Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

A s providence had it, Margaret found with delight that her old room was to be her room while she stayed, which overlooked the front of the house and had a very fine prospect towards the distant hills. Although it had been one of the rooms which Fanny had boasted of being new-furnished, Margaret found the new style of her room not unpleasing, and soon felt almost at home there as she had five years ago.

The maid who had been assigned by Fanny to help her dress and do her hair now entered, and soon Margaret was changed into her new white spotted muslin, a very plain gown in contrast to Fanny's silks, she thought with a smile. She been assisted by the maid into the despised white stockings and silk slippers, and armed with a shawl she descended the stairs for her first meal at Norland in five years. She did not mind at all that they were not to dine alone her first night at Norland, for to expand her knowledge of the world and to meet new people was almost wholly why she had wished to come. Whether or not Fanny's choice of company would satisfy her desires remained to be seen, however, she thought as she went downstairs. She remembered little of the families with whom they had shared society when their father was alive, and her playmates had been confined mostly to her own sisters.

The young people arrived, with their various mamas and papas, and were all of them as different from the other, and from Margaret herself, as could be. None of the families were known to her, either being too recently installed in the country, or too aged to have been of any note to a twelve-year old girl.

There was a family of four, two sons of an age which required nothing of Margaret's attention, being respectively a spotty youth of fourteen, and a more grown fellow of around sixteen. Both of them were much too young for either of them to deserve Margaret's notice and she hoped that Fanny had not invited them thinking she would have anything to do with mere children. The mama and papa seemed to have as few attractions as their sons, and held little interest for Margaret beyond a civil greeting.

The two Rush sisters, however, were more interesting to Margaret's sense of humour, since both seemed all high manners and overblown charm. The younger, Miss Henrietta Rush, was a very pretty child of about sixteen years, just recently brought out, and as conscious of her own charms as would put Margaret to shame. Fair hair in copious ringlets, done up one of the new Grecian styles, and limpid blue eyes, she laughed and smiled a great deal, and slid glances toward the men in the most coquettish manner. Although she was the younger sister, she had a far more outgoing and boisterous manner than her elder, and was, Margaret thought privately, as self-consciously flirtatious as a hen among roosters. She was frequently addressing the gentlemen in the most forward way as made Margaret blush for her want of decorum.

The older sister, Miss Mariah Rush, was almost as handsome as her sister, with similar fair hair and blue eyes. Margaret found her particularly amusing, since her manners were so very calculated to ingratiate that it put Margaret to shame on account of the lady's parents. These latter, as genteel as they appeared, seemed not to be at all embarrassed at the excesses of their daughter, but looked on approvingly as Miss Rush went into raptures over the furnishings, the table ornaments, and Fanny's and Margaret's gowns.

Had only Fanny's gown been the subject of such excessive compliments, Margaret would not have found the young lady at all insincere, for Fanny's gown was very fine, and fresh from a London dressmaker. But Margaret's own white spotted muslin being so very plain in comparison with Fanny's modish silk and lace, she was obliged to credit the young lady with at least some notion of good sense, for it was obvious she was doing her best to make herself very agreeable to Fanny and John, however insincere it might be!

The other female, Miss Edwin, who had come with her father, was very pretty with her auburn hair and green eyes, and seemed to be around the same age as herself. Her modest pale primrose muslin was more appropriate to such an intimate dinner party, but the lady tended to such excessive quietness that Margaret could not tell if the fault was shyness or sullenness and she had a sudden curiousity to discover more of the young woman's character. Although they must have been acquainted, the young woman did not appear to be particular friends with any of the Rush girls and Margaret found herself liking Miss Edwin the more for it.

They were twelve at table, and Margaret had a good reason to hope that number above what might be required for interesting discourse. The young men said very little which interested her, but both the older females were very civil, and if Miss Edwin was quiet all throughout dinner, Margaret put it down to the ability of Miss Henrietta Rush to monopolise all the conversation to herself. Margaret did not mind, for she had not wanted the company of other females to set her at ease. Good conversation was all her requirement for a successful dinner, and she did not find herself wanting it, for the party contained a sea-captain. This latter was in fact Miss Edwin's father, who she found had been seated to her left. Of this gentleman she was able to ask many questions and she found herself entertained enough to be glad, by the end of dinner, to have had such an agreeable table-mate.

Captain Edwin was a tall, angular fellow of perhaps five or six and thirty. While lacking those rather practised refinements of manner which Margaret observed with amusement in John and Fanny, his address was that which inferred a good education and a gentleman's upbringing. These qualities, along with an amiable and open demeanour, she found engaging. The combination of light brown hair cut quite short, fashionably long sideburns, and twinkling blue eyes set into a handsome countenance made him seem the very picture of amiability, to Margaret. He sported a short-trimmed beard and a natural gravity which gave the gentleman an unusual air of wisdom, and was to Margaret's young mind the perfect image of the dashing sea-captains she had always imagined.

Now, she eagerly listened to his stories when he was entreated by her to tell them. To hear of the strange food eaten on board warships, the type of life to which sailors were obliged to harden themselves, and tales of dark exotic peoples with their wonderful habits and colourful lives, had Margaret enthralled. ‘But did you not ever feel terror, Captain Edwin, when you were in battle—did you never fear for your life or that of your crew?'

‘By no means, Miss Dashwood,' was the grave reply, ‘for I have never encountered a native nor a storm nor an enemy warship to which I did not feel myself equal. I have learned that one must never feel daunted, but if we are equal to all that life brings us, and know this to be true, our courage can never fail us. I have never lost a battle, nor a man, nor a ship, in my ten years career as captain. And I flatter myself that I never shall, should I be obliged to go to sea again in wartime.'

‘How I should love to travel the world as you do, to have the wide blue ocean before me, and the wind in my sails!' said Margaret warmly. ‘You must be very sorry to ever see land, I should think!'

‘How monstrous frightening!' cried Miss Rush. ‘You cannot be serious in wishing to be at sea, Miss Dashwood! I know that I would never be able to endure the constant swell!'

‘I should simply die of seasickness before an hour is come to pass!' echoed the younger Miss Henrietta, fluttering her fan below her eyes. ‘Miss Dashwood, you cannot mean it at all!'

But Captain Edwin laughed. ‘I applaud your courage, Miss Dashwood, for you have a true sailor's heart, I think. However, if you were to be two months or more at sea, and running low on supplies, and only a cup of fresh water for your parched throat, you might comprehend our joy when land is finally sighted and we know that only a few hours more will see us on dry earth again, and we may drink water that has not lain idle in barrels for months or more!'

‘Yes, I suppose so,' replied Margaret, somewhat ashamed of her naivety. ‘Your family must have missed you very greatly when you have had to be away from home. I have the fortune of having no sea-faring relatives, and therefore will never know the anxiety of having one or more of them at sea. Do your family miss you very much?'

Here, Captain Edwin turned to his daughter, who had been quietly listening. ‘What say you, Emily?'

Miss Edwin said a little shyly, ‘You know I never like you being away at sea, Papa, but the joy of seeing you home again is almost worth the loss.'

‘Then bear that in mind, my dear, when I am next obliged to command a ship, and allow thoughts of my safe return to be a comfort to you. '

Here, John Dashwood, who had turned his attentions from talking to the other gentlemen, now interjected across the table, ‘I suppose that you do not consider your commanding a ship again very soon, Edwin. The Treaty of Amiens has ended hostilities between the two countries—surely you don't foresee more action with the French in the Indies?'

‘Not at present, Dashwood, but I fear this peace may be short lived. Napoleon Bonaparte leads the French Republic by vote of popularity, and I perceive he is a savvy war-monger. I fear he intends, at some point in the next two years, to strike once again at the British colonies we have secured in Trinidad.'

‘Oh!' cried Miss Henrietta Rush. ‘How perfectly dreadful! Do say you are wrong! I am ever so frightened to think of it!' The fan fluttered again, tremulously.

‘I could be mistaken, Miss Henrietta,' replied the captain kindly, ‘for I am no expert on war, but I know that Napoleon is a very clever man, and is not at all intimidated by perceived strength. It is, Miss Dashwood,' he added, turning to Margaret, ‘as I explained, that to consider one's being equal, in strength, in courage, in abilities, to the situation at hand, is to have an upper hand already. Napoleon is a threat to the British Empire, and I foretell that he will be such until he is brought down and subdued completely.'

Fanny was incredulous, however. ‘It cannot be as you say, Captain, if you will forgive my opposing you, for as you know, we have several business interests in the Indies, based on very good advice of the French being quite fully subdued already. Have not we, Mr Dashwood? I daresay you navy men think only of war, even when it is not likely, and naturally so, for your income must be almost in full derived from going to sea, and so you think on war's being at our door-steps too much, perhaps!'

Captain Edwin took this attack on his motives in good humour however. ‘Then I hope very much, Mrs Dashwood, that you are not mistaken, for I collect that many estates and plantations in that country were burned to the ground or taken over when the French realized that they were going to lose the war.'

‘Oh! Dear me!' Fanny was much taken aback. ‘Mr Dashwood, I do hope there is never going to be another war, or we shall certainly have to withdraw our own investments there!'

‘No need to panic, my dear,' was her husband's judicious reply, ‘I wager Edwin is mistaken, for now we have the Treaty—what possibly could go wrong?'

After dinner Margaret was pleased to find herself sitting together with Miss Edwin, whom she discovered was only a little younger than herself, and not sullen at all, but of a shy disposition.

‘I have always been shy of strangers,' Miss Edwin explained. ‘I lost my mother when I was very small, and Papa had me raised by a governess. I saw few people in those days, except Miss Ford. I expect I am deficient in manners too, because of not being around very many people, but at least I have had a very good education. Miss Ford has gone now, and for a time I was very sad. Miss Ford and I were inseparable, and she taught me everything! But I have not overcome my shyness yet, I am afraid.'

‘And where do you live, Miss Edwin?'

‘Papa bought us a pretty house in Hadston three years ago, called Bramley. Perhaps you know it?'

‘Indeed I do,' cried Margaret. ‘It is a charming place! I was only twelve, of course, but I remember that it was owned by a very stern old lady and her unmarried daughter. I suppose the old lady died,' she added, ‘because she must have been quite old when I lived here. I wonder what happened to the daughter?'

‘I believe she went to live with her brother, and the house was put up for sale. Papa says he bought it because he liked to have me brought up in the country, so as I would not "fall prey to the conceits of the ladies of the world", he says. He is very good to me, and when Miss Ford was with us, it was almost like a proper family, until Miss Ford left us to go to another position. '

‘Oh? You must miss her dreadfully!'

‘I am turned seventeen two months ago, and have no more need for a governess,' Miss Edwin replied simply. ‘Miss Ford must earn her bread with some other family. I miss her very much,' she added sadly. ‘But I have my interests, and looking after Papa, to keep me busy now. I am the woman of the house, now, he says.'

‘And what do you do with yourself, when you are not looking after you father?'

‘Papa and I walk every day. And I like to ride when the weather permits it. I have a lovely mare, which Papa gave to me on my sixteenth birthday. Do you like to ride, Miss Dashwood?'

‘I confess I am not a good rider. I had a dear little pony when I was young, called Strawberry, but now we are too poor to keep even a pony at Barton cottage. It doesn't signify at any rate, for I prefer to walk, I'm afraid. Do you really have a horse?' Margaret asked in some surprise, because she had thought that to keep horses was an expense reserved only for the landed gentry with a large estate and enough money to keep a stable.

‘Oh, yes!' was the reply. ‘Bramley has a fine stable, with two riding beasts in addition to the carriage horses!' She blushed. ‘I dare say you think my father not of the means to keep horses, but he did very well in the last few years at sea. He was ten years ago distinguished by his being given a captaincy early. He did not buy his commission, you see, but earned his way fully. And besides doing very well in the wars which overturned the French colonies in Tobago and Martinique, he has since then made a modest fortune as a navy merchant.'

‘I see!' Margaret was fascinated. ‘I have heard that many men have made their fortunes in the Navy. I could not think of a more worthy reward for such a dangerous profession.'

‘We do not live like some others, like your brother and sister here, Miss Dashwood—we do not have a grand estate like Norland—although Papa is nephew to the Earl of Melbourne, who has a great estate called Charlton Park in Suffolk. My father visits there several times per year to pay his respects, although he will not inherit the property, for his uncle has a grandson who is first in line.'

‘Your father must be on excellent terms with his uncle to journey there several times per year. I have never been to Suffolk,' Margaret added wistfully.

‘Papa is Lord Thomas Ambrose's nephew on his mother's side. It is not a close connection, for the tie is by marriage only. But they treat him as family, and he cares very much for his uncle. I met the Earl once—he is quite old, and very rich indeed, and is said to be on terms with King George! But I found him very kind—at least, he was kind to me at the time. Papa said his uncle once offered to buy him a commission, when he was young—can you fathom it!—so very good natured of him!—but Papa turned him down and earned his way up in the navy.'

‘That is very honourable of Captain Edwin, I am sure!'

‘Papa says that all men must make their own way in the world. That is what he has done. I think he is very brave.'

‘For a certainty!' said Margaret warmly. ‘You must be very proud of him. And you have no brothers or sisters, Miss Edwin?'

‘Mama died when I was barely a year old, and Papa has never married again. He says he is married to his ship, and although he laughs when he says it, I think I understand.'

‘Then I am very sorry for you indeed. I could not imagine growing up without a mother and sisters.'

‘It can be a little quiet, but I have not been lonely, for dear Miss Ford was the best of companions. Perhaps you will come and drink tea with me, one day next week? I shall be ever so glad of the company!'

‘It would give me great pleasure, Miss Edwin.'

When their many guests had all departed with the twelfth chime of the clock, and she had ascended the stairs to her bedroom, Margaret found upon reflection that the evening had satisfied her even more than she had expected. Perhaps her time at Norland would exceed her expectations after all, for Fanny and John seemed to be going out of their way to make her stay as pleasurable as they could. Marianne's suspicion that Fanny had asked her for an ulterior motive was put to rest. She had not even asked after the silverware!

No, Margaret was come to Norland to discover more of the world, and she was already content after her first day. She went to sleep dreaming of the wide blue ocean and that she was captain of a ship that was being tossed on the waves, cannons booming as she faced an oncoming enemy armada. But if she won or lost her little war, she could not recall the next morning.