Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

S ome people have the fortune to be able to fit immediately into their surroundings, accepted by everyone around them as part of that sphere, as naturally as if they had been there all along. Margaret did not find, however, although she had once called Norland ‘home', that she was one of these fortunate persons. She made calls with Fanny, she attended two dinners that week, and walked into the village shops to buy ribbands, gloves and a neat little pill box to send to her mother with as much assurance as a long-term resident of the village might have done. But there was always a feeling of not quite belonging, and in private she pondered how a five years' separation from the place of one's childhood could have such a distancing effect.

She attributed this feeling of distance to her departure from Norland before her thirteenth birthday and having spent her most impressionable years at Barton cottage. But she struggled, too, to understand her brother and sister-in-law, whose ambitions were all for town and fashion and the liberal use of money for the sake of preserving in their acquaintance a respectful awe when the name Dashwood was uttered. She, who had grown up mostly in circumstances that placed less value on material comforts than it did on familial affection and harmony, found this preoccupation with being seen, odd to her. She did not like it, and she felt herself an outsider at Norland because of it.

Margaret did not have to wait long to take her tea with her new friend, for a written invitation came only a few days later, while she was still at breakfast with Fanny and John, inviting her to call at Bramley at two o' clock. Margaret, having received permission from her brother to walk alone up to the village, donned her bonnet and gloves at the appointed time, and with none of her usual reluctance for dressing like a lady, for she was most eager indeed to see the home of her new friends and to talk more with Miss Edwin.

The house was of generous proportions, old, constructed of red brick, and was set back from the road a little way from the last buildings of the main street. Ivy and pink climbing rose softened the dark red of the brickwork, and against the blue of the sky the walls and gables looked very pretty indeed. Various greenery surrounded the buildings, and although the branches of the great trees which stood around the house were now bare, and she remembered that in the summer the verdant greens brought the aspect of the house alive. A small stable sat to one side of the place, while a wide field behind led down sharply to a long green pasture where she knew wild ponies grazed.

She barely had time to think it one of the most charming houses she had ever seen, when the door opened, and Miss Edwin was standing ready to welcome her inside with the air of a most proficient hostess. In a very short time she was seated in a pretty drawing room and being helped to tea and cake by Miss Edwin who explained, ‘We always have tea at two o clock, for Papa does not like to dine until five and I am always excessively famished by then! '

A half hour passed very agreeably, with the conversation just what it ought to be, with both women eagerly pursuing the objects and ideas of the other, in the true style of a fond and affectionate friendship.

While they were thus comfortably occupied, they were soon joined by Captain Edwin. ‘You are so cosy there together,' he said jovially advancing into the room a little, ‘that I am loathe to join you for to do so I must break up the tete a tete which no doubt is giving Emily a great pleasure—should I go away again?' he added with a smile which spoke of his desire to join their little party.

His winning plea did not go unanswered. Miss Edwin pressed him most urgently alongside Margaret, not to think of going away but that he was welcome to join them. Looking much gratified to be made welcome into their private party, he was furnished presently with his own cup and invited to partake of tarts and plumb-cake.

Margaret was not sorry to include him in their little tea-party and with some encouragement he was soon talking of his own concerns and pursuits, principally of the house and the projects he wished to undertake on its enlargement. Plans for a new drain, the felling of a tree, and the extension of the servant's annex could hardly have been of interest to anyone else, but to Margaret, who could not at all be a disinterested party in the affairs of Bramley's inhabitants, they were topics of the greatest interest and it was not long before all the details of her friends' hopes for their pretty house were extracted and discussed with great animation.

Margaret observed with some satisfaction that Captain Edwin drank coffee, just as John did. She took great delight in the aroma, and although it was not considered ladylike to drink coffee at home, she was now offered, and accepted with alacrity, a cup of the strong brew.

‘Although I shall add some water to it,' said Captain Edwin, pouring for her, ‘for I like my coffee very strong, and a lady might find it too bitter. It can be overstimulating, and too much, if one is not used to it,' he cautioned as he added the hot water and sugar to her cup and handed it to her.

‘How unlike tea it is,' she exclaimed, after tasting it carefully, ‘but it tastes just as it smells…earthy and—and—almost like chocolate!'

Captain Edwin laughed. ‘Some call it the poor man's chocolate, especially now that it is less expensive to purchase. Coffee has become the working man's drink—not just for the penny universities anymore!'

Margaret was curious. ‘Penny universities?'

‘Yes, have you never heard of the term? In London's coffee houses, with the advent of coffee to stimulate thinking, people from all walks of life gather to discuss ideas, on every topic from philosophy to politics, to farming and literature. Why, the greatest minds gather with those of the humblest men, all brought together by this very beverage. If you can pay a penny, you can be a member of the "university." Coffee is the means that joins those sectors of society which would normally be segregated and allows the man of most humble origins to talk with another man of the most elevated rank, and on the most erudite of topics, should he so choose. It is a great leveller of rank.'

‘It is like an alehouse, then, is it not, but with more learned conversation?'

‘Aye, Miss Dashwood, you have the idea. The coffee house means that any man, gentleman or working man, who wishes, can buy coffee and converse, and the only difference is the level on which conversation takes place, for the coffee houses are all about sobriety, and raise men up, where the alehouse will take a man lower.'

Margaret was spell bound. ‘If only women might be admitted to these penny universities!' she cried. ‘Then all society would be equal. Well, at least while they are inside,' she added with a laugh. ‘Would that not be something, Miss Edwin? Perhaps one day we shall enter one and sit around talking of the most interesting ideas!'

Miss Edwin laughed too. ‘I will reserve my right to decline to enter one, if it is ever given, for I am sure that although the conversation might be stimulating, I cannot like the taste of coffee, and I am sure the tobacco smoke would be in equal quantities as the aroma of coffee, so you must go in alone, if you must go!'

‘Coffee seems like a most magical beverage, if it can bring people together to discuss great ideas,' remarked Margaret, after sipping again.

Captain Edwin laughed. ‘It could be said to have magical properties, it is true, but it is the plant from which it comes that contains those properties which have a stimulating effect upon the drinker. It is just a pity that like so many things, coffee has its dark side too.'

‘A dark side? What do you mean?'

‘You must be aware, Miss Dashwood, that coffee is produced in the West Indies. It takes much effort and labour to produce a harvest of that bean. Who do you suppose does the work in those plantations?'

‘I—I suppose it is done by natives of the country?'

‘In part, yes, but primarily, European companies have been importing slaves from Africa to labour on plantations for some years. I myself have seen great ships full of them, being carted off to the Caribbean, and Barbados and Jamaica. These, you know, were some of the earliest British colonies in the Indies.'

Margaret was silent for a moment. ‘My brother, Edward speaks of slavery sometimes, and it is his opinion that it is a wicked thing. But Sir John says that if it were not for slavery, however awful it seems, England would be a very different place. He says that we owe much of England's prosperity to slavery, and if such a thing did not exist, we would not have sugar, or tobacco or many more things which brings money into the families here. I—I have not thought on it excessively, and I do not know who is more right, but I own that the idea of slavery is unsettling to me. I should like to know more in order to form a more learned opinion of the topic.'

‘That is very commendable, Miss Dashwood!' cried Miss Edwin. ‘I, too, should like to understand more, Papa, for you never speak on it and I am sure there are books and tracts we might read in order to educate ourselves.'

‘Indeed, there are, and I shall search something out for you Emily, but my own opinion of it is that slavery altogether is a very poor thing indeed. On those ships I told you about I have seen some very bad sights. For many years, French-occupied Haiti has supplied half of the world's coffee. I was obliged to be harboured there for some months a few years ago, and I can give you a direct account of the situation as it appeared to me: the living conditions there were appalling, with African slaves routinely underfed, overworked, and housed not in houses such as we are used, Miss Dashwood, but in windowless dirt huts. The slave masters were often cruel, and beat and tortured their slaves routinely. It was not a sight that I wish to see again, and I was very glad to leave.'

‘Must such horrors really occur in order for us to have nice things?' cried Margaret warmly. ‘Where is the justice in this? If it is really true, then surely we must leave off drinking coffee?' She looked at her cup and shook her head. ‘And taking sugar and tobacco too, although I don't care for the tobacco at all, of course, but should not we try to do something to stop such terrible things?'

Miss Edwin agreed. ‘Why do you drink coffee then, Papa, if it is so evil a beverage?'

‘It is not the coffee which is evil, Emily, but the means by which it is produced. Coffee has brought much good to England and to the world, too, and so it is up to each person to judge the matter themselves, rather than judge each other. But there is a great movement rising up now regarding the practice of slavery and I do not think it will be long before the practice is abolished altogether here. Until then, perhaps we can do more good by simply bringing the practice to the attention of more people, so that when an act to end slavery is brought before parliament, enough people will vote for it. Besides which, it is now different in Haiti, for the slaves themselves have risen up and are revolting against the French occupation, and if they are successful, the production of coffee there will be ceased.'

‘Then will we never have coffee again?' asked Margaret in dismay.

‘Fear not Miss Dashwood, the Dutch will most likely form their own coffee plantations and take over production. But it is only a matter of time before slavery will be a thing of the past, so please, do not let such histories and violent tales prevent you from savouring your cup.'

‘I won't,' she assured him. ‘How strange the world is, however, to give us something so delicious, but out of such dreadfulness!'

The conversation now turned to Margaret's situation and circumstance, and she was happy to answer their questions about life at Barton and Delaford, and describe her sisters and brothers-in-law and nieces and nephews, and her dear Mama, which she did with obvious affection.

‘And were it not for Mama,' she finished, ‘I would not have come, for it was she who will suffer the most for my absence, but she would not hear of my not coming, just as soon as John's invitation arrived.'

‘Then we are so glad you have such a forceful creature for a mama,' laughed Miss Edwin delightedly, ‘otherwise I would never have met you!'

‘That is just what I think,' replied Margaret warmly, ‘for I feel the very same way about having met you, too!'

There could hardly be a happier creature in the world, thought Margaret later, gratified that Miss Edwin seemed to enjoy her company as much as she did Miss Edwin's. The visit had been delightful, and perfectly short enough to leave her looking forward to furthering her intimacy with the inhabitants of Bramley.