir Hugo’s chief grievance – the lack of a son. For Diplow would not go to his wife and daughters after his death.

  This grievance had naturally grown as the years advanced, and Lady Mallinger, after having had three daughters in quick succession, was now over forty. Sir Hugo, almost twenty years older, had begun to despair of a son. Therefore Grandcourt’s presence was unwelcome; but Sir Hugo wanted the relation between them to be kept as friendly as possible. He had a plan to secure Diplow as a future residence for Lady Mallinger and her daughters, and keep this bit of the family inheritance for his own offspring. He hoped that Grandcourt might consent to take a good sum of money in exchange for his interest in Diplow and its land; and this aim made him careful to avoid any quarrel with Grandcourt. They did not hate each other more than was compatible with perfect politeness.

  Grandcourt, on his side, thought his uncle a superfluous bore. But Lush had made him aware of the baronet’s plans concerning Diplow, and he was gratified to have the possibility of the money in his mind: even if he did not choose to accept it, his sense of power would be flattered by his being able to refuse.

  This was one reason why he had asked for a year’s tenancy of Diplow, which had rather annoyed Sir Hugo, because the excellent hunting might make Grandcourt decide not to part with it. Also, Lush had hinted to Sir Hugo that Grandcourt would woo and win Miss Arrowpoint, which would free him from the need for ready money. So the baronet felt much curiosity to know how things had been going on at Diplow, was bent on being civil to his nephew, and looked forward to some private chat with Lush.

  Between Deronda and Grandcourt there was a peculiar relation, due to circumstances which have yet to be made known. But no one showed any sign of annoyance on the first meeting. The quartet of gentlemen sauntered through the rooms, Sir Hugo saying–

  “Did you play much at Baden, Grandcourt?”

  “No; I looked on and betted a little.”

  “Had you luck?”

  “What did I win, Lush?”

  “You brought away about two hundred,” said Lush.

  “You are not here for the play, then?” said Sir Hugo.

  “No; I don’t care about play now. It’s a confounded strain,” said Grandcourt, whose diamond ring and demeanour were being a good deal stared at by foreigners interested in a new milord.

  “I agree with you, my dear fellow,” said Sir Hugo; “I never cared for play. It knits the brain up into meshes. I never stay here more than ten minutes. But where’s your gambling beauty, Deronda? Have you seen her lately?”

  “She’s gone,” said Deronda, curtly.

  “An uncommonly fine girl, a perfect Diana,” said Sir Hugo, turning to Grandcourt again. “I saw her winning, as coolly as if she had foreseen it. Deronda happened to see her losing like wildfire, and she bore it with immense pluck. I suppose she was cleaned out, or was wise enough to stop in time. How do you know she’s gone?”

  “Oh, by the Visitor-list,” said Deronda, with a shrug. “Vandernoodt told me her name was Harleth, and she was with the Baron and Baroness von Langen.”

  Lush had already looked at the list, and learnt that Gwendolen had gone, but he had no intention of telling Grandcourt before he asked; and he had not asked.

  But now Grandcourt had heard what was rather piquant. After a moment’s pause he said to Deronda–

  “Do you know the Langens?”

  “I have talked with them a little since Miss Harleth left.”

  “Where is she gone – do you know?”

  “She is gone home,” said Deronda, coldly. But then, from a fresh impulse, he added, “It is possible you know her. Her home is not far from Diplow, at Offendene.”

  Deronda, looking straight at Grandcourt, might have been a subject for those old painters who liked contrasts of temperament. His richly-tinted face had a calm intensity that was rather startling, and often made him seem to have spoken, so that servants asked him automatically, “What did you say, sir?” when he had been quite silent. Grandcourt felt an irritation, which he did not show except by a slight movement of the eyelids. But he answered, with his usual drawl, “Yes, I know her,” and paused to look at the gambling.

  “What of her, eh?” asked Sir Hugo of Lush, as the other three men moved out of the salon.

  “He has been on the brink of marrying her,” said Lush. “But I hope it’s off now. She’s a niece of the clergyman at Pennicote. Her mother is a widow with a brood of daughters. This girl will have nothing, and is as dangerous as gunpowder. It would be a foolish marriage. But she has taken a freak against him, for she ran off here without notice. The fact is, he’s here after her; although he was in no great hurry, and they are not likely to get together again. But he has lost his chance with the heiress.”

  When Lush and Grandcourt had departed, Sir Hugo began to Deronda–

  “Rather a pretty story. That girl has something in her. She must be worth running after, whether the marriage comes off or not.”

  “I should hope a marriage like that would not come off,” said Deronda, in a tone of disgust.

  “What! are you inclined to run after her?” said Sir Hugo.


  “On the contrary,” said Deronda, “I should rather be inclined to run away from her.”

  “Why, you would easily cut out Grandcourt. A girl with her spirit would think you the finer match of the two. You won’t run after the pretty gambler, then?”

  “Decidedly not.”

  This answer was perfectly truthful; nevertheless it had passed through Deronda’s mind that under other circumstances he should have given way to his interest in this girl, and have tried to know more of her. But his history had given him a stronger bias in another direction. He felt himself in no sense free.