Margaret Dashwood

On an April day in 1813 Margaret Dashwood and her mother were driven up to the door of Barton Cottage. They left many interests behind them at Delaford. Elinor Ferrars at the parsonage, and Marianne Brandon at the mansion-house, the husband of each, who seemed to Mrs. Dashwood as dear as her own sons would have been if she had had any, and two attractive grandchildren, one in each household, made up the number to six dear ones left behind. It would not have been unlike Mrs. Dashwood’s warm-hearted nature to have entered her own home in dejection of spirits; but this was not the case. She hurried in, full of interest and happiness, and Margaret followed with the book and purse left in the carriage.

“Has Mr. Atherton arrived?” Mrs. Dashwood asked the waiting maid. “Not yet; that is well. Have you his room prepared? Miss Margaret and I have had some refreshment on the road. Tell Mrs. Thomas to keep back dinner till Mr. Atherton arrives. He will be here before three o’clock I am convinced.”

Mrs. Dashwood greeted the other servants, who were assembled to meet her, with the sweetness of address to which they were accustomed, and joyfully turned to the parlour, whither Margaret had preceded her.

“What a lovely fire!” she said. “And a wonderful basket of flowers from Sir John. What a kind neighbour he is! To-morrow, my love, you and I must walk up to the Park.”

“And the next day Sir John and Mrs. Jennings will come to us,” went on Margaret.

“And the day after Lady Middleton and little William,” continued Mrs. Dashwood.

“And after that we go there again,” finished Margaret.

“You do not intend any objection, my Margaret, surely? They are kind neighbours, and must be treated with attention.”

Margaret replied that she felt no objection that she could urge.

“On the whole I prefer visiting them to receiving their calls. We have the pleasure of the walk, and can end the visit when we choose, and though doubtless we interrupt their occupations sadly, it is better than being interrupted ourselves.”

Mrs. Dashwood had done less than justice to Sir John Middleton’s neighbourliness of spirit. The flowers were no more than the herald of his goodwill. She was still re-arranging her dress in her bed-chamber when she saw from her window Sir John and Mrs. Jennings crossing the lawn, and heard them tapping on the window to announce their arrival to Margaret. Mrs. Dashwood entered the sitting-room in time to catch Sir John’s inquiry as to how many beaux Miss Margaret had left disconsolate behind her at Delaford, and to hear Mrs. Jennings’s hearty rejoinder on Margaret’s behalf, “Miss Margaret has only to waggle her little finger to have them all after her, but she will not take the trouble.”

Margaret’s composure remained undisturbed, and she turned a smiling face to each in turn without exerting herself to make any other reply.

Mrs. Dashwood’s entrance stopped the flow of gallantry by diverting the attention of the two visitors to herself.

“And how is dear Mrs. Ferrars? And Mrs. Brandon too? As beautiful as ever, I will be bound, and the children will be old enough to fight each other now. My daughter Middleton is desirous of hearing all about them. She has an idea that Miss Marianne’s boy—I should say Mrs. Brandon’s—is taller than William was at his age and cannot rest till the matter is decided, and, for my part, I hope, ma’am, that my grandson has the advantage of yours, or we shall never hear the last of it from the child’s mother. Is it not so, Sir John? Lady Middleton is determined to have her boy the taller.”

“For my part, I do not care which has it, ma’am,” replied Sir John, “but I hope William will be the better sportsman when they are both full grown, and that is all there is to say about it.”

“You will find us all poor company after the party at Delaford, Miss Margaret,” went on Mrs. Jennings. “There is not a young man within ten miles, but we have one treat in store for you. Who do you think is coming to the Park this afternoon?”

Margaret was unable to make any conjecture.

“Well, then, what do you think of Miss Nancy Steele?”

Margaret’s smile gave very little indication of her thoughts, which were briefly that the addition of Miss Steele to the party at Barton would neither lessen its dullness nor add to its happiness. One merit in the arrival she could perceive: Miss Steele’s beaux would prove a subject of conversation more accessible than her own, as Miss Steele would herself gladly supply all the material required for Mrs. Jennings’s and Sir John’s wit, and would join with enthusiasm in the laughter raised.

Sir John’s next care was to secure the promise of a speedy visit from the ladies, and was for urging them to return with Mrs. Jennings and himself at once to dine at the Park, and thus secure the earliest possible meeting with Miss Steele. To this Mrs. Dashwood would not consent, and pleaded fatigue and the necessity of seeing her household, in vain. Sir John would not give way unless confronted with some better excuse than what he surmised was mere disinclination. He pressed his point so urgently that Mrs. Dashwood thought it best to admit that it was not in their power to accept his invitation. They were expecting the arrival of Mr. Atherton that afternoon.

“Ha ha! Miss Margaret,” ejaculated Mrs. Jennings. “I was sure there was some beau in the question. Don’t tell me but that Mr. Atherton is young and handsome.”

Sir John unwillingly admitted the prior claim of a visitor in the house, and bowed himself out, but with the assurance that he would wait on Mr. Atherton at the earliest possible opportunity on the morrow.

Mr. Atherton was a stranger to both households, if the term may rightly be used when letters have been exchanged. Both Mrs. Dashwood and Sir John had reached this stage of intimacy with the expected guest, as Mr. Atherton was the new vicar of Barton and had been presented to the living by Sir John, but owed his introduction to the neighbourhood to a member of the Dashwood family.

Mrs. John Dashwood of Norland Park and Lady Middleton were in the habit of meeting yearly in London. There was a certain lack of heart, and excess of formality on both sides, which endeared them to each other, and so far as either was capable of friendship they were friends. Therefore when the living of Barton fell vacant it was not long before Lady Middleton had confided to Fanny Dashwood her hopes and fears in the matter. Sir John’s judgment was not to be trusted, and the new incumbent might be far from presentable if the choice were left entirely to her husband’s discretion.

“My dear Lady Middleton, there can be no occasion for you to see anything of the man,” Mrs. Dashwood declared. “My own brother, it is true, is in orders, but it is by no means the rule for the profession to be adopted by people of birth or consequence. Take my advice, and have very little to do with the parsonage. You would not like to see your darling William and Annamaria intimate with the parsonage children?”

“It is different in your case, Mrs. Dashwood,” replied her ladyship. “Sir John is so fond of society and entertainment that I am convinced he will have the new vicar constantly to the Park. Poor old Mr. Tillis was bed-ridden, so could not visit, but I am sure things will be different now, and consequently it is of the greatest importance that he should be of good appearance and gentlemanly bearing.”

Mrs. John Dashwood sympathized with her friend on her husband’s regrettable lavishness of hospitality, a fault of which her own spouse was altogether free, though she sometimes suspected him of over generosity in other directions. Nothing was too much for him to do, no trouble too much for him to undertake on behalf of his father’s widow and her daughters.

“I am telling Lady Middleton, my love,” she went on as her husband entered the room, “how your father’s death left the care of his second family on your shoulders. Two of them have, as you know, ma’am, made most creditable marriages, entirely due to their brother’s untiring efforts on their behalf, and now there is poor little Margaret, by far the most affectionate of the three, but we can hear of nothing for her.”

As Lady Middleton was tolerably well acquainted with the facts she might have been surprised by this account of the courtship and marriage of the two elder Miss Dashwoods, but the truth is that she heard none of it. Her attention had been caught by an annoying tear in her best India muslin; and, when she had disengaged her thoughts from this disaster, they had flown back to the possible inconvenience of an unsuitable appointment to the living of Barton.

“Perhaps Mr. Dashwood could help us,” she said, and related to him her perplexities and fears. He was all attention and sympathy. Such a danger must at all costs be averted, and he begged for a few moments’ quiet while he considered the matter from every point of view.

This was readily agreed to, and ten minutes complete silence granted him. The time was pleasantly spent by the two ladies in discussing the merits of a fine darn as compared with a new breadth, Mrs. Dashwood arguing economy and Lady Middleton fearful that no darn could be finely enough executed to please her. Meanwhile Mr. Dashwood paced the room with his hands behind him in anxious thought. When he reseated himself in his chair, and brought the points of his fingers together, his attitude and expression were those of quiet satisfaction.

“Your ladyship,” he began, “I think I may congratulate myself on having solved your problem and our own at one and the same time. Two birds with one stone in fact, though I flatter myself that this idea of mine is more—or rather I should say less—in fact there is no killing in the question; quite the contrary. I happen to number among my acquaintance a certain Mr. Atherton, a very fine young man indeed—quite a presentable figure. He has moderate means, but wishes to improve his position, and considers taking Orders. The offer of the living of Barton should settle the matter. I am inclined to think that your ladyship and Sir John would find him acceptable. Other developments, my dear Fanny, we may hope will follow.”

Lady Middleton neither knew nor cared what the other developments might be. Her carriage was announced at that moment, and she departed to acquaint Sir John with Mr. Dashwood’s suggestion.

Once more John Dashwood’s generous plans seemed successful. To confer benefits at the expense of his acquaintance was ever before him, as his duty to society. Sir John seemed only too glad to be spared trouble and responsibility. Mr. Atherton was in due course made known to Lady Middleton; and, though Sir John could not spare time while in town to meet the young man himself, he was satisfied if Lady Middleton was pleased. He wrote a friendly letter offering the living. Mr. Atherton wrote a politely grateful one accepting it, and plans for the improvement of the vicarage were immediately put in hand. Improvements are seldom rapidly accomplished, and these took so long that Mr. Atherton had taken Orders, and was prepared to enter on his new duties before the house was ready for him.

Mr. John Dashwood, however, would not submit to a postponement of the happiness he proposed for his sister and her mother, and for Sir John and Lady Middleton, and for Mr. Atherton himself. He generously provided for the comfort of the latter by writing to implore his mother-in-law to despatch an invitation to the new vicar to enable him to begin his duties from Barton Cottage.

With unfailing courtesy and hospitality she readily agreed. The invitation was sent, and accepted, and Mr. Atherton was momentarily expected.