THE PRIME MINISTER

by DAVID SKILTON

  Mr Roby, senior, having escaped from the House, was of course the last, and had indeed kept all the other guests waiting half-an-hour, – as becomes a parliamentary magnate in the heat of the session. Mr Wharton, who had been early, saw all the other guests arrive, and among them Mr Ferdinand Lopez. There was also Mr Mills Happerton, – partner in Hunky and Sons, – with his wife, respecting whom Mr Wharton at once concluded that he was there as being the friend of Ferdinand Lopez. If so, how much influence must Ferdinand Lopez have in that house! Nevertheless, Mr Mills Happerton was in his way a great man, and a credit to Mrs Roby. And there were Sir Damask and Lady Monogram, who were people moving quite in the first circles. Sir Damask shot pigeons, and so did also Dick Roby, – whence had perhaps arisen an intimacy. But Lady Monogram was not at all a person to dine with Mrs Dick Roby without other cause than this. But a great official, among one’s acquaintance can do so much for one! It was probable that Lady Monogram’s presence was among the first fruits of the happy family reconciliation that had taken place. Then there was Mrs Leslie, a pretty widow, rather poor, who was glad to receive civilities from Mrs Roby, and was Emily Wharton’s pet aversion. Mrs Leslie had said impertinent things to her about Ferdinand Lopez, and she had snubbed Mrs Leslie. But Mrs Leslie was serviceable to Mrs Roby, and had now been asked to her great dinner party.

  But the two most illustrious guests have not yet been mentioned. Mrs Roby had secured a lord, – an absolute peer of Parliament! This was no less a man than Lord Mongrober, whose father had been a great judge in the early part of the century, and had been made a peer. The Mongrober estates were not supposed to be large, nor was the Mongrober influence at this time extensive. But this nobleman was seen about a good deal in society when the dinners given were supposed to be worth eating. He was a fat, silent, red-faced, elderly gentleman, who said very little, and who when he did speak seemed always to be in an ill-humour. He would now and then make ill-natured remarks about his friends’ wines, as suggesting ’68 when a man would boast of his ’48 claret; and when costly dainties were supplied for his use, would remark that such and such a dish was very well at some other time of the year. So that ladies attentive to their tables and hosts proud of their cellars would almost shake in their shoes before Lord Mongrober. And it may also be said that Lord Mongrober never gave any chance of retaliation by return dinners. There lived not the man or woman who had dined with Lord Mongrober. But yet the Robys of London were glad to entertain him; and the Mrs Robys, when he was coming, would urge their cooks to superhuman energies by the mention of his name.

  And there was Lady Eustace! Of Lady Eustace it was impossible to say whether her beauty, her wit, her wealth, or the remarkable history of her past life, most recommended her to such hosts and hostesses as Mr and Mrs Roby. As her history may be already known to some,17 no details of it shall be repeated here. At this moment she was free from all marital persecution, and was very much run after by a certain set in society. There were others again who declared that no decent man or woman ought to meet her. On the score of lovers there was really little or nothing to be said against her, but she had implicated herself in an unfortunate second marriage, and then there was that old story about the jewels! But there was no doubt about her money and her good looks, and some considered her to be clever. These completed the list of Mrs Roby’s great dinner party.

  Mr Wharton, who had arrived early, could not but take notice that Lopez, who soon followed him into the room, had at once fallen into conversation with Emily, as though there had never been any difficulty in the matter. The father, standing on the rug and pretending to answer the remarks made to him by Dick Roby, could see that Emily said but little. The man, however, was so much at his ease that there was no necessity for her to exert herself. Mr Wharton hated him for being at his ease. Had he appeared to have been rebuffed by the circumstances of his position the prejudices of the old man would have been lessened. By degrees the guests came. Lord Mongrober stood also on the rug, dumb, with a look of intense impatience for his food, hardly ever condescending to answer the little attempts at conversation made by Mrs Dick. Lady Eustace gushed into the room, kissing Mrs Dick and afterwards kissing her great friend of the moment, Mrs Leslie, who followed. She then looked as though she meant to kiss Lord Mongrober, whom she playfully and almost familiarly addressed. But Lord Mongrober only grunted. Then came Sir Damask and Lady Monogram, and Dick at once began about his pigeons. Sir Damask, who was the most good-natured man in the world, interested himself at once and became energetic, but Lady Monogram looked round the room carefully, and seeing Lady Eustace turned up her nose, nor did she care much for meeting Lord Mongrober. If she had been taken in as to the Admiralty Robys, then would she let the junior Robys know what she thought about it Mills Happerton, with his wife, caused the frown on Lady Monogram’s brow to loosen itself a little, for, so great was the wealth and power of the house of Hunky and Sons, that Mr Mills Happerton was no doubt a feature at any dinner party. Then came the Admiralty Secretary with his wife, and the order for dinner was given.

  CHAPTER 10

  Mrs Dick’s Dinner Party – No. 2

  Dick walked downstairs with Lady Monogram. There had been some doubt whether of right he should not have taken Lady Eustace, but it was held by Mrs Dick that her ladyship had somewhat impaired her rights by the eccentricities of her career, and also that she would amiably pardon any little wrong against her of that kind, – whereas Lady Monogram was a person to be much considered. Then followed Sir Damask with Lady Eustace. They seemed to be paired so well together that there could be no doubt about them. The ministerial Roby, who was really the hero of the night, took Mrs Happerton, and our friend Mr Wharton took the Secretary’s wife. All that had been easy, – so easy that fate had good-naturedly arranged things which are sometimes difficult of management. But then there came an embarrassment. Of course it would in a usual way be right that a married man as was Mr Happerton should be assigned to the widow Mrs Leslie, and that the only two ‘young’ people, – in the usual sense of the word, – should go down to dinner together But Mrs Roby was at first afraid of Mr Wharton, and planned it otherwise. When, however, the last moment came she plucked up courage, gave Mrs Leslie to the great commercial man, and with a brave smile asked Lopez to give his arm to the lady he loved. It is sometimes so hard to manage these ‘little things’, said she to Lord Mongrober as she put her hand upon his arm. His lordship had been kept standing in that odious drawing-room for more than half-an-hour waiting for a man whom he regarded as a poor Treasury hack, and was by no means in a good humour. Dick Roby’s wine was no doubt good, but he was not prepared to purchase it at such a price as this.

  ‘Things always get confused when you have waited an hour for anyone,’ he said. ‘What can one do, you know, when the House is sitting?’ said the lady apologetically. ‘Of course you lords can get away, but then you have nothing to do.’ Lord Mongrober grunted, meaning to imply by his grunt that anyone would be very much mistaken who supposed that he had any work to do because he was a peer of Parliament.

  Lopez and Emily were seated next to each other, and immediately opposite to them was Mr Wharton. Certainly nothing fraudulent had been intended on this occasion, – or it would have been arranged that the father should sit on the same side of the table with the lover, so that he should see nothing of what was going on. But it seemed to Mr Wharton as though he had been positively swindled by his sister-in-law. There they sat opposite to him, talking to each other apparently with thoroughly mutual confidence, the very two persons whom he most especially desired to keep apart He had not a word to say to either of the ladies near him. He endeavoured to keep his eyes away from his daughter as much as possible, and to divert his ears from their conversation; – but he could not but look and he could not but listen. Not that he really heard a sentence. Emily’s voice hardly reached him, and Lopez understood the game he was playing much too well to allow his voice to travel. And he looked as though his position were the
most commonplace in the world, and as though he had nothing of more than ordinary interest to say to his neighbour. Mr Wharton, as he sat there, almost made up his mind that he would leave his practice, give up his chambers, abandon even his club, and take his daughter at once to, – to; – it did not matter where, so that the place should be very distant from Manchester Square. There could be no other remedy for this evil.

  Lopez, though he talked throughout the whole of dinner, – turning sometimes indeed to Mrs Leslie who sat at his left hand, – said very little that all the world might not have heard. But he did say one such word. ‘It has been so dreary to me, the last month!’ Emily of course had no answer to make to this. She could not tell him that her desolation had been infinitely worse than his, and that she had sometimes felt as though her very heart would break. ‘I wonder whether it must always be like this with me,’ he said, – and then he went back to the theatres, and other ordinary conversation.

  ‘I suppose you’ve got to the bottom of that champagne you used to have,’ said Lord Mongrober roaring across the table to his host, holding his glass in his hand, and with strong marks of disapprobation on his face.

  ‘The very same wine as we were drinking when your lordship last did me the honour of dining here,’ said Dick. Lord Mongrober raised his eyebrows, shook his head and put down the glass.

  ‘Shall we try another bottle?’ asked Mrs Dick with solicitude.

  ‘Oh no; – it’d be all the same, I know. I’ll just take a little dry sherry if you have it.’ The man came with the decanter. ‘No, dry sherry; – dry sherry,’ said his lordship. The man was confounded, Mrs Dick was at her wits’ ends, and everything was in confusion. Lord Mongrober was not the man to be kept waiting by a government subordinate without exacting some penalty for such ill-treatment.

  ‘’Is lordship is a little out of sorts,’ whispered Dick to Lady Monogram.

  ‘Very much out of sorts, it seems.’

  ‘And the worst of it is, there isn’t a better glass of wine in London, and ‘is lordship knows it.’

  ‘I suppose that’s what he comes for,’ said Lady Monogram, being quite as uncivil in her way as the nobleman.

  ‘’E’s like a good many others. He knows where he can get a good dinner. After all, there’s no attraction like that Of course a ’ansome woman won’t admit that, Lady Monogram.’

  ‘I will not admit it, at any rate, Mr Roby.’

  ‘But I don’t doubt Monogram is as careful as anyone else to get the best cook he can, and takes a good deal of trouble about his wine too. Mongrober is very unfair about that champagne. It came out of Madame Cliquot’s cellars before the war,18 and I gave Sprott and Burlinghammer 110s. for it.’

  ‘Indeed!’

  ‘I don’t think there are a dozen men in London can give you such a glass of wine as that. What do you say about that champagne, Monogram?’

  ‘Very tidy wine,’ said Sir Damask.

  ‘I should think it is. I gave 110s. for it before the war. ‘Is lordship’s got a fit of the gout coming, I suppose.’

  But Sir Damask was engaged with his neighbour Lady Eustace. ‘Of all things I should so like to see a pigeon match,’ said Lady Eustace. ‘I have heard about them all my life. Only I suppose it isn’t quite proper for a lady.’

  ‘Oh, dear, yes.’

  ‘The darling little pigeons! They do sometimes escape, don’t they? I hope they escape sometimes. I’ll go any day you’ll make up a party, – if Lady Monogram will join us.’ Sir Damask said that he would arrange it, making up his mind, however, at the same time, that this last stipulation, if insisted on, would make the thing impracticable.

  Roby the ministerialist, sitting at the end of the table between his sister-in-law and Mrs Happerton, was very confidential respecting the Government and parliamentary affairs in general. ‘Yes, indeed; – of course it’s a coalition, but I don’t see why we shouldn’t go on very well. As to the Duke, I’ve always had the greatest possible respect for him. The truth is, there’s nothing special to be done at the present moment, and there’s no reason why we shouldn’t agree and divide the good things between us. The Duke has got some craze of his own about decimal coinage. He’ll amuse himself with that; but it won’t come to anything, and it won’t hurt us.’

  ‘Isn’t the Duchess giving a great many parties?’ asked Mrs Happerton.

  ‘Well; – yes. That kind of thing used to be done in old Lady Brock’s time, and the Duchess is repeating it There’s no end to their money, you know. But it’s rather a bore for the persons who have to go.’ The ministerial Roby knew well how he would make his sister-in-law’s mouth water by such an allusion as this to the great privilege of entering the Prime Minister’s mansion in Carlton Terrace.

  ‘I suppose you in the Government are always asked.’

  ‘We are expected to go too, and are watched pretty close. Lady Glen, as we used to call her, has the eyes of Argus.19 And of course we who used to be on the other side are especially bound to pay her observance.’

  ‘Don’t you like the Duchess?’ asked Mrs Happerton.

  ‘Oh yes; – I like her very well. She’s mad, you know, – mad as a hatter, – and no one can ever guess what freak may come next One always feels that she’ll do something sooner or later that will startle all the world.’

  ‘There was a queer story once, – wasn’t there?’ asked Mrs Dick.

  ‘I never quite believed that,’ said Roby. ‘It was something about some lover she had before she was married. She went off to Switzerland. But the Duke, – he was Mr Palliser then, – followed her very soon and it all came right’

  ‘When ladies are going to be duchesses, things do come right; don’t they?’ said Mrs Happerton.

  On the other side of Mrs Happerton was Mr Wharton, quite unable to talk to his right-hand neighbour, the Secretary’s wife. The elder Mrs Roby had not, indeed, much to say for herself, and he during the whole dinner was in misery. He had resolved that there should be no intimacy of any kind between his daughter and Ferdinand Lopez, – nothing more than the merest acquaintance; and there they were, talking together before his very eyes, with more evident signs of understanding each other than were exhibited by any other two persons at the table. And yet he had no just ground of complaint against either of them. If people dine together at the same house, it may of course happen that they shall sit next to each other. And if people sit next to each other at dinner, it is expected that they shall talk. Nobody could accuse Emily of flirting; but then she was a girl who under no circumstances would condescend to flirt. But she had declared boldly to her father that she loved this man, and there she was in close conversation with him! Would it not be better for him to give up any further trouble, and let her marry the man? She would certainly do so sooner or later.

  When the ladies went upstairs that misery was over for a time, but Mr Wharton was still not happy. Dick came round and took his wife’s chair, so that he sat between the lord and his brother. Lopez and Happerton fell into City conversation, and Sir Damask tried to amuse himself with Mr Wharton. But the task was hopeless, – as it always is when the elements of a party have been ill-mixed. Mr Wharton had not even heard of the new Aldershot coach which Sir Damask had just started with Colonel Buskin and Sir Alfonso Blackbird. And when Sir Damask declared that he drove the coach up and down twice a week himself, Mr Wharton at any rate affected to believe that such a thing was impossible. Then when Sir Damask gave him his opinion as to the cause of the failure of a certain horse at Northampton, Mr Wharton gave him no encouragement whatever. ‘I never was at a race-course in my life,’ said the barrister. After that Sir Damask drank his wine in silence.

  ‘You remember that claret, my lord?’ said Dick, thinking that some little compensation was due to him for what had been said about the champagne.

  But Lord Mongrober’s dinner had not yet had the effect of mollifying the man sufficiently for Dick’s purposes. ‘Oh, yes, I remember the wine. You call it ’57, don’t you?’
r />   ‘And it is ’57; – ’57, Leoville.’

  ‘Very likely, – very likely. If it hadn’t been heated before the fire –’

  ‘It hasn’t been near the fire,’ said Dick.

  ‘Or put into a hot decanter –’

  ‘Nothing of the kind.’

  ‘Or treated after some other damnable fashion, it would be very good wine, I dare say.’

  ‘You are hard to please, my lord, to-day,’ said Dick, who was put beyond his bearing.

  ‘What is a man to say? If you will talk about your wine, I can only tell you what I think. Any man may get good wine, – that is if he can afford to pay the price, – but it isn’t one out of ten who knows how to put it on the table.’ Dick felt this to be very hard. When a man pays nos. a dozen for his champagne, and then gives it to guests like Lord Mongrober, who are not even expected to return the favour, then that man ought to be allowed to talk about his wine without fear of rebuke. One doesn’t have an agreement to that effect written down on parchment and sealed; but it is as well understood and ought to be as faithfully kept as any legal contract Dick, who could on occasions be awakened to a touch of manliness, gave the bottle a shove and threw himself back in his chair. ‘If you ask me, I can only tell you,’ repeated Lord Mongrober.

  ‘I don’t believe you ever had a bottle of wine put before you in better order in all your life,’ said Dick. His lordship’s face became very square and very red as he looked round at his host. ‘And as for talking about my wine, of course I talk to a man about what he understands. I talk to Monogram about pigeons, to Tom there about politics, to ’Apperton and Lopez about the price of consols, and to you about wine. If I asked you what you thought of the last new book, your lordship would be a little surprised.’ Lord Mongrober grunted and looked redder and squarer than ever; but he made no attempt at reply, and the victory was evidently left with Dick, – very much to the general exaltation of his character. And he was proud of himself ‘We had a little tiff, me and Mongrober,’ he said to his wife that night ‘’E’s a very good fellow, and of course he’s a lord and all that. But he has to be put down occasionally, and, by George, I did it to-night. You ask Lopez.’