8. THE BEAUFORT SCANDAL
In November of that same year, Mrs Archer gave a dinner party. Janey, Newland and May were there, with Sillerton Jackson and his sister Sophy. Their first subject of conversation was Julius Beaufort's financial situation. His business was failing rapidly, and what was worse, it appeared that he had taken unlawful steps to try to solve his problems.
Poor cousin Regina!' said Mrs Archer sadly. No one really liked Beaufort, and it was almost a pleasure to think the worst of his private life, but the idea of his bringing dishonour on his wife's family was too shocking for even his enemies to enjoy. Nothing could save Regina Beaufort from social ruin, if there were any truth in the reports of her husband's misbehaviour.
The talk then turned to Mrs Struthers' musical evenings, which by now had become acceptable to much of New York society – though not yet to Mrs Archer. Shaking her head, this lady said to May, 'You know, dear, I've never quite forgiven your cousin Ellen for being the first to attend her Sunday evenings.'
May blushed, and said quietly, 'Oh, Ellen – well, what can you expect? She's lived abroad – and she doesn't care about society. In fact, I'm not sure what she does care about.'
Everyone knew that Countess Olenska's family disapproved very strongly of her refusal to return to her husband. After all, a young woman's place was under her husband's roof, especially if she had left it in a way that... well... if one looked into it...
Soon the ladies left the gentlemen alone with their cigars, and Sillerton Jackson said to Newland, 'If Beaufort is ruined, there'll be some unpleasant discoveries. He hasn't spent all his money on Regina, you know.'
Newland was not paying attention. He was wondering why May had blushed at the mention of Ellen's name. It was four months since the midsummer day he had spent with Ellen in Boston. He had not seen her since, and she had become the centre of his secret thoughts and hopes. He had written to her once, asking when they were to meet again, and she had replied with two words: 'Not yet.'
He became aware that Mr Jackson was speaking again. 'It's certainly a pity that Madame Olenska refused to accept her husband's latest offer.'
A pity? In God's name, why?'
Well, what's she going to live on, if Beaufort–'
Newland jumped up and banged his hand down angrily on the table. 'What do you mean by that, sir? Explain yourself!'
Mr Jackson spoke calmly, but his sharp little eyes were watching Newland's face with interest.
Well, my dear boy, old Mrs Mingott tells me the Countess is no longer given much of an income by the family. And the few savings Medora Manson has left are all in Beaufort's hands, so if it comes to a crash, she'll lose everything. So what the two women will live on then, I can't imagine.'
Newland, aware that in his anger he might say something unwise, changed the subject, and took Mr Jackson up to join the ladies in the sitting room.
That evening, when they were at home in their sitting room, he watched May bending over a lamp to light it. 'How young she is!' he thought; and then, with a kind of horror, 'how young we both are! For what endless years this life will have to go on!'
Look here,' he said, 'I may have to go to Washington next week, on business. There's an important court case coming up. '
She thought for a moment, and then smiled at him. 'The change will do you good,' she said, 'and you must see Ellen.' She looked him straight in the eyes with her cloudless smile.
Those were the only words that passed between them on the subject, but in the unspoken language which they had both been trained to use, that meant: 'I support my family's efforts to persuade Ellen to return to her husband. For some reason you have chosen not to tell me, you have advised her against this, and because of your advice, there is a great deal of unpleasant talk about her behaviour. I know you intend to see Ellen when you're in Washington – perhaps you're even going there in order to see her. I am giving you my full permission to see her – I want you to let her know what will happen if she continues to go against her family's wishes.'
She moved towards the door. 'I am going to bed, dear,' she said. At the door she turned and paused for his kiss.
The crash came a few days later. With false confidence Beaufort had persuaded a large number of people that his bank was safe, and money had poured in. But it had not been enough to pay his enormous debts, and he was ruined. So, too, were many of the people who had trusted him, and ugly things were being said of his wicked behaviour. It was one of the worst financial scandals in the history of Wall Street.
While Mr Letterblair was telling Newland the details of the disaster, a note was delivered to the young man. It said:
Please come to Grandmother's house as soon as possible. She has had a stroke – somehow she heard this awful news about the bank before anyone else. Uncle Lovell is away shooting, and the idea of the dishonour has made poor Father ill, so he can't leave his room. Mother and I need you very badly. May
At Mrs Mingott's house Newland found his wife and her mother looking pale and worried. The doctor, however, was quite hopeful and the old lady's determination to get well soon began to have an effect on her relations.
It appeared that on the previous evening Regina Beaufort had come to visit Mrs Mingott, and begged her aunt to support her and her husband in their desperate situation. This request had made Mrs Mingott extremely angry. When she was able to speak again, she told her daughter Mrs Welland what had been said.
I said to Regina, "Honour's always been honour, and honesty's always been honesty in this house, and will be until I'm carried out of it feet first." And when she said, "But I'm your niece!" I said, "You were Beaufort's wife when he covered you with jewels, and you'll have to stay Beaufort's wife now that he's covered you with dirt."'
Anger had probably caused Mrs Mingott's stroke, and Mrs Welland and May were horrified at Regina's behaviour. Everyone knew that a wife should not ask her family to cover up her husband's financial dishonour; a wife simply had to accept the rough as well as the smooth, the bad times as well as the good.
As they sat discussing it all, a servant called Mrs Welland into Mrs Mingott's room. She came out again a few minutes later, looking annoyed. 'She wants me to send a telegram to Ellen Olenska. She wants her here at once,' she said.
There was a moment's silence. 'I suppose it must be done,' she added doubtfully.
Of course it must be done,' said May. 'We must carry out Grandmother's wishes.' She turned to Newland with a smile. 'Will you send the telegram for us, Newland? There's just time before lunch.'
She sat down and wrote the telegram. As she handed it to him, she said, smiling, 'What a pity! This means you will miss Ellen.' Turning to her mother, she explained, 'Newland has to go to Washington for a court case, and now the doctor tells us Grandmother will live, it doesn't seem right to ask him to give up such important business in order to stay here, does it?'
Mrs Welland replied quickly, 'Of course not, dearest. Your grandmother would be the last person to wish it.'
As Newland left the room with the telegram, he heard his mother-in-law add, 'But why does she want Ellen here?' and May's clear voice reply, 'Perhaps to explain to her again that her duty is with her husband.'
That afternoon the announcement of the Beaufort failure was in all the newspapers. The whole of New York was darkened by the story of Beaufort's dishonour – he had not only lied to people about the safety of their savings, but his bank had continued to take in money for twenty-four hours after its failure was certain. And no one pitied his wife, because she did not seem to understand the seriousness of his crimes, but talked of the disaster as 'a misfortune' and was sure that 'her true friends would not desert her'. Her true friends were sure they would.
Old Mrs Mingott continued to get better, and gave orders that no one should ever mention the name of Beaufort to her again.
The next day the Wellands received a telegram, announcing Madame Olenska's arrival from Washington the following evening. This started a long discussion at the Wellands', where Newland and May were having lunch, about who could meet Ellen at Jersey City railway station. Mr and Mrs Welland were visiting Mrs Mingott that afternoon, the Lovell Mingotts were busy, and May could not be asked to travel so far alone.
Newland, becoming aware of their discussion, said, 'Shall I fetch her? I can easily get away from the office, and I can take May's carriage.' His heart was beating excitedly as he spoke.
Oh, thank you so much, Newland!' said Mrs Welland gratefully, and May smiled at him, pleased.
May's carriage was waiting outside, for her to drive Newland back to the office after lunch. As they got in and sat down, she said, 'I didn't want to worry Mother, but how can you meet Ellen tomorrow, when you're going to Washington?'
Oh, I'm not going,' said Newland.
Not going? Why, what's happened?' Her voice was as clear as a bell, and full of wifely concern.
The case has been put off for a few weeks.'
Put off? How odd! I heard from Mother that Mr Letterblair is going to Washington tomorrow, to defend a case.'
Well – that's it. The whole office can't go.'
Then it hasn't been put off?' she continued, with an insistence so unusual that he blushed for her.
No, but my going has been,' he answered. It did not hurt him half as much to tell May a lie, as to see her trying to pretend she had not discovered it.
I'm not going until later on, luckily for the convenience of your family,' he said. As he spoke, he felt she was looking at him, and he turned his eyes to hers in order not to appear to be avoiding them. Their eyes met for a second, and perhaps they saw more deeply into each other's meaning than either of them really wanted...
Yes, it is awfully convenient,' May brightly agreed, 'that you can meet Ellen after all. You saw how pleased Mother was.'
Oh, I'm delighted to do it.' The carriage stopped at his office, and as he jumped out, she laid her hand on his. 'Goodbye, dearest,' she said, her eyes so blue that he wondered afterwards if they had shone on him through tears.
May laid her hand on Newland's. 'Goodbye, dearest,' she said.
He turned and hurried into his office, repeating to himself in a sort of song, 'It's all of two hours from Jersey City station to Mrs Mingott's! It's all of two hours – and it may be more!'
