A Civil Contract

Lady Oversley, having removed Julia’s hat, had clasped her in her arms, and was tenderly wiping the tears from her face, but she looked up at this, and exclaimed: “Live in a cottage? Oh, no, dearest, you would be very ill- advised to do that! Particularly a thatched one, for I believe thatch harbours rats, though nothing, of course, is more picturesque and I perfectly understand why you should have a fancy for it! But you would find it sadly uncomfortable: it wouldn’t do for you at all, or for Adam either, I daresay, for you have both of you been accustomed to live in such a very different style. And as for hens, I would not on any account rear such dispiriting birds! You know how it is whenever an extra number of eggs is needed in the kitchen: the hen-woman is never able to supply them, and always says if s because the creatures are broody. Yes, and then they make sad noises, which you, my love, with your exquisite sensibility, would find quite insupportable. And pigs,” concluded her ladyship, with a shudder, “have a most unpleasant odour!”

Julia, tearing herself out of that soft embrace, started to her feet, dashing a hand across her eyes. Addressing herself to Adam, standing rigid behind a chair, his hands gripping its back, she said in a voice choked by sobs: “I could have borne any privation — any discomfort! Remember it!” She laughed hysterically, and hurried to the door. Looking back, as she opened it, she added: “My courage did not fail! Remember that too!”

“Well, of all the shabby things to have said!” ejaculated Mr Oversley, as the door slammed behind his sister.

“Hush, Charlie!” commanded his mama. She went to Adam, and warmly embraced him. “Dear boy, you have done just as you ought — just as we knew you would! My heart aches for you! But don’t despair! I am persuaded you will come about! Recollect what the poet says! I’m not sure which poet, but very likely it was Shakespeare, because it generally is, though why I can’t imagine!”

With these obscure but encouraging words she departed, pausing only to recommend Mr Oversley to follow her example. Only too thankful to escape from this painful scene, Mr Oversley took leave of Adam. When he had gone, Adam said: “I think, sir, that I’ll take myself off too.”

“Yes, in a minute!” Oversley said. “Adam — what you said to Julia — Fontley — You are not serious? Things are not as bad as that?”

“I was quite serious, sir.”

“Good God! But you must have ten or twelve thousand acres of good land!”

“Yes, sir. Much of it encumbered, and all of it so neglected that the rent-roll has dwindled to little more than a thousand pounds a year. It could be ten times as much if I had the means — ” He stopped. “Well, I haven’t the means, and I can only hope that someone more fortunately circumstanced will perceive how easily farms worth no more than twelve shillings an acre might be valued, five years from now perhaps, at four times that sum. I think we must be fifty years behind the times at Fontley.”

Hardly heeding him, Oversley exclaimed: “Adam, this must not be! Yes, yes, I know! You’re saddled with short tenancies — no proper covenants — open fields — too much flax and mustard being grown — bad drainage — But these ills can be remedied!”

“Not by me,” Adam replied. “If I had twenty — fifteen — even ten thousand pounds at my disposal I think there is a great deal I could do — supposing that I were free of debt, which, unhappily, I am not.”

Looking very much shocked, Oversley began to pace up and down the room. “I hadn’t thought — Good God, what can have possessed — Well, never mind that! Something must be done! Sell Fontley! And what then? Oh, yes, yes! You’ll rid yourself of debt, provide for your sisters, but what of yourself? Have you considered that, boy?”

“I daresay I shan’t find myself quite destitute, sir. And if I do — why, I shan’t be the first officer to live on his pay! I haven’t sold out, you know. As soon as I’ve settled my affairs — ”

“Nonsense!” interjected Oversley. “Don’t stand there talking as though selling your birthplace was no more to you than disposing of a horse whose action you don’t like!” He resumed his pacing, his brow furrowed. After a few moments, he said over his shoulder: “Julia’s not the wife for you, you know. You don’t think it now, but you’ll live to be glad of this day’s work.” Receiving no answer to this, he repeated: “Something must be done! I don’t scruple to tell you, Adam, that I think it your duty to save Fontley, whatever it may cost you to do it.”

“If I knew how it might be done I don’t think I should count the cost,” Adam said, a little wearily. “Unfortunately, I don’t know. Don’t tease yourself over my affairs, sir! I shall come about. I’ll take my leave of you now.”

“Wait!” said Oversley, emerging briefly from deep cogitations.

Adam resigned himself. Silence reigned, while his lordship stood frowning at the carpet. After a long pause he looked up, and said: “I think I may be able to help you. Oh, don’t stiffen up! I’m not offering to frank you, my dear boy! The lord knows I would if I could, but it’s all I can do to keep myself above hatches. This curst war! Ay, and if Boney is beaten before the year’s out — did you see that Bordeaux has declared for the Bourbons? The latest on-dit is that there’s a deputation coming to invite Louis to go back to France. I have it on pretty good authority that they are expecting it, at Hartwell. I don’t know how it will answer, and in any event they don’t look for any sudden prosperity in the City, whatever be the outcome. Well, that’s for tomorrow, and not what I had in mind to say to you. It occurs to me — ” He paused, and shook his head. “No, better I shouldn’t disclose to you — I don’t suppose for a moment you’d like it, and I’m not even sure that — Still, it might be worth while to throw out a feeler!” He looked undecidedly at Adam. “Not going back to Fontley immediately, are you? Where are you staying?”

“At Fenton’s, sir. No, I’m not going home for some days yet: there’s a great deal of business to be done, and although Wimmering is very good — far more competent than I am, indeed! — things can’t be settled without me.”

“Good!” said Oversley. “Now, there’s only one thing I have to say to you at present, Adam! Don’t do anything rash until I’ve seen what I can do! I have a notion in my head, but it might well be that it won’t answer, so the least said to you now the better!”

Chapter III

When Adam had left Mount Street Lord Oversley suffered some qualms of conscience, fearing that he had raised hopes that he might presently be obliged to dash to earth. Had he but known it his apprehensions were wasted: Adam’s hopes were not at all raised. If, at a moment of severe emotional stress, he had been capable of weighing them, he would have concluded that they were the words of a kindly optimist, for he could imagine no way in which Oversley could rescue him from his embarrassments. He was not so capable. For many hours the ruin of his own hopes drove the larger problems with which he was confronted to the back of his brain. They were not forgotten, but while his lost love’s breaking voice still echoed in his ears, and her beautiful face was vivid in his memory, every other ill seemed trivial.

In some detached corner of his mind he knew that his present despair could not, in nature, endure, and ought not to be encouraged, but it was long before he could drag his thoughts from contemplation of what might have been and concentrate them instead on what must be. It was perhaps fortunate that there was too much business demanding his attention to leave him with much time for reflection. It acted as a counter-irritant rather than a palliative, but it kept him fully occupied.

A diversion, which presented him with an added anxiety, as well as some inevitable amusement, was provided by his younger sister, who sent him a long letter, for which he was obliged to disburse the sum of two shillings. Lydia apologized for this vicarious extravagance, pointing out to him that since he was away from home she had been unable to obtain a frank.

She had abandoned her matrimonial schemes. Charlotte (Adam invoked a silent blessing on her head) was of the opinion that the acquisition of a wealthy and senile husband was not a matter to be accomplished with the speed requisite for the re-establishment of the family fortunes. Recognizing the force of this argument, Lydia wrote to warn Adam not to place any reliance on her former project. In a loving attempt to alleviate the pangs of disappointment she assured him that if she should contrive, at some future date, to achieve her ambition her first care would be to compel her hapless spouse to buy back Fontley, and to bestow it instantly on her dear Adam.