Chapter LIV: Sunday After the Battle

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　The mansion of Sir Pitt Crawley, in Great Gaunt Street,was just beginning to dress itself for the day, as Rawdon,in his evening costume, which he had now worntwo days, passed by the scared female who was scouringthe steps and entered into his brother's study. LadyJane, in her morning-gown, was up and above stairs inthe nursery superintending the toilettes of her childrenand listening to the morning prayers which the littlecreatures performed at her knee. Every morning she andthey performed this duty privately, and before the publicceremonial at which Sir Pitt presided and at which all thepeople of the household were expected to assemble.Rawdon sat down in the study before the Baronet's table,set out with the orderly blue books and the letters, theneatly docketed bills and symmetrical pamphlets, thelocked account-books, desks, and dispatch boxes, theBible, the Quarterly Review, and the Court Guide, whichall stood as if on parade awaiting the inspection of theirchief.

　　A book of family sermons, one of which Sir Pitt wasin the habit of administering to his family on Sundaymornings, lay ready on the study table, and awaiting hisjudicious selection. And by the sermon-book was theObserver newspaper, damp and neatly folded, and forSir Pitt's own private use. His gentleman alone took theopportunity of perusing the newspaper before he laid itby his master's desk. Before he had brought it into thestudy that morning, he had read in the journal a flamingaccount of "Festivities at Gaunt House," with the namesof all the distinguished personages invited by tho Marquisof Steyne to meet his Royal Highness. Having madecomments upon this entertainment to the housekeeperand her niece as they were taking early tea and hotbuttered toast in the former lady's apartment, andwondered how the Rawding Crawleys could git on, the valethad damped and folded the paper once more, so that itlooked quite fresh and innocent against the arrival ofthe master of the house.

　　Poor Rawdon took up the paper and began to try andread it until his brother should arrive. But the print fellblank upon his eyes, and he did not know in the leastwhat he was reading. The Government news andappointments (which Sir Pitt as a public man was boundto peruse, otherwise he would by no means permit theintroduction of Sunday papers into his household), thetheatrical criticisms, the fight for a hundred poundsa side between the Barking Butcher and the TutburyPet, the Gaunt House chronicle itself, which contained amost complimentary though guarded account of thefamous charades of which Mrs. Becky had been theheroine--all these passed as in a haze before Rawdon, as hesat waiting the arrival of the chief of the family.

　　Punctually, as the shrill-toned bell of the black marblestudy clock began to chime nine, Sir Pitt made hisappearance, fresh, neat, smugly shaved, with a waxy cleanface, and stiff shirt collar, his scanty hair combed andoiled, trimming his nails as he descended the stairsmajestically, in a starched cravat and a grey flanneldressing-gown--a real old English gentleman, in a word--a model of neatness and every propriety. He started whenhe saw poor Rawdon in his study in tumbled clothes, withblood-shot eyes, and his hair over his face. He thoughthis brother was not sober, and had been out all night onsome orgy. "Good gracious, Rawdon," he said, with ablank face, "what brings you here at this time of themorning? Why ain't you at home?"

　　"Home," said Rawdon with a wild laugh. "Don't befrightened, Pitt. I'm not drunk. Shut the door; I want tospeak to you."

　　Pitt closed the door and came up to the table, wherehe sat down in the other arm-chair--that one placed forthe reception of the steward, agent, or confidentialvisitor who came to transact business with the Baronet--and trimmed his nails more vehemently than ever.

　　"Pitt, it's all over with me," the Colonel said after apause. "I'm done."

　　"I always said it would come to this," the Baronetcried peevishly, and beating a tune with his clean-trimmed nails. "I warned you a thousand times. I can'thelp you any more. Every shilling of my money is tiedup. Even the hundred pounds that Jane took you lastnight were promised to my lawyer to-morrow morning,and the want of it will put me to great inconvenience.I don't mean to say that I won't assist you ultimately.But as for paying your creditors in full, I might as wellhope to pay the National Debt. It is madness, sheermadness, to think of such a thing. You must come to acompromise. It's a painful thing for the family, but everybodydoes it. There was George Kitely, Lord Ragland's son,went through the Court last week, and was what theycall whitewashed, I believe. Lord Ragland would not paya shilling for him, and--"

　　"It's not money I want," Rawdon broke in. "I'm notcome to you about myself. Never mind what happens tome "

　　"What is the matter, then?" said Pitt, somewhatrelieved.

　　"It's the boy," said Rawdon in a husky voice. "I wantyou to promise me that you will take charge of himwhen I'm gone. That dear good wife of yours has alwaysbeen good to him; and he's fonder of her than he is ofhis . . .--Damn it. Look here, Pitt--you know that Iwas to have had Miss Crawley's money. I wasn't broughtup like a younger brother, but was always encouraged tobe extravagant and kep idle. But for this I might havebeen quite a different man. I didn't do my duty with theregiment so bad. You know how I was thrown overabout the money, and who got it."

　　"After the sacrifices I have made, and the manner inwhich I have stood by you, I think this sort of reproachis useless," Sir Pitt said. "Your marriage was your owndoing, not mine."

　　"That's over now," said Rawdon. "That's over now."And the words were wrenched from him with a groan,which made his brother start.

　　"Good God! is she dead?" Sir Pitt said with a voiceof genuine alarm and commiseration.

　　"I wish I was," Rawdon replied. "If it wasn't for littleRawdon I'd have cut my throat this morning--and thatdamned villain's too."

　　Sir Pitt instantly guessed the truth and surmised thatLord Steyne was the person whose life Rawdon wished totake. The Colonel told his senior briefly, and in brokenaccents, the circumstances of the case. "It was a regularplan between that scoundrel and her," he said. "Thebailiffs were put upon me; I was taken as I was goingout of his house; when I wrote to her for money, shesaid she was ill in bed and put me off to another day.And when I got home I found her in diamonds andsitting with that villain alone." He then went on to describehurriedly the personal conflict with Lord Steyne. To anaffair of that nature, of course, he said, there was butone issue, and after his conference with his brother, hewas going away to make the necessary arrangements forthe meeting which must ensue. "And as it may endfatally with me," Rawdon said with a broken voice, "andas the boy has no mother, I must leave him to you andJane, Pitt--only it will be a comfort to me if you willpromise me to be his friend."

　　The elder brother was much affected, and shookRawdon's hand with a cordiality seldom exhibited by him.Rawdon passed his hand over his shaggy eyebrows."Thank you, brother," said he. "I know I can trust yourword."

　　"I will, upon my honour," the Baronet said. And thus,and almost mutely, this bargain was struck betweenthem.

　　Then Rawdon took out of his pocket the littlepocket-book which he had discovered in Becky's desk, and fromwhich he drew a bundle of the notes which it contained."Here's six hundred," he said--"you didn't know I wasso rich. I want you to give the money to Briggs, who lentit to us--and who was kind to the boy--and I've alwaysfelt ashamed of having taken the poor old woman'smoney. And here's some more--I've only kept back afew pounds--which Becky may as well have, to get onwith." As he spoke he took hold of the other notes togive to his brother, but his hands shook, and he was soagitated that the pocket-book fell from him, and out ofit the thousand-pound note which had been the last ofthe unlucky Becky's winnings.

　　Pitt stooped and picked them up, amazed at so muchwealth. "Not that," Rawdon said. "I hope to put a bulletinto the man whom that belongs to." He had thought tohimself, it would be a fine revenge to wrap a ball in thenote and kill Steyne with it.

　　After this colloquy the brothers once more shookhands and parted. Lady Jane had heard of the Colonel'sarrival, and was waiting for her husband in the adjoiningdining-room, with female instinct, auguring evil. Thedoor of the dining-room happened to be left open, andthe lady of course was issuing from it as the two brotherspassed out of the study. She held out her hand toRawdon and said she was glad he was come to breakfast,though she could perceive, by his haggard unshorn faceand the dark looks of her husband, that there was verylittle question of breakfast between them. Rawdonmuttered some excuses about an engagement, squeezing hardthe timid little hand which his sister-in-law reached outto him. Her imploring eyes could read nothing butcalamity in his face, but he went away without anotherword. Nor did Sir Pitt vouchsafe her any explanation.The children came up to salute him, and he kissed themin his usual frigid manner. The mother took both of themclose to herself, and held a hand of each of them as theyknelt down to prayers, which Sir Pitt read to them, andto the servants in their Sunday suits or liveries, rangedupon chairs on the other side of the hissing tea-urn.Breakfast was so late that day, in consequence of thedelays which had occurred, that the church-bells beganto ring whilst they were sitting over their meal; andLady Jane was too ill, she said, to go to church, thoughher thoughts had been entirely astray during the periodof family devotion.

　　Rawdon Crawley meanwhile hurried on from GreatGaunt Street, and knocking at the great bronzeMedusa's head which stands on the portal of Gaunt House,brought out the purple Silenus in a red and silverwaistcoat who acts as porter of that palace. The man wasscared also by the Colonel's dishevelled appearance, andbarred the way as if afraid that the other was going toforce it. But Colonel Crawley only took out a card andenjoined him particularly to send it in to Lord Steyne,and to mark the address written on it, and say thatColonel Crawley would be all day after one o'clock at theRegent Club in St. James's Street--not at home. The fatred-faced man looked after him with astonishment as hestrode away; so did the people in their Sunday clotheswho were out so early; the charity-boys with shiningfaces, the greengrocer lolling at his door, and the publicanshutting his shutters in the sunshine, against servicecommenced. The people joked at the cab-stand abouthis appearance, as he took a carriage there, and told thedriver to drive him to Knightsbridge Barracks.

　　All the bells were jangling and tolling as he reachedthat place. He might have seen his old acquaintanceAmelia on her way from Brompton to Russell Square,had he been looking out. Troops of schools were ontheir march to church, the shiny pavement and outsidesof coaches in the suburbs were thronged with people outupon their Sunday pleasure; but the Colonel was muchtoo busy to take any heed of these phenomena, and,arriving at Knightsbridge, speedily made his way up to theroom of his old friend and comrade Captain Macmurdo,who Crawley found, to his satisfaction, was in barracks.

　　Captain Macmurdo, a veteran officer and Waterlooman, greatly liked by his regiment, in which want ofmoney alone prevented him from attaining the highestranks, was enjoying the forenoon calmly in bed. He hadbeen at a fast supper-party, given the night before byCaptain the Honourable George Cinqbars, at his housein Brompton Square, to several young men of theregiment, and a number of ladies of the corps de ballet, andold Mac, who was at home with people of all ages andranks, and consorted with generals, dog-fanciers, opera-dancers, bruisers, and every kind of person, in a word,was resting himself after the night's labours, and, notbeing on duty, was in bed.

　　His room was hung round with boxing, sporting, anddancing pictures, presented to him by comrades as theyretired from the regiment, and married and settled intoquiet life. And as he was now nearly fifty years of age,twenty-four of which he had passed in the corps, he hada singular museum. He was one of the best shots inEngland, and, for a heavy man, one of the best riders;indeed, he and Crawley had been rivals when the latterwas in the Army. To be brief, Mr. Macmurdo was lyingin bed, reading in Bell's Life an account of that veryfight between the Tutbury Pet and the Barking Butcher,which has been before mentioned--a venerable bristlywarrior, with a little close-shaved grey head, with a silknightcap, a red face and nose, and a great dyedmoustache.

　　When Rawdon told the Captain he wanted a friend, thelatter knew perfectly well on what duty of friendship hewas called to act, and indeed had conducted scores ofaffairs for his acquaintances with the greatest prudenceand skill. His Royal Highness the late lamentedCommander-in-Chief had had the greatest regard forMacmurdo on this account, and he was the common refugeof gentlemen in trouble.

　　"What's the row about, Crawley, my boy?" said theold warrior. "No more gambling business, hay, like thatwhen we shot Captain Marker?"

　　"It's about--about my wife," Crawley answered,casting down his eyes and turning very red.

　　The other gave a whistle. "I always said she'd throwyou over," he began--indeed there were bets in theregiment and at the clubs regarding the probable fate ofColonel Crawley, so lightly was his wife's characteresteemed by his comrades and the world; but seeing thesavage look with which Rawdon answered the expressionof this opinion, Macmurdo did not think fit to enlargeupon it further.

　　"Is there no way out of it, old boy?" the Captaincontinued in a grave tone. "Is it only suspicion, you know,or--or what is it? Any letters? Can't you keep it quiet?Best not make any noise about a thing of that sort if youcan help it." "Think of his only finding her out now," theCaptain thought to himself, and remembered a hundredparticular conversations at the mess-table, in which Mrs.Crawley's reputation had been torn to shreds.

　　"There's no way but one out of it," Rawdon replied--"and there's only a way out of it for one of us, Mac--doyou understand? I was put out of the way--arrested--Ifound 'em alone together. I told him he was a liar and acoward, and knocked him down and thrashed him."

　　"Serve him right," Macmurdo said. "Who is it?"

　　Rawdon answered it was Lord Steyne.

　　"The deuce! a Marquis! they said he--that is, theysaid you--"

　　"What the devil do you mean?" roared out Rawdon;"do you mean that you ever heard a fellow doubt aboutmy wife and didn't tell me, Mac?"

　　"The world's very censorious, old boy," the otherreplied. "What the deuce was the good of my telling youwhat any tom-fools talked about?"

　　"It was damned unfriendly, Mac," said Rawdon, quiteovercome; and, covering his face with his hands, he gaveway to an emotion, the sight of which caused the toughold campaigner opposite him to wince with sympathy."Hold up, old boy," he said; "great man or not, we'll puta bullet in him, damn him. As for women, they're all so."

　　"You don't know how fond I was of that one,"Rawdon said, half-inarticulately. "Damme, I followed her likea footman. I gave up everything I had to her. I'm abeggar because I would marry her. By Jove, sir, I've pawnedmy own watch in order to get her anything she fancied;and she she's been making a purse for herself all thetime, and grudged me a hundred pound to get me out ofquod." He then fiercely and incoherently, and with anagitation under which his counsellor had never beforeseen him labour, told Macmurdo the circumstances ofthe story. His adviser caught at some stray hints in it."She may be innocent, after all," he said. "She saysso. Steyne has been a hundred times alone with her inthe house before."

　　"It may be so," Rawdon answered sadly, "but this don'tlook very innocent": and he showed the Captain thethousand-pound note which he had found in Becky'spocket-book. "This is what he gave her, Mac, and shekep it unknown to me; and with this money in the house,she refused to stand by me when I was locked up." TheCaptain could not but own that the secreting of themoney had a very ugly look.

　　Whilst they were engaged in their conference, Rawdondispatched Captain Macmurdo's servant to Curzon Street,with an order to the domestic there to give up a bag ofclothes of which the Colonel had great need. And duringthe man's absence, and with great labour and a Johnson'sDictionary, which stood them in much stead, Rawdonand his second composed a letter, which the latterwas to send to Lord Steyne. Captain Macmurdo had thehonour of waiting upon the Marquis of Steyne, on the partof Colonel Rawdon Crawley, and begged to intimate thathe was empowered by the Colonel to make any arrangementsfor the meeting which, he had no doubt, it was hisLordship's intention to demand, and which the circumstancesof the morning had rendered inevitable. CaptainMacmurdo begged Lord Steyne, in the most politemanner, to appoint a friend, with whom he (Captain M'M.)might communicate, and desired that the meeting mighttake place with as little delay as possible.

　　In a postscript the Captain stated that he had in hispossession a bank-note for a large amount, whichColonel Crawley had reason to suppose was the property ofthe Marquis of Steyne. And he was anxious, on theColonel's behalf, to give up the note to its owner.

　　By the time this note was composed, the Captain'sservant returned from his mission to Colonel Crawley'shouse in Curzon Street, but without the carpet-bag andportmanteau, for which he had been sent, and with avery puzzled and odd face.

　　"They won't give 'em up," said the man; "there's aregular shinty in the house, and everything at sixes andsevens. The landlord's come in and took possession. Theservants was a drinkin' up in the drawingroom. Theysaid--they said you had gone off with the plate,Colonel"--the man added after a pause--"One of theservants is off already. And Simpson, the man as was verynoisy and drunk indeed, says nothing shall go out of thehouse until his wages is paid up."

　　The account of this little revolution in May Fairastonished and gave a little gaiety to an otherwise verytriste conversation. The two officers laughed at Rawdon'sdiscomfiture.

　　"I'm glad the little 'un isn't at home," Rawdon said,biting his nails. "You remember him, Mac, don't you, inthe Riding School? How he sat the kicker to be sure!didn't he?"

　　"That he did, old boy," said the good-natured Captain.

　　Little Rawdon was then sitting, one of fifty gown boys,in the Chapel of Whitefriars School, thinking, not aboutthe sermon, but about going home next Saturday, whenhis father would certainly tip him and perhaps wouldtake him to the play.

　　"He's a regular trump, that boy," the father went on,still musing about his son. "I say, Mac, if anything goeswrong--if I drop--I should like you to--to go and seehim, you know, and say that I was very fond of him, andthat. And--dash it--old chap, give him these gold sleeve-buttons: it's all I've got." He covered his face with hisblack hands, over which the tears rolled and madefurrows of white. Mr. Macmurdo had also occasion to takeoff his silk night-cap and rub it across his eyes.

　　"Go down and order some breakfast," he said to hisman in a loud cheerful voice. "What'll you have, Crawley?Some devilled kidneys and a herring--let's say. And,Clay, lay out some dressing things for the Colonel: wewere always pretty much of a size, Rawdon, my boy, andneither of us ride so light as we did when we firstentered the corps." With which, and leaving the Colonel todress himself, Macmurdo turned round towards the wall,and resumed the perusal of Bell's Life, until such time ashis friend's toilette was complete and he was at libertyto commence his own.

　　This, as he was about to meet a lord, CaptainMacmurdo performed with particular care. He waxed hismustachios into a state of brilliant polish and put on atight cravat and a trim buff waistcoat, so that all theyoung officers in the mess-room, whither Crawley hadpreceded his friend, complimented Mac on his appearanceat breakfast and asked if he was going to be marriedthat Sunday.