<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></SPAN>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
<p class="chapterhead">LORD AND LADY GEORGE GO UP TO TOWN.</p>
<p><span class="firstwords">Time</span> went on, and the day arranged for the migration to
London came round. After much delicate fencing on one side
and the other, this was fixed for the 31st January. The fencing
took place between the Dean, acting on behalf of his daughter,
and the ladies of the Manor Cross family generally. They, though
they conceived themselves to have had many causes of displeasure
with Mary, were not the less anxious to keep her at Manor Cross.
They would all, at any moment, have gladly assented to an abandonment
of the London house, and had taught themselves to look upon
the London house as an allurement of Satan, most unwisely contrived
and countenanced by the Dean. And there was no doubt that, as the
Dean acted on behalf of his daughter, so did they act on behalf of
their brother. He could not himself oppose the London house; but
he disliked it and feared it, and now, at last, thoroughly repented
himself of it. But it had been a stipulation made at the marriage;
and the Dean's money had been spent. The Dean had been profuse
with his money, and had shown himself to be a more wealthy man
than any one at Manor Cross had suspected. Mary's fortune was no
doubt her own; but the furniture had been in a great measure supplied
by the Dean, and the Dean had paid the necessary premium on going
into the house. Lord George felt it to be impossible to change his
mind after all that had been done; but he had been quite willing to
postpone the evil day as long as possible.</p>
<p>Lady Susanna was especially full of fears, and, it must be owned,
especially inimical to all Mary's wishes. She was the one who had
perhaps been most domineering to her brother's wife, and she was
certainly the one whose domination Mary resisted with the most
settled determination. There was a self-abnegation about Lady Sarah,
a downright goodness, and at the same time an easily-handled magisterial
authority, which commanded reverence. After three months of
residence at Manor Cross, Mary was willing to acknowledge that Lady
Sarah was more than a sister-in-law,—that her nature partook of divine
omnipotence, and that it compelled respect, whether given willingly or
unwillingly. But to none of the others would her spirit thus humble
itself, and especially not to Lady Susanna. Therefore Lady Susanna
was hostile, and therefore Lady Susanna was quite sure that Mary
would fall into great trouble amidst the pleasures of the metropolis.</p>
<p>"After all," she said to her elder sister, "what is £1,500 a year to
keep up a house in London?"</p>
<p>"It will only be for a few months," said Lady Sarah.<!-- Page 67 --></p>
<p>"Of course she must have a carriage, and then George will find
himself altogether in the hands of the Dean. That is what I fear.
The Dean has done very well with himself, but he is not a man whom
I like to trust altogether."</p>
<p>"He is at any rate generous with his money."</p>
<p>"He is bound to be that, or he could not hold up his head at all.
He has nothing else to depend on. Did you hear what Dr. Pountner
said about him the other day? Since that affair with the newspaper,
he has gone down very much in the Chapter. I am sure of that."</p>
<p>"I think you are a little hard upon him, Susanna."</p>
<p>"You must feel that he is very wrong about this house in London.
Why is a man, because he's married, to be taken away from all his
own pursuits? If she could not accommodate herself to his tastes,
she should not have accepted him."</p>
<p>"Let us be just," said Lady Sarah.</p>
<p>"Certainly, let us be just," said Lady Amelia, who in these conversations
seldom took much part, unless when called upon to support
her eldest sister.</p>
<p>"Of course we should be just," said Lady Susanna.</p>
<p>"She did not accept him," said Lady Sarah, "till he had agreed to
comply with the Dean's wish that they should spend part of their time
in London."</p>
<p>"He was very weak," said Lady Susanna.</p>
<p>"I wish it could have been otherwise," continued Lady Sarah;
"but we can hardly suppose that the tastes of a young girl from
Brotherton should be the same as ours. I can understand that Mary
should find Manor Cross dull."</p>
<p>"Dull!" exclaimed Lady Susanna.</p>
<p>"Dull!" ejaculated Lady Amelia, constrained on this occasion to
differ even from her eldest sister. "I can't understand that she
should find Manor Cross dull, particularly while she has her husband
with her."</p>
<p>"The bargain, at any rate, was made," said Lady Sarah, "before
the engagement was settled; and as the money is hers, I do not think
we have a right to complain. I am very sorry that it should be so.
Her character is very far from being formed, and his tastes are so
completely fixed that nothing will change them."</p>
<p>"And then there's that Mrs. Houghton!" said Lady Susanna.
Mrs. Houghton had of course left Manor Cross long since; but she
had left a most unsatisfactory feeling behind her in the minds of all
the Manor Cross ladies. This arose not only from their personal dislike,
but from a suspicion, a most agonising suspicion, that their
brother was more fond than he should have been of the lady's society.
It must be understood that Mary herself knew nothing of this, and
was altogether free from such suspicion. But the three sisters, and
the Marchioness under their tuition, had decided that it would be<!-- Page 68 -->
very much better that Lord George should see no more of Mrs.
Houghton. He was not, they thought, infatuated in such a fashion
that he would run to London after her; but, when in London, he
would certainly be thrown into her society. "I cannot bear to think
of it," continued Lady Susanna. Lady Amelia shook her head. "I
think, Sarah, you ought to speak to him seriously. No man has higher
ideas of duty than he has; and if he be made to think of it, he will
avoid her."</p>
<p>"I have spoken," replied Lady Sarah, almost in a whisper.</p>
<p>"Well!"</p>
<p>"Well!"</p>
<p>"Was he angry?"</p>
<p>"How did he bear it?"</p>
<p>"He was not angry, but he did not bear it very well. He told me
that he certainly found her to be attractive, but that he thought he
had power enough to keep himself free from any such fault as that.
I asked him to promise me not to see her; but he declined to make a
promise which he said he might not be able to keep."</p>
<p>"She is a horrid woman, and Mary. I am afraid, likes her," said
Lady Susanna. "I know that evil will come of it."</p>
<p>Sundry scenes counter to this were enacted at the deanery. Mary
was in the habit of getting herself taken over to Brotherton more
frequently than the ladies liked; but it was impossible that they
should openly oppose her visits to her father. On one occasion, early
in January, she had got her husband to ride over with her, and
was closeted with the Dean while he was away in the city. "Papa,"
she said, "I almost think that I'll give up the house in Munster
Court."</p>
<p>"Give it up! Look here, Mary; you'll have no happiness in life
unless you can make up your mind not to allow those old ladies at
Manor Cross to sit upon you."</p>
<p>"It is not for their sake. He does not like it, and I would do anything
for him."</p>
<p>"That is all very well; and I would be the last to advise you to
oppose his wishes if I did not see that the effect would be to make
him subject to his sisters' dominion as well as you. Would you like
him to be always under their thumb?"</p>
<p>"No, papa; I shouldn't like that."</p>
<p>"It was because I foresaw all this that I stipulated so expressly as
I did that you should have a house of your own. Every woman, when
she marries, should be emancipated from other domestic control than
that of her husband. From the nature of Lord George's family this
would have been impossible at Manor Cross, and therefore I insisted
on a house in town. I could do this the more freely because the
wherewithal was to come from us, and not from them. Do not disturb
what I have done."<!-- Page 69 --></p>
<p>"I will not go against you, of course, papa."</p>
<p>"And remember always that this is to be done as much for his
sake as for yours. His position has been very peculiar. He has no
property of his own, and he has lived there with his mother and
sisters till the feminine influences of the house have almost domineered
him. It is your duty to assist in freeing him from this." Looking at
the matter in the light now presented to her, Mary began to think
that her father was right. "With a husband there should at any rate
be only one feminine influence," he added, laughing.</p>
<p>"I shall not over rule him, and I shall not try," said Mary, smiling.</p>
<p>"At any rate, do not let other women rule him. By degrees he
will learn to enjoy London society, and so will you. You will spend
half the year at Manor Cross or the deanery, and by degrees both he
and you will be emancipated. For myself, I can conceive nothing
more melancholy than would be his slavery and yours if you were to
live throughout the year with those old women." Then, too, he said
something to her of the satisfaction which she herself would receive
from living in London, and told her that, for her, life itself had hardly
as yet been commenced. She received her lessons with thankfulness
and gratitude, but with something of wonder that he should so openly
recommend to her a manner of life which she had hitherto been taught
to regard as worldly.</p>
<p>After that no further hint was given to her that the house in London
might yet be abandoned. When riding back with her husband, she
had been clever enough to speak of the thing as a fixed certainty;
and he had then known that he also must regard it as fixed. "You
had better not say anything more about it," he said one day almost
angrily to Lady Susanna, and then nothing more had been said about
it—to him.</p>
<p>There were other causes of confusion,—of terrible confusion,—at
Manor Cross, of confusion so great that from day to day the Marchioness
would declare herself unable to go through the troubles
before her. The workmen were already in the big house preparing
for the demolition and reconstruction of everything as soon as she
should be gone; and other workmen were already demolishing and
reconstructing Cross Hall. The sadness of all this and the weight on
the old lady's mind were increased by the fact that no member of the
family had received so much even as a message from the Marquis
himself since it had been decided that his wishes should not be
obeyed. Over and over again the dowager attempted to give way,
and suggested that they should all depart and be out of sight. It
seemed to her that when a marquis is a marquis he ought to have his
own way, though it be never so unreasonable. Was he not the head
of the family? But Lady Sarah was resolved, and carried her point.
Were they all to be pitched down in some strange corner, where they
would be no better than other women, incapable of doing good or<!-- Page 70 -->
exercising influence, by the wish of one man who had never done any
good anywhere, or used his own influence legitimately? Lady Sarah
was no coward, and Lady Sarah stuck to Cross Hall, though in doing so
she had very much to endure. "I won't go out, my Lady," said Price,
"not till the day when her Ladyship is ready to come in. I can put
up with things, and I'll see as all is done as your Ladyship wishes."
Price, though he was a sporting farmer, and though men were in
the habit of drinking cherry brandy at his house, and though naughty
things had been said about him, had in these days become Lady
Sarah's prime minister at Cross Hall, and was quite prepared in that
capacity to carry on war against the Marquis.</p>
<p>When the day came for the departure of Mary and her husband,
a melancholy feeling pervaded the whole household. A cook had been
sent up from Brotherton who had lived at Manor Cross many years
previously. Lord George took a man who had waited on himself lately
at the old house, and Mary had her own maid who had come with
her when she married. They had therefore been forced to look for
but one strange servant. But this made the feeling the stronger that
they would all be strange up in London. This was so strong with
Lord George that it almost amounted to fear. He knew that he did
not know how to live in London. He belonged to the Carlton, as
became a conservative nobleman; but he very rarely entered it, and
never felt himself at home when he was there. And Mary, though she
had been quite resolved since the conversation with her father that
she would be firm about her house, still was not without her own
dread. She herself had no personal friends in town,—not one but
Mrs. Houghton, as to whom she heard nothing but evil words from
the ladies around her. There had been an attempt made to get one of
the sisters to go up with them for the first month. Lady Sarah had
positively refused, almost with indignation. Was it to be supposed that
she would desert her mother at so trying a time? Lady Amelia was then
asked, and with many regrets declined the invitation. She had not
dared to use her own judgment, and Lady Sarah had not cordially
advised her to go. Lady Sarah had thought that Lady Susanna
would be the most useful. But Lady Susanna was not asked. There
were a few words on the subject between Lord George and his wife.
Mary, remembering her father's advice, had determined that she
would not be sat upon, and had whispered to her husband that
Susanna was always severe to her. When, therefore, the time
came, they departed from Manor Cross without any protecting
spirit.</p>
<p>There was something sad in this, even to Mary. She knew that
she was taking her husband away from the life he liked, and that she,
herself, was going to a life as to which she could not even guess,
whether she would like it or not. But she had the satisfaction of
feeling that she was at last going to begin to live as a married woman.<!-- Page 71 -->
Hitherto she had been treated as a child. If there was danger, there
was, at any rate, the excitement which danger produces. "I am
almost glad that we are going alone, George," she said. "It seems
to me that we have never been alone yet."</p>
<p>He wished to be gracious and loving to her, and yet he was not
disposed to admit anything which might seem to imply that he had
become tired of living with his own family. "It is very nice,
but——"</p>
<p>"But what, dear?"</p>
<p>"Of course I am anxious about my mother just at present."</p>
<p>"She is not to move for two months yet."</p>
<p>"No,—not to move; but there are so many things to be done."</p>
<p>"You can run down whenever you please?"</p>
<p>"That's expensive; but of course it must be done."</p>
<p>"Say that you'll like being with me alone." They had the compartment
of the railway carriage all to themselves, and she, as she
spoke, leaned against him, inviting him to caress her. "You
don't think it a trouble, do you, having to come and live with
me?" Of course he was conquered, and said, after his nature, what
prettiest things he could to her, assuring her that he would sooner live
with her than with any one in the world, and promising that he would
always endeavour to make her happy. She knew that he was doing
his best to be a loving husband, and she felt, therefore, that she was
bound to be loyal in her endeavours to love him; but at the same
time, at the very moment in which she was receiving his words with
outward show of satisfied love, her imagination was picturing to her
something else which would have been so immeasurably superior, if
only it had been possible.</p>
<p>That evening they dined together, alone; and it was the first time
that they had ever done so, except at an inn. Never before had been
imposed on her the duty of seeing that his dinner was prepared for
him. There certainly was very little of duty to perform in the matter,
for he was a man indifferent as to what he ate, or what he drank.
The plainness of the table at Manor Cross had surprised Mary, after
the comparative luxury of the deanery. All her lessons at Manor
Cross had gone to show that eating was not a delectation to be held in
high esteem. But still she was careful that everything around him
should be nice. The furniture was new, the glasses and crockery
were new. Few, if any, of the articles used, had ever been handled
before. All her bridal presents were there; and no doubt there was
present to her mind the fact that everything in the house had in
truth been given to him by her. If only she could make the things
pleasant! If only he would allow himself to be taught that nice
things are nice! She hovered around him, touching him every now
and then with her light fingers, moving a lock of his hair, and then
stooping over him and kissing his brow. It might still be that she<!-- Page 72 -->
would be able to galvanise him into that lover's vitality, of which she
had dreamed. He never rebuffed her; he did not scorn her kisses,
or fail to smile when his hair was moved; he answered every word
she spoke to him carefully and courteously; he admired her pretty
things when called upon to admire them. But through it all, she was
quite aware that she had not galvanised him as yet.</p>
<p>Of course there were books. Every proper preparation had been
made for rendering the little house pleasant. In the evening she took
from her shelf a delicate little volume of poetry, something exquisitely
bound, pretty to look at, and sweet to handle, and settled herself
down to be happy in her own drawing-room. But she soon looked up
from the troubles of Aurora Leigh to see what her husband was doing.
He was comfortable in his chair, but was busy with the columns of the
Brothershire Herald.</p>
<p>"Dear me, George, have you brought that musty old paper up
here?"</p>
<p>"Why shouldn't I read the Herald here, as well as at Manor
Cross?"</p>
<p>"Oh! yes, if you like it."</p>
<p>"Of course I want to know what is being done in the county."
But when next she looked, the county had certainly faded from his
mind, for he was fast asleep.</p>
<p>On that occasion she did not care very much for Aurora Leigh.
Her mind was hardly tuned to poetry of that sort. The things around
her were too important to allow her mind to indulge itself with
foreign cares. And then she found herself looking at the watch.
At Manor Cross ten o'clock every night brought all the servants into
the drawing-room. First the butler would come and place the chairs,
and then the maids, and then the coachman and footman would follow.
Lord George read the prayers, and Mary had always thought them to
be very tiring. But she now felt that it would almost be a relief if
the butler would come in and place the chairs.</p>
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