“A title.”
“But what does that do of itself? He is an insolent, bloated brute.”
“Papa, you are using strong language tonight.”
“And that Lady Eustace! Heaven and earth! Am I to be told that that creature is a lady?”
They had now come to their own door, and while that was being opened and as they went up into their own drawing-room, nothing was said, but then Emily began again. “I wonder why you go to Aunt Harriet’s at all. You don’t like the people?”
“I didn’t like any of them today.”
“Why do you go there? You don’t like Aunt Harriet herself. You don’t like Uncle Dick. You don’t like Mr. Lopez.”
“Certainly I do not.”
“I don’t know who it is you do like.”
“I like Mr. Fletcher.”
“It’s no use saying that to me, papa.”
“You ask me a question, and I choose to answer it. I like Arthur Fletcher, because he is a gentleman—because he is a gentleman of the class to which I belong myself; because he works; because I know all about him, so that I can be sure of him; because he had a decent father and mother; because I am safe with him, being quite sure that he will say to me neither awkward things nor impertinent things. He will not talk to me about driving a mail coach like that foolish baronet, nor tell me the price of all his wines like your uncle.” Nor would Ferdinand Lopez do so, thought Emily to herself. “But in all such matters, my dear, the great thing is like to like. I have spoken of a young person, merely because I wish you to understand that I can sympathise with others besides those of my own age. But tonight there was no one there at all like myself—or, as I hope, like you. That man Roby is a chattering ass. How such a man can be useful to any government I can’t conceive. Happerton was the best, but what had he to say for himself? I’ve always thought that there was very little wit wanted to make a fortune in the City.” In this frame of mind Mr. Wharton went off to bed, but not a word more was spoken about Ferdinand Lopez.
XI
Carlton Terrace
Certainly the thing was done very well by Lady Glen—as many in the political world persisted in calling her even in these days. She had not as yet quite carried out her plan—the doing of which would have required her to reconcile her husband to some excessive abnormal expenditure, and to have obtained from him a deliberate sanction for appropriation and probable sale of property. She never could find the proper moment for doing this, having, with all her courage—low down in some corner of her heart—a wholesome fear of a certain quiet power which her husband possessed. She could not bring herself to make her proposition;—but she almost acted as though it had been made and approved. Her house was always gorgeous with flowers. Of course there would be the bill;—and he, when he saw the exotics, and the whole place turned into a bower of ever fresh blooming floral glories, must know that there would be the bill. And when he found that there was an archducal dinner-party every week, and an almost imperial reception twice a week; that at these receptions a banquet was always provided; when he was asked whether she might buy a magnificent pair of bay carriage-horses, as to which she assured him that nothing so lovely had ever as yet been seen stepping in the streets of London—of course he must know that the bills would come. It was better, perhaps, to do it in this way, than to make any direct proposition. And then, early in June, she spoke to him as to the guests to be invited to Gatherum Castle in August. “Do you want to go to Gatherum in August?” he asked in surprise. For she hated the place, and had hardly been content to spend ten days there every year at Christmas.
“I think it should be done,” she said solemnly. “One cannot quite consider just now what one likes oneself.”
“Why not?”
“You would hardly go to a small place like Matching in your present position. There are so many people whom you should entertain! You would probably have two or three of the foreign ministers down for a time.”
“We always used to find plenty of room at Matching.”
“But you did not always use to be Prime Minister. It is only for such a time as this that such a house as Gatherum is serviceable.”
He was silent for a moment, thinking about it, and then gave way without another word. She was probably right. There was the huge pile of magnificent buildings; and somebody, at any rate, had thought that it behoved a Duke of Omnium to live in such a palace. If it ought to be done at any time, it ought to be done now. In that his wife had been right. “Very well. Then let us go there.”
“I’ll manage it all,” said the Duchess—“I and Locock.” Locock was the house-steward.
“I remember once,” said the Duke, and he smiled as he spoke with a peculiarly sweet expression, which would at times come across his generally inexpressive face—“I remember once that some First Minister of the Crown gave evidence as to the amount of his salary, saying that his place entailed upon him expenses higher than his stipend would defray. I begin to think that my experience will be the same.”
“Does that fret you?”
“No, Cora;—it certainly does not fret me, or I should not allow it. But I think there should be a limit. No man is ever rich enough to squander.”
Though they were to squander her fortune—the money which she had brought—for the next ten years at a much greater rate than she contemplated,
