The Way We Live Now, Anthony Trollope [good story books to read .txt] 📗

Ruby, who would have run away and locked herself in an inner chamber had she not been certain that she would be brought back again.

In the afternoon John took his bride to Lowestoft, and brought her back to all the glories of his own house on the following day. His honeymoon was short, but its influence on Ruby was beneficent. When she was alone with the man, knowing that he was her husband, and thinking something of all that he had done to win her to be his wife, she did learn to respect him. “Now, Ruby, give a fellow a buss⁠—as though you meant it,” he said, when the first fitting occasion presented itself.

“Oh, John⁠—what nonsense!”

“It ain’t nonsense to me, I can tell you. I’d sooner have a kiss from you than all the wine as ever was swallowed.” Then she did kiss him, “as though she meant it;” and when she returned with him to Bungay the next day, she had made up her mind that she would endeavour to do her duty by him as his wife.

XCV The Longestaffe Marriages

In another part of Suffolk, not very far from Bungay, there was a lady whose friends had not managed her affairs as well as Ruby’s friends had done for Ruby. Miss Georgiana Longestaffe in the early days of August was in a very miserable plight. Her sister’s marriage with Mr. George Whitstable was fixed for the first of September, a day which in Suffolk is of all days the most sacred; and the combined energies of the houses of Caversham and Toodlam were being devoted to that happy event. Poor Georgey’s position was in every respect wretched, but its misery was infinitely increased by the triumph of those hymeneals. It was but the other day that she had looked down from a very great height on her elder sister, and had utterly despised the squire of Toodlam. And at that time, still so recent, this contempt from her had been accepted as being almost reasonable. Sophia had hardly ventured to rebel against it, and Mr. Whitstable himself had been always afraid to encounter the shafts of irony with which his fashionable future sister-in-law attacked him. But all that was now changed. Sophia in her pride of place had become a tyrant, and George Whitstable, petted in the house with those sweetmeats which are always showered on embryo bridegrooms, absolutely gave himself airs. At this time Mr. Longestaffe was never at home. Having assured himself that there was no longer any danger of the Brehgert alliance he had remained in London, thinking his presence to be necessary for the winding up of Melmotte’s affairs, and leaving poor Lady Pomona to bear her daughter’s ill-humour. The family at Caversham consisted therefore of the three ladies, and was enlivened by daily visits from Toodlam. It will be owned that in this state of things there was very little consolation for Georgiana.

It was not long before she quarrelled altogether with her sister⁠—to the point of absolutely refusing to act as bridesmaid. The reader may remember that there had been a watch and chain, and that two of the ladies of the family had expressed an opinion that these trinkets should be returned to Mr. Brehgert who had bestowed them. But Georgiana had not sent them back when a week had elapsed since the receipt of Mr. Brehgert’s last letter. The matter had perhaps escaped Lady Pomona’s memory, but Sophia was happily alive to the honour of her family. “Georgey,” she said one morning in their mother’s presence, “don’t you think Mr. Brehgert’s watch ought to go back to him without any more delay?”

“What have you got to do with anybody’s watch? The watch wasn’t given to you.”

“I think it ought to go back. When papa finds that it has been kept I’m sure he’ll be very angry.”

“It’s no business of yours whether he’s angry or not.”

“If it isn’t sent George will tell Dolly. You know what would happen then.”

This was unbearable! That George Whitstable should interfere in her affairs⁠—that he should talk about her watch and chain. “I never will speak to George Whitstable again the longest day that ever I live,” she said, getting up from her chair.

“My dear, don’t say anything so horrible as that,” exclaimed the unhappy mother.

“I do say it. What has George Whitstable to do with me? A miserably stupid fellow! Because you’ve landed him, you think he’s to ride over the whole family.”

“I think Mr. Brehgert ought to have his watch and chain back,” said Sophia.

“Certainly he ought,” said Lady Pomona. “Georgiana, it must be sent back. It really must⁠—or I shall tell your papa.”

Subsequently, on the same day, Georgiana brought the watch and chain to her mother, protesting that she had never thought of keeping them, and explaining that she had intended to hand them over to her papa as soon as he should have returned to Caversham. Lady Pomona was now empowered to return them, and they were absolutely confided to the hands of the odious George Whitstable, who about this time made a journey to London in reference to certain garments which he required. But Georgiana, though she was so far beaten, kept up her quarrel with her sister. She would not be bridesmaid. She would never speak to George Whitstable. And she would shut herself up on the day of the marriage.

She did think herself to be very hardly used. What was there left in the world that she could do in furtherance of her future cause? And what did her father and mother expect would become of her? Marriage had ever been so clearly placed before her eyes as a condition of things to be achieved by her own efforts, that she could not endure the idea of remaining tranquil in her father’s house and waiting till some fitting suitor might find her out. She had struggled and struggled⁠—struggling still in vain⁠—till every effort of her mind, every thought of her daily