Chapter 5

by Jane Austen

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

　　This meeting of the two parties proved highly satisfactory,and decided the whole business at once. Each lady was previouslywell disposed for an agreement, and saw nothing, therefore,but good manners in the other; and with regard to the gentlemen,there was such an hearty good humour, such an open, trusting liberalityon the Admiral's side, as could not but influence Sir Walter,who had besides been flattered into his very best and most polishedbehaviour by Mr Shepherd's assurances of his being known, by report,to the Admiral, as a model of good breeding.

　　The house and grounds, and furniture, were approved, the Croftswere approved, terms, time, every thing, and every body, was right;and Mr Shepherd's clerks were set to work, without there having beena single preliminary difference to modify of all that"This indenture sheweth."

　　Sir Walter, without hesitation, declared the Admiral to bethe best-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 should not be ashamed of being seen with him any where;and the Admiral, with sympathetic cordiality, observed to his wifeas they drove back through the park, "I thought we should sooncome to a deal, my dear, in spite of what they told us at Taunton.The Baronet will never set the Thames on fire, but there seems to beno harm in him." reciprocal compliments, which would have beenesteemed about equal.

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

　　Lady Russell, convinced that Anne would not be allowed to be of any use,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 engagementsof her own which must take her from Kellynch for several weeks,she was unable to give the full invitation she wished, and Annethough dreading the possible heats of September in all the white glareof Bath, and grieving to forego all the influence so sweet and so sadof the autumnal months in the country, did not think that,everything considered, she wished to remain. It would be most right,and most wise, and, therefore must involve least sufferingto go with the others.

　　Something occurred, however, to give her a different duty.Mary, often a little unwell, and always thinking a great dealof her own complaints, and always in the habit of claiming Annewhen anything was the matter, was indisposed; and foreseeingthat she should not have a day's health all the autumn, entreated,or rather required her, for it was hardly entreaty, to come toUppercross Cottage, and bear her company as long as she should want her,instead of going to Bath.

　　"I cannot possibly do without Anne," was Mary's reasoning;and Elizabeth's reply was, "Then I am sure Anne had better stay,for nobody will 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 tobe thought of some use, glad to have anything marked out as a duty,and certainly not sorry to have the scene of it in the country,and her own dear country, readily agreed to stay.

　　This invitation of Mary's removed all Lady Russell's difficulties,and it was consequently soon settled that Anne should not go to Bathtill Lady Russell took her, and that all the intervening timeshould be divided between Uppercross Cottage and Kellynch Lodge.

　　So far all was perfectly right; but Lady Russell was almost startledby the 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 Walterand Elizabeth, as a most important and valuable assistant to the latterin all the business before her. Lady Russell was extremely sorrythat such a measure should have been resorted to at all, wondered,grieved, and feared; and the affront it contained to Anne,in Mrs Clay's being of so much use, while Anne could be of none,was a very sore aggravation.

　　Anne herself was become hardened to such affronts; but she feltthe imprudence of the arrangement quite as keenly as Lady Russell.With a great deal of quiet observation, and a knowledge,which she often wished less, of her father's character, she wassensible that results the most serious to his family from the intimacywere more than possible. She did not imagine that her fatherhad at present an idea of the kind. Mrs Clay had freckles,and a projecting tooth, and a clumsy wrist, which he was continuallymaking severe remarks upon, in her absence; but she was young,and certainly altogether well-looking, and possessed, in an acute mindand assiduous pleasing manners, infinitely more dangerous attractionsthan any merely personal might have been. Anne was so impressedby the degree of their danger, that she could not excuse herselffrom trying to make it perceptible to her sister. She had little hopeof success; but Elizabeth, who in the event of such a reverse would beso much more to be pitied than herself, should never, she thought,have reason to reproach her for giving no warning.

　　She spoke, and seemed only to offend. Elizabeth could not conceivehow such an absurd suspicion should occur to her, and indignantlyanswered for each party's perfectly knowing their situation.

　　"Mrs Clay," said she, warmly, "never forgets who she is;and as I am rather better acquainted with her sentiments than you can be,I can assure you, that upon the subject of marriage they areparticularly nice, and that she reprobates all inequality of conditionand rank more strongly than most people. And as to my father,I really should not have thought that he, who has kept himself singleso long for our sakes, need be suspected now. If Mrs Clay werea very beautiful woman, I grant you, it might be wrong to have herso much with me; not that anything in the world, I am sure,would induce my father to make a degrading match, but he mightbe rendered unhappy. But poor Mrs Clay who, with all her merits,can never have been reckoned tolerably pretty, I really think poorMrs Clay may be staying here in perfect safety. One would imagineyou had never heard my father speak of her personal misfortunes,though I know you must fifty times. That tooth of her'sand those freckles. Freckles do not disgust me so very muchas they do him. I have known a face not materially disfigured by a few,but he abominates them. You must have heard him noticeMrs Clay's freckles."

　　"There is hardly any personal defect," replied Anne,"which an agreeable manner might not gradually reconcile one to."

　　"I think very differently," answered Elizabeth, shortly;"an agreeable manner may set off handsome features, but can neveralter plain ones. However, at any rate, as I have a great deal moreat stake on this point than anybody else can have, I think itrather unnecessary in you to be advising me."

　　Anne had done; glad that it was over, and not absolutely hopelessof doing good. Elizabeth, though resenting the suspicion,might yet be made 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 good spirits;Sir Walter prepared with condescending bows for all the afflictedtenantry and cottagers who might have had a hint to show themselves,and Anne walked up at the same time, in a sort of desolate tranquillity,to the Lodge, where she was to spend the first week.

　　Her friend was not in better spirits than herself. Lady Russell felt thisbreak-up of the family exceedingly. Their respectability wasas dear to her as her own, and a daily intercourse had becomeprecious by habit. It was painful to look upon their deserted grounds,and still worse to anticipate the new hands they were to fall into;and to escape the solitariness and the melancholy of so altered a village,and be out of the way when Admiral and Mrs Croft first arrived,she had determined to make her own absence from home beginwhen she must give up Anne. Accordingly their removal was made together,and Anne was set down at Uppercross Cottage, in the first stageof Lady Russell's journey.

　　Uppercross was a moderate-sized village, which a few years backhad been completely in the old English style, containing onlytwo houses superior in appearance to those of the yeomen and labourers;the mansion 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-treetrained round its casements; but upon the marriage of the young 'squire,it had received the improvement of a farm-house elevated into a cottage,for his residence, and Uppercross Cottage, with its veranda,French windows, and other prettiness, was quite as likely to catchthe traveller's eye as the more consistent and considerable aspectand premises of the Great House, about a quarter of a mile farther on.

　　Here Anne had often been staying. She knew the ways of Uppercrossas well as those of Kellynch. The two families were so continually meeting,so much in the habit of running in and out of each other's houseat all hours, that it was rather a surprise to her to find Mary alone;but being alone, her being unwell and out of spirits was almosta matter of course. Though better endowed than the elder sister,Mary had not Anne's understanding nor temper. While well, and happy,and properly attended to, she had great good humour and excellent spirits;but any indisposition sunk her completely. She had no resourcesfor solitude; and inheriting a considerable share of the Elliotself-importance, was very prone to add to every other distressthat of fancying herself neglected and ill-used. In person, she wasinferior to both sisters, and had, even in her bloom, only reachedthe dignity of being "a fine girl." She was now lying on the faded sofaof the pretty little drawing-room, the once elegant furniture of whichhad been gradually growing shabby, under the influence of four summersand two children; and, on Anne's appearing, greeted her with--

　　"So, you are come at last! I began to think I should never see you.I am so ill I can hardly speak. I have not seen a creaturethe whole morning!"

　　"I am sorry to find you unwell," replied Anne. "You sent mesuch a good 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 lifeas I have been 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 not able to ring the bell! So, Lady Russell would not get out.I do not think 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.He would go, though I told him how ill I was. He said he should notstay out long; but he has never come back, and now it is almost one.I assure 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 minda word I say, and Walter is growing quite as bad."

　　"Well, you will soon be better now," replied Anne, cheerfully."You know I always cure you when I come. How are your neighboursat the Great House?"

　　"I can give you no account of them. I have not seen one of them to-day,except Mr Musgrove, who just stopped and spoke through the window,but without getting off his horse; and though I told him how ill I was,not one of them have been near me. It did not happen to suitthe Miss Musgroves, I suppose, and they never put themselvesout of their way."

　　"You will see them yet, perhaps, before the morning is gone.It is early."

　　"I never want them, I assure you. They talk and laugh a great dealtoo much for me. Oh! Anne, I am so very unwell! It was quite unkindof you not to come on Thursday."

　　"My dear Mary, recollect what a comfortable account you sent me of yourself!You wrote in the cheerfullest manner, and said you were perfectly well,and in no hurry for me; and that being the case, you must be awarethat my wish would be to remain with Lady Russell to the last:and besides what I felt on her account, I have really been so busy,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 recollectin a moment; but I can tell you some. I have been makinga duplicate of the catalogue of my father's books and pictures.I have been several times in the garden with Mackenzie,trying to understand, and make him understand, which of Elizabeth's plantsare for Lady Russell. I have had all my own little concernsto arrange, books and music to divide, and all my trunks to repack,from not having understood in time what was 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, as a sort of take-leave.I was told that they wished it. But all these things took upa 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 concludedyou must have been obliged to give up the party."

　　"Oh yes! I went. I was very well yesterday; nothing at allthe matter with me till this morning. It would have been strangeif I had not gone."

　　"I am very glad you were well enough, and I hope you had a pleasant party."

　　"Nothing remarkable. One always knows beforehand what the dinner will be,and who will be there; and it is so very uncomfortable not havinga carriage of one's own. Mr and Mrs Musgrove took me, and we wereso crowded! They are both so very large, and take up so much room;and Mr Musgrove always sits forward. So, there was I, crowded intothe back seat with Henrietta and Louise; and I think it very likelythat my illness to-day may be owing to it."

　　A little further perseverance in patience and forced cheerfulnesson Anne's side produced nearly a cure on Mary's. She could soonsit upright on the sofa, and began to hope she might be ableto leave it by dinner-time. Then, forgetting to think of it,she was at the other end of the room, beautifying a nosegay;then, she ate her cold meat; and then she was well enoughto propose a little walk.

　　"Where shall we go?" said she, when they were ready. "I supposeyou will not like to call at the Great House before they havebeen to see you?"

　　"I have not the smallest objection on that account," replied Anne."I should never think of standing on such ceremony with people I knowso well as Mrs and the Miss Musgroves."

　　"Oh! but they ought to call upon you as soon as possible.They ought to feel what is due to you as my sister. However,we may as well go and sit with them a little while, and when wehave that over, we can enjoy 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,neither family could now do without it. To the Great House accordinglythey went, to sit the full half hour in the old-fashioned square parlour,with a small carpet and shining floor, to which the presentdaughters of the house were gradually giving the proper air of confusionby a grand piano-forte and a harp, flower-stands and little tablesplaced in every direction. Oh! could the originals of the portraitsagainst the wainscot, could the gentlemen in brown velvet andthe ladies in blue satin have seen what was going on, have been consciousof such an overthrow of all order and neatness! The portraits themselvesseemed to 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 oldEnglish style, and the young people in the new. Mr and Mrs Musgrovewere a very good sort of people; friendly and hospitable,not much educated, and not at all elegant. Their children hadmore modern minds and manners. There was a numerous family;but the only two grown up, excepting Charles, were Henrietta and Louisa,young ladies of nineteen and twenty, who had brought from school at Exeterall the usual stock of accomplishments, and were now like thousandsof other young ladies, living to be fashionable, happy, and merry.Their dress had every advantage, their faces were rather pretty,their spirits extremely good, their manner unembarrassed and pleasant;they were of consequence at home, and favourites abroad.Anne always contemplated them as some of the happiest creaturesof her acquaintance; but still, saved as we all are, by somecomfortable feeling of superiority from wishing for the possibilityof exchange, she would not have given up her own more elegantand cultivated mind for all their enjoyments; and envied them nothingbut that seemingly perfect good understanding and agreement together,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 amisson the side of the Great House family, which was generally,as Anne very well knew, the least to blame. The half hour waschatted away pleasantly enough; and she was not at all surprisedat the end of it, to have their walking party joined by boththe Miss Musgroves, at Mary's particular invitation.