"My dear Charles," said Lady Marney to Egremont the morning
after the Derby, as breakfasting with her in her boudoir he
detailed some of the circumstances of the race, "we must
forget your naughty horse. I sent you a little note this
morning, because I wished to see you most particularly before
you went out. Affairs," continued Lady Marney, first looking
round the chamber to see whether there were any fairy
listening to her state secrets, "affairs are critical."
"No doubt of that," thought Egremont, the horrid phantom of
settling-day seeming to obtrude itself between his mother and
himself; but not knowing precisely at what she was driving, he
merely sipped his tea, and innocently replied, "Why?"
"There will be a dissolution," said Lady Marney.
"What are we coming in?"
Lady Marney shook her head.
"The present men will not better their majority," said
Egremont.
"I hope not," said Lady Marney.
"Why you always said, that with another general election we
must come in, whoever dissolved."
"But that was with the court in our favour," rejoined Lady
Marney mournfully.
"What, has the king changed?" said Egremont. "I thought it
was all right."
"All was right," said Lady Marney. "These men would have been
turned out again, had he only lived three months more."
"Lived!" exclaimed Egremont.
"Yes," said Lady Marney; "the king is dying."
Slowly delivering himself of an ejaculation, Egremont leant
back in his chair.
"He may live a month," said Lady Marnev; "he cannot live two. It is the greatest of secrets; known at this moment only to four individuals, and I communicate it to you, my dear Charles, in that absolute confidence which I hope will always subsist between us, because it is an event that may greatly affect your career."
"How so, my dear mother?"
"Marbury! I have settled with Mr Tadpole that you shall stand
for the old borough. With the government in our hands, as I
had anticipated at the general election, success I think was
certain: under the circumstances which we must encounter, the
struggle will be more severe, but I think we shall do it: and
it will be a happy day for me to have our own again, and to
see you in Parliament, my dear child."
"Well, my dear mother, I should like very much to be in
Parliament, and particularly to sit for the old borough; but I
fear the contest will be very expensive," said Egremont
inquiringly.
"Oh! I have no doubt," said Lady Marney, "that we shall have
some monster of the middle class, some tinker or tailor, or
candlestick-maker, with his long purse, preaching reform and
practising corruption: exactly as the liberals did under
Walpole: bribery was unknown in the time of the Stuarts; but
we have a capital registration, Mr Tadpole tells me. And a
young candidate with the old name will tell," said Lady
Marney, with a smile: "and I shall go down and canvass, and we
must do what we can."
"I have great faith in your canvassing," said Egremont; "but
still, at the same time, the powder and shot—"
"Are essential," said Lady Marney, "I know it, in these
corrupt days: but Marney will of course supply those. It is
the least he can do: regaining the family influence, and
letting us hold up our heads again. I shall write to him the
moment I am justified," said Lady Marney, "perhaps you will do
so yourself, Charles."
"Why, considering I have not seen my brother for two years, and we did not part on the best possible terms—"
"But that is all forgotten."
"By your good offices, dear mother, who are always doing good: and yet," continued Egremont, after a moment's pause, "I am not disposed to write to Marney, especially to ask a favour."
"Well, I will write," said Lady Marney; "though I cannot admit
it is any favour. Perhaps it would be better that you should
see him first. I cannot understand why he keeps so at the
Abbey. I am sure I found it a melancholy place enough in my
time. I wish you had gone down there, Charles, if it had been
only for a few days."
"Well I did not, my dear mother, and I cannot go now. I shall
trust to you. But are you quite sure that the king is going
to die?"