Castle Richmond

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  BEFORE BREAKFAST AT HAP HOUSE.

  It may be imagined that Mr. Mollett's drive back to Cork after hislast visit to Castle Richmond had not been very pleasant; and indeedit may be said that his present circumstances altogether were asunpleasant as his worst enemies could desire. I have endeavoured toexcite the sympathy of those who are going with me through this storyfor the sufferings of that family of the Fitzgeralds; but how shallI succeed in exciting their sympathy for this other family of theMolletts? And yet why not? If we are to sympathise only with thegood, or worse still, only with the graceful, how little will therebe in our character that is better than terrestrial? Those Mollettsalso were human, and had strings to their hearts, at which the worldwould now probably pull with sufficient vigour. For myself I cantruly say that my strongest feeling is for their wretchedness.

  The father and son had more than once boasted among themselves thatthe game they were now playing was a high one; that they were, infact, gambling for mighty stakes. And in truth, as long as themoney came in to them--flowing in as the result of their own craftin this game--the excitement had about it something that was verypleasurable. There was danger, which makes all games pleasant; therewas money in handfuls for daily expenses--those daily wants of theappetite, which are to such men more important by far than thedistant necessities of life; there was a possibility of futuregrandeur, an opening out of magnificent ideas of fortune, whichcharmed them greatly as they thought about it. What might they notdo with forty thousand pounds divided between them, or even with athousand a year each, settled on them for life? and surely theirsecret was worth that money! Nay, was it not palpable to the meanestcalculation that it was worth much more? Had they not the sellingof twelve thousand a year for ever and ever to this family ofFitzgerald?

  But for the last fortnight things had begun to go astray with them.Money easily come by goes easily, and money badly come by goes badly.Theirs had come easily and badly, and had so gone. What necessitycould there be for economy with such a milch-cow as that close totheir elbows? So both of them had thought, if not argued; and therehad been no economy--no economy in the use of that very costlyamusement, the dice-box; and now, at the present moment, ready moneyhaving failed to be the result of either of the two last visits toCastle Richmond, the family funds were running low.

  It may be said that ready money for the moment was the one desirenearest to the heart of Mollett pere, when he took that last journeyover the Boggeragh mountains--ready money wherewith to satisfy thepressing claims of Miss O'Dwyer, and bring back civility, or ratherservility, to the face and manner of Tom the waiter at the KanturkHotel. Very little of that servility can be enjoyed by persons ofthe Mollett class when money ceases to be ready in their hands andpockets, and there is, perhaps, nothing that they enjoy so keenly asservility. Mollett pere had gone down determined that that comfortshould at any rate be forthcoming to him, whatever answer mightbe given to those other grander demands, and we know what successhad attended his mission. He had looked to find his tame milch-cowtrembling in her accustomed stall, and he had found a resolute bullthere in her place--a bull whom he could by no means take by thehorns. He had got no money, and before he had reached Cork he hadbegun to comprehend that it was not probable that he should get morefrom that source.

  During a part of the interview between him and Mr. Prendergast, somespark of mercy towards his victims had glimmered into his heart. Whenit was explained to him that the game was to be given up, that thefamily at Castle Richmond was prepared to acknowledge the truth, andthat the effort made was with the view of proving that the poor ladyup stairs was not entitled to the name she bore rather than that shewas so entitled, then some slight promptings of a better spirit didfor a while tempt him to be merciful. "Oh, what are you about to do?"he would have said had Mr. Prendergast admitted of speech from him."Why make this terrible sacrifice? Matters have not come to that.There is no need for you to drag to the light this terrible fact. Iwill not divulge it--no not although you are hard upon me in regardto these terms of mine. I will still keep it to myself, and trustto you,--to you who are all so rich and able to pay, for whatconsideration you may please to give me." This was the state of hismind when Mrs. Jones's evidence was being slowly evoked from her;but it had undergone a considerable change before he reached Cork.By that time he had taught himself to understand that there was nolonger a chance to him of any consideration whatever. Slowly hehad brought it home to himself that these people had resolutelydetermined to blow up the ground on which they themselves stood. Thishe perceived was their honesty. He did not understand the nature of afeeling which could induce so fatal a suicide, but he did understandthat the feeling was there, and that the suicide would be completed.

  And now what was he to do next in the way of earning hisbread? Various thoughts ran through his brain, and differentresolves--half-formed but still, perhaps, capable of shape--presentedthemselves to him for the future. It was still on the cards--on thecards, but barely so--that he might make money out of these people;but he must wait perhaps for weeks before he again commenced such anattempt. He might perhaps make money out of them, and be merciful tothem at the same time;--not money by thousands and tens of thousands;that golden dream was gone for ever; but still money that might becomfortably luxurious as long as it could be made to last. But thenon one special point he made a firm and final resolution,--whatevernew scheme he might hatch he alone would manage. Never again would hecall into his councils that son of his loins whose rapacious greedhad, as he felt sure, brought upon him all this ruin. Had Aby notgone to Castle Richmond, with his cruelty and his greed, frighteningto the very death the soul of that poor baronet by the enormity ofhis demands, Mr. Prendergast would not have been there. Of whatfurther chance of Castle Richmond pickings there might be Aby shouldknow nothing. He and his son would no longer hunt in couples. Hewould shake him off in that escape which they must both now make fromCork, and he would not care how long it might be before he again sawhis countenance.

  But then that question of ready money; and that other question,perhaps as interesting, touching a criminal prosecution! How was heto escape if he could not raise the wind? And how could he raisethe wind now that his milch-cow had run so dry? He had promised theO'Dwyers money that evening, and had struggled hard to make thatpromise with an easy face. He now had none to give them. His ordersat the inn were treated almost with contempt. For the last three daysthey had given him what he wanted to eat and drink, but would hardlygive him all that he wanted. When he called for brandy they broughthim whisky, and it had only been by hard begging, and by oaths as tothe promised money, that he had induced them to supply him with thecar which had taken him on his fruitless journey to Castle Richmond.As he was driven up to the door in South Main Street, his heart wasvery sad on all these subjects.

  Aby was again sitting within the bar, but was no longer basking inthe sunshine of Fanny's smiles. He was sitting there because Fannyhad not yet mustered courage to turn him out. He was half-drunk, forit had been found impossible to keep spirits from him. And there hadbeen hot words between him and Fanny, in which she had twitted himwith his unpaid bill, and he had twitted her with her former love.And things had gone from bad to worse, and she had all but calledin Tom for aid in getting quit of him; she had, however, refrained,thinking of the money that might be coming, and waiting also till herfather should arrive. Fanny's love for Mr. Abraham Mollett had notbeen long lived.

  I will not describe another scene such as those which had of latebeen frequent in the Kanturk Hotel. The father and the son soon foundthemselves together in the small room in which they now both slept,at the top of the house; and Aby, tipsy as he was, understood thewhole of what had happened at Castle Richmond. When he heard thatMr. Prendergast was seen in that room in lieu of Sir Thomas, he knewat once that the game had been abandoned. "But something may yet bedone at 'Appy 'ouse," Aby said to himself, "only one must be deucedquick."

  The father and the son of course q
uarrelled frightfully, like dogsover the memory of a bone which had been arrested from the jaws ofboth of them. Aby said that his father had lost everything by hispusillanimity, and old Mollett declared that his son had destroyedall by his rashness. But we need not repeat their quarrels, norrepeat all that passed between them and Tom before food wasforthcoming to satisfy the old man's wants. As he ate he calculatedhow much he might probably raise upon his watch towards taking him toLondon, and how best he might get off from Cork without leaving anyscent in the nostrils of his son. His clothes he must leave behindhim at the inn, at least all that he could not pack upon his person.Lately he had made himself comfortable in this respect, and hesorrowed over the fine linen which he had worn but once or twicesince it had been bought with the last instalment from Sir Thomas.Nevertheless in this way he did make up his mind for the morrow'scampaign.

  And Aby also made up his mind. Something at any rate he had learnedfrom Fanny O'Dwyer in return for his honeyed words. When HerbertFitzgerald should cease to be the heir to Castle Richmond, OwenFitzgerald of Hap House would be the happy man. That knowledge washis own in absolute independence of his father, and there might stillbe time for him to use it. He knew well the locality of Hap House,and he would be there early on the following morning. These tidingshad probably not as yet reached the owner of that blessed abode, andif he could be the first to tell him--! The game there too might bepretty enough, if it were played well, by such a master-hand as hisown. Yes; he would be at Hap House early in the morning;--but then,how to get there?

  He left his father preparing for bed, and going down into the barfound Mr. O'Dwyer and his daughter there in close consultation.They were endeavouring to arrive, by their joint wisdom, at someconclusion as to what they should do with their two guests. Fannywas for turning them out at once. "The first loss is the least,"said she. "And they is so disrispectable. I niver know what they'reafther, and always is expecting the p'lice will be down on them."But the father shook his head. He had done nothing wrong; the policecould not hurt him; and thirty pounds, as he told his daughter, withmuch emphasis, was "a deuced sight of money." "The first loss isthe least," said Fanny, perseveringly; and then Aby entered to them.

  "My father has made a mull of this matter again," said he, going atonce into the middle of the subject. "'E 'as come back without ashiner."

  "I'll be bound he has," said Mr. O'Dwyer, sarcastically.

  "And that when 'e'd only got to go two or three miles further, andhall his troubles would have been over."

  "Troubles over, would they?" said Fanny. "I wish he'd have thegoodness to get over his little troubles in this house, by paying usour bill. You'll have to walk if it's not done, and that to-morrow,Mr. Mollett; and so I tell you; and take nothing with you, I can tellyou. Father 'll have the police to see to that."

  "Don't you be so cruel now, Miss Fanny," said Aby, with a leeringlook. "I tell you what it is, Mr. O'Dwyer, I must go down again tothem diggings very early to-morrow, starting, say, at four o'clock."

  "You'll not have a foot out of my stables," said Mr. O'Dwyer. "That'sall."

  "Look here, Mr. O'Dwyer; there's been a sight of money due to us fromthose Fitzgerald people down there. You know 'em; and whether they'rehable to pay or not. I won't deny but what father's 'ad the best ofit,--'ad the best of it, and sent it trolling, bad luck to him. Butthere's no good looking hafter spilt milk; is there?"

  "If so be that Sir Thomas owed the likes of you money, he would havepaid it without your tramping down there time after time to look forit. He's not one of that sort."

  "No, indeed," said Fanny; "and I don't believe anything about yourseeing Sir Thomas."

  "Oh, we've seed him hoften enough. There's no mistake about that. Butnow--" and then, with a mysterious air and low voice, he explainedto them, that this considerable balance of money still due tothem was to be paid by the cousin, "Mr. Owen of Appy 'ouse." Andto substantiate all his story, he exhibited a letter from Mr.Prendergast to his father, which some months since had intimated thata sum of money would be paid on behalf of Sir Thomas Fitzgerald, ifMr. Mollett would call at Mr. Prendergast's office at a certain hour.The ultimate effect of all this was, that the car was granted forthe morning, with certain dire threats as to any further breach ofengagement.

  Very early on the following morning Aby was astir, hoping that hemight manage to complete his not elaborate toilet without disturbinghis father's slumbers. For, it must be known, he had been very urgentwith the O'Dwyers as to the necessity of keeping this journey ofhis a secret from his "governor." But the governor was wide awake,looking at him out of the corner of his closed eye whenever his backwas turned, and not caring much what he was about to do with himself.Mollett pere wished to be left alone for that morning, that he alsomight play his little game in his own solitary fashion, and was notat all disposed to question the movements of his son.

  At about five Aby started for Hap House. His toilet, I have said, wasnot elaborate; but in this I have perhaps wronged him. Up there inthe bed-room he did not waste much time over his soap and water; buthe was aware that first impressions are everything, and that oneyoung man should appear smart and clever before another if he wishedto carry any effect with him; so he took his brush and comb in hispocket, and a pot of grease with which he was wont to polish his longside-locks, and he hurriedly grasped up his pins, and his rings, andthe satin stock which Fanny in her kinder mood had folded for him;and then, during his long journey to Hap House, he did perform atoilet which may, perhaps, be fairly called elaborate.

  There was a long, tortuous, narrow avenue, going from the Mallowand Kanturk road down to Hap House, which impressed Aby with theidea that the man on whom he was now about to call was also a biggentleman, and made him more uneasy than he would have been had heentered a place with less pretence. There is a story current, thatin the west of England the grandeur of middle-aged maiden ladiesis measured by the length of the tail of their cats; and Aby had aperhaps equally correct idea, that the length of the private drive upto a gentleman's house, was a fair criterion of the splendour of hisposition. If this man had about him as much grandeur as Sir Thomashimself, would he be so anxious as Aby had hoped to obtain theadditional grandeur of Sir Thomas? It was in that direction that hismind was operating when he got down from the car and rang at thedoor-bell.

  Mr. Owen, as everybody called him, was at home, but not down; andso Aby was shown into the dining-room. It was now considerably pastnine; and the servant told him that his master must be there soon, ashe had to eat his breakfast and be at the hunt by eleven. The servantat Hap House was more unsophisticated than those at Castle Richmond,and Aby's personal adornments had had their effect. He found himselfsitting in the room with the cups and saucers,--aye, and with thesilver tea-spoons; and began again to trust that his mission might besuccessful.

  And then the door opened, and a man appeared, clad from top to toe inhunting costume. This was not Owen Fitzgerald, but his friend CaptainDonnellan. As it had happened, Captain Donnellan was the only guestwho had graced the festivities of Hap House on the previous evening;and now he appeared at the breakfast table before his host. Aby gotup from his chair when the gentleman entered, and was proceeding tobusiness; but the Captain gave him to understand that the master ofthe house was not yet in presence, and so Aby sat down again. Whatwas he to do when the master did arrive? His story was not one whichwould well bear telling before a third person.

  And then, while Captain Donnellan was scanning this visitor tohis friend Owen, and bethinking himself whether he might not be asheriff's officer, and whether if so some notice ought not to beconveyed up stairs to the master of the house, another car was drivenup to the front door. In this case the arrival was from CastleRichmond, and the two servants knew each other well. "Thady," saidRichard, with much authority in his voice, "this gentl'man is Mr.Prendergast from our place, and he must see the masther before hegoes to the hunt." "Faix and the masther 'll have something to dothis blessed morning," said Thady, as he showed Mr. Pren
dergast alsointo the dining-room, and went up stairs to inform his master thatthere was yet another gentleman come upon business. "The Captain hasgot 'em both to hisself," said Thady, as he closed the door.

  The name of Mr. "Pendhrergrast," as the Irish servants generallycalled him, was quite unknown to the owner of Hap House, as was alsothat of Mr. Mollett, which had been brought up to him the first ofthe two; but Owen began to think that there must be something veryunusual in a day so singularly ushered in to him. Callers at HapHouse on business were very few, unless when tradesmen in want ofmoney occasionally dropped in upon him. But now that he was sosummoned Owen began to bestir himself with his boots and breeches.A gentleman's costume for a hunting morning is always a slowone--sometimes so slow and tedious as to make him think offorswearing such articles of dress for all future ages. But now hedid bestir himself,--in a moody melancholy sort of manner; for hismanner in all things latterly had become moody and melancholy.

  In the mean time Captain Donnellan and the two strangers sat almostin silence in the dining-room. The Captain, though he did not perhapsknow much of things noticeable in this world, did know something ofa gentleman, and was therefore not led away, as poor Thady had been,by Aby's hat and rings. He had stared Aby full in the face when heentered the room, and having explained that he was not the masterof the house, had not vouchsafed another word. But then he had alsoseen that Mr. Prendergast was of a different class, and had said acivil word or two, asking him to come near the fire, and suggestingthat Owen would be down in less than five minutes. "But the old cockwouldn't crow," as he afterwards remarked to his friend, and so theyall three sat in silence, the Captain being very busy about hisknees, as hunting gentlemen sometimes are when they come down tobachelor breakfasts.

  And then at last Owen Fitzgerald entered the room. He has beendescribed as a handsome man, but in no dress did he look so well aswhen equipped for a day's sport. And what dress that Englishmen everwear is so handsome as this? Or we may perhaps say what other dressdoes English custom allow them that is in any respect not the reverseof handsome. We have come to be so dingy,--in our taste I was goingto say, but it is rather in our want of taste,--so careless of any ofthe laws of beauty in the folds and lines and hues of our dress, soopposed to grace in the arrangement of our persons, that it is notpermitted to the ordinary English gentleman to be anything else butugly. Chimney-pot hats, swallow-tailed coats, and pantaloons that fitnothing, came creeping in upon us, one after the other, while theGeorges reigned--creeping in upon us with such pictures as we paintedunder the reign of West, and such houses as we built under the reignof Nash, till the English eye required to rest on that which wasconstrained, dull, and graceless. For the last two score of yearsit has come to this, that if a man go in handsome attire he is apopinjay and a vain fool; and as it is better to be ugly than to beaccounted vain I would not counsel a young friend to leave the beatentrack on the strength of his own judgment. But not the less is thebeaten track to be condemned, and abandoned, and abolished, if suchbe in any way possible. Beauty is good in all things; and I cannotbut think that those old Venetian senators, and Florentine men ofCouncil, owed somewhat of their country's pride and power to themanner in which they clipped their beards and wore their flowinggarments.

  But an Englishman may still make himself brave when he goes forthinto the hunting field. Custom there allows him colour, and garmentsthat fit his limbs. Strength is the outward characteristic ofmanhood, and at the covert-side he may appear strong. Look at men asthey walk along Fleet-street, and ask yourself whether any outwardsign of manhood or strength can be seen there. And of gentle manhoodoutward dignity should be the trade mark. I will not say that suchoutward dignity is incompatible with a black hat and plaid trousers,for the eye instructed by habit will search out dignity for itselfwherever it may truly exist, let it be hidden by what vile coveringit may. But any man who can look well at his club, will look betteras he clusters round the hounds; while many a one who is comelythere, is mean enough as he stands on the hearth-rug before his clubfire. In my mind men, like churches and books, and women too, shouldbe brave, not mean, in their outward garniture.

  And Owen, as I have said, was brave as he walked into hisdining-room. The sorrow which weighed on his heart had not wrinkledhis brow, but had given him a set dignity of purpose. His tallfigure, which his present dress allowed to be seen, was perfect inits symmetry of strength. His bright chestnut hair clustered roundhis forehead, and his eye shone like that of a hawk. They must havebeen wrong who said that he commonly spent his nights over thewine-cup. That pleasure always leaves its disgusting traces round thelips; and Owen Fitzgerald's lips were as full and lusty as Apollo's.Mollett, as he saw him, was stricken with envy. "If I could only getenough money out of this affair to look like that," was his firstthought, as his eye fell on the future heir; not understanding, poorwretch that he was, that all the gold of California could not bringhim one inch nearer to the goal he aimed at. I think I have saidbefore, that your silk purse will not get itself made out of thatcoarse material with which there are so many attempts to manufacturethat article. And Mr. Prendergast rose from his chair when he sawhim, with a respect that was almost involuntary. He had not heardmen speak well of Owen Fitzgerald;--not that ill-natured things hadbeen said by the family at Castle Richmond, but circumstances hadprevented the possibility of their praising him. If a relative orfriend be spoken of without praise, he is, in fact, censured. Fromwhat he had heard he had certainly not expected a man who would lookso noble as did the owner of Hap House, who now came forward to askhim his business.

  Both Mr. Prendergast and Aby Mollett rose at the same time. Since thearrival of the latter gentleman, Aby had been wondering who he mightbe, but no idea that he was that lawyer from Castle Richmond hadentered his head. That he was a stranger like himself, Aby saw; buthe did not connect him with his own business. Indeed he had notyet realized the belief, though his father had done so, that thetruth would be revealed by those at Castle Richmond to him at HapHouse. His object now was that the old gentleman should say his sayand begone, leaving him to dispose of the other young man in thetop-boots as best he might. But then, as it happened, that was alsoMr. Prendergast's line of action.

  "Gentlemen," said Owen, "I beg your pardon for keeping you waiting;but the fact is that I am so seldom honoured in this way in amorning, that I was hardly ready. Donnellan, there's the tea; don'tmind waiting. These gentlemen will perhaps join us." And then helooked hard at Aby, as though he trusted in Providence that no suchprofanation would be done to his table-cloth.

  "Thank you, I have breakfasted," said Mr. Prendergast.

  "And so 'ave I," said Aby, who had eaten a penny loaf in the car, andwould have been delighted to sit down at that rich table. But he wasa little beside himself, and not able to pluck up courage for such aneffort.

  "I don't know whether you two gentlemen have come about the samebusiness," said Owen, looking from one to the other.

  "No," said Mr. Prendergast, very confidently, but not very correctly."I wish to speak to you, Mr. Fitzgerald, for a few minutes: but mybusiness with you is quite private."

  "So is mine," said Aby, "very private; very private indeed."

  "Well, gentlemen, I have just half an hour in which to eat mybreakfast, attend to business, get on my horse and leave the house.Out of that twenty-five minutes are very much at your service.Donnellan, I beg your pardon. Do pitch into the broiled bones whilethey are hot; never mind me. And now, gentlemen, if you will walkwith me into the other room. First come first served: that I supposeshould be the order." And he opened the door and stood with it ajarin his hand.

  "I will wait, Mr. Fitzgerald, if you please," said Mr. Prendergast;and as he spoke he motioned Mollett with his hand to go to the door.

  "Oh! I can wait, sir; I'd rather wait, sir. I would indeed," saidAby. "My business is a little particular; and if you'll go on, sir,I'll take up with the gen'leman as soon as you've done, sir."

  But Mr. Prendergast was accustomed to have
his own way. "I shouldprefer that you should go first, sir. And to tell the truth, Mr.Fitzgerald, what I have to say to you will take some time. It is ofmuch importance, to yourself and to others; and I fear that you willprobably find that it will detain you from your amusement to-day."

  Owen looked black as he heard this. The hounds were going to drawa covert of his own; and he was not in the habit of remaining awayfrom the drawing of any coverts, belonging to himself or others,on any provocation whatever. "That will be rather hard," said he,"considering that I do not know any more than the man in the moonwhat you've come about."

  "You shall be the sole judge yourself, sir, of the importance of mybusiness with you," said Mr. Prendergast.

  "Well, Mr.-- I forget your name," said Owen.

  "My name's Mollett," said Aby. Whereupon Mr. Prendergast looked upat him very sharply, but he said nothing.--He said nothing, buthe looked very sharply indeed. He now knew well who this man was,and guessed with tolerable accuracy the cause of his visit. But,nevertheless, at the moment he said nothing.

  "Come along, then, Mr. Mollett. I hope your affair is not likely tobe a very long one also. Perhaps you'll excuse my having a cup of teasent in to me as you talk to me. There is nothing like saving timewhen such very important business is on the tapis. Donnellan, sendThady in with a cup of tea, like a good fellow. Now, Mr. Mollett."

  Mr. Mollett rose slowly from his chair, and followed his host. Hewould have given all he possessed in the world, and that was verylittle, to have had the coast clear. But in such an emergency,what was he to do? By the time he had reached the door of thedrawing-room, he had all but made up his mind to tell Fitzgeraldthat, seeing there was so much other business on hand this morning atHap House, this special piece of business of his must stand over. Butthen, how could he go back to Cork empty-handed? So he followed Oweninto the room, and there opened his budget with what courage he hadleft to him.

  Captain Donnellan, as he employed himself on the broiled bones,twice invited Mr. Prendergast to assist him; but in vain. Donnellanremained there, waiting for Owen, till eleven; and then got on hishorse. "You'll tell Fitzgerald, will you, that I've started? He'llsee nothing of to-day's hunt; that's clear."

  "I don't think he will," said Mr. Prendergast.