Dr Thorne (68 page)

‘Ah, indeed! I am very sorry for that; that must be very distressing to a person like your ladyship. But things are mending, perhaps?'

Lady Arabella did not in the least understand him. ‘Mending!' she said, in her peculiar tone of aristocratic indifference; and then turned to Mr Gazebee, who was on the other side of her.

Sir Louis was not going to stand this. He was the first man in the room, and he knew his own importance. It was not to be borne that Lady Arabella should turn to talk to a dirty attorney, and leave him, a baronet, to eat his dinner without notice. If nothing else would move her, he would let her know who was the real owner of the Greshamsbury title-deeds.

‘I think I saw your ladyship out today, taking a ride.' Lady Arabella had driven through the village in her pony-chair.

‘I never ride,' said she, turning her head for one moment from Mr Gazebee.

‘In the one-horse carriage, I mean, my lady. I was delighted with the way you whipped him up round the corner.'

Whipped him up round the corner! Lady Arabella could make no answer to this; so she went on talking to Mr Gazebee. Sir Louis, repulsed, but not vanquished – resolved not to be vanquished by any Lady Arabella – turned his attention to his plate for a minute or two, and then recommenced.

‘The honour of a glass of wine with you, Lady Arabella,' said he.

‘I never take wine at dinner,' said Lady Arabella. The man was becoming intolerable to her, and she was beginning to fear that it would be necessary for her to fly the room, to get rid of him.

The baronet was again silent for a moment; but he was determined not to be put down.

‘This is a nice-looking country about here,' said he.

‘Yes; very nice,' said Mr Gazebee, endeavouring to relieve the lady of the mansion.

‘I hardly know which I like best; this, or my own place at Boxall Hill. You have the advantage here in trees, and those sort of things. But, as to the house, why, my box there is very comfortable, very. You'd hardly know the place now, Lady Arabella, if you haven't seen it since my governor bought it. How much do you think he spent about the house and grounds, pineries included, you know, and those sort of things?'

Lady Arabella shook her head.

‘Now guess, my lady,' said he. But it was not to be supposed that Lady Arabella should guess on such a subject.

‘I never guess,' said she, with a look of ineffable disgust.

‘What do you say, Mr Gazebee?'

‘Perhaps a hundred thousand pounds.'

‘What! for a house? You can't know much about money, nor yet about building, I think, Mr Gazebee.'

‘Not much,' said Mr Gazebee, ‘as to such magnificent places as Boxall Hill.'

‘Well, my lady, if you won't guess, I'll tell you. It cost twentytwo
thousand four hundred and nineteen pounds four shillings and eightpence. I've all the accounts exact. Now, that's a tidy lot of money for a house for a man to live in.'

Sir Louis spoke this in a loud tone, which at least commanded the attention of the table. Lady Arabella, vanquished, bowed her head, and said that it was a large sum; Mr Gazebee went on sedulously eating his dinner; the squire was struck momentarily dumb in the middle of a long chat with the doctor; even Mr Oriel ceased to whisper; and the girls opened their eyes with astonishment. Before the end of his speech, Sir Louis's voice had become very loud.

‘Yes, indeed,' said Frank; ‘a very tidy lot of money. I'd have generously dropped the four and eightpence if I'd been the architect.'

‘It wasn't all one bill; but that's the tot. I can show the bills': and Sir Louis, well pleased with his triumph, swallowed a glass of wine.

Almost immediately after the cloth was removed, Lady Arabella escaped, and the gentlemen clustered together. Sir Louis found himself next to Mr Oriel, and began to make himself agreeable.

‘A very nice girl, Miss Beatrice; very nice.'

Now Mr Oriel was a modest man, and, when thus addressed as to his future wife, found it difficult to make any reply.

‘You parsons always have your own luck,' said Sir Louis. ‘You get all the beauty, and generally all the money, too. Not much of the latter in this case, though – eh?'

Mr Oriel was dumbfounded. He had never said a word to any creature as to Beatrice's dowry; and when Mr Gresham had told him, with sorrow, that his daughter's portion must be small, he had at once passed away from the subject as one that was hardly fit for conversation, even between him and his future father-in-law; and now he was abruptly questioned on the subject by a man he had never before seen in his life. Of course, he could make no answer.

‘The squire has muddled his matters most uncommonly,' continued Sir Louis, filling his glass for the second time before he passed the bottle. ‘What do you suppose now he owes me, alone; just at one lump, you know?'

Mr Oriel had nothing for it but to run. He could make no
answer, nor would he sit there to hear tidings as to Mr Gresham's embarrassments. So he fairly retreated, without having said one word to his neighbour, finding such discretion to be the only kind of valour left to him.

‘What, Oriel! off already?' said the squire. ‘Anything the matter?'

‘Oh, no; nothing particular. I'm not just quite – I think I'll go out for a few minutes.'

‘See what it is to be in love,' said the squire, half whispering to Dr Thorne. ‘You're not in the same way, I hope?'

Sir Louis then shifted his seat again, and found himself next to Frank. Mr Gazebee was opposite to him, and the doctor opposite to Frank.

‘Parson seems peakish, I think,' said the baronet.

‘Peakish?' said the squire, inquisitively.

‘Rather down on his luck. He's decently well off himself, isn't he?'

There was another pause, and nobody seemed inclined to answer the question.

‘I mean, he's got something more than his bare living.'

‘Oh, yes,' said Frank, laughing. ‘He's got what will buy him bread and cheese when the Rads shut up the Church: – unless, indeed, they shut up the Funds too.'

‘Ah, there's nothing like land,' said Sir Louis: ‘nothing like the dirty acres; is there, squire?'

‘Land is a very good investment, certainly,' said Mr Gresham.

‘The best going,' said the other, who was now, as people say when they mean to be good-natured, slightly under the influence of liquor. ‘The best going – eh, Gazebee?'

Mr Gazebee gathered himself up, and turned away his head, looking out of the window.

‘You lawyers never like to give an opinion without money, ha! ha! ha! Do they, Mr Gresham? You and I have had to pay for plenty of them, and will have to pay for plenty more before they let us alone.'

Here Mr Gazebee got up, and followed Mr Oriel out of the room. He was not, of course, on such intimate terms in the house as was Mr Oriel; but he hoped to be forgiven by the ladies in consequence of the severity of the miseries to which he was
subjected. He and Mr Oriel were soon to be seen through the dining-room window, walking about the grounds with the two eldest Miss Greshams. And Patience Oriel, who had also been of the party, was also to be seen with the twins. Frank looked at his father with almost a malicious smile, and began to think that he too might be better employed out among the walks. Did he think then of a former summer evening when he had half broken Mary's heart by walking there too lovingly with Patience Oriel?

Sir Louis, if he continued his brilliant career of success, would soon be left the cock of the walk. The squire, to be sure, could not bolt, nor could the doctor very well; but they might be equally vanquished, remaining there in their chairs. Dr Thorne, during all this time, was sitting with tingling ears. Indeed, it may be said that his whole body tingled. He was in a manner responsible for this horrid scene; but what could he do to stop it? He could not take Sir Louis up bodily and carry him away. One idea did occur to him. The fly had been ordered for ten o'clock. He could rush out and send for it instantly.

‘You're not going to leave me?' said the squire, in a voice of horror, as he saw the doctor rising from his chair.

‘Oh, no, no, no,' said the doctor; and then he whispered the purpose of his mission. ‘I will be back in two minutes.' The doctor would have given twenty pounds to have closed the scene at once; but he was not the man to desert his friend in such a strait as that.

‘He's a well-meaning fellow, is the doctor,' said Sir Louis, when his guardian was out of the room, ‘very; but he's not up to trap – not at all.'

‘Up to trap – well, I should say he was; that is, if I know what trap means,' said Frank.

‘Ah, but that's just the ticket. Do you know? Now I say Dr Thorne's not a man of the world.'

‘He's about the best man I know, or ever heard of,' said the squire. ‘And if any man ever had a good friend, you have got one in him; and so have I': and the squire silently drank the doctor's health.

‘All very true, I dare say; but yet he's not up to trap. Now look here, squire –'

‘If you don't mind, sir,' said Frank, ‘I've got something very particular – perhaps, however –'

‘Stay till Thorne returns, Frank.'

Frank did stay till Thorne returned, and then escaped.

‘Excuse me, doctor,' said he, ‘but I've something very particular to say; I'll explain tomorrow.' And then the three were left alone.

Sir Louis was now becoming almost drunk, and was knocking his words together. The squire had already attempted to stop the bottle; but the baronet had contrived to get hold of a modicum of Madeira, and there was no preventing him from helping himself; at least, none at that moment.

‘As we were saying about lawyers,' continued Sir Louis. ‘Let's see, what were we saying? Why, squire, it's just here. Those fellows will fleece us both if we don't mind what we are after.'

‘Never mind about lawyers now,' said Dr Thorne, angrily.

‘Ah, but I do mind; most particularly. That's all very well for you, doctor; you've nothing to lose. You've no great stake in the matter. Why, now, what sum of money of mine do you think those d—— doctors are handling?'

‘D—— doctors!' said the squire in a tone of dismay.

‘Lawyers, I mean, of course. Why, now, Gresham; we're all totted now, you see; you're down in my books, I take it, for pretty near a hundred thousand pounds.'

‘Hold your tongue, sir!' said the doctor, getting up.

‘Hold my tongue!' said Sir Louis.

‘Sir Louis Scatcherd,' said the squire, slowly rising from his chair, ‘we will not, if you please, talk about business at the present moment. Perhaps we had better go to the ladies.'

This latter proposition had certainly not come from the squire's heart: going to the ladies was the very last thing for which Sir Louis was now fit. But the squire had said it as being the only recognised formal way he could think of for breaking up the symposium.

‘Oh, very well,' hiccuped the baronet, ‘I'm always ready for the ladies,' and he stretched out his hand to the decanter to get a last glass of Madeira.

‘No,' said the doctor, rising stoutly, and speaking with a determined voice. ‘No; you will have no more wine': and he took the decanter from him.

‘What's all this about?' said Sir Louis, with a drunken laugh.

‘Of course he cannot go into the drawing-room, Mr Gresham.
If you will leave him here with me, I will stay with him till the fly comes. Pray tell Lady Arabella from me, how sorry I am that this has occurred.'

‘Lady Arabella! why, what's the matter with her?' said Sir Louis.

The squire would not leave his friend, and they sat together till the fly came. It was not long, for the doctor had dispatched his messenger with much haste.

‘I am so heartily ashamed of myself,' said the doctor, almost with tears.

The squire took him by the hand, affectionately. ‘I've seen a tipsy man before tonight,' said he.

‘Yes,' said the doctor, ‘and so have I, but –' He did not express the rest of his thoughts.

L
ONG
before the doctor returned home after the little dinner-party above described, Mary had learnt that Frank was already at Greshamsbury. She had heard nothing of him or from him, not a word, nothing in the shape of a message, for twelve months; and at her age twelve months is a long period. Would he come and see her in spite of his mother? Would he send her any tidings of his return, or notice her in any way? If he did not, what would she do? and if he did, what then would she do? It was so hard to resolve; so hard to be deserted; and so hard to dare to wish that she might not be deserted! She continued to say to herself, that it would be better that they should be strangers; and she could hardly keep herself from tears in the fear that they might be so. What chance could there be that he should care for her, after an absence spent in travelling over the world? No; she would forget that affair of his hand; and then, immediately after having so determined, she would confess to herself that it was a thing not to be forgotten, and impossible of oblivion.