Court Royal/Chapter XLI
CHAPTER XLI.
AN ENTANGLEMENT.
When Charles Cheek came next evening to see his father, he found the old man in a condition of excitement such as made his heart sink, and despair of extracting money from him. He came at his father’s dinner time, knowing the impossibility of getting a conversation with him during business hours.
‘Are you unwell, father?’ he asked, when he observed the perturbed condition of the old man.
‘Unwell? Cause to be so.’
‘What is the matter with you?’
‘Matter? Everything.’
‘Any annoyance lately?’
’Annoyance? Ugh!’
What was it that troubled the old man? During dinner he would hardly speak. His pasty face exuded a gloss. He growled, and cast furtive glances at his son, which Charles caught, and was unable to interpret.
‘Was Mr. Worthivale here yesterday, governor?’
‘Worthivale? Yes. Has a son, never gave him an hour’s uneasiness. Came crowing and flapping here because he has a good son.’
‘Do you mean, father, that—that’
‘That—that! Yes. Ugh!’
It was impossible to extract anything from the old man during the meal. Charles put on a gay manner, and talked of the weather, of politics, of the regiments ordered abroad, of the depression, of the gossip of society, the improvements effected in torpedoes, Devonshire cream, the Prince of Wales, butterine, Nihilism, Robert Browning, anything, everything that came into his head, but without provoking his father to take part in the conversation.
As soon, however, as the dessert was on the table—the same dessert as the day before—the father drew the dish of raisins and almonds over to himself, waved the servants to withdraw, and burst forth with, ‘So—so—clapping the cross on top of St. Paul’s! brought your folly to a climax at last. Ugh!’
‘What have I done?’ asked Charles, as his spirit quaked at his father’s anger, and his consciousness of having deserved it. ‘I know I am not as clever as you are, governor, but—you have put matters more forcibly than pleasantly.’
‘What have you done? Look at this! Ugh!’
The old man flung a note across the table at him, then made a grab at the almonds, filled his hand, and began to eat them ravenously.
Charles took a letter out of the envelope, unfolded it leisurely, and proceeded to read. He expected to find that his tailor or wine merchant had appealed to his father for payment of a long-standing account. What he saw made the colour rush to his face, and turn him scarlet to the roots of his hair. He glanced up, and saw that his father had riveted his dark piercing eyes on him, whilst he ate savagely almond after almond. The letter was as follows:—
‘Honoured and monokeratic Sir,—I take my pen in hand, hoping that this finds you as it leaves me. Sir, I feel that I can have no peace of mind till I make you acquainted with our engagement, that is, the engagement of me and Charlie, and ask your blessing on our approaching union. When Charlie told me he wished I was his wife, you might have knocked me down with a feather, I was that taken aback. I could do no other than give consent, seeing he had behaved so handsome to
me, in giving me a necklace of pearls and a beautiful rose-coloured silk gown (which, I am grieved to say, through no fault of mine, has since been injured by Ems water). Charlie and I have been cabineted together, holding hands as agreed and acknowledged lovers, and we only await your blessing, honoured and monokeratic sir, to become the happiest of couples. Charlie has gone up to town to break the news to you, and to solicit your approval. He will tell you of our long attachment, and assure you of my best intentions to love and honour you as a daughter, the which (in prospective) I beg to subscribe myself,
‘C/o Mr. Lazarus,
‘The Golden Balls,
‘Barbican.
‘P.S.—I will send you our united cabinet as soon as the proof comes, which I trust will be to-morrow.’
Charles Cheek’s first sensation was amazement; then he felt disposed to laugh. The letter was so droll, so impertinent, and so inferior in style to what he expected from Joe. But all inclination to laugh was taken from him by his father’s countenance. The old man was simmering with anger and apprehension.
‘Thought so!’ burst forth Mr. Cheek as he stretched his arms so suddenly and violently as to knock over one of the wine-glasses. ‘I always feared it would come to this. I hoped against hope. I did trust you would be preserved by Providence from plunging into such an abyss of imbecility.’
‘My dear father, you take this too seriously.’
‘Take it too seriously!’ echoed the old man. ‘What is more serious than marriage!’
‘But, my dear governor!’
‘Don’t governor me. I’m your father, I presume, though God forgive me for begetting such an ass.’
The young man was hurt and incensed. His father loved him, but he was rough with him, and had no self-restraint when angered. He spoke coarsely, brutally, all the coarse and brutal things that came off his heart, which is never done by those who have been put through the mill of culture.
How much the old man loved him, how proud he was of him in spite of his weakness, in spite of the disappointment his pride had encountered, this Charles did not know. Mr. Cheek made no show of affection; or he showed it by licking his cub with a very rough tongue, so rough as to flay him.
‘Well!’ shouted the old man, ‘well!’
‘The letter is preposterous,’ said Charlie, sulkily.
‘Preposterous! What I find preposterous is not the letter, but the conduct that provoked the letter.’
‘It is not true—it is a hoax,’ said the young man.
‘Not true!’ repeated the old man. He had eaten all the almonds; now he took a bunch of raisins, put it in his mouth, and passionately tore off the fruit with one nip of his teeth, and put the spray on his plate. When he had gulped down the raisins he said, ‘Not true! oh no. Cap imbecility with falsehood. Now deny everything. I thought I had a son who was a fool; don’t convince me that he is a liar and a coward as well.’
The young man stood up. He turned pale. ‘You are my father,’ he said, ‘and have some privilege of language; but this exceeds what I will endure. I had rather break stones on the road than submit to such insults.’
‘Rejoice to see you break stones—do any useful work. At present breaking your father’s heart.’
The old man’s voice shook.
Charles was moved. ‘My dear father,’ he said, ‘let me explain.’
‘Explain! What can you explain?’
‘The letter is not serious.’
‘Reads deuced like a serious letter.’ Mr. Cheek had no sense of humour. What touched his son as comical in the epistle appeared to him sober earnestness. ‘Answer me a few plain questions, Charles; set my mind at rest, or confirm my worst anticipations. Give me the letter.’
The old tradesman took the note and spread it before him, then deliberately put on his spectacles and read the letter over to himself, marking the points with his silver dessert knife.
‘Who is Joanna Rosevere?’
‘She is a girl I got to know something about; a nice enough sort of a girl, with plenty of brains’
‘That will do. I asked who was Joanna Rosevere. You say a girl. Enough. Now I know she is not a widow. I want none of your lover’s raptures.’
‘I am not aware that there were any raptures.’
‘That will do. I require answers short and to the point. Now, further, is it true that you gave her a pearl necklace and a rose-coloured silk dress?’
‘Yes, I did; the pearls were Roman, and the dress’
‘That will do. You gave this girl a necklace of Roman pearls and a rose-coloured silk gown. Did you further have yourself photographed—I beg pardon, cabineted—hand-in-hand with her?’
‘Yes, father. The fact is that—that’ Then the recollection of the snail and the bet rushed on his mind, he blushed and did not finish his sentence.
‘Very well—or rather, very ill. You were photographed—to be exact, cabineted with the girl, hand-in-hand; I presume I take her right, she don’t swear you were closeted with her.’
‘Well, I was taken with her. I thought’
‘Never mind what you thought. I want facts, not fancies. Hand-in-hand, cabinet size. I want to know further, did you, as she says, tell her you wished her to be your wife?’
‘It came about like this. The other evening when I was there’
‘I am not asking the time of day, nor the circumstances. I only ask, is this a fact?’
‘I did say that I wished it were possible for me to make her Mrs. Charles Cheek, or words to that effect. I don’t recollect the exact expression.’
‘Very well. You asked her to be Mrs. Charles Cheek, but the exact words in which you couched your proposal you do not recollect.’
‘It was not a proposal.’
‘Not a proposal!’ repeated the father. ‘Then what am I to conclude from the present of the necklace of Roman pearls and the rose-coloured silk dress, and the cabinet-sized photograph of yourselves clasping each other’s hands? Will you illumine my mind, and tell me, do young gentlemen and young women get carted, and closeted, and cabineted, hand-in-hand, unless engaged?’
‘There is no engagement,’ protested Charles, bewildered and angry.
‘No engagement! You dare to say that. Don’t repeat it, as you desire to retain a particle of my regard. I ask, further, what is this Joanna? I know she is a girl. In what capacity is she at the Golden Balls with Mr. Lazarus, whom I happen to know?’
‘She is maid of all work to the old Jew pawnbroker,’ answered the young man, driven to desperation, and regardless what he admitted.
‘Maid of all work to a Jew pawnbroker,’ repeated his father. ‘I ask besides, whence comes she? Is she a Jewess?’
‘No, she is not.’
‘Whence comes she?’
‘Picked out of the mud, and pawned for ten shillings,’ exclaimed Charles Cheek in a paroxysm of exasperation.
‘Picked out of the mud. What mud?’
‘The mud of Sutton Pool.’
‘Pawned for ten shillings. By whom?’
‘By her mother.’
‘And this is the creature you are going to take to you as wife!’ exclaimed the old man, with repressed anger, his face livid and syrupy with emotion. ‘With a creature such as this you will squander my hard-earned wealth!’
‘I tell you, father, it is a hoax.’
‘Don’t tell me that.’ Mr. Cheek brought his great fist down on the table with a crash that made the decanters leap and the glasses spin. ‘Now, sir, do you mean to marry her? If you do, I cast you off utterly and for ever.’
‘No, I don’t want to do that. I tell you the letter is a hoax. Read it—you can see by the style that it is.’
‘I have read it. I can see as well as you. I am not to be hoodwinked, and to be told that red is green, and the moon is cheese, and believe it. I have listened patiently to your explanation. You have so compromised yourself with this girl, on your own admission, that if you fail, you render yourself actionable for breach of promise.’
‘There was no promise,’ persisted the young man.
‘Is a jury likely to believe that, when they have heard of the pearls and the rose silk, and seen the billing and cooing doves in the cabinet? I tell you they will assess the damages at a thousand pounds.’
‘There was no agreement. It is a mistake. I can’t think what Joanna was at writing such a letter.’
‘Do you want to marry her?’ asked his father.
‘No, of course not. I never did. I only said something about making her Mrs. Charles Cheek in joke.’
‘The joke is likely to be expensive pleasantry. But it was no joke. You neither of you regarded it as joke, or you would not have been photographed together. Now you come to me to get you out of this predicament. I won’t have the scandal of a case of breach of promise in the papers. It might affect my business. We must come to an accommodation. How old is the girl?’
‘Seventeen or eighteen.’
‘Has she relations to advise her?’
‘Not one.’
‘There is, however, that fox, Lazarus.’
‘She will never consult him.’
‘What will she take to let you off? I dare say if I go down with a hundred pounds in my pocket, and offer it her with one hand, and a written renunciation of you in the other, before she has had time to consider and ask advice, she will sign, and set you free.’ He looked questioningly at his son.
A change had come over Charles’s face. A light had sprung up before him. He leaned back in his chair, and burst into a fit of laughter.
‘It is no laughing matter,’ said the elder Cheek, grimly. ‘This may cost us a thousand. Juries estimate damages by the income of the father-in-law. Deuced lucky you will be if I can clear you for a hundred? You know the girl: will she take a hundred?’
‘I am sure she will. Give me the money, and let me go down to Plymouth and settle it with her.’
‘No,’ answered the father, ‘you are too weak. The job must be done by me at once. Let me see—to-morrow: impossible, engaged. Must make arrangements. Day after, yes; and, Charles, you go to Mr. Worthivale at Kingsbridge for a month, or better, six weeks, to be out of the way. He comes here to dinner to-morrow, when I will settle with him. Go.’
When Charles Cheek got into the street he exploded into laughter. ‘The little rogue!’ he exclaimed. ‘Who ever would have thought it? The hundred pounds she promised she gets out of my father. She has cost me a bad quarter of an hour, though.’