He did not again mention the marriage-scheme, but devoted himself instead to the task of guiding the Viscount through the tangled maze of his father’s affairs. He was genuinely grieved to see the look of care deepen in the young man’s fine eyes, but he did not try to minimize the gravity of his predicament: the more fully my lord realized this the more likely would he be to overcome his reluctance to marry for the sake of a fortune. When Wimmering left the Priory it was in a hopeful mood, for his opinion of his new patron’s good sense had mounted considerably. He had taken the shocking news well, not railing against fate, or uttering any word of bitterness. If he blamed his father it was silently: he seemed more inclined to blame himself. He was undoubtedly a little stunned; but when he had recovered he would think it over calmly, and, in his search for a solution to his troubles, remember the suggestion that had been made to him, and perhaps think that over too.
Mr Wimmering was not a very warmhearted man, but when he took leave of Adam he was conscious of a purely human desire to help him. He was behaving beautifully: much better than his father had behaved in moments of sudden stress. When he saw Wimmering off in one of his own carriages, which would convey Wimmering to Market Deeping, on the first stage of his journey back to London, he said, with his delightful smile: ‘You will be jolted to bits, I’m afraid! The road is as bad as any in Portugal. Thank you for undertaking such a tiresome journey: I am very much obliged to you! I shall be in town within a few days – as soon as I have settled some few matters here, and consulted with my mother.’
He shook hands, and waited to see the carriage in motion before going back to the library.
He sat down again at the desk, with the intention of arranging in some sort of order the litter of papers on it, but when he had gathered into a formidable pile the tradesmen’s bills, he sat quite still for a long time, looking through the window at the daffodils, but not seeing them.
He was recalled from this abstraction by the sound of an opening door, and looked round to see that his younger sister was peeping into the room.
‘Has he gone?’ she asked, in conspiratorial accents. ‘May I come in?’
His eyes lit with amusement, but he replied with due gravity: ‘Yes, but take care you are unobserved!’
She twinkled responsively. ‘I like you the best of all my family,’ she confided, coming across the room to the chair lately occupied by Wimmering.
‘Thank you!’
‘Not that that’s saying much,’ she added reflectively, ‘for I don’t count aunts and uncles and cousins. So there are now only four of us. And to tell you the truth, Adam, I only loved Papa in a dutiful way, and Stephen not at all! Of course, I might have loved Maria, if she hadn’t died before I was born, but I don’t think I should have, because from what Mama tells us she was the most odious child!’
‘Lydia, Mama never said such a thing!’ protested Adam.
‘No, exactly the reverse! She says Maria was too good for this world, so you see what I mean, don’t you?’
He could not deny it, but suggested, with a quivering lip, that Maria, had she been spared beyond her sixth year, might have outgrown her oppressive virtue. Lydia agreed to this, though doubtfully, observing that Charlotte was very virtuous too. ‘And I am most sincerely attached to Charlotte,’ she assured him.
‘To Mama also, surely!’
‘Of course: that is obligatory!’ she answered, with dignity.
He was taken aback, but after eyeing her for a moment he prudently refrained from comment. He was not very well-acquainted with her, for she was nine years younger than he; and although, during his weary convalescence, she had frequently diverted him with her youthful opinions, her visits to his sick-bed had been restricted by the exigencies of education. Miss Keckwick, a governess of uncertain age and severe aspect, had rarely failed to summon Lydia from her brother’s room at the end of half-an-hour, either for an Italian lesson, or for an hour’s practice on the harp. The fruits of her painstaking diligence had not so far been made apparent to Adam, for although there was a good deal of intelligence in his sister’s lively face she had as yet vouchsafed no sign of the erudition to be expected in one educated by so highly qualified a preceptress as Miss Keckwick.
He was wondering why she was so much more taking than her elder, and far more beautiful, sister, when she emerged from some undisclosed reverie, and disconcerted him by demanding: ‘Are we ruined, Adam?’
‘Oh, I trust it won’t be as bad as that!’
‘I had better tell you at once,’ interrupted Lydia, ‘that although I have always set my face resolutely against Education, which I very soon perceived would be of no use to me whatsoever, I am not at all stupid! Why, even Charlotte has known that we stood on the brink of disaster for years, and no one could say that her understanding is superior! And also, Adam, I am turned seventeen, besides having a great deal of worldly knowledge, and I mean to help you, if I can, so pray don’t speak in that nothing-to-do-with-you voice!’
‘I beg pardon!’ he apologized hastily.
‘Is it ruin?’
‘Something uncomfortably like it, I’m afraid.’
‘I thought so. Mama has been saying for weeks that she expects at any moment to find herself without a roof over her head.’
‘It won’t be as bad as that,’ he assured her. ‘She will have her jointure – do you know what that is?’
‘Yes, but she says it is a paltry sum, and that we shall be obliged to subsist on black-puddings – and that, Adam, will never do for Mama!’
‘She exaggerates. I hope she will be able to live in tolerable comfort. She will have about eight hundred pounds a year – not a fortune, but at least an independence. With a little economy –’
‘Mama,’ stated Lydia, ‘has never studied economy.’
He smiled. ‘Have you?’
‘Only Political Economy, and that’s of no use! I may not know a great deal about it, but I do know that it has to do with the distribution of wealth, which is why I decided not to tease myself with it, on account of not having any wealth to distribute.’
‘Didn’t the learned Miss Keckwick teach you household economy?’
‘No: her mind was of an elevated order. Besides, everyone knows what that means! It’s having only one course for dinner, and not enough footmen, and making up one’s own dresses, which is perfectly useless, because if you have no money to pay for anything it’s the most idiotish waste of time to be learning how to save it! Mama won’t – but I wasn’t thinking of her: I was thinking of you, and Fontley.’ She bent a serious gaze upon him. ‘Mama says Fontley will be lost to us. Is it true? Please tell me, Adam!’ She read the answer in his face, and lowered her gaze. After carefully pleating her muslin gown across her knees, she said: ‘I find that a truly detestable thought.’
‘So do I,’ he agreed sadly. ‘Too detestable to be talked of, until I’ve grown more accustomed to it.’
She looked up. ‘I know it is much worse for you, and I don’t mean to talk of it in a repining way. The thing is that I’m persuaded we ought to make a push to save it. I have been thinking about it a great deal, and I perceive that it is now my duty to contract a Brilliant Alliance. Do you think I could, if I set my mind to it?’
‘No, certainly not! My dear Lydia –’
‘Well, I do,’ she said decidedly. ‘I can see, of course, that there may be one or two little rubs in the way, particularly the circumstance of my not yet being out. Mama had meant to present me this season, you know, but she can’t do so while we are in black gloves, and I see that if I don’t go into society –’
‘Who put this nonsense into your head?’ interrupted Adam.
She looked surprised. ‘It isn’t nonsense! Why, don’t you know how hopeful Mama was that Charlotte would contract a Brilliant Alliance? She very nearly did, too, but she wouldn’t accept the offer, on account of Lambert Ryde. And I must say that that put me quite out of charity with her! Anyone but a wet-goose would have known what would come
of it, and it did! For weeks Mama talked of nothing but Maria, and how she would never have been so unmindful of her duty as poor Charlotte!’
‘Ryde?’ said Adam, ignoring the latter, and very improper, part of this speech.
‘Yes, don’t you remember him?’
‘Of course I do, but I haven’t seen him since I came home, and –’
‘Oh, no! he’s away. He had to go off to Edinburgh, because one of his Scotch aunts died, and he was a trustee, or some such thing. Adam, you won’t forbid Charlotte to marry him, will you?’
‘Good God, I’ve nothing to say in the matter! Do they still wish it?’
‘Yes, and you have got something to say! Charlotte isn’t of age yet, and I know you are our guardian.’
‘Yes, but –’
‘If you are thinking it wouldn’t be proper to permit anything Papa disliked I can tell you that it wasn’t he, but Mama,’ disclosed Lydia helpfully. ‘He said that she must settle as she liked, but for his part he didn’t care a rush.’ She added, after a thoughtful moment: ‘I shouldn’t wonder at it if you are able to bring Mama round to the notion, now that we are ruined. She won’t like it above half, of course – and I must own that it does seem shockingly wasteful of Charlotte to be squandering herself on Lambert Ryde! However, there’s no need to despair! I’m not acquainted with many young gentlemen, but I do know that I take very well with the old ones, because whenever Papa entertained any of his friends here I went along with them famously! And, from all I can discover, it is the old gentlemen who have the largest fortunes. And I do not see what I have said to make you laugh!’
‘No, of course you don’t – pray forgive me!’ begged Adam. ‘I think you must have been talking to Wimmering?’
‘No! Why?’ she asked, surprised.
‘It is precisely the advice he gave me: to contract a Brilliant Alliance!’
‘Oh!’ she said, subjecting this to profound thought. She shook her head. ‘No, not you. Charlotte says that when one has formed a connection the very thought of marriage to Another is repugnant.’
Adam, making the discovery that his young sister could be as embarrassing as she was amusing, replied with creditable coolness: ‘Does she? Well, I expect she must know better than I do, so I shan’t dispute the matter.’
‘Did you see Julia when you were in London?’ enquired Lydia, impervious to snubs. ‘The Oversleys removed from Beckenhurst at the beginning of the month, you know.’ She observed the slight stiffening of his countenance, and said anxiously: ‘Ought I not to have mentioned it? But she told me about it herself!’
Realizing that only frankness would serve him, he said: ‘I don’t know what she may have told you, Lydia, but you’ll oblige me by forgetting it. We did form an attachment, but we were never betrothed. I haven’t yet called in Mount Street, but I must of course do so, when I return to town, and – well, that’s all there is to be said!’
‘Do you mean that Lord Oversley won’t let Julia marry you now that you’re ruined?’ she demanded.
‘He would be a very bad father if he did,’ he answered, as cheerfully as he could.
‘Well, I think it is wickedly unjust!’ she declared. ‘First you are obliged to settle Papa’s debts, which are no concern of yours, and now you must abandon Julia! Everything falls on you, and you are less to blame than any of us! Mama thinks she is the one to be pitied, but that’s fudge – and you may look as disapproving as you choose, Adam, but it is fudge! In fact, you are the only one of us to be pitied in the least! Mama will have her jointure, Charlotte will marry Lambert, and I have now quite made up my mind to marry a man of fortune!’ She smiled warmly at him. ‘Naturally it would be most disagreeable for you or Charlotte to be obliged to do it, but I shan’t object to it, I assure you! You must know that I am a – a stranger to the tenderer emotions. Except,’ she added, in a less elevated strain, ‘for falling in love with one of the footmen when I was twelve, and that was not a lasting passion, besides being quite ineligible, so we need not consider it. Are you acquainted with any wealthy old gentlemen, Adam?’
‘I’m afraid not. And if I were I should conceal them from you! I had liefer by far let Fontley go than see you sacrificed to save it, and though you haven’t yet been in love there’s no saying but what you might be one day, and then what a bore it would be for you to be tied to a wealthy old gentleman!’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, ‘but one ought to be ready to make sacrifices for one’s family, I think. And, after all, he might be dead by then!’
‘Very true! And if he had survived – though I don’t think it at all likely that he would! – we could always finish him off with a phial of some subtle poison.’
This appealed so strongly to Lydia that she went into a peal of laughter, at which inopportune moment the door opened to admit Lady Lynton, trailing yards of crape, mobled with black lace, and leaning on the arm of her elder daughter. She paused on the threshold, saying in a faint, incredulous voice: ‘Laughing, my dear ones?’
Charlotte, who was as kind as she was beautiful, said: ‘It was so delightful to hear! Lydia was always able to make dear Adam laugh, even when he was in pain, wasn’t she, Mama?’
‘I am glad to know that there is anyone at Fontley who is able to laugh at this moment,’ said Lady Lynton.
There was nothing in her voice or mien to lend colour to this statement, but none of her dear ones ventured to cavil at it. Having completed the discomfiture of the guilty parties by heaving a mournful sigh she allowed Charlotte to support her to a sofa, and sank down upon it. Charlotte arranged a cushion behind her head, placed a stool under her feet, and retired to a chair on the other side of the wide hearth, directing a look of anxious enquiry at her brother as she sat down. There was a strong resemblance between them. Both favoured their mama, unlike the larger and darker Lydia, who took after her father. Lady Lynton’s oft-repeated assertion that Charlotte was the image of what she herself had been strained no one’s credulity, for although time had faded the widow’s fair beauty, and domestic trials had implanted a peevish expression on her classic countenance, she was still a remarkably handsome woman.
‘I collect,’ she said, ‘that That Man has departed. I might have expected, perhaps, that he would have thought it proper to have taken leave of me. No doubt I must accustom myself to being treated as a person of no account.’
‘I’m afraid I must take the blame of that omission on myself, Mama,’ said Adam. ‘Wimmering was anxious to pay his parting respects to you, but I wouldn’t permit it, knowing you to be laid down upon your bed. He charged me with the task of making his apologies.’
‘I am only too thankful to have been spared the necessity of seeing him again,’ stated her ladyship, somewhat irrationally. ‘I never liked him, never! And nothing will convince me that our misfortunes are not due to his management of your poor father’s affairs!’
Once again Charlotte intervened. ‘May we know how matters stand, Adam? We feel they can’t be worse than our conjectures, don’t we, Mama? It can scarcely come as a shock to us, even if we are quite ruined.’
‘Nothing could be a shock to me,’ said her parent. ‘After all I have undergone I have become inured to disaster. I only wish to know when I must expect to find the roof sold over my head.’
‘I won’t do that, I promise you, Mama,’ Adam replied. ‘Indeed, I hope that you at least may be able to live in tolerable comfort, even if we can none of us remain at Fontley.’
Charlotte said in a faltering voice: ‘Must Fontley be sold? Can nothing be done to save it?’
He was looking down at the smouldering logs in the hearth, and answered only with a tiny shake of his head. Tears started to her eyes, but before they could spill over Lydia created a diversion by observing dispassionately that she rather thought Mama was suffering a Spasm.
The widow’s aspect was certainly alarming, and although she revived sufficiently, when her vinaigrette was held under her nose, to express a desire for hartshorn, it was not unt
il a dose of this cordial had been procured by her younger daughter, and held to her lips by Charlotte, that she was able to raise her head from the cushion, and to utter in brave, but failing accents: ‘Thank you, my dear ones! Pray don’t regard it! It was nothing – merely the agitation of having the dreadful tidings broken to me in such a way – ! You have been for so long a stranger to your home, dearest Adam, that you could not be expected to know how wretchedly worn down are my poor nerves.’
‘You must forgive me, Mama: I had really no intention of oversetting you,’ said Adam. ‘It seemed to me to be cruel to conceal from you what you must learn, sooner or later.’
‘No doubt you did as you thought right, my dear son. My first-born!’ said the widow, extending to him one frail hand. ‘But had your brother been spared to me he would have understood how shattering this blow must be to me! Ah, my poor Stephen! always so considerate, so exactly partaking of my sentiments!’
Since the career of her second-born, cut off while he was still up at Oxford, had been distinguished by a sublime disregard for any other considerations than those immediately concerning himself, this ejaculation caused her surviving children to exchange speaking glances.
It was when Adam was struggling to convince her that her jointure and the direst penury were not synonymous terms that Lydia suddenly exclaimed: ‘So Dawes was right! I didn’t think it in the least, but only see! These odious tradesmen are sending bills for things Papa never bought, Adam!’
A Civil Contract Page 2
