The Marriage of Elinor Part 40

Mr. Tatham was dining out that night, which was a good thing for him to distract his thoughts from this problem, which he could only torment himself about and could not solve; and there was an evening party at the same house--one of those quieter, less-frequented parties which are, people in London tell you, so much more agreeable than in the crowd of the season. It was a curious kind of coincidence that at this little a.s.sembly, which might have been thought not at all in her way, he met Lady Mariamne, accompanied by her daughter, again. It was not in her way, being a judge's house, where frivolity, though it had a certain place, was not the first element. But then when there are few things to choose from, people must not be too particular, and those who cannot have society absolutely of their own choosing, are bound, as in other cases of necessity, to take what they can get. And then Dolly liked to hear people talking of things which she did not understand. When Lady Mariamne saw that John Tatham was there she gave a little shriek of satisfaction, and rushed at him as if they had been the dearest friends in the world. "So delighted to see you _again_," she cried, giving everybody around the idea of the most intimate relationship. "It was the most wonderful good fortune that I got my Toto home in safety, poor darling; for you know, Mr. Tatham, you would not give him any tea, and Dolly, who is quite unnatural, pitched him into the carriage and simply sat upon him--sat upon him, Mr. Tatham! before I could interfere. Oh, you do not know half the trials a woman has to go through! And now please take me to have some coffee or something, and let us finish the conversation we were having when Dolly made me go away."

John could not refuse his arm, nor his services in respect to the coffee, but he was mute on the subject on which his companion was bent.

He tried to divert her attention by some questions on the subject of Dolly instead.

"Dolly! oh, yes, she's a girl of the period, don't you know--not what a girl of the period used to be in _our_ day, Mr. Tatham, when those nasty newspaper people wrote us down. Look at her talking to those two men, and laying down the law. Now, we never laid down the law; we knew best about things in our sphere--dress, and the drawing-room, and what people were doing in society. But Dolly would tell you how to manage your next great case, Mr. Tatham, or she could give one of those doctor-men a wrinkle about cutting off a leg. Gracious, I should have fainted only to hear of such a thing! Tell me, are those doctor-men supposed to be in society?" Lady Mariamne cried, putting up her thin shoulder (which was far too like a specimen of anatomy) in the direction of a famous physician who was blandly smiling upon the instruction which Miss Dolly a.s.suredly intended to convey.

"As much as lawyer-men are in society," replied John.

"Oh, Mr. Tatham, such nonsense! Lawyers have always been in society.

What are the Attorney General and Lord Chancellor and so forth? They are all lawyers; but I never heard of a doctor that was in the Cabinet, which makes all the difference. Here is a quiet corner, where n.o.body can disturb us. Sit down; it will be for all the world like sitting out a dance together: and tell me about Nell and her boy."

"And what if I have nothing to tell?" said John, who did not feel at all like sitting out a dance; but, on the contrary, was much more upright and perpendicular than even a queen's counsel of fifty has any need to be.

"Oh, sit down, _please!_ I never could bear a man standing over me, as if he had swallowed a poker. Why did she go off and leave Phil? Where did she go to? I told you I went off on my own hook to that horrid place where they lived, and knocked up the old clergyman and the woman who wanted me to put on a shawl over one of the prettiest gowns I ever had.

Fancy, the Vandal! But they knew nothing at all of her there. Where is Nell, Mr. Tatham? You don't pretend not to know. And the boy? Why he must be about eighteen--and if St. Serf were to die---- Mr. Tatham, you know it is quite, quite intolerable, and not to be borne! I don't know what steps Phil has taken. He has been awfully good--he has never said a word. To hear him you would think she was far too nice to be mixed up with a set of people like us. But now, you know, he must be got hold of--he must, he must! Why, he'd be Lomond if St. Serf were to die! and everybody would be crying out, 'Where's the heir?' After Phil there's the Bagley Comptons, and they would set up for being heirs presumptive, unless you can produce that boy."

"But the boy is not mine that I should produce him," said John.

"Oh, Mr. Tatham! when Nell is your relation, and always, always was advised by you. You may tell that to the Marines, or anybody that will believe it. You need not think you can take me in."

"I hope not to take in anybody. If being advised by me means persistently declining to do what I suggest and recommend----"

"Oh, then, you are of the same opinion as I am!" said Lady Mariamne.

"Bravo! now we shall manage something. If you had been like that years ago when I used to go to you, don't you remember, to beg you to smooth things down--but you would never see it, till the smash came."

"I wish," said John, not without a little bitterness, "that I could persuade you how little influence I have. There are some women, I suppose, who take advice when it is given to them; but the women whom I have ever had anything to do with, I am sorry to say----"

"I'll promise," cried Lady Mariamne, putting her hands and rings together in an att.i.tude of supplication, "to do what you tell me faithfully, if you'll advise me where I'll find the boy. Oh, let Nell alone, if you want to keep her to yourself--I sha'n't spoil sport, Mr.

Tatham, I promise you," she cried, with her shrill laugh; "only tell me where I'll find the boy. What is it you want, Dolly, coming after me like a policeman? Don't you see I am busy? We are sitting out the dance, Mr. Tatham and I."

Dolly did not join in her mother's laugh nor unbend in the least. "As there is no dancing," she said, "and everybody is going, I thought you would prefer to go too."

"But we shall see you to-morrow, Mr. Tatham? Now, I cannot take any refusal. You must come, if it were only for Toto's sake; and Dolly will go out, I hope, on one of her great works and will not come to disturb us, just when I have persuaded you to speak--for you were just going to open your mouth. Now you know you were! Five o'clock to-morrow, Mr. Tatham, whatever happens. Now remember! and you are to tell me everything." She held up her finger to him, half threatening, half coaxing, and then, with a peal of laughter, yielded to Dolly, and was taken away.

"I did not know, Tatham," said the Judge who was his host, "that you were on terms of such friendship with Lady Mariamne."

"Nor did I," said John Tatham, with a yawn.

"Queer thing this is about that old business, in which her brother was mixed up--haven't you heard? one of those companies that came to smash somewhere about twenty years ago. The manager absconded, and there was something queer about the books. Well, the fellow, the manager, has been caught at last, and there will be a trial. It's in your way--you will be offered a brief, no doubt, with refreshers every day, you lucky fellow.

I have just as much trouble and no refreshers. What a fool a man is, Tatham, ever to change the Bar for the Bench! Don't you do it, my dear fellow--take a man's advice who knows."

"At least I shall wait till I am asked," said John.

"Oh, you will be asked sooner or later--but don't do it--take example by those who have gone before you," said the great functionary, shaking his learned head.

And the Judge's wife had also a word to say. "Mr. Tatham," she said, as he took his leave, "I know now what I have to do when I want to secure Lady Mariamne--I shall ask you."

"Do you often want to secure Lady Mariamne?" said John.

"Oh, it is all very well to look as if you didn't care! She is, perhaps, a little _pa.s.see_, but still a great many people think her charming.

Isn't there a family connection?" Lady Wigsby said, with a curiosity which she tried not to make too apparent, for she was acquainted with the ways of the profession, and knew that was the last thing likely to procure her the information she sought.

"It cannot be called a connection. There was a marriage--which turned out badly."

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Tatham, if the question was indiscreet! I hear Lord St. Serf is worse again, and not likely to last long; and there is some strange story about a lost heir."

"Good-night, Lady Wigsby," John replied.

And he added, "Confound Lord St. Serf," under his breath, as he went down-stairs.

But it was not Lord St. Serf, poor man, who had done him no harm, whom John wished to be confounded because at last, after many threatenings, he was about to be so ill-advised as to die. It was some one very different. It was the woman who for much more than twenty years had been the chief object of John Tatham's thoughts.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

Things relapsed into quietness for some time after that combination which seemed to be directed against John's peace of mind. If I said that it is not unusual for the current of events to run very quietly before a great crisis, I should not be saying anything original, since the torrent's calmness ere it dash below has been remarked before now. But it certainly was so in this instance. John, I need scarcely say, did not present himself at Lady Mariamne's on the afternoon at five when he was expected. He wrote a very civil note to say that he was unable to come, and still less able to give the information her ladyship required; and, to tell the truth, in his alarm lest Lady Mariamne should repeat her invasion, Mr. Tatham was guilty of concerting with his clerk, the excellent Simmons, various means of eluding such a danger. And he exercised the greatest circ.u.mspection in regard to his own invitations, and went nowhere where there was the least danger of meeting her. In this way for a few months he had kept himself safe.

It may be imagined, then, how great was his annoyance when Simmons came in again, very diffident, coughing behind his hand, and taking shelter in the shaded part of the room, with the hesitating statement that a lady--who would take no denial, who looked as if she knew the chambers as well as he did, and could hardly be kept from walking straight in--was waiting to see Mr. Tatham. John sprang to his feet with words which were not benedictions. "I thought," he said, "you a.s.s, that you knew exactly what to say."

"But, sir," said Simmons, "it is not the same lady--it is not at all the same lady. It is a lady who----"

But here the question was summarily settled, for the door was pushed open though Simmons still held it with his hand, and a voice, which was more like the voice of Elinor Dennistoun at eighteen than that of Mrs.

Compton, said quickly, "I know, John, that your door can't be shut for me."

"Elinor!" he said, getting up from his chair.

"I know," she repeated, "that there must be some mistake--that your door could not be shut for me."

"No, of course not," he said. "It is all right, Simmons; but who could have thought of seeing you here? It was a contingency I never antic.i.p.ated. When did you come? where are you staying? Is Philip with you?" He overwhelmed her with questions, perhaps by way of stopping her mouth lest she should put questions still more difficult to answer to himself.

"Let me take breath a little," she said. "I scarcely have taken breath since the--thing happened which has brought me here; but I feel a little confidence now with the strong backing I have in you, John."

"My dear Elinor," he said, "I am afraid you must not look for any strong backing in me."

"Why?" she cried. "Have you judged it all beforehand? And do you know--are you quite, quite sure, John, that I cannot avoid it in any way, that I am obliged at all costs to appear? I would rather fly the country, I would rather leave Lakeside altogether and settle abroad.

There is nothing in the world that I would not rather do."

"Elinor," said John, with some sternness, "you cannot believe that I would oppose you in any possible thing. Your pleasure has been a law to me. I may have differed with you, but I have never made any difference."

"John! you do not mean to say," she cried, turning pale, "that you are going to abandon me now?"

"Of course, that is merely a figure of speech," he said. "How could I abandon you? But it is quite true what that woman says, and I entirely agree with her and not with you in this respect, that the heir to a peerage cannot be hid----"

"The heir to a peerage!" she faltered, looking at him astonished.

Gradually a sort of slowly growing light seemed to diffuse itself over her face. "The heir to a peerage, John! I don't know what you mean."