Vanity Fair - Page 407/573

When the ladies of Gaunt House were at breakfast that morning, Lord

Steyne (who took his chocolate in private and seldom disturbed the

females of his household, or saw them except upon public days, or when

they crossed each other in the hall, or when from his pit-box at the

opera he surveyed them in their box on the grand tier) his lordship, we

say, appeared among the ladies and the children who were assembled over

the tea and toast, and a battle royal ensued apropos of Rebecca.

"My Lady Steyne," he said, "I want to see the list for your dinner on

Friday; and I want you, if you please, to write a card for Colonel and

Mrs. Crawley."

"Blanche writes them," Lady Steyne said in a flutter. "Lady Gaunt

writes them."

"I will not write to that person," Lady Gaunt said, a tall and stately

lady, who looked up for an instant and then down again after she had

spoken. It was not good to meet Lord Steyne's eyes for those who had

offended him.

"Send the children out of the room. Go!" said he pulling at the

bell-rope. The urchins, always frightened before him, retired: their

mother would have followed too. "Not you," he said. "You stop."

"My Lady Steyne," he said, "once more will you have the goodness to go

to the desk and write that card for your dinner on Friday?"

"My Lord, I will not be present at it," Lady Gaunt said; "I will go

home."

"I wish you would, and stay there. You will find the bailiffs at

Bareacres very pleasant company, and I shall be freed from lending

money to your relations and from your own damned tragedy airs. Who are

you to give orders here? You have no money. You've got no brains. You

were here to have children, and you have not had any. Gaunt's tired of

you, and George's wife is the only person in the family who doesn't

wish you were dead. Gaunt would marry again if you were."

"I wish I were," her Ladyship answered with tears and rage in her eyes.

"You, forsooth, must give yourself airs of virtue, while my wife, who

is an immaculate saint, as everybody knows, and never did wrong in her

life, has no objection to meet my young friend Mrs. Crawley. My Lady

Steyne knows that appearances are sometimes against the best of women;

that lies are often told about the most innocent of them. Pray, madam,

shall I tell you some little anecdotes about my Lady Bareacres, your

mamma?"

"You may strike me if you like, sir, or hit any cruel blow," Lady Gaunt

said. To see his wife and daughter suffering always put his Lordship

into a good humour.

"My sweet Blanche," he said, "I am a gentleman, and never lay my hand

upon a woman, save in the way of kindness. I only wish to correct

little faults in your character. You women are too proud, and sadly

lack humility, as Father Mole, I'm sure, would tell my Lady Steyne if

he were here. You mustn't give yourselves airs; you must be meek and

humble, my blessings. For all Lady Steyne knows, this calumniated,

simple, good-humoured Mrs. Crawley is quite innocent--even more

innocent than herself. Her husband's character is not good, but it is

as good as Bareacres', who has played a little and not paid a great

deal, who cheated you out of the only legacy you ever had and left you

a pauper on my hands. And Mrs. Crawley is not very well-born, but she

is not worse than Fanny's illustrious ancestor, the first de la Jones."