Mrs. Hittaway was a strong-minded woman—the strongest-minded probably of the Fawn family—but she had now come upon a task which taxed all her strength to the utmost. She had told her mother that she would tell “Frederic” what she thought about his proposed bride, and she had now come to carry out her threat. She had asked her brother to come and dine with her, but he had declined. His engagements hardly admitted of his dining with his relatives. She had called upon him at the rooms he occupied in Victoria Street—but of course she had not found him. She could not very well go to his club;—so now she had hunted him down at his office. From the very commencement of the interview Mrs. Hittaway was strong-minded. She began the subject of the marriage, and did so without a word of congratulation. “Dear Frederic,” she said, “you know that we have all got to look up to you.”
“Well, Clara—what does that mean?”
“It means this—that you must bear with me, if I am more anxious as to your future career than another sister might be.”
“Now I know you are going to say something unpleasant.”
“Yes, I am, Frederic. I have heard so many bad things about Lady Eustace!”
The Undersecretary sat silent for awhile in his great armchair. “What sort of evil things do you mean, Clara?” he asked at last. “Evil things are said of a great many people—as you know. I am sure you would not wish to repeat slanders.”
Mrs. Hittaway was not to be silenced after this fashion. “Not slanders, certainly, Frederic. But when I hear that you intend to raise this lady to the rank and position of your wife, then of course the truth or falsehood of these reports becomes a matter of great moment to us all. Don’t you think you had better see Mr. Camperdown?”
“I have seen him.”
“And what does he say?”
“What should he say? Lady Eustace has, I believe, made some mistake about the condition of her property, and people who have heard it have been good-natured enough to say that the error has been wilful. That is what I call slander, Clara.”
“And have you heard about her jewels?” Mrs. Hittaway was alluding here to the report which had reached her as to Lizzie’s debt to Harter and Benjamin when she married Sir Florian; but Lord Fawn of course thought of the diamond necklace.
“Yes;” said he, “I have heard all about them. Who told you?”
“I have known it ever so long. Sir Florian never got over it.” Lord Fawn was again in the dark, but he did not choose to commit himself by asking further questions. “And then her treatment of Lady Linlithgow, who was her only friend before she married, was something quite unnatural. Ask the dean’s people what they think of her. I believe even they would tell you.”
“Frank Greystock desired to marry her himself.”
“Yes—for her money, perhaps;—because he has not got a farthing in the world. Dear Frederic, I only wish to put you on your guard. Of course this is very unpleasant, and I shouldn’t do it if I didn’t think it my duty. I believe she is artful and very false. She certainly deceived Sir Florian Eustace about her debts;—and he never held up his head after he found out what she was. If she has told you falsehoods, of course you can break it off. Dear Frederic, I hope you won’t be angry with me.”
“Is that all?” he asked.
“Yes;—that is all.”
“I’ll bear it in mind,” he said. “Of course it isn’t very pleasant.”
“No;—I know it is not pleasant,” said Mrs. Hittaway, rising, and taking her departure with an offer of affectionate sisterly greeting, which was not accepted with cordiality.
It was very unpleasant. That very morning Lord Fawn had received letters from the Dean and the Bishop of Bobsborough congratulating him on his intended marriage—both those worthy dignitaries of the Church having thought it expedient to verify Lizzie’s statements. Lord Fawn was, therefore, well aware that Lady Eustace had published the engagement. It was known to everybody, and could not be broken off without public scandal.
XII
“I Only Thought of It”
There was great perturbation down at Fawn Court. On the day fixed, Monday, June 5, Lizzie arrived. Nothing further had been said by Lady Fawn to urge the invitation; but, in accordance with the arrangement already made, Lady Eustace, with her child, her nurse, and her own maid, was at Fawn Court by four o’clock. A very long letter had been received from Mrs. Hittaway that morning—the writing of which must have seriously interfered with the tranquillity of her Sunday afternoon. Lord Fawn did not make his appearance at Richmond on the Saturday evening—nor was he seen on the Sunday. That Sunday was, we may presume, chiefly devoted to reflection. He certainly did not call upon his future wife. His omission to do so no doubt increased Lizzie’s urgency in the matter of her visit to Richmond. Frank Greystock had written to congratulate her. “Dear Frank,” she had said in reply, “a woman situated as I am has so many things to think of. Lord Fawn’s position will be of service to my child. Mind you come and see me at Fawn Court. I count so much on your friendship and assistance.”
Of course she was expected at Richmond—although throughout the morning Lady Fawn had entertained almost a hope that she wouldn’t come. “He was only lukewarm in defending her,”
