The Eustace Diamonds (20 page)

‘I am afraid we do not understand each other,' he said at last.

‘Certainly I do not understand you, sir.'

‘Will you allow my mother to speak to you on the subject?'

‘No. If I told your mother to give up her diamonds, what would she say?'

‘But they are not yours, Lady Eustace, unless you will submit that question to an arbitrator.'

‘I will submit nothing to anybody. You have no right to speak on such a subject till after we are married.'

‘I must have it settled first, Lady Eustace.'

‘Then, Lord Fawn, you won't have it settled first. Or rather it is settled already. I shall keep my own necklace, and Mr Camperdown may do anything he pleases. As for you – if you illtreat me, I shall know where to go to.' They had now come out from the shrubbery upon the lawn, and there was the carriage at the door, ready to take the elders of the family to church. Of course in such a condition of affairs it would be understood that Lizzie was one of the elders.

‘I shall not go to church now,' she said, as she advanced across the lawn towards the hall door. ‘You will be pleased, Lord Fawn, to let your mother know that I am detained. I do not suppose that you will dare to tell he why.' Then she sailed round at the back of the carriage and entered the hall, in which several of the girls were standing. Among them was Augusta, waiting to take her seat among the elders; – but Lizzie passed on through them all, without a word, and marched up to her bedroom.

‘Oh, Frederic, what is the matter?' asked Augusta, as soon as her brother entered the house.

‘Never mind. Nothing is the matter. You had better go to church. Where is my mother?'

At this moment Lady Fawn appeared at the bottom of the stairs, having passed Lizzie as she was coming down. Not a syllable had then been spoken, but Lady Fawn at once knew that much was wrong. Her son went up to her and whispered a word in her ear. ‘Oh, certainly,' she said, desisting from the operation of pulling on her gloves. ‘Augusta, neither your brother nor I will go to church.'

‘Nor – Lady Eustace?'

‘It seems not,' said Lady Fawn.

‘Lady Eustace will not go to church,' said Lord Fawn.

‘And where is Lucy?' asked Lydia.

‘She will not go to church either,' said Lady Fawn. ‘I have just been with her.'

‘Nobody is going to church,' said Nina. ‘All the same, I shall go by myself.'

‘Augusta, my dear, you and the girls had better go. You can
take the carriage of course.' But Augusta and the girls chose to walk, and the carriage was sent round into the yard.

‘There's a rumpus already between my lord and the young missus,' said the coachman to the groom; – for the coachman had seen the way in which Lady Eustace had returned to the house. And there certainly was a rumpus. During the whole morning Lord Fawn was closeted with his mother, and then he went away to London without saying a word to any one of the family. But he left this note for Lady Eustace.

‘I cannot tell,' sad Lucy. ‘Perhaps he did. I think he said so. I think he cared more to see me.' Then Lady Fawn was obliged to express her opinion, and she did so, uttering many words of wisdom. Frank Greystock, had he intended to sacrifice his prospects by a disinterested marriage, would have spoken out before now. He was old enough to have made up his mind on such a subject, and he had not spoken out. He did not mean marriage. That was quite evident to Lady Fawn; – and her dear Lucy was revelling in hopes which would make her miserable. If Lucy could only have known of the letter, which was already her own property though lying in the pillar letter-box in Fleet Street, and which had not already been sent down and delivered simply because it was Sunday morning! But she was very brave. ‘He does love me,' she said. ‘He told me so.'

‘Oh, Lucy; – that is worse and worse. A man to tell you that he loves you, and yet not ask you to be his wife!'

‘I am contented,' said Lucy. That assertion, however, could hardly have been true.

‘Contented! And did you tell him that you returned his love?'

‘He knew it without my telling him,' said Lucy. It was so hard upon her that she should be so interrogated while that letter was lying in the iron box!

‘Dear Lucy, this must not be,' said Lady Fawn. ‘You are preparing for yourself inexpressible misery.'

‘I have done nothing wrong, Lady Fawn.'

‘No, my dear; – no. I do not say you have been wrong. But I think he is wrong – so wrong! I call it wicked. I do indeed. For your own sake you should endeavour to forget him.'

‘I will never forget him!' said Lucy. ‘To think of him is everything to me. He told me I was his Queen, and he shall be my King. I will be loyal to him always.' To poor Lady Fawn this was very dreadful. The girl persisted in declaring her love for the man, yet did not even pretend to think that the man meant to marry her! And this, too, was Lucy Morris – of whom Lady Fawn was accustomed to say to her intimate friends that she had altogether ceased to look upon her as a governess. ‘Just one of ourselves, Mrs Winslow – and almost as dear as one of my own girls!' Thus, in the warmth of her heart, she had described Lucy to a neighbour within the last week. Many more words of wisdom she spoke, and then she left poor Lucy in no mood for church. Would she have been in a better mood for the morning service had she known of the letter in the iron post?

Then Lady Fawn had put on her bonnet and gone down into the hall, and the ‘rumpus' had come. After that, everybody in the house knew that all things were astray. When the girls came home from church, their brother was gone. Half an hour before dinner Lady Fawn sent the note up to Lizzie, with a message to say that they would dine at three – it being Sunday. Lizzie sent down word that she was unwell, she would ask to have just a cup of tea and ‘something' sent to her own room. If Lady Fawn would allow her, she would remain upstairs with her child. She always made use of her child when troubles came.

The afternoon was very sad and dreary. Lady Fawn had an interview with Lady Eustace, but Lizzie altogether refused to listen to any advice on the subject of the necklace. ‘It is an affair,' she said haughtily, ‘in which I must judge for myself – or with the advice of my own particular friends. Had Lord Fawn waited until we were married; then indeed –!'

‘But that would have been too late,' said Lady Fawn severely.

‘He is at any rate premature now in laying his commands upon me,' said Lizzie. Lady Fawn, who was perhaps more anxious that
the marriage should be broken off than that the jewels should be restored, then withdrew; and as she left the room Lizzie clasped her boy to her bosom. ‘He, at any rate, is left to me,' she said. Lucy and the Fawn girls went to evening church, and afterward Lizzie came down among them when they were at tea. Before she went to bed Lizzie declared her intention of returning to her own house in Mount Street on the following day. To this Lady Fawn of course made no objection.

On the next morning there came an event which robbed Lizzie's departure of some of the importance which might otherwise have been attached to it. The post-office, with that accuracy in the performance of its duties for which it is conspicuous among all offices, caused Lucy's letter to be delivered to her while the members of the family were sitting round the breakfast table. Lizzie, indeed, was not there. She had expressed her intention of breakfasting in her own room, and had requested that a conveyance might be ready to take her to the 11.30 train. Augusta had been with her, asking whether anything could be done for her. ‘I care for nothing now, except my child,' Lizzie had replied. As the nurse and the lady's maid were both in the room, Augusta, of course, could say nothing further. That occurred after prayers, and while the tea was being made. When Augusta reached the breakfast-room, Lucy was cutting up the loaf of bread, and at the same moment the old butler was placing a letter immediately under her eyes. She saw the handwriting and recognized it, but yet she finished cutting the bread. ‘Lucy, do give me that hunchy bit,' said Nina.

‘Hunchy is not in the dictionary,' said Cecilia.

‘I want it in my plate, and not in the dictionary,' said Nina.

Lucy did as she was asked, but her hand trembled as she gave the hunch, and Lady Fawn saw that her face was crimson. She took the letter and broke the envelope, and as she drew out the sheet of paper, she looked up at Lady Fawn. The fate of her whole life was in her hands, and there she was standing with all their eyes fixed upon her. She did not even know how to sit down, but, still standing, she read the first words, and at the last, ‘Dear, dear Lucy' – ‘Yours ever and always, if you will have me,
F. G.' She did not want to read any more of it then. She sat down slowly, put the precious paper back into its envelope, looked round upon them all, and knew that she was crimson to the roots of her hair, blushing like a guilty thing.

‘Lucy, my dear,' said Lady Fawn – and Lucy at once turned her face full upon her old friend – ‘you have got a letter that agitates you.'

‘Yes – I have,' she said.

‘Go into the book-room. You can come back to breakfast when you have read it, you know.' Thereupon Lucy rose from her seat, and retired with her treasure into the book-room. But even when she was there she could not at once read her letter. When the door was closed and she knew that she was alone she looked at it, and then clasped it tight between her hands. She was almost afraid to read it lest the letter itself should contradict the promise which the last words of it had seemed to convey to her. She went up to the window and stood there gazing out upon the gravel road, with her hand containing the letter pressed upon her heart. Lady Fawn had told her that she was preparing for herself inexpressible misery; – and now there had come to her joy so absolutely inexpressible! ‘A man to tell you that he loves you, and yet not ask you to be his wife!' She repeated to herself Lady Fawn's words – and then those other words, ‘Yours ever and always, if you will have me!' Have him, indeed! She threw from her, at once, as vain and wicked and false, all idea of coying her love. She would leap at his neck if he were there, and tell him that for years he had been, almost, her god. And of course he knew it. ‘If I will have him! Traitor!' she said to herself, smiling through her tears. Then she reflected that after all it would be well that she should read the letter. There might be conditions; – though what conditions could he propose with which she would not comply? However, she seated herself in a corner of the room and did read the letter. As she read it, she hardly understood it all; – but she understood what she wanted to understand. He asked her to share with him his home. He had spoken to her that day without forethought; – but mustn't such speech be the truest and the sweetest of all speeches? ‘And now
I write to you to ask you to be my wife.' Oh, how wrong some people can be in their judgments! How wrong Lady Fawn had been in hers about Frank Greystock! ‘For the last year or two I have lived with this hope before me.' ‘And so have I,' said Lucy. ‘And so have I; – with that and no other.' ‘Too great confidence ! Traitor!' she said again, smiling and weeping, ‘yes, traitor; when of course you knew it.' ‘Is his happiness in my hands? Oh – then he shall be happy.' ‘Of course I will tell Lady Fawn at once – instantly. Dear Lady Fawn! But yet she has been so wrong. I suppose she will let him come here. But what does it matter, now that I know it? “Yours ever and always – if you will have me. – F. G.” Traitor, traitor, traitor!' Then she got up and walked about the room, not knowing what she did, holding the letter now between her hands, and then pressing it to her lips.

She was still walking about the room when there came a low tap at the door, and Lady Fawn entered. ‘There is nothing the matter, Lucy?' Lucy stood stock still, with her treasure still clasped, smiling, almost laughing, while the tears ran down her cheeks. ‘Won't you eat your breakfast, my dear?' said Lady Fawn.

‘Oh, Lady Fawn – oh, Lady Fawn!' said Lucy, rushing into her friend's arms.

‘What is it, Lucy? I think our little wise one has lost her wits.'

‘Oh, Lady Fawn, he has asked me!'

‘Is it Mr Greystock?'

‘Yes; – Mr Greystock. He has asked me. He has asked me to be his wife. I thought he loved me. I hoped he did, at least. Oh dear, I did so hope it! And he does!'

‘Has he proposed to you?'

‘Yes, Lady Fawn, I told you what he said to me. And then he went and wrote this. Is he not noble and good – and so kind? You shall read it – but you'll give it me back, Lady Fawn?'

‘Certainly I'll give it you back. You don't think I'd rob you of your lover's letter?'

‘Perhaps you might think it right.'

‘If it is really an offer of marriage –' said Lady Fawn very seriously.

‘It couldn't be more of an offer if he had sat writing it for ever,' said Lucy, as she gave up her letter with confidence. Lady Fawn read it with leisurely attention, and smiled as she put the paper back into the envelope. ‘All the men in the world couldn't say it more plainly,' said Lucy, nodding her head forward.

‘I don't think they could,' said Lady Fawn. ‘I never read anything more plain in my life. I wish you joy with all my heart, Lucy. There is not a word to be said against him.'

‘Against him!' said Lucy, who thought that this was very insufficient praise.

‘What I mean is, that when I objected to his coming here I was only afraid that he couldn't afford – or would think, you know, that in his position he couldn't afford to marry a wife without a fortune.'

‘He may come now, Lady Fawn?'

‘Well – yes; I think so. I shall be glad just to say a word to him. Of course you are in my hands, and I do love you so dearly, Lucy! I could not bear that anything but good should happen to you.'

‘This is good,' said Lucy.

‘It won't be good, and Mr Greystock won't think you good, if you don't come and eat your breakfast.' So Lucy was led back into the parlour, and sipped her tea and crunched her toast, while Lydia came and stood over her.

‘Of course it is from him,' whispered Lydia. Lucy again nodded her head while she was crunching her toast.

The fact that Mr Greystock had proposed in form to Lucy Morris was soon known to all the family, and the news certainly did take away something from the importance which would otherwise have been attached to Lizzie's departure. There was not the same awe of the ceremony, the same dread of some scene, which but for Frank Greystock's letter would have existed. Of course, Lord Fawn's future matrimonial prospects were to them all an affair of more moment than those of Lucy; but Lord Fawn himself had gone, and had already quarrelled with the lady before he went. There was at present nothing more to be done by them in regard to Lizzie, than just to get rid of her. But Lucy's good
fortune, so unexpected, and by her so frankly owned as the very best fortune in the world that could have befallen her, gave an excitement to them all. There could be no lessons that morning for Nina, and the usual studies of the family were altogether interrupted. Lady Fawn purred, and congratulated, and gave good advice, and declared that any other home for Lucy before her marriage would now be quite out of the question. ‘Of course it wouldn't do for you to go even to Clara,' said Lady Fawn – who seemed to think that there still might be some delay before Frank Greystock would be ready for his wife. ‘You know, my dear, that he isn't rich; – not for a member of Parliament. I suppose he makes a good income, but I have always heard that he was a little backward when he began. Of course, you know, nobody need be in a hurry.' Then Lucy began to think that if Frank should wish to postpone his marriage – say for three or four years – she might even yet become a burden on her friend. ‘But don't you be frightened,' continued Lady Fawn; ‘you shall never want a home as long as I have one to give you. We shall soon find out what are Mr Greystock's ideas; and unless he is very unreasonable we'll make things fit.'

Then there came a message to Lucy from Lady Eustace. ‘If you please, miss, Lady Eustace will be glad to see you for a minute up in her room before she starts.' So Lucy was torn away from the thoughts of her own happiness, and taken upstairs to Lady Eustace. ‘You have heard that I am going?' said Lizzie.

‘Yes; – I heard you were to go this morning.'

‘And you have heard why? I'm sure you will not deceive me, Lucy. Where am I to look for truth if not to an old friend like you?'

‘Why should I deceive you, Lizzie?'

‘Why, indeed? only that all people do. The world is so false, so material, so worldly! One gives out one's heart, and gets in return nothing but dust and ashes – nothing but ashes and dust. Oh, I have been so disappointed in Lady Fawn!'

‘You know she is my dearest friend,' said Lucy.