The Palliser Novels: Complete Parliamentary Chronicles (All Six Novels in One Volume). Anthony Trollope
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“You are too old, I fear, for the public service.”
“You mean a desk in the Treasury,—with a hundred a year. Yes; I think I am too old.”
“But have you no plan of your own?”
“Not much of one. Sometimes I have thought I would go to New Zealand.”
“You would have to be a farmer there.”
“No;—I shouldn’t do that. I should get up an opposition to the Government and that sort of thing, and then they would buy me off and give me a place.”
“That does very well here, Jeffrey, if a man can get into Parliament and has capital enough to wait; but I don’t think it would do out there. Would you like to go into Parliament?”
“What; here? Of course I should. Only I should be sure to get terribly into debt. I don’t owe very much, now,—not to speak of,—except what I owe you.”
“You owe nothing to me,” said Plantagenet, with some little touch of magniloquence in his tone. “No; don’t speak of it. I have no brother, and between you and me it means nothing. You see, Jeffrey, it may be that I shall have to look to you as my—my—my heir, in short.” Hereupon Jeffrey muttered something as to the small probability of such necessity, and as to the great remoteness of any result even if it were so.
“That’s all true,” said the elder heir of the Pallisers, “but still—. In short, I wish you would do something. Do you think about it; and then some day speak to me again.”
Jeffrey, as he left his cousin with a cheque for £500 in his waistcoat pocket, thought that the interview which had at one time taken important dimensions, had not been concluded altogether satisfactorily. A seat in Parliament! Yes, indeed! If his cousin would so far use his political, monetary, or ducal interest as to do that for him;—as to give him something of the status properly belonging to the younger son of the House, then indeed life would have some charms for him! But as for the farm in Scotland, or a desk at an office in London,—his own New Zealand plan would be better than those. And then as he went along of course he bethought himself that it might be his lot yet to die, and at least to be buried, in the purple, as a Duke of Omnium. If so, certainly it would be his duty to prepare another heir, and leave a duke behind him,—if it were possible.
“Are you going to ride with us after lunch?” said Lady Glencora to him as he strolled into the drawing-room.
“No,” said Jeffrey; “I’m going to study.”
“To do what?” said Lady Glencora.
“To study;—or rather I shall spend to-day in sitting down and considering what I will study. My cousin has just been telling me that I ought to do something.”
“So you ought,” said Iphigenia energetically from her writing-desk.
“But he didn’t seem to have any clear opinion what it ought to be. You see there can’t be two Chancellors of the Exchequer at the same time. Mrs Sparkes, what ought a young man like me to set about doing?”
“Go into Parliament, I should say,” said Mrs Sparkes.
“Ah, yes; exactly. He had some notion of that kind, too, but he didn’t name any particular place. I think I’ll try the City of London. They’ve four there, and of course the chance of getting in would thereby be doubled.”
“I thought that commercial men were generally preferred in the City,” said the Duchess, taking a strong and goodnatured interest in the matter.
“Mr Palliser means to make a fortune in trade as a preliminary,” said Mrs Sparkes.
“I don’t think he meant anything of the kind,” said the Duchess.
“At any rate I have got to do something, so I can’t go and ride,” said Jeffrey.
“And you ought to do something,” said Iphigenia from her desk.
Twice during this little conversation Lady Glencora had looked up, catching Alice’s eye, and Alice had well known what she had meant. “You see,” the glance had said, “Plantagenet is beginning to take an interest in his cousin, and you know why. The man who is to be the father of the future dukes must not be allowed to fritter away his time in obscurity. Had I that cradle upstairs Jeffrey might be as idle as he pleased.” Alice understood it well.
Of course Jeffrey did join the riding party. “What is a man like me to do who wants to do something?” he said to Alice. Alice was quite aware that Lady Glencora had contrived some little scheme that Mr Palliser should be riding next to her. She liked Mr Palliser, and therefore had no objection; but she declared to herself that her cousin was a goose for her pains.
“Mrs Sparkes says you ought to go into Parliament.”
“Yes;—and the dear Duchess would perhaps suggest a house in Belgrave Square. I want to hear your advice now.”
“I can only say ditto to Miss Palliser.”
“What! Iphy? About procrastination? But you see the more of my time he steals the better it is for me.”
“That’s the evil you have got to cure.”
“My cousin Plantagenet suggested—marriage.”
“A very good thing too, I’m sure,” said Alice; “only it depends something on the sort of wife you get.”
“You mean, of course, how much money she has.”
“Not altogether.”
“Looking at it from my cousin’s point of view, I suppose that it is the only important point. Who are there coming up this year,—in the way of heiresses?”
“Upon my word I don’t know. In the first place, how much money makes an heiress?”
“For such a fellow as me, I suppose ten thousand pounds ought to do.”
“That’s not much,” said Alice, who had exactly that amount of her own.
“No—; perhaps that’s too moderate. But the lower one went in the money speculation, the greater would be the number to choose from, and the better the chance of getting something decent in the woman herself. I have something of my own,—not much you know; so with the lady’s ten thousand pounds we might be able to live,—in some second-rate French town perhaps.”
“But I don’t see what you would gain by that.”
“My people here would have got rid of me. That seems to be the great thing. If you hear of any girl with about that sum, moderately good-looking, not too young so that she might know something of the world, decently born, and able to read and write, perhaps you will bear me in mind.”
“Yes, I will,” said Alice, who was quite aware that he had made an accurate picture of her own position. “When I meet such a one, I will send for you at once.”
“You know no such person now?”
“Well, no; not just at present.”
“I declare I don’t think he could do anything better,” her cousin said to her that night. Lady Glencora was now in the habit of having Alice with her in what she called her dressingroom every evening, and then they would sit till the small hours came upon them. Mr Palliser always burnt the midnight oil and came to bed with the owls. They would often talk of him and his prospects till Alice had perhaps inspired his wife with more of interest in him and them than she had before felt. And Alice had managed generally to drive her friend away from those topics which were so dangerous,—those allusions to her childlessness, and those hints that Burgo Fitzgerald was still in her thoughts. And sometimes, of course, they had spoken of Alice’s own prospects, till she got into a way of telling her cousin freely all that she felt. On such occasions Lady Glencora would always tell her that she had been right,—if she did not love