The Eustace Diamonds | Page 3

admitted. But it was true that Sir
Florian was at her feet, and that by a proper use of her various charms,
the pawned jewels included, she might bring him to an offer. Mr.
Benjamin made his inquiries, and acceded to the proposal. He did not
tell Miss Greystock that she had lied to him in that matter of her age,
though he had discovered the lie. Sir Florian would no doubt pay the
bill for his wife without any arguments as to the legality of the claim.
From such information as Mr. Benjamin could acquire, he thought that
there would be a marriage, and that the speculation was on the whole in
his favour. Lizzie recovered her jewels and Mr. Benjamin was in
possession of a promissory note purporting to have been executed by a
person who was no longer a minor. The jeweller was ultimately
successful in his views, and so was the lady.
Lady Linlithgow saw the jewels come back, one by one, ring added to
ring on the little taper fingers, the rubies for the neck and the pendent
yellow earrings. Though Lizzie was in mourning for her father, still
these things were allowed to be visible. The countess was not the
woman to see them without inquiry, and she inquired vigorously. She
threatened, stormed, and protested. She attempted even a raid upon the

young lady's jewel-box. But she was not successful. Lizzie snapped and
snarled and held her own, for at that time the match with Sir Florian
was near its accomplishment, and the countess understood too well the
value of such a disposition of her niece to risk it at the moment by any
open rupture. The little house in Brook Street--for the house was very
small and very comfortless--a house that had been squeezed in, as it
were, between two others without any fitting space for it--did not
contain a happy family. One bedroom, and that the biggest, was
appropriated to the Earl of Linlithgow, the son of the countess, a young
man who passed perhaps five nights in town during the year. Other
inmate there was none besides the aunt and the niece and the four
servants, of whom one was Lizzie's own maid. Why should such a
countess have troubled herself with the custody of such a niece?
Simply because the countess regarded it as a duty. Lady Linlithgow
was worldly, stingy, ill-tempered, selfish, and mean. Lady Linlithgow
would cheat a butcher out of a mutton chop, or a cook out of a month's
wages, if she could do so with some slant of legal wind in her favour.
She would tell any number of lies to carry a point in what she believed
to be social success. It was said of her that she cheated at cards. In
back-biting, no venomous old woman between Bond Street and Park
Lane could beat her--or, more wonderful still, no venomous old man at
the clubs. But nevertheless she recognised certain duties, and
performed them, though she hated them. She went to church, not
merely that people might see her there--as to which in truth she cared
nothing--but because she thought it was right. And she took in Lizzie
Greystock, whom she hated almost as much as she did sermons,
because the admiral's wife had been her sister, and she recognised a
duty. But, having thus bound herself to Lizzie--who was a beauty--of
course it became the first object of her life to get rid of Lizzie by a
marriage. And though she would have liked to think that Lizzie would
be tormented all her days, though she thoroughly believed that Lizzie
deserved to be tormented, she set her heart upon a splendid match. She
would at any rate be able to throw it daily in her niece's teeth that the
splendour was of her doing. Now a marriage with Sir Florian Eustace
would be very splendid, and therefore she was unable to go into the
matter of the jewels with that rigour which in other circumstances she
would certainly have displayed.

The match with Sir Florian Eustace--for a match it came to be--was
certainly very splendid. Sir Florian was a young man about eight and
twenty, very handsome, of immense wealth, quite unencumbered,
moving in the best circles, popular, so far prudent that he never risked
his fortune on the turf or in gambling-houses, with the reputation of a
gallant soldier, and a most devoted lover. There were two facts
concerning him which might, or might not, be taken as objections. He
was vicious, and--he was dying. When a friend, intending to be kind,
hinted the latter circumstance to Lady Linlithgow, the countess blinked
and winked and nodded, and then swore that she had procured medical
advice on the subject. Medical advice declared that Sir