CHAPTER IX.
IN VERNEY HOUSE.
MR. LARKIN got into his cab, and ordered the cabman, in a loud voice,to drive to Verney House.
"Didn't he know Verney House? He thought every cabman in London knewVerney House! The house of Lord Viscount Verney, in ---- Square. Why itfills up a whole side of it!"
He looked at his watch. He had thirty-seven minutes to reach it in. Itwas partly to get rid of a spare half hour, that he had paid hisunprofitable visit to Rosemary Court.
Mr. Larkin registered a vow to confer no more with Mr. Dingwell. Heeased his feelings by making a note of this resolution in thatvaluable little memorandum book which he carried about with him in hispocket.
"_Saw Mr. Dingwell this day--as usual impracticable and ill-bred to ahopeless degree--waste of time and worse--resolved that this gentlemanbeing inaccessible to reason, is not to be argued, but DEALT with,should occasion hereafter arise for influencing his conduct._"
Somewhere about Temple Bar, Mr. Larkin's cab got locked in a string ofvehicles, and he put his head out of window, not being sorry for anopportunity of astonishing the citizens by calling to the driver--
"I say, my good fellow, can't you get on? I told Lord Verney to expectme at half-past one. Do, pray, get me out of this, _any_ way, and youshall have a gratuity of half-a-crown. Verney House is a good way fromthis. _Do_ try. His lordship will be as much obliged to you as I am."
Mr. Larkin's assiduities and flatteries were, in truth, telling uponLord Verney, with whom he was stealing into a general confidence whichalarmed many people, and which Cleve Verney hated more than ever.
With the pretty mansion of Hazelden, the relations, as Lord Verneywould have said of the House of Ware, were no longer friendly. Thiswas another instance of the fragility of human arrangements, and thevanity of human hopes. The altar had been erected, the swinesacrificed, and the augurs and haruspices on both sides had predictednothing but amity and concord. Game, fruit, and venison, went andcame,--"Much good may it do your good heart." "It was ill-killed,"&c. Master Shallow and Master Page could not have been more courteouson such occasions. But on the _fete champetre_ had descended a suddenprocella. The roses were whirling high in the darkened air, theflatteries and laughter were drowned in thunder, and the fiddles andglasses smashed with hailstones as large as potatoes.
A general election had come and gone, and in that brief civil war oldVane Etherage was found at the wrong side. In Lord Verney's languageneighbour meant something like vassal, and Etherage who had set up hisbanner and arrayed his power on the other side, was a rebel--the lessforgivable that he had, as was authentically demonstrated, by thisstep himself inflicted that defeat in the county which had woundedLord Verney to the quick.
So silence descended upon the interchange of civil speeches; thepartridges and pheasants, winged from Ware in a new direction, and oldVane Etherage stayed his friendly hand also; and those tin cases ofIrish salmon, from the old gentleman's fisheries, packed in ice, asfresh as if they had sprung from the stream only half an hour before,were no longer known at Ware; and those wonderful fresh figs, greenand purple, which Lord Verney affected, for which Hazelden is famous,and which Vane Etherage was fond of informing his guests wereabsolutely unequalled in any part of the known world! England couldnot approach them for bulk and ripeness, nor foreign parts--and he hadeaten figs wherever figs grow--for aroma and flavour, no longercrossed the estuary. Thus this game of beggar-my-neighbour began. LordVerney recalled his birds, and Mr. Etherage withdrew his figs. Mr.Etherage lost his great black grapes; and Lord Verney sacrificed hissalmon, and in due time Lord Verney played a writ, and invited anepisode in a court of law, and another, more formidable, in the Courtof Chancery.
So the issues of the war were knit again, and Vane Etherage was nowinformed by his lawyers there were some very unpleasant questionsmooted affecting the title to the Windermore estate, for which hepayed a trifling rent to the Verneys.
So, when Larkin went into Verney House, he was closeted with its noblemaster for a good while, and returning to a smaller library--devotedto blue books and pamphlets--where he had left a despatch-box andumbrella during his wait for admission to his noble client, he foundCleve busy there.
"Oh, Mr. Larkin. How d'ye do? Anything to say to me?" said thehandsome young man, whose eye looked angry though he smiled.
"Ah, thanks. No--_no_, Mr. Verney. I hope and trust I see you well;but no, I had not any communication to make. Shall I be honoured, Mr.Verney, with any communication from you?"
"I've nothing to say, thanks, except of course to say how much obligedI am for the very particular interest you take in my affairs."
"I should be eminently gratified, Mr. Verney, to merit yourapprobation; but I fear, sir, as yet I can hardly hope to have meritedyour thanks," said Mr. Larkin, modestly.
"You won't let me thank you; but I quite understand the nature andextent of your kindness. My uncle is by no means so reserved, and hehas told me very frankly the care you have been so good as to take ofme. He's more obliged even than I am, and so, I am told, is LadyWimbledon also."
Cleve had said a great deal more than at starting he had at allintended. It would have been easy to him to have dismissed theattorney without allusion to the topic that made him positivelyhateful in his eyes; but it was not easy to hint at it, and quitecommand himself also, and the result illustrated the general fact thattotal abstinence is easier than moderation.
Now the effect of this little speech of Cleve's upon the attorney, wasto abash Mr. Larkin, and positively to confound him, in a degree quiteunusual in a Christian so armed on most occasions with that specialgrace called presence of mind. The blood mounted to his hollow cheeks,and up to the summit of his tall bald head; his eyes took theirrat-like character, and looked dangerously in his for a second, andthen down to the floor, and scanned his own boots; and he bit his lip,and essayed a little laugh, and tried to look innocent, and broke downin the attempt. He cleared his voice once or twice to speak, but saidnothing; and all this time Cleve gave him no help whatsoever, butenjoyed his evident confusion with an angry sneer.
"I hope Mr. Cleve Verney," at length Mr. Larkin began, "where duty andexpediency pull in opposite directions, I shall always be found at theright side."
"The winning side at all events," said Cleve.
"The _right_ side, I venture to repeat. It has been my misfortune tobe misunderstood more than once in the course of my life. It is ourduty to submit to misinterpretation, as to other afflictions,patiently. I hope I have done so. My first duty is to my client."
"_I_'m no client of yours, sir."
"Well, conceding that, sir, to your _uncle_--to Lord _Verney_, I willsay--to his views of what the interests of his house demand, and tohis feelings."
"Lord Verney has been good enough to consult _me_, hitherto, upon thissubject; a not quite unnatural confidence, I venture to think; morethan you seem to suspect. He seems to think, and so do I, that I've avoice in it, and has not left me absolutely in the hands--in a matterof so much importance and delicacy--of his country lawyer."
"I had no power in this case, sir; not even of mentioning the subjectto you, who certainly, in one view, are more or less affected by it."
"Thank you for the concession," sneered Cleve.
"I make it unaffectedly, Mr. Cleve Verney," replied Larkin,graciously.
"My uncle, Lord Verney, has given me leave to talk to you upon thesubject. I venture to decline that privilege. I prefer speaking tohim. He seems to think that _I_ ought to be allowed to advise a littlein the matter, and that with every respect for _his_ wishes; _mine_also are entitled to be a little considered. Should I ever talk toyou, Mr. Larkin, it shan't be to ask your advice. I'm detaining you,sir, and I'm also a little busy myself."
Mr. Larkin looked at the young man a second or two a little puzzled;but encountering only a look of stern impatience, he made his bestbow, and the conference ended.
A few minutes later, in came our old friend, Tom Sedley.
/> "Oh! Sedley! Very glad to see you here; but I thought you did not wantto see my uncle just now; and this is the most likely place, exceptthe library, to meet him in."
"He's gone; I saw him go out this moment. I should not have come inotherwise; and you mustn't send me away, dear Cleve, I'm in such awfultrouble. Everything has gone wrong with us at Hazelden. You know thatquarrying company--the slates, that _odious_ fellow, Larkin, led himinto, before the election and all the other annoyances began."
"You mean the Llanrwyd company?"
"Yes; so I do."
"But that's quite ruined, you know. Sit down."
"I know. He has lost--frightfully--and Mr. Etherage must pay up everso much in calls beside; and unless he can get it on a mortgage of theWindermore estate, he can't possibly pay them--and I've been trying,and the result is just this--they won't lend it anywhere till thelitigation is settled."
"Well, what can I do?" said Cleve, yawning stealthily into his hand,and looking very tired. I am afraid these tragic confidences of TomSedley's did not interest Cleve very much; rather bored him, on thecontrary.
"They won't lend, I say, while this litigation is pending."
"Depend upon it they won't," acquiesced Cleve.
"And in the meantime, you know, Mr. Etherage would be ruined."
"Well, I see; but, I say again, what can I do?"
"I want you to try if anything can be done with Lord Verney," saidTom, beseechingly.
"Talk to my uncle? I wish, dear Tom, you could teach me how to dothat."
"It can't do any harm, Cleve--it can't," urged Tom Sedley, piteously.
"Nor one particle of good. You might as well talk to that picture--Ido assure you, you might."
"But it could be no pleasure to him to ruin Mr. Etherage!"
"I'm not so sure of that; between ourselves, forgiving is not one ofhis weaknesses."
"But I say it's quite impossible--an old family, and liked in thecounty--it would be a scandal for ever!" pleaded Tom Sedley,distractedly.
"Not worse than that business of Booth Fanshawe," said Cleve, lookingdown; "no, he never forgives anything. I don't think he perceives he'staking a revenge; he has not _mind_ enough for repentance," saidCleve, who was not in good humour with his uncle just then.
"Won't you try? you're such an eloquent fellow, and there's really somuch to be said."
"I do assure you, there's no more use than in talking to thechimney-piece; if you make a point of it, of course, I will; but, byJove, you could hardly choose a worse advocate just now, for he'steasing me to do what I _can't_ do. If you heard my miserable story,it would make you laugh; it's like a thing in a _petite comedie_, andit's breaking my heart."
"Well, then, you'll try--won't you try?" said Tom, overlooking hisfriend's description of his own troubles.
"Yes; as you desire it, I'll try; but I don't expect the slightestgood from it, and possibly some mischief," he replied.
"A thousand thanks, my dear Cleve; I'm going down to-night. Would itbe too much to ask you for a line, or, if it's _good_ news, a telegramto Llwynan."
"I may safely promise you that, I'm sorry to say, without risk oftrouble. You mustn't think me unkind, but it would be cruel to letyou hope when there is not, really, a chance."
So Tom drove away to his club, to write his daily love letter to AgnesEtherage, in time for post; and to pen a few lines for old VaneEtherage, and try to speak comfortably to that family, over whosepretty home had gathered so awful a storm.