The Semi-attached Couple/Chapter 25
CHAPTER XXV
Mr. G. arrived, of course too late for dinner; but as it was some years since he had seen either soup or fish in their best and hottest state of culinary excellence, he was quite satisfied—made the slightest possible apology for sitting down to dinner in his travelling dress, and looked like a gentleman and a well-dressed man.
Fisherwick looked horrid: he was, from his sedentary habits, averse to an open carriage, even in the dog-days; and the afternoon had been wet and foggy, so he was chilly to the last degree; and he always turned bright yellow tipped with blue when the fresh country air blew for any length of time on his worn-out Downing-street frame. His hair contrived to collect more dust than the usual laws of capillary attraction warranted. His black neckcloth turned browner and hung looser than common black cravats; his coat was a dingy brown—and, altogether, he had the air of an exhausted ink-bottle. If he had been allowed his luncheon on the road, and gallons of hot soap and water on his arrival, he would have been quite another Fisherwick; but, as it was, he looked like "a very unwashed artificer" indeed; and till he arrived at his third glass of champagne, he was as depressed and as uncomfortable as it was possible for a Cabinet Minister's private secretary, né Fisherwick, to be. But then he revived, and resumed his usual habits of official affability and courteous incommunicativeness, and his little dry pleasantries flowed forth, playfully cloaking his inflexible discretion.
"Any foreign news, Fisherwick?" said Sir Charles. "I don't half like your last Spanish accounts."
"Ah, trust you country gentleman for croaking, and for finding out what is not to be liked; you are never satisfied."
"The last published details are anything but satisfactory. Have you any later accounts?"
"I do not know the date of the last you saw."
"They were dated the 23rd; you must have heard later news than that."
"We ought, certainly. For myself, I ask nothing more from Spain than a glass of this excellent sherry."
"Are you asking about the Spanish news?" said Mr. G. from the other end of the table. "Nothing can be worse; our friends are in full retreat, and, in fact, the game is up."
"Now is not that so like him?" exclaimed Fisherwick in an ecstasy. "I always say there is nothing like his candour and courage. I never saw such a man."
"At what time did you start this morning?"
"At seven; he's always ready, you know."
"You must have found it coolish work, starting in the rain and fog at that hour?"
"He never is cold," said the pinched and suffering Fisherwick; "he said it was as fine a morning as we could expect. He has the cheerfullest mind, and a power over it that I never saw equalled. What do you think he did the last stage?—slept like a top, though I told him when we changed horses that I was afraid we should be too late for dinner. 'We always are, my dear Fish,' he said, and went to sleep again with the greatest composure. He has such equable spirits."
"He looks well," said Lord Beaufort, "considering what a bore of a session it has been."
"Does not he?" said Fisherwick, triumphantly. "I am excessively glad your lordship has observed it; it is quite remarkable. I never saw him look better"; and his dear dusty eyes filled with tears, for his devotion to his chief was as genuine as it was apparent, and he always took to himself the comments, whether complimentary or condemnatory, that were made on Mr. G. It made him feel well himself to be told that Mr. G. looked so.
Lady Portmore was not satisfied with her position at the dining-table. She was seated by Lord Teviot, and as the place next to Helen had been reserved for Mr. G., she was as far removed from the reigning great man as was possible; and to her surprise she saw Helen and Mr. G. talking and laughing with all the ease of old acquaintance. Once or twice she tried to enter into their conversation; but the distance was too great, and her sparkling remarks were lost in the steam of the entrées before they reached the head of the table.
"What a clever countenance my friend G. has," she said to Lord Teviot; "such a brow! If I met him without knowing who he was, I should say directly, That must be a clever man!"
"It is very unlucky," said Mrs. Douglas, who was seated on the other hand of Lord Teviot; "but I cannot agree with you at all. I never was more disappointed in my life with anybody's looks; he is so bald, and nearly gray—at least ten years older-looking than I had expected—and altogether very much like other people. But that is always the case. I never yet saw anybody who had been much cried up, who did not seem to me particularly commonplace."
"Wait till you hear him converse," said Lord Teviot; "perhaps you will then own that he is rather above the common herd."
"Yes," said Lady Portmore, "you will see how it will be this evening; he is perhaps more at his ease with me than with anybody, and I will lead him to talk on subjects that interest him, and you will be amazingly struck with his talent."
"At present I am more struck with his teeth. Pray, does he always laugh so much? amongst common characters that would be looked upon as a proof of folly."
"Perhaps G. will turn out to be a fool at last," said Lord Teviot.
"Oh, no!" interrupted Lady Portmore, who had not the first principles of a joke in her; "you may believe me, G. is no fool. I can answer for that; I have known him for ages, and can venture to say he is decidedly above par."
"Well, then, his laughter is only a proof that Lady Teviot amuses him; they certainly are very gay at that end of the table."
"Yes, absolutely noisy," said Lady Portmore, spitefully. "Now, my dear Teviot," she added, lowering her voice, "this shows you how right I was, when I told you that Helen required mixed society to put her in spirits. Only let your house be full, and she will be happy; and, perhaps, when she is a little older and wiser she will be content with a more domestic life." And with this food for meditation she left him, as she obeyed Helen's signal to retire.