Framley Parsonage: Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Dr. Thorne

When Miss Dunstable met her friends the Greshams--young Frank Gresham
and his wife--at Gatherum Castle, she immediately asked after one Dr.
Thorne, who was Mrs. Gresham's uncle. Dr. Thorne was an old bachelor,
in whom both as a man and a doctor Miss Dunstable was inclined to
place much confidence. Not that she had ever entrusted the cure of
her bodily ailments to Dr. Thorne--for she kept a doctor of her own,
Dr. Easyman, for this purpose--and it may moreover be said that she
rarely had bodily ailments requiring the care of any doctor. But she
always spoke of Dr. Thorne among her friends as a man of wonderful
erudition and judgement; and had once or twice asked and acted on his
advice in matters of much moment. Dr. Thorne was not a man accustomed
to the London world; he kept no house there, and seldom even visited
the metropolis; but Miss Dunstable had known him at Greshamsbury,
where he lived, and there had for some months past grown up a
considerable intimacy between them. He was now staying at the house
of his niece, Mrs. Gresham; but the chief reason of his coming up had
been a desire expressed by Miss Dunstable, that he should do so. She
had wished for his advice; and at the instigation of his niece he
had visited London and given it. The special piece of business as
to which Dr. Thorne had thus been summoned from the bedsides of his
country patients, and especially from the bedside of Lady Arabella
Gresham, to whose son his niece was married, related to certain
large money interests, as to which one might have imagined that Dr.
Thorne's advice would not be peculiarly valuable. He had never been
much versed in such matters on his own account, and was knowing
neither in the ways of the share market, nor in the prices of land.
But Miss Dunstable was a lady accustomed to have her own way, and
to be indulged in her own wishes without being called on to give
adequate reasons for them. "My dear," she had said to young Mrs.
Gresham, "if your uncle don't come up to London now, when I make such
a point of it, I shall think that he is a bear and a savage; and I
certainly will never speak to him again,--or to Frank--or to you;
so you had better see to it." Mrs. Gresham had not probably taken
her friend's threat as meaning quite all that it threatened. Miss
Dunstable habitually used strong language; and those who knew her
well, generally understood when she was to be taken as expressing her
thoughts by figures of speech. In this instance she had not meant
it all; but, nevertheless, Mrs. Gresham had used violent influence
in bringing the poor doctor up to London. "Besides," said Miss
Dunstable, "I have resolved on having the doctor at my conversazione,
and if he won't come of himself, I shall go down and fetch him. I
have set my heart on trumping my dear friend Mrs. Proudie's best
card; so I mean to get everybody!"

The upshot of all this was, that the doctor did come up to town, and
remained the best part of a week at his niece's house in Portman
Square--to the great disgust of the Lady Arabella, who conceived
that she must die if neglected for three days. As to the matter
of business, I have no doubt but that he was of great use. He was
possessed of common sense and an honest purpose; and I am inclined to
think that they are often a sufficient counterpoise to a considerable
amount of worldly experience. If one could have the worldly
experience also--! True! but then it is so difficult to get
everything. But with that special matter of business we need not
have any further concern. We will presume it to have been discussed
and completed, and will now dress ourselves for Miss Dunstable's
conversazione. But it must not be supposed that she was so poor in
genius as to call her party openly by a name borrowed for the nonce
from Mrs. Proudie. It was only among her specially intimate friends,
Mrs. Harold Smith and some few dozen others, that she indulged in
this little joke. There had been nothing in the least pretentious
about the card with which she summoned her friends to her house on
this occasion. She had merely signified in some ordinary way, that
she would be glad to see them as soon after nine o'clock on Thursday
evening, the ---- instant, as might be convenient. But all the world
understood that all the world was to be gathered together at Miss
Dunstable's house on the night in question--that an effort was to be
made to bring together people of all classes, gods and giants, saints
and sinners, those rabid through the strength of their morality,
such as our dear friend Lady Lufton, and those who were rabid in the
opposite direction, such as Lady Hartletop, the Duke of Omnium, and
Mr. Sowerby. An orthodox martyr had been caught from the East, and an
oily latter-day St. Paul, from the other side of the water--to the
horror and amazement of Archdeacon Grantly, who had come up all the
way from Plumstead to be present on the occasion. Mrs. Grantly also
had hankered to be there; but when she heard of the presence of the
latter-day St. Paul, she triumphed loudly over her husband, who had
made no offer to take her. That Lords Brock and De Terrier were to be
at the gathering was nothing. The pleasant king of the gods and the
courtly chief of the giants could shake hands with each other in
any house with the greatest pleasure; but men were to meet who, in
reference to each other, could shake nothing but their heads or
their fists. Supplehouse was to be there, and Harold Smith, who now
hated his enemy with a hatred surpassing that of women--or even
of politicians. The minor gods, it was thought, would congregate
together in one room, very bitter in their present state of
banishment; and the minor giants in another, terribly loud in their
triumph. That is the fault of the giants, who, otherwise, are not
bad fellows; they are unable to endure the weight of any temporary
success. When attempting Olympus--and this work of attempting is
doubtless their natural condition--they scratch and scramble,
diligently using both toes and fingers, with a mixture of
good-humoured virulence and self-satisfied industry that is
gratifying to all parties. But whenever their efforts are
unexpectedly, and for themselves unfortunately successful, they are
so taken aback that they lose the power of behaving themselves with
even gigantesque propriety.

Such, so great and so various, was to be the intended gathering
at Miss Dunstable's house. She herself laughed, and quizzed
herself--speaking of the affair to Mrs. Harold Smith as though it
were an excellent joke, and to Mrs. Proudie as though she were simply
emulous of rivalling those world-famous assemblies in Gloucester
Place; but the town at large knew that an effort was being made,
and it was supposed that even Miss Dunstable was somewhat nervous.
In spite of her excellent joking it was presumed that she would be
unhappy if she failed. To Mrs. Frank Gresham she did speak with some
little seriousness. "But why on earth should you give yourself all
this trouble?" that lady had said, when Miss Dunstable owned that she
was doubtful, and unhappy in her doubts, as to the coming of one of
the great colleagues of Mr. Supplehouse. "When such hundreds are
coming, big wigs and little wigs of all shades, what can it matter
whether Mr. Towers be there or not?" But Miss Dunstable had answered
almost with a screech,--

"My dear, it will be nothing without him. You don't understand; but
the fact is that Tom Towers is everybody and everything at present."
And then, by no means for the first time, Mrs. Gresham began to
lecture her friend as to her vanity; in answer to which lecture Miss
Dunstable mysteriously hinted, that if she were only allowed her full
swing on this occasion,--if all the world would now indulge her, she
would-- She did not quite say what she would do, but the inference
drawn by Mrs. Gresham was this: that if the incense now offered on
the altar of Fashion were accepted, Miss Dunstable would at once
abandon the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, and all the
sinful lusts of the flesh.

"But the doctor will stay, my dear? I hope I may look on that as
fixed." Miss Dunstable, in making this demand on the doctor's time,
showed an energy quite equal to that with which she invoked the gods
that Tom Towers might not be absent. Now, to tell the truth, Dr.
Thorne had at first thought it very unreasonable that he should be
asked to remain up in London in order that he might be present at an
evening party, and had for a while pertinaciously refused; but when
he learned that three or four prime ministers were expected, and that
it was possible that even Tom Towers might be there in the flesh, his
philosophy also had become weak, and he had written to Lady Arabella
to say that his prolonged absence for two days further must be
endured, and that the mild tonics, morning and evening, might be
continued. But why should Miss Dunstable be so anxious that Dr.
Thorne should be present on this grand occasion? Why, indeed, should
she be so frequently inclined to summon him away from his country
practice, his compounding board, and his useful ministrations to
rural ailments? The doctor was connected with her by no ties of
blood. Their friendship, intimate as it was, had as yet been but of
short date. She was a very rich woman, capable of purchasing all
manner of advice and good counsel, whereas he was so far from being
rich, that any continued disturbance to his practice might be
inconvenient to him. Nevertheless, Miss Dunstable seemed to have no
more compunction in making calls upon his time, than she might have
felt had he been her brother. No ideas on this matter suggested
themselves to the doctor himself. He was a simple-minded man, taking
things as they came, and especially so taking things that came
pleasantly. He liked Miss Dunstable, and was gratified by her
friendship, and did not think of asking himself whether she had a
right to put him to trouble and inconvenience. But such ideas did
occur to Mrs. Gresham, the doctor's niece. Had Miss Dunstable any
object, and if so, what object? Was it simply veneration for the
doctor, or was it caprice? Was it eccentricity--or could it possibly
be love? In speaking of the ages of these two friends it may be
said in round terms that the lady was well past forty, and that the
gentleman was well past fifty. Under such circumstances could it
be love? The lady, too, was one who had had offers almost by the
dozen,--offers from men of rank, from men of fashion, and from men
of power; from men endowed with personal attractions, with pleasant
manners, with cultivated tastes, and with eloquent tongues. Not only
had she loved none such, but by none such had she been cajoled into
an idea that it was possible that she could love them. That Dr.
Thorne's tastes were cultivated, and his manners pleasant, might
probably be admitted by three or four old friends in the country
who valued him; but the world in London, that world to which Miss
Dunstable was accustomed, and which was apparently becoming dearer to
her day by day, would not have regarded the doctor as a man likely to
become the object of a lady's passion. But nevertheless the idea did
occur to Mrs. Gresham. She had been brought up at the elbow of this
country practitioner; she had lived with him as though she had been
his daughter; she had been for years the ministering angel of his
household; and, till her heart had opened to the natural love of
womanhood, all her closest sympathies had been with him. In her eyes
the doctor was all but perfect; and it did not seem to her to be out
of the question that Miss Dunstable should have fallen in love with
her uncle.

Miss Dunstable once said to Mrs. Harold Smith that it was possible
that she might marry, the only condition then expressed being this,
that the man elected should be one who was quite indifferent as to
money. Mrs. Harold Smith, who, by her friends, was presumed to know
the world with tolerable accuracy, had replied that such a man Miss
Dunstable would never find in this world. All this had passed in that
half-comic vein of banter which Miss Dunstable so commonly used when
conversing with such friends as Mrs. Harold Smith; but she had spoken
words of the same import more than once to Mrs. Gresham; and Mrs.
Gresham, putting two and two together as women do, had made four
of the little sum; and as the final result of the calculation,
determined that Miss Dunstable would marry Dr. Thorne if Dr. Thorne
would ask her. And then Mrs. Gresham began to bethink herself of two
other questions. Would it be well that her uncle should marry Miss
Dunstable? and if so, would it be possible to induce him to make such
a proposition? After the consideration of many pros and cons, and the
balancing of very various arguments, Mrs. Gresham thought that the
arrangement on the whole might not be a bad one. For Miss Dunstable
she herself had a sincere affection, which was shared by her husband.
She had often grieved at the sacrifices Miss Dunstable made to
the world, thinking that her friend was falling into vanity,
indifference, and an ill mode of life; but such a marriage as this
would probably cure all that. And then as to Dr. Thorne himself, to
whose benefit were of course applied Mrs. Gresham's most earnest
thoughts in this matter, she could not but think that he would be
happier married than he was single. In point of temper, no woman
could stand higher than Miss Dunstable; no one had ever heard of her
being in an ill-humour; and then though Mrs. Gresham was gifted with
a mind which was far removed from being mercenary, it was impossible
not to feel that some benefit must accrue from the bride's wealth.
Mary Thorne, the present Mrs. Frank Gresham, had herself been a
great heiress. Circumstances had weighted her hand with enormous
possessions, and hitherto she had not realized the truth of that
lesson which would teach us to believe that happiness and riches
are incompatible. Therefore she resolved that it might be well if
the doctor and Miss Dunstable were brought together. But could the
doctor be induced to make such an offer? Mrs. Gresham acknowledged a
terrible difficulty in looking at the matter from that point of view.
Her uncle was fond of Miss Dunstable; but she was sure that an idea
of such a marriage had never entered his head; that it would be very
difficult--almost impossible--to create such an idea; and that if the
idea were there, the doctor could hardly be instigated to make the
proposition. Looking at the matter as a whole, she feared that the
match was not practicable.

On the day of Miss Dunstable's party, Mrs. Gresham and her uncle
dined together alone in Portman Square. Mr. Gresham was not yet in
Parliament, but an almost immediate vacancy was expected in his
division of the county, and it was known that no one could stand
against him with any chance of success. This threw him much among the
politicians of his party--those giants, namely, whom it would be his
business to support--and on this account he was a good deal away from
his own house at the present moment. "Politics make a terrible demand
on a man's time," he said to his wife; and then went down to dine at
his club in Pall Mall, with sundry other young philogeants. On men of
that class politics do make a great demand--at the hour of dinner and
thereabouts.

"What do you think of Miss Dunstable?" said Mrs. Gresham to her
uncle, as they sat together over their coffee. She added nothing to
the question, but asked it in all its baldness.

"Think about her!" said the doctor; "well, Mary, what do you think
about her? I dare say we think the same."

"But that's not the question. What do you think about her? Do you
think she's honest?"

"Honest? Oh, yes, certainly--very honest, I should say."

"And good-tempered?"

"Uncommonly good-tempered."

"And affectionate?"

"Well, yes; and affectionate. I should certainly say that she is
affectionate."

"I'm sure she's clever."

"Yes, I think she's clever."

"And, and--and womanly in her feelings." Mrs. Gresham felt that she
could not quite say lady-like, though she would fain have done so had
she dared.

"Oh, certainly," said the doctor. "But, Mary, why are you dissecting
Miss Dunstable's character with so much ingenuity?"

"Well, uncle, I will tell you why; because--" and Mrs. Gresham, while
she was speaking, got up from her chair, and going round the table to
her uncle's side, put her arm round his neck till her face was close
to his, and then continued speaking as she stood behind him out of
his sight--"because--I think that Miss Dunstable is--is very fond of
you; and that it would make her happy if you would--ask her to be
your wife."

"Mary!" said the doctor, turning round with an endeavour to look his
niece in the face.

"I am quite in earnest, uncle--quite in earnest. From little things
that she has said, and little things that I have seen, I do believe
what I now tell you."

"And you want me to--"

"Dear uncle; my own one darling uncle, I want you only to do that
which will make you--make you happy. What is Miss Dunstable to me
compared to you?" And then she stooped down and kissed him. The
doctor was apparently too much astounded by the intimation given him
to make any further immediate reply. His niece, seeing this, left him
that she might go and dress; and when they met again in the
drawing-room Frank Gresham was with them.

Back to chapter list of: Framley Parsonage