Framley Parsonage by Anthony Trollope (good books to read for young adults TXT) 📕

also Griselda would not go out, but at four o’clock a servant brought a letter to her from Mount Street. Her mother had arrived in London and wished to see her at once. Mrs. Grantly sent her love to Lady Lufton, and would call at half-past five, or at any later hour at which it might be convenient for Lady Lufton to see her. Griselda was to stay and dine in Mount Street; so said the letter. Lady Lufton declared that she would be very happy to see Mrs. Grantly at the hour named; and then, armed with this message, Griselda started for her mother’s lodgings.

“I’ll send the carriage for you,” said Lady Lufton. “I suppose about ten will do.”

“Thank you,” said Griselda, “that will do very nicely;” and then she went.

Exactly at half-past five Mrs. Grantly was shown into Lady Lufton’s drawing-room. Her daughter did not come with her, and Lady Lufton could see by the expression of her friend’s face that business was to be discussed. Indeed, it was necessary that she herself should discuss business, for Mrs. Grantly must now be told that the family treaty could not be ratified. The gentleman declined the alliance, and poor Lady Lufton was uneasy in her mind at the nature of the task before her.

“Your coming up has been rather unexpected,” said Lady Lufton, as soon as her friend was seated on the sofa.

“Yes, indeed; I got a letter from the archdeacon only this morning, which made it absolutely necessary that I should come.”

“No bad news, I hope?” said Lady Lufton.

“No; I can’t call it bad news. But, dear Lady Lufton, things won’t always turn out exactly as one would have them.”

“No, indeed,” said her ladyship, remembering that it was incumbent on her to explain to Mrs. Grantly now at this present interview the tidings with which her mind was fraught. She would, however, let Mrs. Grantly first tell her own story, feeling, perhaps, that the one might possibly bear upon the other.

“Poor dear Griselda!” said Mrs. Grantly, almost with a sigh. “I need not tell you, Lady Lufton, what my hopes were regarding her.”

“Has she told you anything⁠—anything that⁠—”

“She would have spoken to you at once⁠—and it was due to you that she should have done so⁠—but she was timid; and not unnaturally so. And then it was right that she should see her father and me before she quite made up her own mind. But I may say that it is settled now.”

“What is settled?” asked Lady Lufton.

“Of course it is impossible for anyone to tell beforehand how these things will turn out,” continued Mrs. Grantly, beating about the bush rather more than was necessary. “The dearest wish of my heart was to see her married to Lord Lufton. I should so much have wished to have her in the same county with me, and such a match as that would have fully satisfied my ambition.”

“Well, I should rather think it might!” Lady Lufton did not say this out loud, but she thought it. Mrs. Grantly was absolutely speaking of a match between her daughter and Lord Lufton as though she would have displayed some amount of Christian moderation in putting up with it! Griselda Grantly might be a very nice girl; but even she⁠—so thought Lady Lufton at the moment⁠—might possibly be priced too highly.

“Dear Mrs. Grantly,” she said, “I have foreseen for the last few days that our mutual hopes in this respect would not be gratified. Lord Lufton, I think;⁠—but perhaps it is not necessary to explain⁠—Had you not come up to town I should have written to you⁠—probably today. Whatever may be dear Griselda’s fate in life, I sincerely hope that she may be happy.”

“I think she will,” said Mrs. Grantly, in a tone that expressed much satisfaction.

“Has⁠—has anything⁠—”

“Lord Dumbello proposed to Griselda the other night, at Miss Dunstable’s party,” said Mrs. Grantly, with her eyes fixed upon the floor, and assuming on the sudden much meekness in her manner; “and his lordship was with the archdeacon yesterday, and again this morning. I fancy he is in Mount Street at the present moment.”

“Oh, indeed!” said Lady Lufton. She would have given worlds to have possessed at the moment sufficient self-command to have enabled her to express in her tone and manner unqualified satisfaction at the tidings. But she had not such self-command, and was painfully aware of her own deficiency.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Grantly. “And as it is all so far settled, and as I know you are so kindly anxious about dear Griselda, I thought it right to let you know at once. Nothing can be more upright, honourable, and generous, than Lord Dumbello’s conduct; and, on the whole, the match is one with which I and the archdeacon cannot but be contented.”

“It is certainly a great match,” said Lady Lufton. “Have you seen Lady Hartletop yet?”

Now Lady Hartletop could not be regarded as an agreeable connection, but this was the only word which escaped from Lady Lufton that could be considered in any way disparaging, and, on the whole, I think that she behaved well.

“Lord Dumbello is so completely his own master that that has not been necessary,” said Mrs. Grantly. “The marquis has been told, and the archdeacon will see him either tomorrow or the day after.”

There was nothing left for Lady Lufton but to congratulate her friend, and this she did in words perhaps not very sincere, but which, on the whole, were not badly chosen.

“I am sure I hope she will be very happy,” said Lady Lufton, “and I trust that the alliance”⁠—the word was very agreeable to Mrs. Grantly’s ear⁠—“will give unalloyed gratification to you and to her father. The position which she is called to fill is a very splendid one, but I do not think that it is above her merits.”

This was very generous, and so Mrs. Grantly felt it. She had expected that her news would be received with the coldest shade of civility, and she was quite prepared to do battle if there were occasion. But she had no wish for