Sense and Sensibility
“Oh! pray, Miss Margaret, let us know all about it,” said Mrs.
Jennings. “What is the gentleman’s name?”
“I must not tell, ma’am. But I know very well what it is; and I know
where he is too.”
“Yes, yes, we can guess where he is; at his own house at Norland to be
sure. He is the curate of the parish I dare say.”
“No, _that_ he is not. He is of no profession at all.”
“Margaret,” said Marianne with great warmth, “you know that all this is
an invention of your own, and that there is no such person in
existence.”
“Well, then, he is lately dead, Marianne, for I am sure there was such
a man once, and his name begins with an F.”
Most grateful did Elinor feel to Lady Middleton for observing, at this
moment, “that it rained very hard,” though she believed the
interruption to proceed less from any attention to her, than from her
ladyship’s great dislike of all such inelegant subjects of raillery as
delighted her husband and mother. The idea however started by her, was
immediately pursued by Colonel Brandon, who was on every occasion
mindful of the feelings of others; and much was said on the subject of
rain by both of them. Willoughby opened the piano-forte, and asked
Marianne to sit down to it; and thus amidst the various endeavours of
different people to quit the topic, it fell to the ground. But not so
easily did Elinor recover from the alarm into which it had thrown her.
A party was formed this evening for going on the following day to see a
very fine place about twelve miles from Barton, belonging to a
brother-in-law of Colonel Brandon, without whose interest it could not
be seen, as the proprietor, who was then abroad, had left strict orders
on that head. The grounds were declared to be highly beautiful, and Sir
John, who was particularly warm in their praise, might be allowed to be
a tolerable judge, for he had formed parties to visit them, at least,
twice every summer for the last ten years. They contained a noble piece
of water; a sail on which was to form a great part of the morning’s
amusement; cold provisions were to be taken, open carriages only to be
employed, and every thing conducted in the usual style of a complete
party of pleasure.
To some few of the company it appeared rather a bold undertaking,
considering the time of year, and that it had rained every day for the
last fortnight;—and Mrs. Dashwood, who had already a cold, was
persuaded by Elinor to stay at home.
CHAPTER XIII.
Their intended excursion to Whitwell turned out very different from
what Elinor had expected. She was prepared to be wet through, fatigued,
and frightened; but the event was still more unfortunate, for they did
not go at all.
By ten o’clock the whole party was assembled at the park, where they
were to breakfast. The morning was rather favourable, though it had
rained all night, as the clouds were then dispersing across the sky,
and the sun frequently appeared. They were all in high spirits and good
humour, eager to be happy, and determined to submit to the greatest
inconveniences and hardships rather than be otherwise.
While they were at breakfast the letters were brought in. Among the
rest there was one for Colonel Brandon;—he took it, looked at the
direction, changed colour, and immediately left the room.
“What is the matter with Brandon?” said Sir John.
Nobody could tell.
“I hope he has had no bad news,” said Lady Middleton. “It must be
something extraordinary that could make Colonel Brandon leave my
breakfast table so suddenly.”
In about five minutes he returned.
“No bad news, Colonel, I hope;” said Mrs. Jennings, as soon as he
entered the room.
“None at all, ma’am, I thank you.”
“Was it from Avignon? I hope it is not to say that your sister is
worse.”
“No, ma’am. It came from town, and is merely a letter of business.”
“But how came the hand to discompose you so much, if it was only a
letter of business? Come, come, this won’t do, Colonel; so let us hear
the truth of it.”
“My dear madam,” said Lady Middleton, “recollect what you are saying.”
“Perhaps it is to tell you that your cousin Fanny is married?” said
Mrs. Jennings, without attending to her daughter’s reproof.
“No, indeed, it is not.”
“Well, then, I know who it is from, Colonel. And I hope she is well.”
“Whom do you mean, ma’am?” said he, colouring a little.
“Oh! you know who I mean.”
“I am particularly sorry, ma’am,” said he, addressing Lady Middleton,
“that I should receive this letter today, for it is on business which
requires my immediate attendance in town.”
“In town!” cried Mrs. Jennings. “What can you have to do in town at
this time of year?”
“My own loss is great,” he continued, “in being obliged to leave so
agreeable a party; but I am the more concerned, as I fear my presence
is necessary to gain your admittance at Whitwell.”
What a blow upon them all was this!
“But if you write a note to the housekeeper, Mr. Brandon,” said
Marianne, eagerly, “will it not be sufficient?”
He shook his head.
“We must go,” said Sir John.—“It shall not be put off when we are so
near it. You cannot go to town till tomorrow, Brandon, that is all.”
“I wish it could be so easily settled. But it is not in my power to
delay my journey for one day!”
“If you would but let us know what your business is,” said Mrs.
Jennings, “we might see whether it could be put off or not.”
“You would not be six hours later,” said Willoughby, “if you were to
defer your journey till our return.”
“I cannot afford to lose _one_ hour.”
Elinor then heard Willoughby say, in a low voice to Marianne, “There
are some people who cannot bear a party of pleasure. Brandon is one of
them. He was afraid of catching cold I dare say, and invented this
trick for getting out of it. I would lay fifty guineas the letter was
of his own writing.”
“I have no doubt of it,” replied Marianne.
“There is no persuading you to change your mind, Brandon, I know of
old,” said Sir John, “when once you are determined on anything. But,
however, I hope you will think better of it. Consider, here are the two
Miss Careys come over from Newton, the three Miss Dashwoods walked up
from the cottage, and Mr. Willoughby got up two hours before his usual
time, on purpose to go to Whitwell.”
Colonel Brandon again repeated his sorrow at being the cause of
disappointing the party; but at the same time declared it to be
unavoidable.
“Well, then, when will you come back again?”
“I hope we shall see you at Barton,” added her ladyship, “as soon as
you can conveniently leave town; and we must put off the party to
Whitwell till you return.”
“You are very obliging. But it is so uncertain, when I may have it in
my power to return, that I dare not engage for it at all.”
“Oh! he must and shall come back,” cried Sir John. “If he is not here
by the end of the week, I shall go after him.”
“Ay, so do, Sir John,” cried Mrs. Jennings, “and then perhaps you may
find out what his business is.”
“I do not want to pry into other men’s concerns. I suppose it is
something he is ashamed of.”
Colonel Brandon’s horses were announced.
“You do not go to town on horseback, do you?” added Sir John.
“No. Only to Honiton. I shall then go post.”
“Well, as you are resolved to go, I wish you a good journey. But you
had better change your mind.”
“I assure you it is not in my power.”
He then took leave of the whole party.
“Is there no chance of my seeing you and your sisters in town this
winter, Miss Dashwood?”
“I am afraid, none at all.”
“Then I must bid you farewell for a longer time than I should wish to
do.”
To Marianne, he merely bowed and said nothing.
“Come Colonel,” said Mrs. Jennings, “before you go, do let us know what
you are going about.”
He wished her a good morning, and, attended by Sir John, left the room.
The complaints and lamentations which politeness had hitherto
restrained, now burst forth universally; and they all agreed again and
again how provoking it was to be so disappointed.
“I can guess what his business is, however,” said Mrs. Jennings
exultingly.
“Can you, ma’am?” said almost every body.
“Yes; it is about Miss Williams, I am sure.”
“And who is Miss Williams?” asked Marianne.
“What! do not you know who Miss Williams is? I am sure you must have
heard of her before. She is a relation of the Colonel’s, my dear; a
very near relation. We will not say how near, for fear of shocking the
young ladies.” Then, lowering her voice a little, she said to Elinor,
“She is his natural daughter.”
“Indeed!”
“Oh, yes; and as like him as she can stare. I dare say the Colonel will
leave her all his fortune.”
When Sir John returned, he joined most heartily in the general regret
on so unfortunate an event; concluding however by observing, that as
they were all got together, they must do something by way of being
happy; and after some consultation it was agreed, that although
happiness could only be enjoyed at Whitwell, they might procure a
tolerable composure of mind by driving about the country. The carriages
were then ordered; Willoughby’s was first, and Marianne never looked
happier than when she got into it. He drove through the park very fast,
and they were soon out of sight; and nothing more of them was seen till
their return, which did not happen till after the return of all the
rest. They both seemed delighted with their drive; but said only in
general terms that they had kept in the lanes, while the others went on
the downs.
It was settled that there should be a dance in the evening, and that
every body should be extremely merry all day long. Some more of the
Careys came to dinner, and they had the pleasure of sitting down nearly
twenty to table, which Sir John observed with great contentment.
Willoughby took his usual place between the two elder Miss Dashwoods.
Mrs. Jennings sat on Elinor’s right hand; and they had not been long
seated, before she leant behind her and Willoughby, and said to
Marianne, loud enough for them both to hear, “I have found you out in
spite of all your tricks. I know where you spent the morning.”
Marianne coloured, and replied very hastily, “Where, pray?”
“Did not you know,” said Willoughby, “that we had been out in my
curricle?”
“Yes, yes, Mr. Impudence, I know that very well, and I was determined
to find out _where_ you had been to. I hope you like your house, Miss
Marianne. It is a very large one, I know; and when I come to see you, I
hope you will have new-furnished it, for it wanted it very much when I
was there six years ago.”
Marianne turned away in great confusion. Mrs. Jennings laughed
heartily; and Elinor found that in her resolution to know where they
had been, she had actually made her own woman enquire of Mr.
Willoughby’s groom; and that she had by that method been informed that
they had gone to Allenham, and spent a considerable time there in
walking about the garden and going all over the house.
Elinor could hardly believe this to be true, as it seemed very unlikely
that Willoughby should propose, or Marianne consent, to enter the house
while Mrs. Smith was in it, with whom Marianne had not the smallest
acquaintance.
As soon as they left the dining-room, Elinor enquired of her about it;
and great was her surprise when she found that every circumstance
related by Mrs. Jennings was perfectly true. Marianne was quite angry
with her for doubting it.
“Why should you imagine, Elinor, that we did not go there, or that we
did not see the house? Is not it what you have often wished to do
yourself?”
“Yes, Marianne, but I would not go while Mrs. Smith was there, and with
no other companion than Mr. Willoughby.”
“Mr. Willoughby however is the only person who can have a right to show