He Knew He Was Right by Anthony Trollope (books you need to read .txt) 📕
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years; and now he’s to be here next week! Dear, dear! When I think
sometimes of all the hard words that have been spoken, and the harder
thoughts that have been in people’s minds, I often regret that the
money ever came to me at all. I could have done without it very well,
very well.’
‘But all the unpleasantness is over now, aunt.’
‘I don’t know about that. Unpleasantness of that kind is apt to rankle
long. But I wasn’t going to give up my rights. Nobody but a coward does
that. They talked of going to law and trying the will, but they
wouldn’t have got much by that. And then they abused me for two years.
When they had done and got sick of it, I told them they should have it
all back again as soon as I am dead. It won’t be long now. This Burgess
is the elder nephew, and he shall have it all.’
‘Is not he grateful?’
‘No. Why should he be grateful? I don’t do it for special love of him.
I don’t want his gratitude; nor anybody’s gratitude. Look at Hugh. I
did love him.’
‘I am grateful, Aunt Stanbury.’
‘Are you, my dear? Then show it by being a good wife to Mr Gibson, and
a happy wife. I want to get everything settled while Burgess is here.
If he is to have it, why should I keep him out of it whilst I live? I
wonder whether Mr Gibson would mind coming and living here, Dolly?’
The thing was coming so near to her that Dorothy began to feel that she
must, in truth, make up her mind, and let her aunt know also how it had
been made up. She was sensible enough to perceive that if she did not
prepare herself for the occasion she would find herself hampered by an
engagement simply because her aunt had presumed that it was out of the
question that she should not acquiesce. She would drift into marriage
with Mr Gibson against her will. Her greatest difficulty was the fact
that her aunt clearly had no doubt on the subject. And as for herself,
hitherto her feelings did not, on either side, go beyond doubts.
Assuredly it would be a very good thing for her to become Mrs Gibson,
if only she could create for herself some attachment for the man. At
the present moment her aunt said nothing more about Mr Gibson, having
her mind much occupied with the coming of Mr Brooke Burgess.
‘I remember him twenty years ago and more; as nice a boy as you would
wish to see. His father was the fourth of the brothers. Dear, dear!
Three of them are gone; and the only one remaining is old Barty, whom
no one ever loved.’
The Burgesses had been great people in Exeter, having been both bankers
and brewers there, but the light of the family had paled; and though
Bartholomew Burgess, of whom Miss Stanbury declared that no one had
ever loved him, still had a share in the bank, it was well understood
in the city that the real wealth in the firm of Cropper and Burgess
belonged to the Cropper family. Indeed the most considerable portion of
the fortune that had been realised by old Mr Burgess had come into the
possession of Miss Stanbury herself. Bartholomew Burgess had never
forgiven his brother’s will, and between him and Jemima Stanbury the
feud was irreconcileable. The next brother, Tom Burgess, had been a
solicitor at Liverpool, and had done well there. But Miss Stanbury knew
nothing of the Tom Burgesses as she called them. The fourth brother,
Harry Burgess, had been a clergyman, and this Brooke Burgess, Junior,
who was now coming to the Close, had been left with a widowed mother,
the eldest of a large family. It need not now be told at length how
there had been ill-blood also between this clergyman and the heiress.
There had been attempts at friendship, and at one time Miss Stanbury
had received the Rev. Harry Burgess and all his family at the Close but
the attempts had not been successful; and though our old friend had
never wavered in her determination to leave the money all back to some
one of the Burgess family, and with this view had made a pilgrimage to
London some twelve years since, and had renewed her acquaintance with
the widow and the children, still there had been no comfortable
relations between her and any of the Burgess family. Old Barty Burgess,
whom she met in the Close, or saw in the High Street every day of her
life, was her great enemy. He had tried his best so at least she was
convinced to drive her out of the pale of society, years upon years
ago, by saying evil things of her. She had conquered in that combat.
Her victory had been complete, and she had triumphed after a most
signal fashion. But this triumph did not silence Barty’s tongue, nor
soften his heart. When she prayed to be forgiven, as she herself
forgave others, she always exempted Barty Burgess from her prayers.
There are things which flesh and blood cannot do. She had not liked
Harry Burgess’ widow, nor, for the matter of that, Harry Burgess
himself. When she had last seen the children she had not liked any of
them much, and had had her doubts even as to Brooke. But with that
branch of the family she was willing to try again. Brooke was now
coming to the Close, having received, however, an intimation, that if,
during his visit to Exeter, he chose to see his Uncle Barty, any such
intercourse must be kept quite in the background. While he remained in
Miss Stanbury’s house he was to remain there as though there were no
such person as Mr Bartholomew Burgess in Exeter.
At this time Brooke Burgess was a man just turned thirty, and was a
clerk in the Ecclesiastical Record Office, in Somerset House. No doubt
the peculiar nature and name of the public department to which he was
attached had done something to recommend him to Miss Stanbury.
Ecclesiastical records were things greatly to be reverenced in her
eyes, and she felt that a gentleman who handled them and dealt with
them would probably be sedate, gentlemanlike, and conservative. Brooke
Burgess, when she had last seen him, was just about to enter upon the
duties of the office. Then there had come offence, and she had in truth
known nothing of him from that day to this. The visitor was to be at
Exeter on the following Monday, and very much was done in preparation
of his coming. There was to be a dinner party on that very day, and
dinner parties were not common with Miss Stanbury. She had, however,
explained to Martha that she intended to put her best foot forward.
Martha understood perfectly that Mr Brooke Burgess was to be received
as the heir of property. Sir Peter Mancrudy, the great Devonshire
chemist, was coming to dinner, and Mr and Mrs Powel from Haldon, people
of great distinction in that part of the county, Mrs MacHugh of course;
and, equally of course, Mr Gibson. There was a deep discussion between
Miss Stanbury and Martha as to asking two of the Cliffords, and Mr and
Mrs Noel from Doddiscombeleigh. Martha had been very much in favour of
having twelve. Miss Stanbury had declared that with twelve she must
have two waiters from the greengrocers, and that two waiters would
overpower her own domesticities below stairs. Martha had declared that
she didn’t care about them any more than if they were puppy dogs. But
Miss Stanbury had been quite firm against twelve. She had consented to
have ten for the sake of artistic arrangement at the table; ‘They
should be pantaloons and petticoats alternate, you know,’ she had said
to Martha and had therefore asked the Cliffords. But the Cliffords
could not come, and then she had declined to make any further attempt.
Indeed, a new idea had struck her. Brooke Burgess, her guest, should
sit at one end of the table, and Mr Gibson, the clergyman, at the
other. In this way the proper alternation would be effected. When
Martha heard this, Martha quite understood the extent of the good
fortune that was in store for Dorothy. If Mr Gibson was to be welcomed
in that way, it could only be in preparation of his becoming one of the
family.
And Dorothy herself became aware that she must make up her mind. It was
not so declared to her, but she came to understand that it was very
probable that something would occur on the coming Monday which would
require her to be ready with her answer on that day. And she was
greatly tormented by feeling that if she could not bring herself to
accept Mr Gibson should Mr Gibson propose to her, as to which she
continued to tell herself that the chance of such a thing must be very
remote indeed, but that if he should propose to her, and if she could
not accept him, her aunt ought to know that it would be so before the
moment came. But yet she could not bring herself to speak to her aunt
as though any such proposition were possible.
It happened that during the week, on the Saturday, Priscilla came into
Exeter. Dorothy met her sister at the railway station, and then the two
walked together two miles and back along the Crediton Road. Aunt
Stanbury had consented to Priscilla coming to the Close, even though it
was not the day appointed for such visits; but the walk had been
preferred, and Dorothy felt that she would be able to ask for counsel
from the only human being to whom she could have brought herself to
confide the fact that a gentleman was expected to ask her to marry him.
But it was not till they had turned upon their walk, that she was able
to open her mouth on the subject even to her sister. Priscilla had been
very full of their own cares at Nuncombe, and had said much of her
determination to leave the Clock House and to return to the retirement
of some small cottage. She had already written to Hugh to this effect,
and during their walk had said much of her own folly in having
consented to so great a change in their mode of life. At last Dorothy
struck in with her story.
‘Aunt Stanbury wants me to make a change too.’
‘What change?’ asked Priscilla anxiously.
‘It is not my idea, Priscilla, and I don’t think that there can be
anything in it. Indeed, I’m sure there isn’t. I don’t see how it’s
possible that there should be.’
‘But what is it, Dolly?’
‘I suppose there can’t be any harm in my telling you.’
‘If it’s anything concerning yourself, I should say not. If it concerns
Aunt Stanbury, I dare say she’d rather you held your tongue.’
‘It concerns me most,’ said Dorothy.
‘She doesn’t want you to leave her, does she?’
‘Well; yes; no. By what she said last I shouldn’t leave her at all in
that way. Only I’m sure it’s not possible.’
‘I am the worst hand in the world, Dolly, at guessing a riddle.’
‘You’ve heard of that Mr Gibson, the clergyman haven’t you?’
‘Of course I have.’
‘Well—. Mind, you know, it’s only what Aunt Stanbury says. He has never
so much as opened his lips to me himself, except to say, “How do you
do?” and that kind of thing.’
‘Aunt Stanbury wants you to marry him?’
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