The Semi-attached Couple/Chapter 26
CHAPTER XXVI
"Don't you think Reginald Stuart very much out of spirits?" said Lady Portmore, when she was lingering over the breakfast-table, after the other ladies had withdrawn and Lord Teviot and Stuart had gone out shooting.
"Yes, I think he is," said Ernest, "rather out of spirits, and very much out of cash, I suspect; the old story of cause and effect."
"Poor fellow!" continued Lady Portmore; "it is a very deplorable case, for I don't believe that tiresome, poky brother of his. Lord Weybridge, will help him. In fact, between ourselves, I don't like Lord Weybridge; he is so hypocritical, he always pretends to be on good terms with our friend Reginald, and yet he lets him go on, distressed to the last degree for money."
"He did pay his debts once, you know, £16,000."
"Yes, but that was years ago; when Stuart was so young he hardly knew what he was spending. I have heard him say twenty times that he had no more idea how he spent all that money than the man in the moon. But now that he is older and wiser, I feel certain that if Lord Weybridge were to pay off what he owes, and give him something reasonable to live on, he would be very steady."
"Weybridge has six boys of his own, you must remember," said Lord Beaufort.
"Now, my dear Beaufort, do not you join to run down poor Stuart; you can have no idea of his position. There you are, an only son, with a large allowance, and Lord Eskdale ready to pay your debts at any moment."
"Is he? I am charmed to hear it, but I beg to observe that he has not had to pay £16,000 or even £1600 for me. And my run against Stuart consists simply in the observation that Lord Weybridge has six boys to provide for."
"What! those babies? Why the eldest is not eight years old; they can cost him nothing but a few yards of stuff for their frocks. Children can be clothed and fed for nothing now; and I only want him to put Stuart straight with the world, and then he may save for his own children, and welcome."
"I hope," said La Grange, "Colonel Stuart is not so much indebted. He have a horse which will run at Doncaster, and have taken one house at Melton."
"Yes, quite a cottage. I know he has given up the large house he had last year without a murmur; and as for his horse at Doncaster, he told me himself that he is sick of the turf, but he thinks it his absolute duty to try if he cannot recover a little money at Doncaster."
"Ah, then, he run that horse just for a matter of trade, as a lawyer makes a speech for fee."
"Exactly, that is his view of the case; and in all other respects I never saw a creature more unselfish. I know he came here with only a pair of horses; he has withdrawn his name from one club, if not more, and, except his riding-horses, he keeps nothing but a cabriolet."
"Ah! that cabriolet," said Mr. G.; "now that is one of the mysteries I wish you would solve for me, Lady Portmore. There are about sixty clerks in my office, most of them younger brothers of good family, with allowances of two or three hundred a year; and by writing eight hours daily they earn another hundred. And yet two-thirds of these youngsters keep a cab with a high-stepping horse and a diminutive groom. I do not know what it costs, as I never indulged in such a luxury myself; but I presume that above half of their income goes in this foolery."
"But what can they do? London is so large."
"Yes," said La Grange, "it is of such immense grandeur; and without a cab how can you bring yourself out of the affair? Suppose yourself with a visit to make in the high end of Portland Place, how would you get there from the Travellers'?"
"By Regent Street," said Mr. G., smiling.
"But how? I beg a thousand pardons."
"On foot."
"Oh, impossible," said Lady Portmore; "it would kill any of the young men of the present day to attempt such a walk; it must be four miles at least, or two, or some immense distance. No, I dare say a cab is rather an extravagance; but I own I think it an absolute necessity."
"Yes," said Lord Beaufort; "I do not see what a man is to do in London without a cab."
"No," said Ernest, "I quite agree with you; it is as indispensable as a coat."
"Exactly so," said La Grange.
"I am quite convinced of the fact by this unanimity of opinion," answered Mr. G. "I am only thankful I was born before this fatal cabriolet obligation was invented, and that I am able to walk every day from Grosvenor Square to Downing Street, and back again."
"But if it rains?"
"I put on my greatcoat, and put up my umbrella; and it is curious that I am generally accompanied by some man of my own standing, and that at every crossing we are either splashed or nearly run over by a tribe of young boys going nodding along in one of those puppet-shows on wheels. However, if it is necessary, I say no more; but I am not surprised to hear of so many young men deeply in debt"; and so saying he walked off to his red boxes and his Fisherwick.
"It is very sad, certainly, and G. may be partly right," said Lady Portmore; "but in Stuart's case his cabriolet is an actual measure of economy; he sold those magnificent carriage-horses when he set it up. I must repeat that I think he is in a very pitiable position. He is willing to submit to every sort of privation; but, as he says, what is the use of trying, if his family will not help him? "
"I thought his mother was very liberal to him."
"Yes, she makes him some sort of allowance; but she does not do all that he expected. And that is where I think his family so much to blame; they help him only to a certain extent. And that, as he says, puts him in a false position; he gets the reputation of having his debts paid over and over again, and yet he is never so entirely clear as to feel encouraged to live economically. No, it really makes my heart bleed to think of all those selfish Weybridges, and to see Stuart so unlike himself."
"Has not your friend Miss Forrester," said Lord Beaufort, "a great share of Stuart's low spirits to answer for?"
"If you mean that he cares about her," said Lady Portmore, "that is what he never did and never will, in my opinion; but at one time he had certainly a good right to expect that she would marry him, and it is a great pity she did not."
"She jilted him in the coolest manner when she inherited that fortune, did not she?" said Lord Beaufort.
"Had you not better look behind that screen, Beaufort, before you proceed?" whispered Ernest.
"Pho! nonsense," he said; but he started from his chair as he spoke, for, leaning against the door of the conservatory, where she and Eliza had gone to gather flowers, stood Mary Forrester, and any faint hopes which he might have entertained of not having been overheard were dissipated by the decided measure she took of walking straight up to the table and addressing him.
"This is the second time, Lord Beaufort, in which I have by chance overheard you accuse me of the most odious conduct to Colonel Stuart." She stopped, apparently choked by the violence of her emotion; her face was pale, but hot tears of shame and anger stood in her beaming eyes. After a moment's pause, which no one dared to interrupt except La Grange, who politely pushed a chair half an inch nearer to her, she passed her hands rapidly over her face, and said in a more collected tone, "But this is foolish, I am speaking as if I were angry and perhaps I was so, for a minute. At all events, it is evident that I am not calm enough; not enough at my ease to make a good defence against your charges. But Lady Portmore has already borne witness that I never possessed the affections of Lord Beaufort's friend, and if Lord Beaufort will take the trouble to ask his sister how and when I became aware of that fact, she has my free leave to tell him all. I think she can exculpate me from the crime of jilting Colonel Stuart."
"I am sure," said Lord Beaufort—"I am certain—that is, I have no right to ask Helen."
"Perhaps not," she said, dejectedly; "but I ask it as a favour. You have only heard and repeated the statements of your friend. Hear what my friend, and Helen is my real and best friend, has to say for me. Perhaps you will still think me to blame; but I think your persecution of me," and she half smiled, "will not be so constant as it now seems to be." Again, there was a short pause; she leant with both hands on the table to steady herself, for she shook with timidity, as she added, "I am ashamed to say so much about myself, but the fortune that is supposed to have influenced me does not exist; I mean, that I am not the heiress Lord Beaufort thinks I am. The fortune is not mine now—I wish every one to know that. Now, Eliza, let us go"; and so swift was their retreat, that no one had time to speak before they were fairly housed in the next room, and Eliza had thrown her arms round her friend's neck, and given way to the burst of tears which had been gathering during the whole scene, while she said, "Never mind them, dear Miss Forrester, it is all ill-nature, and they had much the worst of it at last."
And so they had: there never was a more discomfited set of people, barring La Grange, who considered himself in high luck at having witnessed such a scene: it was an incident quite unmatched in his English recollections, and he was only longing to slip away, and write it down before he lost "the idiom" of Miss Forrester's expressions. Lord Beaufort was completely overpowered; even Lady Portmore was annoyed, for though she knew she could never be in the wrong, she thought she might have been more in the right if she had taken Mary's part more decidedly: but she was the first to speak. "Well, this is very unlucky."
"Very," said Ernest.
"Deuced unlucky," said La Grange, who was learned in vulgar English expletives.
"I hate the sort of thing," said Lady Portmore, "because, though I said nothing, Mary might think I did, and it will make such a tracasserie."
"Come, Beaufort, speak up," said Ernest, patting him on the shoulder.
"I cannot," said Lord Beaufort, rising and leaning his head against the chimney-piece. "It's a bad business."
"It certainly is," said Lady Portmore; "and those sort of scenes take away one's presence of mind so, or else I would have explained it all to Mary at once."
"It was very fine though: Mees Forster resembled very much Pasta, in Medea, at that grand moment when she says 'lo!'" added La Grange.
"Can't you send him away? " whispered Lord Beaufort to Lady Portmore.
"M. La Grange, if you mean to go out shooting to-day, there are all the keepers now on the lawn."
"Ah! I see, Lady Portmore, you do think my chamber, I mean my room, better than my company, as we say in England; and I dare say I will disturb you if I stay. My lord, do not distress yourself; when Mees Forster think it over, she shall think it all fudge to be affronted just for so few words"; and with a hearty laugh at the excellence of his English vulgarity, which harmonized ill with the feelings of his hearers. La Grange walked off.
"I am glad he is gone," said Lady Portmore. "Do shut the door, Ernest, for fear he should hear me say how detestable he is; and now what are we all to do?"
"We have done enough for one morning," said Ernest.
"But what did Mary mean by the second time?" Lady Portmore asked.
"Beaufort gave her the benefit of his opinion once before, in the library, when she was in the gallery."
"No, did he? Really that is being imprudent, my dear Beaufort; and what distresses me particularly is, that Mary came in just when she did. If she had waited a moment, I was going to tell you that the engagement or attachment, or whatever it was, was at an end a fortnight before Mary ever heard of that fortune, and that she gave Stuart up on hearing of that unfortunate Mrs. Neville. In fact, I think Mrs. Neville sent her some of Stuart's letters, or wrote to her, or something of that kind."
"You might have told me that sooner, Lady Portmore, and then I should not have said what I did."
"How did I know you were not aware of it? I really think, Beaufort, the scrape is entirely your own, and you need not try to draw me into it. Besides, I am the last person in the world likely to say anything against Mary, who I am sure loves me better than anybody upon earth, though she did call Helen her best friend; but then she was angry. Why, I brought her here, you know, in my own carriage."
"It is rather a pity you did," said Ernest, "as things have turned out."
"Don't joke about it, Ernest," said Lord Beaufort, "for I am heartily vexed, and that is the truth. It does look like persecution, as she said."
"She came forward very gallantly," said Ernest. "I did not suspect she had so much spirit. We all looked remarkably small, I thought."
"As for that," said Lady Portmore, "I must beg to say that I did not look the least put out."
"My dear lady, I wish you could have seen yourself; such a look of guilt! I expected you to faint."
"Nonsense, Ernest, why should I? I was taking Mary's part; at least, I should have taken it, in another minute; but for fear of any mistake, I shall just go after her, and explain to her that I was quite innocent during the whole conversation."
"And I shall go to Helen," said Lord Beaufort.
"And I shall go and look for my own particular little Miss Douglas," said Ernest. "She looked aghast at the sudden breeze. The confidante's look of horror prevented me from giving my undivided attention to the principal performers. I shall like to hear what she thought of it."
"You really will persuade yourself that you care about that little Douglas girl if you carry on the joke much further," said Lady Portmore in a vexed tone. "Beaufort, I would advise you to wait a little, or you will find Mary with your sister."
"I don't very much care if I do. The meeting will be awkward, at any rate, and I had rather have it over when I am in the mood to say all that is humble"; and he walked off.
"It is rather unfair that he should see her first," said Lady Portmore, "so I shall go to her room, and see if she is there."
"And when you have both exculpated yourselves for saying too much," said Ernest, "will you add in a note that I, according to my praiseworthy custom, was saying nothing."