CHAPTER XV.
"THAT WOULD BE DISAGREEABLE."
Things at Trafford on that day and on the next were veryuncomfortable. No house could possibly be more so. There were fourpersons who, in the natural course of things, would have livedtogether, not one of whom would sit down to table with any other.The condition of the Marquis, of course, made it impossible that heshould do so. He was confined to his room, in which he would notadmit Mr. Greenwood to come near him, and where his wife's shortvisits did not seem to give him much satisfaction. Even with hisson he was hardly at his ease, seeming to prefer the society of thenurse, with occasional visits from the doctor and Mr. Roberts. TheMarchioness confined herself to her own room, in which it was herintention to prevent the inroads of Mr. Greenwood as far as it mightbe possible. That she should be able to exclude him altogether wasmore than she could hope, but much, she thought, could be done bythe dint of headaches, and by a resolution never to take her fooddown-stairs. Lord Hampstead had declared his purpose to Harris, aswell as to his father, never again to sit down to table with Mr.Greenwood. "Where does he dine?" he asked the butler. "Generallyin the family dining-room, my lord," said Harris. "Then give me mydinner in the breakfast parlour." "Yes, my lord," said the butler,who at once resolved to regard Mr. Greenwood as an enemy of thefamily. In this manner Mr. Greenwood gave no trouble, as he had hismeat sent to him in his own sitting-room. But all this made the housevery uncomfortable.
In the afternoon Mr. Roberts came over from Shrewsbury, and saw LordHampstead. "I knew he would make himself disagreeable, my lord," saidMr. Roberts.
"How did you know it?"
"Things creep out. He had made himself disagreeable to his lordshipfor some months past; and then we heard that he was talking ofAppleslocombe as though he were certain to be sent there."
"My father never thought of it."
"I didn't think he did. Mr. Greenwood is the idlest human being thatever lived, and how could he have performed the duties of a parish?"
"He asked my father once, and my father flatly refused him."
"Perhaps her ladyship--," suggested Mr. Roberts, with somehesitation.
"At any rate he is not to have Appleslocombe, and he must be madeto go. How is it to be done?" Mr. Roberts raised his eyebrows. "Isuppose there must be some means of turning an objectionable residentout of a house."
"The police, of course, could carry him out--with a magistrate'sorder. He would have to be treated like any other vagrant."
"That would be disagreeable."
"Very disagreeable, my lord," said Mr. Roberts. "My lord should besaved from that if possible."
"How if we gave him nothing to eat?" said Lord Hampstead.
"That would be possible; but it would be troublesome. What if heresolved to remain and be starved? It would be seeing which wouldhold out the longer. I don't think my lord would have the heart tokeep him twenty-four hours without food. We must try and save my lordfrom what is disagreeable as much as we can." Lord Hampstead was inaccord as to this, but did not quite see his way how to effect it.There were still, however, more than three weeks to run before theday fixed for the chaplain's exit, and Mr. Roberts suggested that itmight in that time be fully brought home to the man that his L200 ayear would depend on his going. "Perhaps you'd better leave him tome, my lord," said Mr. Roberts; "and I shall deal with him betterwhen you're not here."
When the time came for afternoon tea Mr. Greenwood, perceiving thatno invitation came to him from the Marchioness, sent a note up to herasking for the favour of an interview. "He had a few words to say,and would be much obliged to her if she would allow him to come toher." On receiving this she pondered for some time before she couldmake up her mind as to what answer she should give. She would havebeen most anxious to do as she had already heard that Lord Hampsteadhad done, and decline to meet him at all. She could not analyze herown feelings about the man, but had come during the last few days tohold him in horror. It was as though something of the spirit of themurderer had shown itself to her in her eyes. She had talked glibly,wickedly, horribly of the death of the man who had seemed to standin her way. She had certainly wished for it. She had taught herselfto think, by some ultra-feminine lack of logic, that she had reallybeen injured in that her own eldest boy had not been born heir to hisfather's titles. She had found it necessary to have some recipientfor her griefs. Her own sister, Lady Persiflage, had given her nocomfort, and then she had sought for and had received encouragementfrom her husband's chaplain. But in talking of Lord Hampstead's deathshe had formed no plan. She had only declared in strong language thatif, by the hand of Providence, such a thing should be done, it wouldbe to her a happy chance. She had spoken out where another moreprudent than she would perhaps only have wished. But this man hadtaken up her words with an apparently serious purpose which hadfrightened her; and then, as though he had been the recipient of someguilty secret, he had laid aside the respect which had been usualto him, and had assumed a familiarity of co-partnership which hadannoyed and perplexed her. She did not quite understand it all, butwas conscious of a strong desire to be rid of him. But she did notdare quite as yet to let him know that such was her purpose, and shetherefore sent her maid down to him with a message. "Mr. Greenwoodwants to see me," she said to the woman. "Will you tell him with mycompliments that I am not very well, and that I must beg him not tostay long."
"Lord Hampstead has been a' quarrelling with Mr. Greenwood, mylady,--this very morning," said the maid.
"Quarrelling, Walker?"
"Yes, my lady. There has been ever so much about it. My lord says ashe won't sit down to dinner with Mr. Greenwood on no account, and Mr.Roberts has been here, all about it. He's to be turned away."
"Who is to be turned away?"
"Mr. Greenwood, my lady. Lord Hampstead has been about it all themorning. It's for that my lord the Marquis has sent for him, andnobody's to speak to him till he's packed up everything, and takenhimself right away out of the house."
"Who has told you all that, Walker?" Walker, however, would notbetray her informant. She answered that it was being talked of byeverybody down-stairs, and she repeated it now only because shethought it proper that "my lady" should be informed of what was goingon. "My lady" was not sorry to have received the information evenfrom her maid, as it might assist her in her conversation with thechaplain.
On this occasion Mr. Greenwood sat down without being asked. "I amsorry to hear that you are so unwell, Lady Kingsbury."
"I have got one of my usual headaches;--only it's rather worse thanusual."
"I have something to say which I am sure you will not be surprisedthat I should wish to tell you. I have been grossly insulted by LordHampstead."
"What can I do?"
"Well;--something ought to be done."
"I cannot make myself answerable for Lord Hampstead, Mr. Greenwood."
"No; of course not. He is a young man for whom no one would makehimself answerable. He is head-strong, violent, and most uncourteous.He has told me very rudely that I must leave the house by the end ofthe month."
"I suppose the Marquis had told him."
"I don't believe it. Of course the Marquis is ill, and I could bearmuch from him. But I won't put up with it from Lord Hampstead."
"What can I do?"
"Well;--after what has passed between us, Lady Kingsbury,--" Hepaused, and looked at her as he made this appeal. She compressed herlips and collected herself, and prepared for the fight which she feltwas coming. He saw it all, and prepared himself also. "After what haspassed between us, Lady Kingsbury," he said, repeating his words, "Ithink you ought to be on my side."
"I don't think anything of the kind. I don't know what you mean aboutsides. If the Marquis says you're to go, I can't keep you."
"I'll tell you what I've done, Lady Kingsbury. I have refused to stirout of this house till I've been allowed to discuss the matter withhis lordship; and I think you ought to give me your countenance. I'msure I've always been true to you. When you have
unburdened yourtroubles to my ears I have always been sympathetic. When you havetold me what a trouble this young man has been to you, have not Ialways,--always,--always taken your part against him?" He almostlonged to tell her that he had formed a plan for ridding heraltogether of the obnoxious young man; but he could not find thewords in which to do this. "Of course I have felt that I might dependupon you for assistance and countenance in this house."
"Mr. Greenwood," she said, "I really cannot talk to you about thesethings. My head is aching very badly, and I must ask you to go."
"And that is to be all?"
"Don't you hear me tell you that I cannot interfere?" Still he keptthat horrid position of his upon the chair, staring at her with hislarge, open, lustreless eyes. "Mr. Greenwood, I must ask you to leaveme. As a gentleman you must comply with my request."
"Oh," he said; "very well! Then I am to know that after thirty years'faithful service all the family has turned against me. I shall takecare--" But he paused, remembering that were he to speak a word toomuch, he might put in jeopardy the annuity which had been promisedhim; and at last he left the room.
Of Mr. Greenwood no one saw anything more that day, nor did LordHampstead encounter him again before he returned to London. Hampsteadhad arranged to stay at Trafford during the following day, and thento return to London, again using the night mail train. But on thenext morning a new trouble fell upon him. He received his sister'sletter, and learned that George Roden had been with her at HendonHall. He had certainly pledged himself that there should be no suchmeeting, and had foolishly renewed this pledge only yesterday. Whenhe read the letter he was vexed, chiefly with himself. The argumentswhich she had used as to Roden's coming, and also those by whichshe had excused herself for receiving him, did seem to him to bereasonable. When the man was going on such a journey it was naturalthat he should wish to see the girl he loved; and natural that sheshould wish to see him. And he was well aware that neither of themhad pledged themselves. It was he only who had given a pledge, andthat as to the conduct of others who had refused to support him init. Now his pledge had been broken, and he felt himself called uponto tell his father of what had occurred. "After all that I told youyesterday," he said, "George Roden and Fanny have met each other."Then he attempted to make the best excuse he could for this breach ofthe promise which he had made.
"What's the good?" said the Marquis. "They can't marry each other. Iwouldn't give her a shilling if she were to do such a thing withoutmy sanction." Hampstead knew very well that, in spite of this, hisfather had made by his will ample provision for his sister, and thatit was very improbable that any alteration in this respect would bemade, let his sister's disobedience be what it might. But the Marquisseemed hardly to be so much affected as he had expected by thesetidings. "Whatever you do," said the Marquis, "don't let her ladyshipknow it. She would be sure to come down to me and say it was all myfault; and then she would tell me what Mr. Greenwood thought aboutit." The poor man did not know how little likely it was that shewould ever again throw Mr. Greenwood in his teeth.
Lord Hampstead had not as yet even seen his stepmother, but hadthought it no more than decent to send her word that he would waitupon her before he left the house. All domestic troubles he knew tobe bad. For his stepmother's sake, and for that of his sister andlittle brothers, he would avoid as far as might be possible any openrupture. He therefore went to the Marchioness before he ate hisdinner. "My father is much better," he said; but his stepmother onlyshook her head, so that there was before him the task of recommencingthe conversation. "Dr. Spicer says so."
"I am not sure that Mr. Spicer knows much about it."
"He thinks so himself."
"He never tells me what he thinks. He hardly tells me anything."
"He is not strong enough for much talking."
"He will talk to Mr. Roberts by the hour together. So I hear that Iam to congratulate you." This she said in a tone which was clearlyintended to signify both condemnation and ridicule.
"I am not aware of it," said Hampstead with a smile.
"I suppose it is true about the Quaker lady?"
"I can hardly tell you, not knowing what you may have heard. Therecan be no room for congratulation, as the lady has not accepted theoffer I have made her." The Marchioness laughed incredulously,--witha little affected laugh in which the incredulity was sincere.--"I canonly tell you that it is so."
"No doubt you will try again?"
"No doubt."
"Young ladies in such circumstances are not apt to persevere in theirseverity. Perhaps it may be supposed that she will give way at last."
"I cannot take upon myself to answer that, Lady Kingsbury. The matteris one on which I am not particularly anxious to talk. Only as youasked me I thought it best just to tell you the facts."
"I am sure I am ever so much obliged to you. The young lady's fatheris--"
"The young lady's father is a clerk in a merchant's office in theCity."
"So I understand,--and a Quaker?"
"And a Quaker."
"And I believe he lives at Holloway."
"Just so."
"In the same street with that young man whom Fanny has--has chosen topick up."
"Marion Fay and her father live at No. 17, Paradise Row, Holloway;and Mrs. Roden and George Roden live at No. 11."
"Exactly. We may understand, therefore, how you became acquaintedwith Miss Fay."
"I don't think you can. But if you wish to know I will tell you thatI first saw Miss Fay at Mrs. Roden's house."
"I suppose so."
Hampstead had begun this interview with perfect good humour; butthere had gradually been growing upon him that tone of defiance whichher little speeches to him had naturally produced. Scorn would alwaysproduce scorn in him, as would ridicule and satire produce the samein return. "I do not know why you should have supposed so, but suchwas the fact. Neither had George Roden or my sister anything todo with it. Miss Fay is a friend of Mrs. Roden, and Mrs. Rodenintroduced me to the young lady."
"I am sure we are all very much obliged to her."
"I am, at any rate,--or shall be if I succeed at last."
"Poor fellow! It will be very piteous if you too are thwarted inlove."
"I'll say good-bye, my lady," said he, getting up to leave her.
"You have told me nothing of Fanny."
"I do not know that I have anything to tell."
"Perhaps she also will be jilted."
"I should hardly think so."
"Because, as you tell me, she is not allowed to see him." There wasa thorough disbelief expressed in this which annoyed him. It was asthough she had expressed her opinion that the lovers were encouragedto meet daily in spite of the pledge which had been given. And thenthe pledge had been broken; and there would be a positive lie on hispart if he were now to leave her with the idea that they had not met."You must find it hard to keep them apart, as they are so near."
"I have found it too hard, at any rate."
"Oh, you have?"
"They did meet yesterday."
"Oh, they did. Directly your back was turned?"
"He was going abroad, and he came; and she has written to tell me ofit. I say nothing of myself, Lady Kingsbury; but I do not think youcan understand how true she can be,--and he also."
"That is your idea of truth."
"That is my idea of truth, Lady Kingsbury; which, as I said before, Iam afraid I cannot explain to you. I have never meant to deceive you;nor have they."
"I thought a promise was a promise," she said. Then he left her,condescending to make no further reply. On that night he went backto London, with a sad feeling at his heart that his journey down toTrafford had done no good to any one. He had, however, escaped adanger of which he had known nothing.