Part 46 (1/2)

”Devilish hard on Towler, by gad!” said the Major, amused, ”and not pleasant for Lord Levant--he, he!”

”Always knew it was coming, sir. I spoke to you of it Michaelmas was four years: when her Ladys.h.i.+p put the diamonds in p.a.w.n. It was Towler, sir, took 'em in two cabs to Dobree's--and a good deal of the plate went the same way. Don't you remember seeing of it at Blackwall, with the Levant arms and coronick, and Lord Levant settn oppsit to it at the Marquis of Steyne's dinner? Beg your pardon; did I cut you, sir?”

Morgan was now operating upon the Major's chin--he continued the theme while strapping the skilful razor. ”They've took a house in Grosvenor Place, and are coming out strong, sir. Her Ladys.h.i.+p's going to give three parties, besides a dinner a week, sir. Her fortune won't stand it--can't stand it.”

”Gad, she had a devilish good cook when I was at Fairoaks,” the Major said, with very little compa.s.sion for the widow Amory's fortune.

”Marobblan was his name, sir; Marobblan's gone away, sir,” Morgan said,--and the Major, this time, with hearty sympathy, said, ”he was devilish sorry to lose him.”

”There's been a tremenjuous row about that Mosseer Marobblan,”

Morgan continued ”At a ball at Baymouth, sir, bless his impadence, he challenged Mr. Harthur to fight a jewel, sir, which Mr. Arthur was very near knocking him down, and pitchin' him outawinder, and serve him right; but Chevalier Strong, sir, came up and stopped the s.h.i.+ndy--I beg pardon, the holtercation, sir--them French cooks has as much pride and hinsolence as if they was real gentlemen.”

”I heard something of that quarrel,” said the Major; ”but Mirobolant was not turned off for that?”

”No, sir--that affair, sir, which Mr. Harthur forgave it him and beayved most handsome, was hushed hup: it was about Miss Hamory, sir, that he ad is dismissial. Those French fellers, they fancy everybody is in love with 'em; and he climbed up the large grape vine to her winder, sir, and was a trying to get in, when he was caught, sir; and Mr. Strong came out, and they got the garden-engine and played on him, and there was no end of a row, sir.”

”Confound his impudence! You don't mean to say Miss Amory encouraged him,” cried the Major, amazed at a peculiar expression in Mr. Morgan's countenance.

Morgan resumed his imperturbable demeanour. ”Know nothing about it, sir.

Servants don't know them kind of things the least. Most probbly there was nothing in it--so many lies is told about families--Marobblan went away, bag and baggage, saucepans, and pianna, and all--the feller ad a pianna, and wrote potry in French, and he took a lodging at Clavering, and he hankered about the primises, and it was said that Madam Fribsy, the milliner, brought letters to Miss Hamory, though I don't believe a word about it; nor that he tried to pison hisself with charcoal, which it was all a humbug betwigst him and Madam Fribsy; and he was nearly shot by the keeper in the park.”

In the course of that very day, it chanced that the Major had stationed himself in the great window of Bays's Club in Saint James's Street, at the hour in the afternoon when you see a half-score of respectable old bucks similarly recreating themselves (Bays's is rather an old-fas.h.i.+oned place of resort now, and many of its members more than middle-aged; but in the time of the Prince Regent, these old fellows occupied the same window, and were some of the very greatest dandies in this empire)--Major Pendennis was looking from the great window, and spied his nephew Arthur walking down the street in company with his friend Mr.

Popjoy.

”Look!” said Popjoy to Pen, as they pa.s.sed, ”did you ever pa.s.s Bays's at four o'clock, without seeing that collection of old fogies? It's a regular museum. They ought to be cast in wax, and set up at Madame Tussaud's--”

”--In a chamber of old horrors by themselves,” Pen said, laughing.

”--In the chamber of horrors! Gad, doosid good!” Pop cried. ”They are old rogues, most of 'em, and no mistake. There's old Blondel; there's my Uncle Colchic.u.m, the most confounded old sinner in Europe; there's--hullo! there's somebody rapping the window and nodding at us.”

”It's my uncle, the Major,” said Pen. ”Is he an old sinner too?”

”Notorious old rogue,” Pop said, wagging his head. (”Notowious old wogue,” he p.r.o.nounced the words, thereby rendering them much more emphatic.)--”He's beckoning you in; he wants to speak to you.”

”Come in too,” Pen said.

”--Can't,” replied the other. ”Cut uncle Col. two years ago, about Mademoiselle Frangipane--Ta, ta,” and the young sinner took leave of Pen, and the club of the elder criminals, and sauntered into Blacquiere's, an adjacent establishment, frequented by reprobates of his own age.

Colchic.u.m, Blondel, and the senior bucks had just been conversing about the Clavering family, whose appearance in London had formed the subject of Major Pendennis's morning conversation with his valet. Mr. Blondel's house was next to that of Sir Francis Clavering, in Grosvenor Place: giving very good dinners himself, he had remarked some activity in his neighbour's kitchen. Sir Francis, indeed, had a new chef, who had come in more than once and dressed Mr. Blondel's dinner for him; that gentleman having only a remarkably expert female artist permanently engaged in his establishment, and employing such chiefs of note as happened to be free on the occasion of his grand banquets. ”They go to a devilish expense and see devilish bad company as yet, I hear,” Mr.

Blondel said, ”they scour the streets, by gad, to get people to dine with 'em. Champignon says it breaks his heart to serve up a dinner to their society. What a shame it is that those low people should have money at all,” cried Mr. Blondel, whose grandfather had been a reputable leather-breeches maker, and whose father had lent money to the Princes.

”I wish I had fallen in with the widow myself” sighed Lord Colchic.u.m, ”and not been laid up with that confounded gout at Leghorn--I would have married the woman myself.--I'm told she has six hundred thousand pounds in the Threes.”

”Not quite so much as that,--I knew her family in India,”--Major Pendennis said, ”I knew her family in India; her father was an enormously rich old indigo-planter,--know all about her;--Clavering has the next estate to ours in the country.--Ha! there's my nephew walking with”--”With mine,--the infernal young scamp,” said Lord Colchic.u.m glowering at Popjoy out of his heavy eyebrows; and he turned away from the window as Major Pendennis tapped upon it.

The Major was in high good-humour. The sun was bright, the air brisk and invigorating. He had determined upon a visit to Lady Clavering on that day, and bethought him that Arthur would be a good companion for the walk across the Green Park to her ladys.h.i.+p's door. Master Pen was not displeased to accompany his ill.u.s.trious relative, who pointed out a dozen great men in that brief transit through St. James's Street, and got bows from a Duke at a crossing, a Bishop (on a cob), and a Cabinet Minister with an umbrella. The Duke gave the elder Pendennis a finger of a pipe-clayed glove to shake, which the Major embraced with great veneration; and all Pen's blood tingled as he found himself in actual communication, as it were, with this famous man (for Pen had possession of the Major's left arm, whilst the gentleman's other wing was engaged with his Grace's right) and he wished all Grey Friars' School, all Oxbridge University, all Paternoster Row and the Temple and Laura and his mother at Fairoaks, could be standing on each side of the street, to see the meeting between him and his uncle, and the most famous duke in Christendom.

”How do, Pendennis?--fine day,” were his Grace's remarkable words, and with a nod of his august head he pa.s.sed on--in a blue frock-coat and spotless white duck trousers, in a white stock, with a s.h.i.+ning buckle behind.