CHAPTER XXXII.
LADY MONOGRAM.
Georgiana Longestaffe had now been staying with the Melmottes fora fortnight, and her prospects in regard to the London season hadnot much improved. Her brother had troubled her no further, and herfamily at Caversham had not, as far as she was aware, taken anynotice of Dolly's interference. Twice a week she received a cold,dull letter from her mother,--such letters as she had been accustomedto receive when away from home; and these she had answered, alwaysendeavouring to fill her sheet with some customary description offashionable doings, with some bit of scandal such as she would haverepeated for her mother's amusement,--and her own delectation in thetelling of it,--had there been nothing painful in the nature of hersojourn in London. Of the Melmottes she hardly spoke. She did notsay that she was taken to the houses in which it was her ambition tobe seen. She would have lied directly in saying so. But she did notannounce her own disappointment. She had chosen to come up to theMelmottes in preference to remaining at Caversham, and she would notdeclare her own failure. "I hope they are kind to you," Lady Pomonaalways said. But Georgiana did not tell her mother whether theMelmottes were kind or unkind.
In truth, her "season" was a very unpleasant season. Her mode ofliving was altogether different to anything she had already known.The house in Bruton Street had never been very bright, but theappendages of life there had been of a sort which was not known inthe gorgeous mansion in Grosvenor Square. It had been full of booksand little toys and those thousand trifling household gods which areaccumulated in years, and which in their accumulation suit themselvesto the taste of their owners. In Grosvenor Square there were noLares;--no toys, no books, nothing but gold and grandeur, pomatum,powder and pride. The Longestaffe life had not been an easy, natural,or intellectual life; but the Melmotte life was hardly endurable evenby a Longestaffe. She had, however, come prepared to suffer much,and was endowed with considerable power of endurance in pursuit ofher own objects. Having willed to come, even to the Melmottes, inpreference to remaining at Caversham, she fortified herself to suffermuch. Could she have ridden in the park at mid-day in desirablecompany, and found herself in proper houses at midnight, she wouldhave borne the rest, bad as it might have been. But it was notso. She had her horse, but could with difficulty get any propercompanion. She had been in the habit of riding with one of thePrimero girls,--and old Primero would accompany them, or perhaps abrother Primero, or occasionally her own father. And then, when onceout, she would be surrounded by a cloud of young men,--and thoughthere was but little in it, a walking round and round the same bitof ground with the same companions and with the smallest attempt atconversation, still it had been the proper thing and had satisfiedher. Now it was with difficulty that she could get any cavaliersuch as the laws of society demand. Even Penelope Primero snubbedher,--whom she, Georgiana Longestaffe, had hitherto endured andsnubbed. She was just allowed to join them when old Primero rode, andwas obliged even to ask for that assistance.
But the nights were still worse. She could only go where MadameMelmotte went, and Madame Melmotte was more prone to receivepeople at home than to go out. And the people she did receive wereantipathetic to Miss Longestaffe. She did not even know who theywere, whence they came, or what was their nature. They seemed tobe as little akin to her as would have been the shopkeepers in thesmall town near Caversham. She would sit through long evenings almostspeechless, trying to fathom the depth of the vulgarity of herassociates. Occasionally she was taken out, and was then, probably,taken to very grand houses. The two duchesses and the Marchionessof Auld Reekie received Madame Melmotte, and the garden parties ofroyalty were open to her. And some of the most elaborate fetes ofthe season,--which indeed were very elaborate on behalf of this andthat travelling potentate,--were attained. On these occasions MissLongestaffe was fully aware of the struggle that was always made forinvitations, often unsuccessfully, but sometimes with triumph. Eventhe bargains, conducted by the hands of Lord Alfred and his mightysister, were not altogether hidden from her. The Emperor of China wasto be in London and it was thought proper that some private person,some untitled individual, should give the Emperor a dinner, so thatthe Emperor might see how an English merchant lives. Mr. Melmotte waschosen on condition that he would spend L10,000 on the banquet;--and,as a part of his payment for this expenditure, was to be admittedwith his family, to a grand entertainment given to the Emperor atWindsor Park. Of these good things Georgiana Longestaffe wouldreceive her share. But she went to them as a Melmotte and not as aLongestaffe,--and when amidst these gaieties, though she could seeher old friends, she was not with them. She was ever behind MadameMelmotte, till she hated the make of that lady's garments and theshape of that lady's back.
She had told both her father and mother very plainly that it behovedher to be in London at this time of the year that she might--look fora husband. She had not hesitated in declaring her purpose; and thatpurpose, together with the means of carrying it out, had not appearedto them to be unreasonable. She wanted to be settled in life. She hadmeant, when she first started on her career, to have a lord;--butlords are scarce. She was herself not very highly born, not veryhighly gifted, not very lovely, not very pleasant, and she had nofortune. She had long made up her mind that she could do without alord, but that she must get a commoner of the proper sort. He mustbe a man with a place in the country and sufficient means to bringhim annually to London. He must be a gentleman,--and, probably,in parliament. And above all things he must be in the right set.She would rather go on for ever struggling than take some countryWhitstable as her sister was about to do. But now the men of theright sort never came near her. The one object for which she hadsubjected herself to all this ignominy seemed to have vanishedaltogether in the distance. When by chance she danced or exchanged afew words with the Nidderdales and Grassloughs whom she used to know,they spoke to her with a want of respect which she felt and tastedbut could hardly analyse. Even Miles Grendall, who had hithertobeen below her notice, attempted to patronise her in a manner thatbewildered her. All this nearly broke her heart.
And then from time to time little rumours reached her ears which madeher aware that, in the teeth of all Mr. Melmotte's social successes,a general opinion that he was a gigantic swindler was rather gainingground than otherwise. "Your host is a wonderful fellow, by George!"said Lord Nidderdale. "No one seems to know which way he'll turn upat last." "There's nothing like being a robber, if you can only robenough," said Lord Grasslough,--not exactly naming Melmotte, butvery clearly alluding to him. There was a vacancy for a member ofparliament at Westminster, and Melmotte was about to come forwardas a candidate. "If he can manage that I think he'll pull through,"she heard one man say. "If money'll do it, it will be done," saidanother. She could understand it all. Mr. Melmotte was admitted intosociety, because of some enormous power which was supposed to lie inhis hands; but even by those who thus admitted him he was regardedas a thief and a scoundrel. This was the man whose house had beenselected by her father in order that she might make her search for ahusband from beneath his wing!
In her agony she wrote to her old friend Julia Triplex, now the wifeof Sir Damask Monogram. She had been really intimate with JuliaTriplex, and had been sympathetic when a brilliant marriage had beenachieved. Julia had been without fortune, but very pretty. Sir Damaskwas a man of great wealth, whose father had been a contractor. ButSir Damask himself was a sportsman, keeping many horses on whichother men often rode, a yacht in which other men sunned themselves, adeer forest, a moor, a large machinery for making pheasants. He shotpigeons at Hurlingham, drove four-in-hand in the park, had a box atevery race-course, and was the most good-natured fellow known. He hadreally conquered the world, had got over the difficulty of being thegrandson of a butcher, and was now as good as though the Monogramshad gone to the crusades. Julia Triplex was equal to her position,and made the very most of it. She dispensed champagne and smiles, andmade everybody, including herself, believe that she was in love withher husband. Lady Monogram had climbed to the
top of the tree, andin that position had been, of course, invaluable to her old friend.We must give her her due and say that she had been fairly trueto friendship while Georgiana--behaved herself. She thought thatGeorgiana in going to the Melmottes had--not behaved herself, andtherefore she had determined to drop Georgiana. "Heartless, false,purse-proud creature," Georgiana said to herself as she wrote thefollowing letter in humiliating agony.
DEAR LADY MONOGRAM,
I think you hardly understand my position. Of course you have cut me. Haven't you? And of course I must feel it very much. You did not use to be ill-natured, and I hardly think you can have become so now when you have everything pleasant around you. I do not think that I have done anything that should make an old friend treat me in this way, and therefore I write to ask you to let me see you. Of course it is because I am staying here. You know me well enough to be sure that it can't be my own choice. Papa arranged it all. If there is anything against these people, I suppose papa does not know it. Of course they are not nice. Of course they are not like anything that I have been used to. But when papa told me that the house in Bruton Street was to be shut up and that I was to come here, of course I did as I was bid. I don't think an old friend like you, whom I have always liked more than anybody else, ought to cut me for it. It's not about the parties, but about yourself that I mind. I don't ask you to come here, but if you will see me I can have the carriage and will go to you.
Yours, as ever,
GEORGIANA LONGESTAFFE.
It was a troublesome letter to get written. Lady Monogram washer junior in age and had once been lower than herself in socialposition. In the early days of their friendship she had sometimesdomineered over Julia Triplex, and had been entreated by Julia, inreference to balls here and routes there. The great Monogram marriagehad been accomplished very suddenly, and had taken place,--exaltingJulia very high,--just as Georgiana was beginning to allow heraspirations to descend. It was in that very season that she movedher castle in the air from the Upper to the Lower House. And now shewas absolutely begging for notice, and praying that she might not becut! She sent her letter by post and on the following day received areply, which was left by a footman.
DEAR GEORGIANA,
Of course I shall be delighted to see you. I don't know what you mean by cutting. I never cut anybody. We happen to have got into different sets, but that is not my fault. Sir Damask won't let me call on the Melmottes. I can't help that. You wouldn't have me go where he tells me not. I don't know anything about them myself, except that I did go to their ball. But everybody knows that's different. I shall be at home all to-morrow till three,--that is to-day I mean, for I'm writing after coming home from Lady Killarney's ball; but if you wish to see me alone you had better come before lunch.
Yours affectionately,
J. MONOGRAM.
Georgiana condescended to borrow the carriage and reached herfriend's house a little after noon. The two ladies kissed each otherwhen they met--of course, and then Miss Longestaffe at once began."Julia, I did think that you would at any rate have asked me to yoursecond ball."
"Of course you would have been asked if you had been up in BrutonStreet. You know that as well as I do. It would have been a matter ofcourse."
"What difference does a house make?"
"But the people in a house make a great deal of difference, my dear.I don't want to quarrel with you, my dear; but I can't know theMelmottes."
"Who asks you?"
"You are with them."
"Do you mean to say that you can't ask anybody to your house withoutasking everybody that lives with that person? It's done every day."
"Somebody must have brought you."
"I would have come with the Primeros, Julia."
"I couldn't do it. I asked Damask and he wouldn't have it. When thatgreat affair was going on in February, we didn't know much about thepeople. I was told that everybody was going and therefore I got SirDamask to let me go. He says now that he won't let me know them; andafter having been at their house I can't ask you out of it, withoutasking them too."
"I don't see it at all, Julia."
"I'm very sorry, my dear, but I can't go against my husband."
"Everybody goes to their house," said Georgiana, pleading her causeto the best of her ability. "The Duchess of Stevenage has dined inGrosvenor Square since I have been there."
"We all know what that means," replied Lady Monogram.
"And people are giving their eyes to be asked to the dinner partywhich he is to give to the Emperor in July;--and even to thereception afterwards."
"To hear you talk, Georgiana, one would think that you didn'tunderstand anything," said Lady Monogram. "People are going to seethe Emperor, not to see the Melmottes. I dare say we might havegone,--only I suppose we shan't now because of this row."
"I don't know what you mean by a row, Julia."
"Well;--it is a row, and I hate rows. Going there when the Emperorof China is there, or anything of that kind, is no more than goingto the play. Somebody chooses to get all London into his house, andall London chooses to go. But it isn't understood that that meansacquaintance. I should meet Madame Melmotte in the park afterwardsand not think of bowing to her."
"I should call that rude."
"Very well. Then we differ. But really it does seem to me that youought to understand these things as well as anybody. I don't find anyfault with you for going to the Melmottes,--though I was very sorryto hear it; but when you have done it, I don't think you shouldcomplain of people because they won't have the Melmottes crammed downtheir throats."
"Nobody has wanted it," said Georgiana sobbing. At this momentthe door was opened, and Sir Damask came in. "I'm talking to yourwife about the Melmottes," she continued, determined to take thebull by the horns. "I'm staying there, and--I think it--unkind thatJulia--hasn't been--to see me. That's all."
"How'd you do, Miss Longestaffe? She doesn't know them." And SirDamask, folding his hands together, raising his eyebrows, andstanding on the rug, looked as though he had solved the wholedifficulty.
Sir Damask solving the difficulty.]
"She knows me, Sir Damask."
"Oh yes;--she knows you. That's a matter of course. We're delightedto see you, Miss Longestaffe--I am, always. Wish we could have hadyou at Ascot. But--." Then he looked as though he had again explainedeverything.
"I've told her that you don't want me to go to the Melmottes," saidLady Monogram.
"Well, no;--not just to go there. Stay and have lunch, MissLongestaffe."
"No, thank you."
"Now you're here, you'd better," said Lady Monogram.
"No, thank you. I'm sorry that I have not been able to make youunderstand me. I could not allow our very long friendship to bedropped without a word."
"Don't say--dropped," exclaimed the baronet.
"I do say dropped, Sir Damask. I thought we should have understoodeach other;--your wife and I. But we haven't. Wherever she might havegone, I should have made it my business to see her; but she feelsdifferently. Good-bye."
"Good-bye, my dear. If you will quarrel, it isn't my doing." Then SirDamask led Miss Longestaffe out, and put her into Madame Melmotte'scarriage. "It's the most absurd thing I ever knew in my life," saidthe wife as soon as her husband had returned to her. "She hasn'tbeen able to bear to remain down in the country for one season, whenall the world knows that her father can't afford to have a housefor them in town. Then she condescends to come and stay with theseabominations and pretends to feel surprised that her old friendsdon't run after her. She is old enough to have known better."
"I suppose she likes parties," said Sir Damask.
"Likes parties! She'd like to get somebody to take her. It's twelveyears now since Georgiana Longestaffe came out. I remember being toldof the time when I was first entered myself. Yes, my dear, you knowall about it, I dare say. And there she is still. I can feel for her,and do feel for her. Bu
t if she will let herself down in that way shecan't expect not to be dropped. You remember the woman;--don't you?"
"What woman?"
"Madame Melmotte?"
"Never saw her in my life."
"Oh yes, you did. You took me there that night when Prince ----danced with the girl. Don't you remember the blowsy fat woman at thetop of the stairs;--a regular horror?"
"Didn't look at her. I was only thinking what a lot of money it allcost."
"I remember her, and if Georgiana Longestaffe thinks I'm goingthere to make an acquaintance with Madame Melmotte she is very muchmistaken. And if she thinks that that is the way to get married, Ithink she is mistaken again." Nothing perhaps is so efficacious inpreventing men from marrying as the tone in which married women speakof the struggles made in that direction by their unmarried friends.
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