The Palliser Novels (349 page)

“Nor my friend, — especially.”

“Then you wrong her. If I tell you something you must be discreet.”

“Am I not always discreet?”

“She does not love Mr. Bonteen. She has had too much of him at Matching. And as for his wife, she is quite as unwilling to be kissed by her as you can be. Her Grace is determined to fight your battle for you.”

“I want her to do nothing of the kind, Madame Goesler.”

“You will know nothing about it. We have put our heads to work, and Mr. Palliser, — that is, the new Duke, — is to be made to tell Mr. Gresham that you are to have a place. It is no good you being angry, for the thing is done. If you have enemies behind your back, you must have friends behind your back also. Lady Cantrip is to do the same thing.”

“For Heaven’s sake, not.”

“It’s all arranged. You’ll be called the ladies’ pet, but you mustn’t mind that. Lady Laura will be here before it’s arranged, and she will get hold of Mr. Erle.”

“You are laughing at me, I know.”

“Let them laugh that win. We thought of besieging Lord Fawn through Lady Chiltern, but we are not sure that anybody cares for Lord Fawn. The man we specially want now is the other Duke. We’re afraid of attacking him through the Duchess because we think that he is inhumanly indifferent to anything that his wife says to him.”

“If that kind of thing is done I shall not accept place even if it is offered me.”

“Why not? Are you going to let a man like Mr. Bonteen bowl you over? Did you ever know Lady Glen fail in anything that she attempted? She is preparing a secret with the express object of making Mr. Ratler her confidant. Lord Mount Thistle is her slave, but then I fear Lord Mount Thistle is not of much use. She’ll do anything and everything, — except flatter Mr. Bonteen.”

“Heaven forbid that anybody should do that for my sake.”

“The truth is that he made himself so disagreeable at Matching that Lady Glen is broken-hearted at finding that he is to seem to owe his promotion to her husband’s favour. Now you know all about it.”

“You have been very wrong to tell me.”

“Perhaps I have, Mr. Finn. But I thought it better that you should know that you have friends at work for you. We believe, — or rather, the Duchess believes, — that falsehoods have been used which are as disparaging to Lady Laura Kennedy as they are injurious to you, and she is determined to put it right. Some one has told Mr. Gresham that you have been the means of breaking the hearts both of Lord Brentford and Mr. Kennedy, — two members of the late Cabinet, — and he must be made to understand that this is untrue. If only for Lady Laura’s sake you must submit.”

“Lord Brentford and I are the best friends in the world.”

“And Mr. Kennedy is a madman, — absolutely in custody of his friends, as everybody knows; and yet the story has been made to work.”

“And you do not feel that all this is derogatory to me?”

Madame Goesler was silent for a moment, and then she answered boldly, “Not a whit. Why should it be derogatory? It is not done with the object of obtaining an improper appointment on behalf of an unimportant man. When falsehoods of that kind are told you can’t meet them in a straightforward way. I suppose I know with fair accuracy the sort of connection there has been between you and Lady Laura.” Phineas very much doubted whether she had any such knowledge; but he said nothing, though the lady paused a few moments for reply. “You can’t go and tell Mr. Gresham all that; nor can any friend do so on your behalf. It would be absurd.”

“Most absurd.”

“And yet it is essential to your interests that he should know it. When your enemies are undermining you, you must countermine or you’ll be blown up.”

“I’d rather fight above ground.”

“That’s all very well, but your enemies won’t stay above ground. Is that newspaper man above ground? And for a little job of clever mining, believe me, that there is not a better engineer going than Lady Glen; — not but what I’ve known her to be very nearly ‘hoist with her own petard,’” — added Madame Goesler, as she remembered a certain circumstance in their joint lives.

All that Madame Goesler said was true. A conspiracy had been formed, in the first place at the instance of Madame Goesler, but altogether by the influence of the young Duchess, for forcing upon the future Premier the necessity of admitting Phineas Finn into his Government. On the Wednesday following the conclusion of the debate, — the day on the morning of which the division was to take place, — there was no House. On the Thursday, the last day on which the House was to sit before the Easter holidays, Mr. Daubeny announced his intention of postponing the declaration of his intentions till after the adjournment. The House would meet, he said, on that day week, and then he would make his official statement. This communication he made very curtly, and in a manner that was thought by some to be almost insolent to the House. It was known that he had been grievously disappointed by the result of the debate, — not probably having expected a majority since his adversary’s strategy had been declared, but always hoping that the deserters from his own standard would be very few. The deserters had been very many, and Mr. Daubeny was majestic in his wrath.

Nothing, however, could be done till after Easter. The Ratlers of the Liberal party were very angry at the delay, declaring that it would have been much to the advantage of the country at large that the vacation week should have been used for constructing a Liberal Cabinet. This work of construction always takes time, and delays the business of the country. No one can have known better than did Mr. Daubeny how great was the injury of delay, and how advantageously the short holiday might have been used. With a majority of seventy-two against him, there could be no reason why he should not have at once resigned, and advised the Queen to send for Mr. Gresham. Nothing could be worse than his conduct. So said the Liberals, thirsting for office. Mr. Gresham himself did not open his mouth when the announcement was made; — nor did any man, marked for future office, rise to denounce the beaten statesman. But one or two independent Members expressed their great regret at the unnecessary delay which was to take place before they were informed who was to be the Minister of the Crown. But Mr. Daubeny, as soon as he had made his statement, stalked out of the House, and no reply whatever was made to the independent Members. Some few sublime and hot-headed gentlemen muttered the word “impeachment.” Others, who were more practical and less dignified, suggested that the Prime Minister “ought to have his head punched.”

It thus happened that all the world went out of town that week, — so that the Duchess of Omnium was down at Matching when Phineas called at the Duke’s house in Carlton Terrace on Friday. With what object he had called he hardly knew himself; but he thought that he intended to assure the Duchess that he was not a candidate for office, and that he must deprecate her interference. Luckily, — or unluckily, — he did not see her, and he felt that it would be impossible to convey his wishes in a letter. The whole subject was one which would have defied him to find words sufficiently discreet for his object.

The Duke and Duchess of St. Bungay were at Matching for the Easter, — as also was Barrington Erle, and also that dreadful Mr. Bonteen, from whose presence the poor Duchess of Omnium could in these days never altogether deliver herself. “Duke,” she said, “you know Mr. Finn?”

“Certainly. It was not very long ago that I was talking to him.”

“He used to be in office, you remember.”

“Oh yes; — and a very good beginner he was. Is he a friend of Your Grace’s?”

“A great friend. I’ll tell you what I want you to do. You must have some place found for him.”

“My dear Duchess, I never interfere.”

“Why, Duke, you’ve made more Cabinets than any man living.”

“I fear, indeed, that I have been at the construction of more Governments than most men. It’s forty years ago since Lord Melbourne first did me the honour of consulting me. When asked for advice, my dear, I have very often given it. It has occasionally been my duty to say that I could not myself give my slender assistance to a Ministry unless I were supported by the presence of this or that political friend. But never in my life have I asked for an appointment as a personal favour; and I am sure you won’t be angry with me if I say that I cannot begin to do so now.”

“But Mr. Finn ought to be there. He did so well before.”

“If so, let us presume that he will be there. I can only say, from what little I know of him, that I shall be happy to see him in any office to which the future Prime Minister may consider it to be his duty to appoint him.” “To think,” said the Duchess of Omnium afterwards to her friend Madame Goesler, — “to think that I should have had that stupid old woman a week in the house, and all for nothing!”

“Upon my word, Duchess,” said Barrington Erle, “I don’t know why it is, but Gresham seems to have taken a dislike to him.”

“It’s Bonteen’s doing.”

“Very probably.”

“Surely you can get the better of that?”

“I look upon Phineas Finn, Duchess, almost as a child of my own. He has come back to Parliament altogether at my instigation.”

“Then you ought to help him.”

“And so I would if I could. Remember I am not the man I used to be when dear old Mr. Mildmay reigned. The truth is, I never interfere now unless I’m asked.”

“I believe that every one of you is afraid of Mr. Gresham.”

“Perhaps we are.”

“I’ll tell you what. If he’s passed over I’ll make such a row that some of you shall hear it.”

“How fond all you women are of Phineas Finn.”

“I don’t care that for him,” said the Duchess, snapping her fingers — “more than I do, that is, for any other mere acquaintance. The man is very well, as most men are.”

“Not all.”

“No, not all. Some are as little and jealous as a girl in her tenth season. He is a decently good fellow, and he is to be thrown over, because — “

“Because of what?”

“I don’t choose to name any one. You ought to know all about it, and I do not doubt but you do. Lady Laura Kennedy is your own cousin.”

“There is not a spark of truth in all that.”

“Of course there is not; and yet he is to be punished. I know very well, Mr. Erle, that if you choose to put your shoulder to the wheel you can manage it; and I shall expect to have it managed.”

“Plantagenet,” she said the next day to her husband, “I want you to do something for me.”

“To do something! What am I to do? It’s very seldom you want anything in my line.”

“This isn’t in your line at all, and yet I want you to do it.”

“Ten to one it’s beyond my means.”

“No, it isn’t. I know you can if you like. I suppose you are all sure to be in office within ten days or a fortnight?”

“I can’t say, my dear. I have promised Mr. Gresham to be of use to him if I can.”

“Everybody knows all that. You’re going to be Privy Seal, and to work just the same as ever at those horrible two farthings.”

“And what is it you want, Glencora?”

“I want you to say that you won’t take any office unless you are allowed to bring in one or two friends with you.”

“Why should I do that? I shall not doubt any Cabinet chosen by Mr. Gresham.”

“I’m not speaking of the Cabinet; I allude to men in lower offices, lords, and Under-Secretaries, and Vice-people. You know what I mean.”

“I never interfere.”

“But you must. Other men do continually. It’s quite a common thing for a man to insist that one or two others should come in with him.”

“Yes. If a man feels that he cannot sustain his own position without support, he declines to join the Government without it. But that isn’t my case. The friends who are necessary to me in the Cabinet are the very men who will certainly be there. I would join no Government without the Duke; but — “

“Oh, the Duke — the Duke! I hate dukes — and duchesses too. I’m not talking about a duke. I want you to oblige me by making a point with Mr. Gresham that Mr. Finn shall have an office.”

“Mr. Finn!”

“Yes, Mr. Finn. I’ll explain it all if you wish it.”

“My dear Glencora, I never interfere.”

“Who does interfere? Everybody says the same. Somebody interferes, I suppose. Mr. Gresham can’t know everybody so well as to be able to fit all the pegs into all the holes without saying a word to anybody.”

“He would probably speak to Mr. Bonteen.”

“Then he would speak to a very disagreeable man, and one I’m as sick of as I ever was of any man I ever knew. If you can’t manage this for me, Plantagenet, I shall take it very ill. It’s a little thing, and I’m sure you could have it done. I don’t very often trouble you by asking for anything.”

The Duke in his quiet way was an affectionate man, and an indulgent husband. On the following morning he was closeted with Mr. Bonteen, two private Secretaries, and a leading clerk from the Treasury for four hours, during which they were endeavouring to ascertain whether the commercial world of Great Britain would be ruined or enriched if twelve pennies were declared to contain fifty farthings. The discussion had been grievously burdensome to the minds of the Duke’s assistants in it, but he himself had remembered his wife through it all. “By the way,” he said, whispering into Mr. Bonteen’s private ear as he led that gentleman away to lunch, “if we do come in — “

“Oh, we must come in.”

“If we do, I suppose something will be done for that Mr. Finn. He spoke well the other night.”

Mr. Bonteen’s face became very long. “He helped to upset the coach when he was with us before.”

“I don’t think that that is much against him.”

“Is he — a personal friend of Your Grace’s?”

“No — not particularly. I never care about such things for myself; but Lady Glencora — “

“I think the Duchess can hardly know what has been his conduct to poor Kennedy. There was a most disreputable row at a public-house in London, and I am told that he behaved — very badly.”

“I never heard a word about it,” said the Duke.

“I’ll tell you just the truth,” said Mr. Bonteen. “I’ve been asked about him, and I’ve been obliged to say that he would weaken any Government that would give him office.”