Framley Parsonage (51 page)

‘There will, I presume, be another variation at feeding time,’ said Mrs Harold Smith.

‘Oh, yes; certainly; I am the most vulgar of all wretches in that respect. I do love to set people
eating and drinking. – Mr Supplehouse, I am delighted to see you; but do tell me –’ and then she whispered with great energy into the ear of Mr Supplehouse, and Mr Supplehouse again whispered into her ear. ‘You think he will, then?’ said Miss Dunstable.

Mr Supplehouse assented; he did think so; but he had no warrant for stating the circumstance as a fact. And then he passed on, hardly looking
at Mrs Harold Smith as he passed.

‘What a hang-dog countenance he has,’ said that lady.

‘Ah! You’re prejudiced, my dear, and no wonder; as for myself I always liked Supplehouse. He means mischief; but then mischief is his trade, and he does not conceal it. If I were a politician I should as soon think of being angry with Mr Supplehouse for turning against me as I am now with a pin for pricking
me. It’s my own awkwardness, and I ought to have known how to use the pin more craftily.’

‘But you must detest a man who professes to stand by his party, and then does his best to ruin it.’

‘So many have done that, my dear; and with much more success than Mr Supplehouse! All is fair in love and war, – why not add politics to the list? If we could only agree to do that, it would
save us from
such a deal of heartburning, and would make none of us a bit the worse.’

Miss Dunstable’s rooms, large as they were – ‘a noble suite of rooms certainly, though perhaps a little too – too – too scattered, we will say, eh, bishop?’ – were now nearly full, and would have been inconveniently crowded, were it not that many who came only remained for half-an-hour or so. Space, however, had been kept
for the dancers – much to Mrs Proudie’s consternation. Not that she disapproved of dancing in London, as a rule; but she was indignant that the laws of a conversazione, as re-established by herself in the fashionable world, should be so violently infringed.

‘Conversaziones will come to mean nothing,’ she said to the bishop, putting great stress on the latter word, ‘nothing at all, if they are
to be treated in this way.’

‘No, they won’t; nothing in the least,’ said the bishop.

‘Dancing may be very well in its place,’ said Mrs Proudie.

‘I have never objected to it myself; that is, for the laity,’ said the bishop.

‘But when people profess to assemble for higher objects,’ said Mrs Proudie, ‘they ought to act up to their professions.’

‘Otherwise they are no better than hypocrites,’
said the bishop.

‘A spade should be called a spade,’ said Mrs Proudie.

‘Decidedly,’ said the bishop, assenting.

‘And when I undertook the trouble and expense of introducing conversaziones,’ continued Mrs Proudie, with an evident feeling that she had been ill-used, ‘I had no idea of seeing the word so – so – so misinterpreted;’ and then observing certain desirable acquaintances at the other
side of the room, she went across, leaving the bishop to fend for himself.

Lady Lufton, having achieved her success, passed on to the dancing, whither it was not probable that her enemy would follow her, and she had not been there very long before she was joined by her son. Her heart at the present moment was not quite satisfied at the state of affairs with reference to Griselda. She had gone
so far as to tell her young friend what were her own wishes; she had declared her desire that Griselda should become her daughter-in-law; but in answer to this Griselda herself had
declared nothing. It was, to be sure, no more than natural that a young lady so well brought up as Miss Grantly should show no signs of a passion till she was warranted in showing them by the proceedings of the gentleman;
but notwithstanding this – fully aware as she was of the propriety of such reticence – Lady Lufton did think that to her Griselda might have spoken some word evincing that the alliance would be satisfactory to her. Griselda, however, had spoken no such word, nor had she uttered a syllable to show that she would accept Lord Lufton if he did offer. Then again she had uttered no syllable to show
that she would not accept him; but, nevertheless, although she knew that the world had been talking about her and Lord Dumbello, she stood up to dance with the future marquis on every possible occasion. All this did give annoyance to Lady Lufton, who began to bethink herself that if she could not quickly bring her little plan to a favourable issue, it might be well for her to wash her hands of
it. She was still anxious for the match on her son’s account. Griselda would, she did not doubt, make a good wife; but Lady Lufton was not so sure as she once had been that she herself would be able to keep up so strong a feeling for her daughter-in-law as she had hitherto hoped to do.

‘Ludovic, have you been here long?’ she said, smiling as she always did smile when her eyes fell upon her son’s
face.

‘This instant arrived; and I hurried on after you, as Miss Dunstable told me that you were here. What a crowd she has! Did you see Lord Brock?’

‘I did not observe him.’

‘Or Lord De Terrier? I saw them both in the centre room.’

‘Lord De Terrier did me the honour of shaking hands with me as I passed through.’

‘I never saw such a mixture of people. There is Mrs Proudie going out of her
mind because you are all going to dance.’

‘The Miss Proudies dance,’ said Griselda Grantly.

‘But not at conversaziones. You don’t see the difference. And I saw Spermoil there, looking as pleased as Punch. He had quite a circle of his own round him, and was chattering away as though he were quite accustomed to the wickednesses of the world.’

‘There certainly are people here whom one would not
have wished to meet, had one thought of it,’ said Lady Lufton, mindful of her late engagement.

‘But it must be all right, for I walked up the stairs with the archdeacon. That is an absolute proof; is it not, Miss Grantly?’

‘I have no fears. When I am with your mother I know I must be safe.’

‘I am not so sure of that,’ said Lord Lufton, laughing. ‘Mother, you hardly know the worst of it yet.
Who is here, do you think?’

‘I know whom you mean; I have seen him,’ said Lady Lufton, very quietly.

‘We came across him just at the top of the stairs,’ said Griselda, with more animation in her face than ever Lord Lufton had seen there before.

‘What; the duke?’

‘Yes, the duke,’ said Lady Lufton. ‘I certainly should not have come had I expected to be brought in contact with that man. But it
was an accident, and on such an occasion as this it could not be helped.’

Lord Lufton at once perceived, by the tone of his mother’s voice and by the shades of her countenance that she had absolutely endured some personal encounter with the duke, and also that she was by no means so indignant at the occurrence as might have been expected. There she was, still in Miss Dunstable’s house, and expressing
no anger as to Miss Dunstable’s conduct. Lord Lufton could hardly have been more surprised had he seen the duke handing his mother down to supper; he said, however, nothing further on the subject.

‘Are you going to dance, Ludovic?’ said Lady Lufton.

‘Well, I am not sure that I do not agree with Mrs Proudie in thinking that dancing would contaminate a conversazione. What are your ideas, Miss
Grantly?’

Griselda was never very good at a joke, and imagined that Lord Lufton wanted to escape the trouble of dancing with her. This angered her. For the only species of love-making, or flirtation, or sociability between herself as a young lady, and any other self as a young gentleman, which recommended itself to her taste, was to be found in the amusement of dancing. She was altogether
at
variance with Mrs Proudie on this matter, and gave Miss Dunstable great credit for her innovation. In society Griselda’s toes were more serviceable to her than her tongue, and she was to be won by a rapid twirl much more probably than by a soft word. The offer of which she would approve, would be conveyed by two all but breathless words during a spasmodic pause in a waltz; and then as she lifted up
her arm to receive the accustomed support at her back, she might just find power enough to say, ‘You – must ask – papa.’ After that she would not care to have the affair mentioned till everything was properly settled.

‘I have not thought about it,’ said Griselda, turning her face away from Lord Lufton.

It must not, however, be supposed that Miss Grantly had not thought about Lord Lufton, or
that she had not considered how great might be the advantage of having Lady Lufton on her side if she made up her mind that she did wish to become Lord Lufton’s wife. She knew well that now was her time for a triumph, now in this very first season of her acknowledged beauty; and she knew also that young, good-looking bachelor lords do not grow on hedges like blackberries. Had Lord Lufton offered to
her, she would have accepted him at once without any remorse as to the greater glories which might appertain to a future Marchioness of Hartletop. In that direction she was not without sufficient wisdom. But then Lord Lufton had not offered to her, nor given any signs that he intended to do so; and to give Griselda Grantly her due, she was not a girl to make a first overture. Neither had Lord Dumbello
offered; but he had given signs, – dumb signs, such as birds give to each other, quite as intelligible as verbal signs to a girl who preferred the use of her toes to that of her tongue.

‘I have not thought about it,’ said Griselda, very coldly, and at that moment a gentleman stood before her and asked her hand for the next dance. It was Lord Dumbello; and Griselda, making no reply except by a
slight bow, got up and put her hand within her partner’s arm.

‘Shall I find you here, Lady Lufton, when we have done?’ she said; and then started off among the dancers. When the work before one is dancing the proper thing for a gentleman to do
is, at any rate, to ask a lady; this proper thing Lord Lufton had omitted, and now the prize was taken away from under his very nose.

There was clearly
an air of triumph about Lord Dumbello as he walked away with the beauty. The world had been saying that Lord Lufton was to marry her, and the world had also been saying that Lord Dumbello admired her. Now this had angered Lord Dumbello, and made him feel as though he walked about, a mark of scorn, as a disappointed suitor. Had it not been for Lord Lufton, perhaps he would not have cared so much
for Griselda Grantly; but circumstances had so turned out that he did care for her, and felt it to be incumbent upon him as the heir to a marquisate to obtain what he wanted, let who would have a hankering after the same article. It is in this way that pictures are so well sold at auctions; and Lord Dumbello regarded Miss Grantly as being now subject to the auctioneer’s hammer, and conceived that
Lord Lufton was bidding against him. There was, therefore, an air of triumph about him as he put his arm round Griselda’s waist and whirled her up and down the room in obedience to the music.

Lady Lufton and her son were left together looking at each other. Of course he had intended to ask Griselda to dance, but it cannot be said that he very much regretted his disappointment. Of course also
Lady Lufton had expected that her son and Griselda would stand up together, and she was a little inclined to be angry with her
protégée
.

‘I think she might have waited a minute,’ said Lady Lufton.

‘But why, mother? There are certain things for which no one ever waits: to give a friend, for instance, the first passage through a gate out hunting, and such like. Miss Grantly was quite right to
take the first that offered.’

Lady Lufton had determined to learn what was to be the end of this scheme of hers. She could not have Griselda always with her, and if anything were to be arranged it must be arranged now, while both of them were in London. At the close of the season Griselda would return to Plumstead, and Lord Lufton would go – nobody as yet knew where. It would be useless to look
forward to further opportunities. If they did not contrive
to love each other now, they would never do so. Lady Lufton was beginning to fear that her plan would not work, but she made up her mind that she would learn the truth then and there, – at least, as far as her son was concerned.

‘Oh, yes; quite so; – if it is equal to her with which she dances,’ said Lady Lufton.

‘Quite equal, I should
think – unless it be that Dumbello is longer-winded than I am.’

‘I am sorry to hear you speak of her in that way, Ludovic’

‘Why sorry, mother?’

‘Because I had hoped – that you and she would have liked each other.’ This she said in a serious tone of voice, tender and sad, looking up into his face with a plaintive gaze, as though she knew that she were asking of him some great favour.

‘Yes,
mother, I have known that you have wished that.’

‘You have known it, Ludovic!’

‘Oh, dear, yes; you are not at all sharp at keeping your secrets from me. And, mother, at one time, for a day or so, I thought that I could oblige you. You have been so good to me, that I would almost do anything for you.’

‘Oh, no, no, no,’ she said, deprecating his praise, and the sacrifice which he seemed to offer
of his own hopes and aspirations. ‘I would not for worlds have you do so for my sake. No mother ever had a better son, and my only ambition is for your happiness.’

‘But, mother, she would not make me happy. I was mad enough for a moment to think that she could do so – for a moment I did think so. There was one occasion on which I would have asked her to take me, but –’

‘But what, Ludovic?’

‘Never mind; it passed away; and now I shall never ask her. Indeed I do not think she would have me. She is ambitious, and flying at higher game than I am. And I must say this for her, that she knows well what she is doing, and plays her cards as though she had been born with them in her hand.’

‘You will never ask her?’

‘No, mother; had I done so, it would have been for love of you – only for
love of you.’

‘I would not for worlds that you should do that.’

‘Let her have Dumbello; she will make an excellent wife for him, just the wife that he will want. And you, you will have been so good to her in assisting her to such a matter.’