The Belton Estate

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XV.

  EVIL WORDS.

  Clara Amedroz had received her two letters together,--that, namely,from the attorney, and that from Captain Aylmer,--and the result ofthose letters is already known. She accepted her lover's renewedoffer of marriage, acknowledging the force of his logic, and puttingfaith in the strength of his assurances. This she did without seekingadvice from any one. Who was there from whom she could seek advice onsuch a matter as that?--who, at least, was there at Belton? That herfather would, as a matter of course, bid her accept Captain Aylmer,was, she thought, certain; and she knew well that Mrs. Askerton woulddo the same. She asked no counsel from any one, but taking the twoletters up to her own room, sat down to consider them. That whichreferred to her aunt's money, together with the postscript in CaptainAylmer's letter on the same subject, would be of the least possiblemoment if she could bring herself to give a favourable answer to theother proposition. But should she not be able to do this,--should shehesitate as to doing so at once,--then she must write to the lawyerin very strong terms, refusing altogether to have anything to do withthe money. And in such a case as this, not a word could she say toher father either on one subject or on the other.

  But why should she not accept the offer made to her? Captain Aylmerdeclared that he had determined to ask her to be his wife before hehad made any promise to Mrs. Winterfield. If this were in truth so,then the very ground on which she had separated herself from himwould be removed. Why should she hesitate in acknowledging to herselfthat she loved the man and believed him to be true? So she satherself down and answered both the letters,--writing to the lawyerfirst. To him she said that nothing need be done about the money orthe interest till he should see or hear from Captain Aylmer again.Then to Captain Aylmer she wrote very shortly, but very openly,--withthe same ill-judged candour which her spoken words to him haddisplayed. Of course she would be his; his without hesitation, nowthat she knew that he expressed his own wishes, and not merelythose of his aunt. "As to the money," she said, "it would be simplynonsense now for us to have any talk of money. It is yours in anyway, and you had better manage about it as you please. I have writtenan ambiguous letter to Mr. Green, which will simply plague him, andwhich you may go and see if you like." Then she added her postscript,in which she said that she should now at once tell her father, asthe news would remove from his mind all solicitude as to her futureposition. That Captain Aylmer did go to Mr. Green we already know,and we know also that he told Mr. Green of his intended marriage.

  Nothing was said by Captain Aylmer as to any proposed period fortheir marriage; but that was only natural. It was not probable thatany man would name a day till he knew whether or not he was accepted.Indeed, Clara, on thinking over the whole affair, was now disposed tofind fault rather with herself than with her lover, and forgettinghis coldness and formality at Perivale, remembered only the fact ofhis offer to her, and his assurance now received that he had intendedto make it before the scene which had taken place between him andhis aunt. She did find fault with herself, telling herself thatshe had quarrelled with him without sufficient cause;--and theeager, loving candour of her letter to him was attributable to thoseself-accusations.

  "Papa," she said, after the postman had gone away from Belton, sothat there might be no possibility of any recall of her letter, "Ihave something to tell you which I hope will give you pleasure."

  "It isn't often that I hear anything of that kind," said he.

  "But I think that this will give you pleasure. I do indeed. I amgoing to be married."

  "Going to what?"

  "Going to be married, papa. That is, if I have your leave. Of courseany offer of that kind that I have accepted is subject to yourapproval."

  "And I have been told nothing about it!"

  "It began at Perivale, and I could not tell you then. You do not askme who is to be my husband."

  "It is not Will Belton?"

  "Poor Will! No; it is not Will. It is Frederic Aylmer. I think youwould prefer him as a son-in-law even to my cousin Will."

  "No I shouldn't. Why should I prefer a man whom I don't even know,who lives in London, and who will take you away, so that I shallnever see you again?"

  "Dear papa;--don't speak of it in that way. I thought you would beglad to know that I was to be so--so--so happy!"

  "But why is it to be done this way,--of a sudden? Why didn't he cometo me? Will came to me the very first thing."

  "He couldn't come all the way to Belton very well;--particularly ashe does not know you."

  "Will came here."

  "Oh, papa, don't make difficulties. Of course that was different. Hewas here when he first thought of it. And even then he didn't thinkvery much about it."

  "He did all that he could, I suppose?"

  "Well;--yes. I don't know how that might be." And Clara almostlaughed as she felt the difficulties into which she was creeping."Dear Will. He is much better as a cousin than as a husband."

  "I don't see that at all. Captain Aylmer will not have the Beltonestate or Plaistow Hall."

  "Surely he is well enough off to take care of a wife. He will havethe whole of the Perivale estate, you know."

  "I don't know anything about it. According to my ideas of what isproper he should have spoken to me first. If he could not come hemight have written. No doubt my ideas may be old-fashioned, and I'mtold that Captain Aylmer is a fashionable young man."

  "Indeed he is not, papa. He is a hard-working member of Parliament."

  "I don't know that he is any better for that. People seem to thinkthat if a man is a member of Parliament he may do what he pleases.There is Thompson, the member for Minehead, who has bought some sortof place out by the moors. I never saw so vulgar, pig-headed a fellowin my life. Being in Parliament used to be something when I wasyoung, but it won't make a man a gentleman now-a-days. It seems tome that none but brewers, and tallow-chandlers, and lawyers go intoParliament now. Will Belton could go into Parliament if he pleased,but he knows better than that. He won't make himself such a fool."

  This was not comfortable to Clara; but she knew her father, andallowed him to go on with his grumbling. He would come round bydegrees, and he would appreciate, if he could not be induced toacknowledge, the wisdom of the step she was about to take.

  "When is it to be?" he asked.

  "Nothing of that kind has ever been mentioned, papa."

  "It had better be soon, if I am to have anything to do with it." Nowit was certainly the case that the old man was very ill. He had notbeen out of the house since Clara had returned home; and, though hewas always grumbling about his food, he could hardly be induced toeat anything when the morsels for which he expressed a wish were gotfor him.

  "Of course you will be consulted, papa, before anything is settled."

  "I don't want to be in anybody's way, my dear."

  "And may I tell Frederic that you have given your consent?"

  "What's the use of my consenting or not consenting? If you had beenanxious to oblige me you would have taken your cousin Will."

  "Oh, papa, how could I accept a man I didn't love?"

  "You seemed to me to be very fond of him at first; and I must say, Ithought he was ill-treated."

  "Papa, papa; do not say such things as that to me!"

  "What am I to do? You tell me, and I can't altogether hold mytongue." Then there was a pause. "Well, my dear, as for my consent,of course you may have it,--if it's worth anything. I don't know thatI ever heard anything bad about Captain Aylmer."

  He had heard nothing bad about Captain Aylmer! Clara, as she left herfather, felt that this was very grievous. Whatever cause she mighthave had for discontent with her lover, she could not but be awarethat he was a man whom any father might be proud to welcome as asuitor for his daughter. He was a man as to whom no ill tales hadever been told;--who had never been known to do anything wrong orimprudent; who had always been more than respectable, and as to whoseworldly position no exception could be taken. She had been entitledto expec
t her father's warmest congratulations, and her tidings hadbeen received as though she had proposed to give her hand to onewhose character and position only just made it not imperative on thefather to withhold his consent! All this was hard, and feeling itto be so, she went up-stairs, all alone, and cried bitterly as shethought of it.

  On the next day she went down to the cottage and saw Mrs. Askerton.She went there with the express purpose of telling her friend of herengagement,--desirous of obtaining in that quarter the sympathy whichher father declined to give her. Had her communication to him beenaccepted in a different spirit, she might probably have kept hersecret from Mrs. Askerton till something further had been fixed abouther marriage; but she was in want of a few kind words, and pinedfor some of that encouragement which ladies in love usually wish toreceive, at any rate from some one chosen friend. But when she foundherself alone with Mrs. Askerton she hardly knew how to tell hernews; and at first could not tell it at all, as that lady was eagerin speaking on another subject.

  "When do you expect your cousin?" Mrs. Askerton asked, almost as soonas Clara was seated.

  "The day after to-morrow."

  "And he is in London now?"

  "He may be. I dare say he is. But I don't know anything about it."

  "I can tell you then that he is. Colonel Askerton has heard of hisbeing there."

  "You seem to speak of it as though there were some offence in it. Isthere any reason why he should not be in London if he pleases?"

  "None in the least. I would much rather that he should be there thanhere."

  "Why so? Will his coming hurt you?"

  "I don't like him. I don't like him at all;--and now you know thetruth. You believe in him;--I don't. You think him to be a finefellow and a gentleman, whereas I don't think him to be either."

  "Mrs. Askerton!"

  "This is strong language, I know."

  "Very strong language."

  "Yes, my dear; but the truth is, Clara, that you and I, livingtogether here this sort of hermit's life, each seeing so much ofthe other and seeing nothing of anybody else, must either be realfriends, telling each other what we think, or we must be nothing. Wecan't go on with the ordinary make-believes of society, saying littlecivil speeches and not going beyond them. Therefore I have made up mymind to tell you in plain language that I don't like your cousin, anddon't believe in him."

  "I don't know what you mean by believing in a man."

  "I believe in you. Sometimes I have thought that you believe in me,and sometimes I have feared that you do not. I think that you aregood, and honest, and true; and therefore I like to see your face andhear your voice,--though it is not often that you say very pleasantthings to me."

  "Do I say unpleasant things?"

  "I am not going to quarrel with you,--not if I can help it. Whatbusiness has Mr. Belton to go about London making inquiries as to me?What have I done to him, that he should honour me so far?"

  "Has he made inquiries?"

  "Yes; he has. If you have been contented with me as I am,--if you aresatisfied, why should he want to learn more? If you have any questionto ask me I will answer it. But what right can he have to be askingquestions among strangers?"

  Clara had no question to ask, and yet she could not say that she wassatisfied. She would have been better satisfied to have known more ofMrs. Askerton, but yet she had never condescended to make inquiriesabout her friend. But her curiosity was now greatly raised; and,indeed, Mrs. Askerton's manner was so strange, her vehemence sounusual, and her eagerness to rush into dangerous subjects so unlikeher usual tranquillity in conversation, that Clara did not know howto answer her.

  "I know nothing of any questioning," she said.

  "I am sure you don't. Had I thought you did, much as I loveyou,--valuable as your society is to me down in this desert,--I wouldnever speak to you again. But remember,--if you want to ask anyquestions, and will ask them of me,--of me,--I will answer them, andwill not be angry."

  "But I don't want to ask any questions."

  "You may some day; and then you can remember what I say."

  "And am I to understand that you are determined to quarrel with mycousin Will?"

  "Quarrel with him! I don't suppose that I shall see him. After whatI have said it is not probable that you will bring him here, and theservant will have orders to say that I am not at home if he shouldcall. Luckily he and Colonel Askerton did not meet when he was herebefore."

  "This is the most strange thing I ever heard in my life."

  "You will understand it better, my dear, when he makes hiscommunication to you."

  "What communication?"

  "You'll find that he'll have a communication to make. He has beenso diligent and so sharp that he'll have a great deal to tell, I donot doubt. Only, remember, Clara, that if anything that he tells youmakes any difference in your feelings towards me, I shall expectyou to come to me and say so openly. If he makes his statement, letme make mine. I have a right to ask for that, after what I havepromised."

  "You may be sure that I will."

  "I want nothing more. I have no distrust in you,--none in the least.I tell you that I believe in you. If you will do that, and will keepMr. William Belton out of my way during his visit to these parts,I shall be satisfied." For some time past Mrs. Askerton had beenwalking about the room, but, as she now finished speaking, shesat herself down as though the subject was fully discussed andcompleted. For a minute or two she made an effort to resume her usualtranquillity of manner, and in doing so attempted to smile, as thoughridiculing her own energy. "I knew I should make a fool of myselfwhen you came," she said; "and now I have done it."

  "I don't think you have been a fool at all, but you may have beenmistaken."

  "Very well, my dear, we shall see. It's very odd what a dislike Itook to that man the first time I saw him."

  "And I am so fond of him!"

  "Yes; he has cozened you as he has your father. I am only glad thathe did not succeed in cozening you further than he did. But I oughtto have known you better than to suppose you could give your heart ofhearts to one who is--"

  "Do not abuse him any more."

  "Who is so very unlike the sort of people with whom you have lived. Imay, at any rate, say that."

  "I don't know that. I haven't lived much with any one yet,--exceptpapa, and my aunt, and you."

  "But you know a gentleman when you see him."

  "Come, Mrs. Askerton, I will not stand this. I thought you had donewith the subject, and now you begin again. I had come here on purposeto tell you something of real importance,--that is, to me; but I mustgo away without telling you, unless you will give over abusing mycousin."

  "I will not say a word more about him,--not at present."

  "I feel so sure that you are mistaken, you know."

  "Very well;--and I feel sure that you are mistaken. We will leave itso, and go to this matter of importance." But Clara felt it to bevery difficult to tell her tidings after such a conversation as thatwhich had just occurred. When she had entered the room her mind hadbeen tuned to the subject, and she could have found fitting wordswithout much difficulty to herself; but now her thoughts had beenscattered and her feelings hurt, and she did not know how to bringherself back to the subject of her engagement. She paused, therefore,and sat with a doubtful, hesitating look, meditating some mode ofescape. "I am all ears," said Mrs. Askerton; and Clara thought thatshe discovered something of ridicule or of sarcasm in the tone of herfriend's voice.

  "I believe I'll put it off till another day," she said.

  "Why so? You don't think that anything really important to you willnot be important to me also?"

  "I'm sure of that, but somehow--"

  "You mean to say that I have ruffled you?"

  "Well;--perhaps; a little."

  "Then be unruffled again, like my own dear, honest Clara. I have beenruffled too, but I'll be as tranquil now as a drawing-room cat." ThenMrs. Askerton got up from her chair, and seated herself by Clara'sside on the so
fa. "Come; you can't go till you've told me; and if youhesitate, I shall think that you mean to quarrel with me."

  "I'll come to you to-morrow."

  "No, no; you shall tell me to-day. All to-morrow you'll be preparingfor your cousin."

  "What nonsense!"

  "Or else you'll come prepared to vindicate him, and then we shan'tget on any further. Tell me what it is to-day. You can't leave me incuriosity after what you have said."

  "You've heard of Captain Aylmer, I think."

  "Of course I've heard of him."

  "But you've never seen him?"

  "You know I never have."

  "I told you that he was at Perivale when Mrs. Winterfield died."

  "And now he has proposed, and you are going to accept him? That willindeed be important. Is it so?--say. But don't I know it is so? Whydon't you speak?"

  "If you know it, why need I speak?"

  "But it is so? Oh, Clara, I am so glad. I congratulate you with allmy heart,--with all my heart. My dearest, dearest Clara! What a happyarrangement! What a success! It is just as it should be. Dear, goodman! to come forward in that sensible way, and put an end to all thelittle family difficulties!"

  "I don't know so much about success. Who is it that is successful?"

  "You, to be sure."

  "Then by the same measurement he must be unsuccessful."

  "Don't be a fool, Clara."

  "Of course I have been successful if I've got a man that I can loveas my husband."

  "Now, my dear, don't be a fool. Of course all that is between you andhim, and I don't in the least doubt that it is all as it should be.If Captain Aylmer had been the elder brother instead of the younger,and had all the Aylmer estates instead of the Perivale property, Iknow you would not accept him if you did not like him."

  "I hope not."

  "I am sure you would not. But when a girl with nothing a year hasmanaged to love a man with two or three thousand a year, and hasmanaged to be loved by him in return,--instead of going through thesame process with the curate or village doctor,--it is a success,and her friends will always think so. And when a girl marries agentleman, and a member of Parliament, instead of--; well, I'm notgoing to say anything personal,--her friends will congratulate herupon his position. It may be very wicked, and mercenary, and allthat; but it's the way of the world."

  "I hate hearing about the world."

  "Yes, my dear; all proper young ladies like you do hate it. But Iobserve that such girls as you never offend its prejudices. You can'tbut know that you would have done a wicked as well as a foolish thingto marry a man without an adequate income."

  "But I needn't marry at all."

  "And what would you live on then? Come Clara, we needn't quarrelabout that. I've no doubt he's charming, and beautiful, and--"

  "He isn't beautiful at all; and as for charming--"

  "He has charmed you at any rate."

  "He has made me believe that I can trust him without doubt, and lovehim without fear."

  "An excellent man! And the income will be an additional comfort;you'll allow that?"

  "I'll allow nothing."

  "And when is it to be?"

  "Oh,--perhaps in six or seven years."

  "Clara!"

  "Perhaps sooner; but there's been no word said about time."

  "Is not Mr. Amedroz delighted?"

  "Not a bit. He quite scolded me when I told him."

  "Why;--what did he want?"

  "You know papa."

  "I know he scolds at everything, but I shouldn't have thought hewould have scolded at that. And when does he come here?"

  "Who come here?"

  "Captain Aylmer."

  "I don't know that he is coming at all."

  "He must come to be married."

  "All that is in the clouds as yet. I did not like to tell you,but you mustn't suppose that because I've told you, everything issettled. Nothing is settled."

  "Nothing except the one thing?"

  "Nothing else."

  It was more than an hour after that before Clara went away, and whenshe did so she was surprised to find that she was followed out of thehouse by Colonel Askerton. It was quite dusk at this time, the daysbeing just at their shortest, and Colonel Askerton, according to hiscustom, would have been riding, or returning from his ride. Clarahad been over two hours at the cottage, and had been aware when shereached it that he had not as yet gone out. It appeared now thathe had not ridden at all, and, as she remembered to have seen hishorse led before the window, it at once occurred to her that he hadremained at home with the view of catching her as she went away. Hecame up to her just as she was passing through the gate, and offeredher his right hand as he raised his hat with his left. It sometimeshappens to all of us in life that we become acquainted with personsintimately,--that is, with an assumed intimacy,--whom in truth wedo not know at all. We meet such persons frequently, often eatingand drinking in their company, being familiar with their appearance,and well-informed generally as to their concerns; but we never findourselves holding special conversations with them, or in any wayfitting the modes of our life to the modes of their life. Accidenthas brought us together, and in one sense they are our friends. Weshould probably do any little kindness for them, or expect the samefrom them; but there is nothing in common between us, and there isgenerally a mutual though unexpressed agreement that there shallbe nothing in common. Miss Amedroz was intimately acquainted withColonel Askerton after this fashion. She saw him very frequently, andhis name was often on her tongue; but she rarely, if ever, conversedwith him, and knew of his habits only from his wife's wordsrespecting them. When, therefore, he followed her through the gardengate into the park, she was driven to suppose that he had somethingspecial to say to her.

  "I'm afraid you'll have a dark walk, Miss Amedroz," he said.

  "It's only just across the park, and I know the way so well."

  "Yes,--of course. I saw you coming out, and as I want to say a wordor two, I have ventured to follow you. When Mr. Belton was down hereI did not have the pleasure of meeting him."

  "I remember that you missed each other."

  "Yes, we did. I understand from my wife that he will be here again ina day or two."

  "He will be with us the day after to-morrow."

  "I hope you will excuse my saying that it will be very desirable thatwe should miss each other again." Clara felt that her face becamered with anger as she listened to Colonel Askerton's words. He spokeslowly, as was his custom, and without any of that violence ofexpression which his wife had used; but on that very account therewas more, if possible, of meaning in his words than in hers. WilliamBelton was her cousin, and such a speech as that which ColonelAskerton had made, spoken with deliberation and unaccompanied by anyprevious explanation, seemed to her almost to amount to insult. Butas she did not know how to answer him at the spur of the moment, sheremained silent. Then he continued, "You may be sure, Miss Amedroz,that I should not make so strange a request to you if I had not goodreason for making it."

  "I think it a very strange request."

  "And nothing but a strong conviction of its propriety on my partwould have induced me to make it."

  "If you do not want to see my cousin, why cannot you avoid himwithout saying anything to me on the subject?"

  "Because you would not then have understood as thoroughly as I wishyou to do why I kept out of his way. For my wife's sake,--and foryours, if you will allow me to say so,--I do not wish to come to anyopen quarrel with him; but if we met, a quarrel would, I think, beinevitable. Mary has probably explained to you the nature of hisoffence against us?"

  "Mrs. Askerton has told me something as to which I am quite sure thatshe is mistaken."

  "I will say nothing about that, as I have no wish at all to set youagainst your cousin. I will bid you good-night now as you are closeat home." Then he turned round and left her.

  Clara, as she thought of all this, could not but call to mind hercousin's remembrances about Miss Vigo
and Mr. Berdmore. What if hemade some inquiry as to the correctness of his old recollections?Nothing, she thought, could be more natural. And then she reflectedthat, in the ordinary way of the world, persons feel none of thatviolent objection to the asking of questions about their antecedentswhich was now evinced by both Colonel and Mrs. Askerton. But ofone thing she felt quite assured,--that her cousin, Will Belton,would make no inquiry which he ought not to make; and would make noimproper use of any information which he might obtain.