by Jane Austen
He moved close in to her and bent to whisper. “You have not taken to giggling behind a fan then, Miss Heywood?” he breathed.
“No indeed, Sir, I have not,” she retorted,“for in the first place I find nothing much to giggle about and in the second I do not have a fan.”
Sir Edward Denham smiled and put his mouth to her ear again. “But of course, Miss Heywood,” he purred,“you would not need a fan, for what in the world could cause a clearheaded girl like yourself to be in need of cooling off.”
Charlotte knew very well his intention to be that of flustering her, embarrassing her. He was abominable! But she had to confess that the arts he so cleverly employed were not entirely lost on her. He had been so close to her! Good Heavens, the intimacy of whispering ought to be avoided in public whenever possible.The caress of his breath, he whom she hated so violently, still seemed to linger and she resented him for it.The idea that he seemed determined to pursue her was quickly gone, for he was soon in the process of being introduced to Miss Lambe and, Charlotte noted with amusement and relief, he now wore a very different expression on his face. He had about him that mercurial quality that allowed dramatic alteration to take place with rapidity. His bow to Miss Lambe was lower and longer than the gesture he had made to the tittering Miss Beauforts, but Miss Lambe’s fortune often bought her a longer lower bow than her less fortunate friends.
“Miss Lambe, it is an honor,” he gushed on making the girl’s acquaintance. She rewarded him with no more than her customary smile and faint nod. This rendered her all the more intriguing to him.The Miss Beauforts could not sit too long observing him, this man who so fascinated them, in pursuit of another and Letitia once more ensured that attention was drawn to her and her sister by taking up her stool and beginning on the harp. During her previous performance, she had not mentioned having any particular difficulty turning pages or reading music, but now she pleaded, “I will play of course, but must have someone to turn pages for me.” She looked about the room.
Sir Edward, with such an appearance of gallantry, was by her in an instant. He was the natural choice, the very person to oblige.
“You are too kind, Sir,” said she sweetly and, seated in that ungainly way that is the posture of harpists, she went on, “but do draw up a low chair for yourself, for I fear the sheets are set too far down for a person of your great stature.”
With his height and gallantry so flattered and admired, Sir Edward was in her grip.What an attitude of devotion this man so easily adopted and how readily the girl drank in his admiring glances.The other Miss Beaufort, mindful to have her share of the attention, began a turn about the room and chanced to drop her fan by Sir Edward’s feet. The effect of the appeal of one sister did not overcome him so much that he could not pay proper attention to the other. Courtesy was not lost to him. His retrieving her ornament and placing it back in her grateful hand was less cleanly executed than it might have been, for Charlotte noticed that with the return of the girl’s possession there came also the briefest brushing of fingers. Now the artistic Miss Beaufort, who had since been introduced as Davina, was more in need of her fan than ever. Her blushes and flustered countenance were noticed by all, and would very likely be regarded by Sir Edward Denham as a sure sign of his own charisma.
Could every female in the world be so taken by Sir Edward Denham? Was she, Charlotte, the only steady-minded young woman who would not be smitten? Where would his activities lead? What good could come of his addiction to flirtation? Moreover, how many more young girls would find themselves strewn in the hedgerows minus their collars? Sir Edward Denham seemed to her more a beast than a man; but a beautiful beast he made and all who saw him seemed to fall unavoidably in some sort of love, to be lured, bewitched, mesmerized by his charms. Apart from Charlotte, who knew herself opposed to loving such an animal unless there was a very strong chance of taming him, and that, she felt, was unlikely. Here was a creature certain to bite.Thus, although willing to admit that he had a certain appealing way about him, Charlotte determined always to think ill of him and vowed never allow him to whisper in her ear in a public place again.
CHAPTER 13
Some newcomers to a place have the art of fitting in immediately. Once a day or so has passed, these visitors give the impression of having always been part of that sphere. Residents accept them as familiar and welcome them as old friends. Not once did Charlotte think herself this sort of person. She was well received in Sanditon and liked, as far as she knew, but she had, and gave, the impression that she was not quite living life, there was always that quality that made her and those about her feel she was distanced, for the sake of observation, from central circumstances. Charlotte Heywood could sit in a room filled with people and not quite be there. Born and raised in a large and noisy family, this ability to detach herself and think herself elsewhere had been a useful facility in times past.
Sanditon was such a place; its residents so peculiar to her that she could not feel related to them and struggled to understand them.Their ideas, mostly irrational, prevented her from viewing a single one of them as entirely sound-minded and there was nothing that unsettled Charlotte more than a tendency toward absurdity. Wit, she had all the time in the world for. But it seemed that humor was sadly lacking in the Parker family, at least in those members of it she had met. Oh, they were amusing, comedic almost, but unwittingly so. Mr. Parker, dear sweet man that he was, could certainly not be described as conventional. Always talking about Sanditon in his impassioned manner, he expected every other human being to join in his craze and, worse still, he positively delighted in hearing about people’s illnesses. Ill people were Mr. Parker’s pleasure and were to be Sanditon’s great salvation. They would flock there in time and the magical cures afforded them would be just the promotion the place and its staunchest advocate longed for. Mr. Parker liked nothing better than to hear news of a particularly bad cold that was circulating the world. It was his delight to imagine the sick, in their sniffling droves, heading toward his glorious little bit of Sussex with their full reticules and high fevers.The surest way to unsettle Mr. Parker was to mention Bath!
“Ah, that unclean hovel,” he once proclaimed, “what possible remedy can be found in so built up an area? People have been driven quite out of their senses over the dreadful place but I cannot understand what the pump rooms have that my dear Sanditon does not.The waters, I grant you, may well be restorative, but what use is immersion or consumption in such a place as Bath? The smoke and confusion of it all would quickly render any medicinal intakes entirely useless! The percussion of the streets drives one distracted. The ground is so filthy everyone must wear pattens and the dreadful things are so noisy everyone must be obliged to suffer a headache as a result. No one ever thinks of pattens in Sanditon, we have such pristine footpaths. And headaches have a pleasing way of passing quickly. Spas, in general you know, are not so popular these days since the King got himself ill at Cheltenham.”
Then there was Brinshore; he could never comprehend the success of that place. “Brighton, I grant you, is pleasant enough and the Prince of Wales’s patronage has made it fashionable.There they have the advantage of the ton. Even the Kent coast, these last two years or so, has made something of a mark. Londoners, we must at least admire their fierceness of spirit, go by steamboat from the Thames to Margate, you know. I concede there might be benefits in the place, in Kent generally perhaps, but the return to London must surely undo any good.” What, he wondered, could any of these places offer that his own beloved Sanditon did not? His entire existence revolved around Sanditon. He cherished it. He swanned in adoration through its streets, breathing its salty restorative air while his head filled with plans, theories, and concepts. Advancement and promotion were his objectives. Schemes and questions rallied for attention in his mind. How many more visitors could be encouraged? How could the place become more widely known? His latest project, to install a professional, conventional medicine man was brought about, not by any belief on
his part that such an authority was needed. Moreover, his calculations had led him to deduce that half the population of the world must be sound-minded enough to seek natural cures for their ills and the other half was made up of those committed to chemical assistance. To lure this latter half to Sanditon, he must have a doctor reside there. Even his own poor family’s violent feelings about the failures of doctors might well be eased once such a man could be made known to them. Pills, potions, lotions, and unguents were not Mr. Parker’s own favored remedies but if a substantial portion of potential visitors could be persuaded to head for his beloved part of the coast on the strength of such treatments being available, then he must not give up his quest to find a man qualified and trusted to prescribe such therapies.
Mrs. Parker bore her husband’s exuberance with saintly tolerance. Quiet agreement was her favored stance. She had no very strong inclinations to contradict or question. Mr. Parker’s energy was best flung in the direction of Sanditon. An entire neighborhood could far easier absorb his excitement than a single person ever could. Mrs. Parker was satisfied that he was not without direction; it suited her very well indeed. She had the house and the family; four children were quite enough to keep her occupied. It had occurred to her that had Mr. Parker’s vigor not been reserved for Sanditon, she might have been obliged to mother an even larger brood, for she was fully sensible of the force of her husband’s passions and believed that such energy must be spent somewhere. Mrs. Parker was rather grateful not to be the mother of a fine family of ten. She had seen many a poor animal worn down by motherhood.
The occupants of Sanditon, those who moved in Lady Denham’s luxuriant sphere, were not people Charlotte Heywood had a natural inclination to like, but there was no denying they were enigmatic. Miss Brereton, poor beautiful Miss Brereton, with her frail appearance, seemed to Charlotte to have more fortitude than was at first apparent. Hers was a deceptive meekness. Her rapid recovery after the incident on the bank had left Charlotte intrigued and Sir Edward Denham’s harsh treatment of the girl simply could not be explained or excused no matter how many times Charlotte dwelt on the subject. Lady Denham was, as many rich women before her have been, unaware of and unconcerned by the realities of the world, unless one could consider Sanditon “the world” and what went on within it “reality.” Lady Denham inspired indifference in Charlotte, she was not so bad as to induce any feelings of strong dislike, nor so wholly good or appealing in manner to encourage admiration. But of all the residents, it was Sir Edward that Charlotte most adamantly despised. What could be liked about him? A girl of good sense, as Charlotte considered herself to be, would not be drawn in by his charming manners and looks. If she was drawn in at all, and she was loathe to admit it if she was, the allure would be nothing more than would be expected of her inquisitive nature. If she thought about him, it was never with soft reflection, when he came into her mind it was only because some aspect of his horrendous character puzzled her.
The newcomers fascinated Charlotte: the Miss Beauforts, Miss Lambe, and Mrs. Griffiths. The latter held the least fascination, there was nothing unexpected about her at all; she was merely the proud hen presiding over her small brightly colored chicks. The brightest, the Miss Beauforts, were certainly man-hunting, the sweetest, Miss Lambe, who was the most eligible of them all, was certainly not. Mr. Parker’s sisters and brother Arthur, who Charlotte had already had occasion to observe, were all three hypochondriacs, though their psychosomatic complaints differed vastly. There was, however, in their existence, a harmonic tone despite their constant reprimands to each other over matters of health care.
Arthur, great butter-devouring, idle Arthur, was a polite young man but reason had long deserted him. He had lived too much in the company of fussing sisters and this had resulted in his manner being quite unlike that of other young men. Susan and Diana had molded soft Arthur, he was the malleable child neither of them had ever had, the bendable husband neither of them had ever wanted, and the very thing to worry themselves sick over that they craved. “Poor Arthur is quite sallow today!” “Poor Arthur’s tongue is very pale.” “Poor Arthur has been poisoned by green tea.” Poor Arthur, indeed. He was prodded, examined, massaged, purged, leeched, and bled at the slightest sign of affliction.
Diana Parker, who proclaimed to be sicker than the rest of the family put together, showed little sign of being so. Always occupied with business other than her own, her pride was that she would help anyone even if she did hover constantly on the brink of an early and probably agonizing death. Assistance, when given by a poor sick creature, is always appreciated far more by the recipient than help offered by a robust person.To martyr herself was Diana’s aim. She had, after all (she reminded everyone) accompanied Miss Lambe in the bathing machine, despite having a spot of the bronchials herself. Her being so afflicted and yet so obliging earned her excessive praise. Susan Parker seemed really to live in the shadow of Diana, and of the three Parkers who lived together in sickly bliss, she was the one most definitely prone to disease and the one least inclined to complain about it. Her sister, therefore, complained for her, her brother did not.
Sidney Parker, recently arrived in Sanditon from Eastbourne, was a young man Charlotte was eager to acquaint fully with.Their brief meeting on his arrival had been followed by a promise of assembling later that day. He came for dinner at Trafalgar House, which went off very well. But, according to Sidney Parker’s view of things, better acquaintance was made later during the party’s respite in the drawing room. “For,” he announced, “one can never really get to know a person during a situation that begins with hors d’oeuvres and ends with raspberry fool, and Heaven forbid and Lord help us all, should a fish course prevail somewhere between these two then all chance of proper conversation is lost.” In keeping with the sentiments of those who live by the sea, fish was considered, in the Parker household, the very basis of a staple diet.
“Have I ever told you, Miss Heywood,” said Mr. Parker during dinner, “that our Sanditon fish is the finest in the world! I always urge Mrs. Parker to order a main course of fish. Our cook will, as a rule, try to sell us the idea of meat, she is a great one for a heavy meal, but I cannot wrench myself from a good local fish. In the summer, at least, I think it is to be recommended for its lightness. And we do not just restrict to the sea, our rivers team with gifts for the table, our salmon with shrimp sauce is a perpetual delight and often better received than a chicken.”
“I consider fish the most antisocial dish one can offer, especially where new acquaintance must be made,” observed Sidney with a smile.
“My brother, Miss Heywood, laughs at everything, I think I warned you,” cried Mr. Parker with joviality.
“Fish is no laughing matter when it comes to eating it,” retorted Sidney, “one must have the knowledge of an anatomist and the skill of a surgeon to procure a small mouthful, I see no humor in that! What kind of meal is it that ends half in frustration and half in starvation?” He turned to Miss Heywood, who was seated next to him, and said, with every intention of making her easy, “I see a bone like a dagger in your fillet, Miss Heywood, pray do not swallow it.”
Charlotte laughed.“I shall take heed of your advice, Sir.”
They were in no such danger in the drawing room. The wine was safe to drink, according to Sidney, the coffee a tolerably good blend, and the company pleasing.This last Charlotte knew to be directed at her, and Sidney Parker proved her case by paying her every attention, leading the conversation with particulars of his family.
“My sisters and poor Arthur are come into Sanditon I understand! Well there is a surprise. They never venture anywhere, Miss Heywood; they stay mostly at home, indoors. Away from light and germs and life! They live quietly, devotedly, with the express purpose of convincing my poor impressionable brother Arthur that he is at death’s door. My family, you will soon learn, has not a steady member amongst it!”
“Sidney!” exclaimed his sister-in-law.
“My sister-in-law is in
clined to think me too harsh,” he confided, “but, I speak the truth, my brother here is quite demented over Sanditon, and my other relatives are quite demented about sickness, you would think, would you not, Miss Heywood, that between them some cures might be discovered?”
Miss Heywood smiled. “Your disapproval is too affectionate to be taken seriously.You clearly love your poor family and no doubt talk of them incessantly whenever you can. But you have given me quite enough details of them and none of yourself, by what means am I to make out your character?” said she.
“I am sure my brother here has given you particulars,” this with a warm smile to Mr. Parker, “my fault, if he is to be believed, is that I scoff at everything, apparently, and ... ”
Mr. Parker interjected with good humor. “I confess I have already described you as a saucy fellow to Miss Heywood,” he said. “The description befits you Sidney, you will not deny it, will you?”
Sidney laughed. “I dare not.You are quite fixed in your thinking. A saucy fellow, eh? How am I to live up to this expectation?”
“I do not foresee too much difficulty, Sir,” said Charlotte. “You seem to qualify for the title.”
Sidney Parker stood up, his feigned indignation at the affront serving very well to prove him something of a performer, a dramatist. He was a man who favored big gestures, exaggerations, and comedic turns.
“You have shocked me, Miss Heywood,” cried he, with a flourishing hand to his heart. “In truth, if I were less well-mannered, I should be inclined to call you a saucy girl!”
Ease and affability defined their discourse. Sidney Parker had about him the confidence of one who has no financial worries and the cool poise of a man who has the acumen to ensure he never will have. His jovial manner and propensity to jest about everything meant others were easy in his company. He was not all frivolity though, he simply preferred this stance. “In truth, Miss Heywood, someone has to be an easy sort of fellow in this family, Heaven help us!” he exclaimed.