by Jane Austen
She had yet another reason for wishing her children to remain where they were; a letter from her son-in-law9 had told her that he and his wife were to be in town before the middle of February,10 and she judged it right that they should sometimes see their brother.
Marianne had promised to be guided by her mother’s opinion, and she submitted to it therefore without opposition, though it proved perfectly different from what she wished and expected, though she felt it to be entirely wrong, formed on mistaken grounds, and that by requiring her longer continuance in London it deprived her of the only possible alleviation of her wretchedness, the personal sympathy of her mother, and doomed her to such society and such scenes11 as must prevent her ever knowing a moment’s rest.
But it was a matter of great consolation to her, that what brought evil12 to herself would bring good to her sister; and Elinor, on the other hand, suspecting that it would not be in her power to avoid Edward entirely, comforted herself by thinking, that though their longer stay would therefore militate against her own happiness, it would be better for Marianne than an immediate return into Devonshire.
Her carefulness in guarding her sister from ever hearing Willoughby’s name mentioned, was not thrown away. Marianne, though without knowing it herself, reaped all its advantage; for neither Mrs. Jennings, nor Sir John, nor even Mrs. Palmer herself, ever spoke of him before her. Elinor wished that the same forbearance could have extended towards herself, but that was impossible, and she was obliged to listen day after day to the indignation of them all.
Sir John could not have thought it possible. “A man of whom he had always had such reason to think well! Such a good-natured fellow! He did not believe there was a bolder rider in England!13 It was an unaccountable business. He wished him at the devil with all his heart. He would not speak another word to him, meet him where he might, for all the world! No, not if it were to be by the side of Barton covert, and they were kept waiting for two hours together.14 Such a scoundrel of a fellow! such a deceitful dog! It was only the last time they met that he had offered him one of Folly’s puppies!15 and this was the end of it!”
Mrs. Palmer, in her way, was equally angry. “She was determined to drop his acquaintance immediately, and she was very thankful that she had never been acquainted with him at all. She wished with all her heart Combe Magna was not so near Cleveland; but it did not signify, for it was a great deal too far off to visit; she hated him so much that she was resolved never to mention his name again, and she should tell everybody she saw, how good-for-nothing he was.”
The rest of Mrs. Palmer’s sympathy was shewn in procuring all the particulars in her power of the approaching marriage, and communicating them to Elinor. She could soon tell at what coachmaker’s the new carriage was building,16 by what painter Mr. Willoughby’s portrait was drawn,17 and at what warehouse Miss Grey’s clothes might be seen.18
The calm and polite unconcern of Lady Middleton on the occasion was an happy relief to Elinor’s spirits, oppressed as they often were by the clamorous kindness of the others. It was a great comfort to her, to be sure of exciting no interest in one person at least among their circle of friends; a great comfort to know that there was one who would meet her without feeling any curiosity after particulars, or any anxiety for her sister’s health.
Every qualification is raised at times, by the circumstances of the moment, to more than its real value; and she was sometimes worried down by officious condolence to rate good-breeding as more indispensable to comfort than good-nature.19
Lady Middleton expressed her sense of the affair about once every day, or twice, if the subject occurred very often, by saying, “It is very shocking indeed!” and by the means of this continual though gentle vent, was able not only to see the Miss Dashwoods from the first without the smallest emotion, but very soon to see them without recollecting a word of the matter;20 and having thus supported the dignity of her own sex,21 and spoken her decided censure of what was wrong in the other, she thought herself at liberty to attend to the interest of her own assemblies,22 and therefore determined (though rather against the opinion of Sir John) that as Mrs. Willoughby would at once be a woman of elegance and fortune, to leave her card with her as soon as she married.23
Colonel Brandon’s delicate unobtrusive inquiries were never unwelcome to Miss Dashwood. He had abundantly earned the privilege of intimate discussion of her sister’s disappointment, by the friendly zeal with which he had endeavoured to soften it, and they always conversed with confidence. His chief reward for the painful exertion of disclosing past sorrows and present humiliations, was given in the pitying eye with which Marianne sometimes observed him, and the gentleness of her voice whenever (though it did not often happen) she was obliged, or could oblige herself to speak to him.24 These assured him that his exertion had produced an increase of good-will towards himself, and these gave Elinor hopes of its being farther augmented hereafter; but Mrs. Jennings, who knew nothing of all this, who knew only that the Colonel continued as grave as ever, and that she could neither prevail on him to make the offer himself, nor commission her to make it for him, began, at the end of two days, to think that, instead of Midsummer, they would not be married till Michaelmas,25 and by the end of a week that it would not be a match at all. The good understanding between the Colonel and Miss Dashwood seemed rather to declare that the honours of the mulberry-tree, the canal, and the yew arbour,26 would all be made over27 to her; and Mrs. Jennings had for some time ceased to think at all of Mr. Ferrars.28
Early in February, within a fortnight from the receipt of Willoughby’s letter, Elinor had the painful office of informing her sister that he was married. She had taken care to have the intelligence conveyed to herself, as soon as it was known that the ceremony was over, as she was desirous that Marianne should not receive the first notice of it from the public papers, which she saw her eagerly examining every morning.29
She received the news with resolute composure; made no observation on it, and at first shed no tears; but after a short time they would burst out, and for the rest of the day, she was in a state hardly less pitiable than when she first learnt to expect the event.
The Willoughbys left town as soon as they were married; and Elinor now hoped, as there could be no danger of her seeing either of them, to prevail on her sister, who had never yet left the house since the blow first fell, to go out again by degrees as she had done before.30
About this time, the two Miss Steeles, lately arrived at their cousin’s house in Bartlett’s Buildings, Holborn,31 presented themselves again before their more grand relations in Conduit and Berkeley-street;32 and were welcomed by them all with great cordiality.
Elinor only was sorry to see them. Their presence always gave her pain, and she hardly knew how to make a very gracious return to the overpowering delight of Lucy in finding her still in town.
“I should33 have been quite disappointed if I had not found you here still,” said she repeatedly, with a strong emphasis on the word. “But I always thought I should. I was almost sure you would not leave London yet awhile; though you told me, you know, at Barton, that you should not stay above a month.34 But I thought, at the time, that you would most likely change your mind when it came to the point. It would have been such a great pity to have went away before your brother and sister came. And now to be sure you will be in no hurry to be gone. I am amazingly35 glad you did not keep to your word.”36
Elinor perfectly understood her, and was forced to use all her self-command to make it appear that she did not.37
“Well, my dear,” said Mrs. Jennings, “and how did you travel?”
“Not in the stage, I assure you,” replied Miss Steele, with quick exultation; “we came post all the way,38 and had a very smart beau to attend us. Dr. Davies was coming to town, and so we thought we’d join him in a post-chaise,39 and he behaved very genteelly, and paid ten or twelve shillings more than we did.”40
“Oh, oh!” cried Mrs. Jennings; “very pretty, indeed! and
the Doctor is a single man, I warrant you.”
“There now,” said Miss Steele, affectedly simpering, “everybody laughs at me so about the Doctor, and I cannot think why. My cousins say they are sure I have made a conquest; but for my part I declare I never think about him from one hour’s end to another. ‘Lord! here comes your beau, Nancy,’ my cousin said t’other day, when she saw him crossing the street to the house. My beau, indeed! said I—I cannot think who you mean. The Doctor is no beau of mine.”
“Aye, aye, that is very pretty talking—but it won’t do—the Doctor is the man, I see.”41
“No, indeed!” replied her cousin, with affected earnestness, “and I beg you will contradict it, if you ever hear it talked of.”
Mrs. Jennings directly gave her the gratifying assurance that she certainly would not, and Miss Steele was made completely happy.
“I suppose you will go and stay with your brother and sister, Miss Dashwood, when they come to town,” said Lucy, returning, after a cessation of hostile hints, to the charge.42
“No, I do not think we shall.”
“Oh, yes, I dare say you will.”
Elinor would not humour her by farther opposition.
“What a charming thing it is that Mrs. Dashwood can spare you both for so long a time together!”
“Long a time, indeed!” interposed Mrs. Jennings. “Why, their visit is but just begun!”
Lucy was silenced.43
“I am sorry we cannot see your sister, Miss Dashwood,” said Miss Steele. “I am sorry she is not well;” for Marianne had left the room on their arrival.
“You are very good. My sister will be equally sorry to miss the pleasure of seeing you;44 but she has been very much plagued lately with nervous head-aches,45 which make her unfit for company or conversation.”
“Oh, dear, that is a great pity! but such old friends as Lucy and me!—I think she might see us; and I am sure we would not speak a word.”
Elinor, with great civility, declined the proposal. Her sister was perhaps laid down upon the bed, or in her dressing gown,46 and therefore not able to come to them.
“Oh, if that’s all,” cried Miss Steele, “we can just as well go and see her.”
Elinor began to find this impertinence47 too much for her temper; but she was saved the trouble of checking it, by Lucy’s sharp reprimand, which now, as on many occasions, though it did not give much sweetness to the manners of one sister, was of advantage in governing those of the other.
Bartlett’s Buildings in London, where the Miss Steeles stay with their cousins. Its houses were less grand than those in Mayfair locations such as Hanover Square and Grosvenor Square (see pictures on this page and this page). The clothing in this picture is from a few decades later.
[From E. Beresford Chancellor, The XVIIIth Century in London (New York, 1921), p. 258]
[List of Illustrations]
A fashionable young man, such as Elinor is about to observe.
[From The Repository of arts, literature, fashions, manufactures, &c, Vol. III (1810), p. 262]
[List of Illustrations]
Chapter Eleven
After some opposition, Marianne yielded to her sister’s entreaties, and consented to go out with her and Mrs. Jennings one morning for half an hour. She expressly conditioned, however, for paying no visits, and would do no more than accompany them to Gray’s in Sackville-street,1 where Elinor was carrying on a negociation for the exchange of a few old-fashioned jewels of her mother.2
When they stopped at the door, Mrs. Jennings recollected that there was a lady at the other end of the street, on whom she ought to call; and as she had no business at Gray’s, it was resolved, that while her young friends transacted their’s, she should pay her visit and return for them.
On ascending the stairs, the Miss Dashwoods found so many people before them in the room, that there was not a person at liberty to attend to their orders; and they were obliged to wait.3 All that could be done was, to sit down at that end of the counter which seemed to promise the quickest succession;4 one gentleman only was standing there, and it is probable that Elinor was not without hope of exciting his politeness to a quicker dispatch. But the correctness5 of his eye, and the delicacy of his taste, proved to be beyond6 his politeness. He was giving orders for a toothpick-case7 for himself, and till its size, shape, and ornaments were determined, all of which, after examining and debating for a quarter of an hour over every toothpick-case in the shop, were finally arranged by his own inventive fancy,8 he had no leisure to bestow any other attention on the two ladies, than what was comprised in three or four very broad stares; a kind of notice which served to imprint on Elinor the remembrance of a person and face, of strong, natural, sterling insignificance, though adorned in the first style of fashion.9
Marianne was spared from the troublesome feelings of contempt and resentment, on this impertinent examination of their features, and on the puppyism10 of his manner in deciding on all the different horrors of the different toothpick-cases presented to his inspection, by remaining unconscious of it all; for she was as well able to collect her thoughts within herself, and be as ignorant of what was passing around her, in Mr. Gray’s shop, as in her own bed-room.11
At last the affair was decided. The ivory, the gold, and the pearls, all received their appointment,12 and the gentleman having named the last day on which his existence could be continued without the possession of the toothpick-case, drew on his gloves with leisurely care,13 and bestowing another glance on the Miss Dashwoods, but such a one as seemed rather to demand than express admiration, walked off with an happy air of real conceit and affected indifference.14
Elinor lost no time in bringing her business forward, and was on the point of concluding it, when another gentleman presented himself at her side. She turned her eyes towards his face, and found him with some surprise to be her brother.
Their affection and pleasure in meeting, was just enough to make a very creditable appearance in Mr. Gray’s shop. John Dashwood was really far from being sorry to see his sisters again; it rather gave them satisfaction; and his inquiries after their mother were respectful and attentive.
Elinor found that he and Fanny had been in town two days.
“I wished very much to call upon you yesterday,” said he, “but it was impossible, for we were obliged to take Harry to see the wild beasts at Exeter Exchange:15 and we spent the rest of the day with Mrs. Ferrars.16 Harry was vastly pleased. This morning I had fully intended to call on you, if I could possibly find a spare half hour, but one has always so much to do on first coming to town. I am come here to bespeak17 Fanny a seal.18 But to-morrow I think I shall certainly be able to call in Berkeley-street, and be introduced to your friend Mrs. Jennings. I understand she is a woman of very good fortune.19 And the Middletons too, you must introduce me to them. As my mother-in-law’s20 relations, I shall be happy to shew them every respect. They are excellent neighbours to you in the country, I understand.”
“Excellent indeed. Their attention to our comfort, their friendliness in every particular, is more than I can express.”
“I am extremely glad to hear it, upon my word; extremely glad indeed. But so it ought to be; they are people of large fortune, they are related to you, and every civility, and accommodation that can serve to make your situation pleasant, might be reasonably expected.21 And so you are most comfortably settled in your little cottage and want for nothing! Edward brought us a most charming account of the place; the most complete thing of its kind, he said, that ever was, and you all seemed to enjoy it beyond any thing. It was a great satisfaction to us to hear it, I assure you.”
Elinor did feel a little ashamed of her brother;22 and was not sorry to be spared the necessity of answering him, by the arrival of Mrs. Jennings’s servant, who came to tell her that his mistress waited for them at the door.
Mr. Dashwood attended them down stairs, was introduced to Mrs. Jennings at the door of her carriage, and repeating his hope of being able to
call on them the next day, took leave.
His visit was duly paid. He came with a pretence at an apology from their sister-in-law, for not coming too; “but she was so much engaged with her mother, that really she had no leisure for going any where.”23 Mrs. Jennings, however, assured him directly, that she should not stand upon ceremony, for they were all cousins, or something like it, and she should certainly wait on24 Mrs. John Dashwood very soon, and bring her sisters to see her. His manners to them, though calm, were perfectly kind;25 to Mrs. Jennings most attentively civil; and on Colonel Brandon’s coming in soon after himself, he eyed him with a curiosity which seemed to say, that he only wanted to know him to be rich, to be equally civil to him.
After staying with them half an hour, he asked Elinor to walk with him to Conduit-street, and introduce him to Sir John and Lady Middleton. The weather was remarkably fine, and she readily consented. As soon as they were out of the house, his enquiries began.
“Who is Colonel Brandon? Is he a man of fortune?”
“Yes; he has very good property in Dorsetshire.”
“I am glad of it. He seems a most gentlemanlike man; and I think, Elinor, I may congratulate you on the prospect of a very respectable establishment26 in life.”
“Me, brother! what do you mean?”
“He likes you. I observed him narrowly,27 and am convinced of it.28 What is the amount of his fortune?”
“I believe about two thousand a-year.”
“Two thousand a-year;” and then working himself up to a pitch of enthusiastic generosity, he added, “Elinor, I wish, with all my heart, it were twice as much, for your sake.”
“Indeed I believe you,” replied Elinor; “but I am very sure that Colonel Brandon has not the smallest wish of marrying me.”