The Absentee

by Maria Edgeworth

  Lady Berryl and Mr. Berryl's sisters, in an agony of grief, rushed into the room.

  'It's all useless,' cried Mordicai, turning his back upon the ladies; 'these tricks upon creditors won't do with me; I'm used to these scenes; I'm not made of such stuff as you think. Leave a gentleman in peace in his last moments. No! he ought not, nor shan't die in peace, if he don't pay his debts; and if you are all so mighty sorry, ladies, there's the gentleman you may kneel to; if tenderness is the order of the day, it's for the son to show it, not me. Ay, now, Mr. Berryl,' cried he, as Mr. Berryl took up the bond to sign it, 'you're beginning to know I'm not a fool to be trifled with. Stop your hand, if you choose it, sir—it's all the same to me; the person, or the money, I'll carry with me out of this house.'

  Mr. Beryl signed the bond, and threw it to him.

  'There, monster!—quit the house!'

  'Monster is not actionable—I wish you had called me rascal,' said Mordicai, grinning a horrible smile; and taking up the bond deliberately, returned it to Mr. Berryl. 'This paper is worth nothing to me, sir—it is not witnessed.'

  Mr. Berryl hastily left the room, and returned with Lord Colambre. Mordicai changed countenance and grew pale, for a moment, at sight of Lord Colambre.

  'Well, my lord, since it so happens, I am not sorry that you should be witness to this paper,' said, he; 'and indeed not sorry that you should witness the whole proceeding; for I trust I shall be able to explain to you my conduct.'

  'I do not come here, sir,' interrupted Lord Colambre, 'to listen to any explanations of your conduct, which I perfectly understand;—I come to witness a bond for my friend Mr. Berryl, if you think proper to extort from him such a bond.'

  'I extort nothing, my lord. Mr. Berryl, it is quite a voluntary act, take notice, on your part; sign or not, witness or not, as you please, gentlemen,' said Mordicai, sticking his hands in his pockets, and recovering his look of black and fixed determination.

  'Witness it, witness it, my dear lord,' said Mr. Berryl, looking at his mother and weeping sisters; 'witness it, quick!'

  'Mr. Berryl must just run over his name again in your presence, my lord, with a dry pen,' said Mordicai, putting the pen into Mr. Berryl's hand.

  'No, sir,' said Lord Colambre, 'my friend shall never sign it.'

  'As you please, my lord—the bond or the body, before I quit this house,' said Mordicai.

  'Neither, sir, shall you have; and you quit this house directly.'

  'How! how!—my lord, how's this?'

  'Sir, the arrest you have made is as illegal as it is inhuman.'

  'Illegal, my lord!' said Mordicai, startled.

  'Illegal, sir. I came into this house at the moment when your bailiff asked and was refused admittance. Afterwards, in the confusion of the family above stairs, he forced open the house door with an iron bar—I saw him—I am ready to give evidence of the fact. Now proceed at your peril.'

  Mordicai, without reply snatched up his hat, and walked towards the door; but Lord Colambre held the door open—the door was immediately at the head of the stairs—and Mordicai, seeing his indignant look and proud form, hesitated to pass; for he had always heard that Irishmen are 'quick in the executive part of justice.'

  'Pass on, sir,' repeated Lord Colambre, with an air of ineffable contempt; 'I am a gentleman—you have nothing to fear.'

  Mordicai ran downstairs; Lord Colambre, before he went back into the room, waited to see Mordicai and his bailiff out of the house. When Mordicai was fairly at the bottom of the stairs, he turned, and, white with rage, looked up at Lord Colambre.

  'Charity begins at home, my lord,' said he. 'Look at home—you shall pay for this,' added he, standing half-shielded by the house door, for Lord Colambre moved forward as he spoke the last words; 'and I give you this warning, because I know it will be of no use to you—Your most obedient, my lord.'

  The house door closed after Mordicai.

  'Thank Heaven!' thought Lord Colambre, 'that I did not horsewhip that mean wretch! This warning shall be of use to me. But it is not time to think of that yet.'

  Lord Colambre turned from his own affairs to those of his friend, to offer all the assistance and consolation in his power. Sir John Berryl died that night. His daughters, who had lived in the highest style in London, were left totally unprovided for. His widow had mortgaged her jointure. Mr. Berryl had an estate now left to him, but without any income. He could not be so dishonest as to refuse to pay his father's just debts; he could not let his mother and sisters starve. The scene of distress to which Lord Colambre was witness in this family made a still greater impression upon him than had been made by the warning or the threats of Mordicai. The similarity between the circumstances of his friend's family and of his own struck him forcibly.

  All this evil had arisen from Lady Berryl's passion for living in London and at watering-places. She had made her husband an ABSENTEE—an absentee from his home, his affairs, his duties, and his estate. The sea, the Irish Channel, did not, indeed, flow between him and his estate; but it was of little importance whether the separation was effected by land or water—the consequences, the negligence, the extravagance, were the same.

  Of the few people of his age who are capable of profiting by the experience of others, Lord Colambre was one. 'Experience,' as an elegant writer has observed, 'is an article that may be borrowed with safety, and is often dearly bought.'

  Chapter V

  *

  In the meantime, Lady Clonbrony had been occupied with thoughts very different from those which passed in the mind of her son. Though she had never completely recovered from her rheumatic pains, she had become inordinately impatient of confinement to her own house, and weary of those dull evenings at home, which had, in her son's absence, become insupportable. She told over her visiting tickets regularly twice a day, and gave to every card of invitation a heartfelt sigh. Miss Pratt alarmed her ladyship, by bringing intelligence of some parties given by persons of consequence, to which she was not invited. She feared that she should be forgotten in the world, well knowing how soon the world forgets those they do not see every day and everywhere. How miserable is the fine lady's lot who cannot forget the world, and who is forgot by the world in a moment! How much more miserable still is the condition of a would-be fine lady, working her way up in the world with care and pains! By her, every the slightest failure of attention, from persons of rank and fashion, is marked and felt with jealous anxiety, and with a sense of mortification the most acute—an invitation omitted is a matter of the most serious consequence, not only as it regards the present, but the future; for if she be not invited by Lady A, it will lower her in the eyes of Lady B, and of all the ladies of the alphabet. It will form a precedent of the most dangerous and inevitable application. If she has nine invitations, and the tenth be wanting, the nine have no power to make her happy. This was precisely Lady Clonbrony's case—there was to be a party at Lady St. James's, for which Lady Clonbrony had no card.

  'So ungrateful, so monstrous, of Lady St. James!—What! was the gala so soon forgotten, and all the marked attentions paid that night to Lady St. James!—attentions, you know, Pratt, which were looked upon with a jealous eye, and made me enemies enough, I am told, in another quarter! Of all people, I did not expect to be slighted by Lady St. James!'

  Miss Pratt, who was ever ready to undertake the defence of any person who had a title, pleaded, in mitigation of censure, that perhaps Lady St. James might not be aware that her ladyship was yet well enough to venture out.

  'Oh, my dear Miss Pratt, that cannot be the thing; for, in spite of my rheumatism, which really was bad enough last Sunday, I went on purpose to the Royal Chapel, to show myself in the closet, and knelt close to her ladyship. And, my dear, we curtsied, and she congratulated me, after church, upon my being abroad again, and was so happy to see me look so well, and all that—Oh! it is something very extraordinary and unaccountable!'

  'But, I daresay, a card will come yet,' said Miss Pratt.

  U
pon this hint, Lady Clonbrony's hope revived; and, staying her anger, she began to consider how she could manage to get herself invited. Refreshing tickets were left next morning at Lady St. James's with their corners properly turned up; to do the thing better, separate tickets for herself and for Miss Nugent were left for each member of the family; and her civil messages, left with the footman, extended to the utmost possibility of remainder. It had occurred to her lady-ship that for Miss Somebody, THE COMPANION, of whom she had never in her life thought before, she had omitted to leave a card last time, and she now left a note of explanation; she further, with her rheumatic head and arm out of the coach-window, sat, the wind blowing keen upon her, explaining to the porter and the footman, to discover whether her former tickets had gone safely up to Lady St. James; and on the present occasion, to make assurance doubly sure, she slid handsome expedition money into the servant's hand—'Sir, you will be sure to remember.'—'Oh certainly, your ladyship!'

  She well knew what dire offence has frequently been taken, what sad disasters have occurred, in the fashionable world, from the neglect of a porter in delivering, or of a footman in carrying up one of those talismanic cards. But, in spite of all her manoeuvres, no invitation to the party arrived next day. Pratt was next set to work. Miss Pratt was a most convenient go-between, who, in consequence of doing a thousand little services, to which few others of her rank in life would stoop, had obtained the ENTREE to a number of great houses, and was behind the scenes in many fashionable families. Pratt could find out, and Pratt could hint, and Pratt could manage to get things done cleverly—and hints were given, in all directions, to WORK ROUND to Lady St. James. But still they did not take effect. At last Pratt suggested that, perhaps, though everything else had failed, dried salmon might be tried with success. Lord Clonbrony had just had some uncommonly good from Ireland, which Pratt knew Lady St. James would like to have at her supper, because a certain personage, whom she would not name, was particularly fond of it.—Wheel within wheel in the fine world, as well as in the political world!—Bribes for all occasions, and for all ranks! The timely present was sent, accepted with many thanks, and understood as it was meant. Per favour of this propitiatory offering, and of a promise of half a dozen pair of real Limerick gloves to Miss Pratt—a promise which Pratt clearly comprehended to be a conditional promise—the grand object was at length accomplished. The very day before the party was to take place came cards of invitation to Lady Clonbrony and to Miss Nugent, with Lady St. James's apologies; her ladyship was concerned to find that, by some negligence of her servants, these cards were not sent in proper time. 'How slight an apology will do from some people!' thought Miss Nugent; 'how eager to forgive, when it is for our interest or our pleasure; how well people act the being deceived, even when all parties know that they see the whole truth; and how low pride will stoop to gain its object!'

  Ashamed of the whole transaction, Miss Nugent earnestly wished that a refusal should be sent, and reminded her aunt of her rheumatism; but rheumatism and all other objections were overruled—Lady Clonbrony would go. It was just when this affair was thus, in her opinion, successfully settled, that Lord Colambre came in, with a countenance of unusual seriousness, his mind full of the melancholy scenes he had witnessed in his friend's family.

  'What is the matter; Colambre?'

  He related what had passed; he described the brutal conduct of Mordicai; the anguish of the mother and sisters; the distress of Mr. Berryl. Tears rolled down Miss Nugent's cheeks. Lady Clonbrony declared it was very shocking; listened with attention to all the particulars; but never failed to correct her son, whenever he said Mr. Berryl.

  'Sir ARTHUR Berryl, you mean.'

  She was, however, really touched with compassion when he spoke of Lady Berryl's destitute condition; and her son was going on to repeat what Mordicai had said to him, but Lady Clonbrony interrupted—

  'Oh, my dear Colambre! don't repeat that detestable man's impertinent speeches to me. If there is anything really about business, speak to your father. At any rate, don't tell us of it now, because I've a hundred things to do,' said her ladyship, hurrying out of the room, 'Grace—Grace Nugent! I want you!'

  Lord Colambre sighed deeply.

  'Don't despair,' said Miss Nugent, as she followed to obey her aunt's summons. 'Don't despair; don't attempt to speak to her again till to-morrow morning. Her head is now full of Lady St. James's party. When it is emptied of that, you will have a better chance. Never despair.'

  'Never, while you encourage me to hope—that any good can be done.'

  Lady Clonbrony was particularly glad that she had carried her point about this party at Lady St. James's; because, from the first private intimation that the Duchess of Torcaster was to be there, her ladyship flattered herself that the long-desired introduction might then be accomplished. But of this hope Lady St. James had likewise received intimation from the double-dealing Miss Pratt; and a warning note was despatched to the duchess to let her grace know that circumstances had occurred which had rendered it impossible not to ask THE CLONBRONIES. An excuse, of course, for not going to this party was sent by the duchess—her grace did not like large parties—she would have the pleasure of accepting Lady St. James's invitation for her select party on Wednesday the 10th. Into these select parties Lady Clonbrony had never been admitted. In return for her great entertainments she was invited to great entertainments, to large parties; but farther she could never penetrate.

  At Lady St, James's, and with her set, Lady Clonbrony suffered a different kind of mortification from that which Lady Langdale and Mrs. Dareville made her endure. She was safe from the witty raillery, the sly innuendo, the insolent mimicry; but she was kept at a cold, impassable distance, by ceremony—'So far shalt thou go, and no farther' was expressed in every look, in every word, and in a thousand different ways.

  By the most punctilious respect and nice regard to precedency, even by words of courtesy—'Your ladyship does me honour,' etc.—Lady St. James contrived to mortify and to mark the difference between those with whom she was, and with whom she was not, upon terms of intimacy and equality. Thus the ancient grandees of Spain drew a line of demarcation between themselves and the newly-created nobility. Whenever or wherever they met, they treated the new nobles with the utmost respect, never addressed them but with all their titles, with low bows, and with all the appearance of being, with the most perfect consideration, anything but their equals; whilst towards one another the grandees laid aside their state, and omitting their titles, it was, 'Alcala-Medina-Sidonia-Infantado,' and a freedom and familiarity which marked equality. Entrenched in etiquette in this manner, and mocked with marks of respect, it was impossible either to intrude or to complain of being excluded.

  At supper at Lady St. James's, Lady Clonbrony's present was pronounced by some gentleman to be remarkably high flavoured. This observation turned the conversation to Irish commodities and Ireland. Lady Clonbrony, possessed by the idea that it was disadvantageous to appear as an Irishwoman, or as a favourer of Ireland, began to be embarrassed by Lady St. James's repeated thanks. Had it been in her power to offer anything else with propriety, she would not have thought of sending her ladyship anything from Ireland. Vexed by the questions that were asked her about HER COUNTRY, Lady Clonbrony, as usual, denied it to be her country, and went on to depreciate and abuse everything Irish; to declare that there was no possibility of living in Ireland; and that, for her own part, she was resolved never to return thither. Lady St. James, preserving perfect silence, let her go on. Lady Clonbrony, imagining that this silence arose from coincidence of opinion, proceeded with all the eloquence she possessed, which was very little, repeating the same exclamations, and reiterating her vow of perpetual expatriation; till at last an elderly lady, who was a stranger to her, and whom she had till this moment scarcely noticed, took up the defence of Ireland with much warmth and energy: the eloquence with which she spoke, and the respect with which she was heard, astonished Lady Clonbrony.