The Eustace Diamonds (58 page)
Read The Eustace Diamonds Online
Authors: Anthony Trollope
âDamnable, Lizzie!'
âYes; â damnable. I will not pick my words for you. Coming from you, what does such pressure mean?'
âAffection.'
âYes; â and of what sort? You are wicked enough to feed my love by such tokens, when you know that you do not mean to return it. O Frank, Frank, will you give me back my heart? What was it that you promised me when we sat together upon the rocks of Portray?'
It is inexpressibly difficult for a man to refuse the tender of a woman's love. We may almost say that a man should do so as a matter of course â that the thing so offered becomes absolutely valueless by the offer â that the woman who can make it has put herself out of court by her own abandonment of the privileges due to her as a woman â that stern rebuke and even expressed contempt are justified by such conduct â and that the fairest beauty and most alluring charms of feminine grace should lose their attraction when thus tendered openly in the market. No doubt such is our theory as to love and love-making. But the action to be taken by us in matters as to which the plainest theory prevails for the guidance of our practice, depends so frequently on accompanying circumstances and correlative issues, that the theory, as often as not, falls to the ground. Frank could not despise this woman, and could not be stern to her. He could not bring himself to tell her boldly that he would have nothing
to say to her in the way of love. He made excuses for her, and persuaded himself that there were peculiar circumstances in her position justifying unwomanly conduct, although, had he examined himself on the subject, he would have found it difficult to say what those circumstances were. She was rich, beautiful, clever â and he was flattered. Nevertheless he knew that he could not marry her; â and he knew also that much as he liked her he did not love her. Tizzie,' he said, âI think you hardly understand my position.'
âYes, I do. That little girl has cozened you out of a promise.'
âIf it be so, you would not have me break it.'
âYes, I would, if you think she is not fit to be your wife. Is a man, such as you are, to be tied by the leg for life, have all his ambition clipped, and his high hopes shipwrecked, because a girl has been clever enough to extract a word from him? Is it not true that you are in debt?'
âWhat of that? At any rate, Lizzie, I do not want help from you.'
âThat is so like a man's pride! Do we not all know that in such a career as you have marked out for yourself, wealth, or at any rate an easy income, is necessary? Do you think that I cannot put two and two together? Do you believe so meanly of me as to imagine that I should have said to you what I have said, if I did not know that I could help you? A man, I believe, cannot understand that love which induces a woman to sacrifice her pride simply for his advantage. I want to see you prosper. I want to see you a great man and a lord, and I know that you cannot become so without an income. Ah, I wish I could give you all that I have got, and save you from the encumbrance that is attached to it!'
It might be that he would then have told her of his engagement to Lucy, and of his resolution to adhere to that promise, had not Mrs Carbuncle at the moment entered the room. Frank had been there for above an hour, and as Lizzie was still an invalid, and to some extent under the care of Mrs Carbuncle, it was natural that that lady should interfere. âYou know, my dear, you should not exhaust yourself altogether. Mr Emilius is to come to you this afternoon.'
âMr Emilius!' said Greystock.
âYes; â the clergyman. Don't you remember him at Portray? A dark man with eyes close together! You used to be very wicked, and say that he was once a Jew-boy in the streets.' Lizzie, as she spoke of her spiritual guide, was evidently not desirous of doing him much honour.
âI remember him well enough. He made sheep's eyes at Miss Macnulty, and drank a great deal of wine at dinner.'
âPoor Macnulty! I don't believe a word about the wine; and as for Macnulty, I don't see why she should not be converted as well as another. He is coming here to read to me. I hope you don't object.'
âNot in the least; â if you like it.'
âOne does have solemn thoughts sometimes, Frank â especially when one is ill.'
âOh, yes. Well or ill, one does have solemn thoughts; â ghosts, as it were, which will appear. But is Mr Emilius good at laying such apparitions?'
âHe is a clergyman, Mr Greystock,' said Mrs Carbuncle, with something of rebuke in her voice.
âSo they tell me. I was not present at his ordination, but I dare say it was done according to rule. When one reflects what a deal of harm a bishop may do, one wishes that there was some surer way of getting bishops.'
âDo you know anything against Mr Emilius?' asked Lizzie.
âNothing at all but his looks, and manners, and voice â unless it be that he preaches popular sermons, and drinks too much wine, and makes sheep's eyes at Miss Macnulty. Look after your silver spoons, Mrs Carbuncle â if the last thieves have left you any. You were asking after the fate of your diamonds, Lizzie. Perhaps they will endow a Protestant church in Mr Emilius's native land.'
Mr Emilius did come and read to Lady Eustace that afternoon. A clergyman is as privileged to enter the bedroom of a sick lady as is a doctor or a cousin. There was another clean cap, and another laced handkerchief, and on this occasion a little shawl over
Lizzie's shoulders. Mr Emilius first said a prayer, kneeling at Lizzie's bedside; then he read a chapter in the Bible; â and after that he read the first half of the fourth canto of Childe Harold
3
so well, that Lizzie felt for the moment that after all, poetry was life and life was poetry.
CHAPTER
54
âI Suppose I May Say A Word'
T
HE
second robbery to which Lady Eustace had been subjected by no means decreased the interest which was attached to her and her concerns in the fashionable world. Parliament had now met, and the party at Matching Priory â Lady Glencora Palliser's party in the country â had been to some extent broken up. All those gentlemen who were engaged in the service of Her Majesty's Government had necessarily gone to London, and they who had wives at Matching had taken their wives with them. Mr and Mrs Bonteen had seen the last of their holiday. Mr Palliser himself was, of course, at his post; and all the private secretaries were with the public secretaries on the scene of action. On the 13th of February Mr Palliser made his first great statement in Parliament on the matter of the five-farthinged penny, and pledged himself to do his very best to carry that stupendous measure through Parliament in the present session. The City men who were in the House that night â and all the Directors of the Bank of England were in the gallery, and every chairman of a great banking company, and every Baring and every Rothschild, if there be Barings and Rothschilds who have not been returned by constituencies, and have not seats in the House by right
1
â agreed in declaring that the job in hand was too much for any one member or any one session. Some said that such a measure never could be passed, because the unfinished work of one session could not be used in lessening the labours of the next. Everything must be recommenced; and therefore â so said these hopeless ones â the penny with five farthings, the penny of which a hundred would make ten shillings, the halcyon penny, which would make all future pecuniary calculations easy to the meanest British capacity, could never become the law of the land. Others, more hopeful, were willing to believe that gradually the thing would so sink into the minds of members of Parliament, of writers of leading
articles, and of the active public generally, as to admit of certain established axioms being taken as established, and placed, as it were, beyond the procrastinating power of debate. It might, for instance, at last be taken for granted that a decimal system was desirable, so that a month or two of the spring need not be consumed on that preliminary question. But this period had not as yet been reached, and it was thought by the entire City that Mr Palliser was much too sanguine. It was so probable, many said, that he might kill himself by labour which would be herculean in all but success, and that no financier after him would venture to face the task. It behoved Lady Glencora to see that her Hercules did not kill himself.
In this state of affairs Lady Glencora â into whose hands the custody of Mr Palliser's uncle, the duke, had now altogether fallen â had a divided duty between Matching and London. When the members of Parliament went up to London, she went there also, leaving some half-dozen friends whom she could trust to amuse the duke; but she soon returned, knowing that there might be danger in a long absence. The duke, though old, was his own master; he much affected the company of Madame Goesler; and that lady's kindness to him was considerate and incessant; but there might still be danger, and Lady Glencora felt that she was responsible that the old nobleman should do nothing, in the feebleness of age, to derogate from the splendour of his past life. What, if some day his grace should be off to Paris and insist on making Madame Goesler a duchess in the chapel of the Embassy! Madame Goesler had hitherto behaved very well; â would probably continue to behave well. Lady Glencora really loved Madame Goesler. But then the interests at stake were very great! So circumstanced, Lady Glencora found herself compelled to be often on the road between Matching and London.
But though she was burthened with great care, Lady Glencora by no means dropped her interest in the Eustace diamonds; and when she learned that on the top of the great Carlisle robbery a second robbery had been superadded, and that this had been achieved while all the London police were yet astray about the former operation, her solicitude was of course enhanced. The duke
himself, too, took the matter up so strongly, that he almost wanted to be carried up to London, with some view, as it was supposed by the ladies who were so good to him, of seeing Lady Eustace personally. âIt's out of the question, my dear,' Lady Glencora said to Madame Goesler, when the duke's fancy was first mentioned to her by that lady. âI told him that the trouble would be too much for him.' âOf course it would be too much,' said Lady Glencora. âIt is quite out of the question.' Then, after a moment, she added in a whisper, âWho knows but what he'd insist on marrying her! It isn't every woman that can resist temptation.' Madame Goesler smiled, and shook her head, but made no answer to Lady Glencora's suggestion. Lady Glencora assured her uncle that everything should be told to him. She would write about it daily, and send him the latest news by the wires if the post should be too slow. âAh; â yes,' said the duke; âI like telegrams best. I think, you know, that that Lord George Carruthers has had something to do with it. Don't you, Madame Goesler?' It had long been evident that the duke was anxious that one of his own order should be proved to have been the thief, as the plunder taken was so lordly.
In regard to Lizzie herself, Lady Glencora, on her return to London, took it into her head to make a diversion in our heroine's favour. It had hitherto been a matter of faith with all the liberal party that Lady Eustace had had something to do with stealing her own diamonds. That esprit de corps, which is the glorious characteristic of English statesmen, had caused the whole Government to support Lord Fawn, and Lord Fawn could only be supported on the supposition that Lizzie Eustace had been a wicked culprit. But Lady Glencora, though very true as a politician, was apt to have opinions of her own, and to take certain flights in which she chose that others of the party should follow her. She now expressed an opinion that Lady Eustace was a victim, and all the Mrs Bonteens, with some even of the Mr Bonteens, found themselves compelled to agree with her. She stood too high among her set to be subject to that obedience which restrained others â too high, also, for others to resist her leading. As a member of a party she was erratic and dangerous, but from her position and
peculiar temperament she was powerful. When she declared that poor Lady Eustace was a victim, others were obliged to say so too. This was particularly hard upon Lord Fawn, and the more so as Lady Glencora took upon her to assert that Lord Fawn had no right to jilt the young woman. And Lady Glencora had this to support her views â that, for the last weeks past, indeed ever since the depositions which had been taken after the robbery in Hertford Street, the police had expressed no fresh suspicions in regard to Lizzie Eustace. She heard daily from Barrington Erle that Major Mackintosh and Bunfit and Gager were as active as ever in their inquiries, that all Scotland Yard was determined to unravel the mystery, and that there were emissaries at work tracking the diamonds at Hamburg, Paris, Vienna, and New York. It had been whispered to Mr Erle that the whereabouts of Patience Crabstick had been discovered, and that many of the leading thieves in London were assisting the police; but nothing more was done in the way of fixing any guilt upon Lizzie Eustace. âUpon my word, I am beginning to think that she has been more sinned against than sinning.' This was said to Lady Glencora on the morning after Mr Palliser's great speech about the five farthings, by Barrington Erle, who, as it seemed, had been specially told off by the party to watch this investigation.
âI am sure she has had nothing to do with it. I have thought so ever since the last robbery. Sir Simon Slope told me yesterday afternoon that Mr Camperdown has given it up altogether.' Sir Simnon Slope was the Solicitor-General of that day.
âIt would be absurd for him to go on with his bill in Chancery now that the diamonds are gone â unless he meant to make her pay for them.'
âThat would be rank persecution. Indeed she has been persecuted. I shall call upon her.' Then she wrote the following letter to the duke; â
âFebruary 14, 18â
âM
Y DEAR
D
UKE,