A grand triumph is provided for Sir Walter and his eldest daughter,
which in the meantime may happily prove a distraction and protection
to the former from the arts of Mrs. Clay. “The Bath paper one morning
announced the arrival of the Dowager Viscountess Dalrymple and her
daughter, the Honourable Miss Carteret, and all the comfort of No. --,
Camden Place, was swept away for many days; for the Dalrymples (in
Anne’s opinion, most unfortunately) were cousins of the Elliots, and
the agony was how to introduce themselves properly.”
The feat is accomplished, and the Elliots visit in Laura Place, where
the Dowager Viscountess has established herself. They have the cards
of the Dowager Viscountess Dalrymple and the Honourable Miss Carteret
to be arranged wherever they may be most visible, and “our cousins
in Laura Place,” “our cousins Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret,” are
talked of to everybody.
While Sir Walter and Elizabeth Elliot are sedulously cultivating their
noble cousins, Anne, in broad contrast to her father and sister,
is gladly renewing her acquaintance with an old schoolfellow whom
she discovers in Bath in reduced circumstances: Mrs. Smith, as Miss
Hamilton, had been kind to Anne Elliot, and now it is Anne’s turn to
repay the kindness. Mrs. Smith is a widow, and poor. She is also for
the present a complete cripple from the effects of rheumatic fever,
though she is not more than thirty-one years of age. She has come to
Bath on account of her lameness, and is living in a humble way near
the hot baths. A mutual friend makes Anne acquainted with the position
of her former schoolfellow. The first meeting is awkward and painful.
Twelve years have changed Anne from the blooming, silent, unformed
girl of fifteen, to the elegant little woman of eight-and-twenty;
and twelve years have transformed the fine-looking, well-grown Miss
Hamilton, in all the glow of health and confidence of prosperity, into
a poor, infirm, helpless widow.
But soon the old interest which the girl-friends had felt in each
other, revives. Anne finds Mrs. Smith sensible and agreeable, and has
reason to admire in her “that elasticity of spirit, that disposition
to be comforted, that power of turning readily from evil to good, and
of finding employment out of herself, which is the choicest gift of
Heaven.”[76]
It is February, a month since Anne had come to Bath. She is eager for
news from Uppercross, when a thicker letter than usual is delivered to
her from Mary, with Admiral and Mrs. Croft’s compliments. The Crofts
must be in Bath.
Mary begins in her usual strain, with many grievances, congratulating
herself, however, that the holidays are over. She believes no children
ever had such long holidays as the young Musgroves have. The carriage
has gone that day to bring Louisa and the Harvilles on the following
day. Charles and Mary are not invited to dine with them, however,
till the day after, and so on, to the close. But Mary has put the
letter into an envelope containing as much more writing, which like
the typical postscript is the cream of the epistle:--“I have something
to communicate that will astonish you not a little. She (Louisa) and
the Harvilles came on Tuesday very safely, and in the evening we
went to ask how she did; when we were rather surprised not to find
Captain Benwick of the party, for he had been invited as well as the
Harvilles; and what do you think was the reason? Neither more nor
less than his being in love with Louisa, and not choosing to venture
to Uppercross till he had had an answer from Mr. Musgrove; for it
was all settled between him and her before she came away, and he had
written to her father by Captain Harville. True, upon my honour! Are
you not astonished? I shall be surprised at least if you ever received
a hint of it, for I never did. Mrs. Musgrove protests solemnly that
she knew nothing of the matter. We are all very well pleased, however;
for though it is not equal to her marrying Captain Wentworth, it is
infinitely better than Charles Hayter; and Mr. Musgrove has written his
consent, and Captain Benwick is expected to-day. Mrs. Harville says her
husband feels a good deal on his poor sister’s account; but, however,
Louisa is a great favourite with both. Indeed, Mrs. Harville and I
quite agree that we love her the better for having nursed her. Charles
wonders what Captain Wentworth will say; but if you remember I never
thought him attached to Louisa; I never could see anything of it. And
this is the end, you see, of Captain Benwick’s being supposed to be an
admirer of yours. How Charles could take such a thing into his head was
always incomprehensible to me. I hope he will be more agreeable now.
Certainly not a great match for Louisa Musgrove, but a million times
better than marrying amongst the Hayters.”
“Mary need not have feared her sister’s being in any degree prepared
for the news. She had never in her life been more astonished. Captain
Benwick and Louisa Musgrove! It was almost too wonderful for belief,
and it was with the greatest effort that she could remain in the room,
preserve an air of calmness, and endure the common questions of the
moment.”
“In her own room she tried to comprehend it. Well might Charles wonder
how Captain Wentworth would feel! Perhaps he had quitted the field, had
given Louisa up, had ceased to love, had found he did not love her. She
could not endure the idea of treachery or levity, or anything akin to
ill-usage between him and his friend.”
“Captain Benwick and Louisa Musgrove! The high-spirited, joyous,
talking Louisa Musgrove, and the dejected, thinking, feeling, reading
Captain Benwick, seemed each of them everything that would not suit
the other. Their minds must be dissimilar! Where could have been the
attraction? The answer soon presented itself: it had been in situation.
They had been thrown together several weeks; they had been living in
the same small family party. Since Henrietta’s coming away, they must
have been depending almost entirely on each other, and Louisa, just
recovering from illness, had been in an interesting state, and Captain
Benwick was not inconsolable.
“She saw no reason against their being happy. Louisa had fine naval
fervour to begin with, and they would soon grow more alike. He would
gain cheerfulness, and she would have to be an enthusiast for Scott and
Lord Byron; nay, that was probably learnt already: of course they had
fallen in love over poetry. The idea of Louisa Musgrove turned into
a person of literary taste and sentimental reflection was amusing,
but she had no doubt of its being so. The day at Lyme, the fall from
the Cobbe, might influence her health, her nerves, her courage, her
character to the end of her life, as thoroughly as it appeared to have
influenced her fate.”[77]