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CHAPTER 13
The remainder of Anne's time at Uppercross, comprehending only two days, was spent
entirely at the Mansion House; and she had the satisfaction of knowing herself
extremely useful there, both as an
immediate companion, and as assisting in all those arrangements for the future,
which, in Mr and Mrs Musgrove's distressed state of spirits, would have been
difficulties.
They had an early account from Lyme the next morning.
Louisa was much the same. No symptoms worse than before had appeared.
Charles came a few hours afterwards, to bring a later and more particular account.
He was tolerably cheerful.
A speedy cure must not be hoped, but everything was going on as well as the
nature of the case admitted.
In speaking of the Harvilles, he seemed unable to satisfy his own sense of their
kindness, especially of Mrs Harville's exertions as a nurse.
"She really left nothing for Mary to do.
He and Mary had been persuaded to go early to their inn last night.
Mary had been hysterical again this morning.
When he came away, she was going to walk out with Captain Benwick, which, he hoped,
would do her good.
He almost wished she had been prevailed on to come home the day before; but the truth
was, that Mrs Harville left nothing for anybody to do."
Charles was to return to Lyme the same afternoon, and his father had at first half
a mind to go with him, but the ladies could not consent.
It would be going only to multiply trouble to the others, and increase his own
distress; and a much better scheme followed and was acted upon.
A chaise was sent for from Crewkherne, and Charles conveyed back a far more useful
person in the old nursery-maid of the family, one who having brought up all the
children, and seen the very last, the
lingering and long-petted Master Harry, sent to school after his brothers, was now
living in her deserted nursery to mend stockings and dress all the blains and
bruises she could get near her, and who,
consequently, was only too happy in being allowed to go and help nurse dear Miss
Louisa.
Vague wishes of getting Sarah thither, had occurred before to Mrs Musgrove and
Henrietta; but without Anne, it would hardly have been resolved on, and found
practicable so soon.
They were indebted, the next day, to Charles Hayter, for all the minute
knowledge of Louisa, which it was so essential to obtain every twenty-four
hours.
He made it his business to go to Lyme, and his account was still encouraging.
The intervals of sense and consciousness were believed to be stronger.
Every report agreed in Captain Wentworth's appearing fixed in Lyme.
Anne was to leave them on the morrow, an event which they all dreaded.
"What should they do without her?
They were wretched comforters for one another."
And so much was said in this way, that Anne thought she could not do better than impart
among them the general inclination to which she was privy, and persuaded them all to go
to Lyme at once.
She had little difficulty; it was soon determined that they would go; go to-
morrow, fix themselves at the inn, or get into lodgings, as it suited, and there
remain till dear Louisa could be moved.
They must be taking off some trouble from the good people she was with; they might at
least relieve Mrs Harville from the care of her own children; and in short, they were
so happy in the decision, that Anne was
delighted with what she had done, and felt that she could not spend her last morning
at Uppercross better than in assisting their preparations, and sending them off at
an early hour, though her being left to the
solitary range of the house was the consequence.
She was the last, excepting the little boys at the cottage, she was the very last, the
only remaining one of all that had filled and animated both houses, of all that had
given Uppercross its cheerful character.
A few days had made a change indeed! If Louisa recovered, it would all be well
again. More than former happiness would be
restored.
There could not be a doubt, to her mind there was none, of what would follow her
recovery.
A few months hence, and the room now so deserted, occupied but by her silent,
pensive self, might be filled again with all that was happy and gay, all that was
glowing and bright in prosperous love, all that was most unlike Anne Elliot!
An hour's complete leisure for such reflections as these, on a dark November
day, a small thick rain almost blotting out the very few objects ever to be discerned
from the windows, was enough to make the
sound of Lady Russell's carriage exceedingly welcome; and yet, though
desirous to be gone, she could not quit the Mansion House, or look an adieu to the
Cottage, with its black, dripping and
comfortless veranda, or even notice through the misty glasses the last humble tenements
of the village, without a saddened heart. Scenes had passed in Uppercross which made
it precious.
It stood the record of many sensations of pain, once severe, but now softened; and of
some instances of relenting feeling, some breathings of friendship and
reconciliation, which could never be looked
for again, and which could never cease to be dear.
She left it all behind her, all but the recollection that such things had been.
Anne had never entered Kellynch since her quitting Lady Russell's house in September.
It had not been necessary, and the few occasions of its being possible for her to
go to the Hall she had contrived to evade and escape from.
Her first return was to resume her place in the modern and elegant apartments of the
Lodge, and to gladden the eyes of its mistress.
There was some anxiety mixed with Lady Russell's joy in meeting her.
She knew who had been frequenting Uppercross.
But happily, either Anne was improved in plumpness and looks, or Lady Russell
fancied her so; and Anne, in receiving her compliments on the occasion, had the
amusement of connecting them with the
silent admiration of her cousin, and of hoping that she was to be blessed with a
second spring of youth and beauty. When they came to converse, she was soon
sensible of some mental change.
The subjects of which her heart had been full on leaving Kellynch, and which she had
felt slighted, and been compelled to smother among the Musgroves, were now
become but of secondary interest.
She had lately lost sight even of her father and sister and Bath.
Their concerns had been sunk under those of Uppercross; and when Lady Russell reverted
to their former hopes and fears, and spoke her satisfaction in the house in Camden
Place, which had been taken, and her regret
that Mrs Clay should still be with them, Anne would have been ashamed to have it
known how much more she was thinking of Lyme and Louisa Musgrove, and all her
acquaintance there; how much more
interesting to her was the home and the friendship of the Harvilles and Captain
Benwick, than her own father's house in Camden Place, or her own sister's intimacy
with Mrs Clay.
She was actually forced to exert herself to meet Lady Russell with anything like the
appearance of equal solicitude, on topics which had by nature the first claim on her.
There was a little awkwardness at first in their discourse on another subject.
They must speak of the accident at Lyme.
Lady Russell had not been arrived five minutes the day before, when a full account
of the whole had burst on her; but still it must be talked of, she must make enquiries,
she must regret the imprudence, lament the
result, and Captain Wentworth's name must be mentioned by both.
Anne was conscious of not doing it so well as Lady Russell.
She could not speak the name, and look straight forward to Lady Russell's eye,
till she had adopted the expedient of telling her briefly what she thought of the
attachment between him and Louisa.
When this was told, his name distressed her no longer.
Lady Russell had only to listen composedly, and wish them happy, but internally her
heart revelled in angry pleasure, in pleased contempt, that the man who at
twenty-three had seemed to understand
somewhat of the value of an Anne Elliot, should, eight years afterwards, be charmed
by a Louisa Musgrove.
The first three or four days passed most quietly, with no circumstance to mark them
excepting the receipt of a note or two from Lyme, which found their way to Anne, she
could not tell how, and brought a rather improving account of Louisa.
At the end of that period, Lady Russell's politeness could repose no longer, and the
fainter self-threatenings of the past became in a decided tone, "I must call on
Mrs Croft; I really must call upon her soon.
Anne, have you courage to go with me, and pay a visit in that house?
It will be some trial to us both."
Anne did not shrink from it; on the contrary, she truly felt as she said, in
observing--
"I think you are very likely to suffer the most of the two; your feelings are less
reconciled to the change than mine. By remaining in the neighbourhood, I am
become inured to it."
She could have said more on the subject; for she had in fact so high an opinion of
the Crofts, and considered her father so very fortunate in his tenants, felt the
parish to be so sure of a good example, and
the poor of the best attention and relief, that however sorry and ashamed for the
necessity of the removal, she could not but in conscience feel that they were gone who
deserved not to stay, and that Kellynch
Hall had passed into better hands than its owners'.
These convictions must unquestionably have their own pain, and severe was its kind;
but they precluded that pain which Lady Russell would suffer in entering the house
again, and returning through the well-known apartments.
In such moments Anne had no power of saying to herself, "These rooms ought to belong
only to us.
Oh, how fallen in their destination! How unworthily occupied!
An ancient family to be so driven away! Strangers filling their place!"
No, except when she thought of her mother, and remembered where she had been used to
sit and preside, she had no sigh of that description to heave.
Mrs Croft always met her with a kindness which gave her the pleasure of fancying
herself a favourite, and on the present occasion, receiving her in that house,
there was particular attention.
The sad accident at Lyme was soon the prevailing topic, and on comparing their
latest accounts of the invalid, it appeared that each lady dated her intelligence from
the same hour of yestermorn; that Captain
Wentworth had been in Kellynch yesterday (the first time since the accident), had
brought Anne the last note, which she had not been able to trace the exact steps of;
had staid a few hours and then returned
again to Lyme, and without any present intention of quitting it any more.
He had enquired after her, she found, particularly; had expressed his hope of
Miss Elliot's not being the worse for her exertions, and had spoken of those
exertions as great.
This was handsome, and gave her more pleasure than almost anything else could
have done.
As to the sad catastrophe itself, it could be canvassed only in one style by a couple
of steady, sensible women, whose judgements had to work on ascertained events; and it
was perfectly decided that it had been the
consequence of much thoughtlessness and much imprudence; that its effects were most
alarming, and that it was frightful to think, how long Miss Musgrove's recovery
might yet be doubtful, and how liable she
would still remain to suffer from the concussion hereafter!
The Admiral wound it up summarily by exclaiming--
"Ay, a very bad business indeed.
A new sort of way this, for a young fellow to be making love, by breaking his
mistress's head, is not it, Miss Elliot? This is breaking a head and giving a
plaster, truly!"
Admiral Croft's manners were not quite of the tone to suit Lady Russell, but they
delighted Anne. His goodness of heart and simplicity of
character were irresistible.
"Now, this must be very bad for you," said he, suddenly rousing from a little reverie,
"to be coming and finding us here. I had not recollected it before, I declare,
but it must be very bad.
But now, do not stand upon ceremony. Get up and go over all the rooms in the
house if you like it." "Another time, Sir, I thank you, not now."
"Well, whenever it suits you.
You can slip in from the shrubbery at any time; and there you will find we keep our
umbrellas hanging up by that door. A good place is not it?
But," (checking himself), "you will not think it a good place, for yours were
always kept in the butler's room. Ay, so it always is, I believe.
One man's ways may be as good as another's, but we all like our own best.
And so you must judge for yourself, whether it would be better for you to go about the
house or not."
Anne, finding she might decline it, did so, very gratefully.
"We have made very few changes either," continued the Admiral, after thinking a
moment.
"Very few. We told you about the laundry-door, at
Uppercross. That has been a very great improvement.
The wonder was, how any family upon earth could bear with the inconvenience of its
opening as it did, so long!
You will tell Sir Walter what we have done, and that Mr Shepherd thinks it the greatest
improvement the house ever had.
Indeed, I must do ourselves the justice to say, that the few alterations we have made
have been all very much for the better. My wife should have the credit of them,
however.
I have done very little besides sending away some of the large looking-glasses from
my dressing-room, which was your father's.
A very good man, and very much the gentleman I am sure: but I should think,
Miss Elliot," (looking with serious reflection), "I should think he must be
rather a dressy man for his time of life.
Such a number of looking-glasses! oh Lord! there was no getting away from one's self.
So I got Sophy to lend me a hand, and we soon shifted their quarters; and now I am
quite snug, with my little shaving glass in one corner, and another great thing that I
never go near."
Anne, amused in spite of herself, was rather distressed for an answer, and the
Admiral, fearing he might not have been civil enough, took up the subject again, to
say--
"The next time you write to your good father, Miss Elliot, pray give him my
compliments and Mrs Croft's, and say that we are settled here quite to our liking,
and have no fault at all to find with the place.
The breakfast-room chimney smokes a little, I grant you, but it is only when the wind
is due north and blows hard, which may not happen three times a winter.
And take it altogether, now that we have been into most of the houses hereabouts and
can judge, there is not one that we like better than this.
Pray say so, with my compliments.
He will be glad to hear it."
Lady Russell and Mrs Croft were very well pleased with each other: but the
acquaintance which this visit began was fated not to proceed far at present; for
when it was returned, the Crofts announced
themselves to be going away for a few weeks, to visit their connexions in the
north of the county, and probably might not be at home again before Lady Russell would
be removing to Bath.
So ended all danger to Anne of meeting Captain Wentworth at Kellynch Hall, or of
seeing him in company with her friend.
Everything was safe enough, and she smiled over the many anxious feelings she had
wasted on the subject.