Doctor Thorne by Anthony Trollope (epub ebook reader .TXT) 📕

of the grown-up young

ladies of the family, whereas one of the old nurseries was now the

modern schoolroom. Mary well knew her way to the sanctum, and,

without asking any questions, walked up to it when her uncle went to

the squire. On entering the room she found that Augusta and the Lady

Alexandrina were also there, and she hesitated for a moment at the

door.

 

“Come in, Mary,” said Beatrice, “you know my cousin Alexandrina.”

Mary came in, and having shaken hands with her two friends, was

bowing to the lady, when the lady condescended, put out her noble

hand, and touched Miss Thorne’s fingers.

 

Beatrice was Mary’s friend, and many heart-burnings and much mental

solicitude did that young lady give to her mother by indulging in

such a friendship. But Beatrice, with some faults, was true at heart,

and she persisted in loving Mary Thorne in spite of the hints which

her mother so frequently gave as to the impropriety of such an

affection.

 

Nor had Augusta any objection to the society of Miss Thorne. Augusta

was a strong-minded girl, with much of the de Courcy arrogance, but

quite as well inclined to show it in opposition to her mother as in

any other form. To her alone in the house did Lady Arabella show much

deference. She was now going to make a suitable match with a man of

large fortune, who had been procured for her as an eligible parti

by her aunt, the countess. She did not pretend, had never pretended,

that she loved Mr Moffat, but she knew, she said, that in the present

state of her father’s affairs such a match was expedient. Mr Moffat

was a young man of very large fortune, in Parliament, inclined to

business, and in every way recommendable. He was not a man of birth,

to be sure; that was to be lamented;—in confessing that Mr Moffat

was not a man of birth, Augusta did not go so far as to admit that he

was the son of a tailor; such, however, was the rigid truth in this

matter—he was not a man of birth, that was to be lamented; but in

the present state of affairs at Greshamsbury, she understood well

that it was her duty to postpone her own feelings in some respect. Mr

Moffat would bring fortune; she would bring blood and connexion. And

as she so said, her bosom glowed with strong pride to think that she

would be able to contribute so much more towards the proposed future

partnership than her husband would do.

 

‘Twas thus that Miss Gresham spoke of her match to her dear friends,

her cousins the de Courcys for instance, to Miss Oriel, her sister

Beatrice, and even to Mary Thorne. She had no enthusiasm, she

admitted, but she thought she had good judgment. She thought she

had shown good judgment in accepting Mr Moffat’s offer, though she

did not pretend to any romance of affection. And, having so said,

she went to work with considerable mental satisfaction, choosing

furniture, carriages, and clothes, not extravagantly as her mother

would have done, not in deference to sterner dictates of the latest

fashion as her aunt would have done, with none of the girlish glee

in new purchases which Beatrice would have felt, but with sound

judgment. She bought things that were rich, for her husband was to be

rich, and she meant to avail herself of his wealth; she bought things

that were fashionable, for she meant to live in the fashionable

world; but she bought what was good, and strong, and lasting, and

worth its money.

 

Augusta Gresham had perceived early in life that she could not obtain

success either as an heiress, or as a beauty, nor could she shine

as a wit; she therefore fell back on such qualities as she had, and

determined to win the world as a strong-minded, useful woman. That

which she had of her own was blood; having that, she would in all

ways do what in her lay to enhance its value. Had she not possessed

it, it would to her mind have been the vainest of pretences.

 

When Mary came in, the wedding preparations were being discussed. The

number and names of the bridesmaids were being settled, the dresses

were on the tapis, the invitations to be given were talked over.

Sensible as Augusta was, she was not above such feminine cares; she

was, indeed, rather anxious that the wedding should go off well. She

was a little ashamed of her tailor’s son, and therefore anxious that

things should be as brilliant as possible.

 

The bridesmaid’s names had just been written on a card as Mary

entered the room. There were the Ladies Amelia, Rosina, Margaretta,

and Alexandrina of course at the head of it; then came Beatrice and

the twins; then Miss Oriel, who, though only a parson’s sister, was

a person of note, birth, and fortune. After this there had been here

a great discussion whether or not there should be any more. If there

were to be one more there must be two. Now Miss Moffat had expressed

a direct wish, and Augusta, though she would much rather have done

without her, hardly knew how to refuse. Alexandrina—we hope we

may be allowed to drop the “lady” for the sake of brevity, for the

present scene only—was dead against such an unreasonable request.

“We none of us know her, you know; and it would not be comfortable.”

Beatrice strongly advocated the future sister-in-law’s acceptance

into the bevy; she had her own reasons; she was pained that Mary

Thorne should not be among the number, and if Miss Moffat were

accepted, perhaps Mary might be brought in as her colleague.

 

“If you have Miss Moffat,” said Alexandrina, “you must have dear

Pussy too; and I really think that Pussy is too young; it will be

troublesome.” Pussy was the youngest Miss Gresham, who was now only

eight years old, and whose real name was Nina.

 

“Augusta,” said Beatrice, speaking with some slight hesitation, some

soupçon of doubt, before the high authority of her noble cousin, “if

you do have Miss Moffat would you mind asking Mary Thorne to join

her? I think Mary would like it, because, you see, Patience Oriel

is to be one; and we have known Mary much longer than we have known

Patience.”

 

Then out and spake the Lady Alexandrina.

 

“Beatrice, dear, if you think of what you are asking, I am sure you

will see that it would not do; would not do at all. Miss Thorne is a

very nice girl, I am sure; and, indeed, what little I have seen of

her I highly approve. But, after all, who is she? Mamma, I know,

thinks that Aunt Arabella has been wrong to let her be here so much,

but—”

 

Beatrice became rather red in the face, and, in spite of the dignity

of her cousin, was preparing to defend her friend.

 

“Mind, I am not saying a word against Miss Thorne.”

 

“If I am married before her, she shall be one of my bridesmaids,”

said Beatrice.

 

“That will probably depend on circumstances,” said the Lady

Alexandrina; I find that I cannot bring my courteous pen to drop the

title. “But Augusta is very peculiarly situated. Mr Moffat is, you

see, not of the very highest birth; and, therefore, she should take

care that on her side every one about her is well born.”

 

“Then you cannot have Miss Moffat,” said Beatrice.

 

“No; I would not if I could help it,” said the cousin.

 

“But the Thornes are as good a family as the Greshams,” said

Beatrice. She had not quite the courage to say, as good as the de

Courcys.

 

“I dare say they are; and if this was Miss Thorne of Ullathorne,

Augusta probably would not object to her. But can you tell me who

Miss Mary Thorne is?”

 

“She is Dr Thorne’s niece.”

 

“You mean that she is called so; but do you know who her father

was, or who her mother was? I, for one, must own I do not. Mamma, I

believe, does, but—”

 

At this moment the door opened gently and Mary Thorne entered the

room.

 

It may easily be conceived, that while Mary was making her

salutations the three other young ladies were a little cast aback.

The Lady Alexandrina, however, quickly recovered herself, and, by her

inimitable presence of mind and facile grace of manner, soon put the

matter on a proper footing.

 

“We were discussing Miss Gresham’s marriage,” said she; “I am sure I

may mention to an acquaintance of so long standing as Miss Thorne,

that the first of September has been now fixed for the wedding.”

 

Miss Gresham! Acquaintance of so long standing! Why, Mary and Augusta

Gresham had for years, we will hardly say now for how many, passed

their mornings together in the same schoolroom; had quarrelled, and

squabbled, and caressed and kissed, and been all but as sisters to

each other. Acquaintance indeed! Beatrice felt that her ears were

tingling, and even Augusta was a little ashamed. Mary, however,

knew that the cold words had come from a de Courcy, and not from a

Gresham, and did not, therefore, resent them.

 

“So it’s settled, Augusta, is it?” said she; “the first of September.

I wish you joy with all my heart,” and, coming round, she put her arm

over Augusta’s shoulder and kissed her. The Lady Alexandrina could

not but think that the doctor’s niece uttered her congratulations

very much as though she were speaking to an equal; very much as

though she had a father and mother of her own.

 

“You will have delicious weather,” continued Mary. “September, and

the beginning of October, is the nicest time of the year. If I were

going honeymooning it is just the time of year I would choose.”

 

“I wish you were, Mary,” said Beatrice.

 

“So do not I, dear, till I have found some decent sort of a body to

honeymoon along with me. I won’t stir out of Greshamsbury till I have

sent you off before me, at any rate. And where will you go, Augusta?”

 

“We have not settled that,” said Augusta. “Mr Moffat talks of Paris.”

 

“Who ever heard of going to Paris in September?” said the Lady

Alexandrina.

 

“Or who ever heard of the gentleman having anything to say on the

matter?” said the doctor’s niece. “Of course Mr Moffat will go

wherever you are pleased to take him.”

 

The Lady Alexandrina was not pleased to find how completely the

doctor’s niece took upon herself to talk, and sit, and act at

Greshamsbury as though she was on a par with the young ladies of

the family. That Beatrice should have allowed this would not have

surprised her; but it was to be expected that Augusta would have

shown better judgment.

 

“These things require some tact in their management; some delicacy

when high interests are at stake,” said she; “I agree with Miss

Thorne in thinking that, in ordinary circumstances, with ordinary

people, perhaps, the lady should have her way. Rank, however, has its

drawbacks, Miss Thorne, as well as its privileges.”

 

“I should not object to the drawbacks,” said the doctor’s niece,

“presuming them to be of some use; but I fear I might fail in getting

on so well with the privileges.”

 

The Lady Alexandrina looked at her as though not fully aware whether

she intended to be pert. In truth, the Lady Alexandrina was rather in

the dark on the subject. It was almost impossible, it was incredible,

that a fatherless, motherless, doctor’s niece should be pert to an

earl’s daughter at Greshamsbury, seeing