The Way We Live Now

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XIII.

  THE LONGESTAFFES.

  Mr. Adolphus Longestaffe, the squire of Caversham in Suffolk, and ofPickering Park in Sussex, was closeted on a certain morning for thebest part of an hour with Mr. Melmotte in Abchurch Lane, had therediscussed all his private affairs, and was about to leave the roomwith a very dissatisfied air. There are men,--and old men too, whoought to know the world,--who think that if they can only find theproper Medea to boil the cauldron for them, they can have theirruined fortunes so cooked that they shall come out of the pot freshand new and unembarrassed. These great conjurors are generally soughtfor in the City; and in truth the cauldrons are kept boiling thoughthe result of the process is seldom absolute rejuvenescence. Nogreater Medea than Mr. Melmotte had ever been potent in moneymatters, and Mr. Longestaffe had been taught to believe that if hecould get the necromancer even to look at his affairs everythingwould be made right for him. But the necromancer had explained tothe squire that property could not be created by the waving of anywand or the boiling of any cauldron. He, Mr. Melmotte, could putMr. Longestaffe in the way of realising property without delay,of changing it from one shape into another, or could find out thereal market value of the property in question; but he could createnothing. "You have only a life interest, Mr. Longestaffe."

  "No; only a life interest. That is customary with family estates inthis country, Mr. Melmotte."

  "Just so. And therefore you can dispose of nothing else. Your son, ofcourse, could join you, and then you could sell either one estate orthe other."

  "There is no question of selling Caversham, sir. Lady Pomona and Ireside there."

  "Your son will not join you in selling the other place?"

  "I have not directly asked him; but he never does do anything that Iwish. I suppose you would not take Pickering Park on a lease for mylife."

  "I think not, Mr. Longestaffe. My wife would not like theuncertainty."

  Then Mr. Longestaffe took his leave with a feeling of outragedaristocratic pride. His own lawyer would almost have done as muchfor him, and he need not have invited his own lawyer as a guest toCaversham,--and certainly not his own lawyer's wife and daughter.He had indeed succeeded in borrowing a few thousand pounds from thegreat man at a rate of interest which the great man's head clerk wasto arrange, and this had been effected simply on the security of thelease of a house in town. There had been an ease in this, an absenceof that delay which generally took place between the expressionof his desire for money and the acquisition of it,--and this hadgratified him. But he was already beginning to think that he mightpay too dearly for that gratification. At the present moment,too, Mr. Melmotte was odious to him for another reason. He hadcondescended to ask Mr. Melmotte to make him a director of the SouthCentral Pacific and Mexican Railway, and he,--Adolphus Longestaffeof Caversham,--had had his request refused! Mr. Longestaffe hadcondescended very low. "You have made Lord Alfred Grendall one!" hehad said in a complaining tone. Then Mr. Melmotte explained that LordAlfred possessed peculiar aptitudes for the position. "I'm sure Icould do anything that he does," said Mr. Longestaffe. Upon thisMr. Melmotte, knitting his brows and speaking with some roughness,replied that the number of directors required was completed. Sincehe had had two duchesses at his house Mr. Melmotte was beginning tofeel that he was entitled to bully any mere commoner, especially acommoner who could ask him for a seat at his board.

  Mr. Longestaffe was a tall, heavy man, about fifty, with hair andwhiskers carefully dyed, whose clothes were made with great care,though they always seemed to fit him too tightly, and who thoughtvery much of his personal appearance. It was not that he consideredhimself handsome, but that he was specially proud of his aristocraticbearing. He entertained an idea that all who understood the matterwould perceive at a single glance that he was a gentleman of thefirst water, and a man of fashion. He was intensely proud of hisposition in life, thinking himself to be immensely superior to allthose who earned their bread. There were no doubt gentlemen ofdifferent degrees, but the English gentleman of gentlemen was he whohad land, and family title-deeds, and an old family place, and familyportraits, and family embarrassments, and a family absence of anyuseful employment. He was beginning even to look down upon peers,since so many men of much less consequence than himself had been madelords; and, having stood and been beaten three or four times for hiscounty, he was of opinion that a seat in the House was rather a markof bad breeding. He was a silly man, who had no fixed idea that itbehoved him to be of use to any one; but, yet, he had compassed acertain nobility of feeling. There was very little that his positioncalled upon him to do, but there was much that it forbad him to do.It was not allowed to him to be close in money matters. He couldleave his tradesmen's bills unpaid till the men were clamorous,but he could not question the items in their accounts. He could betyrannical to his servants, but he could not make inquiry as to theconsumption of his wines in the servants' hall. He had no pity forhis tenants in regard to game, but he hesitated much as to raisingtheir rent. He had his theory of life and endeavoured to live up toit; but the attempt had hardly brought satisfaction to himself or tohis family.

  At the present moment, it was the great desire of his heart to sellthe smaller of his two properties and disembarrass the other. Thedebt had not been altogether of his own making, and the arrangementwould, he believed, serve his whole family as well as himself. Itwould also serve his son, who was blessed with a third property ofhis own which he had already managed to burden with debt. The fathercould not bear to be refused; and he feared that his son woulddecline. "But Adolphus wants money as much as any one," Lady Pomonahad said. He had shaken his head and pished and pshawed. Women nevercould understand anything about money. Now he walked down sadly fromMr. Melmotte's office and was taken in his brougham to his lawyer'schambers in Lincoln's Inn. Even for the accommodation of those fewthousand pounds he was forced to condescend to tell his lawyersthat the title-deeds of his house in town must be given up. Mr.Longestaffe felt that the world in general was very hard on him.

  "What on earth are we to do with them?" said Sophia, the eldest MissLongestaffe, to her mother.

  "I do think it's a shame of papa," said Georgiana, the seconddaughter. "I certainly shan't trouble myself to entertain them."

  "Of course you will leave them all on my hands," said Lady Pomonawearily.

  "But what's the use of having them?" urged Sophia. "I can understandgoing to a crush at their house in town when everybody else goes. Onedoesn't speak to them, and need not know them afterwards. As to thegirl, I'm sure I shouldn't remember her if I were to see her."

  "It would be a fine thing if Adolphus would marry her," said LadyPomona.

  "Dolly will never marry anybody," said Georgiana. "The idea of histaking the trouble of asking a girl to have him! Besides, he won'tcome down to Caversham; cart-ropes wouldn't bring him. If that is tobe the game, mamma, it is quite hopeless."

  "Why should Dolly marry such a creature as that?" asked Sophia.

  "Because everybody wants money," said Lady Pomona. "I'm sure I don'tknow what your papa is to do, or how it is that there never is anymoney for anything. I don't spend it."

  "I don't think that we do anything out of the way," said Sophia. "Ihaven't the slightest idea what papa's income is; but if we're tolive at all, I don't know how we are to make a change."

  "It's always been like this ever since I can remember," saidGeorgiana, "and I don't mean to worry about it any more. I supposeit's just the same with other people, only one doesn't know it."

  "But, my dears--when we are obliged to have such people as theseMelmottes!"

  "As for that, if we didn't have them somebody else would. I shan'ttrouble myself about them. I suppose it will only be for two days."

  "My dear, they're coming for a week!"

  "Then papa must take them about the country, that's all. I never didhear of anything so absurd. What good can they do papa by being downthere?"

  "He is wonderfully rich," said Lady Pomona.

 
"But I don't suppose he'll give papa his money," continued Georgiana."Of course I don't pretend to understand, but I think there is morefuss about these things than they deserve. If papa hasn't got moneyto live at home, why doesn't he go abroad for a year? The SydneyBeauchamps did that, and the girls had quite a nice time of it inFlorence. It was there that Clara Beauchamp met young Lord Liffey.I shouldn't at all mind that kind of thing, but I think it quitehorrible to have these sort of people brought down upon us atCaversham. No one knows who they are, or where they came from, orwhat they'll turn to." So spoke Georgiana, who among the Longestaffeswas supposed to have the strongest head, and certainly the sharpesttongue.

  This conversation took place in the drawing-room of the Longestaffes'family town-house in Bruton Street. It was not by any means acharming house, having but few of those luxuries and elegancies whichhave been added of late years to newly-built London residences. Itwas gloomy and inconvenient, with large drawing-rooms, bad bedrooms,and very little accommodation for servants. But it was the old familytown-house, having been inhabited by three or four generations ofLongestaffes, and did not savour of that radical newness whichprevails, and which was peculiarly distasteful to Mr. Longestaffe.Queen's Gate and the quarters around were, according to Mr.Longestaffe, devoted to opulent tradesmen. Even Belgrave Square,though its aristocratic properties must be admitted, still smeltof the mortar. Many of those living there and thereabouts hadnever possessed in their families real family town-houses. The oldstreets lying between Piccadilly and Oxford Street, with one or twowell-known localities to the south and north of these boundaries,were the proper sites for these habitations. When Lady Pomona,instigated by some friend of high rank but questionable taste, hadonce suggested a change to Eaton Square, Mr. Longestaffe had at oncesnubbed his wife. If Bruton Street wasn't good enough for her and thegirls then they might remain at Caversham. The threat of remaining atCaversham had been often made, for Mr. Longestaffe, proud as he wasof his town-house, was, from year to year, very anxious to save theexpense of the annual migration. The girls' dresses and the girls'horses, his wife's carriage and his own brougham, his dull Londondinner-parties, and the one ball which it was always necessary thatLady Pomona should give, made him look forward to the end of July,with more dread than to any other period. It was then that he beganto know what that year's season would cost him. But he had never yetbeen able to keep his family in the country during the entire year.The girls, who as yet knew nothing of the Continent beyond Paris, hadsignified their willingness to be taken about Germany and Italy fortwelve months, but had shown by every means in their power that theywould mutiny against any intention on their father's part to keepthem at Caversham during the London season.

  Georgiana had just finished her strong-minded protest against theMelmottes, when her brother strolled into the room. Dolly did notoften show himself in Bruton Street. He had rooms of his own,and could seldom even be induced to dine with his family. Hismother wrote to him notes without end,--notes every day, pressinginvitations of all sorts upon him; would he come and dine; would hetake them to the theatre; would he go to this ball; would he go tothat evening-party? These Dolly barely read, and never answered. Hewould open them, thrust them into some pocket, and then forget them.Consequently his mother worshipped him; and even his sisters, whowere at any rate superior to him in intellect, treated him with acertain deference. He could do as he liked, and they felt themselvesto be slaves, bound down by the dulness of the Longestaffe regime.His freedom was grand to their eyes, and very enviable, although theywere aware that he had already so used it as to impoverish himself inthe midst of his wealth.

  "My dear Adolphus," said the mother, "this is so nice of you."

  "I think it is rather nice," said Dolly, submitting himself to bekissed.

  "Oh Dolly, whoever would have thought of seeing you?" said Sophia.

  "Give him some tea," said his mother. Lady Pomona was always havingtea from four o'clock till she was taken away to dress for dinner.

  "I'd sooner have soda and brandy," said Dolly.

  "My darling boy!"

  "I didn't ask for it, and I don't expect to get it; indeed I don'twant it. I only said I'd sooner have it than tea. Where's thegovernor?" They all looked at him with wondering eyes. There must besomething going on more than they had dreamed of, when Dolly asked tosee his father.

  "Papa went out in the brougham immediately after lunch," said Sophiagravely.

  "I'll wait a little for him," said Dolly, taking out his watch.

  "Do stay and dine with us," said Lady Pomona.

  "I could not do that, because I've got to go and dine with somefellow."

  "Some fellow! I believe you don't know where you're going," saidGeorgiana.

  "My fellow knows. At least he's a fool if he don't."

  "Adolphus," began Lady Pomona very seriously, "I've got a plan andI want you to help me."

  "I hope there isn't very much to do in it, mother."

  "We're all going to Caversham, just for Whitsuntide, and weparticularly want you to come."

  "By George! no; I couldn't do that."

  "You haven't heard half. Madame Melmotte and her daughter arecoming."

  "The d---- they are!" ejaculated Dolly.

  "Dolly!" said Sophia, "do remember where you are."

  "Yes I will;--and I'll remember too where I won't be. I won't go toCaversham to meet old mother Melmotte."

  "My dear boy," continued the mother, "do you know that Miss Melmottewill have twenty--thousand--a year the day she marries; and thatin all probability her husband will some day be the richest man inEurope?"

  "Half the fellows in London are after her," said Dolly.

  "Why shouldn't you be one of them?"

  "She isn't going to stay in the same house with half the fellows inLondon," suggested Georgiana. "If you've a mind to try it you'll havea chance which nobody else can have just at present."

  "But I haven't any mind to try it. Good gracious me;--oh dear! itisn't at all in my way, mother."

  "I knew he wouldn't," said Georgiana.

  "It would put everything so straight," said Lady Pomona.

  "They'll have to remain crooked if nothing else will put themstraight. There's the governor. I heard his voice. Now for a row."Then Mr. Longestaffe entered the room.

  "My dear," said Lady Pomona, "here's Adolphus come to see us." Thefather nodded his head at his son but said nothing. "We want him tostay and dine, but he's engaged."

  "Though he doesn't know where," said Sophia.

  "My fellow knows;--he keeps a book. I've got a letter, sir, ever solong, from those fellows in Lincoln's Inn. They want me to come andsee you about selling something; so I've come. It's an awful bore,because I don't understand anything about it. Perhaps there isn'tanything to be sold. If so I can go away again, you know."

  "You'd better come with me into the study," said the father. "Weneedn't disturb your mother and sisters about business." Then thesquire led the way out of the room, and Dolly followed, making awoful grimace at his sisters. The three ladies sat over their teafor about half-an-hour, waiting,--not the result of the conference,for with that they did not suppose that they would be madeacquainted,--but whatever signs of good or evil might be collectedfrom the manner and appearance of the squire when he should return tothem. Dolly they did not expect to see again,--probably for a month.He and the squire never did come together without quarrelling, andcareless as was the young man in every other respect, he had hithertobeen obdurate as to his own rights in any dealings which he had withhis father. At the end of the half hour Mr. Longestaffe returned tothe drawing-room, and at once pronounced the doom of the family. "Mydear," he said, "we shall not return from Caversham to London thisyear." He struggled hard to maintain a grand dignified tranquillityas he spoke, but his voice quivered with emotion.

  Then the squire led the way out of the room,and Dolly followed.]

  "Papa!" screamed Sophia.

  "My dear, you don't mean it," said Lady Pomona.

/>   "Of course papa doesn't mean it," said Georgiana rising to her feet.

  "I mean it accurately and certainly," said Mr. Longestaffe. "We go toCaversham in about ten days, and we shall not return from Cavershamto London this year."

  "Our ball is fixed," said Lady Pomona.

  "Then it must be unfixed." So saying, the master of the house leftthe drawing-room and descended to his study.

  The three ladies, when left to deplore their fate, expressed theiropinions as to the sentence which had been pronounced very strongly.But the daughters were louder in their anger than was their mother.

  "He can't really mean it," said Sophia.

  "He does," said Lady Pomona, with tears in her eyes.

  "He must unmean it again;--that's all," said Georgiana. "Dolly hassaid something to him very rough, and he resents it upon us. Why didhe bring us up at all if he means to take us down before the seasonhas begun?"

  "I wonder what Adolphus has said to him. Your papa is always hardupon Adolphus."

  "Dolly can take care of himself," said Georgiana, "and always does doso. Dolly does not care for us."

  "Not a bit," said Sophia.

  "I'll tell you what you must do, mamma. You mustn't stir from thisat all. You must give up going to Caversham altogether, unless hepromises to bring us back. I won't stir,--unless he has me carriedout of the house."

  "My dear, I couldn't say that to him."

  "Then I will. To go and be buried down in that place for a whole yearwith no one near us but the rusty old bishop and Mr. Carbury, whois rustier still. I won't stand it. There are some sort of thingsthat one ought not to stand. If you go down I shall stay up with thePrimeros. Mrs. Primero would have me I know. It wouldn't be nice ofcourse. I don't like the Primeros. I hate the Primeros. Oh yes;--it'squite true; I know that as well as you, Sophia; they are vulgar; butnot half so vulgar, mamma, as your friend Madame Melmotte."

  "That's ill-natured, Georgiana. She is not a friend of mine."

  "But you're going to have her down at Caversham. I can't think whatmade you dream of going to Caversham just now, knowing as you do howhard papa is to manage."

  "Everybody has taken to going out of town at Whitsuntide, my dear."

  "No, mamma; everybody has not. People understand too well the troubleof getting up and down for that. The Primeros aren't going down. Inever heard of such a thing in all my life. What does he expect is tobecome of us? If he wants to save money why doesn't he shut Cavershamup altogether and go abroad? Caversham costs a great deal more thanis spent in London, and it's the dullest house, I think, in allEngland."

  The family party in Bruton Street that evening was not very gay.Nothing was being done, and they sat gloomily in each other'scompany. Whatever mutinous resolutions might be formed and carriedout by the ladies of the family, they were not brought forward onthat occasion. The two girls were quite silent, and would not speakto their father, and when he addressed them they answered simply bymonosyllables. Lady Pomona was ill, and sat in a corner of a sofa,wiping her eyes. To her had been imparted up-stairs the purport ofthe conversation between Dolly and his father. Dolly had refused toconsent to the sale of Pickering unless half the produce of the salewere to be given to him at once. When it had been explained to himthat the sale would be desirable in order that the Caversham propertymight be freed from debt, which Caversham property would eventuallybe his, he replied that he also had an estate of his own which was alittle mortgaged and would be the better for money. The result seemedto be that Pickering could not be sold,--and, as a consequence ofthat, Mr. Longestaffe had determined that there should be no moreLondon expenses that year.

  The girls, when they got up to go to bed, bent over him and kissedhis head, as was their custom. There was very little show ofaffection in the kiss. "You had better remember that what you haveto do in town must be done this week," he said. They heard the words,but marched in stately silence out of the room without deigning tonotice them.