CHAPTER VIII.
AT THE CASTLE.
The Haggards were heartily glad to leave town. The nasty scandal at thePandemonium had been particularly irritating to Haggard personally."Thank God," he said to himself, "the head of the family will probablynever hear of it, unless Hetton should go out of his way to tell him;but I don't think he'd do that, he's not too particular himself, so itwould be only a case of the pot calling the kettle, after all. It wasn'tmy fault. How could I know the young idiot was drugging himself withChartreuse? I was too much interested in the game. Besides, some one wasbound to have his money sooner or later; in fact," pondered the big man,"I've been rather ill-used, when I come to think of it. It's just myluck."
Just his luck! Yes, it was just his luck; just his luck to squanderevery farthing he possessed, and to be pitied by everybody when deportedto do the best he could for himself. Just his luck to have what theAmericans call a "high-old time" in Mexico, to hunt, to shoot, to enjoythe free wild life and absence of restraint in America. Just his luck tothoroughly clear out that wealthy gambler Don Emanuel Garcia, at poker;but then Haggard had all the qualifications for a poker player: he hadthe very luck which he grumbled at; good temper, for your thoroughlyselfish man is far too fond of himself ever to be other thangood-tempered; his "cheek" was unlimited, and in the big "flutter" withthe Mexican, he had also had good cards. Given good luck, good temper,good "cheek," and good cards, a poker player is always invincible; sothe Americans say, and they ought to know. Just his luck to become thepossessor of a large sum of ready cash, when valuable land was goinga-begging; just his luck at that precise moment to invest his easily-gotwinnings in the Mexican ranches and pastures, now worth ten times whatthey cost him. Just his luck to come home at the right moment to beaccepted by the loveliest girl in Essex, a girl whose beauty had noweven received the _imprimatur_ of so fastidious a judge as his RoyalHighness. Just his luck to be adored by his young wife, and looked uponby her as a king of men; to be clothed in purple and fine raiment, withthe possibility of a peerage and the possession of immense wealth in thefuture. But he was quite right in carping at her, for fortune, likeother fickle jades, is more likely to be true if steadily abused.
The two girls, his wife and her cousin, interrupted his soliloquy. Thegaieties of the season had, if possible, rendered Georgie's beautystill more perfect. A succession of _recherche_ entertainments, ofconcerts, balls and routs, and their attendant late hours andexcitement, had given the young wife that almost indefinable stamp ofdelicate refinement for which we have no word, which is so seldom seenin England, and which the Italians call _morbidezza_.
But there was no _morbidezza_ about Lucy; she, too, had shone, perhapswith a certain amount of reflected lustre; but she had shone, she haddazzled. When a very young woman is exceedingly good-looking, no prude,and prepared to go any lengths, being at the same time perfectlyheartless, she is bound to be a success, and Lucy had been a greatsuccess. The Duc de la Houspignolle, the French Ambassador in London,that duke who was so much missed from the cotillions at the Tuileries ofhis imperial mistress, had pronounced Lucy _petillante_. M. Barbiche,his second secretary, the best valseur of the season, had declared thatMiss Warrender was the lightest stepper in town. "She make my heart tobeat as it never beat before," said the young diplomatist to his chief;"but she is not distinguished like her cousin, she is a woman. I thinkher cousin is only a goddess after all. They are cold, these marriedEnglish. I suppose it is the 'spleen.'"
"You'll get back your roses, old woman, at the Castle," said Haggard tohis wife. "I think we've both had about enough of it," said he, as hepoured out a brandy and soda. "I'm getting rather sick of seeing my wifetwirled round like a teetotum by a succession of well-dressed idiots,while twenty more noodles round me are all saying how very charming sheis, and consequently hating and envying me. It's all devilish fine foryou girls, but I really think I shall enjoy a fortnight's dulness andthe counting of possible chickens which may never be hatched at WallsEnd. Anyhow, one will get one's rubber."
"And I shall have two new strings to my bow in the shape of Hetton andhis cousin. By-the by, what is Hetton like? One can't judge of a man ata wedding breakfast," said Lucy.
"Oh, horsey; when you say that you say everything."
"I've a good mind to upset all your plans, Reginald, after all," saidthe girl. "Lady Hetton would look well on my cards. And then I shouldcome in for the Walls End diamonds. By-the-way, are the Walls Enddiamonds black diamonds?"
"Bother Hetton; you've got about as much chance with him as with the oldman, my dear," for it annoyed Haggard to see the slightest cloud to hisprospects, even were it no bigger than a man's hand.
"Anyhow, there are two bachelors, Reginald, besides his lordship, who ishardly a bachelor, being, I suppose, wedded to art."
"Oh! three, my dear; you have forgotten my father; he, too, is aged, butimpressionable. If you'll only talk about pigs, Lucy, and manifest anintelligent interest, especially in black ones, you can put my nose outof joint most effectually!"
"I should make a stern stepmother, Reginald."
"Of course, _injusta noverca_, and all the rest of it, I suppose. Idon't know about the sternness, my dear, but I can answer for thecrispness."
"Thank you for nothing, Reginald; however, I shall certainly take a dipin the lucky-bag at the Castle."
"By Jove, Lucy! there's Wolff for you."
"And who is Wolff?" asked his wife.
"Wolff, my dear, is the toad-eater. In the old days every great man kepta toad-eater; sometimes his functions were highly paid--Wolff's are, Ifancy. A dish of toads of the largest and most repulsive variety used tobe offered one by one to the big man's relatives and guests. A goodmany would partake of them. It was the toad-eater's office to devour theremainder with apparent gusto."
"Reginald, you're a wretch! and I don't believe a word of it," saidLucy.
Haggard yawned, drained his glass, and they retired to preparethemselves for the journey to Walls End Castle, which was to take placeon the morrow.
Lord Pit Town was determined, on this occasion at least, to breakthrough the rule which he had stringently observed since his return toWalls End Castle. For many years no lady had graced the great old housewith her presence. It was considerably to Justice Haggard's astonishmentthat he heard of the invitation to his son and his son's wife. "Hettonwon't like it," he muttered to himself, as with the point of his stickhe gently titillated the back of one of his favourite black pigs. Theanimal stood perfectly still, grunting with suppressed delight. "Hettonwill be decidedly savage," mused the old gentleman. "I wonder whetherReginald will get something in the will?" pondered his father, his eyesfixed on the black pig's ears. "He's a lucky beggar, Reginald, a verylucky beggar, and Warrender's daughter is more than he deserves." Fewfathers think that any woman is more than their son deserves,particularly when that son is an only son, wealthy, and a possible heirto a peerage; but we may take it that Justice Haggard knew pretty wellwhat his son deserved, and that when he considered Georgie "more thanhis son deserved," Justice Haggard was probably right. If the prodigalreally had his deserts he would still be chewing husks with the Mexicanswine--husks which the magnificent specimen of the porcine race who wasso delightedly submitting to the caresses of the Justice's stick woulddoubtlessly have indignantly rejected. "I wonder why," continued themeditating Justice, "Hetton don't marry?" Perhaps Mademoiselle Zizine,of the French theatre, was the reason--who knows? Hetton didn't go intosociety, not that society wouldn't have been very glad to receive LordHetton, being Lord Hetton, even if he had been a Siamese twin or aSpotted Boy, which he wasn't. But Lord Hetton found that society costmoney, and only placed an additional barrier between him and the objectof his ambition--the blue ribbon of the turf. Hence when Lord Hettonsought distraction from race meetings and Tattersall's, he found it inthe society of Mademoiselle Zizine and her like.
Evidently the question of why Hetton didn't marry perplexed the Justice;he paused in his attentions to the pig; the
animal, who was black butcomely, missing the accustomed caress, gave a little snort ofimpatience. "Bother Hetton!" said the Justice, administering a suddenand unexpected prod to that tender but irritable skin. The injured andindignant animal gave vent to a succession of eldritch screams. Thecallous Justice passed on to the next stye, immersed in thought.
Great were the preparations at Walls End Castle, and greater still theastonishment of the old housekeeper when she heard that the winter houseparty was to be graced with the presence of ladies. Not that what weretermed the state apartments were in any way disturbed. The old showrooms were left to the mice and ghosts, but the more modern suites wereall to be occupied. My lady's own rooms had been allotted to Haggard andhis wife. The rather Spartan simplicity of the late Lady Pit Town hadmade her own rooms sombre, if not grim. It had been a labour of lovewith the old lord to change all this. The aesthetic gentleman Messrs.Spick and Span, the great upholsterers, had sent down, had been severelysnubbed by Dr. Wolff; the upholsterer had submitted elaborate colouredpictures of his idea, his firm's idea, of what a suite of rooms shouldbe. Part of that idea was sham _bric-a-brac_, the rest was _carteblanche_ to Messrs. Spick and Span. "We should like," said thatwell-dressed and self-satisfied individual, "to turn out a job worthy ofour house's reputation and that of his lordship. We should suggest thatthe boudoir be hung with Japanese embroideries; of course, there wouldbe an Aubusson carpet, and we should cover the whole flooring"--whichMr. Veneer contemptuously indicated with his umbrella--"with our patent_parquet_; probably a mediaeval pattern would be the most suitable. Weshould restore the ceiling and liven up the mouldings with a free use ofgold; in fact, my advice in the matter is, that his lordship shouldplace himself entirely in our hands. Of course, money's no object. Hislordship cannot do better than to rely upon the taste of our Mr.Spick."
"I do not think it shall be so, my friend," Wolff had replied. "You willput fresh and pretty papers on the walls. Your hangings must be ofchintz, of pretty chintz, and you will put a cheerful carpet on thefloor. As for furniture, there is plenty of that here, but the chairsand the sofas you shall provide; one thing only you shall remember--theyshall be comfortable. His lordship will sit in every chair; if it is notcomfortable it will go back. As for the ceiling you shall not touchhim."
Messrs. Spick and Span's representative was wounded in his tenderestpoint, but his firm carried out the order to the letter. The old lordhad sat in each chair and was satisfied. The ceiling, which representedthe triumph of Venus, by Verrio, was left untouched. If we werepermitted to penetrate the secret mysteries of the bedchamber, we shouldmake the reader's mouth water by telling of the toilet table, which wasstamped "Riesener," and bore the mark, "_Meubles de la reine_." Weshould tell of the ormolu mounts of the little table, and how it reallyonce belonged to Marie Antoinette. All the decorative furniture of thissuite of rooms had been carefully selected by the old lord from the vastaccumulation of such things that Walls End Castle contained. For severalweeks he and Dr. Wolff had pottered about the set of rooms that were tobe graced by Georgie's presence. When, to Wolff's astonishment, thepriceless Meissonier, "The Gray Musketeer," was selected as the onepicture to adorn the boudoir, he attempted a remonstrance.
"Nothing can be too good for her, Wolff," said the earl, as he smiledupon the picture.
Other rooms had been set apart for Lucy, but their arrangement had beenleft to Wolff.
It was evident to the German doctor that his patron looked forward tohis great-niece's visit with pleasure. On the day of her arrival, forthe first time in his life, Lord Pit Town failed to visit the newgalleries.
At dinner, Hetton himself was surprised at the amount of attention paidto Georgie by the head of the house. Haggard did not attempt to concealhis satisfaction. Lucy Warrender, ever ready for mischief, feigned anintense interest in racing matters, but failed to draw Lord Hetton. Thatguileless bachelor, Mr. Haggard, of the Home Office, proved moreamenable to her fascinations; he knew that he should get his rubberafter dinner, and Miss Warrender's conversation helped to while away thetime until what was to him the real business of life should commence. Asfor the Justice he was in the best of humours, he enjoyed his dinner, heenjoyed his wine. But the '34 port was so good that he revoked twice, tothe indignation and despair of his unhappy brother and partner.
The girls sang to the old man at his express desire, and Hetton noticedwith a feeling of secret indignation that the antiquated Broadwood grandhad been replaced by a magnificent Erard.
The place seemed changed. Lord Pit Town appreciated with mingledpleasure and astonishment the brightening influence of the ladies'presence; the party, if not gay, was at least cheerful; the littleleaven had leavened the whole lump. They broke up early, satisfied withthemselves and with each other. But Hetton's equanimity was againdisturbed in the morning when his lordship actually proposed to driveMrs. Haggard and her cousin in the park. He retired in disgust to hisown quarters, where he consoled himself by the inspection of his bettingbook and the reading of his trainer's last report. Haggard, of the HomeOffice, in his own room, with two packs of cards, worked out historicalgames of whist and studied the _coups_ of Lachapelle and the othergreat masters. Dr. Wolff walked aimlessly up and down the newgalleries, and stopping before Bab Chudleigh's portrait, soliloquized,as is the manner of his race, "Ah, lovely English woman, you are but abainted bortrait, but all men admired you because they could not helpit; if all they say be true, Madame Jezebel, you were as bad a woman aslived in your bad old days. Gott in Himmel! but you are very like theleetel Warrender lady. God forbid the leetel lady shall have a heartlike yours. No, I wrong that innocent English _maedchen_. But you areboth _wunderschoen_. Hein!" And then the doctor continued hisperambulations, and in his dreamy way, he pondered on Lucy's seraphicsmile, and on her wealth of golden hair. "Such things are not for me,"he thought. "I must go on loving the baintings and the bortraits to theend of the chapter," and then he sat down to write a business letterabout Fra Filippo Lippi to old Mr. Creeps. Justice Haggard and his sonwandered about the home farm; the father criticized the piggeries,while the son smoked a big cigar and thought of nothing at all.
"Gad! Reginald," said the old man, "there's one thing I can'tunderstand. Pit Town, who looks after most things, neglects these poorbeasts in a most shameful way; if ever I came into the title I shouldmake it my first business to pull down the whole range of buildings,"here he indicated the piggeries in an indignant manner; "they are adisgrace to the place, sir; the sight of them offends me."
"Well, father, I hope you may, I sincerely hope you may carry out yourown ideas here some day," said the dutiful son; "but I don't think theold man cares very much for your hobby, you know."
"Then he neglects his duties, that's all," replied the old gentlemanwith an indignant snort. "Of course, Pit Town's in the fashion," hecontinued, "for we hear about nothing but art now-a-days; but I shouldlike to know where he benefits his race. His ambition is a purelyselfish one, while mine is distinctly benevolent. The dream of my life,Reginald, is unrealizable. I know that I can never succeed in producingthe being I see in my dreams, a perfectly boneless pig; a sort ofanimated sausage, where fat and lean shall be deliciously blended in therequisite proportions. I know I strive after the unattainable, but stillevery year I get nearer and nearer to the goal. When I remember, sir,what black pigs were when I was a boy, and what they are now, thanks tomy efforts and those of the noble little band of enthusiasts likemyself, I feel that I am leaving a lasting monument behind me. Why, onlyyesterday, sir, when Dr. Wolff pointed out to me what he called aspecimen of George Morland's best manner, I felt what giant strides ofprogress we have made. There were the pigs of _his_ day, represented asgreat gaunt bony bristly creatures, wallowing at large, sir, in muck andmire. We never see such horrors now; and I actually envied Pit Town thepossession of that picture. I should like to hang it up, sir, in mypiggeries at The Priory, that the world might look upon what the animalwas, and in contrasting him with the superb creatures I possess,appreciate w
hat can be done by care, breeding, feeding, and properselection. The time will come, Reginald, when every English speaking manor woman who puts a piece of pork or bacon into his mouth will bless thename of Haggard. But these are but ambitious dreams, Reginald, neverperhaps to be realized."
The party at Walls End Castle, though its elements were decidedlyheterogeneous, was a success. Everybody was sorry to go when they left,and their host regretted the departure of his visitors.
"The place seems quite dull without them, Wolff," he remarked. "I thinkI shall try to see more of my relatives, but we must make up for losttime, Wolff. Why, since the ladies have been here we have neglectedwork shamefully."
"It has been a pleasant time, Lord Pit Town, for me, for I loveenthusiasm in the young. It has never yet been my fortune to meet withso delightful and innocent a thirst for information as that displayed bythe charming Miss Warrender. The soul's confessions of that dear younglady were delightful in their naive innocence. She has learnt muchduring her stay here of the canons of true art; it will be to me anever-to-be-remembered epoch."
The old lord looked up from the great manuscript catalogue _raisonne_ atthe German doctor.
"So she made a fool of you too, Wolff, did she?"
"My lord, she respected me too much to attempt to make a fool of me.She, the young neophyte, recognized in me a humble priest of art."
"Ah, Wolff," said the old lord with a look at the great portrait ofBarbara Chudleigh, "there are some women who don't even respect doctorsof philosophy."