Chapter 36

CHAPTER 36

O ne morning soon after their walk in Hyde Park saw Margaret left in blissful solitude for several hours, Mr Ambrose having gone into Kent on business for three or four days. He had left her with regretful, respectful kisses to her hand, smiling promises to bring her something from Ramsgate, and of a speedy return as soon as could be managed. Although she did not wish him gone, he had been almost always with them in Harley-street since the moment of their engagement. To have a few hours to herself, without Fanny to crow over her sister-in-law's most favourable marriage, and to mention several times what an act of great charity she was doing for her sisters, Margaret was grateful. Time alone was also time for reflection, a pastime of which she was fond, and now had little leisure for, with either Fanny or Mr Ambrose demanding her attention.

The incident in the park she had unsettled her, but on consideration, owing that it had been the only time he had caused her any embarrassment, and considering that he was usually the most gentlemanly of men around her, and had never given her a moment's alarm before, that she put his ill-judged advances down to the strength of his ardour, and, even thrilling a little at the thought, determined to put the incident firmly behind them.

Mr Ambrose—Charles—as he had urged her to think of him, had been as charming and attentive as ever after the incident, and after dinner in Harley-street that evening, he had left them early in order to prepare for his journey into Kent the following day. She hoped he would not bring her a very expensive present from Ramsgate, for he had already made her several gifts of fine shawls, books, and pretty gloves, as well as the ruby pendant, and she felt that she would rather be won by his attention, than by his gifts. But as he had finally acceded to her pleadings, and promised merely to bring her a pretty shell from the seaside resort that she had never visited, she felt little danger of embarrassment at being compelled by politeness to accept another extravagant gift.

On this particular morning, then, she had installed herself in the drawing room after breakfast, and had settled there to enjoy the fire and a new novel. Fanny and John had each gone out to attend their own affairs. They had both left Margaret with apologies—a very warm one from her brother, and from Fanny an excuse as befitted her cool demeanour. Delighted to have some time alone, Margaret had read quietly in the drawing room for an hour, savouring the unexpected and welcome respite from constant conversation and an excess of attention from her betrothed, and at eleven o' clock sharp, she went to see if the mail had been fetched.

It had, and had brought her a much looked for letter from Elinor. She set upon it immediately, and almost tore open the seal. It had been four weeks since Marianne had returned home, and apart from a brief and somewhat forlorn note from Marianne three weeks ago, to say she had arrived at Delaford and remained in hopes of seeing her husband very soon, Margaret had heard nothing since Elinor's letter three weeks ago .

Mama, of course, had written as soon as she had heard the news of Margaret's engagement, both elated and joyous at the excellent match her youngest daughter had made for herself, and inviting them both to come to Barton just as soon as ever she was married. It was all that Margaret had wished to have her mother's blessing, but she was most eager to hear news from Delaford.

Margaret's fears for both her sisters, on account of the low spirits and delicate health of one, and for the altered circumstances of the other, and the accompanying hopes of lessening the impact of their sudden loss by her own fortunate marriage, made her more eager to hear from Elinor than she had been in the last two months. From Elinor, she hoped, she would hear a real account of Marianne's health and spirits, rather than her sister's pretence that she was bearing up. Besides this, she would be able ascertain if the news of her impending union with Charles Ambrose had lifted dear Edward's spirits with the reassurance that they would never want for any necessity while Margaret was married to a man most able to supply her a tolerable decent allowance.

Margaret opened out the letter and began to read.

‘My dearest Meg,

‘I had hoped very much to give myself the pleasure of sending you a very good account of us all by this time, and in particular of Marianne—for I had hoped that the Colonel would by now have returned from abroad and put us all out of our anxieties and worry for him and the affairs of Delaford, but dearest, I must tell you that the Colonel has not yet returned, nor have we had word from him. Marianne is brought very low by his continued and inexplicable absence, and none of us can begin to imagine what would delay his return, and their being reunited again, unless he is ill.

I have not let Marianne suppose such a thing, lest it be the end of her nerves which are battered and bruised by now. But what could have taken him away, let alone kept him from his wife and children for so many weeks, Mama and Edward and I am perplexed at as she. Edward and I have quite forbidden the topic to be canvassed over the dinner table each night for each time we do, she is not cheered but brought ever lower.

‘Mama has come for a visit. She arrived almost just as soon as Marianne returned from town, and remains here as a comfort to Marianne who will not be without her company unless she is asleep. Poor Mama, who is tired from being worried and anxious, I am sure gets even less sleep than does our sister, and I am once again almost on the point of asking Mr Abernathy to call again, to examine both of them! Except that he gave her no alleviation last time, and only worried me with his talk of sanitoriums and hospitals, which to hear all over again would not do myself, Marianne or Mama any good at all!

But we are all very glad for you, dear Meg, and your fortune shall be our medicine. Mama talks of nothing else but your marriage, when she is not sitting with Marianne. You bring us all joy, and alleviate rather nicely our pains with your excellent prospects.

‘The dear children are very well, you will be glad to hear. Teddy is grown an inch, and we must order him some new shoes and clothes very soon. I cannot think how it is to be afforded at present, but we shall find a way. William is grown also, and is sometimes with us when not with his tutor—he is very gentle with Eloise, Imogen and little Clara. Teddy is learning to share his toys with his cousins, and I flatter myself you will be excessively pleased with how they have come along, when you can come to us. Nanny is always with them when I cannot spare the time, but I cannot tell you how much you are missed by the children, and by us all here at the Parsonage. '

The letter continued on in the same vein, giving little tid-bits of news of the domestic doings at Delaford House and the Parsonage, and reading of them all living life without her made Margaret suddenly miss her family. She did not have long to indulge in such feelings however, for very soon a servant was coming in with a note just delivered from Mrs Palmer's footman, inviting her to take tea at Hanover-square. With Fanny and John both gone out, Margaret welcomed the chance to go on her own, and relished the short walk that would take her to the residence of the Palmers.

She knew that Mrs Palmer had heard of her engagement, for the lady had called after the engagement had been announced, but they had all been out and Margaret was too polite not to have been somewhat mortified to have missed Mrs Palmer, who, as silly as she was, had taken care of Marianne so kindly for six weeks.

Thus, despite the snowy streets, Margaret took herself outdoors quite cheerfully, walked the short distance to Hanover-square, and duly knocked on the door of number nineteen. She was received with great civility into the drawing room by Mr Palmer, who was in the corner with a newspaper and his snuff box, and with pleasure by Mrs Palmer. She was quickly brought to the sofa where this latter set upon her guest immediately.

‘I am monstrous glad to see you, Miss Dashwood! How kind it was of you come when I was so sure you would have far better things to do, such as buying your wedding clothes, perhaps? I said to Mama only last week Friday, that we must call on you and your brother again, this very week, to congratulate you, for we heard it all from Mrs Brandon—have you heard from her since she left?—but what a fine thing it is to hear of an engagement, I said to myself when I heard, for there is nothing like it to make everyone around quite jolly! '

‘You are very kind!' remarked Margaret politely.

‘Such a handsome gentleman, and so much a favourite with all the young ladies! But I am quite in a lather that you will be thinking yourself in some way beneath him, when there is no great wonder your liking each other, for he is handsome and rich, and you my dear are quite pretty enough to catch anyone, despite your lack of fortune, and so it is no wonder he felt an attachment straight away! You must tell me how it all came about—I confess myself quite wild to hear such things, for there never was a better story to cheer the heart than to hear how someone fell in love with their beau! Is there Mr Palmer? See how he ignores me, but Mr Palmer, you must congratulate Miss Dashwood on her engagement to the most eligible bachelor in town or she will think you quite deficient in manners!'

Mr Palmer, who had returned to polishing his snuff box after greeting Margaret, lifted his bewhiskered head. ‘Congratulations, Miss Dashwood,' said he very kindly. ‘Charlotte has no confidence in me, but I do wish you all happiness. No doubt my wife will extract from you all the details, and I shall leave you shortly to discuss the finer points yourselves, but believe me to be very happy for you both.'

This remark raised the laugher of his wife, who, knowing herself to be unashamedly deficient in forms of politeness, was unabashed. ‘I am a silly woman, I suppose, with all my prattle, but believe me to be just as happy for you, Miss Dashwood, as I ever was for your sisters when their turns came five years ago! How happy you must make your dear mother! Three girls, all married so very conveniently, and all such deserving gentlemen! I suppose Mr Ambrose has quite put off his old ways—and why would not he, with such a prize to make him settle down!'

Margaret was somewhat puzzled, and immediately recollecting the conversation she had overheard at Lackingtons.

She was almost about to ask what Mrs Palmer's meaning was, but she caught a glance between Mrs Palmer and her husband, and Mrs Palmer rushed to say, ‘Not that but he has not had the good taste to settle on yourself, Miss Margaret. I suppose all men must sew their wild oats, as the saying goes, before they settle—and now, you shall bring him home to the comforts of a hearth and children—you know, Miss Dashwood, I never was one to hearken to the past—why if I did, I should have ended up a spinster, for all gentlemen have a past of some kind or other! Do not you agree, dear Mr Palmer?'

This gentleman snapped shut the lid of his snuff box and remarked composedly, ‘I confess myself astonished my dear. I had supposed you were practising for spinsterhood! You have reminded me tolerably frequently of my past licentious ways, and yet I only was in love with one other lady in all my life before I met you!' He buried his head in his newspaper as his wife laughed delightedly.

‘Ha,' was the reply, ‘but you still married me, and you cannot undo it now, my dear Mr Palmer! I flatter myself that I would never have made a good spinster in any case, I have not the constitution for it!'

‘You astonish me, Charlotte,' her husband replied blandly, lifting his head, ‘for I own I had thought you practising for it every day. After all, you insist on a constitutional before breakfast, anti-bilious pills before dinner, and besides that, you sport a nose decidedly red!'

Mrs Palmer heard these insults with a glee that could surpass that of a maiden who had just been proposed to, and laughed immoderately until tears ran down her cheeks. ‘Oh Mr Palmer, you will be the death of me! Did you not hear him, Miss Dashwood, such is how he thinks of me— my dear Mr Palmer you have been reading the New Monthly too frequently! Oh, how Mr Palmer makes me laugh, Miss Dashwood, I declare!'

Margaret, who had become used to the differences of address between Mr Palmer and his wife, and to his visitors, only smiled, but their party was now interrupted by the arrival of Mrs Jennings, who was being shown into the drawing room with her usual air of hurrying importance.

When she had kissed her daughter, she sat herself heavily upon the sofa, on the other side of Margaret. ‘Why, I am ever so happy to hear of your news, Miss Margaret! Upon my word, we have not seen you since your sister left us last month! Now, you must tell me how the whole business came about? I suppose it was the work of your sister-in-law, getting you introduced to him, for she has so many acquaintance here, and he is so very eligible as would attract any female he wanted, but he wanted you! There now, you blush and it is all my own fault—I meant only that you should never think, my dear, that he outranks you, for you bring such beauty to the union as would more than make up for any lack of fortune!'

‘That is just what I said to Miss Dashwood just before you came in, Mama,' cried Mrs Palmer exultantly, ‘I have never seen a creature so pretty as Miss Dashwood, and he would be a fool not to claim her at once!'

‘Indeed,' agreed Mrs Jennings. ‘I have no notion, you know,' she added conspiratorially to Margaret, ‘of people's making such a to-do over money and rank and such like—love is impervious to such things, upon my soul, for my own dear Mr Jennings did not give a toss about my own lack of fortune! I suppose it was my face he must have loved, although I cannot think what he liked about this old moon-face of mine!' Here she cackled along with her daughter as her little joke. ‘But tell me my dear, are you very much in love?'

Margaret, who had had time to collect her thoughts, replied with a little hesitation, ‘Oh yes, that is, I think very highly of Mr Ambrose.'

To which Mrs Jennings replied, ‘Of course you do, and rightly so. I suppose your brother gives his approval readily? Of course he must, for it would be hard to disprove such a man, with such a fortune and rank, and standing to inherit very nicely when his uncle passes!'

In order to subvert the conversation which was leading to many blushes on her own part, she made bold to enquire after Lady Middleton and found that they went on very well at Barton. ‘But, my dear,' cried Mrs Jennings, mid-explanation, ‘I have just this minute thought of a very grand idea—I was going to Bond-street to the milliner, because my daughter Middleton has asked me to look up some lace to make up some new caps which she was not able to get while she was here—in any case the long and short of it is, do come with me in my carriage to Bond-street and look over the laces with me? You might buy some yourself, for your sisters even, if you like? Then we shall go on to Gunters—it shall be my treat! Charlotte shall come too, will not you, my dear?'

Margaret, feeling herself quite excused from being present at Harley-street to receive Fanny home, since she was given no time of expected return, allowed that she might accompany them both, and only ten minutes later was comfortably housed in Mrs Jennings' smart carriage, and observing the covering of sludgy snow and ice as they rumbled and slid carefully toward Bond-street to Mrs Jennings' favourite milliner.

Inside, they were some time examining the laces, although Margaret smiled at herself, for it seemed that somehow she had put off all her country airs and peculiarities and was almost as interested in the hats, caps, laces, ribands and assorted fruits and figures one might choose to adorn a fashionable head. It had only been two months, and yet she had undergone quite a change in preferences and ideas of fashion, having learned through her sister-in-law, and perhaps by dint of her wishing to make a good impression, that pretty gowns and strategically angled bonnets were not, after all, her worst enemy!

Having made their purchases, they re-entered Mrs Jennings' carriage and set off for Gunters, which was situated very near Mrs Jennings' own residence in Berkley-square. ‘I shall be delighted to drop you off at Harley-street, Miss Margaret,' she said kindly, ‘but not until I have seen you take your fill of marzipan and tea or whatever you young people prefer these days! Let us find a table, for I cannot abide standing about to drink my tea!'

They were shown to a table by a handsomely dressed footman, and soon hot green tea, and a plate of marzipans and other sweetmeats was presented to the table. Margaret looked about her as Mrs Jennings and Mrs Palmer conversed, and as she sipped her tea, she happened to notice a smart carriage pull up almost outside the window.

A smart carriage, a very usual sight in London's many streets, should not raise any eyebrows at all, and at first Margaret's attention was not captured for more than a second, until she turned back with a small frown, for she recognized the green and gold crest emblazoned on the sides. In the next moment, her suspicions turned to conviction, accompanied by the most amazed perplexion. The door of the carriage had been flung open almost at once by its owner, and out stepped from the vehicle Mr Claymore, in his usual great coat and tall hat, and immediately behind him, emerged none other than her very own Mr Ambrose, who was supposed by his friends to be presently in Ramsgate.

His being in town was odd enough, but Margaret marvelled at his countenance even more, for it was not that of his usual elegant repose, but was decidedly one of a gentleman most inconvenienced. His usually composed appearance was now excessively dishevelled, as if he had been involved in a skirmish, and his complexion most ruddy and excited. This would have been astonishing enough, but Margaret was yet to be tried even more, for when the carriage shook a little, she realized that there was a third occupant in the carriage, and now she could not but help making some loud exclamation, for following the two gentlemen from the carriage now stepped out none other than Captain John Edwin, his neat brown hair and fine profile making him all the more distinguishable to his invisible observer.

This latter uttered a gasp, and struck her hand to her mouth.

‘Are you well, Miss Margaret?' enquired Mrs Jennings with concerned kindness.

‘Yes, very well!—my tea—it is a little hot—forgive me!' Margaret's face was quite pale and she fanned herself to cover her discomposure.

‘Take your time, my dear girl, take your time! We are in no hurry at all, bless your heart!' Oblivious to Margaret's discomposure, Mrs Jennings began immediately to engage her in a discussion of the merits of black lace over cream, while the latter sought to cover her rising astonishment and turned back to the scene outside with fascination.

Through the glass window, Margaret saw that Captain Edwin was speaking some words to his companion, and the latter, accompanied by a most bitter expression, turned on his heel and was gone from sight, walking quickly in the direction of Hay Hill. Very soon after, Mr Claymore and Captain Edwin parted also, Mr Claymore getting into his carriage and Captain Edwin striding off in the opposite direction to the one Mr Ambrose had taken.

It was quite obviously a quarrel, and yet no sense could Margaret make of it all. That Captain Edwin would be in town was perhaps understandable, for he himself had admitted that he came from time to time. Nor was it astonishing that he should share a carriage with his cousin. But the entire scene had had about it an air of something distasteful, and Margaret was troubled deeply by what she had seen, although she could attach no meaning to it presently.

She became aware that Mrs Palmer was asking her to admire the bonnet of a lady they had seen sitting nearby. Although she was never less disposed to speak than at that moment, she pretended to peer around and managed to make some remark which satisfied Mrs Jennings and Mrs Palmer.

Her distress was not noticed by her friends, too busily employed in conversation as they were, and Margaret was left to her thoughts for a few moments. To see her own Mr Ambrose in town when he ought to have been in Ramsgate was most strange, but what in heaven was he doing in a carriage with Captain Edwin, whom she had not seen since they had departed Norland. What could Captain Edwin's business be with Charles Ambrose? Would he call into Harley-street to see John and Fanny?

Her thoughts were a tumble of confusion. What did it mean? It was the oddest thing, and she was now only eager to get home and wait for the visits which must surely be made, by Captain Edwin, and her own Mr Ambrose. Soon all would be explained, she was sure!