Doctor Thorne - Anthony Trollope (historical books to read .txt) 📗
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the seventh of May.
It was early in April, however, that the great doings were to be done
at Greshamsbury. Not exactly on the first. It may be presumed, that
in spite of the practical, common-sense spirit of the age, very few
people do choose to have themselves united on that day. But some
day in the first week of that month was fixed for the ceremony, and
from the end of February all through March, Lady Arabella worked and
strove in a manner that entitled her to profound admiration.
It was at last settled that the breakfast should be held in the large
dining-room at Greshamsbury. There was a difficulty about it which
taxed Lady Arabella to the utmost, for, in making the proposition,
she could not but seem to be throwing some slight on the house in
which the heiress had lived. But when the affair was once opened to
Mary, it was astonishing how easy it became.
“Of course,” said Mary, “all the rooms in our house would not hold
half the people you are talking about—if they must come.”
Lady Arabella looked so beseechingly, nay, so piteously, that Mary
had not another word to say. It was evident that they must all come:
the de Courcys to the fifth generation; the Duke of Omnium himself,
and others in concatenation accordingly.
“But will your uncle be angry if we have the breakfast up here? He
has been so very handsome to Frank, that I wouldn’t make him angry
for all the world.”
“If you don’t tell him anything about it, Lady Arabella, he’ll think
that it is all done properly. He will never know, if he’s not told,
that he ought to give the breakfast, and not you.”
“Won’t he, my dear?” And Lady Arabella looked her admiration for this
very talented suggestion. And so that matter was arranged. The doctor
never knew, till Mary told him some year or so afterwards, that he
had been remiss in any part of his duty.
And who was asked to the wedding? In the first place, we have said
that the Duke of Omnium was there. This was, in fact, the one
circumstance that made this wedding so superior to any other that
had ever taken place in that neighbourhood. The Duke of Omnium never
went anywhere; and yet he went to Mary’s wedding! And Mary, when
the ceremony was over, absolutely found herself kissed by a duke.
“Dearest Mary!” exclaimed Lady Arabella, in her ecstasy of joy, when
she saw the honour that was done to her daughter-in-law.
“I hope we shall induce you to come to Gatherum Castle soon,” said
the duke to Frank. “I shall be having a few friends there in the
autumn. Let me see; I declare, I have not seen you since you were
good enough to come to my collection. Ha! ha! ha! It wasn’t bad fun,
was it?” Frank was not very cordial with his answer. He had not quite
reconciled himself to the difference of his position. When he was
treated as one of the “collection” at Gatherum Castle, he had not
married money.
It would be vain to enumerate all the de Courcys that were there.
There was the earl, looking very gracious, and talking to the
squire about the county. And there was Lord Porlock, looking very
ungracious, and not talking to anybody about anything. And there was
the countess, who for the last week past had done nothing but pat
Frank on the back whenever she could catch him. And there were the
Ladies Alexandrina, Margaretta, and Selina, smiling at everybody.
And the Honourable George, talking in whispers to Frank about his
widow—“Not such a catch as yours, you know; but something extremely
snug;—and have it all my own way, too, old fellow, or I shan’t come
to the scratch.” And the Honourable John prepared to toady Frank
about his string of hunters; and the Lady Amelia, by herself, not
quite contented with these democratic nuptials—“After all, she is so
absolutely nobody; absolutely, absolutely,” she said confidentially
to Augusta, shaking her head. But before Lady Amelia had left
Greshamsbury, Augusta was quite at a loss to understand how there
could be need for so much conversation between her cousin and Mr
Mortimer Gazebee.
And there were many more de Courcys, whom to enumerate would be much
too long.
And the bishop of the diocese, and Mrs Proudie were there. A hint
had even been given, that his lordship would himself condescend to
perform the ceremony, if this should be wished; but that work had
already been anticipated by a very old friend of the Greshams.
Archdeacon Grantly, the rector of Plumstead Episcopi, had long since
undertaken this part of the business; and the knot was eventually
tied by the joint efforts of himself and Mr Oriel. Mrs Grantly came
with him, and so did Mrs Grantly’s sister, the new dean’s wife. The
dean himself was at the time unfortunately absent at Oxford.
And all the Bakers and the Jacksons were there. The last time they
had all met together under the squire’s roof, was on the occasion of
Frank’s coming of age. The present gala doings were carried on a very
different spirit. That had been a very poor affair, but this was
worthy of the best days of Greshamsbury.
Occasion also had been taken of this happy moment to make up, or
rather to get rid of the last shreds of the last feud that had so
long separated Dr Thorne from his own relatives. The Thornes of
Ullathorne had made many overtures in a covert way. But our doctor
had contrived to reject them. “They would not receive Mary as their
cousin,” said he, “and I will go nowhere that she cannot go.” But now
all this was altered. Mrs Gresham would certainly be received in any
house in the county. And thus, Mr Thorne of Ullathorne, an amiable,
popular old bachelor, came to the wedding; and so did his maiden
sister, Miss Monica Thorne, than whose no kinder heart glowed through
all Barsetshire.
“My dear,” said she to Mary, kissing her, and offering her some
little tribute, “I am very glad to make your acquaintance; very. It
was not her fault,” she added, speaking to herself. “And now that
she will be a Gresham, that need not be any longer be thought of.”
Nevertheless, could Miss Thorne have spoken her inward thoughts out
loud, she would have declared, that Frank would have done better to
have borne his poverty than marry wealth without blood. But then,
there are but few so stanch as Miss Thorne; perhaps none in that
county—always excepting Lady Amelia.
And Miss Dunstable, also, was a bridesmaid. “Oh, no” said she, when
asked; “you should have them young and pretty.” But she gave way when
she found that Mary did not flatter her by telling her that she was
either the one or the other. “The truth is,” said Miss Dunstable, “I
have always been a little in love with your Frank, and so I shall do
it for his sake.” There were but four: the other two were the Gresham
twins. Lady Arabella exerted herself greatly in framing hints to
induce Mary to ask some of the de Courcy ladies to do her so much
honour; but on this head Mary would please herself. “Rank,” said she
to Beatrice, with a curl on her lip, “has its drawbacks—and must put
up with them.”
And now I find that I have not one page—not half a page—for the
wedding-dress. But what matters? Will it not be all found written in
the columns of the Morning Post?
And thus Frank married money, and became a great man. Let us hope
that he will be a happy man. As the time of the story has been
brought down so near to the present era, it is not practicable for
the novelist to tell much of his future career. When I last heard
from Barsetshire, it seemed to be quite settled that he is to take
the place of one of the old members at the next election; and they
say, also, that there is no chance of any opposition. I have heard,
too, that there have been many very private consultations between him
and various gentlemen of the county, with reference to the hunt; and
the general feeling is said to be that the hounds should go to Boxall
Hill.
At Boxall Hill the young people established themselves on their
return from the Continent. And that reminds me that one word must be
said of Lady Scatcherd.
“You will always stay here with us,” said Mary to her, caressing her
ladyship’s rough hand, and looking kindly into that kind face.
But Lady Scatcherd would not consent to this. “I will come and see
you sometimes, and then I shall enjoy myself. Yes, I will come and
see you, and my own dear boy.” The affair was ended by her taking Mrs
Opie Green’s cottage, in order that she might be near the doctor; Mrs
Opie Green having married—somebody.
And of whom else must we say a word? Patience, also, of course, got
a husband—or will do so. Dear Patience! it would be a thousand
pities that so good a wife should be lost to the world. Whether Miss
Dunstable will ever be married, or Augusta Gresham, or Mr Moffat, or
any of the tribe of the de Courcys—except Lady Amelia—I cannot say.
They have all of them still their future before them. That Bridget
was married to Thomas—that I am able to assert; for I know that
Janet was much put out by their joint desertion.
Lady Arabella has not yet lost her admiration for Mary, and Mary,
in return, behaves admirably. Another event is expected, and her
ladyship is almost as anxious about that as she was about the
wedding. “A matter, you know, of such importance in the county!” she
whispered to Lady de Courcy.
Nothing can be more happy than the intercourse between the squire and
his son. What their exact arrangements are, we need not specially
inquire; but the demon of pecuniary embarrassment has lifted his
black wings from the demesne of Greshamsbury.
And now we have but one word left for the doctor. “If you don’t
come and dine with me,” said the squire to him, when they found
themselves both deserted, “mind I shall come and dine with you.” And
on this principle they seem to act. Dr Thorne continues to extend
his practice, to the great disgust of Dr Fillgrave; and when Mary
suggested to him that he should retire, he almost boxed her ears. He
knows the way, however, to Boxall Hill as well as he ever did, and is
willing to acknowledge, that the tea there is almost as good as it
ever was at Greshamsbury.
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