CHAPTER I.
_'If She Be Not Fair For Me.'_
THE day after the arrival of the Duke of St. James at Cleve Park,his host, Sir Lucius Grafton, received the following note from Mrs.Dallington Vere:
'Castle Dacre,-------, 182--.
'My dear Baronet,
'Your pigeon has flown, otherwise I should have tied this under hiswing, for I take it for granted he is trained too dexterously to alightanywhere but at Cleve.
'I confess that in this affair your penetration has exceeded mine.I hope throughout it will serve you as well. I kept my promise, andarrived here only a few hours after him. The prejudice which I had longobserved in the little Dacre against your protege was too markedto render any interference on my part at once necessary, nor did Ianticipate even beginning to give her good advice for a month to come.Heaven knows what a month of his conduct might have done! A monthachieves such wonders! And, to do him justice, he was most agreeable;but our young gentleman grew impetuous, and so the day before yesterdayhe vanished, and in the most extraordinary manner! Sudden departure,unexpected business, letter and servants both left behind; Monsieurgrave, and a little astonished; and the demoiselle thoughtful at theleast, but not curious. Very suspicious this last circumstance! A flashcrossed my mind, but I could gain nothing, even with my most dexterouswiles, from the little Dacre, who is a most unmanageable heroine.However, with the good assistance of a person who in a French tragedywould figure as my confidante, and who is the sister of your Lachen,something was learnt from Monsieur le valet, to say nothing of the page.All agree; a countenance pale as death, orders given in a low voiceof suppressed passion and sundry oaths. I hear he sulked the night atRosemount.
'Now, my good Lucy, listen to me. Lose no time about the great object.If possible, let this autumn be distinguished. You have an idea that ourfriend is a very manageable sort of personage; in phrase less courteous,is sufficiently weak for all reasonable purposes. I am not quite soclear about this. He is at present very young, and his character isnot formed; but there is a something about him which makes me half fearthat, if you permit his knowledge of life to increase too much, you mayquite fear having neglected my admonitions. At present his passions arehigh. Use his blood while it is hot, and remember that if you count onhis rashness you may, as nearly in the present instance, yourself rueit. In a word, despatch. The deed that is done, you know--
'My kindest remembrances to dear Lady Afy, and tell her how muchI regret I cannot avail myself of her most friendly invitation.Considering, as I know, she hates me, I really do feel flattered.
'You cannot conceive what Vandals I am at present among! Nothing but mysincere regard for you, my much-valued friend, would induce me to stayhere a moment. I have received from the countenance of the Dacres allthe benefit which a marked connection with so respectable and so morala family confers, and I am tired to death. But it is a well-devised planto have a reserve in the battles of society. You understand me; and Iam led to believe that it has had the best effect, and silenced even theloudest. "Confound their politics!" as dear little Squib says, from whomI had the other day the funniest letter, which I have half a mind tosend you, only you figure in it so much!
'Burlington is at Brighton, and all my friends, except yourself. Ihave a few barbarians to receive at Dallington, and then I shall be offthere. Join us as quickly as you can. Do you know, I think that it wouldbe an excellent _locale_ for the _scena_. We might drive them over toDieppe: only do not put off your visit too long, or else there will beno steamers.
'The Duke of Shropshire has had a fit, but rallied. He vows he was onlypicking up a letter, or tying his shoestring, or something of that kind;but Ruthven says he dined off _boudins a la Sefton_, and that, after acertain age, you know--
'Lord Darrell is with Annesley and Co. I understand, most friendlytowards me, which is pleasant; and Charles, who is my firm ally, takescare to confirm the kind feeling. I am glad about this.
'Felix Crawlegh, or Crawl_ey_, as some say, has had an affair with TommySeymour, at Grant's. Felix was grand about porter, or something, whichhe never drank, and all that. Tommy, Who knew nothing about the brewingfather, asked him, very innocently, why malt liquors had so degenerated.Conceive the agony, particularly as Lady Selina is said to have noviolent aversion to quartering her arms with a mash-tub, argent.
'The Macaronis are most hospitable this year; and the Marquess says thatthe only reason that they kept in before was because he was determinedto see whether economy was practicable. He finds it is not; so nowexpense is no object.
'Augustus Henley is about to become a senator! What do you think ofthis? He says he has tried everything for an honest livelihood, and evenonce began a novel, but could not get on; which, Squib says, is odd,because there is a receipt going about for that operation which savesall trouble:
'"Take a pair of pistols and a pack of cards, a cookery-book and aset of new quadrilles; mix them up with half an intrigue and a wholemarriage, and divide them into three equal portions." Now, as Augustushas both fought and gamed, dined and danced, I suppose it was themorality which posed him, or perhaps the marriage.
'They say there is something about Lady Flutter, but, I should think,all talk. Most probably a report set about by her Ladyship. Lord Flamehas been blackballed, that is certain. But there is no more news, exceptthat the Wiltshires are going to the Continent: we know why; and thatthe Spankers are making more dash than ever: God knows how! Adieu!
'B. D. V.'
The letter ended; all things end at last. A she-correspondent for ourmoney; provided always that she does not _cross_.
Our Duke--in spite of his disgrace, he still is ours, and yours too, Ihope, gentlest reader--our Duke found himself at Cleve Park again, in adifferent circle from the one to which he had been chiefly accustomed.The sporting world received him with open arms. With some of theseworthies, as owner of Sanspareil, he had become slightly acquainted.But what is half a morning at Tattersall's, or half a week at Doncaster,compared with a meeting at Newmarket? There your congenial spiritscongregate. Freemasons every man of them! No uninitiated wretch theredares to disturb, with his profane presence, the hallowed mysteries.There the race is not a peg to hang a few days of dissipation on, buta sacred ceremony, to the celebration of which all men and allcircumstances tend and bend. No balls, no concerts, no publicbreakfasts, no bands from Litolf, no singers from Welsh, no pineapplesfrom Gunter, are there called for by thoughtless thousands, who havemet, not from any affection for the turfs delights or their neighbour'scash, but to sport their splendid liveries and to disport their showyselves.
The house was full of men, whose talk was full of bets. The women werenot as bad, but they were not plentiful. Some lords and signors werethere without their dames. Lord Bloomerly, for instance, alone, orrather with his eldest son, Lord Bloom, just of age, and already aknowing hand. His father introduced him to all his friends with thatsmiling air of self-content which men assume when they introduce ayouth who may show the world what they were at his years; so the Earlpresented the young Viscount as a lover presents his miniature to hismistress. Lady Afy shone in unapproached perfection. A dull Marchioness,a _gauche_ Viscountess, and some other dames, who did not look like thechorus of this Diana, acted as capital foils, and permitted her to meether cavalier under what are called the most favourable auspices.
They dined, and discussed the agricultural interest in all its exhaustedramifications. Wheat was sold over again, even at a higher price;poachers were recalled to life, or from beyond seas, to be re-killed orre-transported. The poor-laws were a very rich topic, and the poor landsa very ruinous one. But all this was merely the light conversation, justto vary, in an agreeable mode, which all could understand, the regularmaterial of discourse, and that was of stakes and stallions, pedigreesand plates.
Our party rose early, for their pleasure was their business. Here wereno lounging dandies and no exclusive belles, who kept their bowers untilhunger, which also drives down wolves from the Pyre
nees, brought themfrom their mystical chambers to luncheon and to life. In short, anair of interest, a serious and a thoughtful look, pervaded everycountenance. Fashion was kicked to the devil, and they were all too muchin earnest to have any time for affectation. Breakfast was over, andit was a regular meal at which all attended, and they hurried tothe course. It seems, when the party arrive, that they are the onlyspectators. A party or two come on to keep them company. A clubdischarges a crowd of gentlemen, a stable a crowd of grooms. At lengtha sprinkling of human beings is collected, but all is wondrous still andwondrous cold. The only thing that gives sign of life is Lord Breedall'smovable stand; and the only intimation that fire is still an element isthe sailing breath of a stray cigar.
'This, then, is Newmarket!' exclaimed the young Duke. 'If it requiredfive-and-twenty thousand pounds to make Doncaster amusing, a plum, atleast, will go in rendering Newmarket endurable.'
But the young Duke was wrong. There was a fine race, and theconnoisseurs got enthusiastic. Sir Lucius Grafton was the winner. TheDuke sympathised with his friend's success.
He began galloping about the course, and his blood warmed. He paid avisit to Sanspareil. He heard his steed was still a favourite for acoming race. He backed his steed, and Sanspareil won. He began to findNewmarket not so disagreeable. In a word, our friend was in an entirelynew scene, which was exactly the thing he required. He was interested,and forgot, or rather forcibly expelled from his mind, his lateoverwhelming adventure. He grew popular with the set. His courteousmanners, his affable address, his gay humour, and the facility withwhich he adopted their tone and temper, joined with his rank and wealth,subdued the most rugged and the coldest hearts. Even the jockeys werecivil to him, and welcomed him with a sweet smile and gracious nod,instead of the sour grin and malicious wink with which those charactersgenerally greet a stranger; those mysterious characters who, in theirinfluence over their superiors, and their total want of sympathy withtheir species, are our only match for the oriental eunuch.
He grew, we say, popular with the set. They were glad to see among thema young nobleman of spirit. He became a member of the Jockey Club, andtalked of taking a place in the neighbourhood. All recommended thestep, and assured him of their readiness to dine with him as often ashe pleased. He was a universal favourite; and even Chuck Farthing,the gentleman jockey, with a cock-eye and a knowing shake of his head,squeaked out, in a sporting treble, one of his monstrous fudges aboutthe Prince in days of yore, and swore that, like his Royal Highness, theyoung Duke made the Market all alive.
The heart of our hero was never insensible to flattery. He could notrefrain from comparing his present with his recent situation. Theconstant consideration of all around him, the affectionate cordiality ofSir Lucius, and the unobtrusive devotion of Lady Afy, melted his soul.These agreeable circumstances graciously whispered to him each hour thathe could scarcely be the desolate and despicable personage which lately,in a moment of madness, he had fancied himself. He began to indulge thesatisfactory idea, that a certain person, however unparalleled in formand mind, had perhaps acted with a little precipitation. Then his eyesmet those of Lady Aphrodite; and, full of these feelings, he exchanged alook which reminded him of their first meeting; though now, mellowed bygratitude, and regard, and esteem, it was perhaps even more delightful.He was loved, and he was loved by an exquisite being, who was the objectof universal admiration. What could he desire more? Nothing but thewilfulness of youth could have induced him for a moment to contemplatebreaking chains which had only been formed to secure his felicity. Hedetermined to bid farewell for ever to the impetuosity of youth. Hehad not been three days under the roof of Cleve before he felt that hishappiness depended upon its fairest inmate. You see, then, that absenceis not always fatal to love!