THE MASONS OF GROBY PARK

Groby Park is about seven miles from Leeds, in the direction of Bradford, and thither on the morning after the scene described in the last chapter Mr. Dockwrath was driven in one of the gigs belonging to the Bull Inn.  The park itself is spacious, but is flat and uninteresting, being surrounded by a thin belt of new-looking fir-trees, and containing but very little old or handsome timber.  There are on the high road two very important lodges, between which is a large ornamented gate, and from thence an excellent road leads to the mansion, situated in the very middle of the domain.  The house is Greek in its style of architecture, ­at least so the owner says; and if a portico with a pediment and seven Ionic columns makes a house Greek, the house in Groby Park undoubtedly is Greek.

Here lived Mr. and Mrs. Mason, the three Misses Mason, and occasionally the two young Messrs. Mason; for the master of Groby Park was blessed with five children.  He himself was a big, broad, heavy-browed man, in whose composition there was nothing of tenderness, nothing of poetry, and nothing of taste; but I cannot say that he was on the whole a bad man.  He was just in his dealings, or at any rate endeavoured to be so.  He strove hard to do his duty as a county magistrate against very adverse circumstances.  He endeavoured to enable his tenants and labourers to live.  He was severe to his children, and was not loved by them; but nevertheless they were dear to him, and he endeavoured to do his duty by them.  The wife of his bosom was not a pleasant woman, but nevertheless he did his duty by her; that is, he neither deserted her, nor beat her, nor locked her up.  I am not sure that he would not have been justified in doing one of these three things, or even all the three; for Mrs. Mason of Groby Park was not a pleasant woman.

But yet he was a bad man in that he could never forget and never forgive.  His mind and heart were equally harsh and hard and inflexible.  He was a man who considered that it behoved him as a man to resent all injuries, and to have his pound of flesh in all cases.  In his inner thoughts he had ever boasted to himself that he had paid all men all that he owed.  He had, so he thought, injured no one in any of the relations of life.  His tradesmen got their money regularly.  He answered every man’s letter.  He exacted nothing from any man for which he did not pay.  He never ill-used a servant either by bad language or by over-work.  He never amused himself, but devoted his whole time to duties.  He would fain even have been hospitable, could he have gotten his neighbours to come to him and have induced his wife to put upon the table sufficient food for them to eat.

Such being his virtues, what right had any one to injure him?  When he got from his grocer adulterated coffee, ­he analyzed the coffee, as his half-brother had done the guano, ­he would have flayed the man alive if the law would have allowed him.  Had he not paid the man monthly, giving him the best price as though for the best article?  When he was taken in with a warranty for a horse, he pursued the culprit to the uttermost.  Maid-servants who would not come from their bedrooms at six o’clock, he would himself disturb while enjoying their stolen slumbers.  From his children he exacted all titles of respect, because he had a right to them.  He wanted nothing that belonged to any one else, but he could not endure that aught should be kept from him which he believed to be his own.  It may be imagined, therefore, in what light he esteemed Lady Mason and her son, and how he regarded their residence at Orley Farm, seeing that he firmly believed that Orley Farm was his own, if all the truth were known.

I have already hinted that Mrs. Mason was not a delightful woman.  She had been a beauty, and still imagined that she had not lost all pretension to be so considered.  She spent, therefore, a considerable portion of her day in her dressing-room, spent a great deal of money for clothes, and gave herself sundry airs.  She was a little woman with long eyes, and regular eyelashes, with a straight nose, and thin lips and regular teeth.  Her face was oval, and her hair was brown.  It had at least once been all brown, and that which was now seen was brown also.  But, nevertheless, although she was possessed of all these charms, you might look at her for ten days together, and on the eleventh you would not know her if you met her in the streets.

But the appearance of Mrs. Mason was not her forte.  She had been a beauty; but if it had been her lot to be known in history, it was not as a beauty that she would have been famous.  Parsimony was her great virtue, and a power of saving her strong point.  I have said that she spent much money in dress, and some people will perhaps think that the two points of character are not compatible.  Such people know nothing of a true spirit of parsimony.  It is from the backs and bellies of other people that savings are made with the greatest constancy and the most satisfactory results.

The parsimony of a mistress of a household is best displayed on matters eatable; ­on matters eatable and drinkable; for there is a fine scope for domestic savings in tea, beer, and milk.  And in such matters chiefly did Mrs. Mason operate, going as far as she dared towards starving even her husband.  But nevertheless she would feed herself in the middle of the day, having a roast fowl with bread sauce in her own room.  The miser who starves himself and dies without an ounce of flesh on his bones, while his skinny head lies on a bag of gold, is after all, respectable.  There has been a grand passion in his life, and that grandest work of man, self-denial.  You cannot altogether despise one who has clothed himself with rags and fed himself with bone-scrapings, while broadcloth and ortolans were within his easy reach.  But there are women, wives and mothers of families, who would give the bone-scrapings to their husbands and the bones to their servants, while they hide the ortolans for themselves; and would dress children in rags, while they cram chests, drawers, and boxes with silks and satins for their own backs.  Such a woman one can thoroughly despise, and even hate; and such a woman was Mrs. Mason of Groby Park.

I shall not trouble the reader at present with much description of the young Masons.  The eldest son was in the army, and the younger at Cambridge, both spending much more money than their father allowed them.  Not that he, in this respect, was specially close-fisted.  He ascertained what was sufficient, ­amply sufficient as he was told by the colonel of the regiment and the tutor of the college, ­and that amount he allowed, assuring both Joseph and John that if they spent more, they would themselves have to pay for it out of the moneys which should enrich them in future years.  But how could the sons of such a mother be other than spendthrifts?  Of course they were extravagant; of course they spent more than they should have done; and their father resolved that he would keep his word with them religiously.

The daughters were much less fortunate, having no possible means of extravagance allowed to them.  Both the father and mother decided that they should go out into the county society, and therefore their clothing was not absolutely of rags.  But any young lady who does go into society, whether it be of county or town, will fully understand the difference between a liberal and a stingy wardrobe.  Girls with slender provisions of millinery may be fit to go out, ­quite fit in their father’s eyes; and yet all such going out may be matter of intense pain.  It is all very well for the world to say that a girl should be happy without reference to her clothes.  Show me such a girl, and I will show you one whom I should be very sorry that a boy of mine should choose as his sweetheart.

The three Misses Mason, as they always were called by the Groby Park people, had been christened Diana, Creusa, and Penelope, their mother having a passion for classic literature, which she indulged by a use of Lempriere’s dictionary.  They were not especially pretty, nor were they especially plain.  They were well grown and healthy, and quite capable of enjoying themselves in any of the amusements customary to young ladies, ­if only the opportunities were afforded them.

Mr. Dockwrath had thought it well to write to Mr. Mason, acquainting that gentleman with his intended visit.  Mr. Mason, he said to himself, would recognise his name, and know whence he came, and under such circumstances would be sure to see him, although the express purpose of the proposed interview should not have been explained to him.  Such in result was exactly the case.  Mr. Mason did remember the name of Dockwrath, though he had never hitherto seen the bearer of it; and as the letter was dated from Hamworth, he felt sufficient interest in the matter to await at home the coming of his visitor.

“I know your name, Mr. Mason, sir, and have known it long,” said Mr. Dockwrath, seating himself in the chair which was offered to him in the magistrate’s study; “though I never had the pleasure of seeing you before, ­to my knowledge.  My name is Dockwrath, sir, and I am a solicitor.  I live at Hamworth, and I married the daughter of old Mr. Usbech, sir, whom you will remember.”

Mr. Mason listened attentively as these details were uttered before him so clearly, but he said nothing, merely bowing his head at each separate statement.  He knew all about old Usbech’s daughter nearly as well as Mr. Dockwrath did himself, but he was a man who knew how to be silent upon occasions.

“I was too young, sir,” continued Dockwrath, “when you had that trial about Orley Farm to have anything to do with the matter myself, but nevertheless I remember all the circumstances as though it was yesterday.  I suppose, sir, you remember them also?”

“Yes, Mr. Dockwrath, I remember them very well.”

“Well, sir, my impression has always been that ­” And then the attorney stopped.  It was quite his intention to speak out plainly before Mr. Mason, but he was anxious that that gentleman should speak out too.  At any rate it might be well that he should be induced to express some little interest in the matter.

“Your impression, you say, has always been ­” said Mr. Mason, repeating the words of his companion, and looking as ponderous and grave as ever.  His countenance, however, expressed nothing but his usual ponderous solemnity.

“My impression always was ­that there was something that had not been as yet found out.”

“What sort of thing, Mr. Dockwrath?”

“Well; some secret.  I don’t think that your lawyers managed the matter well, Mr. Mason.”

“You think you would have done it better, Mr. Dockwrath?”

“I don’t say that, Mr. Mason.  I was only a lad at the time, and could not have managed it at all.  But they didn’t ferret about enough.  Mr. Mason, there’s a deal better evidence than any that is given by word of mouth.  A clever counsel can turn a witness pretty nearly any way he likes, but he can’t do that with little facts.  He hasn’t the time, you see, to get round them.  Your lawyers, sir, didn’t get up the little facts as they should have done.”

“And you have got them up since, Mr. Dockwrath?”

“I don’t say that, Mr. Mason.  You see all my interest lies in maintaining the codicil.  My wife’s fortune came to her under that deed.  To be sure that’s gone and spent long since, and the Lord Chancellor with all the judges couldn’t enforce restitution; but, nevertheless, I wouldn’t wish that any one should have a claim against me on that account.”

“Perhaps you will not object to say what it is that you do wish?”

“I wish to see right done, Mr. Mason; that’s all.  I don’t think that Lady Mason or her son have any right to the possession of that place.  I don’t think that that codicil was a correct instrument; and in that case of Mason versus Mason I don’t think that you and your friends got to the bottom of it.”  And then Mr. Dockwrath leaned back in his chair with an inward determination to say nothing more, until Mr. Mason should make some sign.

That gentleman, however, still remained ponderous and heavy, and therefore there was a short period of silence ­“And have you got to the bottom of it since, Mr. Dockwrath?” at last he said.

“I don’t say that I have,” said the attorney.

“Might I ask then what it is you propose to effect by the visit with which you have honoured me?  Of course you are aware that these are very private matters; and although I should feel myself under an obligation to you, or to any man who might assist me to arrive at any true facts which have hitherto been concealed, I am not disposed to discuss the affair with a stranger on grounds of mere suspicion.”

“I shouldn’t have come here, Mr. Mason, at very great expense, and personal inconvenience to myself in my profession, if I had not some good reason for doing so.  I don’t think that you ever got to the bottom of that matter, and I can’t say that I have done so now; I haven’t even tried.  But I tell you what, Mr. Mason; if you wish it, I think I could put you in the way of ­trying.”

“My lawyers are Messrs. Round and Crook of Bedford Row.  Will it not be better that you should go to them, Mr. Dockwrath?”

“No, Mr. Mason.  I don’t think it will be better that I should go to them.  I know Round and Crook well, and don’t mean to say a word against them; but if I go any farther into this affair I must do it with the principal.  I am not going to cut my own throat for the sake of mending any man’s little finger.  I have a family of sixteen children, Mr. Mason, and I have to look about very sharp, ­very sharp indeed.”  Then there was another pause, and Mr. Dockwrath began to perceive that Mr. Mason was not by nature an open, demonstrative, or communicative man.  If anything further was to be done, he himself must open out a little.  “The fact is, Mr. Mason, that I have come across documents which you should have had at that trial.  Round and Crook ought to have had them, only they weren’t half sharp.  Why, sir, Mr. Usbech had been your father’s man of business for years upon years, and yet they didn’t half go through his papers.  They turned ’em over and looked at ’em; but never thought of seeing what little facts might be proved.”

“And these documents are with you now, here?”

“No, Mr. Mason, I am not so soft as that.  I never carry about original documents unless when ordered to prove.  Copies of one or two items I have made; not regular copies, Mr. Mason, but just a line or two to refresh my memory.”  And Mr. Dockwrath took a small letter-case out of his breast coat pocket.

By this time Mr. Mason’s curiosity had been roused, and he began to think it possible that his visitor had discovered information which might be of importance to him.  “Are you going to show me any document?” said he.

“That’s as may be,” said the attorney.  “I don’t know as yet whether you care to see it.  I have come a long way to do you a service, and it seems to me you are rather shy of coming forward to meet me.  As I said before, I’ve a very heavy family, and I’m not going to cut the nose off my own face to put money into any other man’s pocket.  What do you think my journey down here will cost me, including loss of time, and interruption to my business?”

“Look here, Mr. Dockwrath; if you are really able to put me into possession of any facts regarding the Orley Farm estate which I ought to know, I will see that you are compensated for your time and trouble.  Messrs. Round and Crook ­”

“I’ll have nothing to do with Round and Crook.  So that’s settled, Mr. Mason.”

“Then, Mr. Dockwrath ­”

“Half a minute, Mr. Mason.  I’ll have nothing to do with Round and Crook; but as I know you to be a gentleman and a man of honour, I’ll put you in possession of what I’ve discovered, and leave it to you afterwards to do what you think right about my expenses, time, and services.  You won’t forget that it is a long way from Hamworth to Groby Park.  And if you should succeed ­”

“If I am to look at this document, I must do so without pledging myself to anything,” said Mr. Mason, still with much solemnity.  He had great doubts as to his new acquaintance, and much feared that he was derogating from his dignity as a county magistrate and owner of Groby Park in holding any personal intercourse with him; but nevertheless he could not resist the temptation.  He most firmly believed that that codicil had not expressed the genuine last will and fair disposition of property made by his father, and it might certainly be the case that proof of all that he believed was to be found among the papers of the old lawyer.  He hated Lady Mason with all his power of hatred, and if there did, even yet, exist for him a chance of upsetting her claims and ruining her before the world, he was not the man to forego that chance.

“Well, sir, you shall see it,” said Mr. Dockwrath; “or rather hear it, for there is not much to see.”  And so saying he extracted from his pocket-book a very small bit of paper.

“I should prefer to read it, if it’s all the same to you, Mr. Dockwrath.  I shall understand it much better in that way.”

“As you like, Mr. Mason,” said the attorney, handing him the small bit of paper.  “You will understand, sir, that it’s no real copy, but only a few dates and particulars, just jotted down to assist my own memory.”  The document, supported by which Mr. Dockwrath had come down to Yorkshire, consisted of half a sheet of note paper, and the writing upon this covered hardly the half of it.  The words which Mr. Mason read were as follows: ­

   Date of codicith July 18 .

   Witnesses to the instrument.  John Kenneby; Bridget
   Bolster; Jonathan Usbech.  N.B.  Jonathan Usbech died before
   the testator.

   Mason and Martock.  Deed of separation; dated 14th July
   18 .

   Executed at Orley Farm.

   Witnesses John Kenneby; and Bridget Bolster.  Deed was
   prepared in the office of Jonathan Usbech, and probably
   executed in his presence.

That was all that was written on the paper, and Mr. Mason read the words to himself three times before he looked up, or said anything concerning them.  He was not a man quick at receiving new ideas into his mind, or of understanding new points; but that which had once become intelligible to him and been made his own, remained so always.  “Well,” said he, when he read the above words for the third time.

“You don’t see it, sir?” said Mr. Dockwrath.

“See what?” said Mr. Mason, still looking at the scrap of paper.

“Why; the dates, to begin with.”

“I see that the dates are the same; ­the 14th of July in the same year.”

“Well,” said Mr. Dockwrath, looking very keenly into the magistrate’s face.

“Well,” said Mr. Mason, looking over the paper at his boot.

“John Kenneby and Bridget Bolster were witnesses to both the instruments,” said the attorney.

“So I see,” said the magistrate.

“But I don’t remember that it came out in evidence that either of them recollected having been called on for two signatures on the same day.”

“No; there was nothing of that came out; ­or was even hinted at.”

“No; nothing even hinted at, Mr. Mason, ­as you justly observe.  That is what I mean by saying that Round and Crook’s people didn’t get up their little facts.  Believe me, sir, there are men in the profession out of London who know quite as much as Round and Crook.  They ought to have had those facts, seeing that the very copy of the document was turned over by their hands.”  And Mr. Dockwrath hit the table heavily in the warmth of his indignation against his professional brethren.  Earlier in the interview Mr. Mason would have been made very angry by such freedom, but he was not angry now.

“Yes; they ought to have known it,” said he.  But he did not even yet see the point.  He merely saw that there was a point worth seeing.

“Known it!  Of course they ought to have known it.  Look here, Mr. Mason!  If I had it on my mind that I’d thrown over a client of mine by such carelessness as that, I’d ­I’d strike my own name off the rolls; I would indeed.  I never could look a counsel in the face again, if I’d neglected to brief him with such facts as those.  I suppose it was carelessness; eh, Mr. Mason?”

“Oh, yes; I’m afraid so,” said Mr. Mason, still rather in the dark.

“They could have had no object in keeping it back, I should say.”

“No; none in life.  But let us see, Mr. Dockwrath; how does it bear upon us?  The dates are the same, and the witnesses the same.”

“The deed of separation is genuine.  There is no doubt about that.”

“Oh; you’re sure of that?”

“Quite certain.  I found it entered in the old office books.  It was the last of a lot of such documents executed between Mason and Martock after the old man gave up the business.  You see she was always with him, and knew all about it.”

“About the partnership deed?”

“Of course she did.  She’s a clever woman, Mr. Mason; very clever, and it’s almost a pity that she should come to grief.  She has carried it on so well; hasn’t she?”

Mr. Mason’s face now became very black.  “Why,” said he, “if what you seem to allege be true, she must be a ­a ­a .  What do you mean, sir, by pity?”

Mr. Dockwrath shrugged his shoulders.  “It is very blue,” said he, “uncommon blue.”

“She must be a swindler; a common swindler.  Nay, worse than that.”

“Oh, yes, a deal worse than that, Mr. Mason.  And as for common; ­according to my way of thinking there’s nothing at all common about it.  I look upon it as about the best got-up plant I ever remember to have heard of.  I do, indeed, Mr. Mason.”  The attorney during the last ten minutes of the conversation had quite altered his tone, understanding that he had already achieved a great part of his object; but Mr. Mason in his intense anxiety did not observe this.  Had Mr. Dockwrath, in commencing the conversation, talked about “plants” and “blue,” Mr. Mason would probably have rung his bell for the servant.  “If it’s anything, it’s forgery,” said Mr. Dockwrath, looking his companion full in the face.

“I always felt sure that my father never intended to sign such a codicil as that.”

“He never did sign it, Mr. Mason.”

“And, ­and the witnesses!” said Mr. Mason, still not enlightened as to the true extent of the attorney’s suspicion.

“They signed the other deed; that is two of them did.  There is no doubt about that; ­on that very day.  They certainly did witness a signature made by the old gentleman in his own room on that 14th of July.  The original of that document, with the date and their names, will be forthcoming soon enough.”

“Well,” said Mr. Mason.

“But they did not witness two signatures.”

“You think not, eh!”

“I’m sure of it.  The girl Bolster would have remembered it, and would have said so.  She was sharp enough.”

“Who wrote all the names then at the foot of the will?” said Mr. Mason.

“Ah! that’s the question.  Who did write them?  We know very well, Mr. Mason, you and I that is, who did not.  And having come to that, I think we may give a very good guess who did.”

And then they both sat silent for some three or four minutes.  Mr. Dockwrath was quite at his ease, rubbing his chin with his hand, playing with a paper-knife which he had taken from the study table, and waiting till it should please Mr. Mason to renew the conversation.  Mr. Mason was not at his ease, though all idea of affecting any reserve before the attorney had left him.  He was thinking how best he might confound and destroy the woman who had robbed him for so many years; who had defied him, got the better of him, and put him to terrible cost; who had vexed his spirit through his whole life, deprived him of content, and had been to him as a thorn ever present in a festering sore.  He had always believed that she had defrauded him, but this belief had been qualified by the unbelief of others.  It might have been, he had half thought, that the old man had signed the codicil in his dotage, having been cheated and bullied into it by the woman.  There had been no day in her life on which he would not have ruined her, had it been in his power to do so.  But now ­now, new and grander ideas were breaking in upon his mind.  Could it be possible that he might live to see her, not merely deprived of her ill-gained money, but standing in the dock as a felon to receive sentence for her terrible misdeeds?  If that might be so, would he not receive great compensation for all that he had suffered?  Would it not be sweet to his sense of justice that both of them should thus at last have their own?  He did not even yet understand all that Mr. Dockwrath suspected.  He did not fully perceive why the woman was supposed to have chosen as the date of her forgery, the date of that other genuine deed.  But he did understand, he did perceive ­at least so he thought, ­that new and perhaps conclusive evidence of her villainy was at last within his reach.

“And what shall we do now, Mr. Dockwrath?” he said at last.

“Well; am I to understand that you do me the honour of asking my advice upon that question as being your lawyer?”

This question immediately brought Mr. Mason back to business that he did understand.  “A man in my position cannot very well change his legal advisers at a moment’s notice.  You must be very well aware of that, Mr. Dockwrath.  Messrs. Round and Crook ­”

“Messrs. Round and Crook, sir, have neglected your business in a most shameful manner.  Let me tell you that, sir.”

“Well; that’s as may be.  I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Mr. Dockwrath; I’ll think over this matter in quiet, and then I’ll come up to town.  Perhaps when there I may expect the honour of a further visit from you.”

“And you won’t mention the matter to Round and Crook?”

“I can’t undertake to say that, Mr. Dockwrath.  I think it will perhaps be better that I should mention it, and then see you afterwards.”

“And how about my expenses down here?”

Just at this moment there came a light tap at the study door, and before the master of the house could give or withhold permission the mistress of the house entered the room.  “My dear,” she said, “I didn’t know that you were engaged.”

“Yes, I am engaged,” said the gentleman.

“Oh, I’m sure I beg pardon.  Perhaps this is the gentleman from Hamworth?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Mr. Dockwrath.  “I am the gentleman from Hamworth.  I hope I have the pleasure of seeing you very well, ma’am?” And getting up from his chair he bowed politely.

“Mr. Dockwrath, Mrs. Mason,” said the lady’s husband, introducing them; and then Mrs. Mason curtsied to the stranger.  She too was very anxious to know what might be the news from Hamworth.

“Mr. Dockwrath will lunch with us, my dear,” said Mr. Mason.  And then the lady, on hospitable cares intent, left them again to themselves.