Framley Parsonage

A >> Anthony Trollope >> Framley Parsonage


Lucy, instead of answering at the moment, looked down upon the
carpet, to see if his memory were as good as hers. Yes; he was
standing on the exact spot where he had stood before. No spot in all
the world was more frequently clear before her own eyes.

"Do you remember that day, Lucy?" he said again.

"Yes, I remember it," she said.

"Why did you say it was impossible?

"Did I say impossible?" She knew that she had said so. She remembered
how she had waited till he had gone, and that then, going to her own
room, she had reproached herself with the cowardice of the falsehood.
She had lied to him then; and now--how was she punished for it?

"Well, I suppose it was possible," she said.

"But why did you say so when you knew it would make me so miserable?"

"Miserable! nay, but you went away happy enough! I thought I had
never seen you look better satisfied."

"Lucy!"

"You had done your duty, and had had such a lucky escape! What
astonishes me is that you should have ever come back again. But the
pitcher may go to the well once too often, Lord Lufton."

"But will you tell me the truth now?"

"What truth?"

"That day, when I came to you--did you love me at all then?"

"We'll let bygones be bygones, if you please."

"But I swear you shall tell me. It was such a cruel thing to answer
me as you did, unless you meant it. And yet you never saw me again
till after my mother had been over for you to Mrs. Crawley's."

"It was absence that made me--care for you."

"Lucy, I swear I believe you loved me then."

"Ludovic, some conjurer must have told you that." She was standing
as she spoke, and, laughing at him, she held up her hands and shook
her head. But she was now in his power, and he had his revenge--his
revenge for her past falsehood and her present joke. How could he be
more happy when he was made happy by having her all his own, than
he was now? And in these days there again came up that petition as
to her riding--with very different result now than on that former
occasion. There were ever so many objections, then. There was no
habit, and Lucy was--or said that she was--afraid; and then, what
would Lady Lufton say? But now Lady Lufton thought it would be quite
right; only were they quite sure about the horse? Was Ludovic certain
that the horse had been ridden by a lady? And Lady Meredith's habits
were dragged out as a matter of course, and one of them chipped and
snipped and altered, without any compunction. And as for fear, there
could be no bolder horsewoman than Lucy Robarts. It was quite clear
to all Framley that riding was the very thing for her. "But I never
shall be happy, Ludovic, till you have got a horse properly suited
for her," said Lady Lufton. And then, also, came the affair of her
wedding garments, of her _trousseau_--as to which I cannot boast
that she showed capacity or steadiness at all equal to that of Lady
Dumbello. Lady Lufton, however, thought it a very serious matter; and
as, in her opinion, Mrs. Robarts did not go about it with sufficient
energy, she took the matter mainly into her own hands, striking Lucy
dumb by her frowns and nods, deciding on everything herself, down to
the very tags of the boot-ties.

"My dear, you really must allow me to know what I am about;" and
Lady Lufton patted her on the arm as she spoke. "I did it all for
Justinia, and she never had reason to regret a single thing that I
bought. If you'll ask her, she'll tell you so." Lucy did not ask
her future sister-in-law, seeing that she had no doubt whatever
as to her future mother-in-law's judgement on the articles in
question. Only the money! And what could she want with six dozen
pocket-handkerchiefs all at once? There was no question of Lord
Lufton's going out as Governor-General to India! But twelve
dozen pocket-handkerchiefs had not been too many for Griselda's
imagination. And Lucy would sit alone in the drawing-room at Framley
Court, filling her heart with thoughts of that evening when she had
first sat there. She had then resolved, painfully, with inward tears,
with groanings of her spirit, that she was wrongly placed in being
in that company. Griselda Grantly had been there, quite at her ease,
petted by Lady Lufton, admired by Lord Lufton; while she had retired
out of sight, sore at heart, because she felt herself to be no fit
companion to those around her. Then he had come to her, making
matters almost worse by talking to her, bringing the tears into
her eyes by his good-nature, but still wounding her by the feeling
that she could not speak to him at her ease. But things were at a
different pass with her now. He had chosen her--her out of all the
world, and brought her there to share with him his own home, his own
honours, and all that he had to give. She was the apple of his eye,
and the pride of his heart. And the stern mother, of whom she had
stood so much in awe, who at first had passed her by as a thing
not to be noticed, and had then sent out to her that she might be
warned to keep herself aloof, now hardly knew in what way she might
sufficiently show her love, regard, and solicitude.

I must not say that Lucy was not proud in these moments--that her
heart was not elated at these thoughts. Success does beget pride, as
failure begets shame. But her pride was of that sort which is in no
way disgraceful to either man or woman, and was accompanied by pure
true love, and a full resolution to do her duty in that state of life
to which it had pleased her God to call her. She did rejoice greatly
to think that she had been chosen, and not Griselda. Was it possible
that having loved she should not so rejoice, or that, rejoicing, she
should not be proud of her love? They spent the whole winter abroad,
leaving the dowager Lady Lufton to her plans and preparations for
their reception at Framley Court; and in the following spring they
appeared in London, and there set up their staff. Lucy had some inner
tremblings of the spirit, and quiverings about the heart, at thus
beginning her duty before the great world, but she said little or
nothing to her husband on the matter. Other women had done as much
before her time, and by courage had gone through with it. It would be
dreadful enough, that position in her own house with lords and ladies
bowing to her, and stiff members of Parliament for whom it would
be necessary to make small talk; but, nevertheless, it was to be
endured. The time came, and she did endure it. The time came, and
before the first six weeks were over she found that it was easy
enough. The lords and ladies got into their proper places and talked
to her about ordinary matters in a way that made no effort necessary,
and the members of Parliament were hardly more stiff than the
clergymen she had known in the neighbourhood of Framley. She had not
been long in town before she met Lady Dumbello. At this interview
also she had to overcome some little inward emotion. On the few
occasions on which she had met Griselda Grantly at Framley they had
not much progressed in friendship, and Lucy had felt that she had
been despised by the rich beauty. She also in her turn had disliked,
if she had not despised, her rival. But how would it be now? Lady
Dumbello could hardly despise her, and yet it did not seem possible
that they should meet as friends. They did meet, and Lucy came
forward with a pretty eagerness to give her hand to Lady Lufton's
late favourite. Lady Dumbello smiled slightly--the same old smile
which had come across her face when they two had been first
introduced in the Framley drawing-room; the same smile without the
variation of a line,--took the offered hand, muttered a word or
two, and then receded. It was exactly as she had done before. She
had never despised Lucy Robarts. She had accorded to the parson's
sister the amount of cordiality with which she usually received her
acquaintance; and now she could do no more for the peer's wife. Lady
Dumbello and Lady Lufton have known each other ever since, and have
occasionally visited at each other's houses, but the intimacy between
them has never gone beyond this.

The dowager came up to town for about a month, and while there was
contented to fill a second place. She had no desire to be the great
lady in London. But then came the trying period when they commenced
their life together at Framley Court. The elder lady formally
renounced her place at the top of the table,--formally persisted in
renouncing it though Lucy with tears implored her to resume it. She
said also, with equal formality--repeating her determination over and
over again to Mrs. Robarts with great energy,--that she would in no
respect detract by interference of her own from the authority of the
proper mistress of the house; but, nevertheless, it is well known to
every one at Framley that old Lady Lufton still reigns paramount in
the parish.

"Yes, my dear; the big room looking into the little garden to the
south was always the nursery; and if you ask my advice, it will still
remain so. But, of course, any room you please--"

And the big room looking into the little garden to the south is still
the nursery at Framley Court.