The Small House at Allington
a word, and she would answer that elevated personage with another
word; but nobody had attempted with her the task of conversation. It
was understood that Lady Dumbello did not converse,--unless it were
occasionally with Mr. Palliser.
She knew well that Mr. Palliser was to meet her there. He had told
her expressly that he should do so, having inquired, with much
solicitude, whether she intended to obey the invitation of the
countess. "I shall probably be there," she had said, and now had
determined that her mother's letter and her husband's conduct to her
should not cause her to break her word. Should Mr. Palliser "forget"
himself, she would know how to say a word to him as she had known how
to say a word to her husband. Forget himself! She was very sure that
Mr. Palliser had been making up his mind to forget himself for some
months past.
He did come to her, and stood over her, looking unutterable things.
His unutterable things, however, were so looked, that they did not
absolutely demand notice from the lady. He did not sigh like a
furnace, nor open his eyes upon her as though there were two suns in
the firmament above her head, nor did he beat his breast or tear his
hair. Mr. Palliser had been brought up in a school which delights in
tranquillity, and never allows its pupils to commit themselves either
to the sublime or to the ridiculous. He did look an unutterable thing
or two; but he did it with so decorous an eye, that the lady, who was
measuring it all with great accuracy, could not, as yet, declare that
Mr. Palliser had "forgotten himself."
There was room by her on the couch, and once or twice, at Hartlebury,
he had ventured so to seat himself. On the present occasion, however,
he could not do so without placing himself manifestly on her dress.
She would have known how to fill a larger couch even than that,--as
she would have known, also, how to make room,--had it been her mind
to do so. So he stood still over her, and she smiled at him. Such
a smile! It was cold as death, flattering no one, saying nothing,
hideous in its unmeaning, unreal grace. Ah! how I hate the smile
of a woman who smiles by rote! It made Mr. Palliser feel very
uncomfortable;--but he did not analyze it, and persevered.
"Lady Dumbello," he said, and his voice was very low, "I have been
looking forward to meeting you here."
"Have you, Mr. Palliser? Yes; I remember that you asked me whether
I was coming."
"I did. Hm--Lady Dumbello!" and he almost trenched upon the outside
verge of that schooling which had taught him to avoid both the
sublime and the ridiculous. But he had not forgotten himself as yet,
and so she smiled again.
"Lady Dumbello, in this world in which we live, it is so hard to get
a moment in which we can speak." He had thought that she would move
her dress, but she did not.
"Oh, I don't know," she said; "one doesn't often want to say very
much, I think."
"Ah, no; not often, perhaps. But when one does want! How I do
hate these crowded rooms!" Yet, when he had been at Hartlebury he
had resolved that the only ground for him would be the crowded
drawing-room of some large London house. "I wonder whether you ever
desire anything beyond them?"
"Oh, yes," said she; "but I confess that I am fond of parties."
Mr. Palliser looked round and thought that he saw that he was
unobserved. He had made up his mind as to what he would do, and he
was determined to do it. He had in him none of that readiness which
enables some men to make love and carry off their Dulcineas at a
moment's notice, but he had that pluck which would have made himself
disgraceful in his own eyes if he omitted to do that as to the doing
of which he had made a solemn resolution. He would have preferred to
do it sitting, but, faute de mieux, seeing that a seat was denied to
him, he would do it standing.
"Griselda," he said,--and it must be admitted that his tone was not
bad. The word sank softly into her ear, like small rain upon moss,
and it sank into no other ear. "Griselda!"
"Mr. Palliser!" said she;--and though she made no scene, though
she merely glanced upon him once, he could see that he was wrong.
"May I not call you so?"
"Certainly not. Shall I ask you to see if my people are there?" He
stood a moment before her hesitating. "My carriage, I mean." As she
gave the command she glanced at him again, and then he obeyed her
orders.
When he returned she had left her seat; but he heard her name
announced on the stairs, and caught a glance of the back of her head
as she made her way gracefully down through the crowd. He never
attempted to make love to her again, utterly disappointing the hopes
of Lady De Courcy, Mrs. Proudie, and Lady Clandidlem.
As I would wish those who are interested in Mr. Palliser's fortunes
to know the ultimate result of this adventure, and as we shall not
have space to return to his affairs in this little history, I may,
perhaps, be allowed to press somewhat forward, and tell what Fortune
did for him before the close of that London season. Everybody knows
that in that spring Lady Glencora MacCluskie was brought out before
the world, and it is equally well known that she, as the only child
of the late Lord of the Isles, was the great heiress of the day. It
is true that the hereditary possession of Skye, Staffa, Mull, Arran,
and Bute went, with the title, to the Marquis of Auldreekie, together
with the counties of Caithness and Ross-shire. But the property in
Fife, Aberdeen, Perth, and Kincardine-shire, comprising the greater
part of those counties, and the coal-mines in Lanark, as well as the
enormous estate within the city of Glasgow, were unentailed, and went
to the Lady Glencora. She was a fair girl, with bright blue eyes
and short wavy flaxen hair, very soft to the eye. The Lady Glencora
was small in stature, and her happy round face lacked, perhaps, the
highest grace of female beauty. But there was ever a smile upon it,
at which it was very pleasant to look; and the intense interest
with which she would dance, and talk, and follow up every amusement
that was offered her, was very charming. The horse she rode was the
dearest love--oh! she loved him so dearly! And she had a little
dog that was almost as dear as the horse. The friend of her youth,
Sabrina Scott, was--oh, such a girl! And her cousin, the little Lord
of the Isles, the heir of the marquis, was so gracious and beautiful
that she was always covering him with kisses. Unfortunately he was
only six, so that there was hardly a possibility that the properties
should be brought together.
But Lady Glencora, though she was so charming, had even in this, her
first outset upon the world, given great uneasiness to her friends,
and caused the Marquis of Auldreekie to be almost wild with dismay.
There was a terribly handsome man about town, who had spent every
shilling that anybody would give him, who was very fond of brandy,
who was known, but not trusted, at Newmarket, who was said to be deep
in every vice, whose father would not speak to him;--and with him the
Lady Glencora was never tired of dancing. One morning she had told
her cousin the marquis, with a flashing eye,--for the round blue eye
could flash,--that Burgo Fitzgerald was more sinned against than
sinning. Ah me! what was a guardian marquis, anxious for the fate of
the family property, to do under such circumstances as that?
But before the end of the season the marquis and the duke were
both happy men, and we will hope that the Lady Glencora also was
satisfied. Mr. Plantagenet Palliser had danced with her twice, and
had spoken his mind. He had an interview with the marquis, which was
pre-eminently satisfactory, and everything was settled. Glencora no
doubt told him how she had accepted that plain gold ring from Burgo
Fitzgerald, and how she had restored it; but I doubt whether she ever
told him of that wavy lock of golden hair which Burgo still keeps in
his receptacle for such treasures.
"Plantagenet," said the duke, with quite unaccustomed warmth, "in
this, as in all things, you have shown yourself to be everything that
I could desire. I have told the marquis that Matching Priory, with
the whole estate, should be given over to you at once. It is the most
comfortable country-house I know. Glencora shall have The Horns as
her wedding present."
But the genial, frank delight of Mr. Fothergill pleased Mr. Palliser
the most. The heir of the Pallisers had done his duty, and Mr.
Fothergill was unfeignedly a happy man.
CHAPTER LVI.
SHOWING HOW MR. CROSBIE BECAME AGAIN A HAPPY MAN.
It has been told in the last chapter how Lady De Courcy gave a great
party in London in the latter days of April, and it may therefore be
thought that things were going well with the De Courcys; but I fear
the inference would be untrue. At any rate, things were not going
well with Lady Alexandrina, for she, on her mother's first arrival in
town, had rushed to Portman-square with a long tale of her
sufferings.
"Oh, mamma! you would not believe it; but he hardly ever speaks to
me."
"My dear, there are worse faults in a man than that."
"I am alone there all the day. I never get out. He never offers to
get me a carriage. He asked me to walk with him once last week, when
it was raining. I saw that he waited till the rain began. Only think,
I have not been out three evenings this month,--except to Amelia's;
and now he says he won't go there any more, because a fly is so
expensive. You can't believe how uncomfortable the house is."
"I thought you chose it, my dear."
"I looked at it, but, of course, I didn't know what a house ought
to be. Amelia said it wasn't nice, but he would have it. He hates
Amelia. I'm sure of that, for he says everything he can to snub her
and Mr. Gazebee. Mr. Gazebee is as good as he, at any rate. What do
you think? He has given Richard warning to go. You never saw him,
but he was a very good servant. He has given him warning, and he is
not talking of getting another man. I won't live with him without
somebody to wait upon me."
"My dearest girl, do not think of such a thing as leaving him."
"But I will think of it, mamma. You do not know what my life is in
that house. He never speaks to me,--never. He comes home before
dinner at half-past six, and when he has just shown himself he goes
to his dressing-room. He is always silent at dinner-time, and after
dinner he goes to sleep. He breakfasts always at nine, and goes away
at half-past nine, though I know he does not get to his office till
eleven. If I want anything, he says that it cannot be afforded. I
never thought before that he was stingy, but I am sure now that he
must be a miser at heart."
"It is better so than a spendthrift, Alexandrina."
"I don't know that it is better. He could not make me more unhappy
than I am. Unhappy is no word for it. What can I do, shut up in such
a house as that by myself from nine o'clock in the morning till six
in the evening? Everybody knows what he is, so that nobody will come
to see me. I tell you fairly, mamma, I will not stand it. If you
cannot help me, I will look for help elsewhere."
It may, at any rate, be said that things were not going well with
that branch of the De Courcy family. Nor, indeed, was it going well
with some other branches. Lord Porlock had married, not having
selected his partner for life from the choicest cream of the
aristocratic circles, and his mother, while endeavouring to say a
word in his favour, had been so abused by the earl that she had been
driven to declare that she could no longer endure such usage. She had
come up to London in direct opposition to his commands, while he was
fastened to his room by gout; and had given her party in defiance of
him, so that people should not say, when her back was turned, that