Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

NORLAND PARK, SUSSEX.

WEDNESDAY 1 SEPTEMBER, 1802

T here are few English traditions so delightful as the ceremony of afternoon tea. So thought Fanny Dashwood smugly as she sat beneath the pavilion which had been set under the trees on the lawn in front of Norland Park. She said as much to her husband who strolled nearby, and then when he had nothing to add to this observation, she filled in the silence with an idle, ‘Do you not agree, my love? Afternoon tea, I hold, can never surpass even the delights of your modern coffee house.'

The object of this offhand remark, a lover of coffee houses himself, discerned no particular need to reply, or to cause a stir by offering a different point of view, and therefore continued his stroll beneath the trees with nothing more than an indeterminate ‘Hmph!'

‘And when it is taken out of doors on a fine summer's day such as this,' continued Fanny undeterred, ‘one is certain of an hour or two of the utmost felicity.' Certainly, she knew no happier example of English life. A teapot, for her, was the greatest of pleasures. Especially the teapot she had inherited from her husband's family, since it was superior to the one she had owned in town, before they had come to take over the house. Bone china, this was a Spode, and boasted a blue and white willow pattern. It was quite lovely. She touched it affectionately on the spout with one finger and smiled.

Shaded by the large muslin pavilion erected by the footmen, she sat in perfect comfort at the table which had been set on Norland's spacious lawn for the purpose, and on which the various accoutrements necessary for this most noble tradition had been neatly set out. Two footmen waited on her periodically, then returned to their silent posts at a respectful distance. The table had been set in front of the house itself and a good way away from it, so as to give a view not only of the fine gardens and distant hills, but of the house too. No other place in the country, Fanny mused, would provide such a perfect setting for the accomplishment of such a necessary English tradition.

In this small vanity, Mrs Fanny Dashwood could be forgiven for indulging, for Norland Park truly was unequalled in its prospect. It had no rivals in the area to touch it. It was a large, respectable estate, to be sure, and a good income was got from its careful management. But from Fanny's current vantage point this particular afternoon, everything required to procure the most felicitous state of mind was in her view.

The house itself, which always gave her the keenest pleasure to observe from a distance, loomed large and graceful before her, all sand-coloured stone and ivy-covered walls, and before it, the elegant sweep of the driveway leading the eye to the wide stone stair before the portico, which had been added ten years ago to modernize the front entrance. Then immediately in front of the house, within the stately rows of hedges and lawn, there was the feature-piece of Norland, the new fountain-pool, built in the latest roman style, and very recently stocked with bright carp. It had cost them quite a pretty sum, but Fanny considered it no great expenditure when the addition would give visitors such a view as they would now enjoy on entering the gates of the Park.

To Fanny's right and beyond the house were the stables, which from here were just out of sight, but next to those sat the orchard, with its neat rows of bright trees. These Fanny could see from her position on the lawn. Behind and to each side of the house could be seen the long sweep of green and gold fields, bulging with ripe hay ready to be harvested. These led the eye to the majestic rise of the green valley above, and to a tiny church spire which signalled that Norland was situated at the perfect distance from the town. There was such a thing, Fanny had observed to her husband on his succession to Norland Park five years ago, as being too near a village or town, and Norland Park, Fanny had been relieved to find, was that perfect distance, at not above two miles by road from the large village of Hadston, to afford the Dashwoods just the correct degree of aloof gentility, without the appearance of incivility.

Fanny now observed her husband about to slip away and called him back to her side. ‘My love? Where are you going?' Her sharp tone cut through the gentle afternoon.

John Dashwood paused his sidle towards the garden gate. ‘Davidson has just gone into the orchard, my love, and I meant to speak with him…'

‘Davidson can wait, surely! Do come and keep me company!' She spoke lazily into the air.

Her husband obligingly returned to the pavilion.

Fanny sighed contentedly. ‘Norland certainly is a prize in all seasons, is it not, my love? I, myself, never tire of looking at it. From here is a particularly fine vantage point. Do you intend to walk about in that silly fashion all day, Mr Dashwood? Do come and sit down and enjoy the view. You will never wish to get up again these next two hours!'

Mr John Dashwood seated himself obediently, took up his tea with a sigh, and remarked affably, ‘A fine aspect, indeed, Fanny. Very fine. This long summer has been very kind to us, but I think this good weather won't last much longer. You must take as many afternoons on the lawn as you can, I collect.'

Fanny was still admiring the Spode tea set. ‘What a good thing it was that such an elegant house should come to you!' she remarked smugly. ‘Your mother and half-sisters, I am quite convinced, would never have done such a grand house justice, after your father passed! The thought of it! And you know your mother would never have made such improvements as we have thought of!'

‘Quite so, my dear. The new fountain-pool looks very well.'

‘It is just as well they did not try to make their home here,' continued Fanny. ‘Such a house would have been wasted on them, even had they been invited to stay on. Being so familiar with Norland, they could hardly have been sensible enough as we are, of the value of a place which they had come quite likely to regard merely as commonplace, and even a burden, by the time they quit it.'

Mr Dashwood took a tiny raspberry tart and popped it in his mouth, wiping ineffectually at the crumbs which fell amok about him. ‘Certainly! Although it was their home for many years, and I am sure they would have left it with regret…but yes, you are quite right, Fanny. You are always right about these things. My mother would not have been happy at Norland, I think, with the continuance of those memories which would have made her frequently long for former times.'

Half-brother to the three sisters which had proceeded from his father's second marriage, John Dashwood had, as heir to Norland, intended for his sisters to remain in their home after their father had died five years ago. He had fancied that as their older brother it was somewhat his duty to see the older two sisters married and well situated. Certainly, it would have been no insignificant task to find husbands for Elinor and Marianne, since they could bring very little to a marriage, but still, it would have given him the pleasure of fulfilling his duty to his father, to keep them all for a year or two until he could see them married. Marianne, at least, was handsome enough, and Elinor of such a mild temper and sensible disposition, that he had thought them both quite likely to find themselves husbands even despite their lack of fortunes. He had fancied that he could help them along by promoting his sisters among his lower acquaintance and the thought had done much to relieve the slight nagging guilt at his intrusion upon their home and lives.

His wife, however, had soon helped him to see the error of his judgement. His family, she had explained, would be so much happier to be removed into a different part of the country altogether, than to remain at Norland. It would be far better for the girls too, for if husbands were to be found for them, a change of society would be just the thing to bring new introductions. And as for the poor afflicted Mrs Henry Dashwood, her mother-in-law, Fanny could not have urged her husband more strongly to consider the dreadful disservice it would be doing by pressing his mother to remain in a house where every room, every picture, every hallway, and every outdoor walk, would only supply the pain that comes with remembrance of a former life.

Mr Dashwood, secretly relieved at the thought of not having to share Norland after all, had quickly been obliged to acknowledge the sense of this. Intending, however, to do something for his sisters financially, he had at first thought the present of three thousand pounds to his sisters might discharge his promise to his father quite adequately. And as much as anyone can be motivated by sudden fits of generosity, he was ready to give freely without looking back.

But Fanny had saved him from a grave error in this also, for she had reminded him that he had promised no such material favour to his father, but only to "do something for them", which did not— could not —have been meant by his father as the giving of actual money or paying any annuity. And now, with two of his sisters being so favourably settled in good marriages, and his mother so well cared for as a result, the occasional pangs of conscience which sometimes had plagued John Dashwood at night had entirely been removed by the relief of having them so well situated. Now, he felt any debt to his father regarding their care was long past the need of its execution.

Fanny, observing his silence, remarked drily, ‘When one's circumstances must change so materially, it is as well not to remain in a situation which may cause more pain than pleasure—and your mother is of such a temperament as would not have speedily learned to be content with her situation, had she remained with us. It would have unsettled her, and the girls, to have stayed on. But now, she is quite well cared for by Brandon. Why, he has enough to care for them all , even if Elinor had never married! I cannot believe he has less than two thousand a year—I think it rather more likely that he has three!'

She did not mention her brother Edward, whose marriage to Elinor Dashwood had been a source of discontent to Fanny and to her poor dear mother too, when she was alive. The passing of several years had done a little to soften the feelings of Edward's sister, although she still felt that her brother had thrown away both his fortune and his good sense when had taken Elinor Dashwood, mistress of no fortune at all, as his wife. Both Mrs Ferrars and Fanny had felt that Edward was destined for far greater things than to go into the church, and as for his marrying a mere Miss Elinor Dashwood, a person of No Great Consequence and poor as a church mouse—she had still not found it in her heart to fully forgive him for promoting a Miss Nobody to the elevation of a Mrs Ferrars. And she and her dear mother had often privately lamented Edward's tendency to be too much influenced by his emotions. Still, now that Edward had been persuaded recently to invest in this new scheme in shipping insurances, Fanny thought that perhaps he had a good chance to add to his meagre wealth substantially and become a Great Man after all.

While privately Mr John Dashwood did not suppose Marianne's husband quite as rich as his wife implied, he did not disagree with the overall sentiment. ‘It certainly is a good thing that Elinor and Marianne have both married so well,' he conceded. ‘My father, I am sure, would be satisfied if he could but see them all. They certainly have no need of money now!'

It was a topic which Fanny liked to canvass frequently. She took it up again now with enthusiasm. ‘Certainly not! What a good thing it was that you never gave them the three thousand pounds! Do you see how right I was to urge you against it? Whenever people cry poor and beg for help, once the money is given out, there is always a sudden change in circumstance and they become as rich as they were poor! Consider how wasted your three thousand would have been on them! How much a surplus which they could never hope to use between them! To think you almost cheated our dear Harry of a sum he will likely need in future if he wishes to make improvements here, or to ensure his future comforts!'

‘That is very true, my love. Elinor and Marianne have made marriages of which our father would never have dreamed, I am sure.' Here John Dashwood paused, then said with a slight tinge of regret, ‘I only wish something could be done for Margaret. She has turned into something—quite a beauty, if I may presume to call her that—it seems a pity that she should not find herself a good husband too, and then all my duties to my father should have been discharged finally.'

‘I don't know why you insist upon taking your promise to your father so materially,' remarked Fanny, the hard edge to her voice suddenly more pronounced. ‘Even if Margaret never marries—which would be no astonishment, for I collect she runs as wild now as she did five years ago—she will be well taken care of by her sisters. You need not consider yourself responsible for her future. I hear that Lady Middleton is a prodigious entertainer of guests. I'm sure with all the society Barton Park will be enjoying, the girl will no doubt be snapped up by some farmer or other very soon, quite as quickly as the other girls were. You needn't feel yourself responsible for her future.'

‘My dear Fanny! She is my sister—I would be cold-hearted indeed not to feel some anxiety for her future!'

‘Half-sister,' corrected his wife coldly. ‘Half blood is barely anything—almost no relation at all! Miss Margaret,' she added in bored tones, ‘can expect no such attention from you, I am sure.'

‘Oh, indeed not—that is to say, I do not think she expects anything at all—perhaps you are right, and I need not be anxious at all for her future. Brandon, or even your brother, I suppose, are far more appropriately placed to look out for her.'

‘You will see her comfortably situated within the year, with no trouble at all to ourselves, I am convinced of it,' replied Fanny smugly.

Mr Dashwood was silent a moment. ‘Perhaps,' he began again, suffering under a sudden new spasm of noble liberality, ‘we might at least invite Margaret to stay here at Norland? She would benefit from the new society into which a stay with us would bring her. What say you?'

Fanny, her cheeks gone quite pink with alarm, put her teacup down carefully. ‘But my love, only think what a burden such a visit would put on her mother! Margaret would have to be furnished with a new wardrobe, for she could not mix within our circle and be comfortable in her country fashions. And her country manners! It would be humiliating for her! And think, too, of the inconvenience to your mother. She would very soon desire Margaret's speedy return most ardently, for it is only the two of them now at Barton Cottage. Your mother must rely upon Margaret heavily now that her health is so fragile. Did not Edward say she complains of a bad chest?'

‘Pleurisy.'

‘Pleurisy then, although I still doubt it was anything quite so bad. All single women above fifty must have something to complain of or they would have nothing to offer for conversation! At any rate, I was going to ask Robert and Lucy to stay—you know I have been promising them above six months. We must have them before Lucy is confined—her third child! Let us hope for a boy this time! Poor Robert is beside himself with worry that it will be a girl! At any rate, you know we go into town for the winter. There will not be time to have them both to stay! No, Robert and Lucy must be asked first.'

Fanny did not find it necessary to mention that she had already asked them and had been refused…for herself it was a great pity that she had not managed to get Lucy and Robert to come to them for Michealmas— they would have been rightly conscious of the honour done them, in inviting them to make a visit—more conscious of the honour than a Miss Dashwood would have been sensible of—but Lucy being with child again, and her time very near, Fanny supposed her brother had been correct in putting off the visit until such time as the child was born and could be left with a nurse. To have a child wailing and fussing at Norland, to have to endure the shrill screams of a tiresome infant! The mere idea was not to be contemplated. Fanny had never enjoyed motherhood and could not understand the fuss that was made of infants. Still, she might ask Lucy's sister, Anne. She would need to have someone or other as guest at Norland, if she were not to invite Margaret. Heaven forbid!

Mr Dashwood was now in some doubt of the wisdom of his notion. ‘Very well, I shall leave it to you—perhaps it is as you say and it would not be fair to my sister to expect her to be at ease here. Country manners and all that. I should not like to suggest it in that case. '

Fanny's lips firmed at the intimacy, but she did not like to correct her husband a third time. Instead, now that her first alarm had subsided, took up her teacup again and said composedly, ‘Besides, my love, you have done more than enough for the family by getting Edward involved with that business venture of Claymore's. My brother will soon be quite rewarded, I am sure! That must count very much as helping them all along! Your father would have made no stipulation against that sort of assistance to them, I am sure.'

‘Yes, I believe you are right, Fanny.' Here John Dashwood paused. ‘But we ought to remember that any scheme of that kind is not truly secure—of course I would never have recommended the scheme if I did not think it likely to succeed—nothing at all to be uneasy over—but Edward, well, he has put up a great deal—almost seven thousand pounds—and now that they have a large family to think of—well, suffice to say, I feel that I cannot congratulate myself on helping them up in the world until such a time as they may reap the rewards.'

‘Oh, certainly—but I am sure there is no doubt of its being a good return, and in only two short years—I collect they will be thanking you heartily for the opportunity, very soon.'

‘It was very good of Ambrose to think of Edward at all.'

‘Well—it was myself who suggested my brother as an investor—but excessively good-natured of Ambrose to offer the opportunity!'

Now a small silence fell which distant birdsong filled pleasantly and presently, Fanny began again in another strain. ‘I wonder if Harry is got back to school by now. He had such a lovely visit home these last weeks. I was so violently affected by his going away yesterday, that I was sure I would cry when he left—although I did not. But he will be home again at Michaelmas. That is only three weeks away. You will take him shooting with you, Mr Dashwood, when he comes back. I do not like him in the house too much, quite tests my poor nerves. Dear, dear boy!'

To this maternal sentiment her husband had nothing to add and a comfortable silence descended again. Presently the tea things were removed and the couple now parted, each to their own pursuits, one to find Davidson, and one to her escritoire.

It was not long before her letters were begun when the servant entered Fanny's private sitting room with a letter just come. She took it up at once.

‘My dear Mrs Dashwood,

I have received yours and was very much obliged for your kind enquiries for my health. My journey from Rannocks went off well enough, with good roads, and a timely arrival at my residence in town.

Your observations of my family at Charlton Park were very kind, although I cannot share your view of the old man. Grandfather is far too fastidious for my liking—indeed, he has been quite a bore, in fact, and now insists that I marry before he will turn the place over to me, or if I don't he threatens to give it all over to someone else in the family. Grandfather supposes a wife will cure my "dissipated" ways and oblige me to settle down.

Knowing the old man to be quite pig-headed, his threats have impressed upon me forcibly. Rannocks, as you know brings in less than fifteen hundred pounds a year, and I cannot live upon its income alone. My grandfather's allowance of course is generous, but if I displease him too much I would not put it past him to cut me off! I have debts to be paid, although I head off the creditors every month so admirably you will laugh quite immoderately! But to coerce me to marry! I resent being so obliged to secure the inheritance, but the old man is wilful, and I dare not ignore him. It would be just like him to have it settled so .

Therefore, I have no choice but to take a wife. I suppose it will not be entirely disagreeable—a pretty wife might lend some elegance to my table when I entertain at Rannocks. I do not stipulate for a woman of peculiar information or spirit, for she must be dull enough never to give me trouble, so long as she can converse on suitable topics when required. I do not like them over-educated, you know, as they give too much trouble when they have their own ideas!

As for fortune, I have my allowance, and I shall inherit Charlton Park within the next five years—grandfather may not survive that long!—and then I shall want for nothing —a tolerable dowry might be an addition to my own income and may allay some of my more insistent creditors—but she must certainly have more than a common countenance for I cannot bear to be around ugly things.

I have no scruple, therefore, Mrs Dashwood, in asking you, who have been a very great friend to me, to do me the further service of looking out for a female suited to this purpose: I set down that she must possess beauty, and not be more than eighteen years—I cannot abide the tired cynicism of females who have been ruined by being in town for more than a season—let her be a young innocent—charming and compliant!

In return, of course, I shall ensure you have your heart's desire. We are of such a pair of natures as makes you quite transparent to me, as I am to you, dear Mrs Dashwood. You wish to rise in the world, and I wish to remain in my allotted place. If you can find me a wife, I shall undertake to see that you are introduced into the circles to which you aspire. My uncle shall receive you at Charlton Park. Nothing shall be held back for a loyal friend. We can the two of us help each other and therefore with your assistance I shall remain

Your servant

Charles Thomas Ambrose .

Fanny read the note through with interest, smiling a little. She sat in thought for some ten minutes afterward, staring out into the garden and occasionally tilting her head to one side like a little bird considering its next worm. Then, taking up her pen once more, Fanny took a fresh paper, and began to write vigorously. When this new note had been completed, yet another was begun, and once both notes were sealed, they were given to the servant to post. This whole little incident seemed to give Fanny some considerable satisfaction, for she spent the rest of the afternoon humming, and looking very pleased with herself until dinner time.

When she and John Dashwood had sat down to table, and the servants passed out of the room but two, Fanny broke the silence. ‘My love,' she ventured as she began calmly to cut up her roast pheasant, ‘I have thought more on your proposing to invite Miss Margaret Dashwood to Norland. I was thinking it might be rather a gesture of kindness to invite her, since her mother is so unwell. We must not appear ungenerous.'

‘Oh! No, certainly not! Then you had best ask her, my dear, if you think it proper after all. But won't my mother feel my sister's absence? And I thought you had desired to ask Robert and Lucy?'

‘I was given to understand your mother is at Delaford to convalesce, and so I think Margaret may be spared after all. I had forgotten it entirely until just now. I think they may very well spare her—a youngest daughter is of no consequence, you know,' said Fanny in great approval of her own generosity, ‘and I am now of the opinion that we might as well take her up to town with us when we go. She cannot have had a proper coming out, with her mother so ill every winter. Besides which, it is my considered opinion that a country coming-out does not count. One must have a season in town. It would be good for her. I will have my own dressmaker to her. It will be my treat. She is such a handsome girl she will have no trouble attracting admirers once I have dressed her!'

‘I say, what a splendid idea!' replied Mr Dashwood. He sipped his excellent claret. ‘I do not like to see a girl so pretty wasted on a backwards country village like Barton. She will do very well in London, and if she can get herself a husband, then all the better. It will look very well in my mother's eyes if I can get my sister as good husband as Elinor and Marianne have caught!'

‘Indeed, my love!'

‘Well, if you think after all that it will be no burden to Barton Cottage to lose her, then do write to my mother and ask for Margaret. I am sure they will both be sensible of the honour done my sister.'

Mrs John Dashwood made some murmur of reply but her husband had already turned back to his bird and potatoes, having no stomach to question his spouse too closely on her sudden change of mind.

As for Fanny, she beckoned the servant to have more wine poured, and the satisfied little smile on her face continued right through to the desert course, when an unordered blancmange having been served, Fanny was obliged, just for a moment, into a reproving frown, and had it sent back to the kitchen and a dish of apples and custard made up at once.