George Eliot's Daniel Deronda: Abridged by Emma Laybourn
Chapter Nine
Some months later, a rumour spread which excited interest in many persons. Just as when a visit of majesty is announced, the dream of knighthood is to be found under various nightcaps, so the news in question raised a vision of marriage in several well-bred imaginations.
The news was that Diplow Hall, Sir Hugo Mallinger’s place, which had for a couple of years been shut up, was to be inhabited in a fitting style. But not by Sir Hugo: by his nephew, Mr. Mallinger Grandcourt, who was presumptive heir to the baronetcy, his uncle’s marriage having produced nothing but girls. Moreover, young Grandcourt’s mother had given a baronial streak to his blood, so that if certain intervening persons died, he would become a baron and peer of the realm.
Some readers will doubtless regard it as incredible that people should construct matrimonial prospects on the mere report that a bachelor of good fortune was coming within reach, and will aver that this is not human nature. But nothing is here narrated of human nature generally: this history concerns only a few people in a corner of Wessex.
There were the Arrowpoints, for example: no one could attribute sordid views about their daughter’s marriage to parents who could leave her at least half a million; but since Catherine had already refused Lord Slogan, an unexceptionable Irish peer, they wondered whether Mr. Grandcourt was good-looking and virtuous, or at least reformed; and without wishing anybody to die, thought his succession to the title an event to be desired.
If the Arrowpoints had such thoughts, it is the less surprising that they were present in Mr. Gascoigne, who despite being a clergyman was not the less subject to the anxieties of a parent and guardian. Naturally, the two families did not discuss these hopes with each other.
To her husband Mrs. Gascoigne said, “I hear Mr. Grandcourt has got two places, but comes to Diplow for the hunting. Have you heard what sort of a young man he is, Henry?”
Mr. Gascoigne had not heard; or if his male acquaintances had gossiped, he was not disposed to repeat their gossip. Whatever Grandcourt had done, he had not ruined himself; and it is well-known that in gambling, for example, a man who has the strength of mind to leave off when he has only ruined others, is a reformed character. This is an illustration merely: Mr. Gascoigne had not heard that Grandcourt had been a gambler; and it was not certain on any other showing that Mr. Grandcourt had needed reformation more than other young men of five-and-thirty.
Mrs. Davilow, too, could not be indifferent to an arrival that might promise a brilliant lot for Gwendolen. Mr. Grandcourt’s name raised in her mind the picture of a handsome, accomplished, excellent young man whom she would be satisfied with as a husband for her daughter; but would Gwendolen be satisfied with him? There was no knowing what would meet that girl’s taste or touch her affections. The mother even said to herself, “It would not signify about her being in love, if she would only accept the right person.” Whatever her own marriage had been, how could she the less desire it for her daughter?
Mrs. Davilow did not let fall a hint of this aerial castle-building which she had the good taste to be ashamed of; for such a hint was likely to make Gwendolen detest the desirable husband beforehand.
The discussion of the dress that Gwendolen was to wear at the Archery Meeting was a relevant topic, however; and when it had been decided that as a touch of colour on her white cashmere, nothing suited her better than pale green, Gwendolen, throwing herself into the attitude of drawing her bow, said with a look of comic enjoyment–
“How I pity all the other girls at the Archery Meeting – all thinking of Mr. Grandcourt! And they have not a shadow of a chance. You know they have not, mamma. You and my uncle and aunt all intend him to fall in love with me.”
Mrs. Davilow, piqued, said, “Oh, my dear, that is not so certain. Miss Arrowpoint has charms which you have not.”
“I know, but they demand thought. My arrow will pierce him before he has time for thought. He will declare himself my slave – I shall send him round the world to bring me back the wedding ring of a happy woman – in the meantime all the men between him and the title will die – he will come back Lord Grandcourt and fall at my feet. I shall laugh at him – he will call for his steed and ride to Quetcham, where he will find Miss Arrowpoint just married to a needy musician.”
Was ever any young witch like this? You sat upon your secret, and all the while she knew exactly what you were sitting on! As well turn the key to keep out the damp!
“Why, what kind of a man do you imagine him to be, Gwendolen?”
“Let me see!” said the witch, with a little frown. “Short – just above my shoulder – trying to make himself tall by turning up his moustache – a glass in his right eye, which will cause him to make horrible faces, especially when he smiles. I shall cast down my eyes, and he will perceive that I am not indifferent to his attentions. I shall dream that night that I am looking at the face of a magnified insect – and the next morning he will make an offer of his hand; the sequel as before.”
“Mr. Grandcourt may be a delightful young man.”
“Oh, yes,” said Gwendolen carelessly. “A delightful young man would have hunters, and a London house and two country-houses – one with battlements and another with a veranda. And I feel sure that with a little murdering he might get a title.”
Poor Mrs. Davilow said, distressed:
“Don’t talk in that way, child, for heaven’s sake! you do read such books. I declare when I was your age I knew nothing about wickedness.”
“Why did you not bring me up in that way, mamma?” said Gwendolen. But immediately perceiving her mother’s crushed look, she knelt at her feet crying–
“Mamma! I was only speaking in fun. I meant nothing. Dear mamma, I don’t find fault with you – I love you. How can you help what I am? Besides, I am very charming. Come, now.” Here Gwendolen gently rubbed away her mother’s tears. “Really, how dreadfully dull you must have been!”
Such tender cajolery quieted the mother, as it had often done before. However, Gwendolen dreaded the unpleasant sense of compunction which was the nearest to self-condemnation that she had known; and Mrs. Davilow’s timid maternal conscience dreaded any reproach. Hence, after this, the two excluded Mr. Grandcourt from their conversation.
When Mr. Gascoigne referred to him, Mrs. Davilow feared lest Gwendolen should betray some of her alarming keen-sightedness about what was probably in her uncle’s mind; but Gwendolen was determined not to clash with her uncle. The good understanding between them was much fostered by their enjoyment of archery together. Mr. Gascoigne was gratified to discover his niece’s skill; and Gwendolen was the more careful not to lose the shelter of his fatherly indulgence, because since the trouble with Rex both Mrs. Gascoigne and Anna had been unreasonably alienated from her. Toward Anna she behaved with regretful affection; but neither of them dared to mention Rex’s name, and Anna was ill at ease with her.
This unfair resentment had rather a hardening effect on Gwendolen, and made her defiant. Her uncle too might be offended if she refused the next person who fell in love with her. But happily, Mr. Middleton was gone without having made any avowal; and Gwendolen had no other suitors.
For not every man who admires a fair girl will be enamoured of her, and not every man who is enamoured will necessarily declare himself. Gwendolen was far from holding supremacy in the minds of all observers. Since not one of the eligible young men in the neighbourhood had made Gwendolen an offer, why should Mr. Grandcourt be thought likely to do it?
Perhaps because a great deal of what passes for likelihood in the world is simply the reflex of a wish. Mr. and Mrs. Arrowpoint, for example, having no anxiety that Miss Harleth should make a brilliant marriage, had quite a different likelihood in their minds.