“Of course you know what I mean is, that I don’t like troubling your father.”
“Leave that to me. I shall tell him you are coming, and Frank too. Of course you can bring him. Then he can talk to me when papa goes down to his club, and you can arrange your politics with Miss Cass.” So it was settled, and at eight o’clock Lord Silverbridge reappeared in Belgrave Square with Frank Tregear.
Earl Grex was a nobleman of very ancient family, the Grexes having held the parish of Grex, in Yorkshire, from some time long prior to the Conquest. In saying all this, I am, I know, allowing the horse to appear wholesale;—but I find that he cannot be kept out. I may as well go on to say that the present Earl was better known at Newmarket and the Beaufort—where he spent a large part of his life in playing whist—than in the House of Lords. He was a grey-haired, handsome, worn-out old man, who through a long life of pleasure had greatly impaired a fortune which, for an earl, had never been magnificent, and who now strove hard, but not always successfully, to remedy that evil by gambling. As he could no longer eat and drink as he had used to do, and as he cared no longer for the light that lies in a lady’s eye, there was not much left to him in the world but cards and racing. Nevertheless he was a handsome old man, of polished manners, when he chose to use them; a staunch Conservative and much regarded by his party, for whom in his early life he had done some work in the House of Commons.
“Silverbridge is all very well,” he had said; “but I don’t see why that young Tregear is to dine here every night of his life.”
“This is the second time since he has been up in town, papa.”
“He was here last week, I know.”
“Silverbridge wouldn’t come without him.”
“That’s d⸺ nonsense,” said the Earl. Miss Cassewary gave a start—not, we may presume, because she was shocked, for she could not be much shocked, having heard the same word from the same lips very often; but she thought it right always to enter a protest. Then the two young men were announced.
Frank Tregear, having been known by the family as a boy, was Frank to all of them—as was Lady Mabel, Mabel to him, somewhat to the disgust of the father and not altogether with the approbation of Miss Cass. But Lady Mabel had declared that she would not be guilty of the folly of changing old habits. Silverbridge, being Silverbridge to all his own people, hardly seemed to have a Christian name;—his godfathers and godmothers had indeed called him Plantagenet;—but having only become acquainted with the family since his Oxford days he was Lord Silverbridge to Lady Mabel. Lady Mabel had not as yet become Mabel to him, but, as by her very intimate friends she was called Mab, had allowed herself to be addressed by him as Lady Mab. There was thus between them all considerable intimacy.
“I’m deuced glad to hear it,” said the Earl when dinner was announced. For, though he could not eat much, Lord Grex was always impatient when the time of eating was at hand. Then he walked down alone. Lord Silverbridge followed with his daughter, and Frank Tregear gave his arm to Miss Cassewary. “If that woman can’t clear her soup better than that, she might as well go to the d⸺,” said the Earl;—upon which remark no one in the company made any observation. As there were two menservants in the room when it was made the cook probably had the advantage of it. It may be almost unnecessary to add that though the Earl had polished manners for certain occasions he would sometimes throw them off in the bosom of his own family.
“My Lord,” said Miss Cassewary—she always called him “My Lord”—“Lord Silverbridge is going to stand for the Duke’s borough in the Conservative interest.”
“I didn’t know the Duke had a borough,” said the Earl.
“He had one till he thought it proper to give it up,” said the son, taking his father’s part.
“And you are going to pay him off for what he has done by standing against him. It’s just the sort of thing for a son to do in these days. If I had a borough Percival would go down and make radical speeches there.”
“There isn’t a better Conservative in England than Percival,” said Lady Mabel, bridling up.
“Nor a worse son,” said the father. “I believe he would do anything he could lay his hand on to oppose me.” During the past week there had been some little difference of opinion between the father and the son as to the signing of a deed.
“My father does not take it in bad part at all,” said Silverbridge.
“Perhaps he’s ratting himself,” said the Earl. “When a man lends himself to a coalition he is as good as half gone.”
“I do not think that in all England there is so thorough a Liberal as my father,” said Lord Silverbridge. “And when I say that he doesn’t take this badly, I don’t mean that it doesn’t vex him. I know it vexes him. But he doesn’t quarrel with me. He even wrote down to Barsetshire to say that all my expenses at Silverbridge were to be paid.”
“I call that very bad politics,” said the Earl.
“It seems to me to be very grand,” said Frank.
“Perhaps, sir, you don’t know what is good or what is bad in politics,” said the Earl, trying to snub his guest.
But it was difficult to snub Frank. “I know a gentleman when I see him, I think,” he said. “Of course Silverbridge is right to be a Conservative. Nobody has a stronger opinion about that than I have. But the Duke is behaving so well
