During the remainder of that Monday and all the Tuesday, Lizzie’s mind was, upon the whole, averse to matrimony. She had told Miss Macnulty of her prospects, with some amount of exultation; and the poor dependent, though she knew that she must be turned out into the street, had congratulated her patroness. “The vulturess will take you in again, when she knows you’ve nowhere else to go to,” Lizzie had said, displaying indeed some accurate discernment of her aunt’s character. But after Lady Fawn’s visit she spoke of the marriage in a different tone. “Of course, my dear, I shall have to look very close after the settlement.”
“I suppose the lawyers will do that,” said Miss Macnulty.
“Yes; lawyers! That’s all very well. I know what lawyers are. I’m not going to trust any lawyer to give away my property. Of course we shall live at Portray, because his place is in Ireland, and nothing shall take me to Ireland. I told him that from the very first. But I don’t mean to give up my own income. I don’t suppose he’ll venture to suggest such a thing.” And then again she grumbled. “It’s all very well being in the Cabinet ——!”
“Is Lord Fawn in the Cabinet?” asked Miss Macnulty, who in such matters was not altogether ignorant.
“Of course he is,” said Lizzie, with an angry gesture. It may seem unjust to accuse her of being stupidly unacquainted with circumstances, and a liar at the same time; but she was both. She said that Lord Fawn was in the Cabinet because she had heard some one speak of him as not being a Cabinet Minister, and in so speaking appear to slight his political position. Lizzie did not know how much her companion knew, and Miss Macnulty did not comprehend the depth of the ignorance of her patroness. Thus the lies which Lizzie told were amazing to Miss Macnulty. To say that Lord Fawn was in the Cabinet, when all the world knew that he was an Under-Secretary! What good could a woman get from an assertion so plainly, so manifestly false? But Lizzie knew nothing of Under-Secretaries. Lord Fawn was a lord, and even commoners were in the Cabinet. “Of course he is,” said Lizzie; “but I sha’n’t have my drawing-room made a Cabinet. They sha’n’t come here.” And then again on the Tuesday evening she displayed her independence. “As for those women down at Richmond, I don’t mean to be overrun by them, I can tell you. I said I would go there, and of course I shall keep my word.”
“I think you had better go,” said Miss Macnulty.
“Of course, I shall go. I don’t want anybody to tell me where I’m to go, my dear, and where I’m not. But it’ll be about the first and the last. And as for bringing those dowdy girls out in London, it’s the last thing I shall think of doing. Indeed, I doubt whether they can afford to dress themselves.” As she went up to bed on the Tuesday evening, Miss Macnulty doubted whether the match would go on. She never believed her friend’s statements; but if spoken words might be supposed to mean anything, Lady Eustace’s words on that Tuesday betokened a strong dislike to everything appertaining to the Fawn family. She had even ridiculed Lord Fawn himself, declaring that he understood nothing about anything beyond his office.
And, in truth, Lizzie had almost made up her mind to break it off. All that she would gain did not seem to weigh down with sufficient preponderance all that she would lose. Such were her feelings on the Tuesday night. But on the Wednesday morning she received a note which threw her back violently upon the Fawn interest. The note was as follows:
“Messrs. Camperdown and Son present their compliments to Lady Eustace. They have received instructions to proceed by law for the recovery of the Eustace diamonds, now in Lady Eustace’s hands, and will feel obliged to Lady Eustace if she will communicate to them the name and address of her attorney.
“62 NEW SQUARE, 30 MAY, 186-.”
The effect of this note was to drive Lizzie back upon the Fawn interest. She was frightened about the diamonds, and was, nevertheless, almost determined not to surrender them. At any rate, in such a strait she would want assistance, either in keeping them or in giving them up. The lawyer’s letter afflicted her with a sense of weakness, and there was strength in the Fawn connection. As Lord Fawn was so poor, perhaps he would adhere to the jewels. She knew that she could not fight Mr. Camperdown with no other assistance than what Messrs. Mowbray & Mopus might give her, and therefore her heart softened toward her betrothed. “I suppose Frederic will be here today,” she said to Miss Macnulty, as they sat at breakfast together about noon. Miss Macnulty nodded. “You can have a cab, you know, if you like to go anywhere.” Miss Macnulty said she thought she would go to the National Gallery. “And you can walk back, you know,” said Lizzie.
“I can walk there and back, too,” said Miss Macnulty, in regard to whom it may be said that the last ounce would sometimes almost break the horse’s back.
“Frederic” came, and was received very graciously. Lizzie had placed Mr. Camperdown’s note on the little table behind her, beneath the Bible, so that she might put her hand upon it at once if she could make an opportunity of showing it to her future husband. “Frederic” sat himself beside her, and the intercourse for a while was such as might be looked for between two lovers of whom one was a widow and the other an Undersecretary of State from the India Office. They were loving, but discreetly amatory, talking chiefly of things material, each flattering the other, and each hinting now and again at certain little circumstances of which a more accurate knowledge seemed to be desirable. The one was conversant with things in general, but was slow; the other was quick as a lizard in turning hither and thither, but knew almost nothing. When she told Lord Fawn that the Ayrshire estate was “her own, to do what she liked with,” she did not know that he would certainly find out the truth from other sources before he married her. Indeed, she was not quite sure herself whether the statement was true or false, though she would not have made it so frequently had her idea of the truth been a fixed idea. It had all been explained to her; but there had been something about a second son, and there was no second son. Perhaps she might have a second son yet, a future little Lord Fawn, and he might inherit it. In regard to honesty, the man was superior to the woman, because his purpose was declared, and he told no lies; but the one was as mercenary as the other. It was not love that had brought Lord Fawn to Mount Street.
“What is the name of your place in Ireland?” she asked.
“There is no house, you know.”
“But there was one, Frederic?”
“The town-land where the house used to be is called Killeagent. The old demesne is called Killaud.”
“What pretty names! and — and — does it go a great many miles?” Lord Fawn explained that it did run a good many miles up into the mountains. “How beautifully romantic!” said Lizzie. “But the people live on the mountain and pay rent?”
Lord Fawn asked no such inept questions respecting the Ayrshire property, but he did inquire who was Lizzie’s solicitor. “Of course there will be things to be settled,” he said, “and my lawyer had better see yours. Mr. Camperdown is a ——”
“Mr. Camperdown!” almost shrieked Lizzie. Lord Fawn then explained, with some amazement, that Mr. Camperdown was his lawyer. As far as his belief went, there was not a more respectable gentleman in the profession. Then he inquired whether Lizzie had any objection to Mr. Camperdown. “Mr. Camperdown was Sir Florian’s lawyer,” said Lizzie.
“That will make it all the easier, I should think,” said Lord Fawn.
“I don’t know how that may be,” said Lizzie, trying to bring her mind to work upon the subject steadily. “Mr. Camperdown has been very uncourteous to me; I must say that; and, as I think, unfair. He wishes to rob me now of a thing that is quite my own.”
“What sort of a thing?” asked Lord Fawn slowly.
“A very valuable thing. I’ll tell you all about it, Frederic. Of course I’ll tell you everything now. I never could keep back anything from one that I loved. It’s not my nature. There; you might as well read that note.” Then she put her hand back and brought Mr. Camperdown’s letter from under the Bible. Lord Fawn read it very attentively, and as he read it there came upon him a great doubt. What sort of woman was this to whom he had engaged himself because she was possessed of an income? That Mr. Camperdown should be in the wrong in such a matter was an idea which never occurred to Lord Fawn. There is no form of belief stronger than that which the ordinary English gentleman has in the discretion and honesty of his own family lawyer. What his lawyer tells him to do he does. What his lawyer tells him to sign he signs. He buys and sells in obedience to the same direction, and feels perfectly comfortable in the possession of a guide who is responsible and all but divine.
“What diamonds are they?” asked Lord Fawn in a very low voice.
“They are my own — altogether my own. Sir Florian gave them to me. When he put them into my hands he said that they were to be my own for ever and ever. ‘There,’ said he, ‘those are yours to do what you choose with them.’ After that they oughtn’t to ask me to give them back, ought they? If you had been married before, and your wife had given you a keepsake, to keep for ever and ever, would you give it up to a lawyer? You would not like it, would you, Frederic?” She had put her hand on his and was looking up into his face as she asked the question. Again, perhaps, the acting was a little overdone; but there were the tears in her eyes, and the tone of her voice was perfect.
“Mr. Camperdown calls them Eustace diamonds — family diamonds,” said Lord Fawn. “What do they consist of? What are they worth?”
“I’ll show them to you,” said Lizzie, jumping up and hurrying out of the room. Lord Fawn, when he was alone, rubbed his hands over his eyes and thought about it all. It would be a very harsh measure on the part of the Eustace family and of Mr. Camperdown to demand from her the surrender of any trinket which her late husband might have given her in the manner she had described. But it was, to his thinking, most improbable that the Eustace people or the lawyer should be harsh to a widow bearing the Eustace name. The Eustaces were by disposition lavish, and old Mr. Camperdown was not one who would be strict in claiming little things for rich clients. And yet here was his letter, threatening the widow of the late baronet with legal proceedings for the recovery of jewels which had been given by Sir Florian himself to his wife as a keepsake! Perhaps Sir Florian had made some mistake, and had caused to be set in a ring or brooch for his bride some jewel which he had thought to be his own, but which had, in truth, been an heirloom. If so, the jewel should, of course, be surrendered, or replaced by one of equal value. He was making out some such solution, when Lizzie returned with the morocco case in her hand. “It was the manner in which he gave it to me,” said Lizzie, as she opened the clasp, “which makes its value to me.”
Lord Fawn knew nothing about jewels, but even he knew that if the circle of stones which he saw, with a Maltese cross appended to it, was constituted of real diamonds, the thing must be of great value. And it occurred to him at once that such a necklace is not given by a husband even to a bride in the manner described by Lizzie. A ring, or brooch, or perhaps a bracelet, a lover or a loving lord may bring in his pocket. But such an ornament as this on which Lord Fawn was now looking is given in another sort of way. He felt sure that it was so, even though he was entirely ignorant of the value of the stones. “Do you know what it is worth?” he asked.
Lizzie hesitated a moment and then remembered that “Frederic,” in his present position in regard to herself, might be glad to assist her in maintaining the possession of a substantial property. “I think they say its value is about — ten thousand pounds,” she replied.
“Ten — thousand — pounds!” Lord Fawn riveted his eyes upon them.
“That’s what I am told — by a jeweller.”
“By what jeweller?”
“A man had to come and see them, about some repairs, or something of that kind. Poor Sir Florian wished it. And he said so.”
“What was t............