The Way We Live Now (67 page)

Should he tell his mother that he was going? His mother had clearly recommended him to run away with the girl, and must therefore approve of the measure. His mother would understand how great would be the expense of such a trip, and might perhaps add something to his stock of money. He determined that he would tell his mother – that is, if Didon should bring him full change for the cheque.

He walked into the Beargarden exactly at four o'clock on the Monday, and there he found Didon standing in the hall. His heart sank within him as he saw her. Now must he certainly go to New York. She made him a little curtsey, and without a word handed him an envelope, soft and fat with rich enclosures. He bade her wait a moment, and going into a little waiting-room counted the notes. The money was all there – the full sum of £250. He must certainly go to New York. ‘C'est tout en règle?' said Didon in a whisper as he returned to the hall. Sir Felix nodded his head, and Didon took her departure.

Yes; he must go now. He had Melmotte's money in his pocket, and was therefore bound to run away with Melmotte's daughter. It was a great trouble to him as he reflected that Melmotte had more of his money than he had of Melmotte's. And now how should he dispose of his time before he went? Gambling was too dangerous. Even he felt that. Where would he be were he to lose his ready money? He would dine that night at the club, and in the evening go up to his mother. On the Tuesday he would take his place for New York in the City, and would spend the evening with Ruby at the music-hall. On the Wednesday, he would start for Liverpool – according to his instructions. He felt annoyed that he had been so fully instructed. But should the affair turn out well nobody would know that. All the fellows would give him credit for the audacity with which he had carried off the heiress to America.

At ten o'clock he found his mother and Hetta in Welbeck Street – ‘What; Felix?' exclaimed Lady Carbury.

‘You're surprised; are you not?' Then he threw himself into a chair. ‘Mother,' he said, ‘would you mind coming into the other room?' Lady
Carbury of course went with him. ‘I've got something to tell you,' he said.

‘Good news?' she asked, clasping her hands together. From his manner she thought that it was good news. Money had in some way come into his hands – or at any rate a prospect of money.

‘That's as may be,' he said, and then he paused.

‘Don't keep me in suspense, Felix.'

‘The long and the short of it is that I'm going to take Marie off.'

‘Oh, Felix.'

‘You said you thought it was the right thing to do – and therefore I'm going to do it The worst of it is that one wants such a lot of money for this kind of thing.'

‘But when?'

‘Immediately. I wouldn't tell you till I had arranged everything. I've had it in my mind for the last fortnight.'

‘And how is it to be? Oh, Felix, I hope it may succeed.'

‘It was your own idea, you know. We're going to – where do you think?'

‘How can I think – Boulogne.'

‘You say that just because Goldsheiner went there. That wouldn't have done at all for us. We're going to – New York.'

‘To New York! But when will you be married?'

‘There will be a clergyman on board. It's all fixed. I wouldn't go without telling you.'

‘Oh; I wish you hadn't told me.'

‘Come now – that's kind. You don't mean to say it wasn't you that put me up to it. I've got to get my things ready.'

‘Of course, if you tell me that you are going on a journey, I will have your clothes got ready for you. When do you start?'

‘Wednesday afternoon.'

‘For New York! We must get some things ready-made. Oh, Felix, how will it be if he does not forgive her?' He attempted to laugh. ‘When I spoke of such a thing as possible, he had not sworn then that he would never give her a shilling.'

‘They always say that.'

‘You are going to risk it?'

‘I am going to take your advice.' This was dreadful to the poor mother. ‘There is money settled on her.'

‘Settled on whom?'

‘On Marie – money which he can't get back again.'

‘How much?'

‘She doesn't know – but a great deal; enough for them all to live upon if things went amiss with them.'

‘But that's only a form, Felix. That money can't be her own, to give to her husband.'

‘Melmotte will find that it is, unless he comes to terms. That's the pull we've got over him. Marie knows what she's about She's a great deal sharper than any one would take her to be. What can you do for me about money, mother?'

‘I have none, Felix.'

‘I thought you'd be sure to help me, as you wanted me so much to do it.'

‘That's not true, Felix. I didn't want you to do it. Oh, I am so sorry that that word ever passed my mouth! I have no money. There isn't twenty pounds at the bank altogether.'

‘They would let you overdraw for fifty or sixty pounds.'

‘I will not do it. I will not starve myself and Hetta. You had ever so much money only lately. I will get some things for you and pay for them as I can if you cannot pay for them after your marriage – but I have not money to give you.'

‘That's a blue look-out,' said he, turning himself in his chair – ‘Just when sixty or seventy pounds might make a fellow for life! You could borrow it from your friend Broune.'

‘I will do no such thing, Felix. Fifty or sixty pounds would make very little difference in the expense of such a trip as this. I suppose you have some money?'

‘Some; – yes, some. But I'm so short that any little thing would help me.' Before the evening was over she absolutely did give him a cheque for thirty pounds, although she had spoken the truth in saying that she had not so much at her banker's.

After this he went back to his club, although he himself understood the danger. He could not bear the idea of going to bed quietly at home at half-past ten. He got into a cab, and was very soon up in the card-room. He found nobody there, and went to the smoking-room, where Dolly Longestaffe and Miles Grendall were sitting silently together, with pipes in their mouths. ‘Here's Carbury,' said Dolly, waking suddenly into life. ‘Now we can have a game at three-handed loo.'

‘Thank ye; not for me,' said Sir Felix, ‘I hate three-handed loo.'

‘Dummy,' suggested Dolly.

‘I don't think I'll play to-night, old fellow. I hate three fellows sticking down together.' Miles sat silent, smoking his pipe, conscious of the baronet's dislike to play with him. ‘By-the-by, Grendall – look here.'
And Sir Felix in his most friendly tone whispered into his enemy's ear a petition that some of the IOUs might be converted into cash.

‘'Pon my word, I must ask you to wait till next week,' said Miles.

‘It's always waiting till next week with you,' said Sir Felix, getting up and standing with his back to the fireplace. There were other men in the room, and this was said so that every one should hear it. ‘I wonder whether any fellow would buy these for five shillings in the pound?' And he held up the scraps of paper in his hand. He had been drinking freely before he went up to Welbeck Street, and had taken a glass of brandy on re-entering the club.

‘Don't let's have any of that kind of thing down here,' said Dolly. ‘If there is to be a row about cards, let it be in the card-room.'

‘Of course,' said Miles. ‘I won't say a word about the matter down here. It isn't the proper thing.'

‘Come up into the card-room, then,' said Sir Felix, getting up from his chair. ‘It seems to me that it makes no difference to you, what room you're in. Come up, now; and Dolly Longestaffe shall come and hear what you say.' But Miles Grendall objected to this arrangement He was not going up into the card-room that night, as no one was going to play. He would be there to-morrow, and then if Sir Felix Carbury had anything to say, he could say it.

‘How I do hate a row!' said Dolly. ‘One has to have rows with one's own people, but there ought not to be rows at a club.'

‘He likes a row – Carbury does,' said Miles.

‘I should like my money, if I could get it,' said Sir Felix, walking out of the room.

On the next day he went into the City, and changed his mother's cheque. This was done after a little hesitation. The money was given to him, but a gentleman from behind the desks begged him to remind Lady Carbury that she was overdrawing her account. ‘Dear, dear,' said Sir Felix, as he pocketed the notes, ‘I'm sure she was unaware of it' Then he paid for his passage from Liverpool to New York under the name of Walter Jones, and felt as he did so that the intrigue was becoming very deep. This was on Tuesday. He dined again at the club, alone, and in the evening went to the music-hall. There he remained from ten till nearly twelve, very angry at the non-appearance of Ruby Ruggles. As he smoked and drank in solitude, he almost made up his mind that he had intended to tell her of his departure for New York. Of course he would have done no such thing. But now, should she ever complain on that head he would have his answer ready. He had devoted his last night in England to the purpose of
telling her, and she had broken her appointment. Everything would now be her fault. Whatever might happen to her she could not blame him.

Having waited till he was sick of the music-hall – for a music-hall without ladies' society must be somewhat dull – he went back to his club. He was very cross, as brave as brandy could make him, and well inclined to expose Miles Grendall if he could find an opportunity. Up in the card-room he found all the accustomed men – with the exception of Miles Grendall. Nidderdale, Grasslough, Dolly, Paul Montague, and one or two others were there. There was, at any rate, comfort in the idea of playing without having to encounter the dead weight of Miles Grendall. Ready money was on the table – and there was none of the peculiar Beargarden paper flying about. Indeed the men at the Beargarden had become sick of paper, and there had been formed a half-expressed resolution that the play should be somewhat lower, but the payments punctual. The IOUs had been nearly all converted into money–with the assistance of Herr Vossner – excepting those of Miles Grendall. The resolution mentioned did not refer back to Grendall's former indebtedness, but was intended to include a clause that he must in future pay ready money. Nidderdale had communicated to him the determination of the committee. ‘Bygones are bygones, old fellow; but you really must stump up, you know, after this.' Miles had declared that he would ‘stump up.' But on this occasion Miles was absent.

At three o'clock in the morning Sir Felix had lost over a hundred pounds in ready money. On the following night about one he had lost a further sum of two hundred pounds. The reader will remember that he should at that time have been in the hotel at Liverpool.

But Sir Felix, as he played on in the almost desperate hope of recovering the money which he so greatly needed, remembered how Fisker had played all night, and how he had gone off from the club to catch the early train for Liverpool, and how he had gone on to New York without delay.

Marie Melmotte, as she had promised, sat up all night, as did also the faithful Didon. I think that to Marie the night was full of pleasure – or at any rate of pleasurable excitement. With her door locked, she packed
and unpacked and repacked her treasures – having more than once laid out on the bed the dress in which she purposed to be married. She asked Didon her opinion whether that American clergyman of whom they had heard would marry them on board, and whether in that event the dress would be fit for the occasion. Didon thought that the man, if sufficiently paid, would marry them, and that the dress would not much signify. She scolded her young mistress very often during the night for what she called nonsense; but was true to her, and worked hard for her. They determined to go without food in the morning, so that no suspicion should be raised by the use of cups and plates. They could get refreshment at the railway station.

At six they started. Robert went first with the big boxes, having his ten pounds already in his pocket – and Marie and Didon with smaller luggage followed in a second cab. No one interfered with them and nothing went wrong. The very civil man at Euston Square gave them their tickets, and even attempted to speak to them in French. They had quite determined that not a word of English was to be spoken by Marie till the ship was out at sea. At the station they got some very bad tea and almost uneatable food – but Marie's restrained excitement was so great that food was almost unnecessary to her. They took their seats without any impediment – and then they were off.

During a great part of the journey they were alone, and then Marie gabbled to Didon about her hopes and her future career, and all the things she would do – how she had hated Lord Nidderdale – especially when, after she had been awed into accepting him, he had given her no token of love – ‘pas un baiser!' Didon suggested that such was the way with English lords. She herself had preferred Lord Nidderdale, but had been willing to join in the present plan – as she said, from devoted affection to Marie. Marie went on to say that Nidderdale was ugly, and that Sir Felix was as beautiful as the morning. ‘Bah!' exclaimed Didon, who was really disgusted that such considerations should prevail. Didon had learned in some indistinct way that Lord Nidderdale would be a marquis and would have a castle, whereas Sir Felix would never be more than Sir Felix, and, of his own, would never have anything at all. She had striven with her mistress, but her mistress liked to have a will of her own. Didon no doubt had thought that New York, with £50 and other perquisites in hand, might offer her a new career. She had therefore yielded, but even now could hardly forbear from expressing disgust at the folly of her mistress. Marie bore it with imperturbable good humour. She was running away – and was running to a distant
continent – and her lover would be with her! She gave Didon to understand that she cared nothing for marquises.