Phineas Redux

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XXX.

  REGRETS.

  Madame Goesler remained at Matching till after the return of Mr.Palliser--or, as we must now call him, the Duke of Omnium--fromGatherum Castle, and was therefore able to fight her own battlewith him respecting the gems and the money which had been left her.He brought to her with his own hands the single ring which she hadrequested, and placed it on her finger. "The goldsmith will soon makethat all right," she said, when it was found to be much too large forthe largest finger on which she could wear a ring. "A bit shall betaken out, but I will not have it reset."

  "You got the lawyer's letter and the inventory, Madame Goesler?"

  "Yes, indeed. What surprises me is that the dear old man should neverhave spoken of so magnificent a collection of gems."

  "Orders have been given that they shall be packed."

  "They may be packed or unpacked, of course, as your Grace pleases,but pray do not connect me with the packing."

  "You must be connected with it."

  "But I wish not to be connected with it, Duke. I have written to thelawyer to renounce the legacy, and, if your Grace persists, I mustemploy a lawyer of my own to renounce them after some legal form.Pray do not let the case be sent to me, or there will be so muchtrouble, and we shall have another great jewel robbery. I won't takeit in, and I won't have the money, and I will have my own way. LadyGlen will tell you that I can be very obstinate when I please."

  "Lady Glen will tell you that I can be veryobstinate when I please."]

  Lady Glencora had told him so already. She had been quite sure thather friend would persist in her determination as to the legacy, andhad thought that her husband should simply accept Madame Goesler'sassurances to that effect. But a man who had been Chancellor of theExchequer could not deal with money, or even with jewels, so lightly.He assured his wife that such an arrangement was quite out of thequestion. He remarked that property was property, by which he meantto intimate that the real owner of substantial wealth could not beallowed to disembarrass himself of his responsibilities or striphimself of his privileges by a few generous but idle words. The lateDuke's will was a very serious thing, and it seemed to the heir thatthis abandoning of a legacy bequeathed by the Duke was a makinglight of the Duke's last act and deed. To refuse money in suchcircumstances was almost like refusing rain from heaven, or warmthfrom the sun. It could not be done. The things were her property, andthough she might, of course, chuck them into the street, they wouldno less be hers. "But I won't have them, Duke," said Madame Goesler;and the late Chancellor of the Exchequer found that no propositionmade by him in the House had ever been received with a firmeropposition. His wife told him that nothing he could say would be ofany avail, and rather ridiculed his idea of the solemnity of wills."You can't make a person take a thing because you write it down on athick bit of paper, any more than if you gave it her across a table.I understand it all, of course. She means to show that she didn'twant anything from the Duke. As she refused the name and title, shewon't have the money and jewels. You can't make her take them, andI'm quite sure you can't talk her over." The young Duke was notpersuaded, but had to give the battle up,--at any rate, for thepresent.

  On the 19th of March Madame Goesler returned to London, having beenat Matching Priory for more than three weeks. On her journey back toPark Lane many thoughts crowded on her mind. Had she, upon the whole,done well in reference to the Duke of Omnium? The last three years ofher life had been sacrificed to an old man with whom she had not intruth possessed aught in common. She had persuaded herself that therehad existed a warm friendship between them;--but of what nature couldhave been a friendship with one whom she had not known till he hadbeen in his dotage? What words of the Duke's speaking had she everheard with pleasure, except certain terms of affection which had beenhalf mawkish and half senile? She had told Phineas Finn, while ridinghome with him from Broughton Spinnies, that she had clung to the Dukebecause she loved him, but what had there been to produce such love?The Duke had begun his acquaintance with her by insulting her,--andhad then offered to make her his wife. This,--which would haveconferred upon her some tangible advantages, such as rank, andwealth, and a great name,--she had refused, thinking that the priceto be paid for them was too high, and that life might even yet havesomething better in store for her. After that she had permittedherself to become, after a fashion, head nurse to the old man, andin that pursuit had wasted three years of what remained to her ofher youth. People, at any rate, should not say of her that she hadaccepted payment for the three years' service by taking a casket ofjewels. She would take nothing that should justify any man in sayingthat she had been enriched by her acquaintance with the Duke ofOmnium. It might be that she had been foolish, but she would be morefoolish still were she to accept a reward for her folly. As it wasthere had been something of romance in it,--though the romance offriendship at the bedside of a sick and selfish old man had hardlybeen satisfactory.

  Even in her close connection with the present Duchess there wassomething which was almost hollow. Had there not been a compactbetween them, never expressed, but not the less understood? Hadnot her dear friend, Lady Glen, agreed to bestow upon her support,fashion, and all kinds of worldly good things,--on condition that shenever married the old Duke? She had liked Lady Glencora,--had enjoyedher friend's society, and been happy in her friend's company,--butshe had always felt that Lady Glencora's attraction to herself hadbeen simply on the score of the Duke. It was necessary that the Dukeshould be pampered and kept in good humour. An old man, let him beever so old, can do what he likes with himself and his belongings. Tokeep the Duke out of harm's way Lady Glencora had opened her arms toMadame Goesler. Such, at least, was the interpretation which MadameGoesler chose to give to the history of the last three years. Theyhad not, she thought, quite understood her. When once she had made upher mind not to marry the Duke, the Duke had been safe from her;--ashis jewels and money should be safe now that he was dead.

  Three years had passed by, and nothing had been done of that whichshe had intended to do. Three years had passed, which to her, withher desires, were so important. And yet she hardly knew what were herdesires, and had never quite defined her intentions. She told herselfon this very journey that the time had now gone by, and that inlosing these three years she had lost everything. As yet,--so shedeclared to herself now,--the world had done but little for her. Twoold men had loved her; one had become her husband, and the other hadasked to become so;--and to both she had done her duty. To both shehad been grateful, tender, and self-sacrificing. From the former shehad, as his widow, taken wealth which she valued greatly; but thewealth alone had given her no happiness. From the latter, and fromhis family, she had accepted a certain position. Some persons, highin repute and fashion, had known her before, but everybody knew hernow. And yet what had all this done for her? Dukes and duchesses,dinner-parties and drawing-rooms,--what did they all amount to? Whatwas it that she wanted?

  She was ashamed to tell herself that it was love. But she knewthis,--that it was necessary for her happiness that she should devoteherself to some one. All the elegancies and outward charms of lifewere delightful, if only they could be used as the means to some end.As an end themselves they were nothing. She had devoted herself tothis old man who was now dead, and there had been moments in whichshe had thought that that sufficed. But it had not sufficed, andinstead of being borne down by grief at the loss of her friend, shefound herself almost rejoicing at relief from a vexatious burden.Had she been a hypocrite then? Was it her nature to be false? Afterthat she reflected whether it might not be best for her to becomea devotee,--it did not matter much in what branch of the Christianreligion, so that she could assume some form of faith. The sourstrictness of the confident Calvinist or the asceticism of St.Francis might suit her equally,--if she could only believe in Calvinor in St. Francis. She had tried to believe in the Duke of Omnium,but there she had failed. There had been a saint at whose shrine shethought she could have worshipped with a constant and happy d
evotion,but that saint had repulsed her from his altar.

  Mr. Maule, Senior, not understanding much of all this, but stillunderstanding something, thought that he might perhaps be thesaint. He knew well that audacity in asking is a great merit in amiddle-aged wooer. He was a good deal older than the lady, who, inspite of all her experiences, was hardly yet thirty. But then hewas,--he felt sure,--very young for his age, whereas she was old.She was a widow; he was a widower. She had a house in town and anincome. He had a place in the country and an estate. She knew all thedukes and duchesses, and he was a man of family. She could make himcomfortably opulent. He could make her Mrs. Maule of Maule Abbey.She, no doubt, was good-looking. Mr. Maule, Senior, as he tied onhis cravat, thought that even in that respect there was no greatdisparity between them. Considering his own age, Mr. Maule, Senior,thought there was not perhaps a better-looking man than himself aboutPall Mall. He was a little stiff in the joints and moved ratherslowly, but what was wanting in suppleness was certainly made up indignity.

  He watched his opportunity, and called in Park Lane on the day afterMadame Goesler's return. There was already between them an amount ofacquaintance which justified his calling, and, perhaps, there hadbeen on the lady's part something of that cordiality of manner whichis wont to lead to intimate friendship. Mr. Maule had made himselfagreeable, and Madame Goesler had seemed to be grateful. He wasadmitted, and on such an occasion it was impossible not to begin theconversation about the "dear Duke." Mr. Maule could afford to talkabout the Duke, and to lay aside for a short time his own cause,as he had not suggested to himself the possibility of becomingpressingly tender on his own behalf on this particular occasion.Audacity in wooing is a great virtue, but a man must measure even hisvirtues. "I heard that you had gone to Matching, as soon as the poorDuke was taken ill," he said.

  She was in mourning, and had never for a moment thought of denyingthe peculiarity of the position she had held in reference to the oldman. She could not have been content to wear her ordinary colouredgarments after sitting so long by the side of the dying man. Ahired nurse may do so, but she had not been that. If there had beenhypocrisy in her friendship the hypocrisy must be maintained to theend.

  "Poor old man! I only came back yesterday."

  "I never had the pleasure of knowing his Grace," said Mr. Maule. "ButI have always heard him named as a nobleman of whom England mightwell be proud."

  Madame Goesler was not at the moment inclined to tell lies on thematter, and did not think that England had much cause to be proud ofthe Duke of Omnium. "He was a man who held a very peculiar position,"she said.

  "Most peculiar;--a man of infinite wealth, and of that specialdignity which I am sorry to say so many men of rank among us arethrowing aside as a garment which is too much for them. We can allwear coats, but it is not every one that can carry a robe. The Dukecarried his to the last." Madame Goesler remembered how he lookedwith his nightcap on, when he had lost his temper because they wouldnot let him have a glass of curacoa. "I don't know that we have anyone left that can be said to be his equal," continued Mr. Maule.

  "No one like him, perhaps. He was never married, you know."

  "But was once willing to marry," said Mr. Maule, "if all that wehear be true." Madame Goesler, without a smile and equally without afrown, looked as though the meaning of Mr. Maule's words had escapedher. "A grand old gentleman! I don't know that anybody will ever sayas much for his heir."

  "The men are very different."

  "Very different indeed. I dare say that Mr. Palliser, as Mr.Palliser, has been a useful man. But so is a coal-heaver a usefulman. The grace and beauty of life will be clean gone when we allbecome useful men."

  "I don't think we are near that yet."

  "Upon my word, Madame Goesler, I am not so sure about it. Here aresons of noblemen going into trade on every side of us. We have earlsdealing in butter, and marquises sending their peaches to market.There was nothing of that kind about the Duke. A great fortune hadbeen entrusted to him, and he knew that it was his duty to spend it.He did spend it, and all the world looked up to him. It must havebeen a great pleasure to you to know him so well."

  Madame Goesler was saved the necessity of making any answer to thisby the announcement of another visitor. The door was opened, andPhineas Finn entered the room. He had not seen Madame Goesler sincethey had been together at Harrington Hall, and had never before metMr. Maule. When riding home with the lady after their unsuccessfulattempt to jump out of the wood, Phineas had promised to call inPark Lane whenever he should learn that Madame Goesler was not atMatching. Since that the Duke had died, and the bond with Matching nolonger existed. It seemed but the other day that they were talkingabout the Duke together, and now the Duke was gone. "I see you are inmourning," said Phineas, as he still held her hand. "I must say oneword to condole with you for your lost friend."

  "Mr. Maule and I were now speaking of him," she said, as sheintroduced the two gentlemen. "Mr. Finn and I had the pleasure ofmeeting your son at Harrington Hall a few weeks since, Mr. Maule."

  "I heard that he had been there. Did you know the Duke, Mr. Finn?"

  "After the fashion in which such a one as I would know such a one asthe Duke, I knew him. He probably had forgotten my existence."

  "He never forgot any one," said Madame Goesler.

  "I don't know that I was ever introduced to him," continued Mr.Maule, "and I shall always regret it. I was telling Madame Goeslerhow profound a reverence I had for the Duke's character." Phineasbowed, and Madame Goesler, who was becoming tired of the Duke as asubject of conversation, asked some question as to what had beengoing on in the House. Mr. Maule, finding it to be improbable that heshould be able to advance his cause on that occasion, took his leave.The moment he was gone Madame Goesler's manner changed altogether.She left her former seat and came near to Phineas, sitting on a sofaclose to the chair he occupied; and as she did so she pushed her hairback from her face in a manner that he remembered well in formerdays.

  "I am so glad to see you," she said. "Is it not odd that he shouldhave gone so soon after what we were saying but the other day?"

  "You thought then that he would not last long."

  "Long is comparative. I did not think he would be dead within sixweeks, or I should not have been riding there. He was a burden to me,Mr. Finn."

  "I can understand that."

  "And yet I shall miss him sorely. He had given all the colour to mylife which it possessed. It was not very bright, but still it wascolour."

  "The house will be open to you just the same."

  "I shall not go there. I shall see Lady Glencora in town, of course;but I shall not go to Matching; and as to Gatherum Castle, I wouldnot spend another week there, if they would give it me. You haven'theard of his will?"

  "No;--not a word. I hope he remembered you,--to mention your name.You hardly wanted more."

  "Just so. I wanted no more than that."

  "It was made, perhaps, before you knew him."

  "He was always making it, and always altering it. He left me money,and jewels of enormous value."

  "I am so glad to hear it."

  "But I have refused to take anything. Am I not right?"

  "I don't know why you should refuse."

  "There are people who will say that--I was his mistress. If a womanbe young, a man's age never prevents such scandal. I don't know thatI can stop it, but I can perhaps make it seem to be less probable.And after all that has passed, I could not bear that the Pallisersshould think that I clung to him for what I could get. I should beeasier this way."

  "Whatever is best to be done, you will do it;--I know that."

  "Your praise goes beyond the mark, my friend. I can be both generousand discreet;--but the difficulty is to be true. I did take onething,--a black diamond that he always wore. I would show it you, butthe goldsmith has it to make it fit me. When does the great affaircome off at the House?"

  "The bill will be read again on Monday, the first."

  "What an unfor
tunate day!--You remember young Mr. Maule? Is he notlike his father? And yet in manners they are as unlike as possible."

  "What is the father?" Phineas asked.

  "A battered old beau about London, selfish and civil, pleasant andpenniless, and I should think utterly without a principle. Come againsoon. I am so anxious to hear that you are getting on. And you havegot to tell me all about that shooting with the pistol." Phineas ashe walked away thought that Madame Goesler was handsomer even thanshe used to be.