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Margaret Dashwood

Chapter 15: CHAPTER XIII
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About This Book

The youngest of the Dashwood sisters matures from adolescence into young adulthood while acting primarily as a calm, attentive observer of her family’s domestic and romantic shifts. Living at Barton Cottage, she watches her elder sisters and their acquaintances navigate attachments, misunderstandings, and social expectations, learning through small acts and overheard conversations. Encounters with neighbors and relatives—affable hosts, a reserved suitor, a steady friend, and a meddling older woman—shape her view of love, kindness, and the burdens of generosity. The narrative emphasizes quiet growth, social interplay, and the everyday teasing and trials that accompany coming of age within a closely connected community.

CHAPTER XIII

Sir John Middleton was so fond of parties that not many days were ever allowed to elapse without his forming some plan to bring young people together. His activities were very well thought of in general, and it was perhaps only the family at Barton Cottage, who were perforce included in all his schemes, who wished him less hospitable and enterprising.

The occasion of Elinor and Edward Ferrars staying at Barton Cottage must receive some special mark of attention from the Park. They dined there as a matter of course, and they drank tea there on the next day, but these entertainments, though they seemed to be sufficient to the Ferrars, were to Sir John the merest foreshadowing of the delights he had in store for them. There was to be a picnic, a ball, and if possible theatricals, and all were set on foot with eagerness.

The picnic was the most easily arranged. They would all walk or drive next Monday to the Priory and eat a cold collation there among the ruins. The Careys and the Whitakers were to be invited, and they would all be together and better able to plan for future happiness.

Monday came, and was not more unsuitable for picnicking than July days usually are. The air was mild, the rain only slight and intermittent, and the ground not particularly wet. It was a pleasant day for walking, and the party from Barton decided to walk as the ruins were little more than a mile distant. The Careys had farther to come and would drive or ride. Only the youngers of this family were to be expected. Sir Francis and Lady Carey were disinclined to leave their home occupations whenever Sir John Middleton wanted a little company, but the young people would arrive in satisfactory numbers, Walter Carey, who would be the next baronet, his two elder sisters, and his two younger sisters in charge of their governess. The Whitakers, a middle-aged couple with a son and a daughter, had accepted and would certainly drive.

The Barton party was the largest. Sir John and Lady Middleton and their children, Mrs. Jennings and Miss Steele, reinforced by Mr. Atherton and the four from Barton Cottage would have made a very respectable picnic-party without the distant neighbours who had been asked to join them, but Sir John delighted in numbers, and considered any gathering that consisted of less than twenty persons as lamentably small.

The party were to meet at noon, enjoy the cold viands that Lady Middleton provided, explore the ruins, and discuss the theatricals. Anyone who had any ideas on the subject was to produce them, and between them all something good would be decided.

Lady Middleton was to drive with the children and baskets, and Mr. Atherton was active in getting them seated in the carriage and the baskets handed in. Several small jokes passed between him and Annamaria, and William wished him to drive with them. Amidst much that was affected in him, his liking for children seemed as genuine as their affection for him, and Lady Middleton smiled on him with extreme graciousness. She had felt hitherto not the slightest inconvenience from the continued intimacy with the new incumbent, and now began to think him a positive acquisition. He watched the carriage start to overtake the main body, already on their way. Sir John escorted Mrs. Dashwood and Elinor. Margaret had the society of Mrs. Jennings and Miss Steele, which suited her very well, as they did all the necessary talking. Mr. Atherton found that Edward Ferrars had remained behind to walk with him.

It was natural that they should fall into some talk, some comparison of their parishes. Barton seemed to have the advantage in some ways. It was smaller. There was less visiting to be done among the poorer parishioners. The income was slightly larger, but it was annoying to find that the parsonage at Delaford did seem to be superior in size, and in extent of grounds, and that, though the Barton vicarage had been altered and improved, it did not appear that it was in any way equal. Mr. Atherton expressed some surprise at hearing of so fine a house, but added that he supposed Mrs. Edward Ferrars’s fortune must be an assistance to her husband in maintaining such a style of living.

Edward was puzzled. Elinor’s fortune was no more than the thousand pounds inherited from her grand-uncle, and he was at a loss to understand why it should be supposed to be considerable. He hesitated, remarked coldly that the Miss Dashwoods had not been wealthy, and began to talk of the best breeds of cattle. Mr. Atherton became more or less silent, that is, he replied when Edward asked questions, but originated nothing himself. He was thinking, and the sum of his thoughts was that the late rebuff might be all for the best. He did not feel much affection for Margaret if she were without fortune. He liked her very well, and admired her more than any other lady of his acquaintance, but he now felt quite satisfied with the turn affairs had taken. During that walk to the Priory, while discussing short-horns with Mr. Ferrars, he finally withdrew his pretensions to Margaret’s hand.

Meanwhile, Margaret, unaware of her loss, walked beside Mrs. Jennings and heard the flow of joking and laughter which she kept up with Miss Steele, and thought of something quite different.

The Careys had arrived at the Priory before them, but nothing could be done about unpacking the baskets till the Whitakers should be there. The time must be spent in exploring the ruins, and strolling about in twos and threes. Margaret was easily induced by Walter Carey to climb the remains of an old tower, and from thence to obtain a fine view of the country. It was a delightful exercise with just enough of effort and danger to make it entertaining, and to make his steadying hand acceptable. She enjoyed the small adventure, and found Walter an agreeable companion. He was just returned home from Oxford, was well-read and sufficiently talkative, and added the advantage of an agreeable person to those of an easy manner and an intelligent mind. They returned to the main party well pleased with themselves and with each other.

The party were now collected. Mr. and Mrs. Whitaker and Mrs. Jennings seemed to find great pleasure in meeting, and were settled with Mrs. Dashwood on a bank sheltered from the breeze by a corner of ancient wall. Lady Middleton overlooked the unpacking of the baskets, which was being done by Elinor and Isabella Carey, while Penelope Carey and Mary Whitaker carried round the trays of cakes and glasses. Sir John was joking with Miss Steele, and cutting up veal pies, and Henry Whitaker handed plates.

Mr. Atherton had arranged the children round a fallen stone as table with the Careys’ governess at one end, and himself at the other, and had piled the table with the good things. This looked the most cheerful corner, but Margaret was not invited to join them. Walter found a seat for her under an arch, and Edward strolled up to tell her that he supposed she knew that she looked very picturesque, like a saint in a window, or something of that sort. She was used to his brotherly teasing, and made some suitable replies at about the level of the wit that is usual at these gatherings, when no one says anything that they, or any others consider worth a second thought.

It was all very agreeable, and the rain held off surprisingly. Every one declared that they ate twice as much in the open air as they did at home, and wondered why they did not come here more often; and got rather sleepy, and then rather restless—and at last it must be time to go home.

“But this will never do,” cried Sir John. “We have decided nothing about the play.”

“How charming it would be if we could have it here!” exclaimed Isabella Carey. “What a background that fine Norman arch would be! Surely there is some play that would suit these surroundings?”

“Hamlet” and “Macbeth” were suggested, but Sir John wanted something with more in it to amuse.

“How about ‘The Taming of the Shrew’ or that laughable play of Mr. Sheridan’s, ‘The Rivals’ I think it’s called, or ‘The School of Rivals,’ or something of the sort?”

These, however, were ruled out. Walter Carey was firm that a ruined church was not the right setting for them.

“Well, then, much better have it in the Park grounds!” said Sir John. “There is a nice open space not too far from the house, with trees and a flight of steps that would make a scene to suit anything.”

A few drops of rain began to fall and Lady Middleton, in fear for her children catching cold, hurriedly suggested that all should return to the Park, look at the place Sir John described, and talk over all the details under cover. Wraps were hastily found, and the party set off with utmost expedition for the Park.