Affectionate mother though she was, Mrs. Dashwood rejoiced in
Margaret’s departure. She had looked so thin, so weary, and so low
in spirits since her illness that the sight of her was a continual
distress to her mother, who knew not what to do to help her.
Elinor’s visit had coincided with a loss of confidence with Margaret
of which no explanation had occurred to her mother. She did not know
that she had been quoted to Margaret as reprobating instability in her
friend and that so unjust and unnecessary a condemnation had been with
reason resented. Mrs. Dashwood not only did not know that this remark
had been repeated, she did not know that it had been made. She did,
however, realize that Elinor and Margaret had no great affection for
each other, beyond that proper to the tie of relationship. They were
sisters, but they were not friends, and Mrs. Dashwood was conscious
that she preferred their society one at a time. Marianne and Margaret
had much more in common, and would be happy together, and when her
Elinor had gone her Margaret would come back and all would be as
before, if not more delightful than ever. Mrs. Dashwood was usually
able to look forward to perfect bliss.
Sir John’s departure had begun the break-up of the party at the Park.
Mrs. Jennings returned to London, taking Miss Steele with her, and Lady
Middleton and the children were to follow her thither in a few days.
The frequent visiting and invitations from the Park now ceased. Mr.
Atherton did not intend neglect, but he was so much engaged in going
to Newton Hall that he came to the Cottage not more than thrice in the
week. Mary Whitaker was, however, a constant visitor, and could be
depended on to bring news of the outer world.
Mr. Willoughby’s reappearance in the neighbourhood after four years of
absence had been the subject of some comment. It was known that at one
time he had enjoyed the favour of old Mrs. Smith of Allenham Court,
that he had paid yearly visits to her, and that she had been heard
to speak of him as her heir. Then the time came when the servants at
Allenham had reported to their acquaintances in Barton village that
the old lady had taken a dislike to Mr. John, and for several years
he had not come near the place. Last spring he was there again, and
Mrs. Willoughby with him, and Mrs. Smith seemed fully as fond of him
as ever before, though she had not taken to the lady. Mr. John had a
way with him that pleased the old mistress, and when she was taken
ill later in the summer it was “John! John! John!” she must have, and
no one else would do. He had come, and she had rallied and got about
again, and before he went away Mr. John had promised he would come if
ever she wanted him, no matter where he was. Little did he think he
would only see her again in her coffin! But so it was! Mrs. Smith’s
own maid had gone into her bedroom as she always did to draw the
blinds, and it gave her a turn to see how white the mistress looked
there on the pillow, and she did but touch her hand, and it was cold
as death--and well it might be cold, for the old lady was dead, and
though they sent for the apothecary he could do nothing but send for
her lawyer, and he it was that had sent for Mr. John. Such was the tale
known to the village, and brought to Mrs. Dashwood by Mary Whitaker,
who had it from Mrs. Brent at the shop.
It was possible therefore that in the future the Willoughbys would be
the near neighbours of the ladies at Barton Cottage unless Allenham
Court were sold or let, which, as Elinor pointed out, was at least
possible. Mrs. Dashwood rejoiced in her forethought in again admitting
Mr. Willoughby to their acquaintance, for nothing could be more
uncomfortable than to be constantly avoiding him. Elinor could not but
think that the Willoughbys would have been less likely to settle at
Allenham Court if her mother and Margaret had been unforgiving.
At present all was surmise, for the intelligence received had its
source in the servants’ hall at the Court, and trickled through various
channels before reaching the Cottage.
The funeral was not long past before a more trustworthy informant
arrived to give them fuller particulars. Mrs. Dashwood and Elinor were
sitting together in the parlour when “Mr. Willoughby” was announced,
and he followed Thomas into the room with his old impetuosity.
He took Mrs. Dashwood’s hand--she could not withhold it--and pressed it
in his. He bowed to Elinor, who made a slight movement of greeting, but
it was to Mrs. Dashwood that he addressed himself. He came to tell her,
what she already knew, that he was the new owner of Allenham. He spoke
of his shame at having forfeited her friendship, his desire for its
renewal, his intention of spending some months every year at Allenham,
and his fear lest this should be displeasing to her, though it appeared
so desirable to himself. He hoped she would visit his wife, but feared
he was asking too much. He ceased--and Mrs. Dashwood could make her
reply. It was such as might be expected by those who knew her. She saw
no reason why they should not be neighbours. She would have pleasure in
making Mrs. Willoughby’s acquaintance. There was nothing in the past to
be regretted. All had turned out for the best.
“No, no, madam! That I cannot allow. Best for Marianne, no doubt! It
could not be well for her to depend for her happiness on such a one as
myself. But for me? No, no! I protest, my regrets must be lifelong, and
not the less for being deserved.”
Mrs. Dashwood could not but smile at such disarming humility and,
with the comfortable adage that bygones should be bygones, changed
the conversation by an inquiry as to the details of Mrs. Smith’s last
illness. It was hoped that she did not suffer. He replied suitably,
and with the appearance of feeling; and, taking the hint that no
further reference to the past was desired, he began to discuss the
neighbourhood, the improvements he intended, the tenants of the various
farms, and spoke of Grice’s farm as one that was in good order and
occupied by valuable tenants.
“I happened to go there in July for a friend’s address, and had a look
round the place and a chat with Mrs. Grice. My friend was staying
there last April, but, unfortunately, though I was then at Allenham, I
did not know of his being so near until he was gone. I heard he was in
the Baltic, but had to get the name of the sloop he is commanding. Did
you happen to hear of him? Pennington is his name.”
Mrs. Dashwood remarked that he had dined at the Park.
“Yes, that is how I heard of his visit. I was amazingly disappointed,
for I should like of all things to see him again. These naval officers
are for ever slipping through one’s fingers.”
“How did you make his acquaintance?” asked Elinor. She had not spoken
before this, and Willoughby started slightly, but turned to her, all
attention.
“I met him fairly often at his club playing cards,” he replied. “I
preferred to have him as a partner rather than as an opponent, so you
can guess the degree of his proficiency. He is well known at the club,
and generally liked. I am only one of his admirers.”
Elinor was satisfied with this reply. It confirmed her opinion that
Commander Pennington was all he ought not to be, and she felt a slight
relenting towards Willoughby for having furnished this information. Her
mother saw with amusement how the conversation affected her, but did
not pursue it.
Willoughby inquired for Margaret, and learnt that she was quite
recovered, was at Delaford with Mrs. Brandon, and was not expected home
for some weeks. He thought the air of Delaford--and the society--likely
to be of great benefit, and mentioned the theatricals with just enough
of wit and sense and not too much of either; spoke of Mr. Atherton’s
approaching marriage, and commended his choice; alluded to his regret
that Margaret had been unable to take the part of Sabrina, admired her
voice, compared it, again with a sigh, to Mrs. Brandon’s. Mrs. Dashwood
was about to weary of his conversation when he got up to take leave,
expressing his sincere gratitude for the graciousness of his reception.