by Jane Austen
“It is a funny thing, is it not, Miss Maisie, that they were both here in Sanditon without so much of a hint of regard apparent, yet removed to Eastbourne a romance begins to flourish between them! He has family in Sanditon so I expect, should the attachment continue to a desirous end, that the wedding would take place here.”
What joy Thursdays were! They could not be hurried to come soon enough and Maisie was grateful that one of the Parker boys had fallen from a gatepost and quite badly hurt an elbow, a knee, and a forehead. In attending the poor child, she found her mind was quite occupied and for as many days as could be managed in the week, she was called upon to attend him. He was an innately good child, better now for the restraint that his injuries put upon him. Each day she visited had the same pattern; he would chatter (his mind was lively), ask her to sing songs, play games, and do tricks, until exactly one hour later when he had quite worn himself out he would sleep, his little golden head angelically poised on his pillow for two hours at least. But Maisie was not to move, not to leave him, she must sit by him even when he slumbered with as much vigilance as was expected from her when he was awake.
Now, could she have picked up a book to amuse herself then an hour or two of sitting might have been made more acceptable.To have some amusement, some occupation, would at least have made two long hours seem like one short one.As she could not turn to a book for comfort, she greatly appreciated Charlotte’s visiting her and the friendship, which the latter had thought the former so in need of, thus developed. Charlotte was at odds, Abigail was no companion, she had lately taken to visiting Diana, Susan, and Arthur and was rarely to be found at Trafalgar House and so talking with Maisie fast became a pastime that Charlotte looked forward to. Gossiping is, for the most part, viewed as an undignified mode of entertainment; nevertheless, it is also one of the most enjoyable. Maisie, no talebearer by nature, soon found herself animated in Charlotte’s company; she was encouraged by her companion’s enthusiasm to talk and talk and talk. But with what could she regale her friend other than news handed down? Their minds were soon in Eastbourne and all the details of Mrs. Griffiths’s letters from Miss Lambe were recounted.
“It is thought that Miss Lambe,” said Maisie quietly,“will marry soon, you must know the gentleman, Charlotte, he went to Eastbourne from here, Mrs. Griffiths says he has family here in Sanditon.” Charlotte, now paralyzed with horror, wished tears could flow but knew they must not. Sidney! It was as she had feared and suspected. Sidney, his affections rebounding, had fallen in love with Miss Lambe. Oh to bear it was impossible, to think of him now more painful than ever it had been. She had hoped at least that his misery might have continued for a while longer.Was not so rapid a recovery to be felt as an insult? So, he had forgotten her, abandoned all feelings for her, he was cured and with a heart freshly healed was obviously more than inclined to love another.“I am all misery,” thought she. “All hope is gone. I cannot hear this. I cannot think of him.”
Maisie, not entirely insensible to Charlotte’s sudden pallor, was querulous but her charge’s golden head stirred on the pillow, and on waking he demanded drinks, games, and attention and so the two suddenly-hushed gossipers were then engaged in his entertainment and his entertainment alone. Charlotte, powerfully aware of the perils of idle talk, pleaded a headache and sought respite in her room. With a heart restless and broken she cried herself to sleep, even then, she could not escape her sorrows, she dreamed of weddings, of happy scenes and in all of these she was but a spectator. She was nothing more than a passerby witnessing the euphoria of others with a spirit fragmented and shattered.
CHAPTER 26
Surprises always bring about a freshness to a scene and Arthur Parker’s proposal of marriage to Abigail Heywood was a surprise indeed.Theirs had been a rapid love affair, born of a mutual liking, and a shared desire on the part of each to escape the confines that their respective families had imposed upon them. They were not ill-suited, neither was their love violent, but there was regard enough for the basis of a successful marriage. It is so hard to be happy on behalf of others when one’s own spirit is heavy with personal woe but Charlotte smiled and congratulated and enthused over her sister’s good fortune as best she could. Her own heart, of course, broke a little more as she did so.Abigail’s head was full of flowers, gowns, and wedding breakfasts; she was to be married from Sanditon.
“But our mother and father,” Charlotte warned, “have not left Willingden over a handful of times in their entire lives!”
Abigail was merriment itself.“They will be persuaded to come for such a happy event,” she cried.
Maisie, so newly acquainted with Sanditon, was thrilled to have such news so soon. Weddings are great uniters as well as great dividers. Conversation on Thursdays quite revolved around the Parker-Heywood union and on one Thursday in particular, Mrs. Griffiths was found not reading a letter, as was usual, but composing one.
“I am writing to our dear Miss Lambe, Maisie,” she said, gesturing for the girl to sit by her, “but I fear I must keep this missive short.The doctor will have told you I have sprained my wrist. Do you see?” she said, displaying her forearm. “I was helping Miss Beaufort to tune her harp, wretched article, when my hand quite seized. I daresay the garden party weakened it to start with. One is always obliged to hold up one’s skirts to walk on grass. We ladies suffer the most intricate injuries. Dr.Wellscott has sent the poultice, I hope.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Maisie replied.
“Well, I shall finish my letter, though Heaven’s above, the Lord knows it is a struggle to do so, but finish I must, then you may see to my wrist. I have so much to tell Miss Lambe, I truly regret writing in this scant manner for I know she relishes a nice long read. However, I keep only to the major points you see and find I can fit quite a history onto one side alone.” She spoke while writing and was coming to the point of applying her signature and her regards when she threw up her hands. “What am I about, Miss Maisie? I clean forgot to mention that Miss Abigail is betrothed to Arthur Parker! Oh dear me, I shall include that as a postscript, there, it will fit just neatly here if I restrict myself to the bare particulars.”
So, with wrist swollen and no more space on the bottom of the page than would hold a “God Bless You” she wrote: Recently engaged, Miss Heywood-Mr. Parker. “Pounce the page for me, Maisie,” she said.“My injury prevents me, I never have held with blotting, it weakens the ink.” Duly the girl powdered the letter and that afternoon when gossip was over, bandages applied, and letters gone to the post, Mrs. Griffiths declared that it would be beneficial all round if Maisie were to improve herself and obtain the skill of reading and writing.And, although it meant she had to stay an hour later than usual, she began, under Mrs. Griffiths’s instruction to absorb the basics of the alphabet, learning so quickly that by the time she left her tutor was inspired to say, “Never have I known a person acquire any skill so fast.”
The Miss Beauforts, somewhat disconcerted that full-blown romance had not come their way, had taken solace in the company of the Hollises. In Eliza and Julia they found they had fair companions and in William Hollis they were gratified to discover that they had what they sought most, an admirer.Their charms were not lost to him, and although none of the three thought their association would ever mean more than just a mild flirtation, the trio was satisfied enough with that and very soon the sight of the triad parading the promenade or frequenting the library was commonplace. It is always greatly satisfying when flirtatious young women find a devotee; they can then be happily occupied, hour after hour, by his attentions.They live to be in his gaze and flounder when they are not, whether they think anything of him at all is not to be guessed at, it is merely his sex and his flattery they seek and thrive on. Had not William Hollis elected to play this role it is without doubt the Miss Beauforts would have had no trouble in securing the regard of another, they excelled in temptation, and although they had thus far failed with Sir Edward, their eager praise-seeking spirits were not to be
dampened.
Sanditon summers, although not longer than summers elsewhere, seemed extended, felt warmer, and had a sense of endlessness about them. The sight of sun on sea is one that is always promising and that year, with all that was going on in Sanditon, it seemed that the promotion so wished for by Mr. Parker was a certainty. Wellscott had never known such business; Maisie was learning to read; a wedding was planned; and sales at Jebbs and the library had seen an increase, which could only be accounted for, according to Mr. Parker, by the general atmosphere of happiness and prosperity that surrounded the place. Was Charlotte’s the only case of despondence? To her it felt likely that all around her were in a kind of ecstasy, a delighted contentment. “Such joy eludes me,” thought she, “and, so long as I allow my heart to be owned outright by one who has no wish to cherish it, it always shall. I must quell my anguish as he has done. I must, with effort that seems beyond me, endeavor to heal, to restore.”
A fortnight was not time enough to cure Charlotte entirely, but it was time enough to allow her to give in to a reluctant acceptance that if Sidney did not love her anymore then she must not think of him further.With her feelings thus harnessed, she went about, half sad and half resigned, yet to her this was almost a state of contentment. Her impassioned tears had all been cried, her anger spent. Her love (at least she had been honest enough to own it to herself) was not to be stifled, it lived in her, warm and painful (in a sense neither dull nor piercing but constant) and so much a part of her now as to be accepted as a general feeling. She was damped down, diluted in spirit, a half functioning version of her previous self, but she was surviving. She could smile more readily in company, would play the pianoforte as best she could, but not sing, for the entertainment of others and took part, in as full a way as could be expected of her, in the daily and nightly situations that made up Sanditon life.
There came a point, around the time that the Parker boy was recovered, that she even considered herself mended. Maisie’s visits would now halt, which was a matter of regret to both and Charlotte’s initial idea was for the two to continue their meetings, but in this she was to have no success, so sought after was a visit from Dr. Wellscott’s nurse, that there was no longer a day in the week that found Maisie free. She was snatched up by other residents as soon her availability was made known, and a good deal of money was put her way in lieu of her attentions.
Charlotte could not help but think of Sidney. So there was a vow quickly broken. She could sometimes recall his features with accuracy and at other times, she could not conjure his face at all. She might hear a snippet of conversation in her mind and have his voice clear as life resounding in her ears for some time after. She would see a figure strolling the street or descending from a carriage and fleetingly imagine it to be him.The imagination of the heart-broken is torturous indeed. All these symptoms of adoration our Charlotte displayed, but determination made her disregard them, like the dull pain that resided in her bosom, the products of her imagination became an accepted element of her being. She would see Sidney walking the park, or leaving the library, or coming up the path at Trafalgar House, but she only had to blink her eyes to banish him and something like calm acceptance would be restored in her heart.
CHAPTER 27
Abigail Heywood and Arthur Parker, so much the picture of youthful levity, were often to be found at Trafalgar House. They made such a sweet couple that no one could feel threatened by them or envious of them; nor could anyone, the Miss Beauforts being the exception, attribute the lovers’ dedication to anything other than the most genuine of uncomplicated feelings.Abigail had had her moment of dreamy impracticality; she had swooned over Sir Edward Denham, savored meeting him, and secretly dreamed of securing such a man for herself.
But Abigail knew that dreams were for sleepers and reality for those who must keep awake in life and an Arthur Parker had been a catch so much more within her means than an Edward Denham would ever have been. Her practical sensibilities were entirely satisfied and her romantic needs more than catered for by Arthur’s constant gazing at her as if he could scarce believe his luck. It was something, Abigail quickly realized, to be loved more than one loved, and the outcome was that she thought herself very lovely and very desirable to be able to inspire such devotion.
But love must not be allowed to overwhelm people and wedding arrangements must be made in all seriousness; even where the bride and her needs are modest, endless talk and plans (far more than is ever truly necessary) must abound. How wearisome the subject of dresses to a prospective husband! How mystifying such a man must find his future wife’s propensity to discuss, for weeks on end, and without any sign of growing tired of the topic, the style of a gown that will be worn just once before being altered.
Arthur Parker, although very taken up with his own way of being in love, was by no means a fashionable man. He knew little of ceremonious affairs, cared nothing for them, and talk of the wedding arrangements simply washed over him.
One afternoon his beloved, in a state of unreasonable excitement, said,“The length of the sleeves and the style of the bouquet have everything to recommend them, but I fear such foliage will obscure the work on the bodice.That would be dreadful! I would not wish to have the best part of my dress concealed. It would upset the seamstress and mortify me. It is the only time I shall ever wear such a dress and I want it admired.” At this Arthur merely nodded and smiled and, unable to comprehend the application of so much energy to so simple a thing as a choice of dress or the style of bouquet, settled upon walking in the garden.The air would clear his head, what good was it for him to have thoughts of muslins and ribbons thrust upon him? He was a man.Talk of pretty things was, in his view, entirely pointless.
Trafalgar House in the summer boasted a beautiful garden, even so late in the season with autumn threatening to burn the green from the leaves.The new plants were beginning to look established and, despite the gardens being more a plan than an accomplishment, there was something promising to be found there.Arthur, the fresh air being just the means to wipe his mind free of his loved one’s trousseau, was musing to himself that his attachment to Abigail had brought a significant reduction in his bilious attacks. His health, in general, had improved. He thought, with more than a little smugness, of the future fulfillments and comforts that were now secured as his own. How true it must be that Sanditon was a restorative place.
“For I am cured!” he said aloud,“and happy and … ” it seemed incredible but he went on to confess joyfully,“ … in love?” He was as near to elation as he had ever been and, therefore, little prepared for any form of confrontation. But suffer such an encounter he must, for soon an adversary would be upon him, questioning, demanding, and accusing in a manner so violent and terrifying as to abolish all Arthur’s previous feelings of gratification. Poor Arthur. Sidney Parker was, and always had been, a good deal taller and stronger than his brother Arthur. The latter’s first thoughts on seeing his elder brother were only of gladness. He, Arthur, concerned himself, upon regarding Sidney’s determined approach toward him in the garden, with how elated a welcome he would show him.There was so much good news to impart! Alas, the friendly nature of Arthur’s salutations was only to be disregarded and Sidney, with a look both grieved and angry in his eye, raised his voice to his brother.
“Arthur, I will not prevail upon you any longer than is necessary, for fear it might do damage to us both.You cannot think me arrived here for nothing. I have news of your engagement and wish only to know one thing.” He was overwrought, distracted, and there was a very great need to steady himself before he posed the question which he could barely ask without a good deal of incredulity in his voice.“Do you love her?”
Was this some aggressive form of brotherly concern? Was it mere impudence? Or was it derangement? Surely Sidney could have no objection to his, Arthur’s, intention to marry Abigail. Arthur was not the cleverest of men but he knew himself to be fortunate in securing Abigail’s heart as his own. His brother, indeed his
whole family, must surely share his relief at the success of his attachment. It had after all, been wholly unexpected that he, Arthur, would ever marry. That he, of all people, should have succeeded in gaining any woman’s regard was a matter that could only be considered pleasing. His brother Sidney’s apparent outrage did not make any sense at all.
Arthur recoiled from the impassioned questioning and answered quietly, with careful consideration of Sidney’s agitated performance.“No less than I ought,” said he,“and no more than is wise. I love in my own way,” he said apologetically, “which is, I daresay, to be viewed as deficient in the eyes of those more prone to fervor, but the object of my affections does not complain, she does not find herself deprived, so I go along and go about as I see fit.”
Sidney paled.“And this,” cried he, all pain and astonishment,“is love enough for you I imagine, but is it really love enough for her? I cannot believe your style, your relaxed manner, could truly satisfy her. I think you are very much deceived in her.” He threw his coat off and cried in a mocking tone, “She does not complain! Ha! She does not find herself deprived! No! She clearly has an easy way of settling then, a very rapid manner of attaching and detaching wheresoever she pleases.” He gave Arthur a look that indicated he demanded an explanation before he set off to walk in the garden.
