Doctor Thorne (Unabridged). Anthony Trollope
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sisters, and the Lady Amelia, each stopped him to let him know that the countess was waiting; and he perceived that a sort of guard was kept upon the door to save her ladyship from any undesirable intrusion.
The countess frowned at the moment of his entrance, but soon smoothed her brow, and invited him to take a chair ready prepared for him opposite to the elbow of the sofa on which she was leaning. She had a small table before her, on which was her teacup, so that she was able to preach at him nearly as well as though she had been ensconced in a pulpit.
“My dear Frank,” said she, in a voice thoroughly suitable to the importance of the communication, “you have to-day come of age.”
Frank remarked that he understood that such was the case, and added that “that was the reason for all the fuss.”
“Yes; you have to-day come of age. Perhaps I should have been glad to see such an occasion noticed at Greshamsbury with some more suitable signs of rejoicing.”
“Oh, aunt! I think we did it all very well.”
“Greshamsbury, Frank, is, or at any rate ought to be, the seat of the first commoner in Barsetshire.
“Well; so it is. I am quite sure there isn’t a better fellow than father anywhere in the county.”
The countess sighed. Her opinion of the poor squire was very different from Frank’s. “It is no use now,” said she, “looking back to that which cannot be cured. The first commoner in Barsetshire should hold a position—I will not of course say equal to that of a peer.”
“Oh dear no; of course not,” said Frank; and a bystander might have thought that there was a touch of satire in his tone.
“No, not equal to that of a peer; but still of very paramount importance. Of course my first ambition is bound up in Porlock.”
“Of course,” said Frank, thinking how very weak was the staff on which his aunt’s ambition rested; for Lord Porlock’s youthful career had not been such as to give unmitigated satisfaction to his parents.
“Is bound up in Porlock:” and then the countess plumed herself; but the mother sighed. “And next to Porlock, Frank, my anxiety is about you.”
“Upon my honour, aunt, I am very much obliged. I shall be all right, you’ll see.”
“Greshamsbury, my dear boy, is not now what it used to be.”
“Isn’t it?” asked Frank.
“No, Frank; by no means. I do not wish to say a word against your father. It may, perhaps have been his misfortune, rather than his fault—”
“She is always down on the governor; always,” said Frank to himself; resolving to stick bravely to the side of the house to which he had elected to belong.
“But there is the fact, Frank, too plain to us all; Greshamsbury is not what it was. It is your duty to restore it to its former importance.”
“My duty!” said Frank, rather puzzled.
“Yes, Frank, your duty. It all depends on you now. Of course you know that your father owes a great deal of money.”
Frank muttered something. Tidings had in some shape reached his ear that his father was not comfortably circumstances as regarded money.
“And then, he has sold Boxall Hill. It cannot be expected that Boxall Hill shall be repurchased, as some horrid man, a railway-maker, I believe—”
“Yes; that’s Scatcherd.”
“Well, he has built a house there, I’m told; so I presume that it cannot be bought back: but it will be your duty, Frank, to pay all the debts that there are on the property, and to purchase what, at any rate, will be equal to Boxall Hill.”
Frank opened his eyes wide and stared at his aunt, as though doubting much whether or no she were in her right mind. He pay off the family debts! He buy up property of four thousand pounds a year! He remained, however, quite quiet, waiting the elucidation of the mystery.
“Frank, of course you understand me.”
Frank was obliged to declare, that just at the present moment he did not find his aunt so clear as usual.
“You have but one line of conduct left you, Frank: your position, as heir to Greshamsbury, is a good one; but your father has unfortunately so hampered you with regard to money, that unless you set the matter right yourself, you can never enjoy that position. Of course you must marry money.”
“Marry money!” said he, considering for the first time that in all probability Mary Thorne’s fortune would not be extensive. “Marry money!”
“Yes, Frank. I know no man whose position so imperatively demands it; and luckily for you, no man can have more facility for doing so. In the first place you are very handsome.”
Frank blushed like a girl of sixteen.
“And then, as the matter is made plain to you at so early an age, you are not of course hampered by any indiscreet tie; by any absurd engagement.”
Frank blushed again; and then saying to himself, “How much the old girl knows about it!” felt a little proud of his passion for Mary Thorne, and of the declaration he had made to her.
“And your connexion with Courcy Castle,” continued the countess, now carrying up the list of Frank’s advantages to its great climax, “will make the matter so easy for you, that really, you will hardly have any difficulty.”
Frank could not but say how much obliged he felt to Courcy Castle and its inmates.
“Of course I would not wish to interfere with you in any underhand way, Frank; but I will tell you what has occurred to me. You have heard, probably, of Miss Dunstable?”
“The daughter of the ointment of Lebanon man?”
“And of course you know that her fortune is immense,” continued the countess, not deigning to notice her nephew’s allusion to the ointment. “Quite immense when compared with the wants and position of any commoner. Now she is coming to Courcy Castle, and I wish you to come and meet her.”
“But, aunt, just at this moment I have to read for my degree like anything. I go up, you know, in October.”
“Degree!” said the countess. “Why, Frank, I am talking to you of your prospects in life, of your future position, of that on which everything hangs, and you tell me of your degree!”
Frank, however, obstinately persisted that he must take his degree, and that he should commence reading hard at six a.m. tomorrow morning.
“You can read just as well at Courcy Castle. Miss Dunstable will not interfere with that,” said his aunt, who knew the expediency of yielding occasionally; “but I must beg you will come over and meet her. You will find her a most charming young woman, remarkably well educated I am told, and—”
“How old is she?” asked Frank.
“I really cannot say exactly,” said the countess; “but it is not, I imagine, matter of much moment.”
“Is she thirty?” asked Frank, who looked upon an unmarried woman of that age as quite an old maid.
“I dare say she may be about that age,” said the countess, who regarded the subject from a very different point of view.
“Thirty!” said Frank out loud, but speaking, nevertheless, as though to himself.
“It is a matter of no moment,” said his aunt, almost angrily. “When the subject itself is of such vital importance, objections of no real weight should not be brought into view. If you wish to hold up your head in the country; if you wish to represent your county in Parliament, as has been done by your father, your grandfather, and your great-grandfathers; if you wish to keep a house over your head, and to leave Greshamsbury to your son after you, you must marry money. What does it signify whether Miss Dunstable be twenty-eight or thirty?