At dinner Phineas sat between Mrs Bonteen and the Duchess of St Bungay, and did not find himself very happy. At the other end of the table the Duke, – the great Duke, was seated at Lady Glencora's right hand, and on his other side Fortune had placed Madame Max Goesler. The greatest interest which Phineas had during the dinner was in watching the operations, – the triumphantly successful operations of that lady. Before dinner she had been wounded by the Duke. The Duke had not condescended to accord the honour of his little bow of graciousness to some little flattering morsel of wit which the lady had uttered on his behoof. She had said a sharp word or two in her momentary anger to Phineas; but when Fortune was so good to her in that matter of her place at dinner, she was not fool enough to throw away her chance. Throughout the soup and fish she was very quiet. She said a word or two after her first glass of champagne. The Duke refused two dishes, one after another, and then she glided into conversation. By the time that he had his roast mutton before him she was in full play, and as she eat her peach, the Duke was bending over her with his most gracious smile.
‘Didn't you think the session was very long, Mr Finn?’ said the Duchess to Phineas.
‘Very long indeed, Duchess,’ said Phineas, with his attention still fixed on Madame Max Goesler.
‘The Duke found it very troublesome.’
‘I daresay he did,’ said Phineas. That duke and that duchess were no more than any other man and any other man's wife. The session had not been longer to the Duke of St Bungay than to all the public servants. Phineas had the greatest possible respect for the Duke of St Bungay, but he could not take much interest in the wailings of the Duchess on her husband's behalf.
‘And things do seem to be so very uncomfortable now,’ said the Duchess, – thinking partly of the resignation of Mr Mildmay, and partly of the fact that her own old peculiar maid who had lived with her for thirty years had retired into private life.
‘Not so very bad, Duchess, I hope,’ said Phineas, observing that at this moment Madame Goesler's eyes were brilliant with triumph. Then there came upon him a sudden ambition, – that he would like to ‘cut out’ the Duke of Omnium in the estimation of Madame Max Goesler. The brightness of Madame Max Goesler's eyes had not been thrown away upon our hero.
Violet Effingham came at the appointed time, and, to the surprise of Phineas, was brought to Matching by Lord Brentford. Phineas at first thought that it was intended that the Earl and his son should meet and make up their quarrel at Mr Palliser's house. But Lord Brentford stayed only one night, and Phineas on the next morning heard the whole history of his coming and going from Violet. ‘I have almost been on my knees to him to stay,’ she said. ‘Indeed, I did go on my knees, – actually on my knees.’
‘And what did he say?’
He put his arm round me and kissed me, and, – and, – I cannot tell you all that he said. But it ended in this, – that if Chiltern can be made to go to Saulsby, fatted calves without stint will be killed. I shall do all I can to make him go; and so must you, Mr Finn. Of course that silly affair in foreign parts is not to make any difference between you two.’
Phineas smiled, and said he would do his best, and looked up into her face, and was just able to talk to her as though things were going comfortably with him. But his heart was very cold. As Violet had spoken to him about Lord Chiltern there had come upon him, for the first time, – for the first time since he had known that Lord Chiltern had been refused, – an idea, a doubt, whether even yet Violet might not become Lord Chiltern's wife. His heart was very sad, but he struggled on, – declaring that it was incumbent on them both to bring together the father and son.
‘I am so glad to hear you say so, Mr Finn,’ said Violet. ‘I really do believe that you can do more towards it than any one else. Lord Chiltern would think nothing of my advice, – would hardly speak to me on such a subject. But he respects you as well as likes you, and not the less because of what has occurred.’
How was it that Violet should know aught of the respect or liking felt by this rejected suitor for that other suitor, – who had also been rejected? And how was it that she was thus able to talk of one of them to the other, as though neither of them had ever come forward with such a suit? Phineas felt his position to be so strange as to be almost burdensome. He had told Violet, when she had refused him, very plainly, that he should come again to her, and ask once more for the great gift which he coveted. But he could not ask again now. In the first place, there was that in her manner which made him sure that were he to do so, he would ask in vain; and then he felt that she was placing a special confidence in him, against which he would commit a sin were he to use her present intimacy with him for purposes of making love. They two were to put their shoulders together to help Lord Chiltern, and while doing so he could not continue a suit which would be felt by both of them to be hostile to Lord Chiltern. There might be opportunity for a chance word, and if so the chance word should be spoken; but he could not make a deliberate attack, such as he had made in Portman Square. Violet also probably understood that she had not now been caught in a mousetrap.
The Duke was to spend four days at Matching, and on the third day, – the day before Lord Chiltern was expected, – he was to be seen riding with Madame Max Goesler by his side. Madame Max Goesler was known as a perfect horsewoman, – one indeed who was rather fond of going a little fast on horseback, and who rode well to hounds. But the Duke seldom moved out of a walk, and on this occasion Madame Max was as steady in her seat and almost as slow as the mounted ghost in Don Juan.72 But it was said by some there, especially by Mrs Bonteen, that the conversation between them was not slow. And on the next morning the Duke and Madame Max Goesler were together again before luncheon, standing on a terrace at the back of the house, looking down on a party who were playing croquet on the lawn.
‘Do you never play?’ said the Duke.
‘Oh yes; – one does everything a little.’
‘I am sure you would play well. Why do you not play now?’
‘No; – I shall not play now.’
‘I should like to see you with your mallet.’
‘I am sorry your Grace cannot be gratified. I have played croquet till I am tired of it, and have come to think it is only fit for boys and girls. The great thing is to give them opportunities for flirting, and it does that.’
‘And do you never flirt, Madame Goesler?’
‘Never at croquet, Duke.’
‘And what with you is the choicest time?’
‘That depends on so many things, – and so much on the chosen person. What do you recommend?’
‘Ah, – I am so ignorant. I can recommend nothing.’
‘What do you say to a mountain-top at dawn on a summer day?’ asked Madame Max Goesler.
‘You make me shiver,’ said the Duke.
‘Or a boat on a lake on a summer evening, or a good lead after hounds with nobody else within three fields, or the bottom of a saltmine, or the deck of an ocean steamer, or a military hospital in time of war, or a railway journey from Paris to Marseilles?’
‘Madame Max Goesler, you have the most uncomfortable ideas.’
‘I have no doubt your Grace has tried each of them, – successfully. But perhaps, after all, a comfortable chair over a good fire, in a pretty room, beats everything.'
‘I think it does, – certainly,’ said the Duke. Then he whispered something at which Madame Max Goesler blushed and smiled, and immediately after that she followed those who had already gone in to lunch.
Mrs Bonteen had been hovering round the spot on the terrace on which the Duke and Madame Max Goesler had been standing, looking on with envious eyes, meditating some attack, some interruption, some excuse for an interpolation, but her courage had failed her and she had not dared to approach. The Duke had known nothing of the hovering propinquity of Mrs Bonteen, but Madame Goesler had seen and had understood it all.
‘Dear Mrs Bonteen,’ she said afterwards, ‘why did you not come and join us? The
Duke was so pleasant.’
‘Two is company, and three is none,’ said Mrs Bonteen, who in her anger was hardly able to choose her words quite as well as she might have done had she been more cool.
‘Our friend Madame Max has made quite a new conquest,’ said Mrs Bonteen to Lady Glencora.
‘I am so pleased,’ said Lady Glencora, with apparently unaffected delight. ‘It is such a great thing to get anybody to amuse my uncle. You see everybody cannot talk to him, and he will not talk to everybody.’
‘He talked enough to her in all conscience,’ said Mrs Bonteen, who was now more angry than ever.
CHAPTER 49
The Duellists Meet
LORD CHILTERN arrived, and Phineas was a little nervous as to their meeting. He came back from shooting on the day in question, and was told by the servant that Lord Chiltern was in the house. Phineas went into the billiard-room in his knickerbockers, thinking probably that he might be there, and then into the drawing-room, and at last into the library, – but Lord Chiltern was not to be found. At last he came across Violet.
‘Have you seen him?’ he asked.
‘Yes; – he was with me half an hour since, walking round the gardens.’
‘And how is he? Come; tell me something about him.’
‘I never knew him to be more pleasant. He would give no promise about Saulsby, but he did not say that he would not go.’
‘Does he know that I am here?’
‘Yes; – I told him so. I told him how much pleasure I should have in seeing you two together, – as friends.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘He laughed, and said you were the best fellow in the world. You see I am obliged to be explicit.’
‘But why did he laugh?’ Phineas asked.
‘He did not tell me, but I suppose it was because he was thinking of a little trip he once took to Belgium, and he perceived that I knew all about it.’
‘I wonder who told you. But never mind. I do not mean to ask any questions. As I do not like that our first meeting should be before all the people in the drawing-room, I will go to him in his own room.’
‘Do, do; that will be so nice of you.’
Phineas sent his card up by a servant, and in a few minutes was standing with his hand on the lock of Lord Chilter's door. The last time he had seen this man, they had met with pistols in their hands to shoot at each other, and Lord Chiltern had in truth done his very best to shoot his opponent. The cause of quarrel was the same between them as ever. Phineas had not given up Violet, and had no intention of giving her up. And he had received no intimation whatever from his rival that there was to be a truce between them. Phineas had indeed written in friendship to Lord Chiltern, but he had received no answer; – and nothing of certainty was to be gathered from the report which Violet had just made. It might well be that Lord Chiltern would turn upon him now in his wrath, and that there would be some scene which in a strange house would be obviously objectionable. Nevertheless he had resolved that even that would be better than a chance encounter among strangers in a drawing-room. So the door was opened and the two men met.
‘Well, old fellow,’ said Lord Chiltern, laughing. Then all doubt was over, and in a moment Phineas was shaking his former, – and present friend, – warmly by the hand. ‘So we've come to be an Under-Secretary, have we? – and all that kind of thing.’
‘I had to get into harness, – when the harness offered itself,’ said Phineas.
‘I suppose so. It's a deuce of a bore, isn't it?’
‘I always liked work, you know.’
‘I thought you liked hunting better. You used to ride as if you did. There's Bonebreaker back again in the stable for you. That poor fool who bought him could do nothing with him, and I let him have his money back.’
‘I don't see why you should have done that.’
‘Because I was the biggest fool of the two. Do you remember when that brute got me down under the bank in the river? That was about the nearest touch I ever had. Lord bless me; – how he did squeeze me! So here you are; – staying with the Pallisers, – one of a Government party I suppose. But what are you going to do for a seat, my friend?’
‘Don't talk about that yet, Chiltern.’
‘A sore subject, – isn't it? I think they have been quite right, you know, to put Loughton into the melting-pot, – though I'm sorry enough for your sake.’
‘Quite right,’ said Phineas.
‘And yet you voted against it, old chap? But, come; I'm not going to be down upon you. So my father has been here?’
‘Yes; – he was here for a day or two.’
‘Violet has just been telling me. You and he are as good friends as ever?’
‘I trust we are.’
‘He never heard of that little affair?’ And Lord Chiltern nodded his head, intending to indicate the direction of Blankenberg.
‘I do not think he has as yet.’
‘So Violet tells me. Of course you know that she has heard all about it.’
‘I have reason to suppose as much.’
‘And so does Laura.’
‘I told her myself,’ said Phineas.
‘The deuce you did. But I dare say it was for the best. It's a pity you had not proclaimed it at Charing Cross, and then nobody would have believed a word about it. Of course my father will hear it some day.’
‘You are going to Saulsby, I hope, Chiltern?’
‘That question is easier asked than answered. It is quite true that the great difficulty has been got over. Laura has had her money. And if my father will only acknowledge that he has wronged me throughout, from beginning to end, I will go to Saulsby to-morrow; – and would cut you out at Loughton the next day, only that Loughton is not Loughton any longer.’
‘You cannot expect your father to do that.’
‘No; – and therefore there is a difficulty. So you've had that awfully Duke here. How did you get on with him?’
‘Admirably. He condescended to do something which he called shaking hands with me.’
‘He is the greatest old dust73 out,’ said Lord Chiltern, disrespectfully. ‘Did he take any notice of Violet?’
‘Not that I observed.’
‘He ought not to be allowed into the same room with her.’ After that there was a short pause, as Phineas felt some hesitation in speaking of Miss Effingham to Lord Chiltern. ‘And how do you get on with her?’ asked Lord Chiltern. Here was a question for a man to answer. The question was so hard to be answered, that Phineas did not at first make any attempt to answer it. ‘You know exactly the ground that I stand on,’ continued Lord Chiltern. ‘She has refused me three times. Have you been more fortunate?’
Lord Chiltern, as he asked his question, looked full into Finn's face in a manner that was irresistible. His look was not one of anger nor even of pride. It was not, indeed, without a strong dash of fun. But such as it was it showed Phineas that Lord Chiltern intended to have an answer. ‘No,’ said he at last, ‘I have not been more fortunate.’
‘Perhaps you have changed your mind,’ said his host.
‘No: – I have not changed my mind,’ said Phineas quickly.
‘How stands it then? Come; – let us be honest to each other. I told you down at Willingford that I would quarrel with any man who attempted to cut me out with Violet Effingham. You made up your mind that you would do so, and therefore I quarrelled with you. But we can't always be fighting duels.’
‘I hope we may not have to fight another.’
‘No: – it would be absurd,’ said Lord Chiltern. ‘I rather think that what we did was absurd. But upon my life I did not see any other way out of it. However, that is over. How is it to be now?’
‘What am I to say in answer to that?’ asked Phineas.
‘Just the truth. You have asked her, I suppose?’
‘Yes; – I have asked her.’
‘And she has refused you?’
‘Yes; – she has refused me.’
‘And
you mean to ask her again?’
‘I shall; – if I ever think that there is a chance. Indeed, Chiltern, I believe I shall whether I think that I have any chance or not.’
‘Then we start fairly, Finn. I certainly shall do so. I believe I once told you that I never would; – but that was long before I suspected that you would enter for the same plate. What a man says on such a matter when he is down in the mouth goes for nothing. Now we understand each other, and you had better go and dress. The bell rang nearly half an hour ago, and my fellow is hanging about outside the door.’
The interview had in one respect been very pleasant to Phineas, and in another it had been very bitter. It was pleasant to him to know that he and Lord Chiltern were again friends. It was a delight to him to feel that this half-savage but high-spirited young nobleman, who had been so anxious to fight with him and to shoot him, was nevertheless ready to own that he had behaved well. Lord Chiltern had in fact acknowledged that though he had been anxious to blow out our hero's brains, he was aware all the time that our hero was a good sort of fellow. Phineas understood this, and felt that it was pleasant. But with this understanding, and accompanying this pleasure, there was a conviction in his heart that the distance between Lord Chiltern and Violet would daily grow to be less and still less, – and that Lord Chiltern could afford to be generous. If Miss Effingham could teach herself to be fond of Lord Chiltern, what had he, Phineas Finn, to offer in opposition to the claims of such a suitor?
Phineas Finn, the Irish Member Page 51