Paul Clifford — Complete
idea of money for herself, beyond the purchase of a new pony, or a
gown from London, seconded with affectionate pleasure all her father's
suggestions, and delighted herself with the reflection that those fine
plans, which were to make the Brandons greater than the Brandons ever
were before, were to be realized by her own, own money! It was at this
identical time that the surrounding gentry made a simultaneous and grand
discovery,--namely, of the astonishing merits and great good-sense of
Mr. Joseph Brandon. It was a pity, they observed, that he was of so
reserved and shy a turn,--it was not becoming in a gentleman of so
ancient a family; but why should they not endeavour to draw him from
his retirement into those more public scenes which he was doubtless well
calculated to adorn?
Accordingly, as soon as the first month of mourning had expired, several
coaches, chariots, chaises, and horses which had never been seen at
Warlock Manor-house before, arrived there one after the other in the
most friendly manner imaginable. Their owners admired everything,--the
house was such a fine relic of old times!--for their parts they liked
an oak staircase!--and those nice old windows!--and what a beautiful
peacock!--and, Heaven save the mark! that magnificent chestnut-tree
was worth a forest! Mr. Brandon was requested to make one of the county
hunt, not that he any longer hunted himself, but that his name would
give such consequence to the thing! Miss Lucy must come to pass a week
with her dear friends the Honourable Misses Sansterre! Augustus, their
brother, had such a sweet lady's horse! In short, the customary change
which takes place in people's characters after the acquisition of a
fortune took place in the characters of Mr. and Miss Brandon; and
when people become suddenly amiable, it is no wonder that they should
suddenly gain a vast accession of friends.
But Lucy, though she had seen so little of the world, was not quite
blind; and the squire, though rather obtuse, was not quite a fool.
If they were not rude to their new visitors, they were by no means
overpowered with gratitude at their condescension. Mr. Brandon declined
subscribing to the hunt, and Miss Lucy laughed in the face of the
Honourable Augustus Sansterre. Among their new guests, however, was one
who to great knowledge of the world joined an extreme and even
brilliant polish of manners, which at least prevented deceit from
being disagreeable, if not wholly from being unseen this was the new
lieutenant of the county, Lord Mauleverer.
Though possessed of an immense property in that district, Lord
Mauleverer had hitherto resided but little on his estates. He was one
of those gay lords who are now somewhat uncommon in this country after
mature manhood is attained, who live an easy and rakish life, rather
among their parasites than their equals, and who yet, by aid of an
agreeable manner, natural talents, and a certain graceful and light
cultivation of mind (not the less pleasant for its being universally
coloured with worldliness, and an amusing rather than offensive regard
for self), never lose their legitimate station in society; who are
oracles in dress, equipages, cookery, and beauty, and, having no
character of their own, are able to fix by a single word a character
upon any one else. Thus, while Mauleverer rather lived the dissolute
life of a young nobleman, who prefers the company of agreeable demireps
to that of wearisome duchesses, than maintained the decorous state
befitting a mature age, and an immense interest in the country, he was
quite as popular at court, where he held a situation in the household,
as he was in the green-room, where he enchanted every actress on the
right side of forty. A word from him in the legitimate quarters of power
went further than an harangue from another; and even the prudes--at
least, all those who had daughters--confessed that his lordship was a
very interesting character. Like Brandon, his familiar friend, he had
risen in the world (from the Irish baron to the English earl) without
having ever changed his politics, which were ultra-Tory; and we need not
observe that he was deemed, like Brandon, a model of public integrity.
He was possessed of two places under government, six votes in the House
of Commons, and eight livings in the Church; and we must add, in justice
to his loyal and religious principles, that there was not in the three
kingdoms a firmer friend to the existing establishments.
Whenever a nobleman does not marry, people try to take away his
character. Lord Mauleverer had never married. The Whigs had been
very bitter on the subject; they even alluded to it in the House of
Commons,--that chaste assembly, where the never-failing subject of
reproach against Mr. Pitt was the not being of an amorous temperament;
but they had not hitherto prevailed against the stout earl's celibacy.
It is true that if he was devoid of a wife, he had secured to himself
plenty of substitutes; his profession was that of a man of gallantry;
and though he avoided the daughters, it was only to make love to the
mothers. But his lordship had now attained a certain age, and it was
at last circulated among his friends that he intended to look out for a
Lady Mauleverer.
“Spare your caresses,” said his toady-in-chief to a certain duchess, who
had three portionless daughters; “Mauleverer has sworn that he will not
choose among your order. You know his high politics, and you will not
wonder at his declaring himself averse in matrimony as in morals to a
community of goods.”
The announcement of the earl's matrimonial design and the circulation of
this anecdote set all the clergymen's daughters in England on a blaze
of expectation; and when Mauleverer came to shire, upon obtaining the
honour of the lieutenancy, to visit his estates and court the friendship
of his neighbours, there was not an old-young lady of forty, who worked
in broad-stitch and had never been to London above a week at a time, who
did not deem herself exactly the sort of person sure to fascinate his
lordship.
It was late in the afternoon when the travelling-chariot of this
distinguished person, preceded by two outriders, in the earl's undress
livery of dark green, stopped at the hall door of Warlock House. The
squire was at home, actually and metaphorically; for he never dreamed of
denying himself to any one, gentle or simple. The door of the carriage
being opened, there descended a small slight man, richly dressed (for
lace and silk vestments were not then quite discarded, though gradually
growing less the mode), and of an air prepossessing and distinguished
rather than dignified. His years--for his countenance, though handsome,
was deeply marked, and evinced the tokens of dissipation--seemed more
numerous than they really were; and though not actually past middle age,
Lord Mauleverer might fairly have received the unpleasing epithet of
elderly. However, his step was firm, his gait upright, and his
figure was considerably more youthful than his physiognomy. The first
compliments of the day having passed, and Lord Mauleverer having
expressed his concern that his long and frequent absence from the county
had hitherto prevented his making the acquaintance of Mr. Brandon, the
brother of one of his oldest and most esteemed friends, conversation
became on both sides rather an effort. Mr. Brandon first introduced the
subject of the weather, and the turnips; inquired whether his lordship
was not very fond (for his part he used to be, but lately the rheumatism
had disabled him; he hoped his lordship was not subject to that
complaint) of shooting!
Catching only the last words,--for, besides the awful complexity of the
squire's sentences, Mauleverer was slightly affected by the aristocratic
complaint of deafness,--the earl answered, with a smile,--
“The complaint of shooting! Very good indeed, Mr. Brandon; it is seldom
that I have heard so witty a phrase. No, I am not in the least troubled
with that epidemic. It is a disorder very prevalent in this county.”
“My lord!” said the squire, rather puzzled; and then, observing that
Mauleverer did not continue, he thought it expedient to start another
subject.
“I was exceedingly grieved to hear that your lordship, in travelling
to Mauleverer Park (that is a very ugly road across the waste land; the
roads in this country are in general pretty good,--for my own part, when
I was a magistrate I was very strict in that respect), was robbed. You
have not yet, I believe, detected (for my part, though I do not profess
to be much of a politician, I do think that in affairs of robbery there
is a great deal of remissness in the ministers) the villains!”
“Our friend is disaffected!” thought the lord-lieutenant, imagining
that the last opprobrious term was applied to the respectable personages
specified in the parenthesis. Bowing with a polished smile to the
squire, Mauleverer replied aloud, that he was extremely sorry that
their conduct (meaning the ministers) did not meet with Mr. Brandon's
approbation.
“Well,” thought the squire, “that is playing the courtier with a
vengeance!--Meet with my approbation!” said he, warmly; “how could your
lordship think me (for though I am none of your saints, I am, I hope, a
good Christian; an excellent one, judging from your words, your lordship
must be!) so partial to crime!”
“I partial to crime!” returned Mauleverer, thinking he had stumbled
unawares on some outrageous democrat, yet smiling as softly as usual;
“you judge me harshly, Mr. Brandon! You must do me more justice, and you
can only do that by knowing me better.”
Whatever unlucky answer the squire might otherwise have made was cut
off by the entrance of Lucy; and the earl, secretly delighted at the
interruption, rose to render her his homage, and to remind her of the
introduction he had formerly been so happy as to obtain to her through
the friendship of Mr. William Brandon,--a “friendship,” said the gallant
nobleman, “to which I have often before been indebted, but which was
never more agreeably exerted on my behalf.”
Upon this Lucy, who though she had been so painfully bashful during
her meeting with Mr. Clifford, felt no overpowering diffidence in the
presence of so much greater a person, replied laughingly, and the earl
rejoined by a second compliment. Conversation was now no longer an
effort; and Mauleverer, the most consummate of epicures, whom even
royalty trembled to ask without preparation, on being invited by the
unconscious squire to partake of the family dinner, eagerly accepted
the invitation. It was long since the knightly walls of Warlock had been
honoured by the presence of a guest so courtly. The good squire heaped
his plate with a profusion of boiled beef; and while the poor earl was
contemplating in dismay the Alps upon Alps which he was expected to
devour, the gray-headed butler, anxious to serve him with alacrity,
whipped away the overloaded plate, and presently returned it, yet more
astoundingly surcharged with an additional world of a composition
of stony colour and sudorific aspect, which, after examining in mute
attention for some moments, and carefully removing as well as he was
able to the extreme edge of his plate, the earl discovered to be suet
pudding.
“You eat nothing, my lord,” cried the squire; “let me give you--this is
more underdone;” holding between blade and fork in middle air abhorrent
fragment of scarlet, shaking its gory locks,--“another slice.”
Swift at the word dropped upon Mauleverer's plate the harpy finger and
ruthless thumb of the gray-headed butler. “Not a morsel more,” cried the
earl, struggling with the murderous domestic. “My dear sir, excuse me; I
assure you I have never ate such a dinner before,--never!”