<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></SPAN>CHAPTER XXX.</h2>
<p class="chapterhead">THE DEAN IS VERY BUSY.</p>
<p><span class="firstwords">A week</span> had passed away and nothing had as yet been heard from the
Marquis, nor had Mr. Battle's confidential clerk as yet taken his departure
for Italy, when Mrs. Montacute Jones called one day in
Munster Court. Lady George had not seen her new old friend since
the night of the ball to which she had not gone, but had received more
than one note respecting her absence on that occasion, and various
other little matters. Why did not Lady George come and lunch; and
why did not Lady George come and drive? Lady George was a little
afraid that there was a conspiracy about her in reference to Captain
De Baron, and that Mrs. Montacute Jones was one of the conspirators.
If so Adelaide Houghton was certainly another. It had been
very pleasant. When she examined herself about this man, as she
endeavoured to do, she declared that it had been as innocent as pleasant.
She did not really believe that either Adelaide Houghton or
Mrs. Montacute Jones had intended to do mischief. Mischief, such as
the alienation of her own affections from her husband, she regarded as
quite out of the question. She would not even admit to herself that
it was possible that she should fall into such a pit as that. But there
were other dangers; and those friends of hers would indeed be dangerous
if they brought her into any society that made her husband
jealous. Therefore, though she liked Mrs. Montacute Jones very
much, she had avoided the old lady lately, knowing that something
would be said about Jack De Baron, and not quite confident as to her
own answers.</p>
<p>And now Mrs. Montacute Jones had come to her. "My dear Lady
<SPAN name="tn_pg_202a"></SPAN><!-- TN: end quote added-->George," she said, "where on earth have you been? Are you going to
cut me? If so, tell me at once."<!-- Page 194 --></p>
<p>"Oh, Mrs. Jones," said Lady George, kissing her, "how can you
ask such a question?"</p>
<p>"Because you know it requires two to play at that game, and I'm
not going to be cut." Mrs. Montacute Jones was a stout built but
very short old lady, with grey hair curled in precise rolls down her
face, with streaky cheeks, giving her a look of extreme good health,
and very bright grey eyes. She was always admirably dressed, so well
dressed that her enemies accused her of spending enormous sums on
her toilet. She was very old,—some people said eighty, adding probably
not more than ten years to her age,—very enthusiastic, particularly
in reference to her friends; very fond of gaiety, and very
charitable. "Why didn't you come to my ball?"</p>
<p>"Lord George doesn't care about balls," said Mary, laughing.</p>
<p>"Come, come! Don't try and humbug me. It had been all arranged
that you should come when he went to bed. Hadn't it now?"</p>
<p>"Something had been said about it."</p>
<p>"A good deal had been said about it, and he had agreed. Are you
going to tell me that he won't go out with you, and yet dislikes your
going out without him? Is he such a Bluebeard as that?"</p>
<p>"He's not a Bluebeard at all, Mrs. Jones."</p>
<p>"I hope not. There has been something about that German
Baroness;—hasn't there?"</p>
<p>"Oh dear no."</p>
<p>"I heard that there was. She came and took you and the brougham
all about London. And there was a row with Lady Selina. I heard
of it."</p>
<p>"But that had nothing to do with my going to your party."</p>
<p>"Well, no; why should it? She's a nasty woman, that Baroness
Banmann. If we can't get on here in England without German
Baronesses and American she doctors, we are in a bad way. You
shouldn't have let them drag you into that lot. Women's rights!
Women are quite able to hold their own without such trash as that. I'm
told she's in debt everywhere, and can't pay a shilling. I hope they'll
lock her up."</p>
<p>"She is nothing to me, Mrs. Jones."</p>
<p>"I hope not. What was it then? I know there was something.
He doesn't object to Captain De Baron; does he?"</p>
<p>"Object to him! Why should he object to Captain De Baron?"</p>
<p>"I don't know why. Men do take such fancies into their heads.
You are not going to give up dancing;—are you?"</p>
<p>"Not altogether. I'm not sure that I care for it very much."</p>
<p>"Oh, Lady George; where do you expect to go to?" Mary could
not keep herself from laughing, though she was at the same time
almost inclined to be angry with the old lady's interference. "I
should have said that I didn't know a young person in the world
fonder of dancing than you are. Perhaps he objects to it."<!-- Page 195 --></p>
<p>"He doesn't like my waltzing," said Mary, with a blush. On former
occasions she had almost made up her mind to confide her troubles to
this old woman, and now the occasion seemed so suitable that she
could not keep herself from telling so much as that.</p>
<p>"Oh!" said Mrs. Montacute Jones. "That's it! I knew there
was something. My dear, he's a goose, and you ought to tell him so."</p>
<p>"Couldn't you tell him," said Mary, laughing.</p>
<p>"Would do it in half a minute, and think nothing of it!"</p>
<p>"Pray, don't. He wouldn't like it at all."</p>
<p>"My dear, you shouldn't be afraid of him. I'm not going to preach
up rebellion against husbands. I'm the last woman in London to do
that. I know the comfort of a quiet house as well as any one, and
that two people can't get along easy together unless there is a good
deal of give and take. But it doesn't do to give up everything. What
does he say about it?"</p>
<p>"He says he doesn't like it."</p>
<p>"What would he say if you told him you didn't like his going to
his club."</p>
<p>"He wouldn't go."</p>
<p>"Nonsense! It's being a dog in the manger, because he doesn't
care for it himself. I should have it out with him,—nicely and pleasantly.
Just tell him that you're fond of it, and ask him to change
his mind. I can't bear anybody interfering to put down the innocent
pleasures of young people. A man like that just opens his mouth and
speaks a word, and takes away the whole pleasure of a young woman's
season! You've got my card for the 10th of June?"</p>
<p>"Oh yes,—I've got it."</p>
<p>"And I shall expect you to come. It's only going to be a small
affair. Get him to bring you if you can, and you do as I bid you.
Just have it out with him,—nicely and quietly. Nobody hates a row
so much as I do, but people oughtn't to be trampled on."</p>
<p>All this had considerable effect upon Lady George. She quite agreed
with Mrs. Jones that people ought not to be trampled on. Her father
had never trampled on her. From him there had been very little positive
ordering as to what she might and what she might not do. And
yet she had been only a child when living with her father. Now she
was a married woman, and the mistress of her own house. She was
quite sure that were she to ask her father, the Dean would say that
such a prohibition as this was absurd. Of course she could not ask
her father. She would not appeal from her husband to him. But it
was a hardship, and she almost made up her mind that she would
request him to revoke the order.</p>
<p>Then she was very much troubled by a long letter from the Baroness
Banmann. The Baroness was going to bring an action jointly against
Lady Selina Protest and Miss Mildmay, whom the reader will know as
Aunt Ju; and informed Lady George that she was to be summoned<!-- Page 196 -->
as a witness. This was for a while a grievous affliction to her. "I
know nothing about it," she said to her husband, "I only just went
there once because Miss Mildmay asked me."</p>
<p>"It was a very foolish thing for her to do."</p>
<p>"And I was foolish, perhaps; but what can I say about it? I don't
know anything."</p>
<p>"You shouldn't have bought those other tickets."</p>
<p>"How could I refuse when the woman asked for such a trifle?"</p>
<p>"Then you took her to Miss Mildmay's."</p>
<p>"She would get into the brougham, and I couldn't get rid of her.
Hadn't I better write and tell her that I know nothing about it?" But to
this Lord George objected, requesting her altogether to hold her
peace on the subject, and never even to speak about it to anyone. He
was not good humoured with her, and this was clearly no occasion for
asking him about the waltzing. Indeed, just at present he rarely
was in a good humour, being much troubled in his mind on the great
Popenjoy question.</p>
<p>At this time the Dean was constantly up in town, running backwards
and forwards between London and Brotherton, prosecuting his
enquiry and spending a good deal of his time at Mr. Battle's offices.
In doing all this he by no means acted in perfect concert with Lord
George, nor did he often stay or even dine at the house in Munster
Court. There had been no quarrel, but he found that Lord George
was not cordial with him, and therefore placed himself at the hotel in
Suffolk Street. "Why doesn't papa come here as he is in town?"
Mary said to her husband.</p>
<p>"I don't know why he comes to town at all," replied her husband.</p>
<p>"I suppose he comes because he has business, or because he likes
it. I shouldn't think of asking why he comes; but as he is here, I
wish he wouldn't stay at a nasty dull hotel after all that was arranged."</p>
<p>"You may be sure he knows what he likes best," said Lord George
sulkily. That allusion to "an arrangement" had not served to put
him in a good humour.</p>
<p>Mary had known well why her father was so much in London, and
had in truth known also why he did not come to Munster Court. She
could perceive that her father and husband were drifting into unfriendly
relations, and greatly regretted it. In her heart she took her
father's part. She was not keen as he was in this matter of the little
Popenjoy, being restrained by a feeling that it would not become her to
be over anxious for her own elevation or for the fall of others; but
she had always sympathised with her father in everything, and therefore
she sympathised with him in this. And then there was gradually growing
upon her a conviction that her father was the stronger man of the
two, the more reasonable, and certainly the kinder. She had thoroughly
understood when the house was furnished, very much at the Dean's<!-- Page 197 -->
expense, that he was to be a joint occupant in it when it might suit
him to be in London. He himself had thought less about this, having
rather submitted to the suggestion as an excuse for his own liberality
than contemplated any such final arrangement. But Lord George remembered
it. The house would certainly be open to him should he
choose to come;—but Lord George would not press it.</p>
<p>Mr. Stokes had thought it proper to go in person to Manor Cross,
in order that he might receive instructions from the Marquis. "Upon
my word, Mr. Stokes," said the Marquis, "only that I would not
seem to be uncourteous to you I should feel disposed to say that this
interview can do no good."</p>
<p>"It is a very serious matter, my Lord."</p>
<p>"It is a very serious annoyance, certainly, that my own brother and
sisters should turn against me, and give me all this trouble because I
have chosen to marry a foreigner. It is simply an instance of that
pigheaded English blindness which makes us think that everything
outside our own country is or ought to be given up to the devil. My
sisters are very religious, and, I daresay, very good women. But they
are quite willing to think that I and my wife ought to be damned
because we talk Italian, and that my son ought to be disinherited
because he was not baptised in an English church. They have got
this stupid story into their heads, and they must do as they please
about it. I will have no hand in it. I will take care that there shall
be no difficulty in my son's way when I die."</p>
<p>"That will be right, of course, my Lord."</p>
<p>"I know where all this comes from. My brother, who is an idiot,
has married the daughter of a vulgar clergyman, who thinks in his
ignorance that he can make his grandson, if he has one, an English
nobleman. He'll spend his money and he'll burn his fingers, and I
don't care how much money he spends or how much he burns his
hands. I don't suppose his purse is so very long but that he may come
to the bottom of it." This was nearly all that passed between Mr.
Stokes and the Marquis. Mr. Stokes then went back to town and
gave Mr. Battle to understand that nothing was to be done on their
side.</p>
<p>The Dean was very anxious that the confidential clerk should be
dispatched, and at one time almost thought that he would go himself.
"Better not, Mr. Dean. Everybody would know," said Mr. Battle.</p>
<p>"And I should intend everybody to know," said the Dean. "Do
you suppose that I am doing anything that I'm ashamed of."</p>
<p>"But being a dignitary——" began Mr. Battle.</p>
<p>"What has that to do with it? A dignitary, as you call it, is not
to see his child robbed of her rights. I only want to find the truth,
and I should never take shame to myself in looking for that by honest
means." But Mr. Battle prevailed, persuading the Dean that the
confidential clerk, even though he confined himself to honest means,<!-- Page 198 -->
would reach his point more certainly than a Dean of the Church of
England.</p>
<p>But still there was delay. Mr. Stokes did not take his journey
down to Brotherton quite as quickly as he perhaps might have done,
and then there was a prolonged correspondence carried on through an
English lawyer settled at Leghorn. But at last the man was sent.
"I think we know this," said Mr. Battle to the Dean on the day
before the man started, "there were certainly two marriages. One of
them took place as much as five years ago, and the other after his
lordship had written to his brother."</p>
<p>"Then the first marriage must have been nothing," said the Dean.</p>
<p>"It does not follow. It may have been a legal marriage, although
the parties chose to confirm it by a second ceremony."</p>
<p>"But when did the man Luigi die?"</p>
<p>"And where and how? That is what we have got to find out.
I shouldn't wonder if we found that he had been for years a lunatic."</p>
<p>Almost all this the Dean communicated to Lord George, being determined
that his son-in-law should be seen to act in co-operation with
him. They met occasionally in Mr. Battle's chambers, and sometimes
by appointment in Munster Court. "It is essentially necessary
that you should know what is being done," said the Dean to his son-in-law.
Lord George fretted and fumed, and expressed an opinion
that as the matter had been put into a lawyer's hands it had better be
left there. But the Dean had very much his own way.</p>
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