The Spider and the Fly. Garvice Charles
in the paper among the fashionable intelligence, but hundreds exclaimed:
"I wish I were a Lackland."
But not one of the envious many knew what they were really envying.
There is a skeleton in every house; there was one ever present in all the great and small houses of Lackland. Sometimes he kept discreetly to his cupboard; at others he stepped boldly out and rattled his bones, and grinned in a manner horrible to see.
Oh, yes, reader, other people besides yourself have a skeleton, and there are some persons unfortunate enough to have two.
If we entered the Grosvenor Square mansion, say on the morning after that memorable little dinner party at Mildmay Park far away in Penruddie, we might perhaps have caught a glimpse of that skeleton starting out of the cupboard.
Lord Lackland was seated at the morocco-lined writing table in his own room, with a few newspapers, a decanter of light wine, and a box of biscuits before him.
The door opened, and a young man, no other than Lord Fitz Plantagenet Boisdale, entered.
There was a flush on his fair face, and a look of doubt and distrustful nervousness in his rather simple blue eyes.
"Good-morning, sir," he said, holding out his hand.
"Good-morning, Fitz," said the earl, extending two fingers and glancing coldly at a chair which stood near the table ready for any visitor on business. "You are ten minutes behind your time."
"I am very sorry, sir," said the boy, for he was little more in years or appearance, "but I'd promised to ride with Ethel this morning, and I forgot it until after I left you, so I went down to the stable to tell Markham to saddle the two bays, and he kept me to talk about that chestnut – "
The earl interrupted what promised to be a lengthy explanatory excuse with his cold, little bow, and glanced at the ormolu timepiece on the table.
"It is of little consequence to me; I am obliged to leave at the half hour to meet an appointment, therefore I shall only be able to give you the time I promised to give you. You wished to speak to me."
"Yes, sir," said Lord Fitz, looking down at his boots nervously, and then up at the ceiling. "I wanted to ask you if you could let me have a couple of hundred pounds beyond my allowance to – to – pay a few debts, which – which, of course, I could not help running into while I was in Paris."
Lord Lackland walked to the bureau, and took out a bundle – a very small bundle – of banknotes; from this he counted out a hundred pounds' worth, and, holding them in his hand, said:
"Here are a hundred pounds; I cannot give you any more, for a very good reason, I cannot afford to do so."
Lord Fitz looked up with a simple stare which extended his mouth as well as his eyes.
"I cannot afford to do so," said the metallic voice. "It is quite time that you should be placed in possession of the truth as regards my – I may say our – pecuniary position. I ought, perhaps, to have informed you of the condition of my affairs long earlier, but consideration for your feelings deterred me. Fitz, the estates in London, in Italy, in England, are mortgaged to their fullest extent. The revenue is nearly swallowed up by the interest, and there is so little ready money in the house that if the servants were to demand their wages I should not be in a position to pay them."
Lord Fitz stared, pale and aghast.
The skeleton was out grimly walking before him. For the first time Lord Boisdale learned that he was heir to a rich crop of embarrassments, and that the great Earl of Lackland, his father, was a poor man.
"Great Heaven!" he exclaimed. "You don't mean to say that, sir!" unlike his father, showing his emotion unmistakably.
"I have said it," replied the earl, "and now you know my – our – real position. Credit, Fitz, has kept our heads above water for a great many years – credit alone. How much longer it may do so I cannot say, but I can estimate if your bills for necessaries amount to the sums which they here represent."
"What – what's to be done?" asked Lord Fitz, staring at his calm parent with bewildered horror. "We must sell some of the places, the horses, the diamonds, by jingo! – the – the – everything!"
"We cannot sell what is sold or out of our hands already. You do not understand business matters, unfortunately, or you would at once comprehend that the houses, the land, being mortgaged, and the diamonds at the – ahem – pawnbroker's, it is simply impossible to make further money of them."
The young man jumped up and took three paces up and down.
"But," said he, suddenly, and with incredulity upon his face, "I saw my mother wear the diamonds at the last drawing-room."
"Not exactly," said the earl, "paste imitations only; the real are in the possession of a pawnbroker. But if you have any taste or inclination for an investigation or examination of our finances, you have my permission to examine the documents which you will find in this case – "
"Great Heaven, no!" said young Fitz. "I don't doubt your word, my lord; I'm only stunned, knocked all of a heap as one may say. It seems so incredible! Why, by jingo, the fellows are always asking me to lend them money – and – and saying how rich we are; and you say that – "
"That I cannot afford to let you have the other hundred pounds," said the earl, replacing the bundle in the bureau. "While we are upon the subject, which is too painful to be renewed, I will remind you that you are heir to the estate, and that it is in your power to clear it of the encumbrances."
"In mine!" exclaimed Lord Fitz.
"Exactly," said the earl. "By a judicious marriage. You must marry an heiress, Fitz. There are a number of them to be met with; and a great many are extremely anxious to purchase position with their money. I speak plainly because the matter is too serious for mere insinuation. You must marry well, and – ahem – so, of course, must your sister."
He glanced at the timepiece significantly.
The young lad rose at the hint and took up his hat.
"I won't detain you any longer, sir," he said. "I am very much obliged for – for the money, and, of course, I'm very sorry to hear such a bad account of the estate."
"Exactly," said the earl, with a cold smile, looking out of the window. "You are riding that bay, I see, and I trust you will take care of it. I had to pay a heavy bill for the mare whose knees you cut last month. Let me beg of you to be careful with the bay."
"Certainly, sir," said Lord Boisdale, and with a very uncomfortable air he left the room.
As he passed into the corridor a sweet, clear voice rose from the hall.
"Fitz, are you coming?"
Fitz smothered a sigh, and as cheerfully as he could, replied:
"All right; here I am," and ran down the stairs.
In the hall stood Lady Ethel Boisdale.
"How long you have been!" she said, with a smile. "Are you not ashamed to keep a lady waiting? Well, I think brothers imagine they are privileged to take advantage of a sister."
As she spoke her eyes noted the disappointment and embarrassment on his countenance, and when they were mounted and turning out of the square she said:
"What is the matter, Fitz? Will not papa give you the money?"
"No," said Fitz, with an uncomfortable laugh, "no; and supplies an excellent reason for not complying with my modest request. Oh, dear me, I'm very miserable. There! don't ask me what about, because I shan't tell you. It would only worry you, and you're too good a fellow – I mean girl – to be worried. Let's put these lazy animals into something sharper; I hate this square and those streets."
Lady Ethel touched her horse gently, and in silence they cantered into the Park.
"Look," said Ethel, presently, "who is that lifting his hat?"
"Eh? where?" said Lord Fitz. "Oh, it's Bertie Fairfax and Leicester Dodson – capital fellow, Bertie. Let's pull up a minute, Ethel."
And with a