Endymion - Benjamin Disraeli
Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39
Four-and-twenty hours afterwards they inquired of Lord Montfort whether
they should send for his wife. "On no account whatever," he replied. "My
orders on this head are absolute." Nevertheless, they did send for
Lady Montfort, and as there was even then a telegraph to the north,
Berengaria, who departed from her castle instantly, and travelled all
night, arrived in eight-and-forty hours at Princedown. The state of Lord
Montfort then was critical.
It was broken to Lord Montfort that his wife had arrived.
"I perceive then," he replied, "that I am going to die, because I am
disobeyed."
These were the last words he uttered. He turned in his bed as it were to
conceal his countenance, and expired without a sigh or sound.
There was not a single person at Princedown in whom Lady Montfort could
confide. She had summoned the family solicitor, but he could not arrive
until the next day, and until he came she insisted that none of her
late lord's papers should be touched. She at first thought he had made a
will, because otherwise all his property would go to his cousin, whom
he particularly hated, and yet on reflection she could hardly fancy
his making a will. It was a trouble to him--a disagreeable trouble; and
there was nobody she knew whom he would care to benefit. He was not a
man who would leave anything to hospitals and charities. Therefore, on
the whole, she arrived at the conclusion he had not made a will, though
all the guests at Princedown were of a different opinion, and each was
calculating the amount of his own legacy.
At last the lawyer arrived, and he brought the will with him. It was
very short, and not very recent. Everything he had in the world except
the settled estates, Montfort Castle and Montfort House, he bequeathed
to his wife. It was a vast inheritance; not only Princedown, but great
accumulations of personal property, for Lord Montfort was fond of
amassing, and admired the sweet simplicity of the three per cents.
CHAPTER XCVII
When Endymion arrived in London he found among his letters two brief
notes from Lady Montfort; one hurriedly written at Montfort Castle at
the moment of her departure, and another from Princedown, with these
words only, "All is over." More than a week had elapsed since the last
was written, and he had already learnt from the newspapers that the
funeral had taken place. It was a painful but still necessary duty to
fulfil, to write to her, which he did, but he received no answer to his
letter of sympathy, and to a certain degree, of condolence. Time flew
on, but he could not venture to write again, and without any absolute
cause for his discomfort, he felt harassed and unhappy. He had been so
accustomed all his life to exist under the genial influence of women
that his present days seemed lone and dark. His sister and Berengaria,
two of the most gifted and charming beings in the world, had seemed
to agree that their first duty had ever been to sympathise with his
fortunes and to aid them. Even his correspondence with Myra was changed.
There was a tone of constraint in their communications; perhaps it
was the great alteration in her position that occasioned it? His heart
assured him that such was not the case. He felt deeply and acutely what
was the cause. The subject most interesting to both of them could not be
touched on. And then he thought of Adriana, and contrasted his dull and
solitary home in Hill Street with what it might have been, graced by her
presence, animated by her devotion, and softened by the sweetness of her
temper.
Endymion began to feel that the run of his good fortune was dried. His
sister, when he had a trouble, would never hear of this; she always held
that the misery and calamities of their early years had exhausted the
influence of their evil stars, and apparently she had been right, and
perhaps she would have always been right had he not been perverse, and
thwarted her in the most important circumstances of his life.
In this state of mind, there was nothing for him to do but to plunge
into business; and affairs of state are a cure for many cares and
sorrows. What are our petty annoyances and griefs when we have to guard
the fortunes and the honour of a nation?
The November cabinets had commenced, and this brought all the chiefs
to town, Sidney Wilton among them; and his society was always a great
pleasure to Endymion; the only social pleasure now left to him was a
little dinner at Mr. Wilton's, and little dinners there abounded. Mr.
Wilton knew all the persons that he was always thinking about, but whom,
it might be noticed, they seemed to agree now rarely to mention. As for
the rest, there was nobody to call upon in the delightful hours between
official duties and dinner. No Lady Roehampton now, no brilliant
Berengaria, and not even the gentle Imogene with her welcome smile.
He looked in at the Coventry Club, a club of fashion, and also much
frequented by diplomatists. There were a good many persons there, and a
foreign minister immediately buttonholed the Under-Secretary of State.
"I called at the Foreign Office to-day," said the foreign minister. "I
assure you it is very pressing."
"I had the American with me," said Endymion, "and he is very lengthy.
However, as to your business, I think we might talk it over here, and
perhaps settle it." And so they left the room together.
"I wonder what is going to happen to that gentleman," said Mr. Ormsby,
glancing at Endymion, and speaking to Mr. Cassilis.
"Why?" replied Mr. Cassilis, "is anything up?"
"Will he marry Lady Montfort?"
"Poh!" said Mr. Cassilis.
"You may poh!" said Mr. Ormsby, "but he was a great favourite."
"Lady Montfort will never marry. She had always a poodle, and always
will have. She was never so _liee_ with Ferrars as with the Count of
Ferroll, and half a dozen others. She must have a slave."
"A very good mistress with thirty thousand a year."
"She has not that," said Mr. Cassilis doubtingly.
"What do you put Princedown at?" said Mr. Ormsby.
"That I can tell you to a T," replied Mr. Cassilis, "for it was offered
to me when old Rambrooke died. You will never get twelve thousand a year
out of it."
"Well, I will answer for half a million consols," said Ormsby, "for my
lawyer, when he made a little investment for me the other day, saw the
entry himself in the bank-books; our names are very near, you know--M,
and O. Then there is her jointure, something like ten thousand a year."
"No, no; not seven."
"Well, that would do."
"And what is the amount of your little investment in consols altogether,
Ormsby?"
"Well, I believe I top Montfort," said Mr. Ormsby with a complacent
smile, "but then you know, I am not a swell like you; I have no land."
"Lady Montfort, thirty thousand a year," said Mr. Cassilis musingly.
"She is only thirty. She is a woman who will set the Thames on fire,
but she will never marry. Do you dine to-day, by any chance, with Sidney
Wilton?"
When Endymion returned home this evening, he found a letter from Lady
Montfort. It was a month since he had written to her. He was so nervous
that he absolutely for a moment could not break the seal, and the
palpitation of his heart was almost overpowering.
Lady Montfort thanked him for his kind letter, which she ought to
have acknowledged before, but she had been very busy--indeed, quite
overwhelmed with affairs. She wished to see him, but was sorry she could
not ask him to come down to Princedown, as she was living in complete
retirement, only her aunt with her, Lady Gertrude, whom, she believed,
he knew. He was aware, probably, how good Lord Montfort had been to her.
Sincerely she could say, nothing could have been more unexpected. If she
could have seen her husband before the fatal moment, it would have been
a consolation to her. He had always been kind to Endymion; she really
believed sometimes that Lord Montfort was even a little attached to
him. She should like Endymion to have some souvenir of her late husband.
Would he choose something, or would he leave it to her?
One would rather agree, from the tone of this letter, that Mr. Cassilis
knew what he was talking about. It fell rather odd on Endymion's heart,
and he passed a night of some disquietude; not one of those nights,
exactly, when we feel that the end of the world has at length arrived,
and that we are the first victim, but a night when you slumber rather
than sleep, and wake with the consciousness of some indefinable chagrin.
This was a dull Christmas for Endymion Ferrars. He passed it, as he had
passed others, at Gaydene, but what a contrast to the old assemblies
there! Every source of excitement that could make existence absolutely
fascinating seemed then to unite in his happy fate. Entrancing love and
the very romance of domestic affection, and friendships of honour
and happiness, and all the charms of an accomplished society, and
the feeling of a noble future, and the present and urgent interest in
national affairs--all gone, except some ambition which might tend to
consequences not more successful than those that had ultimately visited
his house with irreparable calamity.
The meeting of parliament was a great relief to Endymion. Besides his
office, he had now the House of Commons to occupy him. He was never
absent from his place; no little runnings up to Montfort House or Hill
Street just to tell them the authentic news, or snatch a hasty repast
with furtive delight, with persons still more delightful, and flattering
one's self all the time that, so far as absence was concerned, the
fleetness of one's gifted brougham horse really made it no difference
between Mayfair and Bellamy's.
Endymion had replied, but not very quickly, to Lady Montfort's letter,
and he had heard from her again, but her letter requiring no reply, the
correspondence had dropped. It was the beginning of March when she wrote
to him to say, that she was obliged to come to town to see her lawyer
and transact some business; that she would be "at papa's in Grosvenor
Square," though the house was shut up, on a certain day, that she much
wished to see Endymion, and begged him to call on her.
It was a trying moment when about noon he lifted the knocker to
Grosvenor Square. The door was not opened rapidly, and the delay made
him more nervous. He almost wished the door would never open. He
was shown into a small back room on the ground floor in which was a
bookcase, and which chamber, in the language of Grosvenor Square, is
called a library.
"Her ladyship will see you presently," said the servant, who had come up
from Princedown.
Endymion was standing before the fire, and as nervous as a man could
well be. He sighed, and he sighed more than once. His breathing was
oppressed; he felt that life was too short to permit us to experience
such scenes and situations. He heard the lock of the door move, and it
required all his manliness to endure it.
She entered; she was in weeds, but they became her admirably; her
countenance was grave and apparently with an effort to command it. She
did not move hurriedly, but held out both her hands to Endymion and
retained his, and all without speaking. Her lips then seemed to move,
when, rather suddenly, withdrawing her right hand, and placing it on his
shoulder and burying her face in her arm, she wept.
He led her soothingly to a seat, and took a chair by her side. Not a
word had yet been spoken by either of them; only a murmur of sympathy on
the part of Endymion. Lady Montfort spoke first.
"I am weaker than I thought, but it is a great trial." And then she said
how sorry she was, that she could not receive him at Princedown; but
she thought it best that he should not go there. "I have a great deal of
business to transact--you would not believe how much. I do not dislike
it, it occupies me, it employs my mind. I have led so active a life,
that solitude is rather too much for me. Among other business, I must
buy a town house, and that is the most difficult of all affairs. There
never was so great a city with such small houses. I shall feel the loss
of Montfort House, though I never used it half so much as I wished. I
want a mansion; I should think you could help me in this. When I return
to society, I mean to receive. There must be therefore good reception
rooms; if possible, more than good. And now let us talk about our
friends. Tell me all about your royal sister, and this new marriage;
it rather surprised me, but I think it excellent. Ah! you can keep
a secret, but you see it is no use having a secret with me. Even in
solitude everything reaches me."
"I assure you most seriously, that I can annex no meaning to what you
are saying."
"Then I can hardly think it true; and yet it came from high authority,
and it was not told me as a real secret."
"A marriage, and whose?"
"Miss Neuchatel's,--Adriana."
"And to whom?" inquired Endymion, changing colour.
"To Lord Waldershare."
"To Lord Waldershare!"
"And has not your sister mentioned it to you?"
"Not a word; it cannot be true."
"I will give to you my authority," said Lady Montfort. "Though I came
here in the twilight of a hired brougham, and with a veil, I was caught
before I could enter the house by, of all people in the world, Mrs.
Rodney. And she told me this in what she called 'real confidence,' and
it was announced to her in a letter from her sister, Lady Beaumaris.
They seem all delighted with the match."
CHAPTER XCVIII
The marriage of Adriana was not an event calculated to calm the
uneasy and dissatisfied temperament of Endymion. The past rendered it
impossible that this announcement should not in some degree affect him.
Then the silence of his sister on such a subject was too significant;
the silence even of Waldershare. Somehow or other, it seemed that all
these once dear and devoted friends stood in different relations to him
and to each other from what they once filled. They had become more
near and intimate together, but he seemed without the pale; he, that
Endymion, who once seemed the prime object, if not the centre, of all
their thoughts and sentiment. And why was this? What was the influence
that had swayed him to a line contrary to what was once their hopes and
affections? Had he an evil genius? And was it she? Horrible thought!
The interview with Lady Montfort had been deeply interesting--had for a
moment restored him to himself. Had it not been for this news, he might
have returned home, soothed, gratified, even again indulging in dreams.
But this news had made him ponder; had made him feel what he had lost,
and forced him to ask himself what he had gained.
There was one thing he had gained, and that was the privilege of calling
on Lady Montfort the next day. That was a fact that sometimes dissipated
all the shadows. Under the immediate influence of her presence, he
became spell-bound as of yore, and in the intoxication of her beauty,
the brightness of her mind, and her ineffable attraction, he felt
he would be content with any lot, provided he might retain her kind
thoughts and pass much of his life in her society.
She was only staying three or four days in town, and was much engaged
in the mornings; but Endymion called on her every afternoon, and sate
talking with her till dinner-time, and they both dined very late. As
he really on personal and domestic affairs never could have any reserve
with her, he told her, in that complete confidence in which they always
indulged, of the extraordinary revelation which his sister had made
to him about the parliamentary qualification. Lady Montfort was deeply
interested in this; she was even agitated, and looked very grave.
"I am sorry," she said, "we know this. Things cannot remain now as they
are. You cannot return the money, that would be churlish; besides, you
cannot return all the advantages which it gained for you, and they must
certainly be considered part of the gift, and the most precious; and
then, too, it would betray what your sister rightly called a 'sacred
confidence.' And yet something must be done--you must let me think. Do
not mention it again." And then they talked a little of public affairs.
Lady Montfort saw no one, and heard from no one now; but judging from
the journals, she thought the position of the government feeble. "There
cannot be a Protectionist government," she said; "and yet that is the
only parliamentary party of importance. Things will go on till some
blow, and perhaps a slight one, will upset you all. And then who is
to succeed? I think some queer _melange_ got up perhaps by Mr. Bertie
Tremaine."
The last day came. She parted from Endymion with kindness, but not
with tenderness. He was choking with emotion, and tried to imitate her
calmness.
"Am I to write to you?" he asked in a faltering voice.
"Of course you are," she said, "every day, and tell me all the news."
The Hainaults, and the Beaumaris, and Waldershare, did not return to
England until some time after Easter. The marriage was to take place
in June--Endymion was to be Waldershare's best man. There were many
festivities, and he was looked upon as an indispensable guest in all.
Adriana received his congratulations with animation, but with affection.
She thanked him for a bracelet which he had presented to her; "I value
it more," she said, "than all my other presents together, except
what dear Waldershare has given to me." Even with that exception, the
estimate was high, for never a bride in any land ever received the
number of splendid offerings which crowded the tables of Lord Hainault's
new palace, which he had just built in Park Lane. There was not a
Neuchatel in existence, and they flourished in every community, who did
not send her, at least, a riviere of brilliants. King Florestan and
his queen sent offerings worthy of their resplendent throne and their
invaluable friendship. But nothing surpassed, nothing approached,
the contents of a casket, which, a day before the wedding, arrived
at Hainault House. It came from a foreign land, and Waldershare
superintended the opening of the case, and the appearance of a casket of
crimson velvet, with genuine excitement. But when it was opened! There
was a coronet of brilliants; a necklace of brilliants and emeralds,
and all the stones more than precious; gems of Golconda no longer
obtainable, and lustrous companions which only could have been created
in the hot earth of Asia. From whom? Not a glimpse of meaning. All that
was written, in a foreign handwriting on a sheet of notepaper, was, "For
the Lady Viscountess Waldershare."
"When the revolution comes," said Lord Hainault, "Lord Waldershare and
my daughter must turn jewellers. Their stock in trade is ready."
The correspondence between Lady Montfort and Endymion had resumed its
ancient habit. They wrote to each other every day, and one day she told
him that she had purchased a house, and that she must come up to town to
examine and to furnish it. She probably should be a month in London,
and remaining there until the end of the season, in whose amusements
and business, of course, she could not share. She should "be at papa's,"
though he and his family were in town; but that was no reason why
Endymion should not call on her. And he came, and called every day. Lady
Montfort was full of her new house; it was in Carlton Gardens, the house
she always wished, always intended to have. There is nothing like will;
everybody can do exactly what they like in this world, provided they
really like it. Sometimes they think they do, but in general, it is a
mistake. Lady Montfort, it seemed, was a woman who always could do what
she liked. She could do what she liked with Endymion Ferrars; that
was quite certain. Supposed by men to have a strong will and a calm
judgment, he was a nose of wax with this woman. He was fascinated by
her, and he had been fascinated now for nearly ten years. What would be
the result of this irresistible influence upon him? Would it make or
mar those fortunes that once seemed so promising? The philosophers
of White's and the Coventry were generally of opinion that he had no
chance.
Lady Montfort was busy every morning with her new house, but she never
asked Endymion to accompany her, though it seemed natural to do so.
But he saw her every day, and "papa," who was a most kind and courtly
gentleman, would often ask him, "if he had nothing better to do," to
dine there, and he dined there frequently; and if he were engaged, he
was always of opinion that he had nothing better to do.
At last, however, the season was over; the world had gone to Goodwood,
and Lady Montfort was about to depart to Princedown. It was a dreary
prospect for Endymion, and he could not conceal his feelings. He could
not help saying one day, "Do you know, now that you are going I almost
wish to die."
Alas! she only laughed. But he looked grave. "I am very unhappy," he
sighed rather than uttered.
She looked at him with seriousness. "I do not think our separation need
be very long. Papa and all my family are coming to me in September to
pay me a very long visit. I really do not see why you should not come
too."
Endymion's countenance mantled with rapture. "If I might come, I think I
should be the happiest of men!"
The month that was to elapse before his visit, Endymion was really, as
he said, the happiest of men; at least, the world thought him so.
He seemed to walk upon tip-toe. Parliament was prorogued, office was
consigned to permanent secretaries, and our youthful statesman seemed
only to live to enjoy, and add to, the revelry of existence. Now
at Cowes, now stalking in the Highlands, dancing at balls in the
wilderness, and running races of fantastic feats, full of health, and
frolic, and charm; he was the delight of society, while, the whole time,
he had only one thought, and that was the sacred day when he should
again see the being whom he adored, and that in her beautiful home,
which her presence made more lovely.
Yes! he was again at Princedown, in the bosom of her family; none others
there; treated like one of themselves. The courtly father pressed his
hand; the amiable and refined mother smiled upon him; the daughters,
pretty, and natural as the air, treated him as if they were sisters, and
even the eldest son, who generally hates you, after a little stiffness,
announced in a tone never questioned under the family roof, that
"Ferrars was a first-rate shot."
And so a month rolled on; immensely happy, as any man who has loved,
and loved in a beautiful scene, alone can understand. One morning Lady
Montfort said to him, "I must go up to London about my house. I want
to go and return the same day. Do you know, I think you had better come
with me? You shall give me a luncheon in Hill Street, and we shall
be back by the last train. It will be late, but we shall wake in the
morning in the country, and that I always think a great thing."
And so it happened; they rose early and arrived in town in time to give
them a tolerably long morning. She took him to her house in Carlton
Gardens, and showed to him exactly how it was all she wanted;
accommodation for a first-rate establishment; and then the reception
rooms, few houses in London could compare with them; a gallery and three
saloons. Then they descended to the dining-room. "It is a dining-room,
not a banqueting hall," she said, "which we had at Montfort House, but
still it is much larger than most dining-rooms in London. But, I think
this room, at least I hope you do, quite charming," and she took him to
a room almost as large as the dining-room, and looking into the garden.
It was fitted up with exquisite taste; calm subdued colouring, with
choice marble busts of statesmen, ancient and of our times, but the
shelves were empty.
"They are empty," she said, "but the volumes to fill them are already
collected. Yes," she added in a tremulous voice, and slightly pressing
the arm on which she leant. "If you will deign to accept it, this is the
chamber I have prepared for you."
"Dearest of women!" and he took her hand.
"Yes," she murmured, "help me to realise the dream of my life;" and she
touched his forehead with her lips.
CHAPTER XCIX
The marriage of Mr. Ferrars with Lady Montfort surprised some, but, on
the whole, pleased everybody. They were both of them popular, and no one
seemed to envy them their happiness and prosperity. The union took place
at a season of the year when there was no London world to observe and to
criticise. It was a quiet ceremony; they went down to Northumberland
to Lady Montfort's father, and they were married in his private chapel.
After that they went off immediately to pay a visit to King Florestan
and his queen; Myra had sent her a loving letter.
"Perhaps it will be the first time that your sister ever saw me with
satisfaction," remarked Lady Montfort, "but I think she will love me
now! I always loved her; perhaps because she is so like you."
It was a happy meeting and a delightful visit. They did not talk much of
the past. The enormous change in the position of their host and hostess
since the first days of their acquaintance, and, on their own part, some
indefinite feeling of delicate reserve, combined to make them rather
dwell on a present which was full of novelty so attractive and so
absorbing. In his manner, the king was unchanged; he was never a
demonstrative person, but simple, unaffected, rather silent; with a
sweet temper and a tender manner, he seemed to be gratified that he had
the power of conferring happiness on those around him. His feeling to
his queen was one of idolatry, and she received Berengaria as a sister
and a much-loved one. Their presence and the season of the year made
their life a festival, and when they parted, there were entreaties and
promises that the visit should be often repeated.