Marion Fay: A Novel

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XXII.

  AGAIN AT TRAFFORD.

  The meeting between Hampstead and his sister was affectionate and,upon the whole, satisfactory, though it was necessary that a fewwords should be spoken which could hardly be pleasant in themselves."I had a dinner-party here last night," he said laughing, desirous oftelling her something of George Roden,--and something also of MarionFay.

  "Who were the guests?"

  "Roden was here." Then there was silence. She was glad that her loverhad been one of the guests, but she was not as yet moved to sayanything respecting him. "And his mother."

  "I am sure I shall like his mother," said Lady Frances.

  "I have mentioned it," continued her brother, speaking with unusualcare, "because, in compliance with the agreement I made at Trafford,I cannot ask him here again at present."

  "I am sorry that I should be in your way, John."

  "You are not in my way, as I think you know. Let us say no more thanthat at present. Then I had a singular old Quaker, named Zachary Fay,an earnest, honest, but humble man, who blew me up instantly fortalking slang."

  "Where did you pick him up?"

  "He comes out of the City," he said, not wishing to refer again toParadise Row and the neighbourhood of the Rodens,--"and he broughthis daughter."

  "A young lady?"

  "Certainly a young lady."

  "Ah, but young,--and beautiful?"

  "Young,--and beautiful."

  "Now you are laughing. I suppose she is some strong-minded, ratherrepulsive, middle-aged woman."

  "As to the strength of her mind, I have not seen enough to constitutemyself a judge," said Hampstead, almost with a tone of offence. "Whyyou should imagine her to be repulsive because she is a Quaker, orwhy middle-aged, I do not understand. She is not repulsive to me."

  "Oh, John, I am so sorry! Now I know that you have found some divinebeauty."

  "We sometimes entertain angels unawares. I thought that I had done sowhen she took her departure."

  "Are you in earnest?"

  "I am quite in earnest as to the angel. Now I have to consult you asto a project." It may be remembered that Hampstead had spoken to hisfather as to the expediency of giving up his horses if he found thathis means were not sufficient to keep up Hendon Hall, his yacht, andhis hunting establishment in Northamptonshire. The Marquis, withoutsaying a word to his son, had settled that matter, and Gorse Hall,with its stables, was continued. The proposition now made to LadyFrances was that she should go down with him and remain there for aweek or two till she should find the place too dull. He had intendedto fix an almost immediate day; but now he was debarred from this byhis determination to see Marion yet once again before he took himselfaltogether beyond the reach of Holloway. The plan, therefore, thoughit was fixed as far as his own intention went and the assent ofLady Frances, was left undefined as to time. The more he thought ofHolloway, and the difficulties of approaching Paradise Row, the moreconvinced he became that his only mode of approaching Marion must bethrough Mrs. Roden. He had taken two or three days to consider whatwould be the most appropriate manner of going through this operation,when on a sudden he was arrested by a letter from his father, begginghis presence down at Trafford. The Marquis was ill, and was anxiousto see his son. The letter in which the request was made was sad andplaintive throughout. He was hardly able to write, Lord Kingsburysaid, because he was so unwell; but he had no one to write for him.Mr. Greenwood had made himself so disagreeable that he could nolonger employ him for such purposes. "Your stepmother is causing memuch vexation, which I do not think that I deserve from her." He thenadded that it would be necessary for him to have his lawyer down atTrafford, but that he wished to see Hampstead first in order thatthey might settle as to certain arrangements which were required inregard to the disposition of the property. There were some thingswhich Hampstead could not fail to perceive from this letter. He wassure that his father was alarmed as to his own condition, or hewould not have thought of sending for the lawyer to Trafford. He hadhitherto always been glad to seize an opportunity of running up toLondon when any matter of business had seemed to justify the journey.Then it occurred to his son that his father had rarely or ever spokenor written to him of his "stepmother." In certain moods the Marquishad been wont to call his wife either the Marchioness or LadyKingsbury. When in good humour he had generally spoken of her to hisson as "your mother." The injurious though strictly legal name nowgiven to her was a certain index of abiding wrath. But things musthave been very bad with the Marquis at Trafford when he had utterlydiscarded the services of Mr. Greenwood,--services to which he hadbeen used for a time to which the memory of his son did not go back.Hampstead of course obeyed his father's injunctions, and went down toTrafford instantly, leaving his sister alone at Hendon Hall. He foundthe Marquis not in bed indeed, but confined to his own sitting-room,and to a very small bed-chamber which had been fitted up for himclose to it. Mr. Greenwood had been anxious to give up his own roomsas being more spacious; but the offer had been peremptorily andalmost indignantly refused. The Marquis had been unwilling to acceptanything like a courtesy from Mr. Greenwood. Should he make up hismind to turn Mr. Greenwood out of the house,--and he had almost madeup his mind to do so,--then he could do what he pleased with Mr.Greenwood's rooms. But he wasn't going to accept the loan of chambersin his own house as a favour from Mr. Greenwood.

  Hampstead on arriving at the house saw the Marchioness for a momentbefore he went to his father. "I cannot tell how he is," said LadyKingsbury, speaking in evident dudgeon. "He will hardly let me gonear him. Doctor Spicer seems to think that we need not be alarmed.He shuts himself up in those gloomy rooms down-stairs. Of course itwould be better for him to be off the ground floor, where he wouldhave more light and air. But he has become so obstinate, that I donot know how to deal with him."

  "He has always liked to live in the room next to Mr. Greenwood's."

  "He has taken an absolute hatred to Mr. Greenwood. You had better notmention the poor old gentleman's name to him. Shut up as I am here, Ihave no one else to speak a word to, and for that reason, I suppose,he wishes to get rid of him. He is absolutely talking of sending theman away after having had him with him for nearly thirty years."In answer to all this Hampstead said almost nothing. He knew hisstepmother, and was aware that he could do no service by tellingher what he might find it to be his duty to say to his father asto Mr. Greenwood, or on any other subject. He did not hate hisstepmother,--as she hated him. But he regarded her as one to whom itwas quite useless to speak seriously as to the affairs of the family.He knew her to be prejudiced, ignorant, and falsely proud,--but hedid not suppose her to be either wicked or cruel.

  His father began almost instantly about Mr. Greenwood, so that itwould have been quite impossible for him to follow Lady Kingsbury'sadvice on that matter had he been ever so well minded. "Of course I'mill," he said; "I suffer so much from sickness and dyspepsia thatI can eat nothing. Doctor Spicer seems to think that I should getbetter if I did not worry myself; but there are so many things toworry me. The conduct of that man is abominable."

  "What man, sir?" asked Hampstead,--who knew, however, very well whatwas coming.

  "That clergyman," said Lord Kingsbury, pointing in the direction ofMr. Greenwood's room.

  "He does not come to you, sir, unless you send for him?"

  "I haven't seen him for the last five days, and I don't care if Inever see him again."

  "How has he offended you, sir?"

  "I gave him my express injunctions that he should not speak ofyour sister either to me or the Marchioness. He gave me his solemnpromise, and I know very well that they are talking about her everyhour of the day."

  "Perhaps that is not his fault."

  "Yes, it is. A man needn't talk to a woman unless he likes. It isdownright impudence on his part. Your stepmother comes to me everyday, and never leaves me without abusing Fanny."

  "That is why I thought it better that Fanny should come to me."

  "And the
n, when I argue with her, she always tells me what Mr.Greenwood says about it. Who cares about Mr. Greenwood? What businesshas Mr. Greenwood to interfere in my family? He does not know how tobehave himself, and he shall go."

  "He has been here a great many years, sir," said Hampstead, pleadingfor the old man.

  "Too many," said the Marquis. "When you've had a man about you solong as that, he is sure to take liberties."

  "You must provide for him, sir, if he goes."

  "I have thought of that. He must have something, of course. Hehas had three hundred a-year for the last ten years, and has hadeverything found for him down to his washing and his cab fares. Forfive-and-twenty years he has never paid for a bed or a meal out ofhis own pocket. What has he done with his money? He ought to be arich man for his degree."

  "What a man does with his money is, I suppose, no concern to thosewho pay it. It is supposed to have been earned, and there is an endof it as far as they are concerned."

  "He shall have a thousand pounds," said the Marquis.

  "That would hardly be liberal. I would think twice before I dismissedhim, sir."

  "I have thought a dozen times."

  "I would let him remain," said Hampstead, "if only because he's acomfort to Lady Kingsbury. What does it matter though he does talkof Fanny? Were he to go she would talk to somebody else who mightbe perhaps less fit to hear her, and he would, of course, talk toeverybody."

  "Why has he not obeyed me?" demanded the Marquis, angrily. "It isI who have employed him. I have been his patron, and now he turnsagainst me." Thus the Marquis went on till his strength would notsuffice for any further talking. Hampstead found himself quite unableto bring him to any other subject on that day. He was sore with theinjury done him in that he was not allowed to be the master in hisown house.

  On the next morning Hampstead heard from Dr. Spicer that his fatherwas in a state of health very far from satisfactory. The doctorrecommended that he should be taken away from Trafford, and at lastwent so far as to say that his advice extended to separating hispatient from Lady Kingsbury. "It is, of course, a very disagreeablesubject," said the doctor, "for a medical man to meddle with; but,my lord, the truth is that Lady Kingsbury frets him. I don't, ofcourse, care to hear what it is, but there is something wrong."Lord Hampstead, who knew very well what it was, did not attemptto contradict him. When, however, he spoke to his father of theexpediency of change of air, the Marquis told him that he wouldrather die at Trafford than elsewhere.

  That his father was really thinking of his death was only tooapparent from all that was said and done. As to those matters ofbusiness, they were soon settled between them. There was, at anyrate, that comfort to the poor man that there was no probability ofany difference between him and his heir as to the property or as tomoney. Half-an-hour settled all that. Then came the time which hadbeen arranged for Hampstead's return to his sister. But before hewent there were conversations between him and Mr. Greenwood, betweenhim and his stepmother, and between him and his father, to which, forthe sake of our story, it may be as well to refer.

  "I think your father is ill-treating me," said Mr. Greenwood. Mr.Greenwood had allowed himself to be talked into a thorough contemptand dislike for the young lord; so that he had almost brought himselfto believe in those predictions as to the young lord's death in whichLady Kingsbury was always indulging. As a consequence of this, he nowspoke in a voice very different from those obsequious tones which hehad before been accustomed to use when he had regarded Lord Hampsteadas his young patron.

  "I am sure my father would never do that," said Hampstead, angrily.

  "It looks very like it. I have devoted all the best of my life to hisservice, and he now talks of dismissing me as though I were no betterthan a servant."

  "Whatever he does, he will, I am sure, have adequate cause fordoing."

  "I have done nothing but my duty. It is out of the question that aman in my position should submit to orders as to what he is to talkabout and what not. It is natural that Lady Kingsbury should come tome in her troubles."

  "If you will take my advice," said Lord Hampstead, in that toneof voice which always produces in the mind of the listener adetermination that the special advice offered shall not be taken,"you will comply with my father's wishes while it suits you to livein his house. If you cannot do that, it would become you, I think,to leave it." In every word of this there was a rebuke; and Mr.Greenwood, who did not like being rebuked, remembered it.

  "Of course I am nobody in this house now," said the Marchioness inher last interview with her stepson. It is of no use to argue with anangry woman, and in answer to this Hampstead made some gentle murmurwhich was intended neither to assent or to dispute the propositionmade to him. "Because I ventured to disapprove of Mr. Roden as ahusband for your sister I have been shut up here, and not allowed tospeak to any one."

  "Fanny has left the house, so that she may no longer cause youannoyance by her presence."

  "She has left the house in order that she may be near the abominablelover with whom you have furnished her."

  "This is not true," said Hampstead, who was moved beyond his controlby the double falseness of the accusation.

  "Of course you can be insolent to me, and tell me that I speakfalsehoods. It is part of your new creed that you should be neitherrespectful to a parent, nor civil to a lady."

  "I beg your pardon, Lady Kingsbury,"--he had never called her LadyKingsbury before,--"if I have been disrespectful or uncivil, but yourstatements were very hard to bear. Fanny's engagement with Mr. Rodenhas not even received my sanction. Much less was it arranged orencouraged by me. She has not gone to Hendon Hall to be near Mr.Roden, with whom she had undertaken to hold no communication as longas she remains there with me. Both for my own sake and for hers Iam bound to repudiate the accusation." Then he went without furtheradieu, leaving with her a conviction that she had been treated withthe greatest contumely by her husband's rebellious heir.

  Nothing could be sadder than the last words which the Marquis spoketo his son. "I don't suppose, Hampstead, that we shall ever meetagain in this world."

  "Oh, father!"

  "I don't think Mr. Spicer knows how bad I am."

  "Will you have Sir James down from London?"

  "No Sir James can do me any good, I fear. It is ill ministering to amind diseased."

  "Why, sir, should you have a mind diseased? With few men can thingsbe said to be more prosperous than with you. Surely this affair ofFanny's is not of such a nature as to make you feel that all thingsare bitter round you."

  "It is not that."

  "What then? I hope I have not been a cause of grief to you?"

  "No, my boy;--no. It irks me sometimes to think that I should havetrained you to ideas which you have taken up too violently. But it isnot that."

  "My mother--?"

  "She has set her heart against me,--against you and Fanny. I feelthat a division has been made between my two families. Why should mydaughter be expelled from my own house? Why should I not be able tohave you here, except as an enemy in the camp? Why am I to have thatman take up arms against me, whom I have fed in idleness all hislife?"

  "I would not let him trouble my thoughts."

  "When you are old and weak you will find it hard to banish thoughtsthat trouble you. As to going, where am I to go to?"

  "Come to Hendon."

  "And leave her here with him, so that all the world shall say that Iam running away from my own wife? Hendon is your house now, and thisis mine;--and here I must stay till my time has come."

  This was very sad, not as indicating the state of his father'shealth, as to which he was more disposed to take the doctor's opinionthan that of the patient, but as showing the infirmity of hisfather's mind. He had been aware of a certain weakness in hisfather's character,--a desire not so much for ruling as for seemingto rule all that were around him. The Marquis had wished to bethought a despot even when he had delighted in submitting himself tothe stronger mind of his first wife. No
w he felt the chains that wereimposed upon him, so that they galled him when he could not throwthem off. All this was very sad to Hampstead; but it did not make himthink that his father's health had in truth been seriously affected.

  END OF VOL. I.

  * * * * * *

  MARION FAY.

  A Novel.

  by

  ANTHONY TROLLOPE,

  Author of"Framley Parsonage," "Orley Farm," "The Way We Live Now," etc., etc.

  In Three Volumes.

  VOL. II.

  London:Chapman & Hall, Limited, 11, Henrietta St.1882[All Rights reserved.]

  Bungay:Clay and Taylor, Printers.