VIII.
The News About Mr. Mildmay and Sir Everard
Fitzgibbon and Phineas started together from Pall Mall for Portman Square,—as both of them had promised to call on Lady Laura,—but Fitzgibbon turned in at Brooks’s as they walked up St. James’s Square, and Phineas went on by himself in a cab. “You should belong here,” said Fitzgibbon as his friend entered the cab, and Phineas immediately began to feel that he would have done nothing till he could get into Brooks’s. It might be very well to begin by talking politics at the Reform Club. Such talking had procured for him his seat at Loughshane. But that was done now, and something more than talking was wanted for any further progress. Nothing, as he told himself, of political import was managed at the Reform Club. No influence from thence was ever brought to bear upon the adjustment of places under the Government, or upon the arrangement of cabinets. It might be very well to count votes at the Reform Club; but after the votes had been counted,—had been counted successfully,—Brooks’s was the place, as Phineas believed, to learn at the earliest moment what would be the exact result of the success. He must get into Brooks’s, if it might be possible for him. Fitzgibbon was not exactly the man to propose him. Perhaps the Earl of Brentford would do it.
Lady Laura was at home, and with her was sitting—Mr. Kennedy. Phineas had intended to be triumphant as he entered Lady Laura’s room. He was there with the express purpose of triumphing in the success of their great party, and of singing a pleasant paean in conjunction with Lady Laura. But his trumpet was put out of tune at once when he saw Mr. Kennedy. He said hardly a word as he gave his hand to Lady Laura,—and then afterwards to Mr. Kennedy, who chose to greet him with this show of cordiality.
“I hope you are satisfied, Mr. Finn,” said Lady Laura, laughing.
“Oh yes.”
“And is that all? I thought to have found your joy quite irrepressible.”
“A bottle of soda-water, though it is a very lively thing when opened, won’t maintain its vivacity beyond a certain period, Lady Laura.”
“And you have had your gas let off already?”
“Well,—yes; at any rate, the sputtering part of it. Nineteen is very well, but the question is whether we might not have had twenty-one.”
“Mr. Kennedy has just been saying that not a single available vote has been missed on our side. He has just come from Brooks’s, and that seems to be what they say there.”
So Mr. Kennedy also was a member of Brooks’s! At the Reform Club there certainly had been an idea that the number might have been swelled to twenty-one; but then, as Phineas began to understand, nothing was correctly known at the Reform Club. For an accurate appreciation of the political balance of the day, you must go to Brooks’s.
“Mr. Kennedy must of course be right,” said Phineas. “I don’t belong to Brooks’s myself. But I was only joking, Lady Laura. There is, I suppose, no doubt that Lord de Terrier is out, and that is everything.”
“He has probably tendered his resignation,” said Mr. Kennedy.
“That is the same thing,” said Phineas, roughly.
“Not exactly,” said Lady Laura. “Should there be any difficulty about Mr. Mildmay, he might, at the Queen’s request, make another attempt.”
“With a majority of nineteen against him!” said Phineas. “Surely Mr. Mildmay is not the only man in the country. There is the Duke, and there is Mr. Gresham,—and there is Mr. Monk.” Phineas had at his tongue’s end all the lesson that he had been able to learn at the Reform Club.
“I should hardly think the Duke would venture,” said Mr. Kennedy.
“Nothing venture, nothing have,” said Phineas. “It is all very well to say that the Duke is incompetent, but I do not know that anything very wonderful is required in the way of genius. The Duke has held his own in both Houses successfully, and he is both honest and popular. I quite agree that a Prime Minister at the present day should be commonly honest, and more than commonly popular.”
“So you are all for the Duke, are you?” said Lady Laura, again smiling as she spoke to him.
“Certainly;—if we are deserted by Mr. Mildmay. Don’t you think so?”
“I don’t find it quite so easy to make up my mind as you do. I am inclined to think that Mr. Mildmay will form a government; and as long as there is that prospect, I need hardly commit myself to an opinion as to his probable successor.” Then the objectionable Mr. Kennedy took his leave, and Phineas was left alone with Lady Laura.
“It is glorious;—is it not?” he began, as soon as he found the field to be open for himself and his own manœuvring. But he was very young, and had not as yet learned the manner in which he might best advance his cause with such a woman as Lady Laura Standish. He was telling her too clearly that he could have no gratification in talking with her unless he could be allowed to have her all to himself. That might be very well if Lady Laura were in love with him, but would hardly be the way to reduce her to that condition.
“Mr. Finn,” said she, smiling as she spoke, “I am sure that you did not mean it, but you were uncourteous to my friend Mr. Kennedy.”
“Who? I? Was I? Upon my word, I didn’t intend to be uncourteous.”
“If I had thought you had intended it, of course I could not tell you of it. And now I take the liberty;—for it is a liberty—”
“Oh no.”
“Because I feel so anxious that you should do nothing to mar your chances as a rising man.”
“You are only too kind to me,—always.”
“I know how clever you are, and how excellent are all your instincts; but I see that you are a little impetuous. I wonder whether you will be angry if I take upon myself the task of mentor.”
“Nothing you could say would make me angry,—though you might make me very unhappy.”
“I will not do that if I can help it. A mentor ought to be very old, you know, and I am infinitely older than you are.”
“I should have thought it was the reverse;—indeed, I may say that I know that it is,” said Phineas.
“I am not talking of years. Years have very little to do with the comparative ages of men and women. A woman at forty is quite old, whereas a man at forty is young.” Phineas, remembering that he had put down Mr. Kennedy’s age as forty in his own mind, frowned when he heard this, and walked about the room in displeasure. “And therefore,” continued Lady Laura, “I talk to you as though I were a kind of grandmother.”
“You shall be my great-grandmother if you will only be kind enough to me to say what you really think.”
“You must not then be so impetuous, and you must be a little more careful to be civil to persons to whom you may not take any particular fancy. Now Mr. Kennedy is a man who may be very useful to you.”
“I do not want Mr. Kennedy to be of use to me.”
“That is what I call being impetuous,—being young,—being a boy. Why should not Mr. Kennedy be of use to you as well as any one else? You do not mean to conquer the world all by yourself.”
“No;—but there is something mean to me in the expressed idea that I should make use of any man,—and more especially of a man whom I don’t like.”
“And why do you not like him, Mr. Finn?”
“Because he is one of my Dr. Fells.”
“You don’t like him simply because he does not talk much. That may be a good reason why you should not make of him an intimate