At this period there was, as it were, a truce to the ordinary little skirmishes which had been so customary between Lady Arabella and the squire. Things had so fallen out, that they neither of them had must spirit for a contest; and, moreover, on that point which at the present moment was most thought of by both of them, they were strangely in unison. For each of them was anxious to prevent the threatened marriage of their only son.
It must, moreover, be remembered, that Lady Arabella had carried a great point in ousting Mr Yates Umbleby and putting the management of the estate into the hands of her own partisan. But then the squire had not done less in getting rid of Fillgrave and reinstating Dr Thorne in possession of the family invalids. The losses, therefore, had been equal; the victories equal; and there was a mutual object.
And it must be confessed, also, that Lady Arabella's taste for grandeur was on the decline. Misfortune was coming too near to her to leave her much anxiety for the gaieties of a London season. Things were not faring well with her. When her eldest daughter was going to marry a man of fortune, and a member of Parliament, she had thought nothing of demanding a thousand pounds or so for the extraordinary expenses incident to such an occasion. But now, Beatrice was to become the wife of a parish parson, and even that was thought to be a fortunate event; she had, therefore, no heart for splendour.
'The quieter we can do it the better,' she wrote to her countess-sister.
'Her father wanted to give him at least a thousand pounds; but Mr Gazebee has told me confidentially that it literally cannot be done at the present moment! Ah, my dear Rosina! how things have been managed! If one or two of the girls will come over, we shall all take it as a favour. Beatrice would think it very kind of them. But I don't think of asking you or Amelia.' Amelia was always the grandest of the De Courcy family, being almost on an equality with--nay, in some respect superior to--the countess herself. But this, of course, was before the days of the place in Surrey.
Such, and so humble being the present temper of the lady of Greshamsbury, it will not be thought surprising that she and Mr Gresham should at last come together in their efforts to reclaim their son.
At first Lady Arabella urged upon the squire the duty of being very peremptory and very angry. 'Do as other fathers do in such cases. Make him understand that he will have no allowance to live on.' 'He understands that well enough,' said Mr Gresham.
'Threaten to cut him off with a shilling,' said her ladyship, with spirit. 'I haven't a shilling to cut him off with,' answered the squire, bitterly.
But Lady Arabella herself soon perceived, that this line would not do.
As Mr Gresham himself confessed, his own sins against his son had been to great to allow of his taking a high hand with him. Besides, Mr Gresham was not a man who could ever be severe with a son whose individual conduct had been so good as Frank's. This marriage, was, in his view, a misfortune to be averted if possible,--to be averted by any possible means; but, as far as Frank was concerned, it was to be regarded rather as a monomania than a crime.
'I did feel so certain that he would have succeeded with Miss Dunstable,' said the mother, almost crying.
'I thought it impossible but that at his age a twelvemonth knocking about the world would cure him,' said the father.
'I never heard of a boy being so obstinate about a girl,' said the mother. 'I'm sure he didn't get it from the De Courcys:' and then, again, they talked it over in all its bearings.
'But what are they to live upon?' said Lady Arabella, appealing, as it were, to some impersonation of reason. 'That's what I want him to tell me. What are they to live upon?'
'I wonder whether De Courcy could get him into some embassy?' said the father. 'He does talk of a profession.'
'What! with the girl and all?' asked Lady Arabella with horror, alarmed at the idea of such an appeal being made to her noble brother.
'No; but before he marries. He might be broken of it that way.'
'Nothing will break him,' said the wretched mother; 'nothing--nothing.
For my part, I think that he is possessed. Why was she brought here? Oh, dear! oh, dear! Why was she ever brought into this house?'
This last question Mr Gresham did not think it necessary to answer. That evil had been done, and it would be useless to dispute it. 'I'll tell you what I'll do,' said he. 'I'll speak to the doctor myself.'
'It's not the slightest use,' said Lady Arabella. 'He will not assist us. Indeed, I firmly believe it's all his own doing.'
'Oh, nonsense! that really is nonsense, my love.'
'Very well, Mr Gresham. What I say is always nonsense, I know; you have always told me so. But yet, see how things have turned out. I knew how it would be when she was first brought into the house.' This assertion was rather a stretch on the part of Lady Arabella.
'Well, it is nonsense to say that Frank is in love with the girl at the doctor's bidding.'
'I think you know, Mr Gresham, that I don't mean that. What I say is this, that Dr Thorne, finding what an easy fool Frank is--'
'I don't think he's at all easy, my love; and is certainly not a fool.'
'Very well, have it your own way. I'll not say a word more. I'm struggling to do my best, and I'm browbeaten on every side. God knows I am not in a state of health to bear it!' And Lady Arabella bowed her head into her pocket-handkerchief.
'I think, my dear, if you were to see Mary herself it might do some good,' said the squire, when the violence of his wife's grief had somewhat subsided.
'What! go and call upon this girl?'
'Yes; you can send Beatrice to give her notice, you know. She never was unreasonable, and I do not think that you would find her so. You should tell her, you know--'
'Oh, I should know very well what to tell her, Mr Gresham.'
