“I very well remember that when I was in that way it wasn’t thought that such trips would do me any good. But, perhaps, things are altered since then.”
“Yes, they are,” said the doctor. “We don’t interfere so much now-a-days.”
“I know I never asked for such amusements when so much depended on quietness. I remember before Frank was born—and, indeed, when all of them were born— But as you say, things were different then; and I can easily believe that Mary is a person quite determined to have her own way.”
“Why, Lady Arabella, she would have stayed at home without wishing to stir if Frank had done so much as hold up his little finger.”
“So did I always. If Mr. Gresham made the slightest hint I gave way. But I really don’t see what one gets in return for such implicit obedience. Now this year, doctor, of course I should have liked to have been up in London for a week or two. You seemed to think yourself that I might as well see Sir Omicron.”
“There could be no possible objection, I said.”
“Well; no; exactly; and as Mr. Gresham knew I wished it, I think he might as well have offered it. I suppose there can be no reason now about money.”
“But I understood that Mary specially asked you and Augusta?”
“Yes; Mary was very good. She did ask me. But I know very well that Mary wants all the room she has got in London. The house is not at all too large for herself. And, for the matter of that, my sister, the countess, was very anxious that I should be with her. But one does like to be independent if one can, and for one fortnight I do think that Mr. Gresham might have managed it. When I knew that he was so dreadfully out at elbows I never troubled him about it,—though, goodness knows, all that was never my fault.”
“The squire hates London. A fortnight there in warm weather would nearly be the death of him.”