CHAPTER XVII.
LORD HAMPSTEAD'S SCHEME.
During the following week Hampstead went down to Gorse Hall, andhunted two or three days with various packs of hounds within hisreach, declaring to himself that, after all, Leicestershire wasbetter than Cumberland, because he was known there, and no onewould dare to treat him as Crocker had done. Never before had hisdemocratic spirit received such a shock,--or rather the remnant ofthat aristocratic spirit which he had striven to quell by the wisdomand humanity of democracy! That a stranger should have dared to talkto him about one of the ladies of his family! No man certainly woulddo so in Northamptonshire or Leicestershire. He could not quiteexplain to himself the difference in the localities, but he was quitesure that he was safe from anything of that kind at Gorse Hall.
But he had other matters to think of as he galloped about thecountry. How might he best manage to see Marion Fay? His mind wasset upon that;--or, perhaps, more dangerously still, his heart. Hadhe been asked before he would have said that there could have beennothing more easy than for such a one as he to make acquaintance witha young lady in Paradise Row. But now, when he came to look at it,he found that Marion Fay was environed with fortifications and a_chevaux-de-frise_ of difficulties which were apparently impregnable.He could not call at No. 17, and simply ask for Miss Fay. To doso he must be a proficient in that impudence, the lack of whichcreated so many difficulties for him. He thought of finding outthe Quaker chapel in the City, and there sitting out the wholeproceeding,--unless desired to leave the place,--with the Quixoticidea of returning to Holloway with her in an omnibus. As he looked atthis project all round, he became sure that the joint journey in anomnibus would never be achieved. Then he imagined that Mrs. Rodenmight perhaps give him aid. But with what a face could such a one ashe ask such a one as Mrs. Roden to assist him in such an enterprise?And yet, if anything were to be done, it must be done through Mrs.Roden,--or, at any rate, through Mrs. Roden's house. As to this toothere was a new difficulty. He had not actually quarrelled withGeorge Roden, but the two had parted on the road as though there weresome hitch in the cordiality of their friendship. He had been rebukedfor having believed what Crocker had told him. He did acknowledge tohimself that he should not have believed it. Though Crocker's lieshad been monstrous, he should rather have supposed him to be guiltyeven of lies so monstrous, than have suspected his friend of conductthat would certainly have been base. Even this added something to thedifficulties by which Marion Fay was surrounded.
Vivian was staying with him at Gorse Hall. "I shall go up to Londonto-morrow," he said, as the two of them were riding home afterhunting on the Saturday,--the Saturday after the Sunday on whichHampstead had been in Paradise Row.
"To-morrow is Sunday,--no day for travelling," said Vivian. "TheFitzwilliams are at Lilford Cross Roads on Monday,--draw back towardsthe kennels;--afternoon train up from Peterborough at 5.30;--branchfrom Oundle to meet it, 4.50--have your traps sent there. It's allarranged by Providence. On Monday evening I go to Gatcombe,--so thatit will all fit."
"You need not be disturbed. A solitary Sunday will enable you towrite all your official correspondence for the fortnight."
"That I should have done, even in your presence."
"I must be at home on Monday morning. Give my love to them all atLilford Cross Roads. I shall be down again before long if my sistercan spare me;--or perhaps I may induce her to come and rough it herefor a week or two." He was as good as his word, and travelled up toLondon, and thence across to Hendon Hall, on the Sunday.
It might have been said that no young man could have had strongerinducements for clinging to his sport, or fewer reasons forabandoning it. His stables were full of horses; the weather was good;the hunting had been excellent; his friends were all around him;and he had nothing else to do. His sister intended to remain foryet another week at Castle Hautboy, and Hendon Hall of itself hadcertainly no special attractions at the end of November. But MarionFay was on his mind, and he had arranged his scheme. His scheme, asfar as he knew, would be as practicable on a Tuesday as on a Monday;but he was impatient, and for the nonce preferred Marion Fay, whom heprobably would not find, to the foxes which would certainly be foundin the neighbourhood of Lilford Cross Roads.
It was not much of a scheme after all. He would go over to ParadiseRow, and call on Mrs. Roden. He would then explain to her what hadtaken place between him and George, and leave some sort of apologyfor the offended Post Office clerk. Then he would ask them both tocome over and dine with him on some day before his sister's return.In what way Marion Fay's name might be introduced, or how she mightbe brought into the arrangement, he must leave to the chapter ofaccidents. On the Monday he left home at about two o'clock, andmaking a roundabout journey _via_ Baker Street, King's Cross, andIslington, went down to Holloway by an omnibus. He had becomesomewhat abashed and perplexed as to his visits to Paradise Row,having learned to entertain a notion that some of the people therelooked at him. It was hard, he thought, that if he had a friend inthat or any other street he should not be allowed to visit his friendwithout creating attention. He was not aware of the special existenceof Mrs. Demijohn, or of Clara, or of Mrs. Duffer, nor did he knowfrom what window exactly the eyes of curious inhabitants were fixedupon him. But he was conscious that an interest was taken in hiscomings and goings. As long as his acquaintance in the street wasconfined to the inhabitants of No. 11, this did not very muchsignify. Though the neighbours should become aware that he wasintimate with Mrs. Roden or her son, he need not care much aboutthat. But if he should succeed in adding Marion Fay to the number ofhis Holloway friends, then he thought inquisitive eyes might be anannoyance. It was on this account that he made his way down in anomnibus, and felt that there was something almost of hypocrisy in thesoft, unpretending, and almost skulking manner in which he crept upParadise Row, as though his walking there was really of no momentto any one. As he looked round after knocking at Mrs. Roden's door,he saw the figure of Clara Demijohn standing a little back from theparlour window of the house opposite.
"Mrs. Roden is at home," said the maid, "but there are friends withher." Nevertheless she showed the young lord up to the drawing-room.There were friends indeed. It was Mrs. Vincent's day for coming,and she was in the room. That alone would not have been much, butwith the two elder ladies was seated Marion Fay. So far at anyrate Fortune had favoured him. But now there was a difficulty inexplaining his purpose. He could not very well give his generalinvitation,--general at any rate as regarded Marion Fay,--before Mrs.Vincent.
Of course there was an introduction. Mrs. Vincent, who had oftenheard Lord Hampstead's name, in spite of her general severity, wasopen to the allurements of nobility. She was glad to meet the youngman, although she had strong reasons for believing that he was not atower of strength on matters of Faith. Hampstead and Marion Fay shookhands as though they were old friends, and then the conversationnaturally fell upon George Roden.
"You didn't expect my son, I hope," said the mother.
"Oh, dear no! I had a message to leave for him, which will do just aswell in a note."
This was to some extent unfortunate, because it made both Mrs.Vincent and Marion feel that they were in the way.
"I think I'll send Betsy down for the brougham," said the former.The brougham which brought Mrs. Vincent was always in the habit ofretiring round the corner to the "Duchess of Edinburgh," where thedriver had succeeded in creating for himself quite an intimacy.
"Pray do not stir, madam," said Hampstead, for he had perceivedfrom certain preparations made by Miss Fay that she would find itnecessary to follow Mrs. Vincent out of the room. "I will write twowords for Roden, and that will tell him all I have to say."
Then the elder ladies went back to the matter they were discussingbefore Lord Hampstead had appeared. "I was asking this young lady,"said Mrs. Vincent, "to come with me for two or three days down toBrighton. It is absolutely the fact that she has never seenBrighton."
As Mrs. Vincent went to Brighton twice an
nually, for a month at thebeginning of the winter and then again for a fortnight in the spring,it seemed to her a wonderful thing that any one living, even atHolloway, should never have seen the place.
"I think it would be a very good thing," said Mrs. Roden,--"if yourfather can spare you."
"I never leave my father," said Marion.
"Don't you think, my lord," said Mrs. Vincent, "that she looks asthough she wanted a change?"
Authorized by this, Lord Hampstead took the opportunity of gazing atMarion, and was convinced that the young lady wanted no change atall. There was certainly no room for improvement; but it occurred tohim on the spur of the moment that he, too, might spend two or threedays at Brighton, and that he might find his opportunities thereeasier than in Paradise Row. "Yes, indeed," he said, "a change isalways good. I never like to stay long in one place myself."
"Some people must stay in one place," said Marion with a smile."Father has to go to his business, and would be very uncomfortable ifthere were no one to give him his meals and sit at table with him."
"He could spare you for a day or two," said Mrs. Roden, who knewthat it would be well for Marion that she should sometimes be out ofLondon.
"I am sure that he would not begrudge you a short recreation likethat," said Mrs. Vincent.
"He never begrudges me anything. We did go down to Cowes for afortnight in April, though I am quite sure that papa himself wouldhave preferred remaining at home all the time. He does not believe inthe new-fangled idea of changing the air."
"Doesn't he?" said Mrs. Vincent. "I do, I know. Where I live, atWimbledon, may be said to be more country than town; but if I were toremain all the year without moving, I should become so low and out ofsorts, that I veritably believe they would have to bury me before thefirst year was over."
"Father says that when he was young it was only people of rank andfashion who went out of town regularly; and that folk lived as longthen as they do now."
"I think people get used to living and dying according tocircumstances," said Hampstead. "Our ancestors did a great manythings which we regard as quite fatal. They drank their water withoutfiltering it, and ate salt meat all the winter through. They did verylittle in the washing way, and knew nothing of ventilation. Yet theycontrived to live." Marion Fay, however, was obstinate, and declaredher purpose of declining Mrs. Vincent's kind invitation. There wasa good deal more said about it, because Hampstead managed to makevarious propositions. "He was very fond of the sea himself," he said,"and would take them all round, including Mrs. Vincent and Mrs.Roden, in his yacht, if not to Brighton, at any rate to Cowes."December was not exactly the time for yachting, and as Brighton couldbe reached in an hour by railway, he was driven to abandon thatproposition, with a little laughter at his own absurdity.
But it was all done with a gaiety and a kindness which quite won Mrs.Vincent's heart. She stayed considerably beyond her accustomed hour,to the advantage of the proprietor of the "Duchess of Edinburgh,"and at last sent Betsy down to the corner in high good humour."I declare, Lord Hampstead," she said, "I ought to charge youthree-and-sixpence before I go. I shall have to break into anotherhour, because I have stayed talking to you. Pritchard never lets meoff if I am not back punctually by four." Then she took herdeparture.
"You needn't go, Marion," said Mrs. Roden,--"unless Lord Hampsteadhas something special to say to me." Lord Hampstead declared that hehad nothing special to say, and Marion did not go.
"But I have something special to say," said Hampstead, when theelder lady was quite gone, "but Miss Fay may know it just as well asyourself. As we were walking to Hendon on Sunday a matter came up asto which George and I did not agree."
"There was no quarrel, I hope?" said the mother.
"Oh, dear, no;--but we weren't best pleased with each other.Therefore I want you both to come and dine with me one day this week.I shall be engaged on Saturday, but any day before that will do."Mrs. Roden put on a very serious look on receiving the proposition,having never before been invited to the house of her son's friend.Nor, for some years past, had she dined out with any acquaintance.And yet she could not think at the moment of any reason why sheshould not do so. "I was going to ask Miss Fay to come with you."
"Oh, quite impossible," said Marion. "It is very kind, my lord; but Inever go out, do I, Mrs. Roden?"
"That seems to me a reason why you should begin. Of course, Iunderstand about your father. But I should be delighted to make hisacquaintance, if you would bring him."
"He rarely goes out, Lord Hampstead."
"Then he will have less power to plead that he is engaged. What doyou say, Mrs. Roden? It would give me the most unaffected pleasure.Like your father, Miss Fay, I, too, am unaccustomed to much goingout, as you call it. I am as peculiar as he is. Let us acknowledgethat we are all peculiar people, and that therefore there is the morereason why we should come together. Mrs. Roden, do not try to preventan arrangement which will give me the greatest pleasure, and to whichthere cannot be any real objection. Why should not Mr. Fay makeacquaintance with your son's friend? Which day would suit you best,Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday?"
At last it was settled that at any rate George Roden shoulddine at Hendon Hall on the Friday,--he being absent during thediscussion,--and that time must be taken as to any further acceptanceof the invitation. Mrs. Roden was inclined to think that it hadbest be regarded as impossible. She thought that she had made upher mind never to dine out again. Then there came across her minda remembrance that her son was engaged to marry this young man'ssister, and that it might be for his welfare that she should give wayto these overtures of friendship. When her thoughts had travelled sofar as this, she might have felt sure that the invitation would atlast be accepted.
As to Marion Fay, the subject was allowed to drop without any furtherdecision. She had said that it was impossible, and she said nothingmore. That was the last dictum heard from her; but it was notrepeated as would probably have been the case had she been quitesure that it was impossible. Mrs. Roden during the interview did notallude to that branch of the subject again. She was fluttered withwhat had already been said, a little angry with herself that she hadso far yielded, a little perplexed at her own too evident confusion,a little frightened at Lord Hampstead's evident admiration of thegirl. As to Marion, it must, of course, be left to her father,--aswould the question as to the Quaker himself.
"I had better be going," said Marion Fay, who was also confused.
"So must I," said Hampstead. "I have to return round by London, andhave ever so many things to do in Park Lane. The worst of havingtwo or three houses is that one never knows where one's clothes are.Good-bye, Mrs. Roden. Mind, I depend upon you, and that I have setmy heart upon it. You will let me walk with you as far as your door,Miss Fay?"
"It is only three doors off," said Marion, "and in the otherdirection." Nevertheless he did go with her to the house, though itwas only three doors off. "Tell your father, with my compliments," hesaid, "that George Roden can show you the way over. If you can get acab to bring you across I will send you back in the waggonette. Forthe matter of that, there is no reason on earth why it should not besent for you."
"Oh, no, my lord. That is, I do not think it possible that we shouldcome."
"Pray do, pray do, pray do," he said, as he took her hand when thedoor at No. 17 was opened. As he walked down the street he saw thefigure still standing at the parlour window of No. 10.
On the same evening Clara Demijohn was closeted with Mrs. Duffer ather lodgings at No. 15. "Standing in the street, squeezing her hand!"said Mrs. Duffer, as though the very hairs of her head were made tostand on end by the tidings,--the moral hairs, that is, of her moralhead. Her head, in the flesh, was ornamented by a front which musthave prevented the actual standing on end of any hair that was leftto her.
"I saw it! They came out together from No. 11 as loving as could be,and he walked up with her to their own house. Then he seized her handand held it,--oh, for minutes!--in the street. There is nothing t
hoseQuaker girls won't allow themselves. They are so free with theirChristian names, that, of course, they get into intimacies instantly.I never allow a young man to call me Clara without leave asked andgiven."
"I should think not."
"One can't be too particular about one's Christian name. They've beenin there together, at No. 11, for two hours. What can that mean? OldMrs. Vincent was there, but she went away."
"I suppose she didn't like such doings."
"What can a lord be doing in such a place as that," asked Clara,"--coming so often, you know? And one that has to be a Markiss, whichis much more than a lord. One thing is quite certain. It can't meanthat he is going to marry Marion Fay?" With this assurance ClaraDemijohn comforted herself as best she might.