The Claverings

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XLVII.

  SHOWING HOW THINGS SETTLED THEMSELVES AT THE RECTORY.

  When Harry's letter, with the tidings of the fate of his cousins,reached Florence at Stratton, the whole family was, not unnaturally,thrown into great excitement. Being slow people, the elder Burtonshad hardly as yet realized the fact that Harry was again to beaccepted among the Burton Penates as a pure divinity. Mrs. Burton,for some weeks past, had grown to be almost sublime in her wrathagainst him. That a man should live and treat her daughter asFlorence was about to be treated! Had not her husband forbiddensuch a journey, as being useless in regard to the expenditure,she would have gone up to London that she might have told Harrywhat she thought of him. Then came the news that Harry was again adivinity,--an Apollo, whom the Burton Penates ought only to be tooproud to welcome to a seat among them!

  And now came this other news that this Apollo was to be an Apolloindeed! When the god first became a god again, there was still acloud upon the minds of the elder Burtons as to the means by whichthe divinity was to be sustained. A god in truth, but a god with sovery moderate an annual income;--unless indeed those old Burtons madeit up to an extent which seemed to them to be quite unnatural! Therewas joy among the Burtons, of course, but the joy was somewhat dimmedby these reflections as to the slight means of their Apollo. A loverwho was not an Apollo might wait; but, as they had learned already,there was danger in keeping such a god as this suspended on thetenter-hooks of expectation.

  But now there came the further news! This Apollo of theirs had reallya place of his own among the gods of Olympus. He was the eldest sonof a man of large fortune, and would be a baronet! He had alreadydeclared that he would marry at once;--that his father wished him todo so, and that an abundant income would be forthcoming. As to hiseagerness for an immediate marriage, no divinity in or out of theheavens could behave better. Old Mrs. Burton, as she went throughthe process of taking him again to her heart, remembered that thatvirtue had been his, even before the days of his backsliding hadcome. A warm-hearted, eager, affectionate divinity,--with only thisagainst him, that he wanted some careful looking after in these, hisunsettled days. "I really do think that he'll be as fond of his ownfireside as any other man, when he has once settled down," said Mrs.Burton.

  It will not, I hope, be taken as a blot on the character of thismother that she was much elated at the prospect of the good thingswhich were to fall to her daughter's lot. For herself she desirednothing. For her daughters she had coveted only good, substantial,painstaking husbands, who would fear God and mind their business.When Harry Clavering had come across her path and had demanded adaughter from her, after the manner of the other young men who hadlearned the secrets of their profession at Stratton, she had desirednothing more than that he and Florence should walk in the path whichhad been followed by her sisters and their husbands. But then hadcome that terrible fear; and now had come these golden prospects.That her daughter should be Lady Clavering, of Clavering Park! Shecould not but be elated at the thought of it. She would not live tosee it, but the consciousness that it would be so was pleasant to herin her old age. Florence had ever been regarded as the flower of theflock, and now she would be taken up into high places,--according toher deserts.

  First had come the letter from Harry, and then, after an intervalof a week, another letter from Mrs. Clavering, pressing her dearFlorence to go to the parsonage. "We think that at present we allought to be together," said Mrs. Clavering, "and therefore we wantyou to be with us." It was very flattering. "I suppose I ought to go,mamma?" said Florence. Mrs. Burton was of opinion that she certainlyought to go. "You should write to her ladyship at once," said Mrs.Burton, mindful of the change which had taken place. Florence,however, addressed her letter, as heretofore, to Mrs. Clavering,thinking that a mistake on that side would be better than a mistakeon the other. It was not for her to be over-mindful of the rank withwhich she was about to be connected. "You won't forget your oldmother now that you are going to be so grand?" said Mrs. Burton, asFlorence was leaving her.

  "You only say that to laugh at me," said Florence. "I expect nograndness, and I am sure you expect no forgetfulness."

  The solemnity consequent upon the first news of the accident had wornitself off, and Florence found the family at the parsonage happy andcomfortable. Mrs. Fielding was still there, and Mr. Fielding wasexpected again after the next Sunday. Fanny also was there, andFlorence could see during the first half-hour that she was veryradiant. Mr. Saul, however, was not there, and it may as well be saidat once that Mr. Saul as yet knew nothing of his coming fortune.Florence was received with open arms by them all, and by Harry witharms which were almost too open. "I suppose it may be in about threeweeks from now?" he said at the first moment in which he could haveher to himself.

  "Oh, Harry,--no," said Florence.

  "No;--why no? That's what my mother proposes."

  "In three weeks!--She could not have said that. Nobody has begun tothink of such a thing yet at Stratton."

  "They are so very slow at Stratton!"

  "And you are so very fast at Clavering! But, Harry, we don't knowwhere we are going to live."

  "We should go abroad at first, I suppose."

  "And what then? That would only be for a month or so."

  "Only for a month? I mean for all the winter,--and the spring. Whynot? One can see nothing in a month. If we are back for the shootingnext year that would do,--and then of course we should come here. Ishould say next winter,--that is the winter after the next,--we mightas well stay with them at the big house, and then we could look aboutus, you know. I should like a place near to this, because of thehunting!"

  Florence, when she heard all this, became aware that in talkingabout a month she had forgotten herself. She had been accustomed toholidays of a month's duration,--and to honeymoon trips fitted tosuch vacations. A month was the longest holiday ever heard of in thechambers in the Adelphi,--or at the house in Onslow Crescent. She hadforgotten herself. It was not to be the lot of her husband to earnhis bread, and fit himself to such periods as business might require.Then Harry went on describing the tour which he had arranged;--whichas he said he only suggested. But it was quite apparent that inthis matter he intended to be paramount. Florence indeed made noobjection. To spend a fortnight in Paris;--to hurry over the Alpsbefore the cold weather came; to spend a month in Florence, and thengo on to Rome;--it would all be very nice. But she declared that itwould suit the next year better than this.

  "Suit ten thousand fiddlesticks," said Harry.

  "But it is October now."

  "And therefore there is no time to lose."

  "I haven't a dress in the world but the one I have on, and a fewothers like it. Oh, Harry, how can you talk in that way?"

  "Well, say four weeks then from now. That will make it the seventh ofNovember, and we'll only stay a day or two in Paris. We can do Parisnext year,--in May. If you'll agree to that, I'll agree."

  But Florence's breath was taken away from her, and she could agree tonothing. She did agree to nothing till she had been talked into doingso by Mrs. Clavering.

  "My dear," said her future mother-in-law, "what you say isundoubtedly true. There is no absolute necessity for hurrying. It isnot an affair of life and death. But you and Harry have been engagedquite long enough now, and I really don't see why you should put itoff. If you do as he asks you, you will just have time to makeyourselves comfortable before the cold weather begins."

  "But mamma will be so surprised."

  "I'm sure she will wish it, my dear. You see Harry is a young man ofthat sort,--so impetuous I mean, you know, and so eager,--and so--youknow what I mean,--that the sooner he is married the better. Youcan't but take it as a compliment, Florence, that he is so eager."

  "Of course I do."

  "And you should reward him. Believe me it will be best that it shouldnot be delayed." Whether or no Mrs. Clavering had present in herimagination the possibility of any further danger that might resultfrom Lady Ongar, I will not
say, but if so, she altogether failed incommunicating her idea to Florence.

  "Then I must go home at once," said Florence, driven almost to bewailthe terrors of her position.

  "You can write home at once and tell your mother. You can tell herall that I say, and I am sure she will agree with me. If you wish it,I will write a line to Mrs. Burton myself." Florence said that shewould wish it. "And we can begin, you know, to get your things readyhere. People don't take so long about all that now-a-days as theyused to do." When Mrs. Clavering had turned against her, Florenceknew that she had no hope, and surrendered, subject to the approvalof the higher authorities at Stratton. The higher authorities atStratton approved also, of course, and Florence found herself fixedto a day with a suddenness that bewildered her. Immediately,--almostas soon as the consent had been extorted from her,--she began to besurrounded with incipient preparation for the event, as to which,about three weeks since, she had made up her mind that it would nevercome to pass.

  On the second day of her arrival, in the privacy of her bedroom,Fanny communicated to her the decision of her family in regard toMr. Saul. But she told the story at first as though this decisionreferred to the living only,--as though the rectory were to beconferred on Mr. Saul without any burden attached to it. "He hasbeen here so long, dear," said Fanny, "and understands the people sowell."

  "I am so delighted," said Florence.

  "I am sure it is the best thing papa could do;--that is if he quitemakes up his mind to give up the parish himself."

  This troubled Florence, who did not know that a baronet could hold aliving.

  "I thought he must give up being a clergyman now that Sir Hugh isdead?"

  "O dear, no." And then Fanny, who was great on ecclesiasticalsubjects, explained it all. "Even though he were to be a peer,he could hold a living if he pleased. A great many baronets areclergymen, and some of them do hold preferments. As to papa, thedoubt has been with him whether he would wish to give up the work.But he will preach sometimes, you know; though of course he will notbe able to do that unless Mr. Saul lets him. No one but the rectorhas a right to his own pulpit except the bishop; and he can preachthree times a year if he likes it."

  "And suppose the bishop wanted to preach four times?"

  "He couldn't do it; at least, I believe not. But you see he neverwants to preach at all,--not in such a place as this,--so that doesnot signify."

  "And will Mr. Saul come and live here, in this house?"

  "Some day I suppose he will," said Fanny, blushing.

  "And you, dear?"

  "I don't know how that may be."

  "Come, Fanny."

  "Indeed I don't, Florence, or I would tell you. Of course Mr. Saulhas asked me. I never had any secret with you about that; have I?"

  "No; you were very good."

  "Then he asked me again; twice again. And then there came,--oh, sucha quarrel between him and papa. It was so terrible. Do you know, Ibelieve they wouldn't speak in the vestry! Not but what each of themhas the highest possible opinion of the other. But of course Mr. Saulcouldn't marry on a curacy. When I think of it it really seems thathe must have been mad."

  "But you don't think him so mad now, dear?"

  "He doesn't know a word about it yet; not a word. He hasn't been inthe house since, and papa and he didn't speak,--not in a friendlyway,--till the news came of poor Hugh's being drowned. Then he cameup to papa, and, of course, papa took his hand. But he still thinkshe is going away."

  "And when is he to be told that he needn't go?"

  "That is the difficulty. Mamma will have to do it, I believe. Butwhat she will say, I'm sure I for one can't think."

  "Mrs. Clavering will have no difficulty."

  "You mustn't call her Mrs. Clavering."

  "Lady Clavering then."

  "That's a great deal worse. She's your mamma now,--not quite so muchas she is mine, but the next thing to it."

  "She'll know what to say to Mr. Saul."

  "But what is she to say?"

  "Well, Fanny,--you ought to know that. I suppose you do--love him?"

  "I have never told him so."

  "But you will?"

  "It seems so odd. Mamma will have to-- Suppose he were to turn roundand say he didn't want me?"

  "That would be awkward."

  "He would in a minute if that was what he felt. The idea of havingthe living would not weigh with him a bit."

  "But when he was so much in love before, it won't make him out oflove;--will it?"

  "I don't know," said Fanny. "At any rate, mamma is to see himto-morrow, and after that I suppose;--I'm sure I don't know,--but Isuppose he'll come to the rectory as he used to do."

  "How happy you must be," said Florence, kissing her. To this Fannymade some unintelligible demur. It was undoubtedly possible that,under the altered circumstances of the case, so strange a being asMr. Saul might have changed his mind.

  There was a great trial awaiting Florence Burton. She had to be takenup to call on the ladies at the great house,--on the two widowedladies who were still remaining there when she came to Clavering.It was only on the day before her arrival that Harry had seen LadyOngar. He had thought much of the matter before he went across tothe house, doubting whether it would not be better to let Julia gowithout troubling her with a further interview. But he had not thenseen even Lady Clavering since the tidings of her bereavement hadcome, and he felt that it would not be well that he should let hiscousin's widow leave Clavering without offering her his sympathy. Andit might be better, also, that he should see Julia once again, ifonly that he might show himself capable of meeting her without theexhibition of any peculiar emotion. He went, therefore, to the house,and having asked for Lady Clavering, saw both the sisters together.He soon found that the presence of the younger one was a relief tohim. Lady Clavering was so sad, and so peevish in her sadness,--sobroken-spirited, so far as yet from recognizing the greatenfranchisement that had come to her, that with her alone he wouldhave found himself almost unable to express the sympathy which hefelt. But with Lady Ongar he had no difficulty. Lady Ongar, hersister being with them in the room, talked to him easily, as thoughthere had never been anything between them to make conversationdifficult. That all words between them should, on such an occasionas this, be sad, was a matter of course; but it seemed to Harry thatJulia had freed herself from all the effects of that feeling whichhad existed between them, and that it would become him to do thisas effectually as she had done it. Such an idea, at least, was inhis mind for a moment; but when he left her she spoke one wordwhich dispelled it. "Harry," she said, "you must ask Miss Burtonto come across and see me. I hear that she is to be at the rectoryto-morrow." Harry of course said that he would send her. "She willunderstand why I cannot go to her, as I should do,--but for poorHermy's position. You will explain this, Harry." Harry, blushing upto his forehead, declared that Florence would require no explanation,and that she would certainly make the visit as proposed. "I wish tosee her, Harry,--so much. And if I do not see her now, I may neverhave another chance."

  It was nearly a week after this that Florence went across tothe great house with Mrs. Clavering and Fanny. I think that sheunderstood the nature of the visit she was called upon to make,and no doubt she trembled much at the coming ordeal. She was goingto see her great rival,--her rival, who had almost been preferredto her,--nay, who had been preferred to her for some short spaceof time, and whose claims as to beauty and wealth were so greatlysuperior to her own. And this woman whom she was to see had been thefirst love of the man whom she now regarded as her own,--and wouldhave been about to be his wife at this moment had it not been for herown treachery to him. Was she so beautiful as people said? Florence,in the bottom of her heart, wished that she might have been savedfrom this interview.

  The three ladies from the rectory found the two ladies at the greathouse sitting together in the small drawing-room. Florence wasso confused that she could hardly bring herself to speak to LadyClavering, or so much as to look at Lady Ongar. Sh
e shook hands withthe elder sister, and knew that her hand was then taken by the other.Julia at first spoke a very few words to Mrs. Clavering, and Fannysat herself down beside Hermione. Florence took a chair at a littledistance, and was left there for a few minutes without notice. Forthis she was very thankful, and by degrees was able to fix her eyeson the face of the woman whom she so feared to see, and yet on whomshe so desired to look. Lady Clavering was a mass of ill-arrangedwidow's weeds. She had assumed in all its grotesque ugliness thoseparaphernalia of outward woe which women have been condemned to wear,in order that for a time they may be shorn of all the charms oftheir sex. Nothing could be more proper or unbecoming than the heavy,drooping, shapeless blackness in which Lady Clavering had envelopedherself. But Lady Ongar, though also a widow, though as yet awidow of not twelve months' standing, was dressed,--in weeds, nodoubt,--but in weeds which had been so cultivated that they were asgood as flowers. She was very beautiful. Florence owned to herselfas she sat there in silence, that Lady Ongar was the most beautifulwoman that she had ever seen. But hers was not the beauty by which,as she would have thought, Harry Clavering would have been attracted.Lady Ongar's form, bust, and face were, at this period of her life,almost majestic; whereas the softness and grace of womanhood were thecharms which Harry loved. He had sometimes said to Florence that, tohis taste, Cecilia Burton was almost perfect as a woman. And therecould be no contrast greater than that between Cecilia Burton andLady Ongar. But Florence did not remember that the Julia Brabazon ofthree years since had not been the same as the Lady Ongar whom nowshe saw.

  When they had been there some minutes Lady Ongar came and sat besideFlorence, moving her seat as though she were doing the most naturalthing in the world. Florence's heart came to her mouth, but she madea resolution that she would, if possible, bear herself well. "Youhave been at Clavering before, I think?" said Lady Ongar. Florencesaid that she had been at the parsonage during the last Easter."Yes,--I heard that you dined here with my brother-in-law." This shesaid in a low voice, having seen that Lady Clavering was engaged withFanny and Mrs. Clavering. "Was it not terribly sudden?"

  "Terribly sudden," said Florence.

  "The two brothers! Had you not met Captain Clavering?"

  "Yes,--he was here when I dined with your sister."

  "Poor fellow! Is it not odd that they should have gone, and thattheir friend, whose yacht it was, should have been saved? They say,however, that Mr. Stuart behaved admirably, begging his friends toget into the boat first. He stayed by the vessel when the boat wascarried away, and he was saved in that way. But he meant to do thebest he could for them. There's no doubt of that."

  "But how dreadful his feelings must be!"

  "Men do not think so much of these things as we do. They have so muchmore to employ their minds. Don't you think so?" Florence did not atthe moment quite know what she thought about men's feelings, but saidthat she supposed that such was the case. "But I think that afterall they are juster than we are," continued Lady Ongar,--"juster andtruer, though not so tender-hearted. Mr. Stuart, no doubt, would havebeen willing to drown himself to save his friends, because the faultwas in some degree his. I don't know that I should have been able todo so much."

  "In such a moment it must have been so difficult to think of whatought to be done."

  "Yes, indeed; and there is but little good in speculating upon itnow. You know this place, do you not;--the house, I mean, and thegardens?"

  "Not very well." Florence, as she answered this question, began againto tremble. "Take a turn with me, and I will show you the garden. Myhat and cloak are in the hall." Then Florence got up to accompanyher, trembling very much inwardly. "Miss Burton and I are goingout for a few minutes," said Lady Ongar, addressing herself to Mrs.Clavering. "We will not keep you waiting very long."

  "We are in no hurry," said Mrs. Clavering. Then Florence was carriedoff, and found herself alone with her conquered rival.

  "Not that there is much to show you," said Lady Ongar; "indeednothing; but the place must be of more interest to you than to anyone else; and if you are fond of that sort of thing, no doubt youwill make it all that is charming."

  "I am very fond of a garden," said Florence.

  "I don't know whether I am. Alone, by myself, I think I should carenothing for the prettiest Eden in all England. I don't think Iwould care for a walk through the Elysian fields by myself. I am achameleon, and take the colour of those with whom I live. My futurecolours will not be very bright as I take it. It's a gloomy placeenough; is it not? But there are fine trees, you see, which are theonly things which one cannot by any possibility command. Given goodtrees, taste and money may do anything very quickly; as I have nodoubt you'll find."

  "I don't suppose I shall have much to do with it--at present."

  "I should think that you will have everything to do with it. There,Miss Burton; I brought you here to show you this very spot, and tomake to you my confession here,--and to get from you, here, one wordof confidence, if you will give it me." Florence was trembling nowoutwardly as well as inwardly. "You know my story; as far, I mean, asI had a story once, in conjunction with Harry Clavering?"

  Lady Ongar and Florence.]

  "I think I do," said Florence.

  "I am sure you do," said Lady Ongar. "He has told me that you do; andwhat he says is always true. It was here, on this spot, that I gavehim back his troth to me, and told him that I would have none of hislove, because he was poor. That is barely two years ago. Now he ispoor no longer. Now, had I been true to him, a marriage with himwould have been, in a prudential point of view, all that any womancould desire. I gave up the dearest heart, the sweetest temper, ay,and the truest man that, that-- Well, you have won him instead, andhe has been the gainer. I doubt whether I ever should have made himhappy; but I know that you will do so. It was just here that I partedfrom him."

  "He has told me of that parting," said Florence.

  "I am sure he has. And, Miss Burton, if you will allow me to say oneword further,--do not be made to think any ill of him because of whathappened the other day."

  "I think no ill of him," said Florence proudly.

  "That is well. But I am sure you do not. You are not one to thinkevil, as I take it, of anybody; much less of him whom you love. Whenhe saw me again, free as I am, and when I saw him, thinking him alsoto be free, was it strange that some memory of old days should comeback upon us? But the fault, if fault there has been, was mine."

  "I have never said that there was any fault."

  "No, Miss Burton; but others have said so. No doubt I am foolishto talk to you in this way; and I have not yet said that which Idesired to say. It is simply this;--that I do not begrudge you yourhappiness. I wished the same happiness to be mine; but it is notmine. It might have been, but I forfeited it. It is past; and I willpray that you may enjoy it long. You will not refuse to receive mycongratulations?"

  "Indeed, I will not."

  "Or to think of me as a friend of your husband's?"

  "Oh, no."

  "That is all then. I have shown you the gardens, and now we maygo in. Some day, perhaps, when you are Lady Paramount here, andyour children are running about the place, I may come again to seethem;--if you and he will have me."

  "I hope you will, Lady Ongar. In truth, I hope so."

  "It is odd enough that I said to him once that I would never go toClavering Park again till I went there to see his wife. That was longbefore those two poor brothers perished,--before I had ever heard ofFlorence Burton. And yet, indeed, it was not very long ago. It wassince my husband died. But that was not quite true, for here I am,and he has not yet got a wife. But it was odd; was it not?"

  "I cannot think what should have made you say that."

  "A spirit of prophecy comes on one sometimes, I suppose. Well; shallwe go in? I have shown you all the wonders of the garden, and toldyou all the wonders connected with it of which I know aught. No doubtthere would be other wonders, more wonderful, if one could ransackthe private history of all the
Claverings for the last hundred years.I hope, Miss Burton, that any marvels which may attend your careerhere may be happy marvels." She then took Florence by the hand, anddrawing close to her, stooped over and kissed her. "You will think mea fool, of course," said she; "but I do not care for that." Florencenow was in tears, and could make no answer in words; but she pressedthe hand which she still held, and then followed her companion backinto the house. After that, the visit was soon brought to an end, andthe three ladies from the rectory returned across the park to theirhouse.