Complete Works of Jane Austen

by Jane Austen

  As her aunt prided herself on the exact propriety and neatness with which everything in her family was conducted, and had no higher satisfaction than that of knowing her house to be always in complete order, as her fortune was good, and her establishment ample, few were the preparations necessary for the reception of her visitors. The day of their arrival so long expected, at length came, and the noise of the coach and as it drove round the sweep, was to Catharine a more interesting sound, than the music of an Italian opera, which to most heroines is the height of enjoyment. Mr and Mrs Stanley were people of large fortune and high fashion. He was a Member of the House of Commons, and they were therefore most agreeably necessitated to reside half the year in Town; where Miss Stanley had been attended by the most capital masters from the time of her being six years old to the last spring, which comprehending a period of twelve years had been dedicated to the acquirement of accomplishments which were now to be displayed and in a few years entirely neglected. She was elegant in her appearance, rather handsome, and naturally not deficient in abilities; but those years which ought to have been spent in the attainment of useful knowledge and mental improvement, had been all bestowed in learning drawing, Italian and music, more especially the latter, and she now united to these accomplishments, an understanding unimproved by reading and a mind totally devoid either of taste or judgement. Her temper was by nature good, but unassisted by reflection, she had neither patience under disappointment, nor could sacrifice her own inclinations to promote the happiness of others. All her ideas were towards the elegance of her appearance, the fashion of her dress, and the admiration she wished them to excite. She professed a love of books without reading, was lively without wit, and generally good humoured without merit. Such was Camilla Stanley; and Catharine, who was prejudiced by her appearance, and who from her solitary situation was ready to like anyone, th’ her understanding and judgement would not otherwise have been easily satisfied, felt almost convinced when she saw her, that Miss Stanley would be the very companion she wanted, and in some degree make amends for the loss of Cecilia and Mary Wynne. She therefore attached herself to Camilla from the first day of her arrival, and from being the only young people in the house, they were by inclination constant companions. Kitty was herself a great reader, tho’ perhaps not a very deep one, and felt therefore highly delighted to find that Miss Stanley was equally fond of it. Eager to know that their sentiments as to books were similar, she very soon began questioning her new acquaintance on the subject; but though she was well read in modern history herself, she chose rather to speak first of books of a lighter kind, of books universally read and admired.

  ‘You have read Mrs Smith’s novels, I suppose!’ said she to her companion — . ‘Oh! Yes,’ replied the other, ‘and I am quite delighted with them — They are the sweetest things in the world—’ ‘And which do you prefer of them?’ ‘Oh! dear, I think there is no comparison between them — Emmeline is so much better than any of the others—’ ‘Many people think so, I know; but there does not appear so great a disproportion in their merits to me; do you think it is better written? ‘Oh! I do not know anything about that — but it is better in every thing — Besides, Ethelinde is so long—’That is a very common objection I believe,’ said Kitty, But for my own part, if a book is well written, I always find it too short.’ ‘So do I, only I get tired of it before it is finished. ‘But did not you find the story of Ethelinde very interesting? And the descriptions of Grasmere, are not they beautiful?’ ‘Oh! I missed them all, because I was in such a hurry to know the end of it’ — . Then from an easy transition she added, ‘We are going to the Lakes this autumn, and I am quite mad with joy; Sir Henry Devereux has promised to go with us, and that will make it so pleasant, you know—’

  ‘I dare say it will; but I think it is a pity that Sir Henry’s powers of pleasing were not reserved for an occasion where they might be more wanted. — However I quite envy you the pleasure of such a scheme.’

  ‘Oh! I am quite delighted with the thoughts of it; I can think of nothing else. I assure you I have done nothing for this last month but plan what clothes I should take with me, and I have at last determined to take very few indeed besides my travelling dress, and so I advise you to do, when ever you go; for I intend in case we should fall in with any races, or stop at Matlock or Scarborough, to have some things made for the occasion.’

  ‘You intend then to go into Yorkshire?’

  ‘I believe not — indeed I know nothing of the route, for I never trouble myself about such things. I only know that we are to go from Derbyshire to Matlock and Scarborough, but to which of them first, I neither know nor care — I am in hopes of meeting some particular friends of mine at Scarborough — Augusta told me in her last letter that Sir Peter talked of going; but then you know that is so uncertain. I cannot bear Sir Peter, he is such a horrid creature —

  ‘He is, is he?’ said Kitty, not knowing what else to say.

  ‘Oh! he is quite shocking.’ Here the conversation was interrupted, and Kitty was left in a painful uncertainty, as to the particulars of Sir Peter’s character; she knew only that he was horrid and shocking, but why, and in what, yet remained to be discovered. She could scarcely resolve what to think of her new acquaintance; she appeared to be shamefully ignorant as to the geography of England, if she had understood her right, and equally devoid of taste and information. Kitty was however unwilling to decide hastily; she was at once desirous of doing Miss Stanley justice, and of having her own wishes in her answered; she determined therefore to suspend all judgement for some time. After supper, the conversation turning on the state of affairs in the political world, Mrs Percival, who was firmly of opinion that the whole race of mankind were degenerating, said that for her part, everything she believed was going to rack and ruin, all order was destroyed over the face of the World, the House of Commons she heard did not break up sometimes till five in the morning, and depravity never was so general before; concluding with a wish that she might live to see the manners of the people in Queen Elizabeth’s reign, restored again. ‘Well, ma’am,’ said her niece, But I hope you do not mean with the times to restore Queen Elizabeth herself.’

  ‘Queen Elizabeth,’ said Mrs Stanley, who never hazarded a remark on history that was not well founded, ‘lived to a good old age, and was a very clever woman.’ ‘True, ma’am’, said Kitty; ‘But I do not consider either of those circumstances as meritorious in herself, and they are very far from making me wish her return, for if she were to come again with the same abilities and the same good constitution she might do as much mischief and last as long as she did before — .’ Then turning to Camilla who had been sitting very silent for some time, she added, ‘What do you think of Elizabeth, Miss Stanley? I hope you will not defend her.’

  ‘Oh! dear,’ said Miss Stanley, ‘I know nothing of politics, and cannot bear to hear them mentioned.’ Kitty started at this repulse, but made no answer; that Miss Stanley must be ignorant of what she could not distinguish from politics she felt perfectly convinced. — She retired to her own room, perplexed in her opinion about her new acquaintance, and fearful of her being very unlike Cecilia and Mary. She arose the next morning to experience a fuller conviction of this, and every future day increased it — . She found no variety in her conversation; She received no information from her but in fashions, and no amusement but in her performance on the harpsichord; and after repeated endeavours to find her what she wished, she was obliged to give up the attempt and to consider it as fruitless. There had occasionally appeared a something like humour in Camilla which had inspired her with hopes, that she might at least have a natural genius, tho’ not an improved one, but these sparklings of wit happened so seldom, and were so ill-supported that she was at last convinced of their being merely accidental. All her stock of knowledge was exhausted in a very few days, and when Kitty had learnt from her, how large their house in Town was, when the fashionable amusements began, who were the celebrated beauties and who the best millin
er, Camilla had nothing further to teach, except the characters of any of her acquaintance as they occurred in conversation, which was done with equal ease and brevity, by saying that the person was either the sweetest creature in the world, and one of whom she was dotingly fond, or horrid, shocking and not fit to be seen.

  As Catharine was very desirous of gaining every possible information as to the characters of the Halifax family, and concluded that Miss Stanley must be acquainted with them, as she seemed to be so with every one of any consequence, she took an opportunity as Camilla was one day enumerating all the people of rank that her mother visited, of asking her whether Lady Halifax were among the number.

  ‘Oh! Thank you for reminding me of her; she is the sweetest woman in the world, and one of our most intimate acquaintance, I do not suppose there is a day passes during the six months that we are in Town, but what we see each other in the course of it — . And I correspond with all the girls.’

  ‘They are then a very pleasant family!’ said Kitty. ‘They ought to be so indeed, to allow of such frequent meetings, or all conversation must be at end.’

  ‘Oh! dear, not at all,’ said Miss Stanley, ‘for sometimes we do not speak to each other for a month together. We meet perhaps only in public, and then you know we are often not able to get near enough; but in that case we always nod and smile.’

  ‘Which does just as well — . But I was going to ask you whether you have ever seen a Miss Wynne with them?’

  ‘I know who you mean perfectly — she wears a blue hat — . I have frequently seen her in Brook Street, when I have been at Lady Halifax’s balls — she gives one every month during the winter — . But only think how good it is in her to take care of Miss Wynne, for she is a very distant relation, and so poor that, as Miss Halifax told me, her Mother was obliged to find her in clothes. Is not it shameful?’

  ‘That she should be so poor? it is indeed, with such wealthy connexions as the family have.’

  ‘Oh! no; I mean, was not it shameful in Mr Wynne to leave his children so distressed, when he had actually the living of Chetwynde and two or three curacies, and only four children to provide for — . What would he have done if he had had ten, as many people have?’

  ‘He would have given them all a good education and have left them all equally poor.’

  ‘Well I do think there never was so lucky a family. Sir George Fitzgibbon you know sent the eldest girl to India entirely at his own expense, where they say she is most nobly married and the happiest creature in the world — Lady Halifax you see has taken care of the youngest and treats her as if she were her daughter; She does not go out into public with her to be sure; but then she is always present when her Ladyship gives her balls, and nothing can be kinder to her than Lady Halifax is; she would have taken her to Cheltenham last year, if there had been room enough at the lodgings, and therefore I do not think that she can have anything to complain of. Then there are the two sons; one of them the Bishop of M —— has got into the Army as a Lieutenant I suppose; and the other is extremely well off I know, for I have a notion that somebody puts him to school somewhere in Wales. Perhaps you knew them when they lived here?’

  ‘Very well, we met as often as your family and the Halifaxes do in Town, but as we seldom had any difficulty in getting near enough to speak, we seldom parted with merely a nod and a smile. They were indeed a most charming family, and I believe have scarcely their equals in the world; the neighbours we now have at the Parsonage, appear to more disadvantage in coming after them.’

  ‘Oh! horrid wretches! I wonder you can endure them.’

  ‘Why, what would you have one do?’

  ‘Oh! Lord, If I were in your place, I should abuse them all day long.’

  ‘So I do, but it does no good.’

  ‘Well, I declare it is quite a pity that they should be suffered to live. I wish my father would propose knocking all their brains out, some day or other when he is in the House. So abominably proud of their family! And I dare say after all, that there is nothing particular in it.’

  ‘Why yes, I believe they have reason to value themselves on it, if any body has; for you know he is Lord Amyatt’s brother.’

  ‘Oh! I know all that very well, but it is no reason for their being so horrid. I remember I met Miss Dudley last spring with Lady Amyatt at Ranelagh, and she had such a frightful cap on, that I have never been able to bear any of them since. — And so you used to think the Wynnes very pleasant?’

  ‘You speak as if their being so were doubtful! Pleasant! Oh! they were every thing that could interest and attach. It is not in my power to do justice to their merits, tho’ not to feel them, I think must be impossible. They have unfitted me for any society but their own!’

  ‘Well, that is just what I think of the Miss Halifaxes; by the bye, I must write to Caroline tomorrow, and I do not know what to say to her. The Barlows too are just such other sweet girls; but I wish Augusta’s hair was not so dark. I cannot bear Sir Peter — horrid wretch! He is always laid up with the gout, which is exceedingly disagreeable to the family.’

  ‘And perhaps not very pleasant to himself — . But as to the Wynnes; do you really think them very fortunate?’

  ‘Do I? Why, does not every body? Miss Halifax and Caroline and Maria all say that they are the luckiest creatures in the world. So does Sir George Fitzgibbon and so do every body.’

  ‘That is, every body who have themselves conferred an obligation on them. But do you call it lucky, for a girl of genius and feeling to be sent in quest of a husband to Bengal, to be married there to a man of whose disposition she has no opportunity of judging till her judgement is of no use to her, who may be a tyrant, or a fool or both for what she knows to the contrary. Do you call that fortunate?’

  ‘I know nothing of all that; I only know that it was extremely good in Sir George to fit her out and pay her passage, and that she would not have found many who would have done the same.’

  ‘I wish she had not found one,’ said Kitty with great eagerness, ‘she might then have remained in England and been happy.’

  ‘Well, I cannot conceive the hardship of going out in a very agreeable manner with two or three sweet girls for companions, having a delightful voyage to Bengal or Barbadoes or wherever it is, and being married soon after one’s arrival to a very charming man immensely rich — . I see no hardship in all that.’

  ‘Your representation of the affair,’ said Kitty laughing, ‘certainly gives a very different idea of it from mine. But supposing all this to be true, still, as it was by no means certain that she would be so fortunate either in her voyage, her companions, or her husband; in being obliged to run the risk of their proving very different, she undoubtedly experienced a great hardship — . Besides, to a girl of any delicacy, the voyage in itself, since the object of it is so universally known, is a punishment that needs no other to make it very severe.’

  ‘I do not see that at all. She is not the first girl who has gone to the East Indies for a husband, and I declare I should think it very good fun if I were as poor.’

  ‘I believe you would think very differently then. But at least you will not defend her sister’s situation! Dependant even for her clothes on the bounty of others, who of course do not pity her, as by your own account, they consider her as very fortunate.’

  ‘You are extremely nice upon my word; Lady Halifax is a delightful woman, and one of the sweetest tempered creatures in the world; I am sure I have every reason to speak well of her, for we are under most amazing obligations to her. She has frequently chaperoned me when my mother has been indisposed, and last spring she lent me her own horse three times, which was a prodigious favour, for it is the most beautiful creature that ever was seen, and I am the only person she ever lent it to.’

  ‘And then,’ continued she, ‘the Miss Halifaxes are quite delightful. Maria is one of the cleverest girls that ever were known — draws in oils, and plays anything by sight. She promised me one of her drawings before I left Town, b
ut I entirely forgot to ask her for it. I would give anything to have one.’

  ‘But was not it very odd,’ said Kitty, ‘that the Bishop should send Charles Wynne to sea, when he must have had a much better chance of providing for him in the Church, which was the profession that Charles liked best, and the one for which his father had intended him? The Bishop I know had often promised Mr Wynne a living, and as he never gave him one, I think it was incumbent on him to transfer the promise to his son.’

  ‘I believe you think he ought to have resigned his Bishopric to him; you seem determined to be dissatisfied with every thing that has been done for them.’

  ‘Well,’ said Kitty, ‘this is a subject on which we shall never agree, and therefore it will be useless to continue it farther, or to mention it again—’ She then left the room, and running out of the house was soon in her dear bower where she could indulge in peace all her affectionate anger against the relations of the Wynnes, which was greatly heightened by finding from Camilla that they were in general considered as having acted particularly well by them — . She amused herself for some time in abusing, and hating them all, with great spirit, and when this tribute to her regard for the Wynnes, was paid, and the bower began to have its usual influence over her spirits, she contributed towards settling them, by taking out a book, for she had always one about her, and reading — . She had been so employed for nearly an hour, when Camilla came running towards her with great eagerness, and apparently great pleasure — . ‘Oh! my dear Catharine,’ said she, half out of breath—’I have such delightful news for you — But you shall guess what it is — We are all the happiest creatures in the world; would you believe it, the Dudleys have sent us an invitation to a ball at their own house — . What charming people they are! I had no idea of there being so much sense in the whole family — I declare I quite dote upon them — . And it happens so fortunately too, for I expect a new cap from Town tomorrow which will just do for a ball — gold net — It will be a most angelic thing — every body will be longing for the pattern—’. The expectation of a ball was indeed very agreeable intelligence to Kitty, who fond of dancing and seldom able to enjoy it, had reason to feel even greater pleasure in it than her friend; for to her, it was now no novelty — . Camilla’s delight however was by no means inferior to Kitty’s, and she rather expressed the most of the two. The cap came and every other preparation was soon completed; while these were in agitation the days passed gaily away, but when directions were no longer necessary, taste could no longer be displayed, the difficulties no longer overcome, the short period that intervened before the day of the ball hung heavily on their hands, and every hour was too long. The very few times that Kitty had ever enjoyed the amusement of dancing was an excuse for her impatience, and an apology for the idleness it occasioned to a mind naturally very active; but her friend without such a plea was infinitely worse than herself. She could do nothing but wander from the house to the garden, and from the garden to the avenue, wondering when Thursday would come, which she might easily have ascertained, and counting the hours as they passed which served only to lengthen them — .