Sybil by Benjamin Disraeli (book recommendations website TXT) 📕

remember hearing my father often say that when he stood for this county, our grandfather paid more than a hundred thousand pounds, and yet I know to this day there are accounts unsettled. Regularly every year I receive anonymous letters threatening me with fearful punishment if I don’t pay one hundred and fifty pounds for a breakfast at the Jolly Tinkers.”

“You jest: the matter indeed requires a serious vein. I wish these accounts to be settled at once.”

“And I should like to know where the funds are to come from! I have none. The quantity of barns I am building now is something tremendous! Then this rage for draining; it would dry up any purse. What think you of two million tiles this year? And rents⁠—to keep up which we are making these awful sacrifices⁠—they are merely nominal, or soon will be. They never will be satisfied till they have touched the land. That is clear to me. I am prepared for a reduction of five-and-twenty percent; if the corn laws are touched, it can’t be less than that. My mother ought to take it into consideration and reduce her jointure accordingly. But I dare say she will not; people are so selfish; particularly as she has given you this thousand pounds, which in fact after all comes out of my pocket.”

“All this you have said to me before. What does it mean? I fought this battle at the instigation of the family, from no feeling of my own. You are the head of the family and you were consulted on the step. Unless I had concluded that it was with your sanction, I certainly should not have made my appearance on the hustings.”

“I am very glad you did though,” said Lord Marney; “Parliament is a great point for our class: in these days especially, more even than in the old time. I was truly rejoiced at your success, and it mortified the Whigs about us most confoundedly. Some people thought there was only one family in the world to have their Richmond or their Malton. Getting you in for the old borough was really a coup.”

“Well now, to retain our interest,” said Egremont, “quick payment of our expenses is the most efficient way, believe me.”

“You have got six years, perhaps seven,” said Lord Marney, “and long before that I hope to find you the husband of Lady Joan Fitz-Warene.”

“I do not wish to connect the two contingencies,” said Egremont firmly.

“They are inseparable,” said Lord Marney.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I think this pedantic acquittance of an electioneering account is in the highest degree ridiculous, and that I cannot interfere in it. The legal expenses are you say paid; and if they were not, I should feel myself bound, as the head of the family, to defray them, but I can go no further. I cannot bring myself to sanction an expenditure for certainly very unnecessary, perhaps, and I much fear it, for illegal and very immoral purposes.”

“That really is your determination?”

“After the most mature reflection, prompted by a sincere solicitude for your benefit.”

“Well, George, I have often suspected it, but now I feel quite persuaded, that you are really the greatest humbug that ever existed.”

“Abuse is not argument, Mr. Egremont.”

“You are beneath abuse, as you are beneath every sentiment but one, which I most entirely feel,” and Egremont rose from the table.

“You may thank your own obstinacy and conceit,” said Lord Marney. “I took you to Mowbray Castle, and the cards were in your own hands if you chose to play them.”

“You have interfered with me once before on such a subject. Lord Marney,” said Egremont, with a kindling eye and a cheek pallid with rage.

“You had better not say that again,” said Lord Marney in a tone of menace.

“Why not?” asked Egremont fiercely. “Who and what are you to dare to address me thus?”

“I am your elder brother, sir, whose relationship to you is your only claim to the consideration of society.”

“A curse on the society that has fashioned such claims.” said Egremont in an heightened tone⁠—“claims founded in selfishness, cruelty, and fraud, and leading to demoralization, misery, and crime.”

“Claims which I will make you respect, at least in this house, sir,” said Lord Marney, springing from his chair.

“Touch me at your peril!” exclaimed Egremont, “or I will forget you are my mother’s son, and cleave you to the ground. You have been the blight of my life; you stole from me my bride, and now you would rob me of my honour.”

“Liar and villain!” exclaimed Lord Marney, darting forward: but at this moment his wife rushed into the apartment and clung to him. “For heaven’s sake,” she exclaimed, “What is all this? George, Charles, dearest George!”

“Let me go, Arabella.”

“Let him come on.”

But Lady Marney gave a piercing shriek, and held out her arms to keep the brothers apart. A sound was heard at the other door; there was nothing in the world that Lord Marney dreaded so much as that his servants should witness a domestic scene. He sprang forward to the door to prevent anyone entering; partially opening it, he said Lady Marney was unwell and desired her maid; returning, he found Arabella insensible on the ground, and Egremont vanished!

III

It was a wet morning; there had been a heavy rain since dawn, which impelled by a gusty southwester came driving on a crowd of women and girls who were assembled before the door of a still unclosed shop. Some protected themselves with umbrellas; some sought shelter beneath a row of old elms that grew alongside the canal that fronted the house. Notwithstanding the weather, the clack of tongues was incessant.

“I thought I saw the wicket of the yard gates open,” said a woman.

“So did I,” said her neighbour; “but it was shut again immediately.”

“It was only Master Joseph,” said a third. “He likes to see us getting wet through.”

“If they would only let us into the yard and get under one of