Frank Fairlegh

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CHAPTER XXXVIII PACING THE ENEMY

"'Sir,' said the Count, with brow exceeding grave,
'Your unexpected presence here will make
It necessary for myself to crave
Its import? But perhaps it's a mistake.
I hope it is so; and at once, to waive
All compliment, I hope so for your sake.
You understand my meaning, or you shall.'"
_Beppo_.

"IS your master--is Mr. Vernor at home?" inquired I of the grim-visaged
old servant, who looked, if possible, taller and more wooden than when I
had last seen him.

"Well, I suppose not, sir!" was the somewhat odd reply.

"You suppose!" repeated I; "if you have any doubt, had you not better go
and see?"

"That won't be of no manner of use, sir," was the rejoinder; "I should
not be none the wiser."

It was clear that the old man was a complete original; but his affection
for Clara was a virtue which in my eyes would have atoned for any amount
of eccentricity; and as I was anxious to stand well in his good graces,
I ~297~~ determined to fall in with his humour; accordingly I replied
with a smile, "How do you make out that--did you never hear that seeing
is believing?"

"Not always, sir," he answered, "for if I'd a trusted to my
eyesight--and it ain't so bad neither for a man that's no great way
off sixty--I should have fancied Muster Wernor was a sitting in the
liberrary; but he told me he was not at home hisself, and he ought to
know best."

"Tell him I won't detain him long," returned I, "but that I am come on
business of importance."

"'Tain't of no manner of use, young gentleman," was the reply; "he told
me he wasn't at home, and he said it uncommon cross too, as if he
meant it, and if I was to go to him twenty times he'd only say the same
thing." "What's your name, my good friend?" inquired I. "Peter Barnett,
at your service, sir," was the answer. "Well, then, Peter, we must
contrive to understand one another a little better. You have known your
young mistress from a child, and have a sincere regard for her--is it
not so?"

"What, Miss Clara, God bless her!--why, I love her as if she was my own
flesh and blood; I should be a brute if I didn't, poor lamb."

"Well, then, when I tell you that her happiness is very nearly connected
with the object of my visit--when I say, that it is to prevent her from
being obliged to do something of which she has the greatest abhorrence
that I am anxious to meet Mr. Vernor--I am sure you will contrive that I
shall see him."

As I concluded, the old man, muttering to himself, "That's it, is it?"
began to examine me from top to toe with a critical glance, as if I had
been some animal he was about to purchase; and when he reached my face,
gazed at me long and fixedly, as though striving to read my character.
Apparently the result of his scrutiny was favourable, for after again
saying in a low tone, "Well, I likes the looks of him," he added, "This
way, young gentleman--you shall see him if that's what you want--it
ain't a hanging matter, after all". As he spoke, he threw open the door
of the library, saying, "Gentleman says his business is wery partikler,
so I thought you'd better see him yourself".

Mr. Vernor, who was seated at a table writing, rose on my entrance,
bowed stiffly to me, and, casting a withering glance on Peter Barnett,
signed to him to shut the door. As soon as that worthy had obeyed the
command, he ~298~~ resumed his seat, and, addressing me with the same
frigid politeness which he had shown on the occasion of my first visit
to him, said, "I am somewhat occupied this morning, and must therefore
be excused for inquiring at once what very particular business Mr.
Fairlegh can have with me". His tone and manner, as he spoke, were such
as to render me fully aware of the pleasant nature of the task before
me; namely, to make the most disagreeable communication possible, to
the most disagreeable person to whom such a communication could be made.
Still, I was regularly in for it; there was nothing left for me but to
"go a-head"; and as I thought of Clara and her sorrows, the task seemed
to lose half its difficulty. However, it was not without some hesitation
that I began:--

"When you learn the object of my visit, sir, you will perceive that I
have not intruded upon you without reason". I paused; but, finding he
remained silent, added--"As you are so much occupied this morning, I
had better perhaps enter at once upon the business which has brought me
here. You are probably aware that I have had the pleasure of spending
the last few days in the same house with Miss Saville." As I mentioned
Clara's name, his brow grew dark as night; but he still continued
silent, and I proceeded. "It is, I should conceive, impossible for
anyone to enjoy the privilege of that young lady's society, without
experiencing the warmest feelings of admiration and interest. Towards
the termination of her visit, accident led me to the knowledge of her
acquaintance with Mr. Cumberland, who I then learned, for the first
time, was your nephew. I would not willingly say anything which might
distress or annoy you, Mr. Vernor," continued I, interrupting myself,
"but I fear that, in order to make myself intelligible, I must advert to
an affair which I would willingly have forgotten."

"Go on, sir," was the reply, in a cold sarcastic tone of voice--"pray
finish your account without reference to my feelings; I am not likely to
alarm your sensibility by any affecting display of them."

As the most sceptical could not have doubted for a moment the truth
of this assertion, I resumed: "From my previous knowledge of Mr.
Cumberland's character, I could not but consider him an unfit
acquaintance for a young lady; and, on hinting this, and endeavouring to
ascertain the extent of Miss Saville's intimacy with him, I was equally
shocked and surprised to learn that she was actually engaged to him, and
that you not only sanctioned the engagement, but were even desirous that
the match ~299~~ should take place. Feeling sure that this could only
proceed from your being ignorant of the character of the class of
persons with whom your nephew associates, and the more than questionable
reputation he has thereby acquired, I considered it my duty to afford
you such information as may enable you to ascertain for yourself the
truth of the reports which have reached my ear."

"Exceedingly conscientious and praiseworthy: I ought to feel infinitely
indebted to you, young gentleman," interrupted Mr. Vernor sarcastically;
"of course you made the young lady acquainted with your disinterested
and meritorious intentions '?"

"I certainly thought it right to inform Miss Saville of the facts I have
mentioned, and to obtain her permission, ere I ventured to interfere in
her behalf."

As I spoke, the gloom on Mr. Vernor's brow grew darker, and I expected
an outburst of rage, but his self-control was stronger than 1 had
imagined, for it was in the same cold ironical manner that he replied,
"And may I ask, supposing this iniquitous engagement to have been broken
off by your exertions, is Virtue to be its own reward? will you sit down
content with having done your duty? or have you not some snug little
scheme _in petto_, to console the disconsolate damsel for her loss? If I
am not mistaken, you were professing warm feelings of admiration for my
ward a few minutes since."

"Had you waited till I had finished speaking, you would have perceived,
sir, that your taunt was undeserved. I have no wish to conceal anything
from you--on the contrary, one of my chief objects in seeking this
interview was to inform you of the deep and sincere affection I
entertain for Miss Saville, and of my intention of coming forward to
seek her hand, as soon as my professional prospects shall enable me to
support a wife."

"And have you succeeded in inducing the lady to promise, that, in the
event of my allowing her to break off her present engagement, she will
wait for the somewhat remote and visionary contingency you have hinted
at?"

"I have never made the attempt, sir," replied I, drawing myself up
proudly, for I began to think that I was carrying forbearance too far,
in submitting thus tamely to his repeated insults; "my only desire is
to convince you of the necessity of breaking off this preposterous
engagement, which is alike unsuitable in itself, and distasteful to
Miss Saville; for the rest, I must trust to time, and to the unshaken
constancy of my own affection (with ~300~~ which it is only fair to tell
you the young lady is acquainted), for the accomplishment of my hopes.
Had I the power to fetter your ward by a promise which she might
afterwards be led to repent, nothing should induce me to make use of
it."

"Really, your moderation is quite unparalleled," exclaimed Mr. Vernor;
"such generosity now might be almost calculated to induce a romantic
girl to persuade her guardian to allow her to marry at once, and devote
her fortune to the purpose of defraying the household expenses, till
such time as the professional expectations you mention should be
realised; and Clara Saville is just the girl who might do it, for I
am afraid I must distress your magnanimity by informing you of a
circumstance, of which, of course, you have not the slightest idea at
present, namely, that if Miss Saville should marry with her guardian's
consent, she will become the possessor of a very considerable fortune:
what think you of such a plan?"

"Mr. Vernor," replied I, "I was aware that the communication I had to
make to you was calculated to pain and annoy you, and that circumstances
obliged me to urge my suit at a moment most disadvantageous to its
success; I did not therefore imagine that our interview was likely to be
a very agreeable one; but I own I did expect to have credit given me for
honourable motives, and to be treated with the consideration due from
one gentleman to another."

"It grieves me to have disappointed such moderate and reasonable
expectations," was the reply; "but, unfortunately, I have acquired a
habit of judging men rather by their actions than their words, and
forming my opinion accordingly; and by the opinion thus formed I
regulate my conduct towards them."

"May I inquire what opinion you can possibly have formed of me, which
would justify your treating me otherwise than as a gentleman?" asked
I, as calmly as I was able, for I was most anxious not to allow him to
perceive the degree to which his taunts irritated me.

"Certainly; only remember, if it is not exactly what you approve, that I
mention it in compliance with your own express request--but first, for
I am unwilling to do you injustice, let me be sure that I understand
you clearly:--you state that you are unable to marry till you shall
have realised by your profession an income sufficient to support a wife;
therefore, I presume that your patrimony is somewhat limited."

~301~~ "You are right, sir; my poor father was too liberal a man to
die rich; my present income is somewhat less than a hundred pounds per
annum."

"And your profession?"

"It is my intention to begin reading for the bar almost immediately."

"A profession usually more honourable than lucrative for the first ten
years or so. Well, young gentleman, the case seems to stand very much as
I imagined, nor do I perceive any reason for altering my opinion of
your conduct. Chance throws in your way a young lady, possessing great
beauty, who is prospective heiress to a very valuable property, and it
naturally enough occurs to you, that making love is likely to be more
agreeable, and in the present instance more profitable also, than
reading law; accordingly, you commence operations, and for some time all
goes on swimmingly, Miss Saville, like any other girl in her situation,
having no objection to vary the monotony of a long engagement by a
little innocent flirtation; affairs of this kind, however, seldom run
smoothly long together, and at some moment, when you were rather more
pressing than usual, the young lady thinks it advisable to inform you,
that in accordance with her father's dying wish, and of her own free
will, she has engaged herself to the nephew of her guardian, who
strangely enough happens to be an old schoolfellow of yours, against
whom you have always nourished a strong and unaccountable feeling of
dislike. Here, then, was a famous opportunity to display those talents
for plotting and manoeuvring which distinguished Mr. Fairlegh even in
his boyish days; accordingly, a master-scheme is invented, whereby
the guardian shall be cajoled and brow-beaten into giving his consent,
enmity satisfied by the rival's discomfiture and overthrow, and talent
rewarded by obtaining possession of the young lady and her fortune. As
a first step you take advantage of a lover's quarrel to persuade Miss
Saville that she is averse to the projected alliance, and trump up
an old tale of some boyish scrape to induce her to believe Cumberland
unworthy of her preference, ending, doubtless, by modestly proposing
yourself as a substitute. Inexperience, and the natural capriciousness
of woman, stand your friend; the young lady appears for the moment
gained over, and, flushed with success, the bold step of this morning is
resolved upon. Such, sir, is my opinion of your conduct. It only remains
for me to inform you that 1 have not the slightest intention of
breaking off the engagement in ~302~~ consequence of your disinterested
representations, nor, under any circumstances, would I allow my ward
to throw herself away upon a needy fortune-hunter. There can be nothing
more to say, I think; and as I have some important papers to look over
this morning, I dare say you will excuse my ringing the bell."

"One moment, sir," replied I warmly, "although your age prevents my
taking notice of the unprovoked insults you have seen fit to heap upon
me----"

"Really," interposed Mr. Vernor, in a deprecating tone, "you must pardon
me; I have not time for all this sort of thing to-day."

"You shall hear me!" exclaimed I passionately; "I have listened in
silence to accusations calculated to make the blood of any man, worthy
to be so called, boil in his veins--accusations which, at the very
moment you utter them, you know to be entirely false: you know well Miss
Saville's just and deeply rooted aversion to this match, and you know
that it existed before she and I had ever met; you know the creditable
nature of what you term the 'boyish scrape,' in which your nephew was
engaged--a scrape which, but for the generous forbearance of others,
might have ended in his transportation as a convicted felon; and this
knowledge (even if you are ignorant of the dishonourable and vicious
course of life he now leads) should be enough to prevent your
sanctioning such a marriage. I pass over your insinuations respecting
myself in silence; should I again prefer my suit for Miss Saville's hand
to you, it will be as no needy fortune-hunter that I shall do so; but
once more let me implore you to pause--reconsider the matter--inquire
for yourself into your nephew's pursuits--ascertain the character of his
associates, and then judge whether he is a fit person to be entrusted
with the happiness of such a being as Clara Saville."

"Vastly well, sir! exceedingly dramatic, indeed!" observed Mr. Vernor,
with a sneer; "you really have quite a talent for--genteel comedy, I
think they call it; you would be perfect in the line of character termed
the 'walking gentleman'--have you ever thought of the stage?"

"I perceive," replied I, "that by remaining here, I shall only subject
myself to additional insult: determined to carry out your own bad
purpose, you obstinately close your ears to the voice alike of reason
and of conscience; and now," I added, in a stern tone, "hear my resolve:
I have promised Miss Saville to save her from Richard ~303~~ Cumberland;
as the fairest and most honourable way of doing so, I applied to you,
her lawful guardian and protector; I have failed, and you have insulted
and defied me. I now tell you, that I will leave NO MEANS untried to
defeat your nefarious project, and, if evil or disgrace should befal you
or yours in consequence, upon your own head be it. You may smile at
my words, and disregard them as idle threats which I am powerless to
fulfil, but remember, you have no longer a helpless girl to deal with,
but a determined man, who, with right and justice on his side, may yet
thwart your cunningly devised schemes;--and so, having given you fair
warning, I will leave you."

"Allow me to mention one fact, young sir," returned Mr. Vernor, "which
demands your serious attention, as it may prevent you from committing
a fatal error, and save you all further trouble. Should Clara Saville
marry without my consent, she does so penniless, and the fortune
devolves upon the next heir; ha!" he exclaimed, as I was unable to
repress an exclamation of pleasure, "have I touched you there?"

"You have indeed, sir," was my reply; "for you have removed the only
scruple which stood in my way. No one can now accuse me of interested
motives; 'needy fortune-hunters' do not seek to ally themselves to
portionless damsels; allow me to offer you my best thanks for your
information, and to wish you good-morning, sir."

So saying, I rose and quitted the room, leaving Mr. Vernor, in a state
of ill-suppressed rage, to the enjoyment of his own reflections.

On entering the hall, I found old Peter Barnett awaiting me. As I
appeared, his stiff features lighted up with a most sagacious grin of
intelligence, and approaching me, he whispered:--

"Did ye give it him strong?" (indicating the person he referred to by
an expressive jerk of his thumb towards the library door). "I heard ye
blowing of him up--but did ye give it him reg'lar strong?"

"I certainly told Mr. Vernor my opinion with tolerable plainness,"
replied I, smiling at the intense delight which was visible in every
line of the strange old face beside me.

"No! Did ye?--did ye? That was right," was the rejoinder. "Lor! how I
wish I'd a been there to see; but I heard ye though--I heard ye a giving
it to him," and again he relapsed into a paroxysm of delight.

"Peter," said I, "I want to have a little private conversation with
you--how is that to be managed? Is there any place near where you could
meet me?" ~304~~ "You come here from Hillingford, didn't ye, sir?" I
nodded assent. He continued:--"Did you notice a hand-post which stands
where four roads meet, about a mile and a half from here?"

"I saw it," returned I, "and even tried to read what was painted on it,
but of course, after the manner of all country direction posts, it was
totally illegible."

"Well, when you get there, take the road to the left, and ride on till
ye see an ale-house on the right-hand side, and stay there till I come
to ye."

"I will," replied I, "but don't keep me waiting longer than you can
help--there's a good man."

An understanding grin was his only answer; and mounting my unpleasant
horse (who seemed much more willing to proceed quietly when his head
was turned in a homeward direction), I rode slowly through the park, my
state of mind affording a practical illustration, that Quintus Horatius
Flaccus was about right in his conjecture that Care sometimes indulged
herself with a little equestrian exercise on a pillion.{1}

1 "Post equitem sedet atra cura."

CHAPTER XXXIX -- THE COUNCIL OF WAR

"Oh! good old man: how well in thee, appears
The constant service of the antique world!"
--_As You Like It_.

"Now will I deliver his letter; for the behaviour
of the young gentleman gives him out to be of
good capacity and breeding."
--_Twelfth Night_.

"Farewell! be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains.
Farewell! commend me to thy mistress."
--_Romeo and Juliet_.

THE place of meeting appointed by Peter Barnett was easily discovered,
and having tied up my horse under a shed, which served the double
purpose of stable and coach-house, I took possession of a small
room with a sanded floor, and throwing myself back in a most uneasy
easy-chair, began to think over my late interview, and endeavour to
devise some practicable plan for the future. The first thing was to
establish some means of free communication with Clara, and this I hoped
to accomplish by the assistance of Peter Barnett. I should thus learn
Mr. Vernor's proceedings, and be able to regulate my ~305~~ conduct
accordingly. If, as I dreaded, he should attempt to force on the
marriage immediately, would Clara, alone and unassisted, have sufficient
courage and strength of purpose to resist him? I feared not; and how
was I effectually to aid her? The question was more easily asked than
answered. It was clear that her fortune was the thing aimed at, for I
could not believe either Mr. Vernor or his nephew likely to be actuated
by disinterested motives;--and it was to their avarice, then, that Clara
was to be sacrificed--had she been portionless she would have been free
to marry whom she pleased. Of all sources of evil and misery, money
appears to be the most prolific; in the present case its action was
twofold--Clara was rendered wretched in consequence of possessing it,
while the want of it incapacitated me from boldly claiming her hand at
once, which appeared to be the only effectual method of assisting her.

My meditations were at this point interrupted by the arrival of my
future privy counsellor, Peter Barnett, who marched solemnly into the
room, drew himself up to his full height, which very nearly equalled
that of the ceiling, brought his hand to his forehead in a military
salute, and then, closing the door cautiously, and with an air of
mystery, stood at ease, evidently intending me to open the conversation.

"Well, Peter," began I, by way of something to say, for I felt the
greatest difficulty in entering on the subject which then occupied my
thoughts before such an auditor. "Well, Peter, you have not kept me
waiting long; I scarcely expected to see you so soon: do you imagine
that Mr. Vernor will remark your absence?"

"He knows it already," was the reply. "Why, bless ye, sir, he ordered me
to go out hisself." "Indeed! how was that?"

"Why, as soon as you was gone, sir, he pulled the bell like mad. 'Send
Mr. Richard here,' says he. 'Yes, sir,' says I, 'certingly; only he's
not at home, sir.' When he heard this he grumbled out an oath, or
sumthin' of that nature, and I was going to take myself off, for I see
he wasn't altogether safe, when he roars out 'Stop!' ('You'd a said
"halt," if you'd a been a officer or a gentleman, which you ain't
neither,' thinks I.) 'What do you mean by letting people in when I have
given orders to the contrairy?' says he. 'Who was it as blowed me up for
sending away a gent as said he wanted to see you on partiklar business,
only yesterday?' says I. That bothered him nicely, and he didn't know
how to be down upon me; ~306~~ but at last he thought he'd serve me one
of his old tricks. So he says, 'Peter, what are you doing to-day'?' I
see what he was at, and I thought I'd ketch him in his own trap. 'Very
busy a cleaning plate, sir,' says I. This was enough for him: if I was
a cleaning plate, in course I shouldn't like to be sent out; so says he,
'Go down to Barnsley, and see whether Mr. Cumberland is there'. 'But the
plate, sir?' 'Never mind the plate.' 'It won't never look as it ought to
do, if I am sent about in this way,' says I. 'Do as you're ordered,
and leave the room instantly,' says he, grinding his teeth reg'lar
savage-like. So I took him at his word, and come away to see you as hard
as I could pelt; but you've put him into a sweet temper, Mr. Fairlegh."

"Why, that I'm afraid was scarcely to be avoided," replied I, "as my
business was to inform him that I considered his nephew an unfit person
to marry his ward."

"Oh! did you tho'?--did you tell him that?" cried my companion, with a
chuckle of delight; "that was right: I wonder how he liked that!"

"As he did not exactly agree with me in this opinion, but, on the
contrary, plainly declared his intention of proceeding with the match
in spite of me, it is necessary for me to consider what means I can best
use to prevent him from accomplishing his object; it is in this that 1
shall require your assistance."

"And what does Miss Clara say about it, young gentleman?" inquired the
old man, fixing his eyes on me with a scrutinising glance.

"Miss Saville dislikes Richard Cumberland, and dreads the idea of being
forced to marry him above everything." "Ah! I know she does, poor lamb;
and well she may, for there ain't a more dissipateder young scoundrel to
be found nowhere than Mr. Wernor's precious 'nephew,' as he calls him,
tho' it's my belief he might call him 'son' without telling a lie."

"Indeed! I was not aware that Mr. Vernor had ever been married."

"No; I never heard that he was reg'lar downright married; but he may
be his son, for all that. Howsurn-ever, p'raps it is so, or p'raps it
ain't; I'm only a tellin' you what I fancies, sir," was the reply. "But
what I wanted to know," he continued, again fixing his eyes on my face,
"is, what does Miss Clara say to you? eh!"