III
LADY ANN SPENWORTH TOUCHES RELUCTANTLY ON DIVORCE
Lady Ann (to a friend of proved discretion): I have been brought up in a different school, that's all. "Whom God hath joined..." I don't ask any one to share my feelings and I'm not so foolish as to say I won't receive people who have taken a step which is at least legal, however much one may deplore the present ease of divorce. I do indeed try to differentiate in my attitude towards the guilty party, but in this I am more than ever "ploughing a lonely furrow," as my boy Will rather picturesquely expresses it...
Nowadays it is unfashionable to heed the teachings of religion; but I should have thought that the least consideration for patriotism, stability... My father's maxim was that family life is the basis of the state and that, when once you sanction the principle of divorce, you are undermining the foundations of the commonwealth. So I have at least been consistent...
That is perhaps more important than you think. The cynic cannot see that one's principles are independent of personal considerations. If they ever have the ill fortune to coincide even in appearance... Indeed yes! I happen to know what I am talking about... Forgive me if I spoke sharply; but one's nerves are not of iron, and it is not pleasant to be charged with conspiracy by the members of one's own family. Oh, not Spenworth! We have hardly met for years, I am thankful to say, though my husband has more than once tried to bring about a reconciliation. I have no personal animus; but, if the head of an honoured family chooses to drag his name in the mire, he shall at least not say that he has had countenance or support from even so humble a person as his sister-in-law. I was referring to the other side, my own people; I have an unforgiving little enemy, I fear, in my niece Phyllida; I should mind that less if Brackenbury and his poor wife did not seem to aid and abet her. Loyalty to the family, I should have thought... But, once again, I was brought up in a different school. I have told my brother, until I am tired, he ought to send her right away. It was a disappointment... Goodness me, it is a disappointment when one cries for the moon; and, though I thought this Colonel Butler a decent, manly fellow, he was really nobody. He saw, without my telling him, that every one would say he was marrying her for her money... I won't call it an escape for Phyllida, because that always sounds so spiteful. But I will allow no one to say I made him throw her over so that I might keep her for my own boy!
I want you to tell me frankly how much you have heard. Literally nothing? Then you will—the very next time you go to the Hall. Not satisfied with inventing this abominable story, Phyllida feels it her duty to inflict it upon any one who will listen. But you must have seen about the divorce? Not even that? Well, you are wise; these things are unsavoury reading. The case was tried in the summer—"Spenworth's washing-day", as my boy called it—, and the decree will be made absolute in a few weeks' time.
It is the fashion to say that my brother-in-law was more sinned against than sinning. Does not that formula always put you on your guard, so to say? He was a mere boy when he succeeded to the title; an immense estate like Cheniston offered too many temptations; his good looks made him a prey for all the harpies; he was too kindly ever to say "no" even to the most dissolute of his associates. And so forth and so on... Goodness me! Arthur—my husband—was two years younger; and, if his old father's iniquitous will did not leave him enough money to tempt the hangers-on, at least he did not play ducks and drakes with what he had. It is more a question of character than of income. And Arthur had his share of good looks, as you can see from Will. No! Whatever Spenworth did, he could always buy indulgence. Establish for yourself the reputation of "a good fellow"—whatever that may mean—; and you will walk on roses all your life...
One must assume that he thought the marriage would be a success, but I am sure no one else did. I knew Spenworth, you see. It is ancient history now, but it was only when I destroyed his last hope by marrying Arthur that he turned in desperation to Kathleen Manorby ... after remaining disconsolate for nearly ten years. For her and her like my Will coined the description "chocolate-box beauty." She is still attractive after twenty years... I tried to warn her, so far as one could without having one's motives misconstrued; but she was glamoured by the money and the title. She had several offers, I believe, from men rather more in her own milieu, but it was a case of not being able to afford the luxury of marrying a poor man. Otherwise her first love, young Laughton, who broke his heart over her and transferred to the Indian Army... I warned her that Spenworth would be unfaithful before they had been married a year, but she was too sure of her own charm and power.
Within a year! Within three months... Kathleen is a fool, but one may feel for any woman who has had to put up with so many sordid humiliations. If she had borne him a son, it might have been different, but one girl after another... Four of them, and no heir to Cheniston. Superstitious people would tell you that it was a judgement on Spenworth for his past life and on her for her treatment of poor young Laughton... And, little by little, Spenworth seemed to lose all regard for human decency, until one was tempted to forget poor Kathleen's disappointment and to feel that Providence had decided that no son of his should ever reign in his stead. I am utterly free from superstition myself; but it did seem curious... He, I fancy, never quite gave up hope; as I felt it my duty to tell him, he was on such good terms with this world that he could not imagine another world in which his behaviour might be less leniently regarded. When the fourth girl was born and we realized that Will must ultimately succeed, I suggested that something might now be done to enable our boy to live in a manner befitting the heir to an historic title. Spenworth gave one of his great laughs and begged me to wait until he was dead before I cast lots for his raiment, adding that he had no intention of dying yet awhile. The usual blend of arrogance and blasphemy...
Yes, my husband is the only brother. It is a matter of rather less than no interest to either of us, for Spenworth will last our time. His constitution is proof against even his own assaults on it. Besides, one would hate the idea of waiting to step into a dead man's shoes... So really the heir is Will, but he is in no hurry; Cheniston is a night-mare to him, he does not desire the place. Perhaps he dreads having to cleanse the Augean stable. You have never stayed there, of course; I can say without unkindness that, wherever a naked savage could have made one error in taste, poor Kathleen has made three...