The Eustace Diamonds (74 page)

‘Tell me one thing, Major Mackintosh,' she said, as she gave
him her hand at parting – ‘they can't take away from me anything that is my own; – can they?'

‘I don't think they can' said the major, escaping rather quickly from the room.

*       *       *       

In the meantime the preparations for the great marriage went on. Mrs Carbuncle spent her time busily between Lucinda's bedchamber and the banqueting hall in Albemarle Street. In spite of pecuniary difficulties the trousseau was to be a wonder; and even Lizzie was astonished at the jewellery which that indefatigable woman had collected together for a preliminary show in Hertford Street. She had spent hours at Howell and James's,
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and had made marvellous bargains there and elsewhere. Things were sent for selection, of which the greater portion were to be
returned, but all were kept for the show. The same things which were shown to separate friends in Hertford Street as part of the trousseau on Friday and Saturday, were carried over to Albemarle Street on the Sunday, so as to add to the quasi-public exhibition of presents on the Monday. The money expended had gone very far. The mast had been made of a failing credit. Every particle of friendly generosity had been so manipulated as to add to the external magnificence. And Mrs Carbuncle had done all this without any help from Lucinda – in the midst of most contemptuous indifference on Lucinda's part. She could hardly be got to allow the milliners to fit the dresses to her body, and positively refused to thrust her feet into certain golden-heeled boots with brightly-bronzed toes, which were a great feature among the raiment. Nobody knew it except Mrs Carbuncle and the maid – even Lizzie Eustace did not know it; – but once the bride absolutely ran a muck among the finery, scattering the laces here and there, pitching the glove-boxes under the bed, chucking the golden-heeled boots into the fireplace, and exhibiting quite a tempest of fury against one of the finest shows of petticoats ever arranged with a view to the admiration and envy of female friends. But all this Mrs Carbuncle bore, and still persevered. The thing was so nearly done now that she could endure to persevere though the provocation to abandon it was so great. She had even ceased to find fault with her niece – but went on in silence counting the hours till the trouble should be taken off her own shoulders and placed on those of Sir Griffin. It was a great thing to her, almost more than she had expected, that neither Lucinda nor Sir Griffin should have positively declined the marriage. It was impossible that either should retreat from it now.

Luckily for Mrs Carbuncle Sir Griffin took delight in the show. He did this after a bearish fashion, putting his finger upon little flaws with an intelligence for which Mrs Carbuncle had not hitherto given him credit. As to certain ornaments, he observed that the silver was plated and the gold ormolu. A ‘rope' of pearls he at once detected as being false – and after fingering certain lace he turned up his nose and shook his head. Then, on the Sunday, in Albemarle Street, he pointed out to Mrs Carbuncle
sundry articles which he had seen in the bedroom on the Saturday. ‘But, my dear Sir Griffin – that's of course,' said Mrs Carbuncle. ‘Oh; – that's of course, is it?' said Sir Griffin, turning up his nose again. ‘Where did that Delph
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bowl come from?' ‘It is one of Mortlock's finest Etruscan vases,' said Mrs Carbuncle. ‘Oh – I thought that Etruscan vases came from – from somewhere in Greece or Italy,' said Sir Griffin. ‘I declare that you are shocking,' said Mrs Carbuncle, struggling to maintain her good humour.

He passed hours of the Sunday in Hertford Street, and Lord George also was there for some time. Lizzie, who could hardly devote her mind to the affairs of the wedding, remained alone in her own sitting-room during the greater part of the day; – but she did show herself while Lord George was there. ‘so I hear that Mackintosh has been here', said Lord George.

‘Yes – he was here.'

‘And what did he say?' Lizzie did not like the way in which the man looked at her, feeling it to be not only unfriendly, but absolutely cruel. It seemed to imply that he knew that her secret was about to be divulged. And what was he to her now that he should be impertinent to her? What he knew, all the world would know before the end of the week. And that other man who knew it already, had been kind to her, had said nothing about perjury, but had explained to her that what she would have to bear would be trouble, and not imprisonment and loss of money. Lord George, to whom she had been so civil, for whom she had spent money, to whom she had almost offered herself and all that she possessed – Lord George, whom she had selected as the first repository of her secret, had spoken no word to comfort her, but had made things look worse for her than they were. Why should she submit to be questioned by Lord George? In a day or two the secret which he knew would be no secret ‘Never mind what he said, Lord George' she replied.

‘Has he found it all out?'

‘You had better go and ask himself' said Lizzie. ‘I am sick of the subject, and I mean to have done with it.'

Lord George laughed, and Lizzie hated him for his laugh.

‘I declare,' said Mrs Carbuncle, ‘that you two, who were such friends, are always snapping at each other now.'

‘The fickleness is all on her ladyship's part – not on mine,' said Lord George; whereupon Lady Eustace walked out of the room and was not seen again till dinner-time.

Soon afterwards Lucinda also endeavoured to escape, but to this Sir Griffin objected. Sir Griffin was in a very good humour, and bore himself like a prosperous bridegroom. ‘Come, Luce.' he said, ‘get off your high horse for a little. Tomorrow, you know, you must come down altogether.'

‘so much the more reason for my remaining up today.'

‘I'll be shot if you shall,' said Sir Griffin. ‘Luce, sit in my lap, and give me a kiss.'

At this moment Lord George and Mrs Carbuncle were in the front drawing-room, and Lord George was telling her the true story as to the necklace. It must be explained on his behalf that in doing this he did not consider that he was betraying the trust reposed in him. ‘They know all about it in Scotland Yard,' he said; ‘I got it from Gager. They were bound to tell me, as up to this week past every man in the police thought that I had been the master-mind among the thieves. When I think of it I hardly know whether to laugh or cry.'

‘And she had them all the time?' exclaimed Mrs Carbuncle.

‘Yes; – in this house! Did you ever hear of such a little cat? I could tell you more than that. She wanted me to take them and dispose of them.'

‘No!'

‘She did though; – and now see the way she treats me! Never mind! Don't say a word to her about it till it comes out of itself. She'll have to be arrested, no doubt'

‘Arrested!' Mrs Carbuncle's further exclamations were stopped by Lucinda's struggles in the other room. She had declined to sit upon the bridegroom's lap, but had acknowledged that she was bound to submit to be kissed. He had kissed her, and then had striven to drag her on to his knee. But she was strong, and had resisted violently, and, as he afterwards said, had struck him savagely. ‘Of course I struck him,' said Lucinda.

‘By — you shall pay for it!' said Sir Griffin.

This took place in the presence of Lord George and Mrs Carbuncle, and yet they were to be married tomorrow.

‘The idea of complaining that a girl hit you – and the girl who is to be your wife!' said Lord George, as they walked off together.

‘I know what to complain of, and what not' said Sir Griffin. ‘Are you going to let me have that money?'

‘No; – I am not,' said Lord George –‘so there's an end of that.' Nevertheless they dined together at their club afterwards, and in the evening Sir Griffin was again in Hertford Street

This happened on the Sunday, on which day none of the ladies had gone to church. Mr Emilius well understood the cause of their absence, and felt nothing of a parson's anger at it. He was to marry the couple on the Monday morning, and dined with the ladies on the Sunday. He was peculiarly gracious and smiling, and spoke of the Hymeneals as though they were even more than ordinarily joyful and happy in their promise. To Lizzie he was almost affectionate, and Mrs Carbuncle he flattered to the top of her bent. The power of the man in being sprightly under such a load of trouble as oppressed the household, was wonderful. He had to do with three women who were worldly, hard, and given entirely to evil things. Even as regarded the bride, who felt the horror of her position, so much must be in truth admitted. Though from day to day and hour to hour she would openly declare her hatred of the things around her – yet she went on. Since she had entered upon life she had known nothing but falsehood and scheming wickedness; – and, though she rebelled against the consequences, she had not rebelled against the wickedness. Now to this unfortunate young woman and her two companions, Mr Emilius discoursed with an unctuous mixture of celestial and terrestrial glorification, which was proof, at any rate, of great ability on his part. He told them how a good wife was a crown,
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or rather a chaplet of aetherial roses, to her husband, and how high rank and great station in the world made such a chaplet more beautiful and more valuable. His work in the vineyard, he said, had fallen lately among the wealthy and nobly born; and though he would not say that he was entitled to take glory on
that account, still he gave thanks daily in that he had been enabled to give his humble assistance towards the running of a godly life to those who, by their example, were enabled to have so wide an effect upon their poorer fellow-creatures. He knew well how difficult it was for a camel to go through the eye of a needle. They had the highest possible authority for that. But Scripture never said that the camel – which, as he explained it, was simply a thread larger than ordinary thread – could not go through the needle's eye. The camel which succeeded, in spite of the difficulties attending its exalted position, would be peculiarly blessed. And he went on to suggest that the three ladies before him, one of whom was about to enter upon a new phase of life tomorrow, under auspices peculiarly propitious, were, all of them, camels of this description. Sir Griffin, when he came in, received for a while the peculiar attention of Mr Emilius. ‘I think, Sir Griffin' he commenced, ‘that no period of a man's life is so blessed, as that upon which you will enter tomorrow.' This he said in a whisper, but it was a whisper audible to the ladies.

‘Well; – yes; it's all right, I daresay,' said Sir Griffin.

‘Well, after all, what is life till a man has met and obtained the partner of his soul? It is a blank – and the blank becomes every day more and more intolerable to the miserable solitary.'

‘I wonder you don't get married yourself,' said Mrs Carbuncle, who perceived that Sir Griffin was rather astray for an answer.

‘Ah! – if one could always be fortunate when one loved!' said Mr Emilius, casting his eyes across to Lizzie Eustace. It was evident to them all that he did not wish to conceal his passion.

It was the object of Mrs Carbuncle that the lovers should not be left alone together, but that they should be made to think that they were passing the evening in affectionate intercourse. Lucinda hardly spoke, hardly had spoken since her disagreeable struggle with Sir Griffin. He said but little, but with Mrs Carbuncle was better humoured than usual. Every now and then she made litle whispered communications to him, telling that they would be sure to be at the church at eleven to the moment, explaining to him what would be the extent of Lucinda's boxes
for the wedding tour, assuring him that he would find Lucinda's new maid a treasure in regard to his own shirts and pocket-handkerchiefs. She toiled marvellously at little subjects, always making some allusion to Lucinda, and never hinting that aught short of Elysium was in store for him. The labour was great; the task was terrible; but now it was so nearly over! And to Lizzie she was very courteous, never hinting by a word or a look that there was any new trouble impending on the score of the diamonds. She, too, as she received the greasy compliments of Mr Emilius with pretty smiles, had her mind full enough of care.

At last Sir Griffin went, again kissing his bride as he left. Lucinda accepted his embrace without a word and almost without a shudder. ‘Eleven to the moment, Sir Griffin,' said Mrs Carbuncle, with her best good-humour. ‘All right,' said Sir Griffin as he passed out of the door. Lucinda walked across the room, and kept her eyes fixed on his retreating figure as he descended the stairs. Mr Emilius had already departed, with many promises of punctuality, and Lizzie now withdrew for the night. ‘Dear Lizzie, good night,' said Mrs Carbuncle, kissing her.

‘Good night, Lady Eustace' said Lucinda, ‘I suppose I shall see you tomorrow?'

‘See me! – Of course you will see me. I shall come into your room with the girls, after you have had your tea.' The girls mentioned were the four bridesmaids, as to whom there had been some difficulty, as Lucinda had neither sister nor cousins, and had contracted no peculiarly tender friendships. But Mrs Carbuncle had arranged it, and four properly-equipped young ladies were to be in attendance at ten on the morrow.

Then Lucinda and Mrs Carbuncle were alone. ‘Of one thing I feel sure,' said Lucinda in a low voice.

‘What is that, dear?'

‘I shall never see Sir Griffin Tewett again.'

‘You talk in that way on purpose to break me down at the last moment,' said Mrs Carbuncle.

‘Dear Aunt Jane, I would not break you down if I could help it. I have struggled so hard – simply that you might be freed
from me. We have been very foolish, both of us; but I would bear all the punishment – if I could.'

‘You know that this is nonsense now.'

‘Very well. I only tell you. I know that I shall never see him again. I will never trust myself alone in his presence. I could not do it. When he touches me my whole body is in agony. To be kissed by him is madness.'

‘Lucinda, this is very wicked. You are working yourself up to a paroxysm of folly.'

‘Wicked; – yes, I know that I am wicked. There has been enough of wickedness certainly. You don't suppose that I mean to excuse myself?'