precluded that pain which Lady Russell would suffer in entering the
house again, and returning through the well-known apartments.
In such moments Anne had no power of saying to herself, "These rooms
ought to belong only to us. Oh, how fallen in their destination! How
unworthily occupied! An ancient family to be so driven away!
Strangers filling their place!" No, except when she thought of her
mother, and remembered where she had been used to sit and preside, she
had no sigh of that description to heave.
Mrs Croft always met her with a kindness which gave her the pleasure of
fancying herself a favourite, and on the present occasion, receiving
her in that house, there was particular attention.
The sad accident at Lyme was soon the prevailing topic, and on
comparing their latest accounts of the invalid, it appeared that each
lady dated her intelligence from the same hour of yestermorn; that
Captain Wentworth had been in Kellynch yesterday (the first time since
the accident), had brought Anne the last note, which she had not been
able to trace the exact steps of; had staid a few hours and then
returned again to Lyme, and without any present intention of quitting
it any more. He had enquired after her, she found, particularly; had
expressed his hope of Miss Elliot's not being the worse for her
exertions, and had spoken of those exertions as great. This was
handsome, and gave her more pleasure than almost anything else could
have done.
As to the sad catastrophe itself, it could be canvassed only in one
style by a couple of steady, sensible women, whose judgements had to
work on ascertained events; and it was perfectly decided that it had
been the consequence of much thoughtlessness and much imprudence; that
its effects were most alarming, and that it was frightful to think, how
long Miss Musgrove's recovery might yet be doubtful, and how liable she
would still remain to suffer from the concussion hereafter! The
Admiral wound it up summarily by exclaiming--
"Ay, a very bad business indeed. A new sort of way this, for a young
fellow to be making love, by breaking his mistress's head, is not it,
Miss Elliot? This is breaking a head and giving a plaster, truly!"
Admiral Croft's manners were not quite of the tone to suit Lady
Russell, but they delighted Anne. His goodness of heart and simplicity
of character were irresistible.
"Now, this must be very bad for you," said he, suddenly rousing from a
little reverie, "to be coming and finding us here. I had not
recollected it before, I declare, but it must be very bad. But now, do
not stand upon ceremony. Get up and go over all the rooms in the house
if you like it."
"Another time, Sir, I thank you, not now."
"Well, whenever it suits you. You can slip in from the shrubbery at
any time; and there you will find we keep our umbrellas hanging up by
that door. A good place is not it? But," (checking himself), "you
will not think it a good place, for yours were always kept in the
butler's room. Ay, so it always is, I believe. One man's ways may be
as good as another's, but we all like our own best. And so you must
judge for yourself, whether it would be better for you to go about the
house or not."
Anne, finding she might decline it, did so, very gratefully.
"We have made very few changes either," continued the Admiral, after
thinking a moment. "Very few. We told you about the laundry-door, at
Uppercross. That has been a very great improvement. The wonder was,
how any family upon earth could bear with the inconvenience of its
opening as it did, so long! You will tell Sir Walter what we have
done, and that Mr Shepherd thinks it the greatest improvement the house
ever had. Indeed, I must do ourselves the justice to say, that the few
alterations we have made have been all very much for the better. My
wife should have the credit of them, however. I have done very little
besides sending away some of the large looking-glasses from my
dressing-room, which was your father's. A very good man, and very much
the gentleman I am sure: but I should think, Miss Elliot," (looking
with serious reflection), "I should think he must be rather a dressy
man for his time of life. Such a number of looking-glasses! oh Lord!
there was no getting away from one's self. So I got Sophy to lend me a
hand, and we soon shifted their quarters; and now I am quite snug, with
my little shaving glass in one corner, and another great thing that I
never go near."
Anne, amused in spite of herself, was rather distressed for an answer,
and the Admiral, fearing he might not have been civil enough, took up
the subject again, to say--
"The next time you write to your good father, Miss Elliot, pray give
him my compliments and Mrs Croft's, and say that we are settled here
quite to our liking, and have no fault at all to find with the place.
The breakfast-room chimney smokes a little, I grant you, but it is only
when the wind is due north and blows hard, which may not happen three
times a winter. And take it altogether, now that we have been into
most of the houses hereabouts and can judge, there is not one that we
like better than this. Pray say so, with my compliments. He will be
glad to hear it."
Lady Russell and Mrs Croft were very well pleased with each other: but
the acquaintance which this visit began was fated not to proceed far at
present; for when it was returned, the Crofts announced themselves to
be going away for a few weeks, to visit their connexions in the north
of the county, and probably might not be at home again before Lady
Russell would be removing to Bath.
So ended all danger to Anne of meeting Captain Wentworth at Kellynch
Hall, or of seeing him in company with her friend. Everything was safe
enough, and she smiled over the many anxious feelings she had wasted on
the subject.
Chapter 14
Though Charles and Mary had remained at Lyme much longer after Mr and
Mrs Musgrove's going than Anne conceived they could have been at all
wanted, they were yet the first of the family to be at home again; and
as soon as possible after their return to Uppercross they drove over to
the Lodge. They had left Louisa beginning to sit up; but her head,
though clear, was exceedingly weak, and her nerves susceptible to the
highest extreme of tenderness; and though she might be pronounced to be
altogether doing very well, it was still impossible to say when she
might be able to bear the removal home; and her father and mother, who
must return in time to receive their younger children for the Christmas
holidays, had hardly a hope of being allowed to bring her with them.
They had been all in lodgings together. Mrs Musgrove had got Mrs
Harville's children away as much as she could, every possible supply
from Uppercross had been furnished, to lighten the inconvenience to the
Harvilles, while the Harvilles had been wanting them to come to dinner
every day; and in short, it seemed to have been only a struggle on each
side as to which should be most disinterested and hospitable.
Mary had had her evils; but upon the whole, as was evident by her
staying so long, she had found more to enjoy than to suffer. Charles
Hayter had been at Lyme oftener than suited her; and when they dined
with the Harvilles there had been only a maid-servant to wait, and at
first Mrs Harville had always given Mrs Musgrove precedence; but then,
she had received so very handsome an apology from her on finding out
whose daughter she was, and there had been so much going on every day,
there had been so many walks between their lodgings and the Harvilles,
and she had got books from the library, and changed them so often, that
the balance had certainly been much in favour of Lyme. She had been
taken to Charmouth too, and she had bathed, and she had gone to church,
and there were a great many more people to look at in the church at
Lyme than at Uppercross; and all this, joined to the sense of being so
very useful, had made really an agreeable fortnight.
Anne enquired after Captain Benwick. Mary's face was clouded directly.
Charles laughed.
"Oh! Captain Benwick is very well, I believe, but he is a very odd
young man. I do not know what he would be at. We asked him to come
home with us for a day or two: Charles undertook to give him some
shooting, and he seemed quite delighted, and, for my part, I thought it
was all settled; when behold! on Tuesday night, he made a very awkward
sort of excuse; 'he never shot' and he had 'been quite misunderstood,'
and he had promised this and he had promised that, and the end of it
was, I found, that he did not mean to come. I suppose he was afraid of
finding it dull; but upon my word I should have thought we were lively
enough at the Cottage for such a heart-broken man as Captain Benwick."
Charles laughed again and said, "Now Mary, you know very well how it
really was. It was all your doing," (turning to Anne.) "He fancied
that if he went with us, he should find you close by: he fancied
everybody to be living in Uppercross; and when he discovered that Lady
Russell lived three miles off, his heart failed him, and he had not
courage to come. That is the fact, upon my honour. Mary knows it is."
But Mary did not give into it very graciously, whether from not
considering Captain Benwick entitled by birth and situation to be in
love with an Elliot, or from not wanting to believe Anne a greater
attraction to Uppercross than herself, must be left to be guessed.
Anne's good-will, however, was not to be lessened by what she heard.
She boldly acknowledged herself flattered, and continued her enquiries.
"Oh! he talks of you," cried Charles, "in such terms--" Mary
interrupted him. "I declare, Charles, I never heard him mention Anne
twice all the time I was there. I declare, Anne, he never talks of you
at all."
"No," admitted Charles, "I do not know that he ever does, in a general
way; but however, it is a very clear thing that he admires you
exceedingly. His head is full of some books that he is reading upon
your recommendation, and he wants to talk to you about them; he has
found out something or other in one of them which he thinks--oh! I
cannot pretend to remember it, but it was something very fine--I
overheard him telling Henrietta all about it; and then 'Miss Elliot'
was spoken of in the highest terms! Now Mary, I declare it was so, I
heard it myself, and you were in the other room. 'Elegance, sweetness,
beauty.' Oh! there was no end of Miss Elliot's charms."
"And I am sure," cried Mary, warmly, "it was a very little to his
credit, if he did. Miss Harville only died last June. Such a heart is
very little worth having; is it, Lady Russell? I am sure you will
agree with me."
"I must see Captain Benwick before I decide," said Lady Russell,
smiling.
"And that you are very likely to do very soon, I can tell you, ma'am,"
said Charles. "Though he had not nerves for coming away with us, and
setting off again afterwards to pay a formal visit here, he will make
his way over to Kellynch one day by himself, you may depend on it. I
told him the distance and the road, and I told him of the church's
being so very well worth seeing; for as he has a taste for those sort
of things, I thought that would be a good excuse, and he listened with
all his understanding and soul; and I am sure from his manner that you
will have him calling here soon. So, I give you notice, Lady Russell."
"Any acquaintance of Anne's will always be welcome to me," was Lady
Russell's kind answer.
"Oh! as to being Anne's acquaintance," said Mary, "I think he is rather
my acquaintance, for I have been seeing him every day this last
fortnight."
"Well, as your joint acquaintance, then, I shall be very happy to see
Captain Benwick."
"You will not find anything very agreeable in him, I assure you, ma'am.
He is one of the dullest young men that ever lived. He has walked with
me, sometimes, from one end of the sands to the other, without saying a
word. He is not at all a well-bred young man. I am sure you will not
like him."
"There we differ, Mary," said Anne. "I think Lady Russell would like
him. I think she would be so much pleased with his mind, that she
would very soon see no deficiency in his manner."
"So do I, Anne," said Charles. "I am sure Lady Russell would like him.
He is just Lady Russell's sort. Give him a book, and he will read all
day long."
"Yes, that he will!" exclaimed Mary, tauntingly. "He will sit poring
over his book, and not know when a person speaks to him, or when one
drops one's scissors, or anything that happens. Do you think Lady
Russell would like that?"
Lady Russell could not help laughing. "Upon my word," said she, "I
should not have supposed that my opinion of any one could have admitted
of such difference of conjecture, steady and matter of fact as I may
call myself. I have really a curiosity to see the person who can give
occasion to such directly opposite notions. I wish he may be induced
to call here. And when he does, Mary, you may depend upon hearing my
opinion; but I am determined not to judge him beforehand."
"You will not like him, I will answer for it."
Lady Russell began talking of something else. Mary spoke with
animation of their meeting with, or rather missing, Mr Elliot so
extraordinarily.
"He is a man," said Lady Russell, "whom I have no wish to see. His
declining to be on cordial terms with the head of his family, has left
a very strong impression in his disfavour with me."
This decision checked Mary's eagerness, and stopped her short in the
midst of the Elliot countenance.
With regard to Captain Wentworth, though Anne hazarded no enquiries,
there was voluntary communication sufficient. His spirits had been
greatly recovering lately as might be expected. As Louisa improved, he
had improved, and he was now quite a different creature from what he
had been the first week. He had not seen Louisa; and was so extremely
fearful of any ill consequence to her from an interview, that he did
not press for it at all; and, on the contrary, seemed to have a plan of
going away for a week or ten days, till her head was stronger. He had
talked of going down to Plymouth for a week, and wanted to persuade
Captain Benwick to go with him; but, as Charles maintained to the last,
Captain Benwick seemed much more disposed to ride over to Kellynch.
There can be no doubt that Lady Russell and Anne were both occasionally
thinking of Captain Benwick, from this time. Lady Russell could not
hear the door-bell without feeling that it might be his herald; nor
could Anne return from any stroll of solitary indulgence in her
father's grounds, or any visit of charity in the village, without
wondering whether she might see him or hear of him. Captain Benwick
came not, however. He was either less disposed for it than Charles had
imagined, or he was too shy; and after giving him a week's indulgence,
Lady Russell determined him to be unworthy of the interest which he had
been beginning to excite.
The Musgroves came back to receive their happy boys and girls from
school, bringing with them Mrs Harville's little children, to improve
the noise of Uppercross, and lessen that of Lyme. Henrietta remained
with Louisa; but all the rest of the family were again in their usual
quarters.
Lady Russell and Anne paid their compliments to them once, when Anne
could not but feel that Uppercross was already quite alive again.
Though neither Henrietta, nor Louisa, nor Charles Hayter, nor Captain
Wentworth were there, the room presented as strong a contrast as could
be wished to the last state she had seen it in.
Immediately surrounding Mrs Musgrove were the little Harvilles, whom
she was sedulously guarding from the tyranny of the two children from
the Cottage, expressly arrived to amuse them. On one side was a table
occupied by some chattering girls, cutting up silk and gold paper; and
on the other were tressels and trays, bending under the weight of brawn
and cold pies, where riotous boys were holding high revel; the whole
completed by a roaring Christmas fire, which seemed determined to be
heard, in spite of all the noise of the others. Charles and Mary also
came in, of course, during their visit, and Mr Musgrove made a point of
paying his respects to Lady Russell, and sat down close to her for ten
minutes, talking with a very raised voice, but from the clamour of the
children on his knees, generally in vain. It was a fine family-piece.
Anne, judging from her own temperament, would have deemed such a
domestic hurricane a bad restorative of the nerves, which Louisa's
illness must have so greatly shaken. But Mrs Musgrove, who got Anne
near her on purpose to thank her most cordially, again and again, for
all her attentions to them, concluded a short recapitulation of what
she had suffered herself by observing, with a happy glance round the
room, that after all she had gone through, nothing was so likely to do
her good as a little quiet cheerfulness at home.
Louisa was now recovering apace. Her mother could even think of her
being able to join their party at home, before her brothers and sisters
went to school again. The Harvilles had promised to come with her and
stay at Uppercross, whenever she returned. Captain Wentworth was gone,
for the present, to see his brother in Shropshire.
"I hope I shall remember, in future," said Lady Russell, as soon as
they were reseated in the carriage, "not to call at Uppercross in the
Christmas holidays."
Everybody has their taste in noises as well as in other matters; and
sounds are quite innoxious, or most distressing, by their sort rather
than their quantity. When Lady Russell not long afterwards, was
entering Bath on a wet afternoon, and driving through the long course
of streets from the Old Bridge to Camden Place, amidst the dash of
other carriages, the heavy rumble of carts and drays, the bawling of
newspapermen, muffin-men and milkmen, and the ceaseless clink of
pattens, she made no complaint. No, these were noises which belonged
to the winter pleasures; her spirits rose under their influence; and
like Mrs Musgrove, she was feeling, though not saying, that after being
long in the country, nothing could be so good for her as a little quiet
cheerfulness.
Anne did not share these feelings. She persisted in a very determined,
though very silent disinclination for Bath; caught the first dim view
of the extensive buildings, smoking in rain, without any wish of seeing
them better; felt their progress through the streets to be, however
disagreeable, yet too rapid; for who would be glad to see her when she
arrived? And looked back, with fond regret, to the bustles of
Uppercross and the seclusion of Kellynch.
Elizabeth's last letter had communicated a piece of news of some
interest. Mr Elliot was in Bath. He had called in Camden Place; had
called a second time, a third; had been pointedly attentive. If
Elizabeth and her father did not deceive themselves, had been taking
much pains to seek the acquaintance, and proclaim the value of the
connection, as he had formerly taken pains to shew neglect. This was
very wonderful if it were true; and Lady Russell was in a state of very
agreeable curiosity and perplexity about Mr Elliot, already recanting
the sentiment she had so lately expressed to Mary, of his being "a man
whom she had no wish to see." She had a great wish to see him. If he
really sought to reconcile himself like a dutiful branch, he must be
forgiven for having dismembered himself from the paternal tree.
Anne was not animated to an equal pitch by the circumstance, but she
felt that she would rather see Mr Elliot again than not, which was more
than she could say for many other persons in Bath.
She was put down in Camden Place; and Lady Russell then drove to her
own lodgings, in Rivers Street.
Chapter 15
Sir Walter had taken a very good house in Camden Place, a lofty
dignified situation, such as becomes a man of consequence; and both he
and Elizabeth were settled there, much to their satisfaction.
Anne entered it with a sinking heart, anticipating an imprisonment of
many months, and anxiously saying to herself, "Oh! when shall I leave
you again?" A degree of unexpected cordiality, however, in the welcome
she received, did her good. Her father and sister were glad to see
her, for the sake of shewing her the house and furniture, and met her
with kindness. Her making a fourth, when they sat down to dinner, was
noticed as an advantage.
Mrs Clay was very pleasant, and very smiling, but her courtesies and
smiles were more a matter of course. Anne had always felt that she
would pretend what was proper on her arrival, but the complaisance of
the others was unlooked for. They were evidently in excellent spirits,
and she was soon to listen to the causes. They had no inclination to
listen to her. After laying out for some compliments of being deeply
regretted in their old neighbourhood, which Anne could not pay, they
had only a few faint enquiries to make, before the talk must be all
their own. Uppercross excited no interest, Kellynch very little: it
was all Bath.
They had the pleasure of assuring her that Bath more than answered
their expectations in every respect. Their house was undoubtedly the
best in Camden Place; their drawing-rooms had many decided advantages
over all the others which they had either seen or heard of, and the
superiority was not less in the style of the fitting-up, or the taste
of the furniture. Their acquaintance was exceedingly sought after.
Everybody was wanting to visit them. They had drawn back from many
introductions, and still were perpetually having cards left by people
of whom they knew nothing.
Here were funds of enjoyment. Could Anne wonder that her father and
sister were happy? She might not wonder, but she must sigh that her
father should feel no degradation in his change, should see nothing to
regret in the duties and dignity of the resident landholder, should
find so much to be vain of in the littlenesses of a town; and she must
sigh, and smile, and wonder too, as Elizabeth threw open the
folding-doors and walked with exultation from one drawing-room to the
other, boasting of their space; at the possibility of that woman, who
had been mistress of Kellynch Hall, finding extent to be proud of
between two walls, perhaps thirty feet asunder.
But this was not all which they had to make them happy. They had Mr
Elliot too. Anne had a great deal to hear of Mr Elliot. He was not
only pardoned, they were delighted with him. He had been in Bath about
a fortnight; (he had passed through Bath in November, in his way to
London, when the intelligence of Sir Walter's being settled there had
of course reached him, though only twenty-four hours in the place, but
he had not been able to avail himself of it;) but he had now been a
fortnight in Bath, and his first object on arriving, had been to leave
his card in Camden Place, following it up by such assiduous endeavours
to meet, and when they did meet, by such great openness of conduct,
such readiness to apologize for the past, such solicitude to be
received as a relation again, that their former good understanding was
completely re-established.
They had not a fault to find in him. He had explained away all the
appearance of neglect on his own side. It had originated in
misapprehension entirely. He had never had an idea of throwing himself
off; he had feared that he was thrown off, but knew not why, and
delicacy had kept him silent. Upon the hint of having spoken
disrespectfully or carelessly of the family and the family honours, he
was quite indignant. He, who had ever boasted of being an Elliot, and
whose feelings, as to connection, were only too strict to suit the
unfeudal tone of the present day. He was astonished, indeed, but his
character and general conduct must refute it. He could refer Sir
Walter to all who knew him; and certainly, the pains he had been taking
on this, the first opportunity of reconciliation, to be restored to the
footing of a relation and heir-presumptive, was a strong proof of his
opinions on the subject.
The circumstances of his marriage, too, were found to admit of much
extenuation. This was an article not to be entered on by himself; but
a very intimate friend of his, a Colonel Wallis, a highly respectable
man, perfectly the gentleman, (and not an ill-looking man, Sir Walter
added), who was living in very good style in Marlborough Buildings, and
had, at his own particular request, been admitted to their acquaintance
through Mr Elliot, had mentioned one or two things relative to the
marriage, which made a material difference in the discredit of it.
Colonel Wallis had known Mr Elliot long, had been well acquainted also
with his wife, had perfectly understood the whole story. She was
certainly not a woman of family, but well educated, accomplished, rich,
and excessively in love with his friend. There had been the charm.
She had sought him. Without that attraction, not all her money would
have tempted Elliot, and Sir Walter was, moreover, assured of her
having been a very fine woman. Here was a great deal to soften the
business. A very fine woman with a large fortune, in love with him!
Sir Walter seemed to admit it as complete apology; and though Elizabeth
could not see the circumstance in quite so favourable a light, she
allowed it be a great extenuation.
Mr Elliot had called repeatedly, had dined with them once, evidently
delighted by the distinction of being asked, for they gave no dinners
in general; delighted, in short, by every proof of cousinly notice, and
placing his whole happiness in being on intimate terms in Camden Place.
Anne listened, but without quite understanding it. Allowances, large
allowances, she knew, must be made for the ideas of those who spoke.
She heard it all under embellishment. All that sounded extravagant or
irrational in the progress of the reconciliation might have no origin
but in the language of the relators. Still, however, she had the
sensation of there being something more than immediately appeared, in
Mr Elliot's wishing, after an interval of so many years, to be well
received by them. In a worldly view, he had nothing to gain by being
on terms with Sir Walter; nothing to risk by a state of variance. In
all probability he was already the richer of the two, and the Kellynch
estate would as surely be his hereafter as the title. A sensible man,
and he had looked like a very sensible man, why should it be an object
to him? She could only offer one solution; it was, perhaps, for
Elizabeth's sake. There might really have been a liking formerly,
though convenience and accident had drawn him a different way; and now
that he could afford to please himself, he might mean to pay his
addresses to her. Elizabeth was certainly very handsome, with
well-bred, elegant manners, and her character might never have been
penetrated by Mr Elliot, knowing her but in public, and when very young
himself. How her temper and understanding might bear the investigation
of his present keener time of life was another concern and rather a
fearful one. Most earnestly did she wish that he might not be too
nice, or too observant if Elizabeth were his object; and that Elizabeth
was disposed to believe herself so, and that her friend Mrs Clay was
encouraging the idea, seemed apparent by a glance or two between them,
while Mr Elliot's frequent visits were talked of.
Anne mentioned the glimpses she had had of him at Lyme, but without
being much attended to. "Oh! yes, perhaps, it had been Mr Elliot.
They did not know. It might be him, perhaps." They could not listen
to her description of him. They were describing him themselves; Sir
Walter especially. He did justice to his very gentlemanlike
appearance, his air of elegance and fashion, his good shaped face, his
sensible eye; but, at the same time, "must lament his being very much
under-hung, a defect which time seemed to have increased; nor could he
pretend to say that ten years had not altered almost every feature for
the worse. Mr Elliot appeared to think that he (Sir Walter) was
looking exactly as he had done when they last parted;" but Sir Walter
had "not been able to return the compliment entirely, which had
embarrassed him. He did not mean to complain, however. Mr Elliot was
better to look at than most men, and he had no objection to being seen
with him anywhere."
Mr Elliot, and his friends in Marlborough Buildings, were talked of the
whole evening. "Colonel Wallis had been so impatient to be introduced
to them! and Mr Elliot so anxious that he should!" and there was a Mrs
Wallis, at present known only to them by description, as she was in
daily expectation of her confinement; but Mr Elliot spoke of her as "a
most charming woman, quite worthy of being known in Camden Place," and
as soon as she recovered they were to be acquainted. Sir Walter
thought much of Mrs Wallis; she was said to be an excessively pretty
woman, beautiful. "He longed to see her. He hoped she might make some
amends for the many very plain faces he was continually passing in the
streets. The worst of Bath was the number of its plain women. He did
not mean to say that there were no pretty women, but the number of the
plain was out of all proportion. He had frequently observed, as he
walked, that one handsome face would be followed by thirty, or
five-and-thirty frights; and once, as he had stood in a shop on Bond
Street, he had counted eighty-seven women go by, one after another,
without there being a tolerable face among them. It had been a frosty
morning, to be sure, a sharp frost, which hardly one woman in a
thousand could stand the test of. But still, there certainly were a
dreadful multitude of ugly women in Bath; and as for the men! they
were infinitely worse. Such scarecrows as the streets were full of!
It was evident how little the women were used to the sight of anything
tolerable, by the effect which a man of decent appearance produced. He
had never walked anywhere arm-in-arm with Colonel Wallis (who was a
fine military figure, though sandy-haired) without observing that every
woman's eye was upon him; every woman's eye was sure to be upon Colonel
Wallis." Modest Sir Walter! He was not allowed to escape, however.
His daughter and Mrs Clay united in hinting that Colonel Wallis's
companion might have as good a figure as Colonel Wallis, and certainly
was not sandy-haired.
"How is Mary looking?" said Sir Walter, in the height of his good
humour. "The last time I saw her she had a red nose, but I hope that
may not happen every day."
"Oh! no, that must have been quite accidental. In general she has been
in very good health and very good looks since Michaelmas."
"If I thought it would not tempt her to go out in sharp winds, and grow
coarse, I would send her a new hat and pelisse."
Anne was considering whether she should venture to suggest that a gown,
or a cap, would not be liable to any such misuse, when a knock at the
door suspended everything. "A knock at the door! and so late! It was
ten o'clock. Could it be Mr Elliot? They knew he was to dine in
Lansdown Crescent. It was possible that he might stop in his way home
to ask them how they did. They could think of no one else. Mrs Clay
decidedly thought it Mr Elliot's knock." Mrs Clay was right. With all
the state which a butler and foot-boy could give, Mr Elliot was ushered
into the room.
It was the same, the very same man, with no difference but of dress.
Anne drew a little back, while the others received his compliments, and
her sister his apologies for calling at so unusual an hour, but "he
could not be so near without wishing to know that neither she nor her
friend had taken cold the day before," &c. &c; which was all as
politely done, and as politely taken, as possible, but her part must
follow then. Sir Walter talked of his youngest daughter; "Mr Elliot
must give him leave to present him to his youngest daughter" (there was
no occasion for remembering Mary); and Anne, smiling and blushing, very
becomingly shewed to Mr Elliot the pretty features which he had by no
means forgotten, and instantly saw, with amusement at his little start
of surprise, that he had not been at all aware of who she was. He
looked completely astonished, but not more astonished than pleased; his
eyes brightened! and with the most perfect alacrity he welcomed the
relationship, alluded to the past, and entreated to be received as an
acquaintance already. He was quite as good-looking as he had appeared
at Lyme, his countenance improved by speaking, and his manners were so
exactly what they ought to be, so polished, so easy, so particularly
agreeable, that she could compare them in excellence to only one
person's manners. They were not the same, but they were, perhaps,
equally good.
He sat down with them, and improved their conversation very much.
There could be no doubt of his being a sensible man. Ten minutes were
enough to certify that. His tone, his expressions, his choice of
subject, his knowing where to stop; it was all the operation of a
sensible, discerning mind. As soon as he could, he began to talk to
her of Lyme, wanting to compare opinions respecting the place, but
especially wanting to speak of the circumstance of their happening to
be guests in the same inn at the same time; to give his own route,
understand something of hers, and regret that he should have lost such
an opportunity of paying his respects to her. She gave him a short
account of her party and business at Lyme. His regret increased as he
listened. He had spent his whole solitary evening in the room
adjoining theirs; had heard voices, mirth continually; thought they
must be a most delightful set of people, longed to be with them, but
certainly without the smallest suspicion of his possessing the shadow
of a right to introduce himself. If he had but asked who the party
were! The name of Musgrove would have told him enough. "Well, it
would serve to cure him of an absurd practice of never asking a
question at an inn, which he had adopted, when quite a young man, on
the principal of its being very ungenteel to be curious.
"The notions of a young man of one or two and twenty," said he, "as to
what is necessary in manners to make him quite the thing, are more
absurd, I believe, than those of any other set of beings in the world.
The folly of the means they often employ is only to be equalled by the
folly of what they have in view."
But he must not be addressing his reflections to Anne alone: he knew
it; he was soon diffused again among the others, and it was only at
intervals that he could return to Lyme.
His enquiries, however, produced at length an account of the scene she
had been engaged in there, soon after his leaving the place. Having
alluded to "an accident," he must hear the whole. When he questioned,
Sir Walter and Elizabeth began to question also, but the difference in
their manner of doing it could not be unfelt. She could only compare
Mr Elliot to Lady Russell, in the wish of really comprehending what had
passed, and in the degree of concern for what she must have suffered in
witnessing it.
He staid an hour with them. The elegant little clock on the mantel-piece
had struck "eleven with its silver sounds," and the watchman was
beginning to be heard at a distance telling the same tale, before Mr
Elliot or any of them seemed to feel that he had been there long.
Anne could not have supposed it possible that her first evening in
Camden Place could have passed so well!
Chapter 16
There was one point which Anne, on returning to her family, would have
been more thankful to ascertain even than Mr Elliot's being in love
with Elizabeth, which was, her father's not being in love with Mrs
Clay; and she was very far from easy about it, when she had been at
home a few hours. On going down to breakfast the next morning, she
found there had just been a decent pretence on the lady's side of
meaning to leave them. She could imagine Mrs Clay to have said, that
"now Miss Anne was come, she could not suppose herself at all wanted;"
for Elizabeth was replying in a sort of whisper, "That must not be any
reason, indeed. I assure you I feel it none. She is nothing to me,
compared with you;" and she was in full time to hear her father say,
"My dear madam, this must not be. As yet, you have seen nothing of
Bath. You have been here only to be useful. You must not run away
from us now. You must stay to be acquainted with Mrs Wallis, the
beautiful Mrs Wallis. To your fine mind, I well know the sight of
beauty is a real gratification."
He spoke and looked so much in earnest, that Anne was not surprised to
see Mrs Clay stealing a glance at Elizabeth and herself. Her
countenance, perhaps, might express some watchfulness; but the praise
of the fine mind did not appear to excite a thought in her sister. The
lady could not but yield to such joint entreaties, and promise to stay.
In the course of the same morning, Anne and her father chancing to be
alone together, he began to compliment her on her improved looks; he
thought her "less thin in her person, in her cheeks; her skin, her
complexion, greatly improved; clearer, fresher. Had she been using any
thing in particular?" "No, nothing." "Merely Gowland," he supposed.
"No, nothing at all." "Ha! he was surprised at that;" and added,
"certainly you cannot do better than to continue as you are; you cannot
be better than well; or I should recommend Gowland, the constant use of
Gowland, during the spring months. Mrs Clay has been using it at my
recommendation, and you see what it has done for her. You see how it
has carried away her freckles."
If Elizabeth could but have heard this! Such personal praise might
have struck her, especially as it did not appear to Anne that the
freckles were at all lessened. But everything must take its chance.
The evil of a marriage would be much diminished, if Elizabeth were also
to marry. As for herself, she might always command a home with Lady
Russell.
Lady Russell's composed mind and polite manners were put to some trial
on this point, in her intercourse in Camden Place. The sight of Mrs
Clay in such favour, and of Anne so overlooked, was a perpetual
provocation to her there; and vexed her as much when she was away, as a
person in Bath who drinks the water, gets all the new publications, and
has a very large acquaintance, has time to be vexed.
As Mr Elliot became known to her, she grew more charitable, or more
indifferent, towards the others. His manners were an immediate
recommendation; and on conversing with him she found the solid so fully
supporting the superficial, that she was at first, as she told Anne,
almost ready to exclaim, "Can this be Mr Elliot?" and could not
seriously picture to herself a more agreeable or estimable man.
Everything united in him; good understanding, correct opinions,
knowledge of the world, and a warm heart. He had strong feelings of
family attachment and family honour, without pride or weakness; he
lived with the liberality of a man of fortune, without display; he
judged for himself in everything essential, without defying public
opinion in any point of worldly decorum. He was steady, observant,
moderate, candid; never run away with by spirits or by selfishness,
which fancied itself strong feeling; and yet, with a sensibility to
what was amiable and lovely, and a value for all the felicities of
domestic life, which characters of fancied enthusiasm and violent
agitation seldom really possess. She was sure that he had not been
happy in marriage. Colonel Wallis said it, and Lady Russell saw it;
but it had been no unhappiness to sour his mind, nor (she began pretty
soon to suspect) to prevent his thinking of a second choice. Her
satisfaction in Mr Elliot outweighed all the plague of Mrs Clay.
It was now some years since Anne had begun to learn that she and her
excellent friend could sometimes think differently; and it did not
surprise her, therefore, that Lady Russell should see nothing
suspicious or inconsistent, nothing to require more motives than
appeared, in Mr Elliot's great desire of a reconciliation. In Lady
Russell's view, it was perfectly natural that Mr Elliot, at a mature
time of life, should feel it a most desirable object, and what would
very generally recommend him among all sensible people, to be on good
terms with the head of his family; the simplest process in the world of
time upon a head naturally clear, and only erring in the heyday of
youth. Anne presumed, however, still to smile about it, and at last to
mention "Elizabeth." Lady Russell listened, and looked, and made only
this cautious reply:--"Elizabeth! very well; time will explain."
It was a reference to the future, which Anne, after a little
observation, felt she must submit to. She could determine nothing at
present. In that house Elizabeth must be first; and she was in the
habit of such general observance as "Miss Elliot," that any
particularity of attention seemed almost impossible. Mr Elliot, too,
it must be remembered, had not been a widower seven months. A little
delay on his side might be very excusable. In fact, Anne could never
see the crape round his hat, without fearing that she was the
inexcusable one, in attributing to him such imaginations; for though
his marriage had not been very happy, still it had existed so many
years that she could not comprehend a very rapid recovery from the
awful impression of its being dissolved.
However it might end, he was without any question their pleasantest
acquaintance in Bath: she saw nobody equal to him; and it was a great
indulgence now and then to talk to him about Lyme, which he seemed to
have as lively a wish to see again, and to see more of, as herself.
They went through the particulars of their first meeting a great many
times. He gave her to understand that he had looked at her with some
earnestness. She knew it well; and she remembered another person's
look also.
They did not always think alike. His value for rank and connexion she
perceived was greater than hers. It was not merely complaisance, it
must be a liking to the cause, which made him enter warmly into her
father and sister's solicitudes on a subject which she thought unworthy
to excite them. The Bath paper one morning announced the arrival of
the Dowager Viscountess Dalrymple, and her daughter, the Honourable
Miss Carteret; and all the comfort of No. --, Camden Place, was swept
away for many days; for the Dalrymples (in Anne's opinion, most
unfortunately) were cousins of the Elliots; and the agony was how to
introduce themselves properly.
Anne had never seen her father and sister before in contact with
nobility, and she must acknowledge herself disappointed. She had hoped
better things from their high ideas of their own situation in life, and
was reduced to form a wish which she had never foreseen; a wish that
they had more pride; for "our cousins Lady Dalrymple and Miss
Carteret;" "our cousins, the Dalrymples," sounded in her ears all day
long.
Sir Walter had once been in company with the late viscount, but had
never seen any of the rest of the family; and the difficulties of the
case arose from there having been a suspension of all intercourse by
letters of ceremony, ever since the death of that said late viscount,
when, in consequence of a dangerous illness of Sir Walter's at the same
time, there had been an unlucky omission at Kellynch. No letter of
condolence had been sent to Ireland. The neglect had been visited on
the head of the sinner; for when poor Lady Elliot died herself, no
letter of condolence was received at Kellynch, and, consequently, there
was but too much reason to apprehend that the Dalrymples considered the
relationship as closed. How to have this anxious business set to
rights, and be admitted as cousins again, was the question: and it was
a question which, in a more rational manner, neither Lady Russell nor
Mr Elliot thought unimportant. "Family connexions were always worth
preserving, good company always worth seeking; Lady Dalrymple had taken
a house, for three months, in Laura Place, and would be living in
style. She had been at Bath the year before, and Lady Russell had
heard her spoken of as a charming woman. It was very desirable that
the connexion should be renewed, if it could be done, without any
compromise of propriety on the side of the Elliots."
Sir Walter, however, would choose his own means, and at last wrote a
very fine letter of ample explanation, regret, and entreaty, to his
right honourable cousin. Neither Lady Russell nor Mr Elliot could
admire the letter; but it did all that was wanted, in bringing three
lines of scrawl from the Dowager Viscountess. "She was very much
honoured, and should be happy in their acquaintance." The toils of the
business were over, the sweets began. They visited in Laura Place,
they had the cards of Dowager Viscountess Dalrymple, and the Honourable
Miss Carteret, to be arranged wherever they might be most visible: and
"Our cousins in Laura Place,"--"Our cousin, Lady Dalrymple and Miss
Carteret," were talked of to everybody.
Anne was ashamed. Had Lady Dalrymple and her daughter even been very
agreeable, she would still have been ashamed of the agitation they
created, but they were nothing. There was no superiority of manner,
accomplishment, or understanding. Lady Dalrymple had acquired the name
of "a charming woman," because she had a smile and a civil answer for
everybody. Miss Carteret, with still less to say, was so plain and so
awkward, that she would never have been tolerated in Camden Place but
for her birth.
Lady Russell confessed she had expected something better; but yet "it
was an acquaintance worth having;" and when Anne ventured to speak her
opinion of them to Mr Elliot, he agreed to their being nothing in
themselves, but still maintained that, as a family connexion, as good
company, as those who would collect good company around them, they had
their value. Anne smiled and said,
"My idea of good company, Mr Elliot, is the company of clever,
well-informed people, who have a great deal of conversation; that is
what I call good company."
"You are mistaken," said he gently, "that is not good company; that is
the best. Good company requires only birth, education, and manners,
and with regard to education is not very nice. Birth and good manners
are essential; but a little learning is by no means a dangerous thing
in good company; on the contrary, it will do very well. My cousin Anne
shakes her head. She is not satisfied. She is fastidious. My dear
cousin" (sitting down by her), "you have a better right to be
fastidious than almost any other woman I know; but will it answer?
Will it make you happy? Will it not be wiser to accept the society of
those good ladies in Laura Place, and enjoy all the advantages of the
connexion as far as possible? You may depend upon it, that they will
move in the first set in Bath this winter, and as rank is rank, your
being known to be related to them will have its use in fixing your
family (our family let me say) in that degree of consideration which we
must all wish for."
"Yes," sighed Anne, "we shall, indeed, be known to be related to them!"
then recollecting herself, and not wishing to be answered, she added,
"I certainly do think there has been by far too much trouble taken to
procure the acquaintance. I suppose" (smiling) "I have more pride than
any of you; but I confess it does vex me, that we should be so
solicitous to have the relationship acknowledged, which we may be very
sure is a matter of perfect indifference to them."
"Pardon me, dear cousin, you are unjust in your own claims. In London,
perhaps, in your present quiet style of living, it might be as you say:
but in Bath; Sir Walter Elliot and his family will always be worth
knowing: always acceptable as acquaintance."
"Well," said Anne, "I certainly am proud, too proud to enjoy a welcome
which depends so entirely upon place."
"I love your indignation," said he; "it is very natural. But here you
are in Bath, and the object is to be established here with all the
credit and dignity which ought to belong to Sir Walter Elliot. You
talk of being proud; I am called proud, I know, and I shall not wish to
believe myself otherwise; for our pride, if investigated, would have
the same object, I have no doubt, though the kind may seem a little
different. In one point, I am sure, my dear cousin," (he continued,
speaking lower, though there was no one else in the room) "in one
point, I am sure, we must feel alike. We must feel that every addition
to your father's society, among his equals or superiors, may be of use
in diverting his thoughts from those who are beneath him."
He looked, as he spoke, to the seat which Mrs Clay had been lately
occupying: a sufficient explanation of what he particularly meant; and
though Anne could not believe in their having the same sort of pride,
she was pleased with him for not liking Mrs Clay; and her conscience
admitted that his wishing to promote her father's getting great
acquaintance was more than excusable in the view of defeating her.
Chapter 17
While Sir Walter and Elizabeth were assiduously pushing their good
fortune in Laura Place, Anne was renewing an acquaintance of a very
different description.
She had called on her former governess, and had heard from her of there
being an old school-fellow in Bath, who had the two strong claims on
her attention of past kindness and present suffering. Miss Hamilton,
now Mrs Smith, had shewn her kindness in one of those periods of her
life when it had been most valuable. Anne had gone unhappy to school,
grieving for the loss of a mother whom she had dearly loved, feeling
her separation from home, and suffering as a girl of fourteen, of
strong sensibility and not high spirits, must suffer at such a time;
and Miss Hamilton, three years older than herself, but still from the
want of near relations and a settled home, remaining another year at
school, had been useful and good to her in a way which had considerably
lessened her misery, and could never be remembered with indifference.
Miss Hamilton had left school, had married not long afterwards, was
said to have married a man of fortune, and this was all that Anne had
known of her, till now that their governess's account brought her
situation forward in a more decided but very different form.
She was a widow and poor. Her husband had been extravagant; and at his
death, about two years before, had left his affairs dreadfully
involved. She had had difficulties of every sort to contend with, and
in addition to these distresses had been afflicted with a severe
rheumatic fever, which, finally settling in her legs, had made her for
the present a cripple. She had come to Bath on that account, and was
now in lodgings near the hot baths, living in a very humble way, unable
even to afford herself the comfort of a servant, and of course almost
excluded from society.
Their mutual friend answered for the satisfaction which a visit from
Miss Elliot would give Mrs Smith, and Anne therefore lost no time in
going. She mentioned nothing of what she had heard, or what she
intended, at home. It would excite no proper interest there. She only
consulted Lady Russell, who entered thoroughly into her sentiments, and
was most happy to convey her as near to Mrs Smith's lodgings in
Westgate Buildings, as Anne chose to be taken.
The visit was paid, their acquaintance re-established, their interest
in each other more than re-kindled. The first ten minutes had its
awkwardness and its emotion. Twelve years were gone since they had
parted, and each presented a somewhat different person from what the
other had imagined. Twelve years had changed Anne from the blooming,
silent, unformed girl of fifteen, to the elegant little woman of
seven-and-twenty, with every beauty except bloom, and with manners as
consciously right as they were invariably gentle; and twelve years had
transformed the fine-looking, well-grown Miss Hamilton, in all the glow
of health and confidence of superiority, into a poor, infirm, helpless
widow, receiving the visit of her former protegee as a favour; but all
that was uncomfortable in the meeting had soon passed away, and left
only the interesting charm of remembering former partialities and
talking over old times.
Anne found in Mrs Smith the good sense and agreeable manners which she
had almost ventured to depend on, and a disposition to converse and be
cheerful beyond her expectation. Neither the dissipations of the
past--and she had lived very much in the world--nor the restrictions of
the present, neither sickness nor sorrow seemed to have closed her
heart or ruined her spirits.
In the course of a second visit she talked with great openness, and
Anne's astonishment increased. She could scarcely imagine a more
cheerless situation in itself than Mrs Smith's. She had been very fond
of her husband: she had buried him. She had been used to affluence:
it was gone. She had no child to connect her with life and happiness
again, no relations to assist in the arrangement of perplexed affairs,
no health to make all the rest supportable. Her accommodations were
limited to a noisy parlour, and a dark bedroom behind, with no
possibility of moving from one to the other without assistance, which
there was only one servant in the house to afford, and she never
quitted the house but to be conveyed into the warm bath. Yet, in spite
of all this, Anne had reason to believe that she had moments only of
languor and depression, to hours of occupation and enjoyment. How
could it be? She watched, observed, reflected, and finally determined
that this was not a case of fortitude or of resignation only. A
submissive spirit might be patient, a strong understanding would supply
resolution, but here was something more; here was that elasticity of
mind, that disposition to be comforted, that power of turning readily
from evil to good, and of finding employment which carried her out of
herself, which was from nature alone. It was the choicest gift of
Heaven; and Anne viewed her friend as one of those instances in which,
by a merciful appointment, it seems designed to counterbalance almost
every other want.
There had been a time, Mrs Smith told her, when her spirits had nearly
failed. She could not call herself an invalid now, compared with her
state on first reaching Bath. Then she had, indeed, been a pitiable
object; for she had caught cold on the journey, and had hardly taken
possession of her lodgings before she was again confined to her bed and
suffering under severe and constant pain; and all this among strangers,
with the absolute necessity of having a regular nurse, and finances at
that moment particularly unfit to meet any extraordinary expense. She
had weathered it, however, and could truly say that it had done her
good. It had increased her comforts by making her feel herself to be
in good hands. She had seen too much of the world, to expect sudden or
disinterested attachment anywhere, but her illness had proved to her
that her landlady had a character to preserve, and would not use her
ill; and she had been particularly fortunate in her nurse, as a sister
of her landlady, a nurse by profession, and who had always a home in
that house when unemployed, chanced to be at liberty just in time to
attend her. "And she," said Mrs Smith, "besides nursing me most
admirably, has really proved an invaluable acquaintance. As soon as I
could use my hands she taught me to knit, which has been a great
amusement; and she put me in the way of making these little
thread-cases, pin-cushions and card-racks, which you always find me so
busy about, and which supply me with the means of doing a little good
to one or two very poor families in this neighbourhood. She had a
large acquaintance, of course professionally, among those who can
afford to buy, and she disposes of my merchandise. She always takes
the right time for applying. Everybody's heart is open, you know, when
they have recently escaped from severe pain, or are recovering the
blessing of health, and Nurse Rooke thoroughly understands when to
speak. She is a shrewd, intelligent, sensible woman. Hers is a line
for seeing human nature; and she has a fund of good sense and
observation, which, as a companion, make her infinitely superior to
thousands of those who having only received 'the best education in the
world,' know nothing worth attending to. Call it gossip, if you will,
but when Nurse Rooke has half an hour's leisure to bestow on me, she is
sure to have something to relate that is entertaining and profitable:
something that makes one know one's species better. One likes to hear
what is going on, to be au fait as to the newest modes of being
trifling and silly. To me, who live so much alone, her conversation, I
assure you, is a treat."
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