Orley Farm (Serial)/Chapter 51
CHAPTER XI.
MRS. FURNIVAL'S JOURNEY TO HAMWORTH.
When Peregrine got back to The Cleeve he learned that there was a lady with his mother. He had by this time partially succeeded in reasoning himself out of his despondency. He had learned at any rate that his proposition to marry into the Staveley family had been regarded with favour by all that family except the one whose views on that subject were by far the most important to him; and he had learned, as he thought, that Lady Staveley had no suspicion that her daughter's heart was preoccupied. But in this respect Lady Staveley had been too cunning for him. 'Wait!' he said to himself as he went slowly along the road. 'It's all very well to say wait, but there are some things which won't bear waiting for. A man who waits never gets well away with the hounds.' Nevertheless as he rode into the court-yard his hopes were somewhat higher than they had been when he rode out of it.
'A lady! what lady? You don't mean Lady Mason?'
No. The servant did not mean Lady Mason. It was an elderly stout lady who had come in a fly, and the elderly stout lady was now in the drawing-room with his mother. Lady Mason was still upstairs. We all know who was that elderly stout lady, and we must now go back and say a few words as to her journey from Orange Street to Hamworth.
On the preceding evening Mrs. Furnival had told Martha Biggs what was her intention; or perhaps it would be more just to say that Martha Biggs had worked it out of her. Now that Mrs. Furnival had left the fashionable neighbourhood of Cavendish Square, and located herself in that eastern homely district to which Miss Biggs had been so long accustomed, Miss Biggs had been almost tyrannical. It was not that she was less attentive to her friend, or less willing to slave for her with a view to any possible or impossible result. But the friend of Mrs. Furnival's bosom could not help feeling her opportunity. Mrs. Furnival had now thrown herself very much upon her friend, and of course the friend now expected unlimited privileges;—as is always the case with friends in such a position. It is very well to have friends to lean upon, but it is not always well to lean upon one's friends.
'I will be with you before you start in the morning,' said Martha.
'It will not be at all necessary,' said Mrs. Furnival.
'Oh, but I shall indeed. And, Kitty, I should think nothing of going with you, if you would wish it. Indeed I think you should have a female friend alongside of you in such a trouble. You have only to say the word and I'll go in a minute.'
Mrs. Furnival however did not say the word, and Miss Biggs was obliged to deny herself the pleasure of the journey. But true to her word she came in the morning in ample time to catch Mrs. Furnival before she started, and for half an hour poured out sweet counsel into her friend's ear. If one's friends would as a rule refrain from action how much more strongly would real friendship flourish in the world!
'Now, Kitty, I do trust you will persist in seeing her.'
'That's why I'm going there.'
'Yes; but she might put you off it, if you're not firm. Of course she'll deny herself if you send in your name first. What I should do would be this;—to ask to be shown in to her and then follow the servant. When the happiness of a life is at stake—the happinesses of two lives I may say, and perhaps the immortal welfare of one of them in another world,—one must not stand too much upon etiquette. You would never forgive yourself if you did. Your object is to save him and to shame her out of her vile conduct. To shame her and frighten her out of it if that be possible. Follow the servant in and don't give them a moment to think. That's my advice.'
In answer to all this Mrs. Furnival did not say much, and what little she did say was neither in the affirmative nor in the negative. Martha knew that she was being ill treated, but not on that account did she relax her friendly efforts. The time would soon come, if all things went well, when Mrs. Furnival would be driven by the loneliness of her position to open her heart in a truly loving and confidential manner. Miss Biggs hoped sincerely that her friend and her friend's husband might be brought together again;—perhaps by her own efforts: but she did not anticipate,—or perhaps desire any speedy termination of the present arrangements. It would be well that Mr. Furnival should be punished by a separation of some months. Then, when he had learned to know what it was to have a home without a 'presiding genius,' he might, if duly penitent and open in his confession, be forgiven. That was Miss Biggs's programme, and she thought it probable that Mrs. Furnival might want a good deal of consolation before that day of open confession arrived.
'I shall go with you as far as the station, Kitty,' she said in a very decided voice.
'It will not be at all necessary,' Mrs. Furnival replied.
'Oh, but I shall. You must want support at such a moment as this, and as far as I can give it you shall have it.'
'But it won't be any support to have you in the cab with me. If you will believe me, I had rather go alone. It is so necessary that I should think about all this.'
But Martha would not believe her: and as for thinking, she was quite ready to take that part of the work herself. 'Don't say another word,' she said, as she thrust herself in at the cab-door after her friend. Mrs. Furnival hardly did say another word, but Martha Biggs said many. She knew that Mrs. Furnival was cross, ill pleased, and not disposed to confidence. But what of that? Her duty as a friend was not altered by Mrs. Furnival's ill humour. She would persevere, and having in her hands so great an opportunity, did not despair but what the time might come when both Mr. and Mrs. Furnival would with united voices hail her as their preserver. Poor Martha Biggs! She did not mean amiss, but she was troublesome.
It was very necessary that Mrs. Furnival should think over the step which she was taking. What was it that she intended to do when she arrived at Hamworth? That plan of forcing her way into Lady Mason's house did not recommend itself to her the more in that it was recommended by Martha Biggs. 'I suppose you will come up to us this evening?' Martha said, when she left her friend in the railway carriage. 'Not this evening, I think. I shall be so tired,' Mrs. Furnival had replied. 'Then I shall come down to you,' said Martha, almost holloaing after her friend, as the train started. Mr. Furnival would not have been displeased had he known the state of his wife's mind at that moment towards her late visitor. During the whole of her journey down to Hamworth she tried to think what she would say to Lady Mason, but instead of so thinking her mind would revert to the unpleasantness of Miss Biggs's friendship.
When she left the train at the Hamworth station she was solicited by the driver of a public vehicle to use his fly, and having ascertained from the man that he well knew the position of Orley Farm, she got into the carriage and had herself driven to the residence of her hated rival. She had often heard of Orley Farm, but she had never as yet seen it, and now felt considerable anxiety both as regards the house and its occupant.
'This is Orley Farm, ma'am,' said the man, stopping at the gate. 'Shall I drive up?'
But at this moment the gate was opened by a decent, respectable woman,—Mrs. Furnival would not quite have called her a lady,—who looked hard at the fly as it turned on to the private road.
'Perhaps this lady could tell me,' said Mrs. Furnival, putting out her hand. 'Is this where Lady Mason lives?'
The woman was Mrs. Dockwrath. On that day Samuel Dockwrath had gone to London, but before starting he had made known to his wife with fiendish glee that it had been at last decided by all the persons concerned that Lady Mason should be charged with perjury, and tried for that offence.
'You don't mean to say that the judges have said so?' asked poor Miriam.
'I do mean to say that all the judges in England could not save her from having to stand her trial, and it is my belief that all the lawyers in the land cannot save her from conviction. I wonder whether she ever thinks now of those fields which she took away from me!'
Then, when her master's back was turned, she put on her bonnet and walked up to Orley Farm. She knew well that Lady Mason was at The Cleeve, and believed that she was about to become the wife of Sir Peregrine; but she knew also that Lucius was at home, and it might be well to let him know what was going on. She had just seen Lucius Mason; when she was met by Mrs. Furnival's fly. She had seen Lucius Mason, and the angry manner in which he declared that he could in no way interfere in his mother's affairs had frightened her. 'But, Mr. Lucius,' she had said, 'she ought to be doing something, you know. There is no believing how bitter Samuel is about it.'
'He may be as bitter as he likes, Mrs. Dockwrath,' young Mason had answered with considerable dignity in his manner. 'It will not in the least affect my mother's interests. In the present instance, however, I am not her adviser.' Whereupon Mrs. Dockwrath had retired, and as she was afraid to go to Lady Mason at The Cleeve, she was about to return home when she opened the gate for Mrs. Furnival. She then explained that Lady Mason was not at home and had not been at home for some weeks; that she was staying with her friends at The Cleeve, and that in order to get there Mrs. Furnival must go back through Hamworth and round by the high road.
'I knows the way well enough, Mrs. Dockwrath,' said the driver. 'I've been at The Cleeve before now, I guess.'
So Mrs. Furnival was driven back to Hamworth, and on going over that piece of ground she resolved that she would follow Lady Mason to The Cleeve. Why should she be afraid of Sir Peregrine Orme or of all the Ormes? Why should she fear any one while engaged in the performance of so sacred a duty? I must confess that in truth she was very much afraid, but nevertheless she had herself taken on to The Cleeve. When she arrived at the door, she asked of course for Lady Mason, but did not feel at all inclined to follow the servant uninvited into the house as recommended by Miss Biggs. Lady Mason, the man said, was not very well, and after a certain amount of parley at the door the matter ended in her being shown into the drawing-room, where she was soon joined by Mrs. Orme.
'I am Mrs. Furnival,' she began, and then Mrs. Orme begged her to sit down. 'I have come here to see Lady Mason—on some business—some business not of a very pleasant nature. I'm sure I don't know how to trouble you with it, and yet—' And then even Mrs. Orme could see that her visitor was somewhat confused.
'Is it about the trial?' asked Mrs. Orme.
'Then there is really a lawsuit going on?'
'A lawsuit!' said Mrs. Orme, rather puzzled.
'You said something about a trial. Now, Mrs. Orme, pray do not deceive me. I'm a very unhappy woman; I am indeed.'
'Deceive you! Why should I deceive you?'
'No, indeed. Why should you? And now I look at you I do not think you will.'
'Indeed I will not, Mrs. Furnival.'
'And there is really a lawsuit then?' Mrs. Furnival persisted in asking.
'I thought you would know all about it,' said Mrs. Orme, 'as Mr. Furnival manages Lady Mason's law business. I thought that perhaps it was about that that you had come.'
Then Mrs. Furnival explained that she knew nothing whatever about Lady Mason's affairs, that hitherto she had not believed that there was any trial or any lawsuit, and gradually explained the cause of all her trouble. She did not do this without sundry interruptions, caused both by her own feelings and by Mrs. Orme's exclamations. But at last it all came forth; and before she had done she was calling her husband Tom, and appealing to her listener for sympathy.
'But indeed it's a mistake, Mrs. Furnival. It is indeed. There are reasons which make me quite sure of it.' So spoke Mrs. Orme. How could Lady Mason have been in love with Mr. Furnival,—if such a state of things could be possible under any circumstances,—seeing that she had been engaged to marry Sir Peregrine? Mrs. Orme did not declare her reasons, but repeated with very positive assurances her knowledge that Mrs. Furnival was labouring under some very grievous error.
'But why should she always be at his chambers? I have seen her there twice, Mrs. Orme. I have indeed;—with my own eyes.'
Mrs. Orme would have thought nothing of it if Lady Mason had been seen there every day for a week together, and regarded Mrs. Furnival's suspicions as an hallucination bordering on insanity. A woman be in love with Mr. Furnival! A very pretty woman endeavour to entice away from his wife the affection of such a man as that! As these ideas passed through Mrs. Orme's mind she did not perhaps remember that Sir Peregrine, who was more than ten years Mr. Furnival's senior, had been engaged to marry the same lady. But then she herself loved Sir Peregrine dearly, and she had no such feeling with reference to Mr. Furnival. She however did what was most within her power to do to allay the suffering under which her visitor laboured, and explained to her the position in which Lady Mason was placed. 'I do not think she can see you,' she ended by saying, 'for she is in very great trouble.'
'To be tried for perjury!' said Mrs. Furnival, out of whose heart all hatred towards Lady Mason was quickly departing. Had she heard that she was to be tried for murder,—that she had been convicted of murder,—it would have altogether softened her heart towards her supposed enemy. She could forgive her any offence but the one.
'Yes indeed,' said Mrs. Orme, wiping a tear away from her eye as she thought of all the troubles present and to come. 'It is the saddest thing. Poor lady! It would almost break your heart if you were to see her. Since first she heard of this, which was before Christmas, she has not had one quiet moment.'
'Poor creature!' said Mrs. Furnival.
'Ah, you would say so, if you knew all. She has had to depend a great deal upon Mr. Furnival for advice, and without that I don't know what she would do.' This Mrs. Orme said, not wishing to revert to the charge against Lady Mason which had brought Mrs. Furnival down to Hamworth, but still desirous of emancipating her poor friend completely from that charge. 'And Sir Peregrine also is very kind to her,—very.' This she added, feeling that up to that moment Mrs. Furnival could have heard nothing of the intended marriage, but thinking it probable that she must do so before long. 'Indeed anybody would be kind to her who saw her in her suffering. I am sure you would, Mrs. Furnival.'
'Dear, dear!' said Mrs. Furnival who was beginning to entertain almost a kindly feeling towards Mrs. Orme.
'It is such a dreadful position for a lady. Sometimes I think that her mind will fail her before the day comes.'
'But what a very wicked man that other Mr. Mason must be!' said Mrs. Furnival.
That was a view of the matter on which Mrs. Orme could not say much. She disliked that Mr. Mason as much as she could dislike a man whom she had never seen, but it was not open to her now to say that he was very wicked in this matter. 'I suppose he thinks the property ought to belong to him,' she answered.
'That was settled years ago,' said Mrs. Furnival. 'Horrid, cruel man! But after all I don't see why she should mind it so much.'
'Oh, Mrs. Furnival!—to stand in a court and be tried.'
'But if one is innocent! For my part, if I knew myself innocent I could brave them all. It is the feeling that one is wrong that cows one.' And Mrs. Furnival thought of the little confession which she would be called upon to make at home.
And then feeling some difficulty as to her last words in such an interview, Mrs. Furnival got up to go. 'Perhaps, Mrs. Orme,' she said, 'I have been foolish in this.'
'You have been mistaken, Mrs. Furnival. I am sure of that.'
'I begin to think I have. But, Mrs. Orme, will you let me ask you a favour? Perhaps you will not say anything about my coming here. I have been very unhappy; I have indeed; and—' Mrs. Furnival's handkerchief was now up at her eyes, and Mrs. Orme's heart was again full of pity. Of course she gave the required promise; and, looking to the character of the woman, we may say that, of course, she kept it.
'Mrs. Furnival! What was she here about?' Peregrine asked of his mother.
'I would rather not tell you, Perry,' said his mother, kissing him; and then there were no more words spoken on the subject.
Mrs. Furnival as she made her journey back to London began to dislike Martha Biggs more and more, and most unjustly attributed to that lady in her thoughts the folly of this journey to Hamworth. The journey to Hamworth had been her own doing, and had the idea originated with Miss Biggs the journey would never have been made. As it was, while she was yet in the train, she came to the strong resolution of returning direct from the London station to her own house in Harley Street. It would be best to cut the knot at once, and thus by a bold stroke of the knife rid herself of the Orange Street rooms and Miss Biggs at the same time. She did drive to Harley Street, and on her arrival at her own door was informed by the astonished Spooner that, 'Master was at home,—all alone in the dining-room. He was going to dine at home, and seemed very lonely like.' There, as she stood in the hall, there was nothing but the door between her and her husband, and she conceived that the sound of her arrival must have been heard by him. For a moment her courage was weak, and she thought of hurrying up stairs. Had she done so her trouble would still have been all before her. Some idea of this came upon her mind, and after a moment's pause, she opened the dining-room door and found herself in her husband's presence. He was sitting over the fire in his arm-chair, very gloomily, and had not heard the arrival. He too had some tenderness left in his heart, and this going away of his wife had distressed him.
'Tom,' she said, going up to him, and speaking in a low voice, 'I have come back again.' And she stood before him as a suppliant.