"I do not recommend most solid food for the first year of life," he replied, "indeed, poor Isabella and poor Emma did not take any thing thicker than pudding for the first two years, if I recall aright - and then gruel, a nice thin gruel, may be taken. But I think your little Anna is not quite ready for that yet. She has only two teeth. The greatest care must be taken of her teeth, you know. Babies are delicate plants, especially young lady babies."
"That's a consideration," cried Mr. Weston. "I am sure little Anna will like some of Mr. Woodhouse's good gruel when she is old enough. But you were talking about the Sucklings, Emma. I hope you will invite them to Hartfield; we will have them to Randalls, will we not, my dear? In the winter, at such times as these, good company, good fires, good cheer, and plenty of it, is what is needed to help us all on."
"There, you see, Emma," said Mr. Knightley with a smile, "you are out voted. But do not dread the event. With your interest in studying human nature, Mrs. Suckling will be sure to afford you a new subject. You know you will be talking of her and thinking of her, and so she will be a new source of pleasure, in one sense."
"Very well," said Emma with a sigh, "I shall send out my cards, and we will have a full dinner, in state, for the Sucklings. I am sure they will be horrible in every way."
PART TEN
It was a very great event, that a dinner for as many as ten people should be given at Hartfield on a dark and early February evening, but all the invitations were accepted, and the Eltons, the Sucklings, and the Westons, as well as Miss Bates, joined the Knightleys and Mr. Woodhouse, in being seated around a table with sufficient abundance and variety of food placed upon it, as to make Mr. Woodhouse very uneasy.
"Upon my word," said Miss Bates, "this is quite - I never saw a more brilliant table, Mrs. Knightley. Goose, and pheasants, and such a pudding of larks! Goodness me! Did you ever see the like, Mrs. Weston? You, Mrs. Suckling, used as you are to great spreads, may not be surprised at the sight, but I assure you, living in such a small way as I do, I am quite overcome. But no one ever had such neighbours - shall I really have some of the goose's breast, Mr. Woodhouse? and juniper berry sauce? Do you not consider it too rich?"
"Indeed I do think goose is a meat no stomach can bear," said Mr. Woodhouse, "and I would advise you to satisfy yourself, as I do, with plainer fare. The bread pudding, I think, could not harm you. Mrs. Suckling, we are honoured by your presence in this house, and I wish you to be as comfortable as possible. But I do not recommend the goose to you either, or to any body." Mrs. Suckling, a little woman with a sharp face and a very large feathered headdress, looked at him with some respect.
"Thank you for your concern, sir. My sister has told me of your great solicitude for the health of your guests, Mr. Woodhouse, and what a kind gentleman you are. Quite a worthy after my own heart. Indeed, I will follow your advice, for I never eat rich food, and very little meat at all. I prefer to eat only greens, and pulse, and a little fish."
"Is that so, Mrs. Suckling?" said Mr. Weston in wonderment, "and does this resolve proceed from a concern for your health?"
"It proceeds from a concern for every body's health, Mr. Weston," she replied, "it can be of no benefit to any one, to eat animals."
"My wife is a very fine lady," spoke up Mr. Suckling, a tall gentleman with a sarcastic expression, "ordinary food is too coarse for her, and she exists upon mere air."
"But that is so very strange!" exclaimed Miss Bates. "You resemble Jane in that - my niece Jane - Mrs. Elton will have told you all about her. Mrs. Churchill, as she is now, I should say. The most delicate appetite that any lady ever had. While she was here, I could hardly get her to take half an ounce of meat, and six to one it would reappear again though I should not say that - Jane would not like me to say that. But I assure you she grew so thin, I was quite terrified. I hope her husband, Mr. Frank Churchill, will have better luck in making her take her food properly. It is sad to see a young woman with no appetite. I like to see a young person with a bit of flesh about her. Mrs. Knightley likes to eat - Mrs. Weston does - so do we all - all except Jane - "
"I hope Mrs. Suckling will take just what she likes," exclaimed Emma, to cut Miss Bates off a little; and she attempted a change of subject. "Now that you have seen Surrey, Mrs. Suckling, how do you like this part of the country? - You cannot see many of our most striking views at this time of year, to be sure, but I hope the neighbourhood around Highbury pleases you."
"I have seen it before, in more favourable seasons, Mrs. Knightley; my sister may have told you about our exploring parties, and we have travelled very widely in all parts of England. Indeed, it was our extensive journeying that has made it necessary to delay our engagements in Highbury. We have this year travelled to Dorset - to the Lakes - to Yorkshire - to Birmingham - to London, and back again, more than once."
"She hates travelling," put in Mr. Suckling, "and it is a misery to go any where with her."
"Do not joke, my love; you know I always accompany my lord and master wherever you journey, and I make very little complaint, I assure you."
"No - you do not complain; but the degree of commotion you make about having the right sheets, and not eating any animal food, and about the draughts, and the gait of the different horses, is scarcely to be conceived. It is enough to drive one mad. Did our business, and social engagements, not require it, I should never stir from home."
"And what is your business, sir?" asked Mr. Knightley with interest. "Forgive me, but we have never heard."
"Sugar, my good sir, sugar. My plantations in the West Indies are extensive, but business cannot look after itself, and it is necessary for me to travel the country, up and down, to all four corners, in order to assure myself of the best trade."
"And does your business require that you visit the West Indies?" asked Mr. Weston curiously.
"No, no, I leave that part of the concern in the hands of others - a man cannot be everywhere at once, and I have people who can be trusted to look after my property in the West Indies, and deal with the plantations, and the rebellions, and the overseers, and the absurd death rate, and things of that nature. But we must not be distressing the ladies. Ladies do not have a head for business, you know, sir. They take on about every least thing."
"Oh, my dear brother," interjected Mrs. Elton eagerly, "I beg you should not say such a thing about ladies. Ladies are quite as capable as gentlemen: they are indeed. I always take the part of women, at every opportunity, and I am convinced that some day, women will be quite as good at business as men. I am sure I have a fine head for business, have I not, Mr. Elton? Is it not so?"
"Exactly so, my love; better than mine, truth be told. You are the business woman in our family. I do not care about it so much as you do."
"No more do I," put in Mr. Woodhouse. "Our family made its fortune so long ago, that I have never had to know any thing about it. It is very lucky. I am very glad of it. I should not like to be such a man of incessant action as you are obliged to be, sir. And I hope you will be very comfortable while you are here, and take some of our good broth, if nothing else - our broth is perfectly clear, you see, with not a speck of any thing in it, boiled just as Serle knows how to do. It is really not much stronger than water. It will settle your stomach after the hardships of your travels, I am sure."
"The sugar business!" exclaimed Emma, when her father had stopped speaking. "I am sure, Mr. Suckling, that Mrs. Elton has told us that you were a friend to the abolition. Yet you seem to imply that slaves are employed in your business."
"Certainly," he replied calmly, "I would wish to abolish the slave trade, a degrading business; but those who are already slaves, may doubtless be used with impunity. However, ladies do not understand these things."
"My dear brother, there is no limit to what ladies understand - "
"That's true - very true," said Mr. Knightley hastily, "no one wants to discuss trade at dinner. So, Mrs. Suckling, this is your first visit to Hartfield. Do you find it much like your own
home, Maple Grove, of which we have heard so much? Mrs. Elton has told us that you would say so."
"Nothing like it at all," said Mrs. Suckling. "No resemblance. Maple Grove is much larger - and much more retired. Augusta, how could you say such a thing?"
"Why, Selina, the staircase - and the garden grouping - you know it is like Maple Grove in those respects."
"Only as much as any great house is like any other. But your own house is so small, my dear Augusta, that you are no judge. You have grown accustomed to living in little rooms."
Mrs. Elton was silenced.
"Oh, Mrs. Suckling, do you think the Vicarage is small?" said Miss Bates. "If I may be allowed to contradict you, I do not think it so very small. It was always adequate for our needs, when we lived there; and now that Mr. and Mrs. Elton have a family, they may enlarge it perhaps, and make improvements."
"Another year," said Mr. Elton, "and we shall make an addition. Do you not recommend it, Mr. Suckling?"
"Whatever you like," he said indifferently, "you cannot expect to be able to afford to do much, with your present income. I have told you, Elton, that you ought to come into business with me. Sugar is the thing. That is where the money is."
"It is very tempting, my dear sir - but a clergyman the West Indies - slaves - it is perhaps not compatible with the duty I owe to my parish."
"Such scruples are absurd. How do you suppose I can afford to give my Selina her barouche-landau, and all the luxuries of Maple Grove, were it not for sugar? We are not of an old landed family, you know, and must do the best we can for ourselves. A clergyman, in these days, is not expected to starve himself in the name of duty."
"And you must remember, Augusta, that howsoever rich we may be, we cannot be expected to help you, should you grow impoverished; for we have a family of our own, and all our money must go to our dear children," said Mrs. Suckling, nodding vehemently until her feathered headdress shook.
"I should not think of anything else, sister," said Mrs. Elton, rather offended, and not knowing where to look to hide her embarrassment.
Emma, amazed by the real vulgarity and heartlessness of such a discussion at her own dinner-table, lifted her eyes expressively. Mr. Knightley seemed to feel her distress, as well as his own, and he proposed that the gentlemen should sit apart with their port, with rather more alacrity than ordinarily was his custom.
PART ELEVEN
Conclusion at last
The Sucklings were gone from Highbury, and nobody was sorry to see them go, or regretted them when they were gone. Mrs. Suckling's g selfishness and haughtiness, not to mention the shocking revelation of her husband's involvement in a low business, had not won friends for them among those in Highbury whom they had visited. However, there was one result of their visit which might not have been expected: it was that they left behind them a new feeling of pity for Mrs. Elton, in Mrs. Knightley's bosom.
It was absolutely necessary, after that momentous dinner party, for her to talk it over with Mrs. Weston; and for once Emma found her friend tolerably disengaged, for the baby was asleep, and Mr. Weston was not at home. "I never would have believed it, Mrs. Weston," Emma began, "that I should actually feel sorry for Mrs. Elton. Never would I have thought it possible to entertain such a sentiment."
"It is very natural, Emma," said her friend, "the Eltons may have their little imperfections, but the Sucklings seem far less amiable."
"Less amiable! Far, far too weak a word. Oh, Mrs. Weston, did you not perceive that Mrs. Suckling is a cold hearted woman, who cares nothing for her sister, and disdains every body else; she is a fit wife for a man who persecutes slaves, and admits it!"
"Persecute, Emma! I must think your language is too strong. Would you like Mr. Suckling better if he did not admit his practices? But his conduct, in speaking of such matters at the dinner table, and before ladies, was certainly most improper."
"Improper! he is so very opposite to all that a gentleman should be, that I think we may take exception with any one who calls him a gentleman at all. Poor Mrs. Elton, to have such connections, and to be treated so shabbily by them. I wonder how she will talk of her dear sister Selina now - if she will dare ever mention her again, now that the veil has been removed from our eyes, and we all know what she is. I confess that I shall not be sorry to have heard the last of Maple Grove."
"Maple Grove - and Jane! Only think, my Emma, what a narrow escape Jane Fairfax has had. What if she had gone to the Sucklings' friends as governess, and found herself settled in such a society as that? Dear, dear. I hate to think of it."
"Well, you do not need to think of it; Mrs. Frank Churchill is safe, quite safe. I tell you what, Mrs. Weston, I have made a resolution, and it is that in future, I shall be kinder to Mrs. Elton."
Mrs. Weston smiled gently, and looked up from the infant's dress she was embroidering. "I do not think you will regret it, my dear Emma," she said wisely.
The new friendship of Mrs. Knightley and Mrs. Elton could not be said to leap ahead into any remarkable intimacy. It did not proceed with the youthful rapidity of Emma's infatuation for Harriet Smith, or Mrs. Elton's own with Jane Fairfax. They were older, wiser, soberer women now, who had learned to judge their neighbours better, and to move more cautiously. But they worked amicably on parish affairs, visited the cottages of the poor together, and as Emma remained unpersuadable on the subject of card parties, they finally did unite, after all, to form a musical society, an institution that brought the greatest of pleasure and satisfaction to them both. Mrs. Elton had neglected her instrument shamefully since her marriage; but so had Mrs. Knightley, and neither was therefore in any danger of outdoing the other's musical or vocal performance in any alarming way. Emma was quite certain that Augusta's skill on the pianoforte was comfortably inferior to her own; and Augusta thought that her own performance was just so superior, as to be in no danger of any challenge from Emma.
Music, though a pleasant diversion, could not be as important or prominent in the lives of the two young women as their own growing families; for it was less than a year after the birth of Mrs. Elton's caro bambino, that Mrs. Knightley, too, gave birth to a son, quite as stout and healthy as Mrs. Elton's own child. And so, apart from the disputations that arose over which lady would receive precedence in all the drawing rooms of Highbury, and the resentment that occasionally arose in Augusta's bosom when she felt her husband was not held in sufficient esteem by Knightley, and the jealousies that were uncovered whenever Mrs. Frank Churchill made a visit and was in demand simultaneously at Hartfield and the vicarage - apart from these little differences, and conflicts, and rubs, there was no end to the perfect happiness and amity in which they all lived together.
MRS ELTON IN AMERICA
CHAPTER ONE
Mrs. Elton always wished to be going somewhere. By the time she had been ten years married, the little fit of restlessness that ` was habitual with her, had risen to a storm. Nothing would do, she thought, but a tour to the Alps - or a sail upon the Mediterranean - or an exploring party to Italy. On the whole, that country held the most attractions for Mrs. Elton: many great ladies, she knew, had journeyed to Rome and to Florence and brought back statues; and of all things, she longed to emulate their example. A preserve of statues would look well in the Vicarage garden.
Want, as is too usual in such cases, would have to be her master; for he who was her master, in fact and in deed, would not budge. Unlike his wife, Mr. Elton did not want to be travelling. Why should he? England, in his opinion, was the very finest country in the world, and had the finest towns; and of them all, what could be finer than Highbury? Then, of all houses in Highbury, the vicarage, improved as it had been over the years of Mr. Elton's incumbency, was now one of the very finest of all. It had been hardly habitable when first he came into possession - very nearly a ruin - but with the labour of several succeeding summers, and considerable of the money his wife had brought into the marriage, much had been done. The house had been brought to sit farther back from the roa
d. This measure had been rendered necessary by the increase in the movement of traffic in and out of Highbury in recent years, for wagons and chariots went by with such frequency now-a-days, even on quiet Vicarage Lane, as to be quite a nuisance. The new placement, setting the house amongst its own lawns and shrubbery, gave it a look of more consequence. It followed that a carriage-sweep and gravel road must be made, the stables and offices moved, and a great increase in plantation undertaken. To be sure, all these expenditures would pay for themselves in time - the new fruit-trees would bring a handsome profit in a very few years - it was the most certain thing in the world - but just at present Mr. Elton discovered himself more straitened in a financial way than he had ever expected to be. None could be more surprised at becoming poorly off than the Eltons. Surely single-minded, self-serving behaviour, applied over the steady course of a decade's marriage, ought to have reaped a better reward than this. His caution, and her economy, deserved more.
Mr. Elton knew that he was not to blame, or if he were, it was only in giving way to the fancy of his wife, and being too liberal, too acquiescent, in meeting her wants and plans. In former days, the vicarage had been well enough for a single man, but it was beyond all comparison too squalid for such a family as theirs. Mrs. Elton's assurances that she would never aspire to such a situation as her sister's, nor take the great house at Maple Grove for her model, went for nought; and whenever there was a choice between the two different ways of doing a thing, it was always, "Let us not have anything pitiful. At Maple Grove it was never thought necessary. Let us have two orchards - one with cherry trees and the other with apples - I would not quarrel with you for a fortune, my love, over mere money, that would be vulgar and the six orchards of Maple Grove would be impossible for us to imitate; but I should feel sorry if you did not have all the cherry-pies you liked, Mr. Elton; and you know where there are children, there must be apples."
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