The Way We Live Now

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XII.

  SIR FELIX IN HIS MOTHER'S HOUSE.

  When all her friends were gone Lady Carbury looked about for herson,--not expecting to find him, for she knew how punctual was hisnightly attendance at the Beargarden, but still with some faint hopethat he might have remained on this special occasion to tell herof his fortune. She had watched the whispering, had noticed thecool effrontery with which Felix had spoken,--for without hearingthe words she had almost known the very moment in which he wasasking,--and had seen the girl's timid face, and eyes turned to theground, and the nervous twitching of her hands as she replied. As awoman, understanding such things, who had herself been wooed, whohad at least dreamed of love, she had greatly disapproved her son'smanner. But yet, if it might be successful, if the girl would put upwith love-making so slight as that, and if the great Melmotte wouldaccept in return for his money a title so modest as that of her son,how glorious should her son be to her in spite of his indifference!

  "I heard him leave the house before the Melmottes went," saidHenrietta, when the mother spoke of going up to her son's bedroom.

  "He might have stayed to-night. Do you think he asked her?"

  "How can I say, mamma?"

  "I should have thought you would have been anxious about yourbrother. I feel sure he did,--and that she accepted him."

  "If so I hope he will be good to her. I hope he loves her."

  "Why shouldn't he love her as well as any one else? A girl need notbe odious because she has money. There is nothing disagreeable abouther."

  "No,--nothing disagreeable. I do not know that she is especiallyattractive."

  "Who is? I don't see anybody specially attractive. It seems to me youare quite indifferent about Felix."

  "Do not say that, mamma."

  "Yes you are. You don't understand all that he might be with thisgirl's fortune, and what he must be unless he gets money by marriage.He is eating us both up."

  "I would not let him do that, mamma."

  "It's all very well to say that, but I have some heart. I love him.I could not see him starve. Think what he might be with L20,000a-year!"

  "If he is to marry for that only, I cannot think that they will behappy."

  "You had better go to bed, Henrietta. You never say a word to comfortme in all my troubles."

  Then Henrietta went to bed, and Lady Carbury absolutely sat up thewhole night waiting for her son, in order that she might hear histidings. She went up to her room, disembarrassed herself of herfinery, and wrapped herself in a white dressing-gown. As she satopposite to her glass, relieving her head from its garniture of falsehair, she acknowledged to herself that age was coming on her. Shecould hide the unwelcome approach by art,--hide it more completelythan can most women of her age; but, there it was, stealing on herwith short grey hairs over her ears and around her temples, withlittle wrinkles round her eyes easily concealed by unobjectionablecosmetics, and a look of weariness round the mouth which could onlybe removed by that self-assertion of herself which practice hadmade always possible to her in company, though it now so frequentlydeserted her when she was alone.

  But she was not a woman to be unhappy because she was growingold. Her happiness, like that of most of us, was ever in thefuture,--never reached but always coming. She, however, had notlooked for happiness to love and loveliness, and need not thereforebe disappointed on that score. She had never really determined whatit was that might make her happy,--having some hazy aspiration aftersocial distinction and literary fame, in which was ever commingledsolicitude respecting money. But at the present moment her greatfears and her great hopes were centred on her son. She would notcare how grey might be her hair, or how savage might be Mr. Alf, ifher Felix were to marry this heiress. On the other hand, nothingthat pearl-powder or the "Morning Breakfast Table" could do wouldavail anything, unless he could be extricated from the ruin thatnow surrounded him. So she went down into the dining-room, that shemight be sure to hear the key in the door, even should she sleep, andwaited for him with a volume of French memoirs in her hand.

  Unfortunate woman! she might have gone to bed and have been dulycalled about her usual time, for it was past eight and the fullstaring daylight shone into her room when Felix's cab brought him tothe door. The night had been very wretched to her. She had slept, andthe fire had sunk nearly to nothing and had refused to become againcomfortable. She could not keep her mind to her book, and while shewas awake the time seemed to be everlasting. And then it was soterrible to her that he should be gambling at such hours as these!Why should he desire to gamble if this girl's fortune was ready tofall into his hands? Fool, to risk his health, his character, hisbeauty, the little money which at this moment of time might beso indispensable to his great project, for the chance of winningsomething which in comparison with Marie Melmotte's money must bedespicable! But at last he came! She waited patiently till hehad thrown aside his hat and coat, and then she appeared at thedining-room door. She had studied her part for the occasion. Shewould not say a harsh word, and now she endeavoured to meet him witha smile. "Mother," he said, "you up at this hour!" His face wasflushed, and she thought that there was some unsteadiness in hisgait. She had never seen him tipsy, and it would be doubly terribleto her if such should be his condition.

  "I could not go to bed till I had seen you."

  "Why not? why should you want to see me? I'll go to bed now. There'llbe plenty of time by-and-bye."

  "Is anything the matter, Felix?"

  "Matter;--what should be the matter? There's been a gentle row amongthe fellows at the club;--that's all. I had to tell Grasslough a bitof my mind, and he didn't like it. I didn't mean that he should."

  "There is not going to be any fighting, Felix?"

  "What, duelling; oh no,--nothing so exciting as that. Whethersomebody may not have to kick somebody is more than I can say atpresent. You must let me go to bed now, for I am about used up."

  "What did Marie Melmotte say to you?"

  "Nothing particular." And he stood with his hand on the door as heanswered her.

  "And what did you say to her?"

  "Nothing particular. Good heavens, mother, do you think that a man isin a condition to talk about such stuff as that at eight o'clock inthe morning, when he has been up all night?"

  "If you knew all that I suffer on your behalf you would speak a wordto me," she said, imploring him, holding him by the arm, and lookinginto his purple face and bloodshot eyes. She was sure that he hadbeen drinking. She could smell it in his breath.

  "I must go to the old fellow, of course."

  "She told you to go to her father?"

  "As far as I remember, that was about it. Of course, he means tosettle it as he likes. I should say that it's ten to one against me."Pulling himself away with some little roughness from his mother'shold, he made his way up to his own bedroom, occasionally stumblingagainst the stairs.

  Then the heiress herself had accepted her son! If so, surely thething might be done. Lady Carbury recalled to mind her old convictionthat a daughter may always succeed in beating a hard-hearted parentin a contention about marriage, if she be well in earnest. But thenthe girl must be really in earnest, and her earnestness will dependon that of her lover. In this case, however, there was as yet noreason for supposing that the great man would object. As far asoutward signs went, the great man had shown some partiality for herson. No doubt it was Mr. Melmotte who had made Sir Felix a directorof the great American Company. Felix had also been kindly receivedin Grosvenor Square. And then Sir Felix was Sir Felix,--a realbaronet. Mr. Melmotte had no doubt endeavoured to catch this and thatlord; but, failing a lord, why should he not content himself with abaronet? Lady Carbury thought that her son wanted nothing but moneyto make him an acceptable suitor to such a father-in-law as Mr.Melmotte;--not money in the funds, not a real fortune, not so manythousands a-year that could be settled;--the man's own enormouswealth rendered this unnecessary;--but such a one as Mr. Melmottewould not like outward palpable signs of immediate p
overty. Thereshould be means enough for present sleekness and present luxury. Hemust have a horse to ride, and rings and coats to wear, and brightlittle canes to carry, and above all the means of making presents. Hemust not be seen to be poor. Fortunately, most fortunately, Chancehad befriended him lately and had given him some ready money. But ifhe went on gambling Chance would certainly take it all away again.For aught that the poor mother knew, Chance might have done soalready. And then again, it was indispensable that he should abandonthe habit of play--at any rate for the present, while his prospectsdepended on the good opinions of Mr. Melmotte. Of course such a oneas Mr. Melmotte could not like gambling at a club, however much hemight approve of it in the City. Why, with such a preceptor to helphim, should not Felix learn to do his gambling on the Exchange, oramong the brokers, or in the purlieus of the Bank? Lady Carbury wouldat any rate instigate him to be diligent in his position as directorof the Great Mexican Railway,--which position ought to be thebeginning to him of a fortune to be made on his own account. But whathope could there be for him if he should take to drink? Would notall hopes be over with Mr. Melmotte should he ever learn that hisdaughter's lover reached home and tumbled up-stairs to bed betweeneight and nine o'clock in the morning?

  She watched for his appearance on the following day, and began atonce on the subject.

  "Do you know, Felix, I think I shall go down to your cousin Roger forWhitsuntide."

  "To Carbury Manor!" said he, as he eat some devilled kidneys whichthe cook had been specially ordered to get for his breakfast. "Ithought you found it so dull that you didn't mean to go there anymore."

  "I never said so, Felix. And now I have a great object."

  "What will Hetta do?"

  "Go too--why shouldn't she?"

  "Oh; I didn't know. I thought that perhaps she mightn't like it."

  "I don't see why she shouldn't like it. Besides, everything can'tgive way to her."

  "Has Roger asked you?"

  "No; but I'm sure he'd be pleased to have us if I proposed that weshould all go."

  "Not me, mother!"

  "Yes; you especially."

  "Not if I know it, mother. What on earth should I do at CarburyManor?"

  "Madame Melmotte told me last night that they were all going down toCaversham to stay three or four days with the Longestaffes. She spokeof Lady Pomona as quite her particular friend."

  "Oh--h! that explains it all."

  "Explains what, Felix?" said Lady Carbury, who had heard of DollyLongestaffe, and was not without some fear that this projected visitto Caversham might have some matrimonial purpose in reference to thatdelightful young heir.

  "They say at the club that Melmotte has taken up old Longestaffe'saffairs, and means to put them straight. There's an old propertyin Sussex as well as Caversham, and they say that Melmotte is tohave that himself. There's some bother because Dolly, who would doanything for anybody else, won't join his father in selling. So theMelmottes are going to Caversham!"

  "Madame Melmotte told me so."

  "And the Longestaffes are the proudest people in England."

  "Of course we ought to be at Carbury Manor while they are there. Whatcan be more natural? Everybody goes out of town at Whitsuntide; andwhy shouldn't we run down to the family place?"

  "All very natural if you can manage it, mother."

  "And you'll come?"

  "If Marie Melmotte goes, I'll be there at any rate for one day andnight," said Felix.

  His mother thought that, for him, the promise had been graciouslymade.