He Knew He Was Right by Anthony Trollope (books you need to read .txt) 📕

WHAT THEY SAID ABOUT IT IN THE CLOSE

When Miss Stanbury, in the Close at Exeter, was first told of the

arrangement that had been made at Nuncombe Putney, she said some very

hard words as to the thing that had been done. She was quite sure that

Mrs Trevelyan was no better than she should be. Ladies who were

separated from their husbands never were any better than they should

be. And what was to be thought of any woman, who, when separated from

her husband, would put herself under the protection of such a Paladin

as Hugh Stanbury. She heard the tidings of course from Dorothy, and

spoke her mind even to Dorothy plainly enough; but it was to Martha

that she expressed herself with her fullest vehemence.

‘We always knew,’ she said, ‘that my brother had married an

addle-pated, silly woman, one of the most unsuited to be the mistress

of a clergyman’s house that ever a man set eyes on; but I didn’t think

she’d allow herself to be led into such a stupid thing as this.’

‘I don’t suppose the lady has done anything amiss any more than

combing her husband’s hair, and the like of that,’ said Martha.

‘Don’t tell me! Why, by their own story, she has got a lover.’

‘But he ain’t to come after her down here, I suppose. And as for

lovers, ma’am, I’m told that the most of ‘em have ‘em up in London. But

it don’t mean much, only just idle talking and gallivanting.’

‘When women can’t keep themselves from idle talking with strange

gentlemen, they are very far gone on the road to the devil. That’s my

notion. And that was everybody’s notion a few years ago. But now, what

with divorce bills, and woman’s rights, and penny papers, and false

hair, and married women being just like giggling girls, and giggling

girls knowing just as much as married women, when a woman has been

married a year or two she begins to think whether she mayn’t have more

fun for her money by living apart from her husband.’

‘Miss Dorothy says—’

‘Oh, bother what Miss Dorothy says! Miss Dorothy only knows what it has

suited that scamp, her brother, to tell her. I understand this woman

has come away because of a lover; and if that’s so, my sister-in-law is

very wrong to receive her. The temptation of the Clock House has been

too much for her. It’s not my doing; that’s all.’

That evening Miss Stanbury and Dorothy went out to tea at the house of

Mrs MacHugh, and there the matter was very much discussed. The family

of the Trevelyans was known by name in these parts, and the fact of Mrs

Trevelyan having been sent to live in a Devonshire village, with

Devonshire ladies who had a relation in Exeter so well esteemed as Miss

Stanbury of the Close, were circumstances of themselves sufficient to

ensure a considerable amount of prestige at the city tea-table for the

tidings of this unfortunate family quarrel. Some reticence was of

course necessary because of the presence of Miss Stanbury and of

Dorothy. To Miss Stanbury herself Mrs MacHugh and Mrs Crumbie, of

Cronstadt House, did not scruple to express themselves very plainly,

and to whisper a question as to what was to be done should the lover

make his appearance at Nuncombe Putney; but they who spoke of the

matter before Dorothy, were at first more charitable, or, at least,

more forbearing. Mr Gibson, who was one of the minor canons, and the

two Miss Frenches from Heavitree, who had the reputation of hunting

unmarried clergymen in couples, seemed to have heard all about it. When

Mrs MacHugh and Miss Stanbury, with Mr and Mrs Crumbie, had seated

themselves at their whist-table, the younger people were able to

express their opinions without danger of interruption or of rebuke. It

was known to all Exeter by this time, that Dorothy Stanbury’s mother

had gone to the Clock House, and that she had done so in order that Mrs

Trevelyan might have a home. But it was not yet known whether anybody

had called upon them. There was Mrs Merton, the wife of the present

parson of Nuncombe, who had known the Stanburys for the last twenty

years; and there was Mrs Ellison of Lessboro’, who lived only four

miles from Nuncombe, and who kept a pony-carriage. It would be a great

thing to know how these ladies had behaved in so difficult and

embarrassing a position. Mrs Trevelyan and her sister had now been at

Nuncombe Putney for more than a fortnight, and something in that matter

of calling must have been done or have been left undone. In answer to

an ingeniously-framed question asked by Camilla French, Dorothy at once

set the matter at rest. ‘Mrs Merton,’ said Camilla French, ‘must find

it a great thing to have two new ladies come to the village, especially

now that she has lost you, Miss Stanbury?’

‘Mamma tells me,’ said Dorothy, ‘that Mrs Trevelyan and Miss Rowley do

not mean to know anybody. They have given it out quite plainly, so that

there should be no mistake.’

‘Dear, dear!’ said Camilla French.

‘I dare say it’s for the best,’ said Arabella French, who was the

elder, and who looked very meek and soft. Miss French almost always

looked meek and soft.

‘I’m afraid it will make it very dull for your mother not seeing her

old friends,’ said Mr Gibson.

‘Mamma won’t feel that at all,’ said Dorothy.

‘Mrs Stanbury, I suppose, will see her own friends at her own house

just the same,’ said Camilla.

‘There would be great difficulty in that, when there is a lady who is

to remain unknown,’ said Arabella. ‘Don’t you think so, Mr Gibson?’ Mr

Gibson replied that perhaps there might be a difficulty, but he wasn’t

sure. The difficulty, he thought, might be got over if the ladies did

not always occupy the same room.

‘You have never seen Mrs Trevelyan, have you, Miss Stanbury?’ asked

Camilla.

‘Never.’

‘She is not an old family friend, then or anything of that sort?’

‘Oh, dear, no.’

‘Because,’ said Arabella, ‘it is so odd how different people get

together sometimes.’ Then Dorothy explained that Mr Trevelyan and her

brother Hugh had long been friends.

‘Oh! of Mr Trevelyan,’ said Camilla. ‘Then it is he that has sent his

wife to Nuncombe, not she that has come there?’

‘I suppose there has been some agreement,’ said Dorothy.

‘Just so; just so,’ said Arabella, the meek. ‘I should like to see her.

They say that she is very beautiful; don’t they?’

‘My brother says that she is handsome.’

‘Exceedingly lovely, I’m told,’ said Camilla. ‘I should like to see her

shouldn’t you, Mr Gibson?’

‘I always like to see a pretty woman,’ said Mr Gibson, with a polite

bow, which the sisters shared between them.

‘I suppose she’ll go to church,’ said Camilla.

‘Very likely not,’ said Arabella. ‘Ladies of that sort very often don’t

go to church. I dare say you’ll find that she’ll never stir out of the

place at all, and that not a soul in Nuncombe will ever see her except

the gardener. It is such a thing for a woman to be separated from her

husband! Don’t you think so, Mr Gibson?’

‘Of course it is,’ said he, with a shake of his head, which was

intended to imply that the censure of the church must of course attend

any sundering of those whom the church had bound together; but which

implied also by the absence from it of any intense clerical severity,

that as the separated wife was allowed to live with so very respectable

a lady as Mrs Stanbury, there must probably be some mitigating

circumstances attending this special separation.

‘I wonder what he is like?’ said Camilla, after a pause.

‘Who?’ asked Arabella.

‘The gentleman,’ said Camilla.

‘What gentleman?’ demanded Arabella.

‘I don’t mean Mr Trevelyan,’ said Camilla.

‘I don’t believe there really is eh is there?’ said Mr