CHAPTER XVII.
MARIE MELMOTTE HEARS A LOVE TALE.
On the following morning there came a telegram from Felix. He wasto be expected at Beccles on that afternoon by a certain train; andRoger, at Lady Carbury's request, undertook to send a carriage to thestation for him. This was done, but Felix did not arrive. There wasstill another train by which he might come so as to be just in timefor dinner if dinner were postponed for half an hour. Lady Carburywith a tender look, almost without speaking a word, appealed to hercousin on behalf of her son. He knit his brows, as he always did,involuntarily, when displeased; but he assented. Then the carriagehad to be sent again. Now carriages and carriage-horses were notnumerous at Carbury. The squire kept a waggonnette and a pair ofhorses which, when not wanted for house use, were employed about thefarm. He himself would walk home from the train, leaving the luggageto be brought by some cheap conveyance. He had already sent thecarriage once on this day,--and now sent it again, Lady Carburyhaving said a word which showed that she hoped that this would bedone. But he did it with deep displeasure. To the mother her son wasSir Felix, the baronet, entitled to special consideration because ofhis position and rank,--because also of his intention to marry thegreat heiress of the day. To Roger Carbury, Felix was a vicious youngman, peculiarly antipathetic to himself, to whom no respect whateverwas due. Nevertheless the dinner was put off, and the waggonnette wassent. But the waggonnette again came back empty. That evening wasspent by Roger, Lady Carbury, and Henrietta, in very much gloom.
About four in the morning the house was roused by the coming of thebaronet. Failing to leave town by either of the afternoon trains,he had contrived to catch the evening mail, and had found himselfdeposited at some distant town from which he had posted to Carbury.Roger came down in his dressing-gown to admit him, and Lady Carburyalso left her room. Sir Felix evidently thought that he had been avery fine fellow in going through so much trouble. Roger held a verydifferent opinion, and spoke little or nothing. "Oh, Felix," said themother, "you have so terrified us!"
"I can tell you I was terrified myself when I found that I had tocome fifteen miles across the country with a pair of old jades whocould hardly get up a trot."
"But why didn't you come by the train you named?"
"I couldn't get out of the city," said the baronet with a ready lie.
"I suppose you were at the Board?" To this Felix made no directanswer. Roger knew that there had been no Board. Mr. Melmotte was inthe country and there could be no Board, nor could Sir Felix have hadbusiness in the city. It was sheer impudence,--sheer indifference,and, into the bargain, a downright lie. The young man, who wasof himself so unwelcome, who had come there on a project whichhe, Roger, utterly disapproved,--who had now knocked him and hishousehold up at four o'clock in the morning,--had uttered no word ofapology. "Miserable cub!" Roger muttered between his teeth. Then hespoke aloud, "You had better not keep your mother standing here. Iwill show you your room."
"All right, old fellow," said Sir Felix. "I'm awfully sorry todisturb you all in this way. I think I'll just take a drop of brandyand soda before I go to bed, though." This was another blow to Roger.
"I doubt whether we have soda-water in the house, and if we have,I don't know where to get it. I can give you some brandy if youwill come with me." He pronounced the word "brandy" in a tone whichimplied that it was a wicked, dissipated beverage. It was a wretchedwork to Roger. He was forced to go up-stairs and fetch a key in orderthat he might wait upon this cub,--this cur! He did it, however, andthe cub drank his brandy-and-water, not in the least disturbed by hishost's ill-humour. As he went to bed he suggested the probabilityof his not showing himself till lunch on the following day, andexpressed a wish that he might have breakfast sent to him in bed."He is born to be hung," said Roger to himself as he went to hisroom,--"and he'll deserve it."
On the following morning, being Sunday, they all went tochurch,--except Felix. Lady Carbury always went to church when shewas in the country, never when she was at home in London. It wasone of those moral habits, like early dinners and long walks, whichsuited country life. And she fancied that were she not to do so, thebishop would be sure to know it and would be displeased. She likedthe bishop. She liked bishops generally; and was aware that it was awoman's duty to sacrifice herself for society. As to the purpose forwhich people go to church, it had probably never in her life occurredto Lady Carbury to think of it. On their return they found Sir Felixsmoking a cigar on the gravel path, close in front of the opendrawing-room window.
"Felix," said his cousin, "take your cigar a little farther. You arefilling the house with tobacco."
"Oh heavens,--what a prejudice!" said the baronet.
"Let it be so, but still do as I ask you." Sir Felix chucked thecigar out of his mouth on to the gravel walk, whereupon Roger walkedup to the spot and kicked the offending weed away. This was the firstgreeting of the day between the two men.
After lunch Lady Carbury strolled about with her son, instigating himto go over at once to Caversham. "How the deuce am I to get there?"
"Your cousin will lend you a horse."
"He's as cross as a bear with a sore head. He's a deal older thanI am, and a cousin and all that, but I'm not going to put up withinsolence. If it were anywhere else I should just go into the yardand ask if I could have a horse and saddle as a matter of course."
"Roger has not a great establishment."
"I suppose he has a horse and saddle, and a man to get it ready. Idon't want anything grand."
"He is vexed because he sent twice to the station for you yesterday."
"I hate the kind of fellow who is always thinking of littlegrievances. Such a man expects you to go like clockwork, and becauseyou are not wound up just as he is, he insults you. I shall ask himfor a horse as I would any one else, and if he does not like it, hemay lump it." About half an hour after this he found his cousin. "CanI have a horse to ride over to Caversham this afternoon?" he said.
"Our horses never go out on Sunday," said Roger. Then he added, aftera pause, "You can have it. I'll give the order." Sir Felix wouldbe gone on Tuesday, and it should be his own fault if that odiouscousin ever found his way into Carbury House again! So he declaredto himself as Felix rode out of the yard; but he soon remembered howprobable it was that Felix himself would be the owner of Carbury. Andshould it ever come to pass,--as still was possible,--that Henriettashould be the mistress of Carbury, he could hardly forbid her toreceive her brother. He stood for a while on the bridge watching hiscousin as he cantered away upon the road, listening to the horse'sfeet. The young man was offensive in every possible way. Who does notknow that ladies only are allowed to canter their friends' horsesupon roads? A gentleman trots his horse, and his friend's horse.Roger Carbury had but one saddle horse,--a favourite old hunterthat he loved as a friend. And now this dear old friend, whose legsprobably were not quite so good as they once were, was being gallopedalong the hard road by that odious cub! "Soda and brandy!" Rogerexclaimed to himself almost aloud, thinking of the discomfiture ofthat early morning. "He'll die some day of delirium tremens in ahospital!"
Before the Longestaffes left London to receive their new friendsthe Melmottes at Caversham, a treaty had been made between Mr.Longestaffe, the father, and Georgiana, the strong-minded daughter.The daughter on her side undertook that the guests should be treatedwith feminine courtesy. This might be called the most-favoured-nationclause. The Melmottes were to be treated exactly as though oldMelmotte had been a gentleman and Madame Melmotte a lady. In returnfor this the Longestaffe family were to be allowed to return to town.But here again the father had carried another clause. The prolongedsojourn in town was to be only for six weeks. On the 10th of July theLongestaffes were to be removed into the country for the remainderof the year. When the question of a foreign tour was proposed, thefather became absolutely violent in his refusal. "In God's name wheredo you expect the money is to come from?" When Georgiana urged thatother people had money to go abroad, her father told her tha
t a timewas coming in which she might think it lucky if she had a house overher head. This, however, she took as having been said with poeticallicence, the same threat having been made more than once before.The treaty was very clear, and the parties to it were prepared tocarry it out with fair honesty. The Melmottes were being treated withdecent courtesy, and the house in town was not dismantled.
The idea, hardly ever in truth entertained but which had been barelysuggested from one to another among the ladies of the family, thatDolly should marry Marie Melmotte, had been abandoned. Dolly, withall his vapid folly, had a will of his own, which, among his ownfamily, was invincible. He was never persuaded to any course eitherby his father or mother. Dolly certainly would not marry MarieMelmotte. Therefore when the Longestaffes heard that Sir Felix wascoming to the country, they had no special objection to entertaininghim at Caversham. He had been lately talked of in London as thefavourite in regard to Marie Melmotte. Georgiana Longestaffe had agrudge of her own against Lord Nidderdale, and was on that accountsomewhat well inclined towards Sir Felix's prospects. Soon after theMelmottes' arrival she contrived to say a word to Marie respectingSir Felix. "There is a friend of yours going to dine here on Monday,Miss Melmotte." Marie, who was at the moment still abashed by thegrandeur and size and general fashionable haughtiness of her newacquaintances, made hardly any answer. "I think you know Sir FelixCarbury," continued Georgiana.
"Oh yes, we know Sir Felix Carbury."
"He is coming down to his cousin's. I suppose it is for your brighteyes, as Carbury Manor would hardly be just what he would like."
"I don't think he is coming because of me," said Marie blushing. Shehad once told him that he might go to her father, which according toher idea had been tantamount to accepting his offer as far as herpower of acceptance went. Since that she had seen him, indeed, but hehad not said a word to press his suit, nor, as far as she knew, hadhe said a word to Mr. Melmotte. But she had been very rigorous indeclining the attentions of other suitors. She had made up her mindthat she was in love with Felix Carbury, and she had resolved onconstancy. But she had begun to tremble, fearing his faithlessness.
"We had heard," said Georgiana, "that he was a particular friend ofyours." And she laughed aloud, with a vulgarity which Madame Melmottecertainly could not have surpassed.
Sir Felix, on the Sunday afternoon, found all the ladies out on thelawn, and he also found Mr. Melmotte there. At the last moment LordAlfred Grendall had been asked,--not because he was at all in favourwith any of the Longestaffes, but in order that he might be usefulin disposing of the great Director. Lord Alfred was used to him andcould talk to him, and might probably know what he liked to eat anddrink. Therefore Lord Alfred had been asked to Caversham, and LordAlfred had come, having all his expenses paid by the great Director.When Sir Felix arrived, Lord Alfred was earning his entertainment bytalking to Mr. Melmotte in a summer-house. He had cool drink beforehim and a box of cigars, but was probably thinking at the time howhard the world had been to him. Lady Pomona was languid, but notuncivil in her reception. She was doing her best to perform herpart of the treaty in reference to Madame Melmotte. Sophia waswalking apart with a certain Mr. Whitstable, a young squire in theneighbourhood, who had been asked to Caversham because as Sophia wasnow reputed to be twenty-eight,--they who decided the question mighthave said thirty-one without falsehood,--it was considered that Mr.Whitstable was good enough, or at least as good as could be expected.Sophia was handsome, but with a big, cold, unalluring handsomeness,and had not quite succeeded in London. Georgiana had been moreadmired, and boasted among her friends of the offers which she hadrejected. Her friends on the other hand were apt to tell of her manyfailures. Nevertheless she held her head up, and had not as yet comedown among the rural Whitstables. At the present moment her handswere empty, and she was devoting herself to such a performance of thetreaty as should make it impossible for her father to leave his partof it unfulfilled.
For a few minutes Sir Felix sat on a garden chair making conversationto Lady Pomona and Madame Melmotte. "Beautiful garden," he said; "formyself I don't much care for gardens; but if one is to live in thecountry, this is the sort of thing that one would like."
"Delicious," said Madame Melmotte, repressing a yawn, and drawing hershawl higher round her throat. It was the end of May, and the weatherwas very warm for the time of the year; but, in her heart of hearts,Madame Melmotte did not like sitting out in the garden.
"It isn't a pretty place; but the house is comfortable, and we makethe best of it," said Lady Pomona.
"Plenty of glass, I see," said Sir Felix. "If one is to live in thecountry, I like that kind of thing. Carbury is a very poor place."
There was offence in this;--as though the Carbury property and theCarbury position could be compared to the Longestaffe property andthe Longestaffe position. Though dreadfully hampered for money,the Longestaffes were great people. "For a small place," said LadyPomona, "I think Carbury is one of the nicest in the county. Ofcourse it is not extensive."
"No, by Jove," said Sir Felix, "you may say that, Lady Pomona. It'slike a prison to me with that moat round it." Then he jumped up andjoined Marie Melmotte and Georgiana. Georgiana, glad to be releasedfor a time from performance of the treaty, was not long before sheleft them together. She had understood that the two horses now in therunning were Lord Nidderdale and Sir Felix; and though she would notprobably have done much to aid Sir Felix, she was quite willing todestroy Lord Nidderdale.
Sir Felix had his work to do, and was willing to do it,--as far assuch willingness could go with him. The prize was so great, and thecomfort of wealth was so sure, that even he was tempted to exerthimself. It was this feeling which had brought him into Suffolk, andinduced him to travel all night, across dirty roads, in an old cab.For the girl herself he cared not the least. It was not in his powerreally to care for anybody. He did not dislike her much. He wasnot given to disliking people strongly, except at the moments inwhich they offended him. He regarded her simply as the means bywhich a portion of Mr. Melmotte's wealth might be conveyed to hisuses. In regard to feminine beauty he had his own ideas, and his owninclinations. He was by no means indifferent to such attraction. ButMarie Melmotte, from that point of view, was nothing to him. Suchprettiness as belonged to her came from the brightness of her youth,and from a modest shy demeanour joined to an incipient aspirationfor the enjoyment of something in the world which should be her own.There was, too, arising within her bosom a struggle to be somethingin the world, an idea that she, too, could say something, and havethoughts of her own, if only she had some friend near her whom sheneed not fear. Though still shy, she was always resolving that shewould abandon her shyness, and already had thoughts of her own as tothe perfectly open confidence which should exist between two lovers.When alone,--and she was much alone,--she would build castles inthe air, which were bright with art and love, rather than with gemsand gold. The books she read, poor though they generally were, leftsomething bright on her imagination. She fancied to herself brilliantconversations in which she bore a bright part, though in real lifeshe had hitherto hardly talked to any one since she was a child. SirFelix Carbury, she knew, had made her an offer. She knew also, orthought that she knew, that she loved the man. And now she was withhim alone! Now surely had come the time in which some one of hercastles in the air might be found to be built of real materials.
"You know why I have come down here?" he said.
"You know why I have come down here?"]
"To see your cousin."
"No, indeed. I'm not particularly fond of my cousin, who is amethodical stiff-necked old bachelor,--as cross as the mischief."
"How disagreeable!"
"Yes; he is disagreeable. I didn't come down to see him, I cantell you. But when I heard that you were going to be here with theLongestaffes, I determined to come at once. I wonder whether you areglad to see me?"
"I don't know," said Marie, who could not at once find thatbrilliancy of words with which her imagination supplied h
er readilyenough in her solitude.
"Do you remember what you said to me that evening at my mother's?"
"Did I say anything? I don't remember anything particular."
"Do you not? Then I fear you can't think very much of me." He pausedas though he supposed that she would drop into his mouth like acherry. "I thought you told me that you would love me."
"Did I?"
"Did you not?"
"I don't know what I said. Perhaps if I said that, I didn't mean it."
"Am I to believe that?"
"Perhaps you didn't mean it yourself."
"By George, I did. I was quite in earnest. There never was a fellowmore in earnest than I was. I've come down here on purpose to say itagain."
"To say what?"
"Whether you'll accept me?"
"I don't know whether you love me well enough." She longed to be toldby him that he loved her. He had no objection to tell her so, but,without thinking much about it, felt it to be a bore. All that kindof thing was trash and twaddle. He desired her to accept him; and hewould have wished, were it possible, that she should have gone to herfather for his consent. There was something in the big eyes and heavyjaws of Mr. Melmotte which he almost feared. "Do you really love mewell enough?" she whispered.
"Of course I do. I'm bad at making pretty speeches, and all that, butyou know I love you."
"Do you?"
"By George, yes. I always liked you from the first moment I saw you.I did indeed."
It was a poor declaration of love, but it sufficed. "Then I will loveyou," she said. "I will with all my heart."
"There's a darling!"
"Shall I be your darling? Indeed I will. I may call you Felixnow;--mayn't I?"
"Rather."
"Oh, Felix, I hope you will love me. I will so dote upon you. Youknow a great many men have asked me to love them."
"I suppose so."
"But I have never, never cared for one of them in the least;--not inthe least."
"You do care for me?"
"Oh yes." She looked up into his beautiful face as she spoke, and hesaw that her eyes were swimming with tears. He thought at the momentthat she was very common to look at. As regarded appearance only hewould have preferred even Sophia Longestaffe. There was indeed acertain brightness of truth which another man might have read inMarie's mingled smiles and tears, but it was thrown away altogetherupon him. They were walking in some shrubbery quite apart from thehouse, where they were unseen; so, as in duty bound, he put his armround her waist and kissed her. "Oh, Felix," she said, giving herface up to him; "no one ever did it before." He did not in the leastbelieve her, nor was the matter one of the slightest importance tohim. "Say that you will be good to me, Felix. I will be so good toyou."
"Of course I will be good to you."
"Men are not always good to their wives. Papa is often very cross tomamma."
"I suppose he can be cross?"
"Yes, he can. He does not often scold me. I don't know what he'll saywhen we tell him about this."
"But I suppose he intends that you shall be married?"
"He wanted me to marry Lord Nidderdale and Lord Grasslough, butI hated them both. I think he wants me to marry Lord Nidderdaleagain now. He hasn't said so, but mamma tells me. But I neverwill;--never!"
"I hope not, Marie."
"You needn't be a bit afraid. I would not do it if they were to killme. I hate him,--and I do so love you." Then she leaned with all herweight upon his arm and looked up again into his beautiful face. "Youwill speak to papa; won't you?"
"Will that be the best way?"
"I suppose so. How else?"
"I don't know whether Madame Melmotte ought not--"
"Oh dear no. Nothing would induce her. She is more afraid of himthan anybody;--more afraid of him than I am. I thought the gentlemanalways did that."
"Of course I'll do it," said Sir Felix. "I'm not afraid of him. Whyshould I? He and I are very good friends, you know."
"I'm glad of that."
"He made me a Director of one of his companies the other day."
"Did he? Perhaps he'll like you for a son-in-law."
"There's no knowing;--is there?"
"I hope he will. I shall like you for papa's son-in-law. I hope itisn't wrong to say that. Oh, Felix, say that you love me." Then sheput her face up towards his again.
"Of course I love you," he said, not thinking it worth his while tokiss her. "It's no good speaking to him here. I suppose I had bettergo and see him in the city."
"He is in a good humour now," said Marie.
"But I couldn't get him alone. It wouldn't be the thing to do downhere."
"Wouldn't it?"
"Not in the country,--in another person's house. Shall you tellMadame Melmotte?"
"Yes, I shall tell mamma; but she won't say anything to him. Mammadoes not care much about me. But I'll tell you all that another time.Of course I shall tell you everything now. I never yet had anybody totell anything to, but I shall never be tired of telling you." Thenhe left her as soon as he could, and escaped to the other ladies. Mr.Melmotte was still sitting in the summer-house, and Lord Alfred wasstill with him, smoking and drinking brandy and seltzer. As Sir Felixpassed in front of the great man he told himself that it was muchbetter that the interview should be postponed till they were all inLondon. Mr. Melmotte did not look as though he were in a good humour.Sir Felix said a few words to Lady Pomona and Madame Melmotte. Yes;he hoped to have the pleasure of seeing them with his mother andsister on the following day. He was aware that his cousin was notcoming. He believed that his cousin Roger never did go any where likeany one else. No; he had not seen Mr. Longestaffe. He hoped to havethe pleasure of seeing him to-morrow. Then he escaped, and got on hishorse, and rode away.
"That's going to be the lucky man," said Georgiana to her mother,that evening.
"In what way lucky?"
"He is going to get the heiress and all the money. What a fool Dollyhas been!"
"I don't think it would have suited Dolly," said Lady Pomona. "Afterall, why should not Dolly marry a lady?"
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