volumes — love — faithlessness — splendid marriage at St.
George's, Hanover Square — broken-hearted maid — and Sam
Huxter was not the hero of that story — poor Sam, who by this
time had got out an exceedingly rank Cuba cigar, and was
smoking it under Fanny's little nose.
After that confounded prig Pendennis joined and left the
party, the sun was less bright to Sam Huxter, the sky less
blue — the Sticks had no attraction for him — the bitter beer
hot and undrinkable — the world was changed. He had a
quantity of peas and a tin pea-shooter in the pocket of the cab
for amusement on the homeward route. He didn't take them
out, and forgot their existence until some other wag, on their
return from the races, fired a volley into Sam's sad face;
upon which salute, after a few oaths indicative of surprise, he
burst into a savage and sardonic laugh.
But Fanny was charming all the way home. She coaxed,
and snuggled, and smiled. She laughed pretty laughs ; she
admired everything; she took out the darling little Jack-in-
13*
196
tho-boxes, and was so obliged to Sam. And when they got
home, and Mr. Huxter, still with darkness on his countenance,
was taking a frigid leave of her — she burst into tears, and said
he was a naughty unkind thing.
Upon which, with a burst of emotion almost as emphatic
as hers, the young surgeon held the girl In his arms — swore
that she was an angel, and that he was a jealous brute ; owned
that he was unworthy of her, and that he had no right to hate
Pendennis; and asked her, Implored her, to say once more
that she —
That she what?— The end of the question and Fanny's
answer were pronounced by lips that were so near each other,
that no bystander could hear the words. Mrs. Bolton only
said, "Come, come, Mr. H. — no nonsense, if you please;
and I think you 've acted like a wicked wretch, and been most
uncommon cruel to Fanny, that I do."
When Arthur left No. 2002, he went to pay his respects
to the carriage to which , and to the side of her mamma, the
dove-coloured author of MesLarmes had by this time returned.
Indefatigable old Major Pendennis was in waiting upon Lady
Clavering, and had occupied the back seat In her carriage;
the box being in possession of young Hopeful, under the care
of Captain Strong.
A number of dandles, and men of a certain fashion — of
military bucks, of young rakes of the public offices, of those
who may be styled men's men rather than ladies' — ^had come
about the carriage during its station on the hill — and had ex-
changed a word or two with Lady Clavering, and a little talk
(a little " chaff" some of the most elegant of the men styled
their conversation) with Miss Amory. They had offered her
sportive bets , and exchanged with her all sorts of free-talk
and knowing innuendoes. They pointed out to her who was
197
on the course: and the "who" was not always the person
a young lady should know.
When Pen came up to Lady Clavering's carriage, he had
to push his way through a crowd of these young bucks who
were paying their court to Miss Amory, in order to arrive as
near that young lady, who beckoned him by many pretty
signals to her side.
" Je I'ai vue ," she said ; " elle a de bien beaux yeux ; vous
§tes unmonstre!'*
"Why monster?" said Pen, with a laugh; "Honisoltqui
mat y pense. My young friend, yonder, is as well protected
as any young lady in Christendom. She has her mamma on
one side, her pretendu on the other. Could any harm happen
to a girl between those two ? "
"One does not know what may or. may not arrive," said
Miss Blanche, in French, "when a girl has the mind, and
when she Is pursued by a wicked monster like you. Figure to
yourself, Colonel, that I come to find Monsieur, your nephew,
near to a cab, by two ladies, and a man, oh, such a man I
and who ate lobsters , and who laughed , who laughed 1 "
"It did not strike me that the man laughed," Pen said.
"And as for lobsters. I thought he would have liked to eat
me after the lobsters. He shook hands with me, and griped
me so, that he bruised my glove black and blue. He is a
young surgeon. He comes from Clavering. Don't you re-
member the gilt pestle and mortar in High Street? "
"If he attends you when you are sick," continued Miss
Amory, "he will kill you. He will serve you right; for you
are a monster."
The perpetual recurrence to the word "monster" jarred
upon Pen. "She speaks about these matters a great deal too
lightly," he thought. "If I had been a monster, as she calls
it, she would have received me just the same. This is not the
198
way in which an English lady should speak or think. Laura
would not speak in that way, thank God ; " and as he thought
so , his own countenance fell.
"Of what are you thinking? Are you going to bonder me at
present?" Blanche asked. "Major, scold your mechant
nephew. He does not amuse me at all. He is as bete as Cap-
tain Crackenbury."
"What are you saying about me. Miss Amory?" said the
guardsman, with a grin. "If it *s anything good, say it in
English, for I don't understand French when it 's spoke so
devilish quick."
"It aint anything good. Crack," said Crackenbury's
fellow, Captain Clinker. "Let 's come away, and don't spoil
sport. They say Pendennis is sweet upon her."
" I 'm told he 's a devilish clever fellow," sighed Cracken-
bury. "Lady Violet Lebas says he 's a devilish clever fellow.
He wrote a work, or a poem, or something; and he writes
those devilish clever things in the — in the papers, you know.
Dammy , I wish /was a clever fellow. Clinker."
"That 's past wishing for. Crack, my boy,'* the other
said. "I can't write a good book, but I think I can make a
pretty good one on the Derby. What a flat Clavering is!
And the Begum I I like that old Begum. She 's worth ten
of her daughter. How pleased the old girl was at winning
the lottery!"
"Clavering *s safe to pay up, ain't he?" asked Captain
Crackenbury,
"I hope so," said his friend; and they disappeared, to
enjoy themselves among the Sticks.
Before the end of the day's amusements, many more
gentlemen of Lady Clavering's acquaintance came up to her
carriage, and chatted with the party which it contained. The
worthy lady was in high spirits and good-humour, laughing
199
and talking according to her wont, and offering refreshments
to all her friends, until her ample baskets and bottles were
emptied , and her servants and postillions were in such a royal
state of excitement as servants and postillions commonly are
upon the Derby day.
The Major remarked that some of the visitors to the car-
riage appeared to look with rather queer and meaning glances
towards its owner. "How easily she takes it!" one man
whispered to another. " The Begum 's made of money, " the
friend replied. "How easily she takes what?" thought old
Pendennis. " Has anybody lost any money? " Lady Clavering
said she was happy in the morning because Sir Francis had
promised her not to bet.
Mr. Welbore, the country neighbour of the Claverings,
was passing the carriage, when he was called back by the
Begum, who rallied him for wishing to cut her. "Why didn't
he come before? Why didn't he come to lunch?" Her lady-
ship was in great delight, she told him — she told everybody,
that she had won five pounds in a lottery. As she conveyed
this piece of intelligence to him, Mr. Welbore looked so parti-
cularly knowing, and withal melancholy, that a dismal ap-
prehension seized upon Major Pendennis. "He would go
and look after the horses and those rascals of postillions, who
were so long in coming round." When he came back to the
carriage, his usually benign and smirking countenance was
obscured by some sorrow. "What is the matter with you
now?" the good-natured Begum asked. The Major pre-
tended a headache from the fatigue and sunshine of the day.
The carriage wheeled off the course and took its way London-
wards , not the least brilliant equipage in that vast and pictu-
resque procession. The tipsy drivers dashed gallantly over
the turf, amidst the admiration of foot-passengers , the ironi-
cal cheers of the little donkey- carriages and spring vans, and
200
the loud objurgations of horse-and-chaise men, with whom
the reckless post-boys came in contact. The jolly Begum
looked the picture of good humour as she reclined on her
splendid cushions; the lovely Sylphide smiled with languid
elegance. Many an honest holiday-maker with his family
wadded into a tax-cart, many a cheap dandy working his way
home on his weary hack, admired that brilliant turn-out, and
thought, no doubt, how happy those "swells" must be.
Strong sat on the box still, with a lordly voice calling to the
post-boys and the crowd. Master Frank had been put inside
of the carriage and was asleep there by the side of the Major,
dozing away the effects of the constant luncheon and cham-
pagne of which he had freely partaken.
The Major was revolving In his mind meanwhile the news
the receipt of which had made him so grave. "If Sir Francis
Claverlng goes on in this way, Pendennis the elder thought,
this little tipsy rascal will be as bankrupt as his father and
grandfather before him. The Begum's fortune can't stand
such drains upon it : no fortune can stand them : she has paid
his debts half-a-dozen times already. A few years more of
the turf, and a few coups like this will ruin her."
"Don't you think we could get up races at Claverlng,
Mamma?" Miss Amory asked. "Yes, we must have them
there again. There were races there in the old times, the
good old times. It 's a national amusement you know : and we
could have a Claverlng ball: and we might have dances for
the tenantry, and rustic sports in the park — Oh, it would be
charming."
"Capital fun," said Mamma. "Wouldn't It, Major?"
"The turf is a very expensive amusement, my dear lady,'*
Major Pendennis answered, with such a rueful face, that the
Begum rallied him, and asked laughingly whether he had lost
money on the race?
201
After a slumber of about an hour and a half, the heir of
the house began to exhibit symptoms of wakefulness, stretch-
ing his youthful arms over the Major's face, and kicking his
sister's knees as she sate opposite to him. When the amiable
youth was quite restored to consciousness, he began a sprightly
conversation.
"I say, Ma," he said, "I 've gone and done it this time,
I have."
"What have you gone and done, Franky, dear?" asked
Mamma.
"How much is seventeen half-crowns? Two pound and
half-a-crown, ain't it? I drew Borax in our lottery, but I
bought Podasokus and Man-milliner of Leggat minor for two
open tarts and a bottle of ginger beer."
"You little wicked gambling creature, how dare you begin
so soon? " cried Miss Amory.
*'Hold your tongue, if you please. Who ever asked your
leave, Miss?'* the brother said. "And I say, Ma — "
"Well, Franky, dear?"
" You '11 tip me all the same, you know, when I go back — "
and here he broke out into a laugh. "I say, Ma, shall I tell
you something?"
The Begum expressed her desire to hear this something,
and her son and heir continued: —
" When me and Strong was down at the grand stand after
the race, and I was talking to Leggat minor, who was there with
his governor ; I saw Pa look as savage as a bear. And I say.
Ma Leggat minor, told me that he heard his governor say that
Pa had lost seven thousand backing the favourite. I '11 never
back the favourite when I 'm of age. No , no — hang me if I
do: leave me along. Strong, will you?"
"Captain Strong! Captain Strong! is this true?" cried
out the unfortunate Begum. "Has Sir Francis been betting
202
again? He promised me he wouldn't. He gave me his word
of honour he wouldn't."
Strong, from his place on the box, had overheard the end
of young Clavering's communication, and was trying in vain
to stop his unlucky tongue.
"I'm afraid it 's true, Ma'am," he said, turning round.
"I deplore the loss as much as you can. He promised me as
he promised you; but the play is too strong for him I he can't
refrain from it."
Lady Clavering at this sad news burst into a fit of tears.
She deplored her wretched fate as the most miserable of
women. She declared she would separate, and pay no more
debts for this ungrateful man. She narrated with tearful vo-
lubility a score of stories only too authentic, which showed
how her husband had deceived, and how constantly she had
befriended him: and in this melancholy condition, whilst
young Hopeful was thinking about the two guineas which he
himself had won; and the Major revolving, in his darkened
mind, whether certain plans which he had been forming had
better not be abandoned; the splendid carriage drove up at
length to the Begum's house in Grosvenor Place; the idlers
and boys lingering about the place to witness, according to
public wont, the close of the Derby Day, cheering the carriage
as it drew up , and envying the happy folks who descended
from it.
"And it 's for the son of this man that I am made a beg-
gar 1" Blanche said, quivering with anger, as she walked
up stairs leaning on the Major's arm — "for this cheat, — for
this black-leg — for this liar — for this robber of women."
"Calm yourself, my dear Miss Blanche," the old gentle-
man said; "I pray calm yourself. You have been hardly
treated, most unjustly. But remember that you have always
203
a friend in me; and trust to an old fellow who will try and
serve you."
And the young lady, and the heir of the hopeful house of
Clavering, having retired to their beds, the remaining three
of the Epsom party remained for some time in deep consul-
tation.
CHAPTER XV.
Explanation.
Almost a year, as the reader will perceive, has passed
since an event described a few pages back. Arthur's black
coat is about to be exchanged for a blue one. His person has
undergone other more pleasing and remarkable changes. His
wig has been laid aside, and his hair, though somewhat thin-
ner, has returned to public view. And he has had the honour
of appearing at Court in the uniform of a Cornet of the Claver-
ing troop of the — shire Yeomanry Cavalry, being presented
to the Sovereign by the Marquis of Steyne.
This was a measure strongly and pathetically urged by Ar-
thur's uncle. The Major would not hear of a year passing be-
fore this ceremony of gentlemanhood was gone through. The
old gentleman thought that his nephew should belong to some
rather more select Club than the Megatherium; and has an-
nounced everywhere in the world his disappointment that the
young man's property has turned out not by any means as well
as he could have hoped, and is under fifteen hundred a-year.
That is the amount at which Pendennis's property is set
down in the world — where his publishers begin to respect
him much more than formerly , and where even mammas are
by no means uncivil to him. For if the pretty daughters are,
naturally, to marry people of very different expectations — at
any rate, he will be eligible for the plain ones : and if the bril-
204
llant and fascinating Myra is to hook an Earl, poor little
Beatrice, who has one shoulder higher than the other, must
hang on to some boor through life, and why should not Mr.
Pendennis be her support? In the very first winter after the
accession to his mother's fortune, Mrs. Hawxby in a country-
house caused her Beatrice to learn billiards from Mr. Penden-
nis, and would be driven by nobody but him in the pony car-
riage, because he was literary and her Beatrice was literary
too, and declared that the young man, under the instigation
of his horrid old uncle, had behaved most infamously in
trifling with Beatrice's feelings. The truth is the old gentle-
man, who knew Mrs. Hawxby's character, and how desperate-
ly that lady would practise upon unwary young men, had
come to the country-house in question and carried Arthur out
of the danger of her immediate claws, though not out of the
reach of her tongue. The elder Pendennis would have had
his nephew pass a part of the Christmas at Clavering, whither
the family had returned; but Arthur had not the heart for that.
Clavering was too near poor oldFairoaks; and that was too
full of sad recollections for the young man.
We have lost sight of the Claverings, too, until their re-
appearance upon the Epsom race-ground, and must give a
brief account of them in the interval. During the past year,
the world has not treated any member of the Clavering family
very kindly. Lady Clavering, one of the best-natured women
that ever enjoyed a good dinner, or made a slip in grammar,
has had her appetite and good-nature sadly tried by constant
family grievances, and disputes such as make the efforts of the
best French cook unpalatable, and the most delicately-stuffed
sofa-cushion hard to lie on. "I 'd rather have a turnip, Strong,
for dessert, than that pineapple, and all them Muscatel
grapes, from Clavering," says poor Lady Clavering, looking
at her dinner-table, and confiding her griefs to her faithful
205
friend, "if I could but have a little quiet to eat it with. Oh,
how much happier I was when I was a widow and before all
this money fell in to me I "
The Clavering family had indeed made a false start in life,
and had got neither comfort, nor position, nor thanks for the
hospitalities which they administered, nor a return of kind-
ness from the people whom they entertained. The success of
their first London season was doubtful; and their failure after-
awards notorious. "Human patience was not great enough to
put up with Sir Francis Clavering," people said. "He was
too hopelessly low, dull, and disreputable. You could not
say what, but there was a taint about the house and its en-
tourages. Who was the Begum, with her money, and with-
out herb's, and where did she come from? What an extra-
ordinary little piece of conceit the daughter was, with her
Gallicised graces and daring affectations, not fit for well-bred
English girls to associate with! What strange people were
those they assembled round about them I Sir Francis Claver-
ing was a gambler, living notoriously in the society of black-
legs and profligates. Hely Clinker, who was in his regiment,
said that he not only cheated at cards, but showed the white
feather. What could Lady Rockminster have meant by taking
her up?" After the first season, indeed, Lady Rockminster,
who had taken up Lady Clavering, put her down; the great
ladies would not take their daughters to her parties ; the young
men who attended them behaved with the most odious free-
dom and scornful familiarity; and poor Lady Clavering her-
self avowed that she was obliged to take what she called "the
canal" into her parlour, because the tiptops wouldn't come.
She had not the slightest ill-will towards "the canal," the
poor dear lady, or any pride about herself, or idea that she
was better than her neighbour; but she had taken implicitly
the orders which on her entry into the world her social god-
206
mother had given her : she had been willing to know whom
they asked. The "canal," in fact, was much pleasanter than
what is called "society; " but, as we said before, that to leave
a mistress is easy, while, on the contrary, to be left by her is
cruel; so you may give up society without any great pang, or
anything but a sensation of relief at the parting ; but severe
are the mortifications and pains you have if society gives
up you.
One young man of fashion we have mentioned, who at least
it might have been expected would have been found faithful
amongst the faithless, and Harry Foker, Esq., was indeed that
young man. But he had not managed matters with prudence,
and the unhappy passion at first confided to Pen became noto-
rious and ridiculous to the town, was carried to the ears of his
weak and fond mother, and finally brought under the cogni-
sance of the bald-headed and inflexible Foker senior.
When Mr. Foker learned this disagreeable news, there
took place between him and his son a violent and painful scene
which ended in the poor little gentleman's banishment from
England for a year, with a positive order to return at the ex-
piration of that time and complete his marriage with his cou-
sin, or to retire into private life and three hundred a year
altogether, and never see parent or brewery more. Mr. Henry
Foker went away then , carrying with him that grief and care
which passes free at the strictest Custom-houses, and which
proverbially accompanies the exile, and with this crape over
his eyes, even the Parisian Boulevard looked melancholy to
him, and the sky of Italy black.
To Sir Francis Clavering, that year was a most unfortu-
nate one. The events described in the last chapter came to
complete the ruin of the year. It was that year of grace in
which, as our sporting readers may remember. Lord Har-
rowhill's h.orse (he was a classical young nobleman, and
207
named his stud out of the Iliad) — when Podasokus won
the "Derby," to the dismay of the knowing ones, who pro-
nounced the winning horse's name in various extraordinary
ways, and who backed Borax, who was nowhere in the race.
Sir Francis Clavering, who was intimate with some of the most
rascally characters of the turf , and, of course, had valuable
"information," had laid heavy odds against the winning horse,
and backed the favourite freely, and the result of his dealings
was, as his son correctly stated to poor Lady Clavering, a loss
of seven thousand pounds.
Indeed, it was a cruel blow upon the lady, who had dis-
charged her husband's debts many times over; who had re-
ceived as many times his oaths and promises of amendment;
who had paid his money-lenders and horse-dealers ; who had
furnished his town and country houses, and who was called
upon now instantly to meet this enormous sum, the penalty oi
her cowardly husband's extravagance.
It has been described in former pages how the elder Pen-
dennis had become the adviser of the Clavering family, and,
in his quality of intimate friend of the house, had gone over
every room of it, and even seen that ugly closet which we all
of us have, and in which, according to the proverb, the family
skeleton is locked up. About the Baronet's pecuniary matters,
if the Major did not know, it was because Clavering himself
did not know them, and hid them from himself and others in
such a hopeless entanglement of lies that it was impossible for
adviser or attorney or principal to get an accurate knowledge
of his affairs. But, concerning Lady Clavering, the Major
was much better informed; and when the unlucky mishap of
the "Derby" arose, he took upon himself to become com-
pletely and thoroughly acquainted with all her means, what-
soever they were ; and was now accurately informed of the
208
vast and repeated sacrifices which the widow Amory had made
in behalf of her present husband.
He did not conceal, — and he had won no small favour
from Miss Blanche by avowing it, — his opinion, that Lady
Clavering's daughter had been hardly treated at the expense
of her son, by her second marriage: and in his conversations
with Lady Clavering had fairly hinted that he thought Miss
Blanche ought to have a better provision. We have said that
he had already given the widow to understand that he knew
all the particulars of her early and unfortunate history, having
been in India at the time when — when the painful circum-
stances occurred which had ended in her parting from her first
husband. He could tell her where to find the Calcutta news-
paper which contained the account of Amory's trial, and he
showed, and the Begum was not a little grateful to him for his
forbearance, how, being aware all along of this mishap which
had befallen her, he had kept all knowledge of it to himself,
and been constantly the friend of her family.
"Interested motives, my dear Lady Clavering," he said,
"of course I may have had. We all have interested motives,
and mine I don't conceal from you, was to make a marriage
between my nephew and your daughter." To which Lady
Clavering, perhaps with some surprise that the Major should
choose her family for a union with his own, said she was quite
willing to consent.
But frankly he said, "My dear lady, my boy has but five
hundred a-year, and a wife with ten thousand pounds to her
fortune would scarcely better him. We could do better for
him than that, permit me to say, and he is a shrewd cautious
young fellow who has sown his wild oats now — who has very
good parts and plenty of ambition — and whose object in
marrying is to better himself. If you and Sir Francis chose —
and Sir Francis, take my word for it. will refuse you nothing