Persuasion

Chapter 5

On the morning appointed for Admiral and Mrs Croft's seeing KellynchHall, Anne found it most natural to take her almost daily walk to LadyRussell's, and keep out of the way till all was over; when she found itmost natural to be sorry that she had missed the opportunity of seeingthem.

This meeting of the two parties proved highly satisfactory, and decidedthe whole business at once. Each lady was previously well disposed foran agreement, and saw nothing, therefore, but good manners in theother; and with regard to the gentlemen, there was such an hearty goodhumour, such an open, trusting liberality on the Admiral's side, ascould not but influence Sir Walter, who had besides been flattered intohis very best and most polished behaviour by Mr Shepherd's assurancesof his being known, by report, to the Admiral, as a model of goodbreeding.

The house and grounds, and furniture, were approved, the Crofts wereapproved, terms, time, every thing, and every body, was right; and MrShepherd's clerks were set to work, without there having been a singlepreliminary difference to modify of all that ”This indenture sheweth.”

Sir Walter, without hesitation, declared the Admiral to be thebest-looking sailor he had ever met with, and went so far as to say,that if his own man might have had the arranging of his hair, he shouldnot be ashamed of being seen with him any where; and the Admiral, withsympathetic cordiality, observed to his wife as they drove back throughthe park, ”I thought we should soon come to a deal, my dear, in spiteof what they told us at Taunton. The Baronet will never set the Thameson fire, but there seems to be no harm in him.”--reciprocalcompliments, which would have been esteemed about equal.

The Crofts were to have possession at Michaelmas; and as Sir Walterproposed removing to Bath in the course of the preceding month, therewas no time to be lost in making every dependent arrangement.

Lady Russell, convinced that Anne would not be allowed to be of anyuse, or any importance, in the choice of the house which they weregoing to secure, was very unwilling to have her hurried away so soon,and wanted to make it possible for her to stay behind till she mightconvey her to Bath herself after Christmas; but having engagements ofher own which must take her from Kellynch for several weeks, she wasunable to give the full invitation she wished, and Anne though dreadingthe possible heats of September in all the white glare of Bath, andgrieving to forego all the influence so sweet and so sad of theautumnal months in the country, did not think that, everythingconsidered, she wished to remain. It would be most right, and mostwise, and, therefore must involve least suffering to go with the others.

Something occurred, however, to give her a different duty. Mary, oftena little unwell, and always thinking a great deal of her owncomplaints, and always in the habit of claiming Anne when anything wasthe matter, was indisposed; and foreseeing that she should not have aday's health all the autumn, entreated, or rather required her, for itwas hardly entreaty, to come to Uppercross Cottage, and bear hercompany as long as she should want her, instead of going to Bath.

”I cannot possibly do without Anne,” was Mary's reasoning; andElizabeth's reply was, ”Then I am sure Anne had better stay, for nobodywill want her in Bath.”

To be claimed as a good, though in an improper style, is at leastbetter than being rejected as no good at all; and Anne, glad to bethought of some use, glad to have anything marked out as a duty, andcertainly not sorry to have the scene of it in the country, and her owndear country, readily agreed to stay.

This invitation of Mary's removed all Lady Russell's difficulties, andit was consequently soon settled that Anne should not go to Bath tillLady Russell took her, and that all the intervening time should bedivided between Uppercross Cottage and Kellynch Lodge.

So far all was perfectly right; but Lady Russell was almost startled bythe wrong of one part of the Kellynch Hall plan, when it burst on her,which was, Mrs Clay's being engaged to go to Bath with Sir Walter andElizabeth, as a most important and valuable assistant to the latter inall the business before her. Lady Russell was extremely sorry thatsuch a measure should have been resorted to at all, wondered, grieved,and feared; and the affront it contained to Anne, in Mrs Clay's beingof so much use, while Anne could be of none, was a very soreaggravation.

Anne herself was become hardened to such affronts; but she felt theimprudence of the arrangement quite as keenly as Lady Russell. With agreat deal of quiet observation, and a knowledge, which she oftenwished less, of her father's character, she was sensible that resultsthe most serious to his family from the intimacy were more thanpossible. She did not imagine that her father had at present an ideaof the kind. Mrs Clay had freckles, and a projecting tooth, and aclumsy wrist, which he was continually making severe remarks upon, inher absence; but she was young, and certainly altogether well-looking,and possessed, in an acute mind and assiduous pleasing manners,infinitely more dangerous attractions than any merely personal mighthave been. Anne was so impressed by the degree of their danger, thatshe could not excuse herself from trying to make it perceptible to hersister. She had little hope of success; but Elizabeth, who in theevent of such a reverse would be so much more to be pitied thanherself, should never, she thought, have reason to reproach her forgiving no warning.

She spoke, and seemed only to offend. Elizabeth could not conceive howsuch an absurd suspicion should occur to her, and indignantly answeredfor each party's perfectly knowing their situation.

”Mrs Clay,” said she, warmly, ”never forgets who she is; and as I amrather better acquainted with her sentiments than you can be, I canassure you, that upon the subject of marriage they are particularlynice, and that she reprobates all inequality of condition and rank morestrongly than most people. And as to my father, I really should nothave thought that he, who has kept himself single so long for oursakes, need be suspected now. If Mrs Clay were a very beautiful woman,I grant you, it might be wrong to have her so much with me; not thatanything in the world, I am sure, would induce my father to make adegrading match, but he might be rendered unhappy. But poor Mrs Claywho, with all her merits, can never have been reckoned tolerablypretty, I really think poor Mrs Clay may be staying here in perfectsafety. One would imagine you had never heard my father speak of herpersonal misfortunes, though I know you must fifty times. That toothof her's and those freckles. Freckles do not disgust me so very muchas they do him. I have known a face not materially disfigured by afew, but he abominates them. You must have heard him notice Mrs Clay'sfreckles.”

”There is hardly any personal defect,” replied Anne, ”which anagreeable manner might not gradually reconcile one to.”

”I think very differently,” answered Elizabeth, shortly; ”an agreeablemanner may set off handsome features, but can never alter plain ones.However, at any rate, as I have a great deal more at stake on thispoint than anybody else can have, I think it rather unnecessary in youto be advising me.”

Anne had done; glad that it was over, and not absolutely hopeless ofdoing good. Elizabeth, though resenting the suspicion, might yet bemade observant by it.

The last office of the four carriage-horses was to draw Sir Walter,Miss Elliot, and Mrs Clay to Bath. The party drove off in very goodspirits; Sir Walter prepared with condescending bows for all theafflicted tenantry and cottagers who might have had a hint to showthemselves, and Anne walked up at the same time, in a sort of desolatetranquillity, to the Lodge, where she was to spend the first week.

Her friend was not in better spirits than herself. Lady Russell feltthis break-up of the family exceedingly. Their respectability was asdear to her as her own, and a daily intercourse had become precious byhabit. It was painful to look upon their deserted grounds, and stillworse to anticipate the new hands they were to fall into; and to escapethe solitariness and the melancholy of so altered a village, and be outof the way when Admiral and Mrs Croft first arrived, she had determinedto make her own absence from home begin when she must give up Anne.Accordingly their removal was made together, and Anne was set down atUppercross Cottage, in the first stage of Lady Russell's journey.

Uppercross was a moderate-sized village, which a few years back hadbeen completely in the old English style, containing only two housessuperior in appearance to those of the yeomen and labourers; themansion of the squire, with its high walls, great gates, and old trees,substantial and unmodernized, and the compact, tight parsonage,enclosed in its own neat garden, with a vine and a pear-tree trainedround its casements; but upon the marriage of the young 'squire, it hadreceived the improvement of a farm-house elevated into a cottage, forhis residence, and Uppercross Cottage, with its veranda, Frenchwindows, and other prettiness, was quite as likely to catch thetraveller's eye as the more consistent and considerable aspect andpremises of the Great House, about a quarter of a mile farther on.

Here Anne had often been staying. She knew the ways of Uppercross aswell as those of Kellynch. The two families were so continuallymeeting, so much in the habit of running in and out of each other'shouse at all hours, that it was rather a surprise to her to find Maryalone; but being alone, her being unwell and out of spirits was almosta matter of course. Though better endowed than the elder sister, Maryhad not Anne's understanding nor temper. While well, and happy, andproperly attended to, she had great good humour and excellent spirits;but any indisposition sunk her completely. She had no resources forsolitude; and inheriting a considerable share of the Elliotself-importance, was very prone to add to every other distress that offancying herself neglected and ill-used. In person, she was inferior toboth sisters, and had, even in her bloom, only reached the dignity ofbeing ”a fine girl.” She was now lying on the faded sofa of the prettylittle drawing-room, the once elegant furniture of which had beengradually growing shabby, under the influence of four summers and twochildren; and, on Anne's appearing, greeted her with--

”So, you are come at last! I began to think I should never see you. Iam so ill I can hardly speak. I have not seen a creature the wholemorning!”

”I am sorry to find you unwell,” replied Anne. ”You sent me such agood account of yourself on Thursday!”

”Yes, I made the best of it; I always do: but I was very far from wellat the time; and I do not think I ever was so ill in my life as I havebeen all this morning: very unfit to be left alone, I am sure.Suppose I were to be seized of a sudden in some dreadful way, and notable to ring the bell! So, Lady Russell would not get out. I do notthink she has been in this house three times this summer.”

Anne said what was proper, and enquired after her husband. ”Oh!Charles is out shooting. I have not seen him since seven o'clock. Hewould go, though I told him how ill I was. He said he should not stayout long; but he has never come back, and now it is almost one. Iassure you, I have not seen a soul this whole long morning.”

”You have had your little boys with you?”

”Yes, as long as I could bear their noise; but they are so unmanageablethat they do me more harm than good. Little Charles does not mind aword I say, and Walter is growing quite as bad.”

”Well, you will soon be better now,” replied Anne, cheerfully. ”Youknow I always cure you when I come. How are your neighbours at theGreat House?”

”I can give you no account of them. I have not seen one of themto-day, except Mr Musgrove, who just stopped and spoke through thewindow, but without getting off his horse; and though I told him howill I was, not one of them have been near me. It did not happen tosuit the Miss Musgroves, I suppose, and they never put themselves outof their way.”

”You will see them yet, perhaps, before the morning is gone. It isearly.”

”I never want them, I assure you. They talk and laugh a great deal toomuch for me. Oh! Anne, I am so very unwell! It was quite unkind ofyou not to come on Thursday.”

”My dear Mary, recollect what a comfortable account you sent me ofyourself! You wrote in the cheerfullest manner, and said you wereperfectly well, and in no hurry for me; and that being the case, youmust be aware that my wish would be to remain with Lady Russell to thelast: and besides what I felt on her account, I have really been sobusy, have had so much to do, that I could not very conveniently haveleft Kellynch sooner.”

”Dear me! what can you possibly have to do?”

”A great many things, I assure you. More than I can recollect in amoment; but I can tell you some. I have been making a duplicate of thecatalogue of my father's books and pictures. I have been several timesin the garden with Mackenzie, trying to understand, and make himunderstand, which of Elizabeth's plants are for Lady Russell. I havehad all my own little concerns to arrange, books and music to divide,and all my trunks to repack, from not having understood in time whatwas intended as to the waggons: and one thing I have had to do, Mary,of a more trying nature: going to almost every house in the parish, asa sort of take-leave. I was told that they wished it. But all thesethings took up a great deal of time.”

”Oh! well!” and after a moment's pause, ”but you have never asked meone word about our dinner at the Pooles yesterday.”

”Did you go then? I have made no enquiries, because I concluded youmust have been obliged to give up the party.”

”Oh yes! I went. I was very well yesterday; nothing at all the matterwith me till this morning. It would have been strange if I had notgone.”

”I am very glad you were well enough, and I hope you had a pleasantparty.”

”Nothing remarkable. One always knows beforehand what the dinner willbe, and who will be there; and it is so very uncomfortable not having acarriage of one's own. Mr and Mrs Musgrove took me, and we were socrowded! They are both so very large, and take up so much room; and MrMusgrove always sits forward. So, there was I, crowded into the backseat with Henrietta and Louisa; and I think it very likely that myillness to-day may be owing to it.”

A little further perseverance in patience and forced cheerfulness onAnne's side produced nearly a cure on Mary's. She could soon situpright on the sofa, and began to hope she might be able to leave it bydinner-time. Then, forgetting to think of it, she was at the other endof the room, beautifying a nosegay; then, she ate her cold meat; andthen she was well enough to propose a little walk.

”Where shall we go?” said she, when they were ready. ”I suppose youwill not like to call at the Great House before they have been to seeyou?”

”I have not the smallest objection on that account,” replied Anne. ”Ishould never think of standing on such ceremony with people I know sowell as Mrs and the Miss Musgroves.”

”Oh! but they ought to call upon you as soon as possible. They oughtto feel what is due to you as my sister. However, we may as well goand sit with them a little while, and when we have that over, we canenjoy our walk.”

Anne had always thought such a style of intercourse highly imprudent;but she had ceased to endeavour to check it, from believing that,though there were on each side continual subjects of offence, neitherfamily could now do without it. To the Great House accordingly theywent, to sit the full half hour in the old-fashioned square parlour,with a small carpet and shining floor, to which the present daughtersof the house were gradually giving the proper air of confusion by agrand piano-forte and a harp, flower-stands and little tables placed inevery direction. Oh! could the originals of the portraits against thewainscot, could the gentlemen in brown velvet and the ladies in bluesatin have seen what was going on, have been conscious of such anoverthrow of all order and neatness! The portraits themselves seemedto be staring in astonishment.

The Musgroves, like their houses, were in a state of alteration,perhaps of improvement. The father and mother were in the old Englishstyle, and the young people in the new. Mr and Mrs Musgrove were avery good sort of people; friendly and hospitable, not much educated,and not at all elegant. Their children had more modern minds andmanners. There was a numerous family; but the only two grown up,excepting Charles, were Henrietta and Louisa, young ladies of nineteenand twenty, who had brought from school at Exeter all the usual stockof accomplishments, and were now like thousands of other young ladies,living to be fashionable, happy, and merry. Their dress had everyadvantage, their faces were rather pretty, their spirits extremelygood, their manner unembarrassed and pleasant; they were of consequenceat home, and favourites abroad. Anne always contemplated them as someof the happiest creatures of her acquaintance; but still, saved as weall are, by some comfortable feeling of superiority from wishing forthe possibility of exchange, she would not have given up her own moreelegant and cultivated mind for all their enjoyments; and envied themnothing but that seemingly perfect good understanding and agreementtogether, that good-humoured mutual affection, of which she had knownso little herself with either of her sisters.

They were received with great cordiality. Nothing seemed amiss on theside of the Great House family, which was generally, as Anne very wellknew, the least to blame. The half hour was chatted away pleasantlyenough; and she was not at all surprised, at the end of it, to havetheir walking party joined by both the Miss Musgroves, at Mary'sparticular invitation.