The Belton Estate

A >> Anthony Trollope >> The Belton Estate

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33

'Ah; that's easily said. But never mind. Why should I want to remain
when I shall have once seen her properly settled. I've nothing to live
for except that she may have a home.'

On this subject it was quite impossible that Belton should say
anything. Clara was standing by him, and she, as he knew, was engaged
to Captain Aylmer. So circumstanced, what could he say as to Clara's
settlement in life? That something should be said between him and the
old man, and something also between him and Clara, was a matter of
course; but it was quite out of the question that he should discuss
Clara's prospects in life in presence of them both together.

'Papa's illness makes him a little melancholy,' said Clara.

'Of course of course. It always does,' said Will.

'I think he will be better when the weather becomes milder,' said Clara.

'I suppose I may be allowed to know how I feel myself,' said the
squire. 'But don't keep Will up here when he wants his dinner. There;
that'll do. You'd better leave me now.' Then Will went out to his old
room, and a quarter of an hour afterwards he found himself seated with
Clara at the dinner- table; and a quarter of an hour after that the
dinner was over, and they had both drawn their chairs to the fire.

Neither of them knew how to begin with the other. Clara was under no
obligation to declare her engagement to her cousin, but yet she felt
that it would be unhandsome in her not to do so. Had Will never made
the mistake of wanting to marry her himself, she would have done so as
a matter of course. Had she supposed him to cherish any intention of
renewing that mistake she would have felt herself bound to tell him so
that he might save himself from unnecessary pain. But she gave him
credit for no such intention, and yet she could not but remember that
scene among the rocks. And then was she, or was she not, to say
anything to him about the Askertons? With him also the difficulty was
as great. He did not in truth believe that the tidings which he had
heard from his friend the lawyer required corroboration; but yet it was
necessary that he should know from herself that she had disposed of her
hand and it was necessary also that he should say some word to her as
to their future standing and friendship.

'You must be very anxious to see how your farm goes on,' said she.

He had not thought much of his agricultural venture at Belton for the
last three or four days, and would hardly have been vexed had he been
told that every head of cattle about the place had died of the murrain.
Some general idea of the expediency of going on with a thing which he
had commenced still actuated him; but it was the principle involved,
and not the speculation itself, which interested him. But he could not
explain all this, and he therefore was driven to some cold agreement
with her. 'The farm! you mean the stock. Yes; I shall go and have a
look at them early tomorrow. I suppose they're all alive.'

'Pudge says that they are doing uncommonly well.' Pudge was a leading
man among the Belton labourers, whom Will had hired to look after his
concerns.

'That's all right. I dare say Pudge knows quite as much about it as I
do.'

'But the master's eye is everything.'

'Pudge's eye is quite as good as mine; and probably much better, as he
knows the country.'

'You used to say that it was everything for a man to look after his own
interests.'

'And I do look after them. Pudge and I will go and have a look at every
beast tomorrow, and I shall look very wise and pretend to know more
about it than he does. In stock-farming the chief thing is not to have
too many beasts. They used to say that half-stocking was whole profit,
and. whole- stocking was half profit. If the animals have plenty to
eat, and the rent isn't too high, they'll take care of. their owner.'

'But then there is so much illness.'

'I always insure.'

Clara perceived that the subject of the cattle didn't suit the present
occasion. When he had before been at Belton. he had liked nothing so
much as talking about the cattle-sheds, and the land, and the kind of
animals which would suit the place; but now the novelty of the thing
was gone and the farmer did not wish to talk of his farm. In her
anxiety to find a topic which would not be painful, she went from the
cattle to the cow. 'You can't think what a pet Bess has been with us.
And she seems to think that she is privileged to go everywhere, and do
anything.'

'I hope they have taken care that she has had winter food.'

'Winter food! Why Pudge, and all the Pudges, and all the family in the
house, and all your cattle would have to want, before Bessy would be
allowed to miss a meal. Pudge always says, with his sententious shake
of the head, that the young squire was very particular about Bessy.'

'Those Alderneys want a little care that's all.'

Bessy was. of no better service to Clara in her present difficulty than
the less aristocratic herd of common cattle. There was a pause for a
moment, and then she began again. 'How did you leave your sister, Will?'

'Much the same as usual. I think she has borne the first of the cold
weather better than she did last year.'

'I do so wish that I knew her.'

'Perhaps you will some day. But I don't suppose that you ever will.'

'Why not?'

'It's not likely that you'll ever come to Plaistow now and Mary never
leaves it except to go to my uncle's.'

Clara instantly knew that he had heard of her engagement, though she
could not imagine from what source he had heard it. There was something
in the tone of his voice something especially in the expression of that
word 'now', which told her that it must be so. 'I should be so glad to
go there if I could,' she said, with that special hypocrisy which
belongs to women, and is allowed to them; 'but, of course, I cannot
leave papa in his present state.'

'And if you did leave him you would not go to Plaistow.'

'Not unless you and Mary asked me.'

'And you wouldn't if we did. How could you?'

'What do you mean, Will? It seems as though you were almost savage to
me.'

'Am I? Well I feel savage, but not to you.'

'Nor to any one, I hope, belonging to me.' She knew that it was all
coming; that the whole subject of her future life must now be
discussed; and she began to fear that the discussion might not be easy.
But she did not know how to give it a direction. She feared that he
would become angry, and yet she knew not why. He had accepted his own
rejection tranquilly, and could hardly take it as an offence that she
should now be engaged to Captain Aylmer.

'Mr Green has told me', said he, 'that you are going to be married.'

'How could Mr Green have known?'

'He did know at least I suppose he knew, for he told me.'

'How very odd.'

'I suppose it is true?' Clara did not make any immediate answer, and
then he repeated the question. 'I suppose it is true?'

'It is true that I am engaged.'

'To Captain Aylmer?'

'Yes; to Captain Aylmer. You know that I had known him very long. I
hope that you are not angry with me because I did not write and tell
you. Strange as it may seem, seeing that you had heard it already, it
is not a week yet since it was settled; and had I written to you, I
could only have addressed my letter to you here.'

'I wasn't thinking about that. I didn't specially want you to write to
me. What difference would it make?'

'But I should have felt that I owed it to your kindness and your regard
for me.'

'My regard! What's the use of regard?'

'You are not going to quarrel with me, Will, because because because .
If you had really been my brother, as you once said you would be, you
could not but have approved of what I have done.'

'But I am not your brother.'

'Oh, Will; that sounds so cruel!'

'I am not your brother, and I have no right to approve or disapprove.'

'I will not say that I could make my engagement with Captain Aylmer
dependent on your approval. It would not be fair to him to do so, and
it would put me into a false position.'

' Have I asked you to make any such absurd sacrifice?'

'Listen to me, Will. I say that I could not do that. But, short of
that, there is nothing I would not do to satisfy you. I think so much
of your judgment and goodness, and so very much of your affection; I
love you so dearly, that Oh, Will, say a kind word to me!'

'A kind word; yes, but what sort of kindness?

'You must know that Captain Aylmer'

'Don't talk to me of Captain Aylmer. Have I said anything against him?
Have I ventured to make any objection? Of course, I know his
superiority to myself. I know that he is a man of the world, and that I
am not; that he is educated, and that I am ignorant; that he has a
position, and that I have none; that he has much to offer, and that I
have nothing. Of course, I see the difference; but that does not make
me comfortable.'

'Will, I had learned to love him before I had ever seen you.'

'Why didn't you tell me so, that I might have known there was no hope,
and have gone away utterly out of the kingdom? If it was all settled
then, why didn't you tell me, and save me from breaking my heart with
false hopes?'

'Nothing was settled then. I hardly knew my own mind; but yet I loved
him. There; cannot you understand it? Have I not told you enough?'

'Yes, I understand it.'

'And do you blame me?'

He paused awhile before he answered her. 'No; I do not blame you. I
suppose I must blame no one but myself. But you should bear with me. I
was so happy, and now I am so wretched.'

There was nothing that she could say to comfort him. She had altogether
mistaken the nature of the man's regard, and had even mistaken the very
nature of the man. So much she now learned, and could tell herself that
had she known him better she would either have prevented this second
visit, or would have been careful that he should have learned the truth
from herself before he came. Now she could only wait till he should
again have got strength to hide his suffering under the veil of his own
manliness.

'I have not a word to say against what you are doing,' he said at last;
'not a word. But you will understand what I mean when I tell you that
it is not likely that you will come to Plaistow.'

'Some day, Will, when you have a wife of your own'

'Very well; but we won't talk about that at present, if you please.
When I have, things will be different. In the meantime your course and
mine will be separate. You, I suppose, will be with him in London,
while I shall be at the devil as likely as not.'

'How can you speak to me in that way? Is that like being my brother?'

'I don't feel like being your brother. However, I beg your pardon, and
now we will have done with it. Spilt milk can't be helped, and my milk
pans have got themselves knocked over. That's all. Don't you think we
ought to go up to your father again?'

On the following day Belton and Mr Amedroz discussed the same subject,
but the conversation went off very quietly. Will was determined not to
exhibit his weakness before the father as he had done before the
daughter. When the squire, with a maundering voice, drawled out some
expression of regret that his daughter's choice had not fallen in
another place, Will was able to say that bygones must he bygones. He
regretted it also, but that was now over. And when the squire
endeavoured to say a few ill-natured words about Captain Aylmer, Will
stopped him at once by asserting that the captain was all that he ought
to be.

'And it would have made me so happy to think that my daughter's child
should come to live in his grandfather's old house,' murmured Mr
Amedroz.

'And there's no knowing that he mayn't do so yet,' said Will. 'But all
these things are so doubtful that a man is wrong to fix his happiness
upon them.' After that he went out to ramble about, the place, and
before the third day was over Clara was able to perceive that, in spite
of what he had said, he was as busy about the cattle as though his
bread depended on them.

Nothing had been said as yet about the Askertons, and Clara had
resolved that their name should not first be mentioned by her. Mrs
Askerton had prophesied that Will would have some communication to make
about herself, and Clara would at any rate see whether her cousin
would, of his own accord, introduce the subject. But three days passed
by, and he had made no allusion to the cottage or its inhabitants. This
in itself was singular, as the Askertons were the only local friends
whom Clara knew, and as Belton had become personally acquainted with
Mrs Askerton. But such was the case; and when Mr Amedroz once said
something about Mrs Askerton in the presence of both Clara and Belton,
they both of them shrank from the subject in a manner that made Clara
understand that any conversation about the Askertons was to be avoided.
On the fourth day Clara saw Mrs Askerton, but then Will Belton's name
was not mentioned. There was therefore, among them all, a sense of some
mystery which made them uncomfortable, and which seemed to admit of no
solution. Clara was more sure than ever that her cousin had made no
inquiries that he should not have made, and that he would put no
information that he might have to an improper use. But of such
certainty on her part she could say nothing.

Three weeks passed by, and it seemed as though Belton's visit were to
come to an end without any further open trouble. Now and then something
was said about. Captain Aylmer; but it was very little, and Belton made
no further reference to his own feelings. It had come to be understood
that his visit was to be limited to a month; and to both him and Clara
the month wore itself away slowly, neither of them having much pleasure
in the society of the other. The old squire came downstairs once for an
hour or two, and spent the whole time in bitter complaints. Everything
was wrong, and everybody was ill-treating him. Even with Will he
quarrelled, or did his best to quarrel, in regard to everything about
the place, though at the same time he did not cease to grumble at his
visitor for going away and leaving him. Belton bore it all so well that
the grumbling and quarrelling did not lead to much; but it required all
his good-humour and broad common sense to prevent serious troubles and
misunderstanding.

During the period of her cousin's visit at Belton, Clara received two
letters from Captain Aylmer, who was spending the Christmas holidays
with his father and mother, and on the day previous to that of her
cousin's departure there came a third. In neither of these letters was
there much said about Sir Anthony, but they were all very full of Lady
Aylmer. In the first he wrote with something of the personal enthusiasm
of a lover and therefore Clara hardly felt the little drawbacks to her
happiness which were contained in certain innuendoes respecting Lady
Aylmer's ideas, and Lady Aylmer's hopes, and Lady Aylmer's fears. Clara
was not going to marry Lady Aylmer, and did not fear but that she could
hold her own against any mother-in-law in the world when once they
should be brought face to face. And as long as Captain Aylmer seemed to
take her part rather than that of his mother it was all very well. The
second letter was more trying to her temper, as it contained one or two
small morsels of advice as to conduct which had evidently originated
with her ladyship. Now there is nothing, I take it, so irritating to an
engaged young lady as counsel from her intended husband's mamma. An
engaged young lady, if she be really in love, will take almost anything
from her lover as long as she is sure that it comes altogether from
himself. He may take what liberties he pleases with her dress. He may
prescribe high church or low church if he be not, as is generally the
case, in a condition to accept, rather than to give, prescriptions on
that subject. He may order almost any course of reading providing that
he supply the books. And he may even interfere with the style of
dancing, and recommend or prohibit partners. But he may not thrust his
mother down his future wife's throat. In answer to the second letter,
Clara did not say much to show her sense of objection. Indeed she said
nothing. But in saying nothing she showed her objection, and Captain
Aylmer understood it. Then came the third letter, and as it contained
matter touching upon our story, it shall be given entire and I hope it
may be taken by gentlemen about to marry as a fair specimen of the sort
of letter they ought not to write to the girls of their hearts:

Aylmer Castle

19th January, 186 .

'Dearest Clara I got your letter of the 16th yesterday, and was sorry
you said nothing in reference to my mother's ideas as to the house at
Perivale. Of course she knew that I heard from you, and was
disappointed when, I was obliged to tell her, that you had not alluded
to the subject. She is very anxious about you, and, having now given
her assent to our marriage, is of course desirous of knowing that her
kindly feeling is reciprocated. I assured her that my own Clara was the
last person to be remiss in such a matter, and reminded her that young
ladies are seldom very careful in their mode of answering letters.
Remember, therefore, that I am now your guarantee, and send some
message to relieve me from my liability.

When I told her of your father's long illness, which she laments
greatly, and of your cousin's continued presence at Belton Castle, she
seemed to think that Mr Belton's visit should not be prolonged. When I
told her that he was your nearest relative, she remarked that cousins
are the same as any other people which indeed they are. I know that my
Clara Will not suppose that I mean more by this than the words convey.
Indeed I mean less. But not having the advantage of a mother of your
own, you will not be sorry to know what are my mother's opinions on
matters which so nearly concern you.

And now I come to another subject, as to which what I shall say will
surprise you very much. You know, I think, that my aunt Winterfield and
I had some conversation about your neighbours, the Askertons; and you
will remember that my aunt, whose ideas on such matters were always
correct, was a little afraid that your father had not made sufficient
inquiry respecting them before he allowed them to settle near him as
tenants. It now turns out that she is very far, indeed, from what she
ought to be. My mother at first thought of writing to you about this;
but she is a little fatigued, and at last resolved that under all the
circumstances it might be as well that I should tell you. It seems that
Mrs Askerton was married before to a certain Captain Berdmore, and that
she left her first husband during his lifetime under the protection of
Colonel Askerton. I believe they, the Colonel and Mrs Askerton, have
been since married. Captain Berdmore died about four years ago in
India, and it is probable that such a marriage has taken place. But
under these circumstances, as Lady Aylmer says, you will at once
perceive that all acquaintance between you and the lady should be
brought to an end. Indeed, your own sense of what is becoming to you,
either as an unmarried girl or as my future wife, or indeed as a woman
at all, will at once make you feel that this must be so. I think, if I
were you, I would tell the whole to Mr Amedroz; but this I will leave
to your own discretion. I can assure you that Lady Aylmer has full
proof as to the truth of what I tell you.

I go up to London in February. I suppose I may hardly hope to see you
before the recess in July or August; but I trust that before that we
shall have fixed the day when you will make me the happiest of men.

Yours, with truest affection,

F. F. AYLMER.'

It was a disagreeable, nasty letter from the first line to the last.
There was not a word in it which did not grate against Clara's feelings
not a thought expressed which did not give rise to fears as to her
future happiness. But the information which it contained about the
Askertons 'the communication,' as Mrs Askerton herself would have
called it made her for the moment almost forget Lady Aylmer and her
insolence. Could this story be true? And if true, how far would it be
imperative on her to take the hint,, or rather obey the order, which
had been given her? What steps should she take to learn the truth? Then
she remembered Mrs Askerton's promise 'If you want to ask any
questions, and will ask them of me, I will answer them.' The
communication, as to which Mrs Askerton had prophesied, had now been
made but it had been made not by Will Belton, whom Mrs Askerton had
reviled, but by Captain Aylmer, whose praises Mrs Askerton had so
loudly sung. As Clara thought of this, she could not analyse her own
feelings, which were not devoid of a certain triumph. She had known
that Belton would not put on his armour to attack a woman. Captain
Aylmer had done so, and she was hardly surprised at his doing it. Yet
Captain Aylmer was the man she loved! Captain Aylmer was the man she
had promised to marry. But, in truth, she hardly knew which was the man
she loved!

This letter came on a Sunday morning, and on that day she and Belton
went to church together. On the following morning early he was to start
for Taunton. At church they saw Mrs Askerton, whose attendance there
was not very frequent. It seemed, indeed, as though she had come with
the express purpose of seeing Belton once during his visit. As they
left the church she bowed to him, and that was all they saw of each
other throughout the month that he remained in Somersetshire.

'Come to me tomorrow Clara,' Mrs Askerton said as they all passed
through the village together. Clara muttered some reply, having not as
yet made up her mind as to what her conduct must be. Early on the next
morning Will Belton went away, and again Clara got up to give him his
breakfast. On this occasion he had no thought of kissing her. He went
away without having had a word said to him about Mrs Askerton, and then
Clara settled herself down to the work of deliberation. What should she
do with reference to the communication that had been made to her by
Captain Aylmer?

CHAPTER XVII

AYLMER PARK

Aylmer Park and the great house of the Aylmers together formed an
important and, as regarded in some minds, an imposing country
residence. The park was large, including some three or four hundred
acres, and was peopled, rather thinly, by aristocratic deer. It was
surrounded by an aristocratic paling, and was entered, at three
different points, by aristocratic lodges. The sheep were more numerous
than the deer, because Sir Anthony, though he had a large income, was
not in very easy circumstances. The ground was quite flat; and though
there were thin belts of trees, and some ornamental timber here and
there, it was not well wooded. It had no special beauty of its own, and
depended for its imposing qualities chiefly on its size, on its three
sets of double lodges, and on its old established character as an
important family place in the county. The house was of stone, with a
portico of Ionic columns which looked as though it hardly belonged of
right to the edifice, and stretched itself out grandly, with two
pretentious wings, which certainly gave it a just claim to be called a
mansion. It required a great many servants to keep it in order, and the
numerous servants required an experienced duenna, almost as grand in
appearance as Lady Aylmer herself, to keep them in order. There was an
open carriage and a close carriage, and a butler, and two footmen, and
three gamekeepers, and four gardeners, and there was a coachman, and
there were grooms, and sundry inferior men and boys about the place to
do the work which the gardeners and game-keepers and grooms did not
choose to do themselves. And they all became fat, and lazy, and stupid,
and respectable together; so that, as the reader will at once perceive,
Aylmer Park was kept up in the proper English style. Sir Anthony very
often discussed with his steward the propriety of lessening the
expenditure of his residence, and Lady Aylmer always attended and
probably directed these discussions; but it was found that nothing
could be done. Any attempt to remove a gamekeeper or a gardener would
evidently throw the whole machinery of Aylmer Park out of gear. If
retrenchment was necessary Aylmer Park must be abandoned, and the glory
of the Aylmers must be allowed to pale. But things were not so had as
that with Sir Anthony. The gardeners, grooms, and gamekeepers were
maintained; ten domestic servants sat down to four heavy meals in the
servants' hall every day, and Lady Aylmer contented herself with
receiving little or no company, and with stingy breakfasts and bad
dinners for herself and her husband and daughter. By all this it must
be seen that she did her duty as the wife of an English country
gentleman, and properly maintained his rank as a baronet.

He was a heavy man, over seventy years of age, much afflicted with
gout, and given to no pursuit on earth which was available for his
comfort. He had been a hunting man, and he had shot also; but not with
that energy which induces a sportsman to carry on those amusements in
opposition to the impediments of age. He had been, and still was, a
county magistrate; but he had never been very successful in the
justice-room, and now seldom troubled the county with his judicial
incompetence. He had been fond of good dinners and good wine, and
still, on occasions, would make attempts at enjoyment in that line; but
the gout and Lady Aylmer together were too many for him, and he had but
small opportunity for filling up the blanks of his existence out of the
kitchen or cellar. He was a big man, with a broad chest, and a red
face, and a quantity of white hair and was much given to abusing his
servants. He took some pleasure in standing, with two sticks, on the
top of the steps before his own front door, and railing at any one who
came in his way. But he could not do this when Lady Aylmer was by; and
his dependents, knowing his habits, had fallen into an ill-natured way
of deserting the side of the house which he frequented. With his eldest
son, Anthony Aylmer, he was not on very good terms; and though there
was no positive quarrel, the heir did not often come to Aylmer Park. Of
his son Frederic he was proud and the best days of his life were
probably those which Captain Aylmer spent at the house. The table was
then somewhat more generously spread, and this was an excuse for having
up the special port in which he delighted. Altogether his life was not
very attractive; and though he bad been born to a baronetcy, and eight
thousand a-year, and the possession of Aylmer Park, I do not think that
he was, or had been, a happy man.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33