CHAPTER LX.
MISS LONGESTAFFE'S LOVER.
A few days before that period in our story which we have now reached,Miss Longestaffe was seated in Lady Monogram's back drawing-room,discussing the terms on which the two tickets for Madame Melmotte'sgrand reception had been transferred to Lady Monogram,--the place onthe cards for the names of the friends whom Madame Melmotte had thehonour of inviting to meet the Emperor and the Princes, having beenleft blank; and the terms also on which Miss Longestaffe had beenasked to spend two or three days with her dear friend Lady Monogram.Each lady was disposed to get as much and to give as little aspossible,--in which desire the ladies carried out the ordinarypractice of all parties to a bargain. It had of course been settledthat Lady Monogram was to have the two tickets,--for herself andher husband,--such tickets at that moment standing very high in themarket. In payment for these valuable considerations, Lady Monogramwas to undertake to chaperon Miss Longestaffe at the entertainment,to take Miss Longestaffe as a visitor for three days, and to have oneparty at her own house during the time, so that it might be seen thatMiss Longestaffe had other friends in London besides the Melmotte'son whom to depend for her London gaieties. At this moment MissLongestaffe felt herself justified in treating the matter as thoughshe were hardly receiving a fair equivalent. The Melmotte ticketswere certainly ruling very high. They had just culminated. Theyfell a little soon afterwards, and at ten P.M. on the night of theentertainment were hardly worth anything. At the moment which we havenow in hand, there was a rush for them. Lady Monogram had alreadysecured the tickets. They were in her desk. But, as will sometimesbe the case in a bargain, the seller was complaining that as she hadparted with her goods too cheap, some make-weight should be added tothe stipulated price.
"As for that, my dear," said Miss Longestaffe, who, since the rise inMelmotte stock generally, had endeavoured to resume something of herold manners, "I don't see what you mean at all. You meet Lady JuliaGoldsheiner everywhere, and her father-in-law is Mr. Brehgert'sjunior partner."
"Lady Julia is Lady Julia, my dear, and young Mr. Goldsheiner has,in some sort of way, got himself in. He hunts, and Damask saysthat he is one of the best shots at Hurlingham. I never met old Mr.Goldsheiner anywhere."
"I have."
"Oh, yes, I dare say. Mr. Melmotte, of course, entertains all theCity people. I don't think Sir Damask would like me to ask Mr.Brehgert to dine here." Lady Monogram managed everything herself withreference to her own parties; invited all her own guests, and nevertroubled Sir Damask,--who, again, on his side, had his own set offriends; but she was very clever in the use which she made of herhusband. There were some aspirants who really were taught to thinkthat Sir Damask was very particular as to the guests whom he welcomedto his own house.
"May I speak to Sir Damask about it?" asked Miss Longestaffe, who wasvery urgent on the occasion.
"Well, my dear, I really don't think you ought to do that. There arelittle things which a man and his wife must manage together withoutinterference."
"Nobody can ever say that I interfered in any family. But really,Julia, when you tell me that Sir Damask cannot receive Mr. Brehgert,it does sound odd. As for City people, you know as well as I do, thatthat kind of thing is all over now. City people are just as good asWest-end people."
"A great deal better, I dare say. I'm not arguing about that. I don'tmake the lines; but there they are; and one gets to know in a sortof way what they are. I don't pretend to be a bit better than myneighbours. I like to see people come here whom other people who comehere will like to meet. I'm big enough to hold my own, and so is SirDamask. But we ain't big enough to introduce new-comers. I don'tsuppose there's anybody in London understands it better than you do,Georgiana, and therefore it's absurd my pretending to teach you. Igo pretty well everywhere, as you are aware; and I shouldn't know Mr.Brehgert if I were to see him."
"You'll meet him at the Melmottes', and, in spite of all you saidonce, you're glad enough to go there."
"Quite true, my dear. I don't think that you are just the person tothrow that in my teeth; but never mind that. There's the butcherround the corner in Bond Street, or the man who comes to do my hair.I don't at all think of asking them to my house. But if they weresuddenly to turn out wonderful men, and go everywhere, no doubt Ishould be glad to have them here. That's the way we live, and you areas well used to it as I am. Mr. Brehgert at present to me is like thebutcher round the corner." Lady Monogram had the tickets safe underlock and key, or I think she would hardly have said this.
"He is not a bit like a butcher," said Miss Longestaffe, blazing upin real wrath.
"I did not say that he was."
"Yes, you did; and it was the unkindest thing you could possibly say.It was meant to be unkind. It was monstrous. How would you like it ifI said that Sir Damask was like a hair-dresser?"
"You can say so if you please. Sir Damask drives four in hand, ridesas though he meant to break his neck every winter, is one of the bestshots going, and is supposed to understand a yacht as well as anyother gentleman out. And I'm rather afraid that before he was marriedhe used to box with all the prize-fighters, and to be a little toofree behind the scenes. If that makes a man like a hair-dresser,well, there he is."
"How proud you are of his vices."
"He's very good-natured, my dear, and as he does not interfere withme, I don't interfere with him. I hope you'll do as well. I dare sayMr. Brehgert is good-natured."
"He's an excellent man of business, and is making a very largefortune."
"And has five or six grown-up children, who, no doubt, will be acomfort."
"If I don't mind them, why need you? You have none at all, and youfind it lonely enough."
"Not at all lonely. I have everything that I desire. How hard you aretrying to be ill-natured, Georgiana."
"Why did you say that he was a--butcher?"
"I said nothing of the kind. I didn't even say that he was like abutcher. What I did say was this,--that I don't feel inclined to riskmy own reputation on the appearance of new people at my table. Ofcourse, I go in for what you call fashion. Some people can dare toask anybody they meet in the streets. I can't. I've my own line, andI mean to follow it. It's hard work, I can tell you; and it wouldbe harder still if I wasn't particular. If you like Mr. Brehgert tocome here on Tuesday evening, when the rooms will be full, you canask him; but as for having him to dinner, I--won't--do--it." So thematter was at last settled. Miss Longestaffe did ask Mr. Brehgert forthe Tuesday evening, and the two ladies were again friends.
Perhaps Lady Monogram, when she illustrated her position by anallusion to a butcher and a hair-dresser, had been unaware that Mr.Brehgert had some resemblance to the form which men in that tradeare supposed to bear. Let us at least hope that she was so. He was afat, greasy man, good-looking in a certain degree, about fifty, withhair dyed black, and beard and moustache dyed a dark purple colour.The charm of his face consisted in a pair of very bright black eyes,which were, however, set too near together in his face for thegeneral delight of Christians. He was stout;--fat all over ratherthan corpulent,--and had that look of command in his face which hasbecome common to master-butchers, probably by long intercourse withsheep and oxen. But Mr. Brehgert was considered to be a very good manof business, and was now regarded as being, in a commercial point ofview, the leading member of the great financial firm of which he wasthe second partner. Mr. Todd's day was nearly done. He walked aboutconstantly between Lombard Street, the Exchange, and the Bank,and talked much to merchants; he had an opinion too of his own onparticular cases; but the business had almost got beyond him, and Mr.Brehgert was now supposed to be the moving spirit of the firm. Hewas a widower, living in a luxurious villa at Fulham with a family,not indeed grown up, as Lady Monogram had ill-naturedly said, butwhich would be grown up before long, varying from an eldest son ofeighteen, who had just been placed at a desk in the office, to theyoungest girl of twelve, who was at school at Brighton. He was a manwho always asked for what he wanted; and ha
ving made up his mind thathe wanted a second wife, had asked Miss Georgiana Longestaffe to fillthat situation. He had met her at the Melmottes', had entertainedher, with Madame Melmotte and Marie, at Beaudesert, as he calledhis villa, had then proposed in the square, and two days after hadreceived an assenting answer in Bruton Street.
Poor Miss Longestaffe! Although she had acknowledged the fact to LadyMonogram in her desire to pave the way for the reception of herselfinto society as a married woman, she had not as yet found courage totell her family. The man was absolutely a Jew;--not a Jew that hadbeen, as to whom there might possibly be a doubt whether he or hisfather or his grandfather had been the last Jew of the family; buta Jew that was. So was Goldsheiner a Jew, whom Lady Julia Start hadmarried,--or at any rate had been one a very short time before he ranaway with that lady. She counted up ever so many instances on herfingers of "decent people" who had married Jews or Jewesses. LordFrederic Framlinghame had married a girl of the Berrenhoffers; andMr. Hart had married a Miss Chute. She did not know much of MissChute, but was certain that she was a Christian. Lord Frederic's wifeand Lady Julia Goldsheiner were seen everywhere. Though she hardlyknew how to explain the matter even to herself, she was sure thatthere was at present a general heaving-up of society on this matter,and a change in progress which would soon make it a matter ofindifference whether anybody was Jew or Christian. For herself sheregarded the matter not at all, except as far as it might be regardedby the world in which she wished to live. She was herself aboveall personal prejudices of that kind. Jew, Turk, or infidel wasnothing to her. She had seen enough of the world to be aware thather happiness did not lie in that direction, and could not depend inthe least on the religion of her husband. Of course she would go tochurch herself. She always went to church. It was the proper thing todo. As to her husband, though she did not suppose that she could everget him to church,--nor perhaps would it be desirable,--she thoughtthat she might induce him to go nowhere, so that she might be able topass him off as a Christian. She knew that such was the Christianityof young Goldsheiner, of which the Starts were now boasting.
Had she been alone in the world she thought that she could havelooked forward to her destiny with complacency; but she was afraid ofher father and mother. Lady Pomona was distressingly old-fashioned,and had so often spoken with horror even of the approach of aJew,--and had been so loud in denouncing the iniquity of Christianswho allowed such people into their houses! Unfortunately, too,Georgiana in her earlier days had re-echoed all her mother'ssentiments. And then her father,--if he had ever earned for himselfthe right to be called a Conservative politician by holding a realopinion of his own,--it had been on that matter of admitting the Jewsinto parliament. When that had been done he was certain that theglory of England was sunk for ever. And since that time, whenevercreditors were more than ordinarily importunate, when Slow andBideawhile could do nothing for him, he would refer to that fatalmeasure as though it was the cause of every embarrassment which hadharassed him. How could she tell parents such as these that she wasengaged to marry a man who at the present moment went to synagogue ona Saturday and carried out every other filthy abomination common tothe despised people?
That Mr. Brehgert was a fat, greasy man of fifty, conspicuous forhair-dye, was in itself distressing:--but this minor distresswas swallowed up in the greater. Miss Longestaffe was a girlpossessing considerable discrimination, and was able to weigh herown possessions in just scales. She had begun life with very highaspirations, believing in her own beauty, in her mother's fashion,and her father's fortune. She had now been ten years at the work, andwas aware that she had always flown a little too high for her mark atthe time. At nineteen and twenty and twenty-one she had thought thatall the world was before her. With her commanding figure, regularlong features, and bright complexion, she had regarded herself asone of the beauties of the day, and had considered herself entitledto demand wealth and a coronet. At twenty-two, twenty-three, andtwenty-four any young peer, or peer's eldest son, with a house intown and in the country, might have sufficed. Twenty-five and sixhad been the years for baronets and squires; and even a leadingfashionable lawyer or two had been marked by her as sufficientsince that time. But now she was aware that hitherto she had alwaysfixed her price a little too high. On three things she was stilldetermined,--that she would not be poor, that she would not bebanished from London, and that she would not be an old maid. "Mamma,"she had often said, "there's one thing certain. I shall never do tobe poor." Lady Pomona had expressed full concurrence with her child."And, mamma, to do as Sophia is doing would kill me. Fancy having tolive at Toodlam all one's life with George Whitstable!" Lady Pomonahad agreed to this also, though she thought that Toodlam Hall was avery nice home for her elder daughter. "And, mamma, I should driveyou and papa mad if I were to stay at home always. And what wouldbecome of me when Dolly was master of everything?" Lady Pomona,looking forward as well as she was able to the time at which sheshould herself have departed, when her dower and dower-house wouldhave reverted to Dolly, acknowledged that Georgiana should provideherself with a home of her own before that time.
And how was this to be done? Lovers with all the glories and allthe graces are supposed to be plentiful as blackberries by girls ofnineteen, but have been proved to be rare hothouse fruits by girlsof twenty-nine. Brehgert was rich, would live in London, and wouldbe a husband. People did such odd things now and "lived them down,"that she could see no reason why she should not do this and live thisdown. Courage was the one thing necessary,--that and perseverance.She must teach herself to talk about Brehgert as Lady Monogram didof Sir Damask. She had plucked up so much courage as had enabled herto declare her fate to her old friend,--remembering as she did sohow in days long past she and her friend Julia Triplex had scatteredtheir scorn upon some poor girl who had married a man with a Jewishname,--whose grandfather had possibly been a Jew. "Dear me," saidLady Monogram. "Todd, Brehgert, and Goldsheiner! Mr. Todd is--one ofus, I suppose."
"Yes," said Georgiana boldly, "and Mr. Brehgert is a Jew. His name isEzekiel Brehgert, and he is a Jew. You can say what you like aboutit."
"I don't say anything about it, my dear."
"And you can think anything you like. Things are changed since youand I were younger."
"Very much changed, it appears," said Lady Monogram. Sir Damask'sreligion had never been doubted, though except on the occasion of hismarriage no acquaintance of his had probably ever seen him in church.
But to tell her father and mother required a higher spirit thanshe had shown even in her communication to Lady Monogram, and thatspirit had not as yet come to her. On the morning before she leftthe Melmottes in Bruton Street, her lover had been with her. TheMelmottes of course knew of the engagement and quite approved of it.Madame Melmotte rather aspired to credit for having had so happyan affair arranged under her auspices. It was some set-off againstMarie's unfortunate escapade. Mr. Brehgert, therefore, had beenallowed to come and go as he pleased, and on that morning he hadpleased to come. They were sitting alone in some back room, andBrehgert was pressing for an early day. "I don't think we need talkof that yet, Mr. Brehgert," she said.
"You might as well get over the difficulty and call me Ezekiel atonce," he remarked. Georgiana frowned, and made no soft littleattempt at the name as ladies in such circumstances are wont todo. "Mrs. Brehgert"--he alluded of course to the mother of hischildren--"used to call me Ezzy."
"Perhaps I shall do so some day," said Miss Longestaffe, looking ather lover, and asking herself why she should not have been able tohave the house and the money and the name of the wife without thetroubles appertaining. She did not think it possible that she shouldever call him Ezzy.
"And ven shall it be? I should say as early in August as possible."
"In August!" she almost screamed. It was already July.
"Vy not, my dear? Ve would have our little holiday in Germany,--atVienna. I have business there, and know many friends." Then hepressed her hard to fix some day in the next month. It would beexpedien
t that they should be married from the Melmottes' house, andthe Melmottes would leave town some time in August. There was truthin this. Unless married from the Melmottes' house, she must go downto Caversham for the occasion,--which would be intolerable. No;--shemust separate herself altogether from father and mother, and becomeone with the Melmottes and the Brehgerts,--till she could live itdown and make a position for herself. If the spending of money coulddo it, it should be done.
"I must at any rate ask mamma about it," said Georgiana. Mr.Brehgert, with the customary good-humour of his people, was satisfiedwith the answer, and went away promising that he would meet his loveat the great Melmotte reception. Then she sat silent, thinking howshe should declare the matter to her family. Would it not be betterfor her to say to them at once that there must be a division amongthem,--an absolute breaking off of all old ties, so that it should betacitly acknowledged that she, Georgiana, had gone out from amongthe Longestaffes altogether, and had become one with the Melmottes,Brehgerts, and Goldsheiners?
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