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The Eustace Diamonds

A >> Anthony Trollope >> The Eustace Diamonds




"You and he would settle everything in five minutes, and it would save me
a world of trouble," said Eustace.

"Fawn is your man; take my word for it," said Greystock, as he walked back
into the House.

* * * * *

Dramatists, when they write their plays, have a delightful privilege of
prefixing a list of their personages; and the dramatists of old used to
tell us who was in love with whom, and what were the blood relationships
of all the persons. In such a narrative as this, any proceeding of that
kind would be unusual, and therefore the poor narrator has been driven to
expend his four first chapters in the mere task of introducing his
characters. He regrets the length of these introductions, and will now
begin at once the action of his story.




CHAPTER V

THE EUSTACE NECKLACE


John Eustace, Lady Eustace's brother-in-law, had told his friend
Greystock, the lady's cousin, that Mr. Camperdown the lawyer intended to
"jump upon" that lady. Making such allowance and deduction from the force
of these words as the slang expression requires, we may say that John
Eustace was right. Mr. Camperdown was in earnest, and did intend to obtain
the restoration of those jewels. Mr. Camperdown was a gentleman of about
sixty, who had been lawyer to Sir Florian's father, and whose father had
been lawyer to Sir Florian's grandfather. His connection with the property
and with the family was of a nature to allow him to take almost any
liberty with the Eustaces. When therefore John Eustace, in regard to those
diamonds, had pleaded that the heir in his long minority would obtain
ample means of buying more diamonds, and of suggesting that the plunder
for the sake of tranquillity should be allowed, Mr. Camperdown took upon
himself to say that he'd "be ---- if he'd put up with it."

"I really don't know what you are to do," said John Eustace.

"I'll file a bill in Chancery, if it's necessary," said the old lawyer.
"Heaven on earth! as trustee how are you to reconcile yourself to such a
robbery? They represent £500 a year forever, and she is to have them
simply because she chooses to take them!"

"I suppose Florian could have given them away. At any rate, he could have
sold them."

"I don't know that," said Mr. Camperdown. "I have not looked as yet, but I
think that this necklace has been made an heirloom. At any rate, it
represents an amount of property that shouldn't and couldn't be made over
legally without some visible evidence of transfer. It's as clear a case of
stealing as I ever knew in my life, and as bad a case. She hadn't a
farthing, and she has got the whole of the Ayrshire property for her life.
She goes about and tells everybody that it's hers to sell to-morrow if she
pleases to sell it. No, John"--Mr. Camperdown had known Eustace when he
was a boy, and had watched him become a man, and hadn't yet learned to
drop the name by which he had called the boy--"we mustn't allow it. What
do you think of her applying to me for an income to support her child, a
baby not yet two years old?" Mr. Camperdown had been very adverse to all
the circumstances of Sir Florian's marriage, and had subjected himself to
Sir Florian's displeasure for expressing his opinion. He had tried to
explain that as the lady brought no money into the family she was not
entitled to such a jointure as Sir Florian was determined to lavish upon
her. But Sir Florian had been obstinate, both in regard to the settlement
and the will. It was not till after Sir Florian's death that this terrible
master of the jewels had even suggested itself to Mr. Camperdown. The
jewellers in whose custody the things had been since the death of the late
Lady Eustace had mentioned the affair to him immediately on the young
widow's return from Naples. Sir Florian had withdrawn, not all the jewels,
but by far the most valuable of them, from the jewellers' care on his
return to London from their marriage tour to Scotland, and this was the
result. The jewellers were at that time without any doubt as to the date
at which the necklace was taken from them.

Mr. Camperdown's first attempt was made by a most courteous and even
complimentary note, in which he suggested to Lady Eustace that it would be
for the advantage of all parties that the family jewels should be kept
together. Lizzie, as she read this note, smiled, and said to herself that
she did not exactly see how her own interests would be best served by such
an arrangement. She made no answer to Mr. Camperdown's note. Some months
after this, when the heir was born, and as Lady Eustace was passing
through London on her journey from Bobsborough to Portray, a meeting had
been arranged between her and Mr. Camperdown. She had endeavoured by all
the wiles she knew to avoid this meeting, but it had been forced upon her.
She had been almost given to understand that unless she submitted to it,
she would not be able to draw her income from the Portray property.
Messrs. Mowbray & Mopus had advised her to submit. "My husband gave me a
necklace, and they want me to give it back," she had said to Mr. Mopus.
"Do nothing of the kind," Mr. Mopus had replied. "If you find it
necessary, refer Mr. Camperdown to us. We will answer him." The interview
had taken place, during which Mr. Camperdown took the trouble to explain
very plainly and more than once that the income from the Portray property
belonged to Lady Eustace for her life only. It would after her death be
rejoined, of necessity, to the rest of the Eustace property. This was
repeated to Lady Eustace in the presence of John Eustace; but she made no
remark on being so informed. "You understand the nature of the settlement,
Lady Eustace?" Mr. Camperdown had said. "I believe I understand
everything," she replied. Then, just at the close of the interview, he
asked a question about the jewels. Lady Eustace at first made no reply.
"They might as well be sent back to Messrs. Garnett," said Mr. Camperdown.
"I don't know that I have any to send back," she answered; and then she
escaped before Mr. Camperdown was able to arrange any further attack. "I
can manage with her better by letter than I can personally," he said to
John Eustace.

Lawyers such as Mr. Camperdown are slow, and it was three or four months
after that when he wrote a letter in his own name to Lady Eustace,
explaining to her, still courteously, that it was his business to see that
the property of the Eustace family was placed in fit hands, and that a
certain valuable necklace of diamonds, which was an heirloom of the
family, and which was undeniably the property of the heir, was believed to
be in her custody. As such property was peculiarly subject to risks, would
she have the kindness to make arrangements for handing over the necklace
to the custody of the Messrs. Garnett? To this letter Lizzie made no
answer whatever, nor did she to a second note, calling attention to the
first. When John Eustace told Greystock that. Camperdown intended to "jump
upon" Lady Eustace, the following further letter had been written by the
firm, but up to that time Lizzie had not replied to it:

"62 NEW SQUARE, LINCOLN'S INN,

"5 MAY, 186-.

"MADAM: It is our duty as attorneys acting on behalf of the estate of your
late husband, Sir Florian Eustace, and in the interest of your son, his
heir, to ask for restitution of a certain valuable diamond necklace which
is believed to be now in the possession of your ladyship. Our senior
partner, Mr. Camperdown, has written to your ladyship more than once on
the subject, but has not been honoured with any reply. Doubtless had there
been any mistake as to the necklace being in your hands we would have been
so informed. The diamonds were withdrawn from Messrs. Garnett, the
jewellers, by Sir Florian soon after his marriage, and were, no doubt,
intrusted to your keeping. They are appanages of the family which should
not be in your hands as the widow of the late baronet, and they constitute
an amount of property which certainly cannot be alienated from the family
without inquiry or right, as might any trifling article either of use or
ornament. The jewels are valued at over £10,000.

"We are reluctantly compelled, by the fact of your having left unanswered
three letters from Mr. Camperdown, Senior, on the subject, to explain to
you that if attention be not paid to this letter, we shall be obliged, in
the performance of our duty, to take legal steps for the restitution of
the property.

"We have the honour to be, Madam,

"Your ladyship's most obedient servants,

"CAMPERDOWN & SON.

"To LADY EUSTACE," etc., etc.

A few days after it was sent, old Mr. Camperdown got the letter-book of
the office and read the letter to John Eustace.

"I don't see how you're to get them," said Eustace.

"We'll throw upon her the burden of showing that they have become legally
her property. She can't do it."

"Suppose she sold them?"

"We'll follow them up. Ten thousand pounds, my dear John! God bless my
soul! it's a magnificent dowry for a daughter--an ample provision for a
younger son. And she is to be allowed to filch it, as other widows filch
china cups and a silver teaspoon or two! It's quite a common thing, but I
never heard of such a haul as this."

"It will be very unpleasant," said Eustace.

"And then she still goes about everywhere declaring that the Portray
property is her own. She's a bad lot. I knew it from the first. Of course
we shall have trouble." Then Mr. Eustace explained to the lawyer that
their best way out of it all would be to get the widow married to some
respectable husband. She was sure to marry sooner or later, so John
Eustace said, and any "decently decent" fellow would be easier to deal
with than she herself. "He must be very indecently indecent if he is not,"
said Mr. Camperdown. But Mr. Eustace did not name Frank Graystock the
barrister as the probable future decent husband.

When Lizzie first got the letter, which she did on the day after the visit
at Fawn Court of which mention has been made, she put it by unread for a
couple of days. She opened it, not knowing the clerk's handwriting, but
read only the first line and the signature. For two days she went on with
the ordinary affairs and amusements of her life, as though no such letter
had reached her; but was thinking of it all the time. The diamonds were in
her possession, and she had had them valued by her old friend Mr. Benjamin
of the firm of Harter & Benjamin. Mr. Benjamin had suggested that stones
of such a value should not be left to the risk of an ordinary London
house; but Lizzie had felt that if Mr. Benjamin got them into his hands,
Mr. Benjamin might perhaps not return them. Messrs. Camperdown and Garnett
between them might form a league with Mr. Benjamin. Where would she be,
should Mr. Benjamin tell her that under some legal sanction he had given
the jewels up to Mr. Camperdown? She hinted to Mr. Benjamin that she would
perhaps sell them if she got a good offer. Mr. Benjamin, who was very
familiar with her, hinted that there might be a little family difficulty.
"Oh, none in the least," said Lizzie; "but I don't think I shall part with
them." Then she gave Mr. Benjamin an order for a strong box, which was
supplied to her. The strong box, which was so heavy that she could barely
lift it herself, was now in her London bedroom.

On the morning of the third day she read the letter. Miss Macnulty was
staying with her, but she had not said a word to Miss Macnulty about the
letter. She read it up in her own bedroom and then sat down to think about
it. Sir Florian, as he had handed to her the stones for the purpose of a
special dinner party which had been given to them when passing through
London, had told her that they were family jewels. "That setting was done
for my mother," he said, "but it is already old. When we are at home again
they shall be reset." Then he had added some little husband's joke as to a
future daughter-in-law who should wear them. Nevertheless she was not sure
whether the fact of their being so handed to her did not make them her
own. She had spoken a second time to Mr. Mopus, and Mr. Mopus had asked
her whether there existed any family deed as to the diamonds. She had
heard of no such deed, nor did Mr. Camperdown mention such a deed. After
reading the letter once she read it a dozen times; and then, like a woman,
made up her mind that her safest course would be not to answer it.

But yet she felt sure that something unpleasant would come of it. Mr.
Camperdown was not a man to take up such a question and let it drop. Legal
steps! What did legal steps mean, and what could they do to her? Would Mr.
Camperdown be able to put her in prison, or to take away from her the
estate of Portray? She could swear that her husband had given them to her,
and could invent any form of words she pleased as accompanying the gift.
No one else had been near them then. But she was, and felt herself to be
absolutely, alarmingly ignorant, not only of the laws but of custom in
such matters. Messrs. Mowbray & Mopus and Mr. Benjamin were the allies to
whom she looked for guidance; but she was wise enough to know that Mowbray
& Mopus and Harter & Benjamin were not trustworthy, whereas Camperdown &
Son and the Messrs. Garnett were all as firm as rocks and as respectable
as the Bank of England. Circumstances--unfortunate circumstances--drove
her to Harter & Benjamin and to Mowbray & Mopus, while she would have
taken so much delight in feeling the strong honesty of the other people to
be on her side! She would have talked to her friends about Mr. Camperdown
and the people at Garnetts' with so much satisfaction! But ease, security,
and even respectability may be bought too dearly. Ten thousand pounds! Was
she prepared to surrender such a sum as that? She had, indeed, already
realized the fact that it might be very difficult to touch the money. When
she had suggested to Mr. Benjamin that he should buy the jewels, that
worthy tradesman had by no means jumped at the offer. Of what use to her
would be a necklace always locked up in an iron box, which box, for aught
she knew, myrmidons from Mr. Camperdown might carry off during her absence
from the house? Would it not be better to come to terms and surrender? But
then what should the terms be?

If only there had been a friend whom she could consult--a friend whom she
could consult on a really friendly footing!--not a simply respectable,
off-handed, high-minded friend, who would advise her as a matter of course
to make restitution. Her uncle the dean, or her cousin Frank, or old Lady
Fawn, would be sure to give her such advice as that. There are people who
are so very high-minded when they have to deal with the interests of their
friends! What if she were to ask Lord Fawn?

Thoughts of a second marriage had, of course, crossed Lady Eustace's mind,
and they were by no means the worst thoughts that found a place there. She
had a grand idea--this selfish, hard-fisted little woman, who could not
bring herself to abandon the plunder on which she had laid her hand--a
grand idea of surrendering herself and all her possessions to a great
passion. For Florian Eustace she had never cared. She had sat down by his
side, and looked into his handsome face, and read poetry to him, because
of his wealth, and because it had been indispensable to her to settle
herself well. And he had been all very well--a generous, open-hearted,
chivalrous, irascible, but rather heavy-minded gentleman; but she had
never been in love with him. Now she desired to be so in love that she
could surrender everything to her love. There was as yet nothing of such
love in her bosom. She had seen no one who had so touched her. But she was
alive to the romance of the thing, and was in love with the idea of being
in love. "Ah," she would say to herself in her moments of solitude, "if I
had a Corsair of my own, how I would sit on watch for my lover's boat by
the sea-shore!" And she believed it of herself that she could do so.

But it would also be very nice to be a peeress--so that she might, without
any doubt, be one of the great ladies of London. As a baronet's widow with
a large income, she was already almost a great lady; but she was quite
alive to a suspicion that she was not altogether strong in her position.
The bishop's people and the dean's people did not quite trust her. The
Camperdowns and Garnetts utterly distrusted her. The Mopuses and Benjamins
were more familiar than they would be with a really great lady. She was
sharp enough to understand all this. Should it be Lord Fawn or should it
be a Corsair? The worst of Lord Fawn was the undoubted fact that he was
not himself a great man. He could, no doubt, make his wife a peeress; but
he was poor, encumbered with a host of sisters, dull as a blue-book, and
possessed of little beyond his peerage to recommend him. If she could only
find a peer, unmarried, with a dash of the Corsair about him! In the
meantime what was she to do about the jewels?

There was staying with her at this time a certain Miss Macnulty, who was
related, after some distant fashion, to old Lady Linlithgow, and who was
as utterly destitute of possessions or means of existence as any
unfortunate, well-born, and moderately-educated middle-aged woman in
London. To live upon her friends, such as they might be, was the only mode
of life within her reach. It was not that she had chosen such dependence;
nor, indeed, had she endeavoured to reject it. It had come to her as a
matter of course--either that or the poor-house. As to earning her bread,
except by that attendance which a poor friend gives, the idea of any
possibility that way had never entered her head. She could do nothing--
except dress like a lady with the smallest possible cost, and endeavour to
be obliging. Now, at this moment, her condition was terribly precarious.
She had quarrelled with Lady Linlithgow, and had been taken in by her old
friend Lizzie--her old enemy might, perhaps, be a truer expression--
because of that quarrel. But a permanent home had not even been promised
to her; and poor Miss Macnulty was aware that even a permanent home with
Lady Eustace would not be an unmixed blessing. In her way, Miss Macnulty
was an honest woman.

They were sitting together one May afternoon in the little back drawing-
room in Mount Street. They had dined early, were now drinking tea, and
intended to go to the opera. It was six o'clock, and was still broad day,
but the thick coloured blind was kept across the single window, and the
folding doors of the room were nearly closed, and there was a feeling of
evening in the room. The necklace during the whole day had been so heavy
on Lizzie's heart that she had been unable to apply her thoughts to the
building of that castle in the air in which the Corsair was to reign
supreme, but not alone. "My dear," she said--she generally called Miss
Macnulty my dear--"you know that box I had made by the jewellers."

"You mean the safe."

"Well--yes; only it isn't a safe. A safe is a great big thing. I had it
made especially for the diamonds Sir Florian gave me."

"I supposed it was so."

"I wonder whether there's any danger about it?"

"If I were you, Lady Eustace, I wouldn't keep them in the house. I should
have them kept where Sir Florian kept them. Suppose anybody should come
and murder you."

"I'm not a bit afraid of that," said Lizzie.

"I should be. And what will you do with it when you go to Scotland?"

"I took them with me before--in my own care. I know that wasn't safe. I
wish I knew what to do with them."

"There are people who keep such things," said Miss Macnulty.

Then Lizzie paused a moment. She was dying for counsel and for confidence.
"I cannot trust them anywhere," she said. "It is just possible there may
be a lawsuit about them."

"How a lawsuit?"

"I cannot explain it all, but I am very unhappy about it. They want me to
give them up; but my husband gave them to me, and for his sake I will not
do so. When he threw them around my neck he told me that they were my own
--so he did. How can a woman give up such a present--from a husband--who
is dead? As to the value, I care nothing. But I won't do it." By this time
Lady Eustace was in tears, and had so far succeeded as to have produced
some amount of belief in Miss Macnulty's mind.

"If they are your own, they can't take them from you," said Miss Macnulty.

"They shan't. They shall find that I've got some spirit left." Then she
reflected that a real Corsair lover would protect her jewels for her--
would guard them against a score of Camperdowns. But she doubted whether
Lord Fawn would do much in that way. Then the door was opened, and Lord
Fawn was announced. It was not at all unusual with Lord Fawn to call on
the widow at this hour. Mount Street is not exactly in the way from the
India Office to the House of Lords; but a hansom cab can make it almost in
the way. Of neglect of official duty Lord Fawn was never guilty; but a
half hour for private business or for relaxation between one stage of duty
and another--can any Minister grudge so much to an indefatigable follower?
Lady Eustace had been in tears as he was announced, but the light of the
room was so low that the traces of them could hardly be seen. She was in
her Corsair state of mind, divided between her jewels and her poetry, and
caring not very much for the increased rank which Lord Fawn could give
her. "The Sawab's case is coming on in the House of Commons this very
night," he said, in answer to a question from Miss Macnulty. Then he
turned to Lady Eustace. "Your cousin, Mr. Greystock, is going to ask a
question in the House."

"Shall you be there to answer him?" asked Miss Macnulty innocently.

"Oh dear, no. But I shall be present. A peer can go, you know." Then Lord
Fawn, at considerable length, explained to the two ladies the nature and
condition of the British Parliament. Miss Macnulty experienced an innocent
pleasure in having such things told to her by a lord. Lady Eustace knew
that this was the way in which Lord Fawn made love, and thought that from
him it was as good as any other way. If she were to marry a second time
simply with a view of being a peeress, of having a respected husband, and
making good her footing in the world, she would as lief listen to
parliamentary details and the prospects of the Sawab as to any other
matters. She knew very well that no Corsair propensities would be
forthcoming from Lord Fawn. Lord Fawn had just worked himself round to the
Sawab again, when Frank Greystock entered the room. "Now we have both the
Houses represented," said Lady Eustace, as she welcomed her cousin.

"You intend to ask your question about the Sawab tonight?" asked Lord Fawn
with intense interest, feeling that had it been his lot to perform that
task before he went to his couch, he would at this moment have been
preparing his little speech.

But Frank Greystock had not come to his cousin's house to talk of the
Prince of the Mygawb territory. When his friend Eustace had suggested to
him that he should marry the widow, he had ridiculed the idea. But
nevertheless he had thought of it a good deal. He was struggling hard,
working diligently, making for himself a character in Parliament,
succeeding--so said all his friends--as a barrister. He was a rising young
man, one of those whose names began to be much in the mouths of other men;
but still he was poor. It seemed to himself that among other good gifts
that of economy had not been bestowed upon him. He owed a little money,
and though he owed it, he went on spending his earnings. He wanted just
such a lift in the world as a wife with an income would give him. As for
looking about for a girl whom he could honestly love, and who should have
a fortune of her own, as well as beauty, birth, and all the other things--
that was out of his reach. If he talked to himself of love, if he were
ever to acknowledge to himself that love was to have sway over him, then
must Lucy Morris be the mistress of his heart. He had come to know enough
about himself to be aware of that; but he knew also that he had said
nothing binding him to walk in that path. It was quite open to him to
indulge a discreet ambition without dishonour. Therefore he also had come
to call upon the beautiful widow. The courtship with her he knew need not
be long. He could ask her to marry him to-morrow--as for that matter,
to-day--without a feeling of hesitation. She might accept him, or might
reject him; but, as he said to himself, in neither case would any harm be
done.

An idea of the same kind flitted across Lizzie's mind as she sat and
talked to the two gentlemen. She knew that her cousin Frank was poor, but
she thought that she could fall in love with him. He was not exactly a
Corsair, but he was a man who had certain Corsair propensities. He was
bold and dashing, unscrupulous and clever--a man to make a name for
himself, and one to whom a woman could endure to be obedient. There could
be no question as to choice between him and Lord Fawn if she were to allow
herself to choose by liking. And she thought that Frank Greystock would
keep the necklace, if he himself were made to have an interest in the
necklace; whereas Lord Fawn would undoubtedly surrender it at once to Mr.
Camperdown.

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