Little Lord Fauntleroy by Frances Hodgson Burnett
XII
A very few days after the dinner party at the Castle, almost everybodyin England who read the newspapers at all knew the romantic story ofwhat had happened at Dorincourt. It made a very interesting story whenit was told with all the details. There was the little American boy whohad been brought to England to be Lord Fauntleroy, and who was said tobe so fine and handsome a little fellow, and to have already made peoplefond of him; there was the old Earl, his grandfather, who was so proudof his heir; there was the pretty young mother who had never beenforgiven for marrying Captain Errol; and there was the strange marriageof Bevis, the dead Lord Fauntleroy, and the strange wife, of whom no oneknew anything, suddenly appearing with her son, and saying that he wasthe real Lord Fauntleroy and must have his rights. All these things weretalked about and written about, and caused a tremendous sensation. Andthen there came the rumor that the Earl of Dorincourt was not satisfiedwith the turn affairs had taken, and would perhaps contest the claim bylaw, and the matter might end with a wonderful trial.
There never had been such excitement before in the county in whichErleboro was situated. On market-days, people stood in groups and talkedand wondered what would be done; the farmers' wives invited one anotherto tea that they might tell one another all they had heard and allthey thought and all they thought other people thought. They relatedwonderful anecdotes about the Earl's rage and his determination not toacknowledge the new Lord Fauntleroy, and his hatred of the woman who wasthe claimant's mother. But, of course, it was Mrs. Dibble who could tellthe most, and who was more in demand than ever.
"An' a bad lookout it is," she said. "An' if you were to ask me, ma'am,I should say as it was a judgment on him for the way he's treated thatsweet young cre'tur' as he parted from her child,--for he's got thatfond of him an' that set on him an' that proud of him as he's a'mostdrove mad by what's happened. An' what's more, this new one's no lady,as his little lordship's ma is. She's a bold-faced, black-eyed thing,as Mr. Thomas says no gentleman in livery 'u'd bemean hisself to be gaveorders by; and let her come into the house, he says, an' he goes out ofit. An' the boy don't no more compare with the other one than nothin'you could mention. An' mercy knows what's goin' to come of it all, an'where it's to end, an' you might have knocked me down with a featherwhen Jane brought the news."
In fact there was excitement everywhere at the Castle: in the library,where the Earl and Mr. Havisham sat and talked; in the servants' hall,where Mr. Thomas and the butler and the other men and women servantsgossiped and exclaimed at all times of the day; and in the stables,where Wilkins went about his work in a quite depressed state ofmind, and groomed the brown pony more beautifully than ever, and saidmournfully to the coachman that he "never taught a young gen'leman toride as took to it more nat'ral, or was a better-plucked one than hewas. He was a one as it were some pleasure to ride behind."
But in the midst of all the disturbance there was one person who wasquite calm and untroubled. That person was the little Lord Fauntleroywho was said not to be Lord Fauntleroy at all. When first the state ofaffairs had been explained to him, he had felt some little anxiousnessand perplexity, it is true, but its foundation was not in baffledambition.
While the Earl told him what had happened, he had sat on a stool holdingon to his knee, as he so often did when he was listening to anythinginteresting; and by the time the story was finished he looked quitesober.
"It makes me feel very queer," he said; "it makes me feel--queer!"
The Earl looked at the boy in silence. It made him feel queer,too--queerer than he had ever felt in his whole life. And he felt morequeer still when he saw that there was a troubled expression on thesmall face which was usually so happy.
"Will they take Dearest's house from her--and her carriage?" Cedricasked in a rather unsteady, anxious little voice.
"NO!" said the Earl decidedly--in quite a loud voice, in fact. "They cantake nothing from her."
"Ah!" said Cedric, with evident relief. "Can't they?"
Then he looked up at his grandfather, and there was a wistful shade inhis eyes, and they looked very big and soft.
"That other boy," he said rather tremulously--"he will have to--to beyour boy now--as I was--won't he?"
"NO!" answered the Earl--and he said it so fiercely and loudly thatCedric quite jumped.
"No?" he exclaimed, in wonderment. "Won't he? I thought----"
He stood up from his stool quite suddenly.
"Shall I be your boy, even if I'm not going to be an earl?" he said."Shall I be your boy, just as I was before?" And his flushed little facewas all alight with eagerness.
How the old Earl did look at him from head to foot, to be sure! How hisgreat shaggy brows did draw themselves together, and how queerly hisdeep eyes shone under them--how very queerly!
"My boy!" he said--and, if you'll believe it, his very voice was queer,almost shaky and a little broken and hoarse, not at all what youwould expect an Earl's voice to be, though he spoke more decidedly andperemptorily even than before,--"Yes, you'll be my boy as long as Ilive; and, by George, sometimes I feel as if you were the only boy I hadever had."
Cedric's face turned red to the roots of his hair; it turned red withrelief and pleasure. He put both his hands deep into his pockets andlooked squarely into his noble relative's eyes.
"Do you?" he said. "Well, then, I don't care about the earl part at all.I don't care whether I'm an earl or not. I thought--you see, I thoughtthe one that was going to be the Earl would have to be your boy, too,and--and I couldn't be. That was what made me feel so queer."
The Earl put his hand on his shoulder and drew him nearer.
"They shall take nothing from you that I can hold for you," he said,drawing his breath hard. "I won't believe yet that they can takeanything from you. You were made for the place, and--well, you mayfill it still. But whatever comes, you shall have all that I can giveyou--all!"
It scarcely seemed as if he were speaking to a child, there was suchdetermination in his face and voice; it was more as if he were making apromise to himself--and perhaps he was.
He had never before known how deep a hold upon him his fondness for theboy and his pride in him had taken. He had never seen his strength andgood qualities and beauty as he seemed to see them now. To his obstinatenature it seemed impossible--more than impossible--to give up what hehad so set his heart upon. And he had determined that he would not giveit up without a fierce struggle.
Within a few days after she had seen Mr. Havisham, the woman who claimedto be Lady Fauntleroy presented herself at the Castle, and brought herchild with her. She was sent away. The Earl would not see her, she wastold by the footman at the door; his lawyer would attend to her case.It was Thomas who gave the message, and who expressed his opinion of herfreely afterward, in the servants' hall. He "hoped," he said, "as he hadwore livery in 'igh famblies long enough to know a lady when he see one,an' if that was a lady he was no judge o' females."
"The one at the Lodge," added Thomas loftily, "'Merican or no 'Merican,she's one o' the right sort, as any gentleman 'u'd reckinize with all aheye. I remarked it myself to Henery when fust we called there."
The woman drove away; the look on her handsome, common face halffrightened, half fierce. Mr. Havisham had noticed, during his interviewswith her, that though she had a passionate temper, and a coarse,insolent manner, she was neither so clever nor so bold as she meant tobe; she seemed sometimes to be almost overwhelmed by the position inwhich she had placed herself. It was as if she had not expected to meetwith such opposition.
"She is evidently," the lawyer said to Mrs. Errol, "a person from thelower walks of life. She is uneducated and untrained in everything, andquite unused to meeting people like ourselves on any terms of equality.She does not know what to do. Her visit to the Castle quite cowed her.She was infuriated, but she was cowed. The Earl would not receive her,but I advised him to go with me to the Dorincourt Arms, where she isstaying. When she saw him enter the room, she turned white, though sheflew into a rage a
The fact was that the Earl had stalked into the room and stood, lookinglike a venerable aristocratic giant, staring at the woman from under hisbeetling brows, and not condescending a word. He simply stared at her,taking her in from head to foot as if she were some repulsive curiosity.He let her talk and demand until she was tired, without himself utteringa word, and then he said:
"You say you are my eldest son's wife. If that is true, and if the proofyou offer is too much for us, the law is on your side. In that case,your boy is Lord Fauntleroy. The matter will be sifted to the bottom,you may rest assured. If your claims are proved, you will be providedfor. I want to see nothing of either you or the child so long as I live.The place will unfortunately have enough of you after my death. Youare exactly the kind of person I should have expected my son Bevis tochoose."
And then he turned his back upon her and stalked out of the room as hehad stalked into it.
Not many days after that, a visitor was announced to Mrs. Errol, who waswriting in her little morning room. The maid, who brought the message,looked rather excited; her eyes were quite round with amazement, infact, and being young and inexperienced, she regarded her mistress withnervous sympathy.
"It's the Earl hisself, ma'am!" she said in tremulous awe.
When Mrs. Errol entered the drawing-room, a very tall, majestic-lookingold man was standing on the tiger-skin rug. He had a handsome, grim oldface, with an aquiline profile, a long white mustache, and an obstinatelook.
"Mrs. Errol, I believe?" he said.
"Mrs. Errol," she answered.
"I am the Earl of Dorincourt," he said.
He paused a moment, almost unconsciously, to look into her upliftedeyes. They were so like the big, affectionate, childish eyes he had seenuplifted to his own so often every day during the last few months, thatthey gave him a quite curious sensation.
"The boy is very like you," he said abruptly.
"It has been often said so, my lord," she replied, "but I have been gladto think him like his father also."
As Lady Lorridaile had told him, her voice was very sweet, and hermanner was very simple and dignified. She did not seem in the leasttroubled by his sudden coming.
"Yes," said the Earl, "he is like--my son--too." He put his hand up tohis big white mustache and pulled it fiercely. "Do you know," he said,"why I have come here?"
"I have seen Mr. Havisham," Mrs. Errol began, "and he has told me of theclaims which have been made----"
"I have come to tell you," said the Earl, "that they will beinvestigated and contested, if a contest can be made. I have come totell you that the boy shall be defended with all the power of the law.His rights----"
The soft voice interrupted him.
"He must have nothing that is NOT his by right, even if the law can giveit to him," she said.
"Unfortunately the law can not," said the Earl. "If it could, it should.This outrageous woman and her child----"
"Perhaps she cares for him as much as I care for Cedric, my lord," saidlittle Mrs. Errol. "And if she was your eldest son's wife, her son isLord Fauntleroy, and mine is not."
She was no more afraid of him than Cedric had been, and she looked athim just as Cedric would have looked, and he, having been an old tyrantall his life, was privately pleased by it. People so seldom dared todiffer from him that there was an entertaining novelty in it.
"I suppose," he said, scowling slightly, "that you would much preferthat he should not be the Earl of Dorincourt."
Her fair young face flushed.
"It is a very magnificent thing to be the Earl of Dorincourt, my lord,"she said. "I know that, but I care most that he should be what hisfather was--brave and just and true always."
"In striking contrast to what his grandfather was, eh?" said hislordship sardonically.
"I have not had the pleasure of knowing his grandfather," replied Mrs.Errol, "but I know my little boy believes----" She stopped short amoment, looking quietly into his face, and then she added, "I know thatCedric loves you."
"Would he have loved me," said the Earl dryly, "if you had told him whyI did not receive you at the Castle?"
"No," answered Mrs. Errol, "I think not. That was why I did not wish himto know."
"Well," said my lord brusquely, "there are few women who would not havetold him."
He suddenly began to walk up and down the room, pulling his greatmustache more violently than ever.
"Yes, he is fond of me," he said, "and I am fond of him. I can't say Iever was fond of anything before. I am fond of him. He pleased me fromthe first. I am an old man, and was tired of my life. He has given mesomething to live for. I am proud of him. I was satisfied to think ofhis taking his place some day as the head of the family."
He came back and stood before Mrs. Errol.
"I am miserable," he said. "Miserable!"
He looked as if he was. Even his pride could not keep his voice steadyor his hands from shaking. For a moment it almost seemed as if his deep,fierce eyes had tears in them. "Perhaps it is because I am miserablethat I have come to you," he said, quite glaring down at her. "I usedto hate you; I have been jealous of you. This wretched, disgracefulbusiness has changed that. After seeing that repulsive woman who callsherself the wife of my son Bevis, I actually felt it would be a reliefto look at you. I have been an obstinate old fool, and I suppose I havetreated you badly. You are like the boy, and the boy is the first objectin my life. I am miserable, and I came to you merely because you arelike the boy, and he cares for you, and I care for him. Treat me as wellas you can, for the boy's sake."
He said it all in his harsh voice, and almost roughly, but somehow heseemed so broken down for the time that Mrs. Errol was touched to theheart. She got up and moved an arm-chair a little forward.
"I wish you would sit down," she said in a soft, pretty, sympatheticway. "You have been so much troubled that you are very tired, and youneed all your strength."
It was just as new to him to be spoken to and cared for in that gentle,simple way as it was to be contradicted. He was reminded of "the boy"again, and he actually did as she asked him. Perhaps his disappointmentand wretchedness were good discipline for him; if he had not beenwretched he might have continued to hate her, but just at present hefound her a little soothing. Almost anything would have seemed pleasantby contrast with Lady Fauntleroy; and this one had so sweet a face andvoice, and a pretty dignity when she spoke or moved. Very soon, throughthe quiet magic of these influences, he began to feel less gloomy, andthen he talked still more.
"Whatever happens," he said, "the boy shall be provided for. He shall betaken care of, now and in the future."
Before he went away, he glanced around the room.
"Do you like the house?" he demanded.
"Very much," she answered.
"This is a cheerful room," he said. "May I come here again and talk thismatter over?"
"As often as you wish, my lord," she replied.
And then he went out to his carriage and drove away, Thomas and Henryalmost stricken dumb upon the box at the turn affairs had taken.