Dick walked downstairs with Lady Monogram. There had been some doubt whether of right he should not have taken Lady Eustace, but it was held by Mrs. Dick that her ladyship had somewhat impaired her rights by the eccentricities of her career, and also that she would amiably pardon any little wrong against her of that kind,—whereas Lady Monogram was a person to be much considered. Then followed Sir Damask with Lady Eustace. They seemed to be paired so well together that there could be no doubt about them. The ministerial Roby, who was really the hero of the night, took Mrs. Happerton, and our friend Mr. Wharton took the Secretary\'s wife. All that had been easy,—so easy that fate had good-naturedly arranged things which are sometimes difficult of management. But then there came an embarrassment. Of course it would in a usual way be right that a married man as was Mr. Happerton should be assigned to the widow Mrs. Leslie, and that the only two "young" people,—in the usual sense of the word,—should go down to dinner together. But Mrs. Roby was at first afraid of Mr. Wharton, and planned it otherwise. When, however, the last moment came she plucked up courage, gave Mrs. Leslie to the great commercial man, and with a brave smile asked Lopez to give his arm to the lady he loved. It is sometimes so hard to manage these "little things," said she to Lord Mongrober as she put her hand upon his arm. His lordship had been kept standing in that odious drawing-room for more than half-an-hour waiting for a man whom he regarded as a poor Treasury hack, and was by no means in a good humour. Dick Roby\'s wine was no doubt good, but he was not prepared to purchase it at such a price as this. "Things always get confused when you have waited an hour for any one," he said. "What can one do, you know, when the House is sitting?" said the lady apologetically. "Of course you lords can get away, but then you have nothing to do." Lord Mongrober grunted, meaning to imply by his grunt that any one would be very much mistaken who supposed that he had any work to do because he was a peer of Parliament.
Lopez and Emily were seated next to each other, and immediately opposite to them was Mr. Wharton. Certainly nothing fraudulent had been intended on this occasion,—or it would have been arranged that the father should sit on the same side of the table with the lover, so that he should see nothing of what was going on. But it seemed to Mr. Wharton as though he had been positively swindled by his sister-in-law. There they sat opposite to him, talking to each other apparently with thoroughly mutual confidence, the very two persons whom he most especially desired to keep apart. He had not a word to say to either of the ladies near him. He endeavoured to keep his eyes away from his daughter as much as possible, and to divert his ears from their conversation;—but he could not but look and he could not but listen. Not that he really heard a sentence. Emily\'s voice hardly reached him, and Lopez understood the game he was playing much too well to allow his voice to travel. And he looked as though his position were the most commonplace in the world, and as though he had nothing of more than ordinary interest to say to his neighbour. Mr. Wharton, as he sat there, almost made up his mind that he would leave his practice, give up his chambers, abandon even his club, and take his daughter at once to—to;—it did not matter where, so that the place should be very distant from Manchester Square. There could be no other remedy for this evil.
Lopez, though he talked throughout the whole of dinner,—turning sometimes indeed to Mrs. Leslie who sat at his left hand,—said very little that all the world might not have heard. But he did say one such word. "It has been so dreary to me, the last month!" Emily of course had no answer to make to this. She could not tell him that her desolation had been infinitely worse than his, and that she had sometimes felt as though her very heart would break. "I wonder whether it must always be like this with me," he said,—and then he went back to the theatres, and other ordinary conversation.
"I suppose you\'ve got to the bottom of that champagne you used to have," said Lord Mongrober, roaring across the table to his host, holding his glass in his hand, and with strong marks of disapprobation on his face.
"The very same wine as we were drinking when your lordship last did me the honour of dining here," said Dick. Lord Mongrober raised his eyebrows, shook his head and put down the glass.
"Shall we try another bottle?" asked Mrs. Dick with solicitude.
"Oh, no;—it\'d be all the same, I know. I\'ll just take a little dry sherry if you have it." The man came with the decanter. "No, dry sherry;—dry sherry," said his lordship. The man was confounded, Mrs. Dick was at her wits\' ends, and everything was in confusion. Lord Mongrober was not the man to be kept waiting by a government subordinate without exacting some penalty for such ill-treatment.
"\'Is lordship is a little out of sorts," whispered Dick to Lady Monogram.
"Very much out of sorts, it seems."
"And the worst of it is, there isn\'t a better glass of wine in London, and \'is lordship knows it."
"I suppose that\'s what he comes for," said Lady Monogram, being quite as uncivil in her way as the nobleman.
"\'E\'s like a good many others. He knows where he can get a good dinner. After all, there\'s no attraction like that. Of course, a \'ansome woman won\'t admit that, Lady Monogram."
"I will not admit it, at any rate, Mr. Roby."
"But I don\'t doubt Monogram is as careful as any one else to get the best cook he can, and takes a good deal of trouble about his wine too. Mongrober is very unfair about that champagne. It came out of Madame Cliquot\'s cellars before the war, and I gave Sprott and Burlinghammer 110s. for it."
"Indeed!"
"I don\'t think there are a dozen men in London can give you such a glass of wine as that. What do you say about that champagne, Monogram?"
"Very tidy wine," said Sir Damask.
"I should think it is. I gave 110s. for it before the war. \'Is lordship\'s got a fit of the gout coming, I suppose."
But Sir Damask was engaged with his neighbour, Lady Eustace. "Of all things I should so like to see a pigeon match," said Lady Eustace. "I have heard about them all my life. Only I suppose it isn\'t quite proper for a lady."
"Oh, dear, yes."
"The darling little pigeons! They do sometimes escape, don\'t they? I hope they escape sometimes. I\'ll go any day you\'ll make up a party,—if Lady Monogram will join us." Sir Damask said that he would arrange it, making up his mind, however, at the same time, that this last stipulation, if insisted on, would make the thing impracticable.
Roby the ministerialist, sitting at the end of the table between his sister-in-law and Mrs. Happerton, was very confidential respecting the Government and parliamentary affairs in general. "Yes, indeed;—of course it\'s a coalition, but I don\'t see why we shouldn\'t go on very well. As to the Duke, I\'ve always had the greatest possible respect for him. The truth is, there\'s nothing special to be done at the present moment, and there\'s no reason why we shouldn\'t agree and divide the good things between us. The Duke has got some craze of his own about decimal coinage. He\'ll amuse himself with that; but it won\'t come to anything, and it won\'t hurt us."
"Isn\'t the Duchess giving a great many parties?" asked Mrs. Happerton.
"Well;—yes. That kind of thing used to be done in old Lady Brock\'s time, and the Duchess is repeating it. There\'s no end to their money, you know. But it\'s rather a bore for the persons who have to go." The ministerial Roby knew well how he would make his sister-in-law\'s mouth water by such an allusion as this to the great privilege of entering the Prime Minister\'s mansion in Carlton Terrace.
"I suppose you in the Government are always asked."
"We are expected to go too, and are watched pretty close. Lady Glen, as we used to call her, has the eyes of Argus. And of course we who used to be on the other side are especially bound to pay her observance."
"Don\'t you like the Duchess?" asked Mrs. Happerton.
"Oh, yes;—I like her very well. She\'s mad, you know,—mad as a hatter,—and no one can ever guess what freak may come next. One always feels that she\'ll do something sooner or later that will startle all the world."
"There was a queer story once,—wasn\'t there?" asked Mrs. Dick.
"I never quite believed that," said Roby. "It was something about some lover she had before she was married. She went off to Switzerland. But the Duke,—he was Mr. Palliser then,—followed her very soon and it all came right."
"When ladies are going to be duchesses, things do come right; don\'t they?" said Mrs. Happerton.
On the other side of Mrs. Happerton was Mr. Wharton, quite unable to talk to his right-hand neighbour, the Secretary\'s wife. The elder Mrs. Roby had not, indeed, much to say for herself, and he during the whole dinner was in misery. He had resolved that there should be no intimacy of any kind between his daughter and Ferdinand Lopez,—nothing more than the merest acquaintance; and there they were, talking together before his very eyes, with more evident signs of understanding each other than were exhibited by any other two persons at the table. And yet he had no just ground of complaint against either of them. If people dine together at the same house, it may of course happen that they shall sit next to each other. And if people sit next to each other at dinner, it is expecte............