by Jane Austen
Mrs. Parker was lively. “The reason, and here I am reliant on supposition only, was that they thought themselves in some sort of love, my dear! The restless often yearn to quit their sphere; a maid, depend upon it, would consider herself quite high in attaching to a butler. And it can puff an older man out of all sense of himself to have a young admirer languishing at his elbow.” Here she paused to cast her eye quickly to her little girl who was apparently enthralled—if only such simple contentment could be achieved at home—by the intricacies of the carpet on which she sat. Persuaded that her daughter would be protected from the disreputable details she was about to disclose, Mrs. Parker, her voice still sunk to a mere whisper, confided, “I am more inclined to attribute their behavior to what I call animal cravings. Ungodly heathens!”
Charlotte laughed aloud before she could find the self-control to check herself. “Mrs. Parker,” cried she, “I was referring to their taking a ham, a whole one, and a soup ladle. The two bear no relation and I can only think, though I am no specialist where mysteries are concerned, that the first they intended to eat and the second they proposed to sell.”
Mrs. Parker shook her head but remained quiet. She was that breed of woman whose characteristics were somewhat quelled in her husband’s presence. This morning, however, having been afforded the opportunity to voice her opinions quite without restraint, had given Charlotte more insight into the woman’s personality than all her days in Sanditon had yet done. Mrs. Parker seemed to form her views quite without preconception and Charlotte suspected that she had no very firm belief in them.The sheer pleasure of being able to expound at will on this matter or another without too much interruption was obviously valued. Mrs. Parker was not at all harsh, her discourse erred more on the side of all that was jovial, even her most disparaging comments were made with the sort of half smile an avid gossiper wears.
Charlotte, who had liked Mrs. Parker a great deal prior to this morning, suddenly liked her all the more. She would not admit to being a great lover of gossip herself, but humorous conversation, especially that which consisted of scandals, was, as the human condition must dictate, relished. It did not escape Mrs. Parker’s notice that the nature of her relationship with Miss Heywood had altered; there was now an easy companionship between the two. The elder felt assured that her young friend had not mistaken her for a bitter busybody and the younger was relieved to find these hitherto unknown facets of her companion’s character.
The butler and the maid were not forgot, nor the ham in all its wholeness, nor the ladle. Charlotte, less eager to know the facts and more disposed to encourage her acquaintance’s tendency to gossip, was compelled to inquire further.“The vulgar butler and the maid, which great house was it they disgraced? I should dearly love to know.There would be the something diverting in passing by there, as if perhaps admiring the grounds. I daresay I would smile to myself at such a house and its embarrassing history. Is the place within walking distance ofTrafalgar House?”
Mrs. Parker threw up her hands. “Charlotte, my dear!” she said. “The setting for this bawdiest of tales was not Sanditon. Our Sanditon? Oh no, I must assure you, we have had no such disgraces sully this dear little town. Never has there been, to my knowledge at least, even a hint of scandal at Sanditon. Everything is eased here, all physical ills alleviated and even mental evils purified.You need look no farther than my own husband for all the information in the world. He is an expert on Sanditon.”
“Indeed, he seems to be,” said Charlotte,“he gives all and everything and more about his beloved resort with a passionate authority. I shall not falter then, if ever I wish to know all there can be to know about Sanditon’s merits, I shall ask Mr. Parker without hesitation. I confess, though, that my mind is such that I seek proof too often. Could Mr. Parker give me some example of a truly wicked fellow made truly good by Sanditon I should build my faith on that, rather than hearsay.”
“You have a curiously exacting nature for a woman,” said Mrs. Parker, “and in one so young it is rare. Not that I think it to be entirely bad, but you may find such a propensity, which I usually judge to be the preserve of older, scholarly, men, will hinder any hopes of success in a romantic situation.”
Charlotte laughed.“When it comes to the matter of a romantic situation I shall either be forced to tame my inclinations or I shall be obliged to attach to a person of like-mind. By your estimations, Mrs. Parker, I had best seek success with an ancient professor, besides, it will do me no harm to be as I am while at leisure, I am not actively seeking a husband.”
“Then be sure of it, my dear,” said the lady,“you will land one as soon as look at one and those avid seekers of fortune and fulfillment who go wildly out of their ways at the mere mention of an eligible gentleman will be left to gaze on in wonder.”
“By your calculation I will have little control over the matter, I shall find a husband whether I desire one or not! Oh dear, the Miss Beauforts are destined to dislike me.”
“This business of finding husbands is not to be viewed so lightly, Charlotte, there is something of an art to it you know, some consider it a talent; there are so many things to consider in the world of courtship. One must not make the wrong impression.”
“Do not worry, my dear Mrs. Parker, I shall not run off with a butler.”
Mrs. Parker sighed.“No, no, my dear, be sure you do not, there are to be no scandals at Sanditon, there never have been yet.”
On leaving Sanditon House, for it was now clear that Lady Denham might not return for some time, the three began their walk back in the midmorning air. Mrs. Parker’s attention was almost entirely taken up by her little girl’s asking questions that began with “why.” These inquiries were answered with a patient, “Well now, Alice” on each occasion with but a few exceptions. Soon the appeal of “why” had waned and “are” became the favorite of the child. She had not been so absorbed by the merits of the Moorfield carpet as her mother had supposed and demanded to know if all butlers were naughty and all chambermaids equally so.These issues could not be dealt with good-naturedly. Mrs. Parker, abashed at the effects her imprudence in talking of adult matters in the presence of a child had had, gave no response other than to hush her daughter as best she could by frowning at her.
The tantalizing white flash that had first caught Charlotte’s attention was still there.Through the openings in the elms and thorns, Miss Brereton’s ribbon was as visible to Charlotte as it had been on her first passing the place. Knowing that she might again be looking where she should not, she elected to avert her gaze, but found, on nearing the part that would give her the scene clearly, that she could not. Expecting (how rapidly intrigue grows) to find the lovers she found the area barren.The bank on which they had been sitting was now bereft of them.
But I saw Miss Brereton’s ribbons, thought Charlotte. I am certain I saw them again, more convinced than when I first glimpsed them. She looked around her, the mist had cleared now and she grew evermore certain that she was not mistaken.
Mrs. Parker, with a very forlorn Alice at her side, walked at a steady pace ahead of Charlotte and she called out. “I must hurry along, my dear.With family in the neighborhood I expect a good deal of coming and going. If you will excuse me, I have no time for taking in the picturesque. I fear we have idled to excess at Sanditon House. Besides, thoughts of entertaining always blight my delight in the outdoors.” Mrs. Parker’s great relief now was that Lady Denham had not returned to the house during their visit.What chagrin would have resulted if Alice had spoken of eavesdropped tales of disgraced butlers and chambermaids in her presence. Another advantage to Lady Denham’s absence was that Mrs. Parker had been relieved of any obligation to speak of either her husband’s or her sister-in-law’s good causes. To be saved the mortification of rallying for funds was a blessing; she would explain this failure to her husband and his sister later. The Worcestershire woman, the Charitable Repository in Burton on Trent, and the family of the hanged man might all be poorer for the fact a
s would be the Mullinses, but Mrs. Parker was, nevertheless, as happy as a person who has acknowledged her own folly can be.
There was relief to be had on Charlotte’s part, too. Mrs. Parker’s departure was most welcome. Charlotte waved to her, and to the now low-spirited little Alice, quelling what might have been deemed her unmannerly enthusiasm. She could now take in the scene that was the cause of her fascination. “I was not mistaken!” she exclaimed aloud. “That is not a flower or seagull’s feather, it is Miss Brereton’s ribbon, or something like it, and now I am all eagerness no know why the owner has discarded her adornment and left it hung like that on a bush.” Charlotte assured herself that Mrs. Parker was out of sight, waiting a while lest the woman might find cause to turn on her heel to call out to her, then she slipped through a space in the elms and headed toward the empty bank.The white flash, clear and snowy in the bright sun, urged her to quicken her step and caused her curiosity to pique.The area of grass, where Charlotte had not an hour before seen Clara Brereton sitting in an intimate posture with Edward Denham, was flattened down, noticeably so in contrast to the unified carpet that surrounded it.The ribbon, or what had at first appeared to be such, was there just as she thought, strung on a thorn on a bush. But it appeared snagged there by accident, not contrived to hang. Charlotte knew immediately that it was not the trimming she had first supposed.The silky remnant was a tattered piece of a garment. Part of a sleeve? On closer inspection it appeared to be a collar. Indeed it was a collar! “Clara Brereton does not seem such a girl, and these kinds of things, I am told, do not happen at Sanditon. Why then, would a seemingly respectable young woman see fit to remove her collar when unchaperoned in the company of a man?” said Charlotte to herself. “Even my sensibilities are rocked, and I think I might judge myself to be as liberal-minded as can be acceptable!”
The necessity to remove the collar from the bush became immediate. Its visibility to passersby, even those distant from the scene, was known to Charlotte. The pure whiteness that had attracted her attention could just as easily attract another’s. This must be avoided. Nervousness was upon her although she was not prone to it and she tore the collar swiftly from its wrongful place. Now, to get away. If Clara should return in pursuit of the lost lace Charlotte should feel embarrassed, worse than that, Sir Edward Denham might stroll down the bank and find her there. Hesitation took hold and for a while she simply stood there with the collar creased in her hand.
The first small cry she did not startle to, so shaken by her own imprudence was she, but the second clearer moan she could not dismiss. The direction of the whimper she could not have determined but the rustling of leaves took her to a small clearing where she found its source. Miss Clara Brereton, her face as pale as her sprigged muslin, was there disposed. Half sitting, half flung, it seemed, into state of indignity and discomfiture all at once. Charlotte could not contain her horror and knew that an unladylike expression had escaped her lips before she could control herself. On seeing Charlotte the young Miss Brereton began to cry, relieved at being discovered and terrified that she would not be fit to conceive a credible, if false, explanation for her demise. Her hair was all about her face and her expression was one of mortification.
“Clara, stay calm and I shall get help,” said Charlotte.
The girl was quick to protest. “No, Miss Heywood, please, I shall be recovered quite soon, if you could help me up.”
Reluctant to move the injured girl Charlotte pleaded that more damage could be caused by moving her before seeking proper advice. Miss Brereton’s defense in this matter could not be disallowed.
“We have no doctor at Sanditon, Miss Heywood, so your opinion would be as good as any.”
The girl spoke the truth. Of course there was no doctor at Sanditon, had there been such she would never have been there. For Mr. Parker would never have ventured to Willingden on the strength of his misreading a newspaper article and he should never have sprained his ankle. In not enduring such an injury he would have been deprived of being introduced into her home for the means of recovery and would therefore never had had the opportunity to encourage her thither to Sanditon. Such are the convolutions of life.
“Ah, Sanditon,” said Charlotte with some frustration,“is all that is restorative and good!”
Miss Brereton, with Charlotte’s assistance, was jostled upright, the latter suspecting that the former made far less of her injuries than she might. Out on the more open ground Charlotte and Clara sat, fatigued by exertion and wounds respectively.
“I daresay I should explain the mishap that led to my falling over,” said Miss Brereton, quietly.This Charlotte was eager to hear, her suspicions about the case had already risen to such heights as to condemn Sir Edward Denham as a vicious seducer and she was keen to learn how the apparently guileless Clara would contrive to invent an explanation for her demise.While the girl seemed taken up with concocting a story, Charlotte slipped the collar into the revers of her own sleeve.
“I often walk this bank alone,” began Clara, “I enjoy it in the mornings, it is known I walk here … alone.”
“I have no reason to doubt it, Miss Brereton, but your status, whether alone or accompanied, is of little consequence, I think it more important to know how you came to … stumble.”
“Oh yes,” said Clara, uneasy, “there was an uneven part to the ground that I had not noticed before, a ridge or a raised part, I cannot say, my foot was caught on a bramble or a branch, a root, it might have been a root, and without warning I had fallen, quite to the ground.”
The collar, now creasing in its hiding place in Charlotte’s sleeve, was sure to be missed from the girl’s neck when she returned to the house. Charlotte’s preference was to ignore the matter entirely but, whatever unpleasantness had befallen Clara, she was convinced that the girl would not want to arouse Lady Denham’s suspicions by returning home in such a peculiar state of undress. Having witnessed the attention to detail in that lady’s home not an hour before, she was persuaded that all particulars concerning anyone connected to her would be observed. Clara then must be in danger, at the very least, of the severest of reprimands. Had she not realized, due to her discomposure, that she was so exposed?
“Do you usually elect to walk without a collar, Clara?” The instinctive movement of the girl’s hand to her neck, her quick glance to her bosom, and her suddenly drawn breath all foretold of the expected. Although Charlotte had long known the girl’s loss, the young woman herself was only first discovering it.
“Oh!” exclaimed she, “where can it ... ” She broke off, words would reveal nothing, her expression revealed all. Charlotte, without explanation, jumped up and headed back in the direction of the bush on which she had first found Miss Brereton’s collar.
“Clara,” she said with a feigned look of inspiration, “I have just recalled something that I earlier overlooked, I think I know just the place you mislaid your collar and if you can wait a moment for me I shall go to get it for you.”
Miss Brereton’s surprise was apparent.“But how, and, oh … but where do you think I mislaid it?”
“Just a little way along the bank, I distinctly remember a glimpse of white, your collar is, of course, white, Miss Brereton, is it not?”
“Oh yes, yes it is.”
“Then let me get it for you, for it will not do to head home without it.”
“But I shall walk with you, Miss Heywood, it is not so far to that part of the bank, I daresay I shall be able to conceal any tears in the lace, if there are any, of course. And if it is not too far to go.”
“Of course,” said Charlotte helping the girl to her feet. She was now taken up entirely by the devising of a plan, how to take the collar from her own cuff and give the appearance of happening upon it on the grass. It was not Charlotte’s usual style to resort to devious measures, she despised deceitful behavior in others and abhorred it in herself but could see no other way to assist and protect the unfortunate girl.Their advance to the little area of the
bank in question was slow; when they were within a few yards of it, Charlotte quickened her pace, and then she ran.
“I can see it,” she called,“Miss Brereton, your collar, I can see it!” She made a show of dashing ahead, took on the actions of one stooping to pick something up and with her back turned to Miss Brereton and her left side partly hidden by bushes, pulled the collar from its place of concealment.Waving it frantically, she called out,“Is this it, Miss Brereton?” Before Clara could answer Sir Edward Denham was behind Charlotte, she started violently when he spoke.
“Good Heavens, Miss Heywood,” said he. “What in the name of goodness do you think you are doing brandishing Miss Brereton’s garments about the place?”Then, as if his voice had not caused alarm enough, he hooked his arm about hers and proceeded, with an alarmingly firm grasp, to march her in the general direction of Sanditon House. Miss Brereton did not earn his acknowledgment. What a peculiar person he was, on the one hand full of poetry and sentiment, on the other callus and insupportably selfish.These were the manners of a true seducer. Powerful manners. But poor Miss Brereton! In the morning she had been fixed in his gaze, no doubt aroused by his preposterous, but effective, method of poetic allurement. The very next she had been subjected to Heaven knew what, resulting in the sorry state that now defined her.Yet he, so definitely the offender, was not inclined to show her the slightest concern. It was too much for Charlotte.
“I think you might employ your time better by offering your arm and your firm support to Miss Brereton,” she urged. “She has been the victim of an incident this morning and I judge she is weakened by the experience.”
Sir Edward Denham smiled. “Miss Brereton,” he said with an emphasis that could not be ignored but would certainly be overheard, “should not put herself into the kinds of positions that encourage incidents to occur. I have no sympathy for her.”
