CHAPTER XXVI

Elinor could not find herself in the carriage with Mrs. Jennings, and

beginning a journey to London under her protection, and as her guest,

without wondering at her own situation, so short had their

acquaintance with that lady been, so wholly unsuited were they in age

and disposition, and so many had been her objections against such a

measure only a few days before! But these objections had all, with

that happy ardour of youth which Marianne and her mother equally

shared, been overcome or overlooked; and Elinor, in spite of every

occasional doubt of Willoughby's constancy, could not witness the

rapture of delightful expectation which filled the whole soul and

beamed in the eyes of Marianne, without feeling how blank was her own

prospect, how cheerless her own state of mind in the comparison, and

how gladly she would engage in the solicitude of Marianne's situation

to have the same animating object in view, the same possibility of

hope. A short, a very short time however must now decide what

Willoughby's intentions were; in all probability he was already in

town. Marianne's eagerness to be gone declared her dependence on

finding him there; and Elinor was resolved not only upon gaining every

new light as to his character which her own observation or the

intelligence of others could give her, but likewise upon watching his

behaviour to her sister with such zealous attention, as to ascertain

what he was and what he meant, before many meetings had taken place.

Should the result of her observations be unfavourable, she was

determined at all events to open the eyes of her sister; should it be

otherwise, her exertions would be of a different nature--she must then

learn to avoid every selfish comparison, and banish every regret which

might lessen her satisfaction in the happiness of Marianne.

They were three days on their journey, and Marianne's behaviour as

they travelled was a happy specimen of what future complaisance and

companionableness to Mrs. Jennings might be expected to be. She sat in

silence almost all the way, wrapt in her own meditations, and scarcely

ever voluntarily speaking, except when any object of picturesque

beauty within their view drew from her an exclamation of delight

exclusively addressed to her sister. To atone for this conduct

therefore, Elinor took immediate possession of the post of civility

which she had assigned herself, behaved with the greatest attention to

Mrs. Jennings, talked with her, laughed with her, and listened to her

whenever she could; and Mrs. Jennings on her side treated them both

with all possible kindness, was solicitous on every occasion for their

ease and enjoyment, and only disturbed that she could not make them

choose their own dinners at the inn, nor extort a confession of their

preferring salmon to cod, or boiled fowls to veal cutlets. They

reached town by three o'clock the third day, glad to be released,

after such a journey, from the confinement of a carriage, and ready to

enjoy all the luxury of a good fire.

The house was handsome, and handsomely fitted up, and the young

ladies were immediately put in possession of a very comfortable

apartment. It had formerly been Charlotte's, and over the mantelpiece

still hung a landscape in coloured silks of her performance, in proof

of her having spent seven years at a great school in town to some

effect.

As dinner was not to be ready in less than two hours from their

arrival, Elinor determined to employ the interval in writing to her

mother, and sat down for that purpose. In a few moments Marianne did

the same. "I am writing home, Marianne," said Elinor; "had not you

better defer your letter for a day or two?"

"I am _not_ going to write to my mother," replied Marianne, hastily,

and as if wishing to avoid any farther inquiry. Elinor said no more;

it immediately struck her that she must then be writing to Willoughby;

and the conclusion which as instantly followed was, that, however

mysteriously they might wish to conduct the affair, they must be

engaged. This conviction, though not entirely satisfactory, gave her

pleasure, and she continued her letter with greater alacrity.

Marianne's was finished in a very few minutes; in length it could be

no more than a note; it was then folded up, sealed, and directed with

eager rapidity. Elinor thought she could distinguish a large W in the

direction; and no sooner was it complete than Marianne, ringing the

bell, requested the footman who answered it to get that letter

conveyed for her to the two-penny post. This decided the matter at

once.

Her spirits still continued very high; but there was a flutter in them

which prevented their giving much pleasure to her sister, and this

agitation increased as the evening drew on. She could scarcely eat any

dinner, and when they afterwards returned to the drawing room, seemed

anxiously listening to the sound of every carriage.

It was a great satisfaction to Elinor that Mrs. Jennings, by being

much engaged in her own room, could see little of what was passing.

The tea things were brought in, and already had Marianne been

disappointed more than once by a rap at a neighbouring door, when a

loud one was suddenly heard which could not be mistaken for one at any

other house, Elinor felt secure of its announcing Willoughby's

approach, and Marianne, starting up, moved towards the door. Every

thing was silent; this could not be borne many seconds; she opened

the door, advanced a few steps towards the stairs, and after listening

half a minute, returned into the room in all the agitation which a

conviction of having heard him would naturally produce; in the ecstasy

of her feelings at that instant she could not help exclaiming, "Oh,

Elinor, it is Willoughby, indeed it is!" and seemed almost ready to

throw herself into his arms, when Colonel Brandon appeared.

It was too great a shock to be borne with calmness, and she

immediately left the room. Elinor was disappointed too; but at the

same time her regard for Colonel Brandon ensured his welcome with her;

and she felt particularly hurt that a man so partial to her sister

should perceive that she experienced nothing but grief and

disappointment in seeing him. She instantly saw that it was not

unnoticed by him, that he even observed Marianne as she quitted the

room, with such astonishment and concern, as hardly left him the

recollection of what civility demanded towards herself.

"Is your sister ill?" said he.

Elinor answered in some distress that she was, and then talked of

head-aches, low spirits, and over fatigues; and of every thing to

which she could decently attribute her sister's behaviour.

He heard her with the most earnest attention, but seeming to recollect

himself, said no more on the subject, and began directly to speak of

his pleasure at seeing them in London, making the usual inquiries

about their journey, and the friends they had left behind.

In this calm kind of way, with very little interest on either side,

they continued to talk, both of them out of spirits, and the thoughts

of both engaged elsewhere. Elinor wished very much to ask whether

Willoughby were then in town, but she was afraid of giving him pain by

any enquiry after his rival; and at length, by way of saying

something, she asked if he had been in London ever since she had seen

him last. "Yes," he replied, with some embarrassment, "almost ever

since; I have been once or twice at Delaford for a few days, but it

has never been in my power to return to Barton."

This, and the manner in which it was said, immediately brought back to

her remembrance all the circumstances of his quitting that place, with

the uneasiness and suspicions they had caused to Mrs. Jennings, and

she was fearful that her question had implied much more curiosity on

the subject than she had ever felt.

Mrs. Jennings soon came in. "Oh! Colonel," said she, with her usual

noisy cheerfulness, "I am monstrous glad to see you--sorry I could not

come before--beg your pardon, but I have been forced to look about me

a little, and settle my matters; for it is a long while since I have

been at home, and you know one has always a world of little odd things

to do after one has been away for any time; and then I have had

Cartwright to settle with. Lord, I have been as busy as a bee ever

since dinner! But pray, Colonel, how came you to conjure out that I

should be in town today?"

"I had the pleasure of hearing it at Mr. Palmer's, where I have been

dining."

"Oh, you did; well, and how do they all do at their house? How does

Charlotte do? I warrant you she is a fine size by this time."

"Mrs. Palmer appeared quite well, and I am commissioned to tell you,

that you will certainly see her to-morrow."

"Ay, to be sure, I thought as much. Well, Colonel, I have brought two

young ladies with me, you see--that is, you see but one of them now,

but there is another somewhere. Your friend, Miss Marianne, too--which

you will not be sorry to hear. I do not know what you and Mr.

Willoughby will do between you about her. Ay, it is a fine thing to be

young and handsome. Well! I was young once, but I never was very

handsome--worse luck for me. However, I got a very good husband, and I

don't know what the greatest beauty can do more. Ah! poor man! he has

been dead these eight years and better. But Colonel, where have you

been to since we parted? And how does your business go on? Come, come,

let's have no secrets among friends."

He replied with his accustomary mildness to all her inquiries, but

without satisfying her in any. Elinor now began to make the tea, and

Marianne was obliged to appear again.

After her entrance, Colonel Brandon became more thoughtful and silent

than he had been before, and Mrs. Jennings could not prevail on him to

stay long. No other visitor appeared that evening, and the ladies were

unanimous in agreeing to go early to bed.

Marianne rose the next morning with recovered spirits and happy looks.

The disappointment of the evening before seemed forgotten in the

expectation of what was to happen that day. They had not long finished

their breakfast before Mrs. Palmer's barouche stopped at the door, and

in a few minutes she came laughing into the room: so delighted to see

them all, that it was hard to say whether she received most pleasure

from meeting her mother or the Miss Dashwoods again. So surprised at

their coming to town, though it was what she had rather expected all

along; so angry at their accepting her mother's invitation after

having declined her own, though at the same time she would never have

forgiven them if they had not come!

"Mr. Palmer will be so happy to see you," said she; "What do you think

he said when he heard of your coming with Mamma? I forget what it was

now, but it was something so droll!"

After an hour or two spent in what her mother called comfortable chat,

or in other words, in every variety of inquiry concerning all their

acquaintance on Mrs. Jennings's side, and in laughter without cause on

Mrs. Palmer's, it was proposed by the latter that they should all

accompany her to some shops where she had business that morning, to

which Mrs. Jennings and Elinor readily consented, as having likewise

some purchases to make themselves; and Marianne, though declining it

at first was induced to go likewise.

Wherever they went, she was evidently always on the watch. In Bond

Street especially, where much of their business lay, her eyes were in

constant inquiry; and in whatever shop the party were engaged, her

mind was equally abstracted from every thing actually before them,

from all that interested and occupied the others. Restless and

dissatisfied every where, her sister could never obtain her opinion of

any article of purchase, however it might equally concern them both:

she received no pleasure from anything; was only impatient to be at

home again, and could with difficulty govern her vexation at the

tediousness of Mrs. Palmer, whose eye was caught by every thing

pretty, expensive, or new; who was wild to buy all, could determine on

none, and dawdled away her time in rapture and indecision.

It was late in the morning before they returned home; and no sooner

had they entered the house than Marianne flew eagerly up stairs, and

when Elinor followed, she found her turning from the table with a

sorrowful countenance, which declared that no Willoughby had been

there.

"Has no letter been left here for me since we went out?" said she to

the footman who then entered with the parcels. She was answered in the

negative. "Are you quite sure of it?" she replied. "Are you certain

that no servant, no porter has left any letter or note?"

The man replied that none had.

"How very odd!" said she, in a low and disappointed voice, as she

turned away to the window.

"How odd, indeed!" repeated Elinor within herself, regarding her

sister with uneasiness. "If she had not known him to be in town she

would not have written to him, as she did; she would have written to

Combe Magna; and if he is in town, how odd that he should neither come

nor write! Oh! my dear mother, you must be wrong in permitting an

engagement between a daughter so young, a man so little known, to be

carried on in so doubtful, so mysterious a manner! I long to inquire;

and how will _my_ interference be borne."

She determined, after some consideration, that if appearances

continued many days longer as unpleasant as they now were, she would

represent in the strongest manner to her mother the necessity of some

serious enquiry into the affair.

Mrs. Palmer and two elderly ladies of Mrs. Jennings's intimate

acquaintance, whom she had met and invited in the morning, dined with

them. The former left them soon after tea to fulfill her evening

engagements; and Elinor was obliged to assist in making a whist table

for the others. Marianne was of no use on these occasions, as she

would never learn the game; but though her time was therefore at her

own disposal, the evening was by no means more productive of pleasure

to her than to Elinor, for it was spent in all the anxiety of

expectation and the pain of disappointment. She sometimes endeavoured

for a few minutes to read; but the book was soon thrown aside, and she

returned to the more interesting employment of walking backwards and

forwards across the room, pausing for a moment whenever she came to

the window, in hopes of distinguishing the long-expected rap.

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