Very soon after this there came a special invitation from Mr. and Mrs. Roby, asking the Whartons, father and daughter, to dine with them round the corner. It was quite a special invitation, because it came in the form of a card, — which was unusual between the two families. But the dinner was too, in some degree, a special dinner, — as Emily was enabled to explain to her father, the whole speciality having been fully detailed to herself by her aunt. Mr. Roby, whose belongings were not generally aristocratic, had one great connexion with whom, after many years of quarrelling, he had lately come into amity. This was his half-brother, considerably older than himself, and was no other than that Mr. Roby who was now Secretary to the Admiralty, and who in the last Conservative Government had been one of the Secretaries to the Treasury. The oldest Mr. Roby of all, now long since gathered to his fathers, had had two wives and two sons. The elder son had not been left as well off as friends, or perhaps as he himself, could have wished. But he had risen in the world by his wits, had made his way into Parliament, and had become, as all readers of these chronicles know, a staff of great strength to his party. But he had always been a poor man. His periods of office had been much shorter than those of his friend Rattler, and his other sources of income had not been certain. His younger half-brother, who, as far as the great world was concerned, had none of his elder brother’s advantages, had been endowed with some fortune from his mother, and, — in an evil hour for both of them, — had lent the politician money. As one consequence of this transaction, they had not spoken to each other for years. On this quarrel Mrs. Roby was always harping with her own husband, — not taking his part. Her Roby, her Dick, had indeed the means of supporting her with a fair comfort, but had, of his own, no power of introducing her to that sort of society for which her soul craved. But Mr. Thomas Roby was a great man, — though unfortunately poor, — and moved in high circles. Because they had lent their money, — which no doubt was lost for ever, — why should they also lose the advantages of such a connexion? Would it not be wiser rather to take the debt as a basis whereon to found a claim for special fraternal observation and kindred social intercourse? Dick, who was fond of his money, would not for a long time look at the matter in this light, but harassed his brother from time to time by applications which were quite useless, and which by the acerbity of their language altogether shut Mrs. Roby out from the good things which might have accrued to her from so distinguished a brother-in-law. But when it came to pass that Thomas Roby was confirmed in office by the coalition which has been mentioned, Mrs. Dick became very energetic. She went herself to the official hero and told him how desirous she was of peace. Nothing more should be said about the money, — at any rate for the present. Let brothers be brothers. And so it came to pass that the Secretary to the Admiralty with his wife were to dine in Berkeley Street, and that Mr. Wharton was asked to meet them.
“I don’t particularly want to meet Mr. Thomas Roby,” the old barrister said.
“They want you to come,” said Emily, “because there has been some family reconciliation. You usually do go once or twice a year.”
“I suppose it may as well be done,” said Mr. Wharton.
“I think, papa, that they mean to ask Mr. Lopez,” said Emily demurely.
“I told you before that I don’t want to have you banished from your aunt’s home by any man,” said the father. So the matter was settled, and the invitation was accepted. This was just at the end of May, at which time people were beginning to say that the coalition was a success, and some wise men to predict that at last fortuitous parliamentary atoms had so come together by accidental connexion, that a ministry had been formed which might endure for a dozen years. Indeed there was no reason why there should be any end to a ministry built on such a foundation. Of course this was very comfortable to such men as Mr. Roby, so that the Admiralty Secretary when he entered his sister-in-law’s drawing-room was suffused with that rosy hue of human bliss which a feeling of triumph bestows. “Yes,” said he, in answer to some would-be facetious remark from his brother, “I think we have weathered that storm pretty well. It does seem rather odd, my sitting cheek by jowl with Mr. Monk and gentlemen of that kidney; but they don’t bite. I’ve got one of our own set at the head of our own office, and he leads the House. I think upon the whole we’ve got a little the best of it.” This was listened to by Mr. Wharton with great disgust, — for Mr. Wharton was a Tory of the old school, who hated compromises, and abhorred in his heart the class of politicians to whom politics were a profession rather than a creed.
Mr. Roby senior, having escaped from the House, was of course the last, and had indeed kept all the other guests waiting half-an-hour, — as becomes a parliamentary magnate in the heat of the Session. Mr. Wharton, who had been early, saw all the other guests arrive, and among them Mr. Ferdinand Lopez. There was also Mr. Mills Happerton, — partner in Hunky and Sons, — with his wife, respecting whom Mr. Wharton at once concluded that he was there as being the friend of Ferdinand Lopez. If so, how much influence must Ferdinand Lopez have in that house! Nevertheless, Mr. Mills Happerton was in his way a great man, and a credit to Mrs. Roby. And there were Sir Damask and Lady Monogram, who were people moving quite in the first circles. Sir Damask shot pigeons, and so did also Dick Roby, — whence had perhaps arisen an intimacy. But Lady Monogram was not at all a person to dine with Mrs. Dick Roby without other cause than this. But a great official among one’s acquaintance can do so much for one! It was probable that Lady Monogram’s presence was among the first fruits of the happy family reconciliation that had taken place. Then there was Mrs. Leslie, a pretty widow, rather poor, who was glad to receive civilities from Mrs. Roby, and was Emily Wharton’s pet aversion. Mrs. Leslie had said impertinent things to her about Ferdinand Lopez, and she had snubbed Mrs. Leslie. But Mrs. Leslie was serviceable to Mrs. Roby, and had now been asked to her great dinner party.
But the two most illustrious guests have not yet been mentioned. Mrs. Roby had secured a lord, — an absolute peer of Parliament! This was no less a man than Lord Mongrober, whose father had been a great judge in the early part of the century, and had been made a peer. The Mongrober estates were not supposed to be large, nor was the Mongrober influence at this time extensive. But this nobleman was seen about a good deal in society when the dinners given were supposed to be worth eating. He was a fat, silent, red-faced, elderly gentleman, who said very little, and who when he did speak seemed always to be in an ill-humour. He would now and then make ill-natured remarks about his friends’ wines, as suggesting ‘68 when a man would boast of his ‘48 claret; and when costly dainties were supplied for his use, would remark that such and such a dish was very well at some other time of the year. So that ladies attentive to their tables and hosts proud of their cellars would almost shake in their shoes before Lord Mongrober. And it may also be said that Lord Mongrober never gave any chance of retaliation by return dinners. There lived not the man or woman who had dined with Lord Mongrober. But yet the Robys of London were glad to entertain him; and the Mrs. Robys, when he was coming, would urge their cooks to superhuman energies by the mention of his name.
And there was Lady Eustace! Of Lady Eustace it was impossible to say whether her beauty, her wit, her wealth, or the remarkable history of her past life, most recommended her to such hosts and hostesses as Mr. and Mrs. Roby. As her history may be already known to some, no details of it shall be repeated here. At this moment she was free from all marital persecution, and was very much run after by a certain set in society. There were others again who declared that no decent man or woman ought to meet her. On the score of lovers there was really little or nothing to be said against her; but she had implicated herself in an unfortunate second marriage, and then there was that old story about the jewels! But there was no doubt about her money and her good looks, and some considered her to be clever. These completed the list of Mrs. Roby’s great dinner party.
Mr. Wharton, who had arrived early, could not but take notice that Lopez, who
soon followed him into the room, had at once fallen into conversation with Emily, as though there had never been any difficulty in the matter. The father, standing on the rug and pretending to answer the remarks made to him by Dick Roby, could see that Emily said but little. The man, however, was so much at his ease that there was no necessity for her to exert herself. Mr. Wharton hated him for being at his ease. Had he appeared to have been rebuffed by the circumstances of his position the prejudices of the old man would have been lessened. By degrees the guests came. Lord Mongrober stood also on the rug, dumb, with a look of intense impatience for his food, hardly ever condescending to answer the little attempts at conversation made by Mrs. Dick. Lady Eustace gushed into the room, kissing Mrs. Dick and afterwards kissing her great friend of the moment, Mrs. Leslie, who followed. She then looked as though she meant to kiss Lord Mongrober, whom she playfully and almost familiarly addressed. But Lord Mongrober only grunted. Then came Sir Damask and Lady Monogram, and Dick at once began about his pigeons. Sir Damask, who was the most good-natured man in the world, interested himself at once and became energetic; but Lady Monogram looked round the room carefully, and seeing Lady Eustace, turned up her nose, nor did she care much for meeting Lord Mongrober. If she had been taken in as to the Admiralty Robys, then would she let the junior Robys know what she thought about it. Mills Happerton, with his wife, caused the frown on Lady Monogram’s brow to loosen itself a little, for, so great was the wealth and power of the house of Hunky and Sons, that Mr. Mills Happerton was no doubt a feature at any dinner party. Then came the Admiralty Secretary with his wife, and the order for dinner was given.
CHAPTER X
Mrs. Dick’s Dinner Party. — No. II
Dick walked downstairs with Lady Monogram. There had been some doubt whether of right he should not have taken Lady Eustace, but it was held by Mrs. Dick that her ladyship had somewhat impaired her rights by the eccentricities of her career, and also that she would amiably pardon any little wrong against her of that kind, — whereas Lady Monogram was a person to be much considered. Then followed Sir Damask with Lady Eustace. They seemed to be paired so well together that there could be no doubt about them. The ministerial Roby, who was really the hero of the night, took Mrs. Happerton, and our friend Mr. Wharton took the Secretary’s wife. All that had been easy, — so easy that fate had good-naturedly arranged things which are sometimes difficult of management. But then there came an embarrassment. Of course it would in a usual way be right that a married man as was Mr. Happerton should be assigned to the widow Mrs. Leslie, and that the only two “young” people, — in the usual sense of the word, — should go down to dinner together. But Mrs. Roby was at first afraid of Mr. Wharton, and planned it otherwise. When, however, the last moment came she plucked up courage, gave Mrs. Leslie to the great commercial man, and with a brave smile asked Lopez to give his arm to the lady he loved. It is sometimes so hard to manage these “little things,” said she to Lord Mongrober as she put her hand upon his arm. His lordship had been kept standing in that odious drawing-room for more than half-an-hour waiting for a man whom he regarded as a poor Treasury hack, and was by no means in a good humour. Dick Roby’s wine was no doubt good, but he was not prepared to purchase it at such a price as this. “Things always get confused when you have waited an hour for any one,” he said. “What can one do, you know, when the House is sitting?” said the lady apologetically. “Of course you lords can get away, but then you have nothing to do.” Lord Mongrober grunted, meaning to imply by his grunt that any one would be very much mistaken who supposed that he had any work to do because he was a peer of Parliament.
Lopez and Emily were seated next to each other, and immediately opposite to them was Mr. Wharton. Certainly nothing fraudulent had been intended on this occasion, — or it would have been arranged that the father should sit on the same side of the table with the lover, so that he should see nothing of what was going on. But it seemed to Mr. Wharton as though he had been positively swindled by his sister-in-law. There they sat opposite to him, talking to each other apparently with thoroughly mutual confidence, the very two persons whom he most especially desired to keep apart. He had not a word to say to either of the ladies near him. He endeavoured to keep his eyes away from his daughter as much as possible, and to divert his ears from their conversation; — but he could not but look and he could not but listen. Not that he really heard a sentence. Emily’s voice hardly reached him, and Lopez understood the game he was playing much too well to allow his voice to travel. And he looked as though his position were the most commonplace in the world, and as though he had nothing of more than ordinary interest to say to his neighbour. Mr. Wharton, as he sat there, almost made up his mind that he would leave his practice, give up his chambers, abandon even his club, and take his daughter at once to — to; — it did not matter where, so that the place should be very distant from Manchester Square. There could be no other remedy for this evil.
Lopez, though he talked throughout the whole of dinner, — turning sometimes indeed to Mrs. Leslie who sat at his left hand, — said very little that all the world might not have heard. But he did say one such word. “It has been so dreary to me, the last month!” Emily of course had no answer to make to this. She could not tell him that her desolation had been infinitely worse than his, and that she had sometimes felt as though her very heart would break. “I wonder whether it must always be like this with me,” he said, — and then he went back to the theatres, and other ordinary conversation.
“I suppose you’ve got to the bottom of that champagne you used to have,” said Lord Mongrober, roaring across the table to his host, holding his glass in his hand, and with strong marks of disapprobation on his face.
“The very same wine as we were drinking when your lordship last did me the honour of dining here,” said Dick. Lord Mongrober raised his eyebrows, shook his head and put down the glass.
“Shall we try another bottle?” asked Mrs. Dick with solicitude.
“Oh, no; — it’d be all the same, I know. I’ll just take a little dry sherry if you have it.” The man came with the decanter. “No, dry sherry; — dry sherry,” said his lordship. The man was confounded, Mrs. Dick was at her wits’ ends, and everything was in confusion. Lord Mongrober was not the man to be kept waiting by a government subordinate without exacting some penalty for such ill-treatment.
“‘Is lordship is a little out of sorts,” whispered Dick to Lady Monogram.
“Very much out of sorts, it seems.”
“And the worst of it is, there isn’t a better glass of wine in London, and ‘is lordship knows it.”
“I suppose that’s what he comes for,” said Lady Monogram, being quite as uncivil in her way as the nobleman.
“‘E’s like a good many others. He knows where he can get a good dinner. After all, there’s no attraction like that. Of course, a ‘ansome woman won’t admit that, Lady Monogram.”
“I will not admit it, at any rate, Mr. Roby.”
“But I don’t doubt Monogram is as careful as any one else to get the best cook he can, and takes a good deal of trouble about his wine too. Mongrober is very unfair about that champagne. It came out of Madame Cliquot’s cellars before the war, and I gave Sprott and Burlinghammer 110s. for it.”
“Indeed!”
“I don’t think there are a dozen men in London can give you such a glass of wine as that. What do you say about that champagne, Monogram?”
“Very tidy wine,” said Sir Damask.
“I should think it is. I gave 110s. for it before the war. ‘Is lordship’s got a fit of the gout coming, I suppose.”
But Sir Damask was engaged with his neighbour, Lady Eustace. “Of all things I should so like to see a pigeon match,” said Lady Eustace. “I have heard about them all my life. Only I suppose it isn’t quite proper for a lady.”
“Oh, dear, yes.”
“The darling little pigeons! They do sometimes escape, don’t they? I hope they escape sometimes. I’ll go an
y day you’ll make up a party, — if Lady Monogram will join us.” Sir Damask said that he would arrange it, making up his mind, however, at the same time, that this last stipulation, if insisted on, would make the thing impracticable.
Roby the ministerialist, sitting at the end of the table between his sister-in-law and Mrs. Happerton, was very confidential respecting the Government and parliamentary affairs in general. “Yes, indeed; — of course it’s a coalition, but I don’t see why we shouldn’t go on very well. As to the Duke, I’ve always had the greatest possible respect for him. The truth is, there’s nothing special to be done at the present moment, and there’s no reason why we shouldn’t agree and divide the good things between us. The Duke has got some craze of his own about decimal coinage. He’ll amuse himself with that; but it won’t come to anything, and it won’t hurt us.”
“Isn’t the Duchess giving a great many parties?” asked Mrs. Happerton.
“Well; — yes. That kind of thing used to be done in old Lady Brock’s time, and the Duchess is repeating it. There’s no end to their money, you know. But it’s rather a bore for the persons who have to go.” The ministerial Roby knew well how he would make his sister-in-law’s mouth water by such an allusion as this to the great privilege of entering the Prime Minister’s mansion in Carlton Terrace.
“I suppose you in the Government are always asked.”
“We are expected to go too, and are watched pretty close. Lady Glen, as we used to call her, has the eyes of Argus. And of course we who used to be on the other side are especially bound to pay her observance.”
“Don’t you like the Duchess?” asked Mrs. Happerton.
“Oh, yes; — I like her very well. She’s mad, you know, — mad as a hatter, — and no one can ever guess what freak may come next. One always feels that she’ll do something sooner or later that will startle all the world.”
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