Framley Parsonage (11 page)

‘Why didn’t thee leave it, mon, with Mr Applejohn at the Court?’ Mr Applejohn was the butler who took the letter-bag. ‘Thee know’st as how missus was there.’

And then Robin, mindful of the tea and toast, explained to her courteously how the law made it imperative
on him to bring the letter to the very house that was indicated, let the owner of the letter be where she might; and he laid down the law very satisfactorily with sundry long-worded quotations. Not to much effect, however, for the housemaid called him an oaf; and Robin would decidedly have had the worst of it had not the gardener come in and taken his part. ‘They women knows nothin’, and understands
nothin’,’ said the gardener. ‘Give us hold of the letter. I’ll take it up to the house. It’s the master’s fist.’ And then Robin postman went on one way, and the gardener, he went the other. The gardener never disliked an excuse for going up to the Court gardens, even on so wet a day as this.

Mrs Robarts was sitting over the drawing-room fire with Lady Meredith, when her husband’s letter was brought
to her. The
Framley Court letter-bag had been discussed at breakfast; but that was now nearly an hour since, and Lady Lufton, as was her wont, was away in her own room writing her own letters, and looking after her own matters: for Lady Lufton was a person who dealt in figures herself, and understood business almost as well as Harold Smith. And on that morning she also had received a letter which
had displeased her not a little. Whence arose this displeasure neither Mrs Robarts nor Lady Meredith knew; but her ladyship’s brow had grown black at breakfast-time; she had bundled up an ominous-looking epistle into her bag without speaking of it, and had left the room immediately that breakfast was over.

‘There’s something wrong,’ said Sir George.

‘Mamma does fret herself so much about Ludovic’s
money matters,’ said Lady Meredith. Ludovic was Lord Lufton, – Ludovic Lufton, Baron Lufton of Lufton, in the county of Oxfordshire.

‘And yet I don’t think Lufton gets much astray,’ said Sir George, as he sauntered out of the room. ‘Well, Justy; we’ll put off going then till to-morrow; but remember, it must be the first train.’ Lady Meredith said she would remember, and then they went into the
drawing-room, and there Mrs Robarts received her letter.

Fanny, when she read it, hardly at first realized to herself the idea that her husband, the clergyman of Framley, the family clerical friend of Lady Lufton’s establishment, was going to stay with the Duke of Omnium. It was so thoroughly understood at Framley Court that the duke and all belonging to him was noxious and damnable. He was a
Whig, he was a bachelor, he was a gambler, he was immoral in every way, he was a man of no Church principle, a corrupter of youth, a sworn foe of young wives, a swallower up of small men’s patrimonies; a man whom mothers feared for their sons, and sisters for their brothers; and worse again, whom fathers had cause to fear for their daughters, and brothers for their sisters; – a man who, with his
belongings, dwelt, and must dwell, poles asunder from Lady Lufton and her belongings!

And it must be remembered that all these evil things were fully believed by Mrs Robarts. Could it really be that her husband was going to dwell in the halls of Apollyon, to shelter himself beneath the wings of this very Lucifer? A cloud of sorrow settled upon
her face, and then she read the letter again very
slowly, not omitting the tell-tale postscript.

‘Oh, Justinia!’ at last she said.

‘What, have you got bad news, too?’

‘I hardly know how to tell you what has occurred. There; I suppose you had better read it;’ and she handed her husband’s epistle to Lady Meredith, – keeping back, however, the postscript.

‘What on earth will her ladyship say now?’ said Lady Meredith, as she folded the paper,
and replaced it in the envelope.

‘What had I better do, Justinia? how had I better tell her?’ And then the two ladies put their heads together, bethinking themselves how they might best deprecate the wrath of Lady Lufton. It had been arranged that Mrs Robarts should go back to the parsonage after lunch, and she had persisted in her intention after it had been settled that the Merediths were to
stay over that evening. Lady Meredith now advised her friend to carry out this determination without saying anything about her husband’s terrible iniquities, and then to send the letter up to Lady Lufton as soon as she reached the parsonage. ‘Mamma will never know that you received it here,’ said Lady Meredith.

But Mrs Robarts would not consent to this. Such a course seemed to her to be cowardly.
She knew that her husband was doing wrong; she felt that he knew it himself; but still it was necessary that she should defend him. However terrible might be the storm, it must break upon her own head. So she at once went up and tapped at Lady Lufton’s private door; and as she did so Lady Meredith followed her.

‘Come in,’ said Lady Lufton, and the voice did not sound soft and pleasant. When they
entered, they found her sitting at her little writing table, with her head resting on her arm, and that letter which she had received that morning was lying open on the table before her. Indeed there were two letters now there, one from a London lawyer to herself, and the other from her son to that London lawyer. It needs only be explained that the subject of those letters was the immediate sale
of that outlying portion of the Lufton property in Oxfordshire, as to which Mr Sowerby once spoke. Lord Lufton had told the lawyer that the thing must be done at once, adding that his friend Robarts would have explained the
whole affair to his mother. And then the lawyer had written to Lady Lufton, as indeed was necessary; but unfortunately Lady Lufton had not hitherto heard a word of the matter.

In her eyes, the sale of family property was horrible; the fact that a young man with some fifteen or twenty thousand a year should require subsidiary money was horrible; that her own son should have not written to her himself was horrible; and it was also horrible that her own pet, the clergyman whom she had brought there to be her son’s friend, should be mixed up in the matter, – should be cognizant
of it while she was not cognizant, – should be employed in it as a go-between and agent in her son’s bad courses. It was all horrible, and Lady Lufton was sitting there with a black brow and an uneasy heart. As regarded our poor parson, we may say that in this matter he was blameless, except that he had hitherto lacked the courage to execute his friend’s commission.

‘What is it, Fanny?’ said
Lady Lufton as soon as the door was opened; ‘I should have been down in half-an-hour, if you wanted me, Justinia.’

‘Fanny has received a letter which makes her wish to speak to you at once,’ said Lady Meredith.

‘What letter, Fanny?’

Poor Fanny’s heart was in her mouth; she held it in her hand, but had not yet quite made up her mind whether she would show it bodily to Lady Lufton.

‘From Mr
Robarts,’ she said.

‘Well; I suppose he is going to stay another week at Chaldicotes. For my part I should be as well pleased;’ and Lady Lufton’s voice was not friendly, for she was thinking of that farm in Oxfordshire. The imprudence of the young is very sore to the prudence of their elders. No woman could be less covetous, less grasping than Lady Lufton; but the sale of a portion of the old
family property was to her as the loss of her own heart’s blood.

‘Here is the letter, Lady Lufton; perhaps you had better read it;’ and Fanny handed it to her, again keeping back the postscript. She had read and re-read the letter downstairs, but could not make out whether her husband had intended her to show it. From the line of the argument she thought that he must have done
so. At any rate
he said for himself more than she could say for him, and so, probably, it was best that her ladyship should see it.

Lady Lufton took it, and read it, and her face grew blacker and blacker. Her mind was set against the writer before she began it, and every word in it tended to make her feel more estranged from him. ‘Oh, he is going to the palace, is he – well; he must choose his own friends. Harold
Smith one of his party! It’s a pity, my dear, he did not see Miss Proudie before he met you, he might have lived to be the bishop’s chaplain. Gatherum Castle! You don’t mean to tell me that he is going there? Then I tell you fairly, Fanny, that I have done with him.’

‘Oh, Lady Lufton, don’t say that,’ said Mrs Robarts, with tears in her eyes.

‘Mamma, mamma, don’t speak in that way,’ said Lady
Meredith.

‘But my dear, what am I to say? I must speak in that way. You would not wish me to speak falsehoods, would you? A man must choose for himself, but he can’t live with two different sets of people; at least, not if I belong to one and the Duke of Omnium to the other. The bishop going indeed! If there be anything that I hate it is hypocrisy.’

‘There is no hypocrisy in that, Lady Lufton.’

‘But I say there is, Fanny. Very strange indeed! “Put off his defence!” Why should a man need any defence to his wife if he acts in a straightforward way? His own language condemns him; “Wrong to stand out!” Now, will either of you tell me that Mr Robarts would really have thought it wrong to refuse that invitation? I say that that is hypocrisy. There is no other word for it.’

By this time the
poor wife, who had been in tears, was wiping them away and preparing for action. Lady Lufton’s extreme severity gave her courage. She knew that it behoved her to fight for her husband when he was thus attacked. Had Lady Lufton been moderate in her remarks Mrs Robarts would not have had a word to say.

‘My husband may have been ill-judged,’ she said, ‘but he is no hypocrite.’

‘Very well, my dear,
I daresay you know better than I; but to me it looks extremely like hypocrisy: eh, Justinia?’

‘Oh, mamma, do be moderate.’

‘Moderate! That’s all very well. How is one to moderate one’s feelings when one has been betrayed?’

‘You do not mean that Mr Robarts has betrayed you?’ said the wife.

‘Oh, no; of course not.’ And then she went on reading the letter: ’ “Seem to have been standing in judgment
upon the duke.” Might he not use the same argument as to going into any house in the kingdom, however infamous? We must all stand in judgment one upon another in that sense. “Crawley!” Yes; if he were a little more like Mr Crawley it would be a good thing for me, and for the parish, and for you too, my dear. God forgive me for bringing him here; that’s all.’

‘Lady Lufton, I must say that you
are very hard upon him – very hard. I did not expect it from such a friend.’

‘My dear, you ought to know me well enough to be sure that I shall speak my mind. “Written to Jones” – yes; it is easy enough to write to poor Jones. He had better write to Jones, and bid him do the whole duty. Then he can go and be the duke’s domestic chaplain.’

‘I believe my husband does as much of his own duty as
any clergyman in the whole diocese,’ said Mrs Robarts, now again in tears.

‘And you are to take his work in the school; you and Mrs Podgens. What with his curate and his wife and Mrs Podgens, I don’t see why he should come back at all.’

‘Oh, mamma,’ said Justinia, ‘pray, pray don’t be so harsh to her.’

‘Let me finish it, my dear, – oh, here I come. “Tell her ladyship my whereabouts.” He little
thought you’d show me this letter.’

‘Didn’t he?’ said Mrs Robarts, putting out her hand to get it back, but in vain. ‘I thought it was for the best; I did indeed.’

‘I had better finish it now, if you please. What is this? How does he dare send his ribald jokes to me in such a matter? No, I do not suppose I ever shall like Dr Proudie; I have never expected it. A matter of conscience with him!
Well – well, well. Had I not read it myself, I could not have believed it of him; I would not positively have believed it. “Coming from my parish he could not go to the Duke of Omnium!” And it is what I would wish to have
said. People fit for this parish should not be fit for the Duke of Omnium’s house. And I had trusted that he would have this feeling more strongly than any one else in it. I
have been deceived – that’s all.’

‘He has done nothing to deceive you, Lady Lufton.’

‘I hope he will not have deceived you, my dear. “More money;” yes, it is probable that he will want more money. There is your letter, Fanny. I am very sorry for it. I can say nothing more.’ And she folded up the letter and gave it back to Mrs Robarts.

‘I thought it right to show it you,’ said Mrs Robarts.

‘It did not much matter whether you did or no; of course I must have been told.’

‘He especially begs me to tell you.’

‘Why, yes; he could not very well have kept me in the dark in such a matter. He could not neglect his own work, and go and live with gamblers and adulterers at the Duke of Omnium’s without my knowing it.’

And now Fanny Robarts’ cup was full, full to the overflowing. When she
heard these words she forgot all about Lady Lufton, all about Lady Meredith, and remembered only her husband, – that he was her husband, and, in spite of his faults, a good and loving husband; – and that other fact also she remembered, that she was his wife.

‘Lady Lufton,’ she said, ‘you forget yourself in speaking in that way of my husband.’

‘What!’ said her ladyship; ‘you are to show me such
a letter as that, and I am not to tell you what I think?’

‘Not if you think such hard things as that. Even you are not justified in speaking to me in that way, and I will not hear it.’

‘Heighty-tighty,’ said her ladyship.

‘Whether or no he is right in going to the Duke of Omnium’s, I will not pretend to judge. He is the judge of his own actions, and neither you nor I.’

‘And when he leaves
you with the butcher’s bill unpaid and no money to buy shoes for the children, who will be the judge then?’

‘Not you, Lady Lufton. If such bad days should ever come – and neither you nor I have a right to expect them – I will not come to you in my troubles; not after this.’

‘Very well, my dear. You may go to the Duke of Omnium if that suits you better.’

‘Fanny, come away,’ said Lady Meredith.
‘Why should you try to anger my mother?’