Margaret Dashwood

Affectionate mother though she was, Mrs. Dashwood rejoiced in Margaret’s departure. She had looked so thin, so weary, and so low in spirits since her illness that the sight of her was a continual distress to her mother, who knew not what to do to help her.

Elinor’s visit had coincided with a loss of confidence with Margaret of which no explanation had occurred to her mother. She did not know that she had been quoted to Margaret as reprobating instability in her friend and that so unjust and unnecessary a condemnation had been with reason resented. Mrs. Dashwood not only did not know that this remark had been repeated, she did not know that it had been made. She did, however, realize that Elinor and Margaret had no great affection for each other, beyond that proper to the tie of relationship. They were sisters, but they were not friends, and Mrs. Dashwood was conscious that she preferred their society one at a time. Marianne and Margaret had much more in common, and would be happy together, and when her Elinor had gone her Margaret would come back and all would be as before, if not more delightful than ever. Mrs. Dashwood was usually able to look forward to perfect bliss.

Sir John’s departure had begun the break-up of the party at the Park. Mrs. Jennings returned to London, taking Miss Steele with her, and Lady Middleton and the children were to follow her thither in a few days. The frequent visiting and invitations from the Park now ceased. Mr. Atherton did not intend neglect, but he was so much engaged in going to Newton Hall that he came to the Cottage not more than thrice in the week. Mary Whitaker was, however, a constant visitor, and could be depended on to bring news of the outer world.

Mr. Willoughby’s reappearance in the neighbourhood after four years of absence had been the subject of some comment. It was known that at one time he had enjoyed the favour of old Mrs. Smith of Allenham Court, that he had paid yearly visits to her, and that she had been heard to speak of him as her heir. Then the time came when the servants at Allenham had reported to their acquaintances in Barton village that the old lady had taken a dislike to Mr. John, and for several years he had not come near the place. Last spring he was there again, and Mrs. Willoughby with him, and Mrs. Smith seemed fully as fond of him as ever before, though she had not taken to the lady. Mr. John had a way with him that pleased the old mistress, and when she was taken ill later in the summer it was “John! John! John!” she must have, and no one else would do. He had come, and she had rallied and got about again, and before he went away Mr. John had promised he would come if ever she wanted him, no matter where he was. Little did he think he would only see her again in her coffin! But so it was! Mrs. Smith’s own maid had gone into her bedroom as she always did to draw the blinds, and it gave her a turn to see how white the mistress looked there on the pillow, and she did but touch her hand, and it was cold as death—and well it might be cold, for the old lady was dead, and though they sent for the apothecary he could do nothing but send for her lawyer, and he it was that had sent for Mr. John. Such was the tale known to the village, and brought to Mrs. Dashwood by Mary Whitaker, who had it from Mrs. Brent at the shop.

It was possible therefore that in the future the Willoughbys would be the near neighbours of the ladies at Barton Cottage unless Allenham Court were sold or let, which, as Elinor pointed out, was at least possible. Mrs. Dashwood rejoiced in her forethought in again admitting Mr. Willoughby to their acquaintance, for nothing could be more uncomfortable than to be constantly avoiding him. Elinor could not but think that the Willoughbys would have been less likely to settle at Allenham Court if her mother and Margaret had been unforgiving.

At present all was surmise, for the intelligence received had its source in the servants’ hall at the Court, and trickled through various channels before reaching the Cottage.

The funeral was not long past before a more trustworthy informant arrived to give them fuller particulars. Mrs. Dashwood and Elinor were sitting together in the parlour when “Mr. Willoughby” was announced, and he followed Thomas into the room with his old impetuosity.

He took Mrs. Dashwood’s hand—she could not withhold it—and pressed it in his. He bowed to Elinor, who made a slight movement of greeting, but it was to Mrs. Dashwood that he addressed himself. He came to tell her, what she already knew, that he was the new owner of Allenham. He spoke of his shame at having forfeited her friendship, his desire for its renewal, his intention of spending some months every year at Allenham, and his fear lest this should be displeasing to her, though it appeared so desirable to himself. He hoped she would visit his wife, but feared he was asking too much. He ceased—and Mrs. Dashwood could make her reply. It was such as might be expected by those who knew her. She saw no reason why they should not be neighbours. She would have pleasure in making Mrs. Willoughby’s acquaintance. There was nothing in the past to be regretted. All had turned out for the best.

“No, no, madam! That I cannot allow. Best for Marianne, no doubt! It could not be well for her to depend for her happiness on such a one as myself. But for me? No, no! I protest, my regrets must be lifelong, and not the less for being deserved.”

Mrs. Dashwood could not but smile at such disarming humility and, with the comfortable adage that bygones should be bygones, changed the conversation by an inquiry as to the details of Mrs. Smith’s last illness. It was hoped that she did not suffer. He replied suitably, and with the appearance of feeling; and, taking the hint that no further reference to the past was desired, he began to discuss the neighbourhood, the improvements he intended, the tenants of the various farms, and spoke of Grice’s farm as one that was in good order and occupied by valuable tenants.

“I happened to go there in July for a friend’s address, and had a look round the place and a chat with Mrs. Grice. My friend was staying there last April, but, unfortunately, though I was then at Allenham, I did not know of his being so near until he was gone. I heard he was in the Baltic, but had to get the name of the sloop he is commanding. Did you happen to hear of him? Pennington is his name.”

Mrs. Dashwood remarked that he had dined at the Park.

“Yes, that is how I heard of his visit. I was amazingly disappointed, for I should like of all things to see him again. These naval officers are for ever slipping through one’s fingers.”

“How did you make his acquaintance?” asked Elinor. She had not spoken before this, and Willoughby started slightly, but turned to her, all attention.

“I met him fairly often at his club playing cards,” he replied. “I preferred to have him as a partner rather than as an opponent, so you can guess the degree of his proficiency. He is well known at the club, and generally liked. I am only one of his admirers.”

Elinor was satisfied with this reply. It confirmed her opinion that Commander Pennington was all he ought not to be, and she felt a slight relenting towards Willoughby for having furnished this information. Her mother saw with amusement how the conversation affected her, but did not pursue it.

Willoughby inquired for Margaret, and learnt that she was quite recovered, was at Delaford with Mrs. Brandon, and was not expected home for some weeks. He thought the air of Delaford—and the society—likely to be of great benefit, and mentioned the theatricals with just enough of wit and sense and not too much of either; spoke of Mr. Atherton’s approaching marriage, and commended his choice; alluded to his regret that Margaret had been unable to take the part of Sabrina, admired her voice, compared it, again with a sigh, to Mrs. Brandon’s. Mrs. Dashwood was about to weary of his conversation when he got up to take leave, expressing his sincere gratitude for the graciousness of his reception.