The Absentee

M >> Maria Edgeworth >> The Absentee


Mordicai, waiting till the laugh was over, dryly observed that 'the law
is executed in another guess sort of way in England from what it is in
Ireland'; therefore, for his part, he desired nothing better than to set
his wits fairly against such SHARKS. That there was a pleasure in doing
up a debtor which none but a creditor could know.

'In a moment, sir; if you'll have a moment's patience, sir, if you
please,' said the slow foreman to Lord Colambre; 'I must go down the
pounds once more, and then I'll let you have it.'

'I'll tell you what, Smithfield,' continued Mr. Mordicai, coming close
beside his foreman, and speaking very low, but with a voice trembling
with anger, for he was piqued by his foreman's doubts of his capacity
to cope with Sir Terence O'Fay; 'I'll tell you what, Smithfield, I'll be
cursed, if I don't get every inch of them into my power. You know how?'

'You are the best judge, sir,' replied the foreman; 'but I would not
undertake Sir Terence; and the question is, whether the estate will
answer the LOT of the debts, and whether you know them all for certain?'

'I do, sir, I tell you. There's Green there's Blancham--there's
Gray--there's Soho--naming several more--and, to my knowledge, Lord
Clonbrony--'

'Stop, sir,' cried Lord Colambre in a voice which made Mordicai, and
everybody present, start--'I am his son--'

'The devil!' said Mordicai.

'God bless every bone in his body, then! he's an Irishman,' cried Paddy;
'and there was the RASON my heart warmed to him from the first minute he
come into the yard, though I did not know it till now.'

'What, sir! are you my Lord Colambre?' said Mr. Mordicai, recovering,
but not clearly recovering, his intellects. 'I beg pardon, but I did not
know you WAS Lord Colambre. I thought you told me you was the friend of
Mr. Berryl.'

'I do not see the incompatibility of the assertion, sir,' replied Lord
Colambre, taking from the bewildered foreman's unresisting hand the
account, which he had been so long FURNISHING.

'Give me leave, my lord,' said Mordicai. 'I beg your pardon, my lord,
perhaps we can compromise that business for your friend Mr. Berryl;
since he is your lordship's friend, perhaps we can contrive to
COMPROMISE and SPLIT THE DIFFERENCE.'

TO COMPROMISE and SPLIT THE DIFFERENCE, Mordicai thought were favourite
phrases, and approved Hibernian modes of doing business, which would
conciliate this young Irish nobleman, and dissipate the proud tempest
which had gathered and now swelled in his breast.

'No, sir, no!' cried Lord Colambre, holding firm the paper. 'I want no
favour from you. I will accept of none for my friend or for myself.'

'Favour! No, my lord, I should not presume to offer--But I should wish,
if you'll allow me, to do your friend justice.'

Lord Colambre recollecting that he had no right, in his pride, to ding
away his friend's money, let Mr. Mordicai look at the account; and, his
impetuous temper in a few moments recovered by good sense, he considered
that, as his person was utterly unknown to Mr. Mordicai, no offence
could have been intended to him, and that, perhaps, in what had been
said of his father's debts and distress, there might be more truth than
he was aware of. Prudently, therefore, controlling his feelings, and
commanding himself, he suffered Mr. Mordicai to show him into a parlour,
to SETTLE his friend's business. In a few minutes the account was
reduced to a reasonable form, and, in consideration of the partner's
having made the bargain, by which Mr. Mordicai felt himself influenced
in honour, though not bound in law, he undertook to have the curricle
made better than new again, for Mr. Berryl, for twenty guineas. Then
came awkward apologies to Lord Colambre, which he ill endured. 'Between
ourselves, my lord,' continued Mordicai--

But the familiarity of the phrase, 'Between ourselves'--this implication
of equality--Lord Colambre could not admit; he moved hastily towards the
door and departed.



CHAPTER II

Full of what he had heard, and impatient to obtain further information
respecting the state of his father's affairs, Lord Colambre hastened
home; but his father was out, and his mother was engaged with Mr. Soho,
directing, or rather being directed, how her apartments should be fitted
up for her gala. As Lord Colambre entered the room, he saw his mother,
Miss Nugent, and Mr. Soho, standing at a large table, which was covered
with rolls of paper, patterns, and drawings of furniture: Mr. Soho was
speaking in a conceited dictatorial tone, asserting that there was no
'colour in nature for that room equal to THE BELLY-O'-THE FAWN;' which
BELLY-O'-THE FAWN he so pronounced that Lady Clonbrony understood it to
be LA BELLE UNIFORME, and, under this mistake, repeated and assented to
the assertion till it was set to rights, with condescending superiority,
by the upholsterer. This first architectural upholsterer of the age, as
he styled himself, and was universally admitted to be by all the world
of fashion, then, with full powers given to him, spoke EN MAITRE. The
whole face of things must be changed--there must be new hangings, new
draperies, new cornices, new candelabras, new everything!

The upholsterer's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Glances from ceiling to
floor, from floor to ceiling; And, as imagination bodies forth The form
of things unknown, th' upholsterer's pencil Turns to shape and gives to
airy nothing A local habitation and a NAME.

Of the value of a NAME no one could be more sensible than Mr. Soho.

'Your la'ship sees--this is merely a scratch of my pencil--your
la'ship's sensible--just to give you an idea of the shape, the form
of the thing. You fill up your angles here with ECOINIERES--round your
walls with the TURKISH TENT DRAPERY--a fancy of my own--in apricot
cloth, or crimson velvet, suppose, or EN FLUTE, in crimson satin
draperies, fanned and riched with gold fringes, EN SUITE--intermediate
spaces, Apollo's heads with gold rays--and here, ma'am, you place four
CHANCELIERES, with chimeras at the corners, covered with blue silk and
silver fringe, elegantly fanciful--with my STATIRA CANOPY here--light
blue silk draperies--aerial tint, with silver balls--and for
seats here, the SERAGLIO OTTOMANS, superfine scarlet--your
paws--griffin--golden--and golden tripods, here, with antique
cranes--and oriental alabaster tables here and there--quite appropriate,
your la'ship feels.

'And--let me reflect. For the next apartment, it strikes me--as your
la'ship don't value expense--THE ALHAMBRA HANGINGS--my own thought
entirely. Now, before I unroll them, Lady Clonbrony, I must beg you'll
not mention I've shown them. I give you my sacred honour, not a soul has
set eye upon the Alhambra hangings, except Mrs. Dareville, who stole
a peep; I refused, absolutely refused, the Duchess of Torcaster--but I
can't refuse your la'ship. So see, ma'am--(unrolling them)--scagliola
porphyry columns supporting the grand dome--entablature, silvered and
decorated with imitative bronze ornaments; under the entablature, A
VALANCE IN PELMETS, of puffed scarlet silk, would have an unparalleled
grand effect, seen through the arches--with the TREBISOND TRELLICE
PAPER, would make a TOUT ENSEMBLE, novel beyond example. On that
Trebisond trellice paper, I confess, ladies, I do pique myself.

'Then, for the little room, I recommend turning it temporarily into
a Chinese pagoda, with this CHINESE PAGODA PAPER, with the PORCELAIN
border, and josses, and jars, and beakers to match; and I can venture
to promise one vase of pre-eminent size and beauty. Oh, indubitably! if
your la'ship prefers it, you can have the EGYPTIAN HIEROGLYPHIC PAPER,
with the IBIS BORDER to match! The only objection is, one sees it
everywhere--quite antediluvian--gone to the hotels even; but, to be
sure, if your la'ship has a fancy--At all events, I humbly recommend,
what her Grace of Torcaster longs to patronise, my MOON CURTAINS,
with candlelight draperies. A demisaison elegance this--I hit off
yesterday--and--true, your la'ship's quite correct--out of the common,
completely. And, of course, you'd have the SPHYNX CANDELABRAS, and the
Phoenix argands. Oh! nothing else lights now, ma'am! Expense! Expense of
the whole! Impossible to calculate here on the spot!--but nothing at all
worth your ladyship's consideration!'

At another moment, Lord Colambre might have been amused with all this
rhodomontade, and with the airs and voluble conceit of the orator; but,
after what he had heard at Mr. Mordicai's, this whole scene struck him
more with melancholy than with mirth. He was alarmed by the prospect of
new and unbounded expense; provoked, almost past enduring, by the jargon
and impertinence of this upholsterer; mortified and vexed to the heart
to see his mother the dupe, the sport of such a coxcomb.

'Prince of puppies!--insufferable!--My own mother!' Lord Colambre
repeated to himself, as he walked hastily up and down the room.

'Colambre, won't you let us have your judgment--your TEESTE' said his
mother.

'Excuse me, ma'am. I have no taste, no judgment, in these things.'

He sometimes paused, and looked at Mr. Soho with a strong inclination
to--But knowing that he should say too much, if he said anything, he
was silent never dared to approach the council table--but continued
walking up and down the room, till he heard a voice, which at once
arrested his attention, and soothed his ire. He approached the table
instantly, and listened, whilst Grace Nugent said everything he wished
to have said, and with all the propriety and delicacy with which he
thought he could not have spoken. He leaned on the table, and fixed his
eyes upon her--years ago, he had seen his cousin--last night, he had
thought her handsome, pleasing, graceful--but now, he saw a new person,
or he saw her in a new light. He marked the superior intelligence,
the animation, the eloquence of her countenance, its variety, whilst
alternately, with arch raillery or grave humour, she played off Mr.
Soho, and made him magnify the ridicule, till it was apparent even to
Lady Clonbrony. He observed the anxiety, lest his mother should expose
her own foibles--he was touched by the respectful, earnest kindness--the
soft tones of persuasion, with which she addressed his mother--the care
not to presume upon her own influence--the good sense, the taste she
showed, yet not displaying her superiority--the address, temper, and
patience, with which she at last accomplished her purpose, and
prevented Lady Clonbrony from doing anything preposterously absurd, or
exorbitantly extravagant.

Lord Colambre was actually sorry when the business was ended--when Mr.
Soho departed--for Grace Nugent was then silent; and it was necessary to
remove his eyes from that countenance, on which he had gazed unobserved.
Beautiful and graceful, yet so unconscious was she of her charms, that
the eye of admiration could rest upon her without her perceiving it--she
seemed so intent upon others as totally to forget herself The whole
train of Lord Colambre's thoughts was so completely deranged that,
although he was sensible there was something of importance he had to say
to his mother, yet, when Mr. Soho's departure left him opportunity to
speak, he stood silent, unable to recollect anything but--Grace Nugent.

When Grace Nugent left the room, after some minutes' silence, and some
effort, Lord Colambre said to his mother, 'Pray, madam, do you know
anything of Sir Terence O'Fay?'

'I!' Said Lady Clonbrony, drawing up her head proudly; 'I know he is a
person I cannot endure. He is no friend of mine, I can assure you--nor
any such sort of person.'

'I thought it was impossible!' cried Colambre, with exultation.

'I only wish your father, Colambre, could say as much,' added Lady
Clonbrony.

Lord Colambre's countenance fell again; and again he was silent for some
time.

'Does my father dine at home, ma'am?'

'I suppose not; he seldom dines at home.'

'Perhaps, ma'am, my father may have some cause to be uneasy about--'

'About?' said Lady Clonbrony, in a tone, and with a look of curiosity
which convinced her son that she knew nothing of his debts or
distresses, if he had any. 'About what?' repeated her ladyship.

Here was no receding, and Lord Colambre never had recourse to artifice.

'About his affairs, I was going to say, madam. But, since you know
nothing of any difficulties or embarrassments, I am persuaded that none
exist.'

Nay, I CAWNT tell you that, Colambre. There are difficulties for ready
money, I confess, when I ask for it, which surprise me often. I know
nothing of affairs--ladies of a certain rank seldom do, you know. But,
considering your father's estate, and the fortune I brought him,'
added her ladyship, proudly, 'I CAWNT conceive it at all. Grace Nugent,
indeed, often talks to me of embarrassments and economy; but that, poor
thing, is very natural for her, because her fortune is not particularly
large, and she has left it all, or almost all, in her uncle and
guardian's hands. I know she's often distressed for odd money to lend
me, and that makes her anxious.'

'Is not Miss Nugent very much admired, ma'am, in London?'

'Of course--in the company she is in, you know, she has every advantage.
And she has a natural family air of fashion--not but what she would have
got on much better, if, when she first appeared in Lon'on, she had taken
my advice, and wrote herself on her cards Miss de Nogent, which would
have taken off the prejudice against the IRICISM of Nugent, you know;
and there is a Count de Nogent.'

'I did not know there was any such prejudice, ma'am. There may be among
a certain set; but, I should think, not among well-informed, well-bred
people.'

'I BIG your PAWDON, Colambre; surely I, that was born in England, an
Henglish-woman BAWN! must be well INFAWMED on this PINT, anyway.'

Lord Colambre was respectfully silent.

'Mother,' resumed he, 'I wonder that Miss Nugent is not married!'

'That is her own fau't, entirely; she has refused very good
offers--establishments that, I own, I think, as Lady Langdale says, I
was to blame to allow her to let pass; but young LEDIES till they are
twenty, always think they can do better. Mr. Martingale, of Martingale,
proposed for her, but she objected to him on account of he's being on
the turf; and Mr. St. Albans' L7000 a year--because--I REELLY forget
what--I believe only because she did not like him--and something about
principles. Now there is Colonel Heathcock, one of the most fashionable
young men you see, always with the Duchess of Torcaster and that
set--Heathcock takes a vast deal of notice of her, for him; and yet, I'm
persuaded, she would not have him to-morrow, if he came to the PINT, and
for no reason, REELLY now, that she can give me, but because she says
he's a coxcomb. Grace has a tincture of Irish pride. But, for my part,
I rejoice that she is so difficult, for I don't know what I should do
without her.'

'Miss Nugent is indeed--very much attached to you, mother, I am
convinced,' said Lord Colambre, beginning his sentence with great
enthusiasm, and ending it with great sobriety.

'Indeed then, she's a sweet girl, and I am very partial to her, there's
the truth,' cried Lady Clonbrony, in an undisguised Irish accent, and
with her natural warm manner. But a moment afterwards her features and
whole form resumed their constrained stillness and stiffness, and, in
her English accent, she continued--

'Before you put my IDEES out of my head, Colambre, I had something
to say to you--Oh! I know what it was--we were talking of
embarrassments--and I wished to do your father the justice to mention
to you that he has been UNCOMMON LIBERAL to me about this gala, and has
REELLY given me carte-blanche; and I've a notion--indeed I know--that it
is you, Colambre, I am to thank for this.'

'Me!--ma'am!'

'Yes! Did not your father give you any hint?'

'No, ma'am; I have seen my father but for half an hour since I came to
town, and in that time he said nothing to me--of his affairs.'

'But what I allude to is more your affair.'

'He did not speak to me of any affairs, ma'am--he spoke only of my
horses.'

'Then I suppose my lord leaves it to me to open the matter to you. I
have the pleasure to tell you, that we have in view for you--and I
think I may say with more than the approbation of all her family--an
alliance--'

'Oh! my dear mother! you cannot be serious,' cried Lord Colambre; 'you
know I am not of years of discretion yet--I shall not think of marrying
these ten years, at least.'

'Why not? Nay, my dear Colambre, don't go, I beg--I am serious, I assure
you--and, to convince you of it, I shall tell you candidly, at once, all
your father told me: that now you've done with Cambridge, and are come
to Lon'on, he agrees with me in wishing that you should make the figure
you ought to make, Colambre, as sole heir-apparent to the Clonbrony
estate, and all that sort of thing. But, on the other hand, living in
Lon'on, and making you the handsome allowance you ought to have, are,
both together, more than your father can afford, without inconvenience,
he tells me.'

'I assure you, mother, I shall be content--'

'No, no; you must not be content, child, and you must hear me. You must
live in a becoming style, and make a proper appearance. I could not
present you to my friends here, nor be happy, if you did not, Colambre.
Now the way is clear before you: you have birth and title, here is
fortune ready made; you will have a noble estate of your own when old
Quin dies, and you will not be any encumbrance or inconvenience to your
father or anybody. Marrying an heiress accomplishes all this at once;
and the young lady is everything we could wish, besides--you will meet
again at the gala. Indeed, between ourselves, she is the grand object of
the gala; all her friends will come EN MASSE, and one should wish that
they should see things in proper style. You have seen the young lady in
question, Colambre--Miss Broadhurst. Don't you recollect the young lady
I introduced you to last night after the opera?'

'The little, plain girl, covered with diamonds, who was standing beside
Miss Nugent?'

'In di'monds, yes. But you won't think her plain when you see more of
her--that wears off; I thought her plain, at first--I hope--'

'I hope,' said Lord Colambre, 'that you will not take it unkindly of
me, my dear mother, if I tell you, at once, that I have no thoughts of
marrying at present--and that I never will marry for money. Marrying an
heiress is not even a new way of paying old debts--at all events, it is
one to which no distress could persuade me to have recourse; and as I
must, if I outlive old Mr. Quin, have an independent fortune, THERE IS
NO occasion to purchase one by marriage.'

'There is no distress, that I know of, in the case,' cried Lady
Clonbrony. 'Where is your imagination running, Colambre? But merely for
your establishment, your independence.'

'Establishment, I want none--independence I do desire, and will
preserve. Assure my father, my DEAR MOTHER, that I will not be
an expense to him. I will live within the allowance he made me at
Cambridge--I will give up half of it--I will do anything for his
convenience--but marry for money, that I cannot do.'

'Then, Colambre, you are very disobliging,' said Lady Clonbrony, with an
expression of disappointment and displeasure; 'for your father says,
if you don't marry Miss Broadhurst, we can't live in Lon'on another
winter.'

This said--which, had she been at the moment mistress of herself, she
would not have let out--Lady Clonbrony abruptly quitted the room. Her
son stood motionless, saying to himself--

'Is this my mother?--How altered!'

The next morning he seized an opportunity of speaking to his father,
whom he caught, with difficulty, just when he was going out, as usual,
for the day. Lord Colambre, with all the respect due to his father, and
with that affectionate manner by which he always knew how to soften the
strength of his expressions, made nearly the same declarations of his
resolution, by which his mother had been so much surprised and offended.
Lord Clonbrony seemed more embarrassed, but not so much displeased. When
Lord Colambre adverted, as delicately as he could, to the selfishness of
desiring from him the sacrifice of liberty for life, to say nothing of
his affections, merely to enable his family to make a splendid figure
in London, Lord Clonbrony exclaimed, 'That's all nonsense!--cursed
nonsense! That's the way we are obliged to state the thing to your
mother, my dear boy, because I might talk her deaf before she would
understand or listen to anything else. But, for my own share, I don't
care a rush if London was sunk in the salt sea. Little Dublin for my
money, as Sir Terence O'Fay says.'

'Who is Sir Terence O'Fay, may I ask, sir?'

'Why, don't you know Terry? Ay, you've been so long at Cambridge, I
forgot. And did you never see Terry?'

'I have seen him, sir--I met him yesterday at Mr. Mordicai's, the
coachmaker's.'

'Mordicai's!' exclaimed Lord Clonbrony, with a sudden blush, which
he endeavoured to hide by taking snuff. 'He is a damned rascal, that
Mordicai! I hope you didn't believe a word he said--nobody does that
knows him.'

'I am glad, sir, that you seem to know him so well, and to be upon your
guard against him,' replied Lord Colambre; 'for, from what I heard of
his conversation, when he was not aware who I was, I am convinced he
would do you any injury in his power.'

'He shall never have me in his power, I promise him. We shall take care
of that. But what did he say?'

Lord Colambre repeated the substance of what Mordicai had said, and Lord
Clonbrony reiterated--'Damned rascal!--damned rascal! I'll get out
of his hands; I'll have no more to do with him.' But, as he spoke,
he exhibited evident symptoms of uneasiness, moving continually, and
shifting from leg to leg like a foundered horse.

He could not bring himself positively to deny that he had debts and
difficulties; but he would by no means open the state of his affairs
to his son--'No father is called upon to do that,' said he to himself;
'none but a fool would do it.'

Lord Colambre, perceiving his father's embarrassment, withdrew his eyes,
respectfully refrained from all further inquiries, and simply repeated
the assurance he had made to his mother, that he would put his family to
no additional expense; and that, if it was necessary, he would willingly
give up half his allowance.

'Not at all--not at all, my dear boy,' said his father; 'I would rather
cramp myself than that you should be cramped, a thousand times over.
But it is all my Lady Clonbrony's nonsense. If people would but, as they
ought, stay in their own country, live on their own estates, and kill
their own mutton, money need never be wanting.'

For killing their own mutton, Lord Colambre did not see the
indispensable necessity; but he rejoiced to hear his father assert that
people should reside in their own country.

'Ay,' cried Lord Clonbrony, to strengthen his assertion, as he always
thought it necessary to do, by quoting some other person's opinion. 'So
Sir Terence O'Fay always says, and that's the reason your mother can't
endure poor Terry. You don't know Terry? No, you have only seen him;
but, indeed, to see him is to know him; for he is the most off-hand,
good fellow in Europe.'

'I don't pretend to know him yet,' said Lord Colambre. 'I am not so
presumptuous as to form my opinion at first sight.'

'Oh, curse your modesty!' interrupted Lord Clonbrony; 'you mean, you
don't pretend to like him yet; but Terry will make you like him. I
defy you not. I'll introduce you to him--him to you, I mean--most
warn-hearted, generous dog upon earth--convivial--jovial--with wit and
humour enough, in his own way, to split you--split me if he has not. You
need not cast down your eyes, Colambre. What's your objection?'

'I have made none, sir; but, if you urge me, I can only say that, if
he has all these good qualities, it is to be regretted that he does not
look and speak a little more like a gentleman.'

'A gentleman! he is as much a gentleman as any of your formal prigs--not
the exact Cambridge cut, maybe. Curse your English education! 'Twas none
of my advice. I suppose you mean to take after your mother in the notion
that nothing can be good, or genteel, but what's English.'

'Far from it, sir; I assure you, I am as warm a friend to Ireland as
your heart could wish. You will have no reason, in that respect at
least, nor, I hope, in any other, to curse my English education; and,
if my gratitude and affection can avail, you shall never regret the
kindness and liberality with which you have, I fear, distressed yourself
to afford me the means of becoming all that a British nobleman ought to
be.'

'Gad! you distress me now!' said Lord Clonbrony, 'and I didn't expect
it, or I wouldn't make a fool of myself this way,' added he, ashamed of
his emotion, and whiffling it off. 'You have an Irish heart, that I see,
which no education can spoil. But you must like Terry. I'll give you
time, as he said to me, when first he taught me to like usquebaugh. Good
morning to you!'