“Well, there it is!” said Mr Chawleigh. “I don’t know that there’s much more I’ve got to say at this present, except that I’m not looking for an answer until you’ve had time to turn it over in your mind, my lord.”
Adam got up. “You are very obliging, sir, but — ”
“Nay, think it over before you commit yourself!” interrupted Mr Chawleigh. “Acting hasty is bad business, take my word for it! There’s no saying, after all, that my Jenny would be any more willing than you are. You sleep on it! Ay, and have a talk with his lordship, or your man of business. You want to be sure you’re not being bobbed, and you’ve only got my word for it that I’m a man of substance.”
“I am quite sure you are all you say you are, sir, but, indeed — ”
“Well, so you may be, but if s only reasonable you should want to make a few enquiries. You won’t catch Jonathan Chawleigh buying a pig in a poke, and do as you’d be done by is my motto. If you’re satisfied, which you will be, my idea is you should do us the honour of taking your pot-luck with us in Russell Square one evening, and get acquainted with Jenny. There’ll be no company: just me, and Jenny, and Mrs Quarley-Bix. She’s a good lady I hired to bear Jenny company, and take her into society. And why I call her a good lady I don’t know, for to my mind she’s no great thing. In fact, there are times when I think that I was regularly taken in over her,” said Mr Chawleigh darkly. “It wouldn’t surprise me if I was to discover that she was no more related to these Quarleys of hers than what I am. Or if she is, she’s one of the dirty dishes you get in the best of families, according to what his lordship tells me, and which they don’t own by more than a common bow in passing. I don’t say she hasn’t got an air of fashion, but what I do say is that you’ve only to set her up beside my Lady Oversley to see she ain’t up to the rig. What’s more, the only time I went out driving in the Park with her and Jenny, there was a lot of bowing, and simpering, and waggling of hands, but nobody came up to speak to her. Though that,” he added fairly, “might have been because I was in the barouche, and no one would take me for a man of mode, not if I was to dress myself up to the nines they wouldn’t! Well, well, I’ll be mighty interested to know what you think, my lord, for you’re one as is up to the rig — bang up to it, as I saw at a glance! Mind, that’s assuming Jenny’s agreeable! I haven’t spoken to her yet, but I will.”
Adam, feeling much like aman caught in a tidal wave, made a desperate attempt to battle against an irresistible force. “Mr Chawleigh, I beg you most earnestly to do no such thing! I am fully sensible — I assure you I appreciate — ”
He was once more checked by that large, upflung hand. “You think it over!” recommended Mr Chawleigh kindly. “If you don’t like the notion, when you’ve slept on it, I’ll have no more to say, and so I promise you! But think it over carefully! I know you’re all to pieces, and trying to bring yourself off honourably, and I think the better of you for it. But if you was to make my Jenny a ladyship — and treat her right into the bargain, which I’m pretty sure you would do, and you’d have me to reckon with if you didn’t — there’d be no more worriting about debts or mortgages: that you can depend on! You could hang it up to any tune you please — and there’s my hand on it!”
He held it out as he spoke, saying, as Adam, in a sort of trance, put his own into it: “I’ll bid you good-day now, and that’s my last word for the present!”
Chapter IV
Adam was left to recover from the effects of this shattering visit, which he soon did, passing from revulsion to amusement, and presently banishing the interlude from his mind. It recurred when he sat down to finish his interrupted letter to his sister, and with it the echo of her voice, saying: “One ought to be ready to make sacrifices for one’s family, I think.” She was certainly ready to do so, but she was too young to know what it meant, and she had not yet been in love. He smiled, recalling the naive plan she had made for his relief; but the smile was not a happy one, and it soon faded. He wondered what her ultimate fate would be, and tried to picture her living with Lady Lynton in Bath. Not such a dreadful prospect, it might have been thought; but he found himself looking forward to it with misgiving, and thought that besides securing a part at least of her dowry from the wreck of his fortunes he must contrive to provide her with an allowance, for he could not doubt that whatever economies were practised by Lady Lynton would be at Lydia’s expense. On the only occasion when he had ventured to suggest various ways of retrenchment to her, such as the substitution of a more modest maid for her staggeringly expensive dresser, she had put him utterly to rout by replying that she had considered this expedient, but that when she had asked herself if Poor Papa would have wished her to make this dismal change she had received an unequivocal answer: he would not have wished it at all,
“And you can’t argue that,” had observed Lydia, “because it’s true! He would merely have said: Pooh! Nonsense!’”
One of the economies which Adam feared his mother might practise was in the matter of Lydia’s coming-out. Lady Lynton’s disposition was not social; she had never enjoyed large parties; and it seemed probable that she would make penury an excuse for neglecting this part of her maternal duties. The thought just flickered in Adam’s mind that if he were himself married, and in affluent circumstances, his wife would be able to launch Lydia into society.
The thought vanished; he dipped his dry pen in the inkwell, and ended his letter to Lydia rather abruptly, not regaling her, as he had intended, with an account of his interview with Mr Chawleigh.
The afternoon was disagreeably enlivened by a note sent round by hand from Wimmering’s place of business. That harassed practitioner had received a disturbing communication disclosing yet another obligation incurred by the late Lord Lynton. He very much feared that it would have to be met. No documents relating to the transaction were in his possession; he wrote in haste to enquire whether the present Viscount had discovered any relevant matter amongst his father’s private papers.
Adam, realizing that persons committing suicide were not necessarily insane, set about the task of sifting, yet again, the mass of his volatile parent’s papers.
He was engaged on this labour when he received a visit from Lord Oversley.
“I have only a few minutes to spare,” Oversley said, grasping his hand, “but I felt I ought to make a push to see you, in case you should act hastily, before I’d had a chance to represent to you — You’ve seen Chawleigh, I know: he came to call on me directly afterwards. He’s taken a fancy to you: I thought he might.”
“Much obliged to him!” returned Adam. “I would I could return the compliment!”
“Ah!” said his lordship. “That’s what I was afraid of. Just as well I decided to snatch a moment to see you!”
“Good God!” exclaimed Adam. “You can’t have supposed — you of all people! — that there was the least chance I should — Why, it’s unthinkable!”
“Then I don’t scruple to tell you, Adam, that you’re not the man I took you for!” said his lordship. “I’ll also tell you that if you whistle down the wind the best chance you’ll ever have offered you to save Fontley, provide for your sisters, and bring yourself off clear of debt, I shall think so much the worse of you that I shall be glad, instead of sorry, that you’re not my son-in-law!” He saw Adam stiffen, and said in a milder tone: “I know it’s a mighty hard thing to do, and not the match anyone would have chosen for you, but the ugly truth is, boy, that you’re in the devil’s own mess! I say in all sincerity that you owe it to your name to seize any honourable chance that offers of bringing yourself about”
“Honourable?” Adam ejaculated. “Selling myself to a wealthy Cit’s daughter? Oh, no! Not myself: my title!”