Chapter Chapter 18 · It was the beginning of February; and Anne, having been a month in

. It was the beginning of February; and Anne, having been a month in

Bath, was growing very eager for news from Uppercross and Lyme. She

wanted to hear much more than Mary had communicated. It was three weeks

since she had heard at all. She only knew that Henrietta was at home

again; and that Louisa, though considered to be recovering fast, was

still in Lyme; and she was thinking of them all very intently one

evening, when a thicker letter than usual from Mary was delivered to

her; and, to quicken the pleasure and surprise, with Admiral and Mrs

Croft’s compliments.

The Crofts must be in Bath! A circumstance to interest her. They were

people whom her heart turned to very naturally.

“What is this?” cried Sir Walter. “The Crofts have arrived in Bath? The

Crofts who rent Kellynch? What have they brought you?”

“A letter from Uppercross Cottage, Sir.”

“Oh! those letters are convenient passports. They secure an

introduction. I should have visited Admiral Croft, however, at any

rate. I know what is due to my tenant.”

Anne could listen no longer; she could not even have told how the poor

Admiral’s complexion escaped; her letter engrossed her. It had been

begun several days back.

“February 1st.

“MY DEAR ANNE,

I make no apology for my silence, because I know how little people

think of letters in such a place as Bath. You must be a great deal too

happy to care for Uppercross, which, as you well know, affords little

to write about. We have had a very dull Christmas; Mr and Mrs Musgrove

have not had one dinner party all the holidays. I do not reckon the

Hayters as anybody. The holidays, however, are over at last: I believe

no children ever had such long ones. I am sure I had not. The house was

cleared yesterday, except of the little Harvilles; but you will be

surprised to hear they have never gone home. Mrs Harville must be an

odd mother to part with them so long. I do not understand it. They are

not at all nice children, in my opinion; but Mrs Musgrove seems to like

them quite as well, if not better, than her grandchildren. What

dreadful weather we have had! It may not be felt in Bath, with your

nice pavements; but in the country it is of some consequence. I have

not had a creature call on me since the second week in January, except

Charles Hayter, who had been calling much oftener than was welcome.

Between ourselves, I think it a great pity Henrietta did not remain at

Lyme as long as Louisa; it would have kept her a little out of his way.

The carriage is gone to-day, to bring Louisa and the Harvilles

to-morrow. We are not asked to dine with them, however, till the day

after, Mrs Musgrove is so afraid of her being fatigued by the journey,

which is not very likely, considering the care that will be taken of

her; and it would be much more convenient to me to dine there

to-morrow. I am glad you find Mr Elliot so agreeable, and wish I could

be acquainted with him too; but I have my usual luck: I am always out

of the way when any thing desirable is going on; always the last of my

family to be noticed. What an immense time Mrs Clay has been staying

with Elizabeth! Does she never mean to go away? But perhaps if she were

to leave the room vacant, we might not be invited. Let me know what you

think of this. I do not expect my children to be asked, you know. I can

leave them at the Great House very well, for a month or six weeks. I

have this moment heard that the Crofts are going to Bath almost

immediately; they think the Admiral gouty. Charles heard it quite by

chance; they have not had the civility to give me any notice, or of

offering to take anything. I do not think they improve at all as

neighbours. We see nothing of them, and this is really an instance of

gross inattention. Charles joins me in love, and everything proper.

Yours affectionately,

“MARY M——.

“I am sorry to say that I am very far from well; and Jemima has just

told me that the butcher says there is a bad sore-throat very much

about. I dare say I shall catch it; and my sore-throats, you know, are

always worse than anybody’s.”

So ended the first part, which had been afterwards put into an

envelope, containing nearly as much more.

“I kept my letter open, that I might send you word how Louisa bore her

journey, and now I am extremely glad I did, having a great deal to add.

In the first place, I had a note from Mrs Croft yesterday, offering to

convey anything to you; a very kind, friendly note indeed, addressed to

me, just as it ought; I shall therefore be able to make my letter as

long as I like. The Admiral does not seem very ill, and I sincerely

hope Bath will do him all the good he wants. I shall be truly glad to

have them back again. Our neighbourhood cannot spare such a pleasant

family. But now for Louisa. I have something to communicate that will

astonish you not a little. She and the Harvilles came on Tuesday very

safely, and in the evening we went to ask her how she did, when we were

rather surprised not to find Captain Benwick of the party, for he had

been invited as well as the Harvilles; and what do you think was the

reason? Neither more nor less than his being in love with Louisa, and

not choosing to venture to Uppercross till he had had an answer from Mr

Musgrove; for it was all settled between him and her before she came

away, and he had written to her father by Captain Harville. True, upon

my honour! Are not you astonished? I shall be surprised at least if you

ever received a hint of it, for I never did. Mrs Musgrove protests

solemnly that she knew nothing of the matter. We are all very well

pleased, however, for though it is not equal to her marrying Captain

Wentworth, it is infinitely better than Charles Hayter; and Mr Musgrove

has written his consent, and Captain Benwick is expected to-day. Mrs

Harville says her husband feels a good deal on his poor sister’s

account; but, however, Louisa is a great favourite with both. Indeed,

Mrs Harville and I quite agree that we love her the better for having

nursed her. Charles wonders what Captain Wentworth will say; but if you

remember, I never thought him attached to Louisa; I never could see

anything of it. And this is the end, you see, of Captain Benwick’s

being supposed to be an admirer of yours. How Charles could take such a

thing into his head was always incomprehensible to me. I hope he will

be more agreeable now. Certainly not a great match for Louisa Musgrove,

but a million times better than marrying among the Hayters.”

Mary need not have feared her sister’s being in any degree prepared for

the news. She had never in her life been more astonished. Captain

Benwick and Louisa Musgrove! It was almost too wonderful for belief,

and it was with the greatest effort that she could remain in the room,

preserve an air of calmness, and answer the common questions of the

moment. Happily for her, they were not many. Sir Walter wanted to know

whether the Crofts travelled with four horses, and whether they were

likely to be situated in such a part of Bath as it might suit Miss

Elliot and himself to visit in; but had little curiosity beyond.

“How is Mary?” said Elizabeth; and without waiting for an answer, “And

pray what brings the Crofts to Bath?”

“They come on the Admiral’s account. He is thought to be gouty.”

“Gout and decrepitude!” said Sir Walter. “Poor old gentleman.”

“Have they any acquaintance here?” asked Elizabeth.

“I do not know; but I can hardly suppose that, at Admiral Croft’s time

of life, and in his profession, he should not have many acquaintance in

such a place as this.”

“I suspect,” said Sir Walter coolly, “that Admiral Croft will be best

known in Bath as the renter of Kellynch Hall. Elizabeth, may we venture

to present him and his wife in Laura Place?”

“Oh, no! I think not. Situated as we are with Lady Dalrymple, cousins,

we ought to be very careful not to embarrass her with acquaintance she

might not approve. If we were not related, it would not signify; but as

cousins, she would feel scrupulous as to any proposal of ours. We had

better leave the Crofts to find their own level. There are several

odd-looking men walking about here, who, I am told, are sailors. The

Crofts will associate with them.”

This was Sir Walter and Elizabeth’s share of interest in the letter;

when Mrs Clay had paid her tribute of more decent attention, in an

enquiry after Mrs Charles Musgrove, and her fine little boys, Anne was

at liberty.

In her own room, she tried to comprehend it. Well might Charles wonder

how Captain Wentworth would feel! Perhaps he had quitted the field, had

given Louisa up, had ceased to love, had found he did not love her. She

could not endure the idea of treachery or levity, or anything akin to

ill usage between him and his friend. She could not endure that such a

friendship as theirs should be severed unfairly.

Captain Benwick and Louisa Musgrove! The high-spirited, joyous-talking

Louisa Musgrove, and the dejected, thinking, feeling, reading, Captain

Benwick, seemed each of them everything that would not suit the other.

Their minds most dissimilar! Where could have been the attraction? The

answer soon presented itself. It had been in situation. They had been

thrown together several weeks; they had been living in the same small

family party: since Henrietta’s coming away, they must have been

depending almost entirely on each other, and Louisa, just recovering

from illness, had been in an interesting state, and Captain Benwick was

not inconsolable. That was a point which Anne had not been able to

avoid suspecting before; and instead of drawing the same conclusion as

Mary, from the present course of events, they served only to confirm

the idea of his having felt some dawning of tenderness toward herself.

She did not mean, however, to derive much more from it to gratify her

vanity, than Mary might have allowed. She was persuaded that any

tolerably pleasing young woman who had listened and seemed to feel for

him would have received the same compliment. He had an affectionate

heart. He must love somebody.

She saw no reason against their being happy. Louisa had fine naval

fervour to begin with, and they would soon grow more alike. He would

gain cheerfulness, and she would learn to be an enthusiast for Scott

and Lord Byron; nay, that was probably learnt already; of course they

had fallen in love over poetry. The idea of Louisa Musgrove turned into

a person of literary taste, and sentimental reflection was amusing, but

she had no doubt of its being so. The day at Lyme, the fall from the

Cobb, might influence her health, her nerves, her courage, her

character to the end of her life, as thoroughly as it appeared to have

influenced her fate.

The conclusion of the whole was, that if the woman who had been

sensible of Captain Wentworth’s merits could be allowed to prefer

another man, there was nothing in the engagement to excite lasting

wonder; and if Captain Wentworth lost no friend by it, certainly

nothing to be regretted. No, it was not regret which made Anne’s heart

beat in spite of herself, and brought the colour into her cheeks when

she thought of Captain Wentworth unshackled and free. She had some

feelings which she was ashamed to investigate. They were too much like

joy, senseless joy!

She longed to see the Crofts; but when the meeting took place, it was

evident that no rumour of the news had yet reached them. The visit of

ceremony was paid and returned; and Louisa Musgrove was mentioned, and

Captain Benwick, too, without even half a smile.

The Crofts had placed themselves in lodgings in Gay Street, perfectly

to Sir Walter’s satisfaction. He was not at all ashamed of the

acquaintance, and did, in fact, think and talk a great deal more about

the Admiral, than the Admiral ever thought or talked about him.

The Crofts knew quite as many people in Bath as they wished for, and

considered their intercourse with the Elliots as a mere matter of form,

and not in the least likely to afford them any pleasure. They brought

with them their country habit of being almost always together. He was

ordered to walk to keep off the gout, and Mrs Croft seemed to go shares

with him in everything, and to walk for her life to do him good. Anne

saw them wherever she went. Lady Russell took her out in her carriage

almost every morning, and she never failed to think of them, and never

failed to see them. Knowing their feelings as she did, it was a most

attractive picture of happiness to her. She always watched them as long

as she could, delighted to fancy she understood what they might be

talking of, as they walked along in happy independence, or equally

delighted to see the Admiral’s hearty shake of the hand when he

encountered an old friend, and observe their eagerness of conversation

when occasionally forming into a little knot of the navy, Mrs Croft

looking as intelligent and keen as any of the officers around her.

Anne was too much engaged with Lady Russell to be often walking

herself; but it so happened that one morning, about a week or ten days

after the Croft’s arrival, it suited her best to leave her friend, or

her friend’s carriage, in the lower part of the town, and return alone

to Camden Place, and in walking up Milsom Street she had the good

fortune to meet with the Admiral. He was standing by himself at a

printshop window, with his hands behind him, in earnest contemplation

of some print, and she not only might have passed him unseen, but was

obliged to touch as well as address him before she could catch his

notice. When he did perceive and acknowledge her, however, it was done

with all his usual frankness and good humour. “Ha! is it you? Thank

you, thank you. This is treating me like a friend. Here I am, you see,

staring at a picture. I can never get by this shop without stopping.

But what a thing here is, by way of a boat! Do look at it. Did you ever

see the like? What queer fellows your fine painters must be, to think

that anybody would venture their lives in such a shapeless old

cockleshell as that? And yet here are two gentlemen stuck up in it

mightily at their ease, and looking about them at the rocks and

mountains, as if they were not to be upset the next moment, which they

certainly must be. I wonder where that boat was built!” (laughing

heartily); “I would not venture over a horsepond in it. Well,” (turning

away), “now, where are you bound? Can I go anywhere for you, or with

you? Can I be of any use?”

“None, I thank you, unless you will give me the pleasure of your

company the little way our road lies together. I am going home.”

“That I will, with all my heart, and farther, too. Yes, yes we will

have a snug walk together, and I have something to tell you as we go

along. There, take my arm; that’s right; I do not feel comfortable if I

have not a woman there. Lord! what a boat it is!” taking a last look at

the picture, as they began to be in motion.

“Did you say that you had something to tell me, sir?”

“Yes, I have, presently. But here comes a friend, Captain Brigden; I

shall only say, ‘How d’ye do?’ as we pass, however. I shall not stop.

‘How d’ye do?’ Brigden stares to see anybody with me but my wife. She,

poor soul, is tied by the leg. She has a blister on one of her heels,

as large as a three-shilling piece. If you look across the street, you

will see Admiral Brand coming down and his brother. Shabby fellows,

both of them! I am glad they are not on this side of the way. Sophy

cannot bear them. They played me a pitiful trick once: got away with

some of my best men. I will tell you the whole story another time.

There comes old Sir Archibald Drew and his grandson. Look, he sees us;

he kisses his hand to you; he takes you for my wife. Ah! the peace has

come too soon for that younker. Poor old Sir Archibald! How do you like

Bath, Miss Elliot? It suits us very well. We are always meeting with

some old friend or other; the streets full of them every morning; sure

to have plenty of chat; and then we get away from them all, and shut

ourselves in our lodgings, and draw in our chairs, and are as snug as

if we were at Kellynch, ay, or as we used to be even at North Yarmouth

and Deal. We do not like our lodgings here the worse, I can tell you,

for putting us in mind of those we first had at North Yarmouth. The

wind blows through one of the cupboards just in the same way.”

When they were got a little farther, Anne ventured to press again for

what he had to communicate. She hoped when clear of Milsom Street to

have her curiosity gratified; but she was still obliged to wait, for

the Admiral had made up his mind not to begin till they had gained the

greater space and quiet of Belmont; and as she was not really Mrs

Croft, she must let him have his own way. As soon as they were fairly

ascending Belmont, he began—

“Well, now you shall hear something that will surprise you. But first

of all, you must tell me the name of the young lady I am going to talk

about. That young lady, you know, that we have all been so concerned

for. The Miss Musgrove, that all this has been happening to. Her

Christian name: I always forget her Christian name.”

Anne had been ashamed to appear to comprehend so soon as she really

did; but now she could safely suggest the name of “Louisa.”

“Ay, ay, Miss Louisa Musgrove, that is the name. I wish young ladies

had not such a number of fine Christian names. I should never be out if

they were all Sophys, or something of that sort. Well, this Miss

Louisa, we all thought, you know, was to marry Frederick. He was

courting her week after week. The only wonder was, what they could be

waiting for, till the business at Lyme came; then, indeed, it was clear

enough that they must wait till her brain was set to right. But even

then there was something odd in their way of going on. Instead of

staying at Lyme, he went off to Plymouth, and then he went off to see

Edward. When we came back from Minehead he was gone down to Edward’s,

and there he has been ever since. We have seen nothing of him since

November. Even Sophy could not understand it. But now, the matter has

taken the strangest turn of all; for this young lady, the same Miss

Musgrove, instead of being to marry Frederick, is to marry James

Benwick. You know James Benwick.”

“A little. I am a little acquainted with Captain Benwick.”

“Well, she is to marry him. Nay, most likely they are married already,

for I do not know what they should wait for.”

“I thought Captain Benwick a very pleasing young man,” said Anne, “and

I understand that he bears an excellent character.”

“Oh! yes, yes, there is not a word to be said against James Benwick. He

is only a commander, it is true, made last summer, and these are bad

times for getting on, but he has not another fault that I know of. An

excellent, good-hearted fellow, I assure you; a very active, zealous

officer too, which is more than you would think for, perhaps, for that

soft sort of manner does not do him justice.”

“Indeed you are mistaken there, sir; I should never augur want of

spirit from Captain Benwick’s manners. I thought them particularly

pleasing, and I will answer for it, they would generally please.”

“Well, well, ladies are the best judges; but James Benwick is rather

too piano for me; and though very likely it is all our partiality,

Sophy and I cannot help thinking Frederick’s manners better than his.

There is something about Frederick more to our taste.”

Anne was caught. She had only meant to oppose the too common idea of

spirit and gentleness being incompatible with each other, not at all to

represent Captain Benwick’s manners as the very best that could

possibly be; and, after a little hesitation, she was beginning to say,

“I was not entering into any comparison of the two friends,” but the

Admiral interrupted her with—

“And the thing is certainly true. It is not a mere bit of gossip. We

have it from Frederick himself. His sister had a letter from him

yesterday, in which he tells us of it, and he had just had it in a

letter from Harville, written upon the spot, from Uppercross. I fancy

they are all at Uppercross.”

This was an opportunity which Anne could not resist; she said,

therefore, “I hope, Admiral, I hope there is nothing in the style of

Captain Wentworth’s letter to make you and Mrs Croft particularly

uneasy. It did seem, last autumn, as if there were an attachment

between him and Louisa Musgrove; but I hope it may be understood to

have worn out on each side equally, and without violence. I hope his

letter does not breathe the spirit of an ill-used man.”

“Not at all, not at all; there is not an oath or a murmur from

beginning to end.”

Anne looked down to hide her smile.

“No, no; Frederick is not a man to whine and complain; he has too much

spirit for that. If the girl likes another man better, it is very fit

she should have him.”

“Certainly. But what I mean is, that I hope there is nothing in Captain

Wentworth’s manner of writing to make you suppose he thinks himself

ill-used by his friend, which might appear, you know, without its being

absolutely said. I should be very sorry that such a friendship as has

subsisted between him and Captain Benwick should be destroyed, or even

wounded, by a circumstance of this sort.”

“Yes, yes, I understand you. But there is nothing at all of that nature

in the letter. He does not give the least fling at Benwick; does not so

much as say, ‘I wonder at it, I have a reason of my own for wondering

at it.’ No, you would not guess, from his way of writing, that he had

ever thought of this Miss (what’s her name?) for himself. He very

handsomely hopes they will be happy together; and there is nothing very

unforgiving in that, I think.”

Anne did not receive the perfect conviction which the Admiral meant to

convey, but it would have been useless to press the enquiry farther.

She therefore satisfied herself with common-place remarks or quiet

attention, and the Admiral had it all his own way.

“Poor Frederick!” said he at last. “Now he must begin all over again

with somebody else. I think we must get him to Bath. Sophy must write,

and beg him to come to Bath. Here are pretty girls enough, I am sure.

It would be of no use to go to Uppercross again, for that other Miss

Musgrove, I find, is bespoke by her cousin, the young parson. Do not

you think, Miss Elliot, we had better try to get him to Bath?”