by Jane Austen
They retired to their rooms in high spirits on Wednesday night, but Kitty awoke the next morning with a violent toothache. It was in vain that she endeavoured at first to deceive herself; her feelings were witnesses too acute of its reality; with as little success did she try to sleep it off, for the pain she suffered prevented her closing her eyes — . She then summoned her maid and with the assistance of the housekeeper, every remedy that the receipt book or the head of the latter contained, was tried, but ineffectually; for though for a short time relieved by them, the pain still returned. She was now obliged to give up the endeavour, and to reconcile herself not only to the pain of a toothache, but to the loss of a ball; and though she had with so much eagerness looked forward to the day of its arrival, had received such pleasure in the necessary preparations, and promised herself so much delight in it, yet she was not so totally void of philosophy as many girls of her age might have been in her situation. She considered that there were misfortunes of a much greater magnitude than the loss of a ball, experienced every day by some part of mortality, and that the time might come when she would herself look back with wonder and perhaps with envy on her having known no greater vexation. By such reflections as these, she soon reasoned herself into as much resignation and patience as the pain she suffered, would allow of, which after all was the greatest misfortune of the two, and told the sad story when she entered the breakfast room, with tolerable composure. Mrs Percival more grieved for her toothache than her disappointment, as she feared that it would not be possible to prevent her dancing with a Man if she went, was eager to try everything that had already been applied to alleviate the pain, while at the same time she declared it was impossible for her to leave the house. Miss Stanley who joined to her concern for her friend, felt a mixture of dread lest her mother’s proposal that they should all remain at home, might be accepted, was very violent in her sorrow on the occasion, and though her apprehensions on the subject were soon quieted by Kitty’s protesting that sooner than allow any one to stay with her, she would herself go, she continued to lament it with such unceasing vehemence as at last drove Kitty to her own room. Her fears for herself being now entirely dissipated left her more than ever at leisure to pity and persecute her friend who the safe when in her own room, was frequently removing from it to some other in hopes of being more free from pain, and then had no opportunity of escaping her — .
‘To be sure, there never was anything so shocking,’ said Camilla; ‘To come on such a day too! For one would not have minded it you know had it been at any other time. But it always is so. I never was at a ball in my life, but what something happened to prevent somebody from going! I wish there were no such things a teeth in the world; they are nothing but plagues to one, and I dare say that people might easily invent something to eat with instead of them; poor thing! what pain you are in! I declare it is quite shocking to look at you. But you won’t have it out, will you! For Heaven’s sake don’t; for there is nothing I dread so much. I declare I have rather undergo the greatest tortures in the world than have a tooth drawn. Well! how patiently you do bear it! how can you be so quiet! Lord, if I were in your place I should make such a fuss, there would be no bearing me. I should torment you to death.’
‘So you do, as it is,’ thought Kitty.
‘For my own part, Catharine’ said Mrs Percival ‘I have not a doubt but that you caught this toothache by sitting so much in that arbour, for it is always damp. I know it has ruined your constitution entirely; and indeed I do not believe it has been of much service to mine; I sat down in it last May to rest myself, and I have never been quite well since — . I shall order John to pull it all down I assure you.’
‘I know you will not do that, ma’am,’ said Kitty, ‘as you must be convinced how unhappy it would make me.’
‘You talk very ridiculously, child; it is all whim and nonsense. Why cannot you fancy this room an arbour!’
‘Had this room been built by Cecilia and Mary, I should have valued it equally, ma’am, for it is not merely the name of an arbour, which charms me.’
‘Why indeed, Mrs Percival,’ said Mrs Stanley, ‘I must think that Catharine’s affection for her bower is the effect of a sensibility that does her credit. I love to see a friendship between young persons and always consider it as a sure mark of an amiable affectionate disposition. I have from Camilla’s infancy taught her to think the same, and have taken great pains to introduce her to young people of her own age who were likely to be worthy of her regard. Nothing forms the taste more than sensible and elegant letters — . Lady Halifax thinks just like me — . Camilla corresponds with her daughters, and I believe I may venture to say that they are none of them the worse for it.’
These ideas were too modern to suit Mrs Percival who considered a correspondence between girls as productive of no good, and as the frequent origin of imprudence and error by the effect of pernicious advice and bad example. She could not therefore refrain from saying that for her part, she had lived fifty years in the world without having ever had a correspondent, and did not find herself at all the less respectable for it — . Mrs Stanley could say nothing in answer to this, but her daughter who was less governed by propriety, said in her thoughtless way, ‘But who knows what you might have been, ma’am, if you had had a correspondent; perhaps it would have made you quite a different creature. I declare I would not be without those I have for all the world. It is the greatest delight of my life, and you cannot think how much their letters have formed my taste as Mama says, for I hear from them generally every week.’
‘You received a letter from Augusta Barlow to day, did not you, my love’ said her mother — . ‘She writes remarkably well I know.’
‘Oh! Yes ma’am, the most delightful letter you ever heard of. She sends me a long account of the new Regency walking dress Lady Susan has given her, and it is so beautiful that I am quite dying with envy for it.’
‘Well, I am prodigiously happy to hear such pleasing news of my young friend; I have a high regard for Augusta, and most sincerely partake in the general joy on the occasion. But does she say nothing else? it seemed to be a long letter — Are they to be at Scarborough?’
‘Oh! Lord, she never once mentions it, now I recollect it; and I entirely forgot to ask her when I wrote last. She says nothing indeed except about the Regency.’ ‘She must write well’ thought Kitty, to make a long letter upon a bonnet and pelisse.’ She then left the room tired of listening to a conversation which tho’ it might have diverted her had she been well, served only to fatigue and depress her, while in pain. Happy was it for her, when the hour of dressing came, for Camilla satisfied with being surrounded by her mother and half the maids in the house did not want her assistance, and was too agreeably employed to want her society. She remained therefore alone in the parlour, till joined by Mr Stanley and her aunt, who however after a few enquiries, allowed her to continue undisturbed and began their usual conversation on politics. This was a subject on which they could never agree, for Mr Stanley who considered himself as perfectly qualified by his seat in the House, to decide on it without hesitation, resolutely maintained that the Kingdom had not for ages been in so flourishing and prosperous a state, and Mrs Percival with equal warmth, tho’ perhaps less argument, as vehemently asserted that the whole nation would speedily be ruined, and everything as she expressed herself be at sixes and sevens. It was not however unamusing to Kitty to listen to the dispute, especially as she began then to be more free from pain, and without taking any share in it herself, she found it very entertaining to observe the eagerness with which they both defended their opinions, and could not help thinking that Mr Stanley would not feel more disappointed if her aunt’s expectations were fulfilled, than her Aunt would be mortified by their failure. After waiting a considerable time Mrs Stanley and her daughter appeared, and Camilla in high spirits, and perfect good humour with her own looks, was more violent than ever in her lamentations over her friend as she practised her Scotch steps about the room
— . At length they departed, and Kitty better able to amuse herself than she had been the whole day before, wrote a long account of her misfortunes to Mary Wynne.
When her letter was concluded she had an opportunity of witnessing the truth of that assertion which says that sorrows are lightened by communication, for her toothache was then so much relieved that she began to entertain an idea of following her friends to Mr Dudley’s. They had been gone an hour, and as every thing relative to her dress was in complete readiness, she considered that in another hour since there was so little a way to go, she might be there — . They were gone in Mr Stanley’s carriage and therefore she might follow in her aunt’s. As the plan seemed so very easy to be executed, and promising so much pleasure, it was after a few minutes deliberation finally adopted, and running up stairs, she rang in great haste for her maid. The bustle and hurry which then ensued for nearly an hour was at last happily concluded by her finding herself very well dressed and in high beauty. Anne was then dispatched in the same haste to order the carriage, while her mistress was putting on her gloves, and arranging the folds of her dress. In a few minutes she heard the carriage drive up to the door, and tho’ at first surprised at the expedition with which it had been got ready, she concluded after a little reflection that the men had received some hint of her intentions beforehand, and was hastening out of the room, when Anne came running into it in the greatest hurry and agitation, exclaiming ‘Lord, ma’am! Here’s a gentleman in a chaise and four come, and I cannot for the life conceive who it is! I happened to be crossing the hall when the carriage drove up, and I knew nobody would be in the way to let him in but Tom, and he looks so awkward you know, ma’am, now his hair is just done up, that I was not willing the gentleman should see him, and so I went to the door myself. And he is one of the handsomest young men you would wish to see; I was almost ashamed of being seen in my apron, ma’am, but however he is vastly handsome and did not seem to mind it at all. — And he asked me whether the family were at home; and so I said everybody was gone out but you, ma’am, for I would not deny you because I was sure you would like to see him. And then he asked me whether Mr and Mrs Stanley were not here, and so I said yes, and then —
‘Good Heavens!’ said Kitty, ‘what can all this mean! And who can it possibly be! Did you never see him before! And did not he tell you his name!’
‘No, ma’am, he never said anything about it — So then I asked him to walk into the parlour, and he was prodigious agreeable, and —
‘Whoever he is,’ said her mistress, ‘he has made a great impression upon you, Nanny — But where did he come from? and what does he want here?’
‘Oh! Ma’am, I was going to tell you, that I fancy his business is with you; for he asked me whether you were at leisure to see anybody, and desired I would give his compliments to you, and say he should be very happy to wait on you — However I thought he had better not come up into your dressing room, especially as everything is in such a litter, so I told him if he would be so obliging as to stay in the parlour, I would run up stairs and tell you he was come, and I dared to say that you would wait upon him. Lord, ma’am, I’d lay anything that he is come to ask you to dance with him tonight, and has got his chaise ready to take you to Mr Dudley’s.’
Kitty could not help laughing at this idea, and only wished it might be true, as it was very likely that she would be too late for any other partner — But what, in the name of wonder, can he have to say to me! Perhaps he is come to rob the house — he comes in style at least; and it will be some consolation for our losses to be robbed by a gentleman in a chaise and four — . What livery has his servants?’
‘Why that is the most wonderful thing about him, ma’am, for he has not a single servant with him, and came with hack horses; but he is as handsome as a Prince for all that, and has quite the look of one. Do, dear ma’am, go down, for I am sure you will be delighted with him—’
‘Well, I believe I must go; but it is very odd! What can he have to say to me.’ Then giving one look at herself in the glass, she walked with great impatience, tho’ trembling all the while from not knowing what to expect, down stairs, and after pausing a moment at the door to gather courage for opening it, she resolutely entered the room. The stranger, whose appearance did not disgrace the account she had received of it from her maid, rose up on her entrance, and laying aside the newspaper he had been reading, advanced towards her with an air of the most perfect ease and vivacity, and said to her, ‘It is certainly a very awkward circumstance to be thus obliged to introduce myself, but I trust that the necessity of the case will plead my excuse, and prevent your being prejudiced by it against me — . Your name, I need not ask, ma’am — .Miss Percival is too well known to me by description to need any information of that.’
Kitty, who had been expecting him to tell his own name, instead of hers, and who from having been little in company, and never before in such a situation, felt herself unable to ask it, tho’ she had been planning her speech all the way down stairs, was so confused and distressed by this unexpected address that she could only return a slight curtsy to it, and accepted the chair he reached her, without knowing what she did. The gentleman then continued. ‘You are, I dare say, surprised to see me returned from France so soon, and nothing indeed but business could have brought me to England; a very melancholy affair has now occasioned it, and I was unwilling to leave it without paying my respects to the family in Devonshire whom I have so long wished to be acquainted with — .’ Kitty, who felt much more surprised at his supposing her to be so, than at seeing a person in England, whose having ever left it was perfectly unknown to her, still continued silent from wonder and perplexity, and her visitor still continued to talk.
‘You will suppose, madam, that I was not the less desirous of waiting on you, from your having Mr and Mrs Stanley with you — . I hope they are well? And Mrs Percival, how does she do?’ Then without waiting for an answer he gaily added, But my dear Miss Percival, you are going out I am sure; and I am detaining you from your appointment. How can I ever expect to be forgiven for such injustice! Yet how can I, so circumstanced, forbear to offend! You seem dressed for a ball! But this is the land of gaiety I know; I have for many years been desirous of visiting it. You have dances I suppose at least every week — But where are the rest of your party gone, and what kind angel in compassion to me, has excluded you from it?’
‘Perhaps sir,’ said Kitty extremely confused by his manner of speaking to her, and highly displeased with the freedom of his conversation towards one who had never seen him before and did not now know his name, ‘perhaps sir, you are acquainted with Mr and Mrs Stanley; and your business may be with them?’
‘You do me too much honour, ma’am,’ replied he laughing, ‘in supposing me to be acquainted with Mr and Mrs Stanley; I merely know them by sight; very distant relations; only my father and mother. Nothing more I assure you.’
‘Gracious Heaven! said Kitty,’are you Mr Stanley then? — I beg a thousand pardons — Though really upon recollection I do not know for what — for you never told me your name—’
‘I beg your pardon — I made a very fine speech when you entered the room, all about introducing myself; I assure you it was very great for me.’
The speech had certainly great merit,’ said Kitty smiling; ‘I thought so at the time; but since you never mentioned your name in it, as an introductory one it might have been better.’
There was such an air of good humour and gaiety in Stanley, that Kitty, tho’ perhaps not authorized to address him with so much familiarity on so short an acquaintance, could not forbear indulging the natural unreserve and vivacity of her own disposition, in speaking to him, as he spoke to her. She was intimately acquainted too with his family who were her relations, and she chose to consider herself entitled by the connexion to forget how little a while they had known each other. ‘Mr and Mrs Stanley and your sister are extremely well,’ said she, ‘and will I dare say be very much surprised to see you — But I a
m sorry to hear that your return to England has been occasioned by an unpleasant circumstance.’