Davenport Dunn, a Man of Our Day. Volume 1

“Lord-Lieutenant!” said Molly, opening her eyes to the fullest.

“Even so, ma belle. Shall we rehearse the ceremony of presentation? Twining, do you perform the Chamberlain. Stand aside, O’Reilly; be a gentleman at large, or an Ulster King-at-arms. Now for it!” And so saying, he drew himself proudly up to an attitude of considerable dignity, while Twining, muttering to himself, “What fun!” announced aloud, “Miss Molly O’Reilly, your Excellency;” at which, and before she was aware, his Excellency stepped one step in advance, and sainted her on either cheek with a cordiality that covered her with blushes.

“That ‘s not it, at all, I ‘m certain,” said she, half angrily.

“On my life, it’s the exact ceremony, and no more,” said the Viscount. Then resuming the performance, he added, “Take care, Twining, that she is put on your list for the balls. O’Reilly, your niece is charming.”

“My niece – sure she ‘s – ”

“You forget, my worthy friend, that we are enacting Viceroy, and cannot charge our memory with the ties of kindred.”

Spicer now came up to say that a thunderstorm was threatening, and that the wisest course would probably be to land the luncheon and remain where they were till the hurricane should pass over. The proposition was at once approved of, and the party were soon busily occupying themselves in the cares for the entertainment; all agreeing that they felt no regret at being separated from the other boat, which had proceeded up the lake; in fact, as Mr. O’Reilly said, “they were snugger as they were, without the Roosians,” – a sentiment in various ways acknowledged by the rest.

Strange freemasonry is there in conviviality. The little preparations for this picnic dinner disseminated amidst them all the fellowship of old acquaintance, and, as they assisted and aided each other, a degree of kindliness grew up that bound them together like a family. Each vied with each in displaying his power of usefulness and agreeability; even the noble Viscount, who actually did nothing what-ever, so simulated occupation and activity that he was regarded by all as the very life and soul of the party. And yet we are unjust in saying he did nothing; for he it was who, by the happy charm of his manner, the ready tact of a consummate man of the world, imparted to the meeting its great success. Unused to the agreeable qualities of such men, O’Reilly felt all the astonishment that great conversational gifts inspire, and sat amazed and delighted at the stores of pleasant stories, witty remarks, and acute observations poured out before him.

He knew nothing of the skill by which these abilities were guided, nor how, like cunning shopkeepers dressing their wares to most advantage, such men exhibit their qualities with all the artifice of display. He never suspected the subtle flattery by which he was led to fancy himself the intimate of men whose names were freely talked of before him, till at length the atmosphere of the great world was to him like the air he had breathed from childhood.

“How the Prince would have relished O’Reilly!” said the Viscount to Twining, in a whisper easily overheard. “That racy humor, that strong native common-sense, that vigorous disregard of petty obstacles wherever he is bent on following out a path, – his royal Highness would have appreciated all these.”

“Unquestionably – been charmed with them – thought him most agreeable – great fun.”

“You remind me of O’Kelly, – Colonel O’Kelly, – O’Reilly; strange enough, too, each of you should be of that same old Celtic blood. But, perhaps, it is just that very element that gives you the peculiar social fascination I was alluding to. You are not old enough, Twining, to remember that small house with the bay-windows opening on the Birdcage Walk; it was like a country parsonage dropped down in the midst of London, with honeysuckles over the porch, and peacocks on the lawn in front of it. O’Kelly and Payne lived there together, – the two pleasantest bachelors that ever joined in partnership. The Prince dined with them by agreement every Friday. The charm of the thing was no state, no parade, whatever. It was just as if O’Reilly here were to take this villa, and say, ‘Now, Lackington, I am rich enough to enjoy myself; I don’t want the worry and fatigue of hunting out the pleasant people of the world; but you know them all, you understand them, – their ways, their wants, and their requirements; just tell me, frankly, could n’t we manage to make this their rallying-spot throughout Europe? Settled down here in the midst of the most lovely scenery in the world, with a good cook and a good cellar, might not this place become a perfect Paradise?’”

“If I only knew that your Lordship, just yourself alone, and, of course, the present company,” added O’Reilly, with a bow round the table, “would vouchsafe me the honor of a visit, I’d be proud to be the owner of this place to-morrow. Indeed, I don’t see why we would n’t be as well here as traipsing over the world in dust and heat. If, then, the girls see no objection – ”

“I should like it of all things, papa,” broke in Miss O’Reilly.

“I am charmed with the very thought of it,” cried Molly.

“Capital thought – romantic notion – save any amount of money, and no taxes,” muttered Twining.

“There’s no approach by land whatever,” said Spicer, who foresaw that all his horse capabilities would receive no development here.

“All the better,” broke in Twining; “no interlopers – no fellows cantering down to luncheon, or driving over to dine – must come by boat, and be seen an hour beforehand.”

“If I know anything of my friend here,” said the Viscount, “his taste will rather lie in the fashion of a warm welcome than a polite denial to a visitor. You must talk to Lanfranchi about the place to-morrow, O’Reilly. He ‘s a shrewd fellow, and knows how to go about these things.”

“Faith, my Lord, I see everything in sunshine so long as I sit in such company. It’s the very genial kind of thing I like. A few friends – if I ‘m not taking too great a liberty – ”

“No, by no means, O’Reilly. The esteem I feel for you, and that Twining feels for you “ – here his Lordship looked over at Spicer and slightly nodded, as though to say, “There is another there who requires no formal mention in the deed “ – “are not passing sentiments, and we sincerely desire they may be accepted as true friendship.”

“To be sure – unquestionably – great regard – unbounded admiration – what fun!” muttered Twining, half aloud.

The evening wore along in pleasant projects for the future. Spicer had undertaken to provide workmen and artificers of various kinds to repair and decorate the villa and its grounds. He knew of such a gardener, too; and he thought, by a little bribery and a trip down to Naples, he might seduce the Prince of Syracuse’s cook, – a Sicilian, worth all the Frenchmen in the world for an ultramontane “cuisine.” In fact, ere the bright moonlight on the lake reminded them of their journey homeward, they had arranged a plan of existence for the O’Reillys almost Elysian in its enjoyments.

Few things develop more imaginative powers than the description of a mode of life wherein “money is no object,” and wishing and having are convertible terms. Let a number of people – the least gifted though they be with the graces of fancy – so picture forth such an existence, and see how, by the mere multiplication of various tastes, they will end by creating a most voluptuous and splendid tableau. O’Reilly’s counsellors were rather adepts in their way, and certainly they did not forget one single ingredient of pleasure; till, when the boat glided into the little bay of the D’Este, such a story of a life was sketched out as nothing out of fairy-land could rival.

“I ‘ll have it, my Lord; the place is as good as mine this minute,” said O’Reilly, as he stepped on shore; and as he spoke his heart thrilled with the concentrated delights of a whole life of happiness.

CHAPTER X. A “SMALL DINNER”

Lady Lackington and Lady Grace Twining passed the morning together. Their husbands’ departure on the picnic excursion offered them a suitable subject to discuss those gentlemen, and they improved the occasion to some purpose.

The Viscountess did not, indeed, lean very heavily on her Lord’s failings; they were, as she described them, the harmless follies of certain middle-aged gentlemen, who, despite time and years, would still be charming and fascinating. “He likes those little easy conquests he is so sure of amongst vulgar people,” said she. “He affects only to be amused by them, but he actually likes them; and then, as he never indulges in this sort of thing except in out-of-the-way places, why, there ‘s no great harm in it.”

Lady Grace agreed with her, and sighed. She sighed, because she thought of her own burden, and how far more heavily it pressed. Twining’s were no little foibles, no small weaknesses; none of his faults had their root in any easy self-deceptions. Everything he did or said or thought was maturely weighed and considered; his gay, laughing manner, his easy, light-hearted gesticulation, his ready concurrence in the humor about him, were small coin that he scattered freely while he pondered over heavy investments.

From long experience of his crafty, double-dealing nature, coupled with something very near aversion to him, Lady Grace had grown to believe that in all he said or did some unseen motive lay, and she brought herself to believe that even his avaricious and miserly habits were practised still less for the sake of saving than for some ulterior and secret end.

Of the wretched life they led she drew a dreary picture: a mock splendor for the world, a real misery at home; all the outward semblance of costly living, all the internal consciousness of meanness and privation. He furnished houses with magnificence, that he might let them; he set up splendid equipages, that, when seen, they should be sold. “My very emeralds,” said she, “were admired and bought by the Duchess of Windermere. It is very difficult to say that there is anything out of which he cannot extract a profit. If my ponies were praised in the park, I knew it was only the prelude to their being at Tattersall’s in the morning; even the camellia which I wore in my hair was turned to advantage, for it sold the conservatory that raised it. And yet they tell me that if – they say that – I mean – I am told that the law would not construe these as cruelty, but simply a very ordinary exercise of marital authority, something unpleasant, perhaps, but not enough to warrant complaint, still less resistance.”

“But they are cruelties,” broke in Lady Lackington; “men in Mr. Twining’s rank of life do not beat their wives – ”

“No, they only break their hearts,” sighed Lady Grace; “and this, I believe, is perfectly legal.”

“They were doing, or going to do, something about that t’ other day in the Lords. That dear old man, Lord Cloudeslie, had a bill or an amendment to somebody’s bill, by which – I ‘m not sure I ‘m quite correct about it – but I believe it gave the wife power to take her settlement. No, that is not it; she was to be able, after five years of great cruelty – I’m afraid I have no clear recollection of its provisions, but I know the odious Chancellor said it would effectually make women independent of men.”

“Of course it never will become law, then,” sighed Lady Grace, again.

“Who knows, dear? They are always passing something or other they ‘re sorry for afterwards in either House. Shall I tell you who’d know all about it? – that Mr. Davenport Dunn. He is just the kind of person to understand these things.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Lady Grace, with more animation in her manner.

“Let as ask him to dinner,” said Lady Lackington; “I know him sufficiently to do so, – that is, I have met him once. He ‘ll be charmed, of course; and if there is anything very good and very safe to be done on the Bourse, he ‘ll certainly tell us.”

“I don’t care for the Bourse. Indeed, I have nothing to speculate with.”

“That is the best reason in the world, my dear, to make a venture; at least, so my brother-in-law, Annesley, says. You are certain to come out a winner, and in my own brief experiences, I never gave anything, – I only said, ‘Yes, I ‘ll have the shares.’ They were at fifty-eight and three-quarters, they said, and sure to be at sixty-four or five; and they actually did rise to seventy, and then we sold – that is, Dunn did – and remitted me twelve hundred and fifty-three pounds odd.”

“I wish he could be equally fortunate with me. I don’t mean as regards money,” said Lady Grace; and her cheek became crimson as she spoke.

“I have always said there’s a fate in these things; and who knows if his being here Just at this moment is not a piece of destiny.”

“It might be so,” said the other, sadly.

“There,” said Lady Lackington, as she rapidly wrote a few lines on a piece of note-paper, “that ought to do: —

“‘Dear Mr. Dunn, – If you will accept of an early dinner, with Lady Grace Twining and myself for the company, to-day, you will much oblige

“‘Your truly,

“‘Georgina Lackington.’”

“To another kind of man I’d have said something about two pauvres femmes délaissées, but he ‘d have been frightened, and probably not come.”

“Probably,” said Lady Grace, with a sigh.

“Now, let us try the success of this.” And she rang a bell, and despatched the note.