At last, Anne moved to the window. What did her hesitation mean? That she did not want to see him? Or that she did not want to appear to be eager to see him? I wished I could read her thoughts.
‘Yes, it is Mr. Elliot, certainly,’ said Anne calmly. ‘He has changed his hour of going, I suppose, that is all, or I may have been mistaken.’
This spelled hope. If she was mistaken, then she could not have been attending to him when he told her of his plans.
What torture it was to examine every sentence, to see if it proved a love affair between them, or the reverse!
‘Well, Mother,’ said Musgrove, when Mrs Clay and Mr Elliot had disappeared from view, ‘I have done something for you that you will like. I have been to the theatre, and secured a box for tomorrow night. I know you love a play, and there is room for us all. It holds nine. I have engaged Captain Wentworth. Anne will not be sorry to join us, I am sure. We all like a play.’
‘A play! The very thing,’ said Mrs Musgrove. ‘As long as Henrietta likes the idea—’
‘Good heavens! Charles, how can you think of such a thing?’ broke in Mary. ‘Have you forgot that we are engaged to go to Camden Place tomorrow night? And that we were most particularly asked on purpose to meet Lady Dalrymple, her daughter, and Mr. Elliot, all the principal family connections, on purpose to be introduced to them? How can you be so forgetful?’
Whilst she and Charles argued the point back and forth, he declaring no promise had been given, and she declaring it had, I watched Anne, to see if I could tell by her face whether she looked forward to meeting Elliot again.
Charles’s final words, ‘What is Mr. Elliot to me?’ brought my eyes to Anne again, as I wondered, with all my souclass="underline" What was Elliot to Anne? I could read nothing from her expression, nor did it seem to change when Mrs Musgrove said that Charles had better go back and change the box for Tuesday.
‘It would be a pity to be divided, and we should be losing Anne, too, if there is a party at her father’s,’ she said. ‘I am sure neither Henrietta nor I should care at all for the play if Anne could not be with us.’
I awaited Anne’s reply with bated breath.
‘If it depended only on my inclination, ma’am, the party at home (excepting on Mary’s account) would not be the smallest impediment. I have no pleasure in the sort of meeting, and should be too happy to change it for a play, and with you,’ she said.
But Mary was adamant that the party could not be missed, and it was soon generally agreed that Tuesday should be the day.
I left my seat, overcome by what I had heard. She had no pleasure in that sort of meeting! No pleasure in Mr Elliot’s company! She would rather go to the play!
I went over to stand by her, going by way of the fireplace so as not to draw attention to the fact, and tried to think of something to say.
‘You have not been long enough in Bath to enjoy the evening parties of the place, then?’ I asked.
‘Oh! no. The usual character of them has nothing for me. I am no card-player,’ she replied.
Here was my opening, no matter how slight, and I seized it. ‘You were not formerly, I know. You did not use to like cards; but time makes many changes,’ I added significantly.
‘I am not yet so much changed,’ she said, and her words, too, seemed significant.
She was not so much changed. And yet ...
‘It is a period, indeed! Eight years and a half is a period!’ I said, not knowing I had spoken out loud.
I would have said more, but Henrietta urged Anne to go with her in order to fulfil her commissions.
‘I am perfectly ready to go with you,’ said Anne, but she did not look it. She looked as though she wished to stay.
And then something happened to delay her. Sounds were heard; other visitors approached, and the door was thrown open. Sir Walter and Miss Elliot had arrived.
I felt an instant oppression, and I could tell that Anne felt the same. The comfort, the freedom, the gaiety of the room was over, hushed into cold composure, determined silence, or insipid talk, to match the elegance of her father and sister.
I was surprised that they acknowledged me, and that they did so a little more graciously than before. I wondered what could have raised me in their estimation. Perhaps Lady Dalrymple had spoken well of me, for I was sure nothing else would have satisfied their pride.
‘Captain Wentworth,’ said Miss Elliot, smiling.
I made her a cold bow: I had not forgotten how she treated Anne.
It turned out that she and her father had called to give out invitations to their party.
‘Tomorrow evening, to meet a few friends: no formal party,’ Miss Elliot said.
She laid her cards on the table—Miss Elliot at home—with a courteous smile, and included me in the courtesy; indeed she made a point of handing me an invitation. I acknowledged it politely, but felt only disdain. They had not valued me eight years previously; would not value me now, if others had not shown them the way; and I knew their friendship would be lost the moment Lady Dalrymple, or some such other person, spoke against me. And yet it was an invitation, and it would give me a chance to see Anne, I thought, as I turned the card over in my hand.
‘Only think of Elizabeth’s including everybody!’ whispered Mary very audibly. ‘I do not wonder Captain Wentworth is delighted! You see he cannot put the card out of his hand.’
I felt myself growing red with contempt and, as I caught Anne’s eye, I knew that her feelings echoed my own. That decided me. I would go to the party. It was not certain that Anne loved Mr Elliot; and I would not count her lost until an engagement was announced.
I made my bow and, feeling there was still hope, I left the ladies to their shopping.
Saturday 25 February
It was raining heavily when I awoke, but it would have taken more than rain to keep me from the White Hart this morning. I escorted my sister and Benjamin and we arrived there immediately after breakfast. To my disappointment, Anne was not there. Sophia was soon talking to Mrs Musgrove, and I fell into conversation with Harville. Mary and Henrietta kept walking over to the window and exclaiming on the rain. As soon as it cleared, Henrietta said, ‘At last! Come, Mary, let us be off.’
‘Will you not wait for Anne?’ asked Mary.
‘I will not wait for anyone, I am eager to be about my business. There is some lace I saw yesterday that I must procure, and a new bonnet that I must have. Mama, you must make sure Anne does not leave. Once she has arrived, you must keep her here until we return. I would not miss her for anything.’
I was gratified to see how much Henrietta valued Anne. She evidently had not forgotten that Anne had lent her her assistance at Lyme.
The two young ladies set out, and not long afterwards Anne arrived. I was immediately aware of her, but I could not break off from Harville as he had asked me to help him with a letter of business. I wanted it out of the way, and suggested I write it at once.
Paper and pen were laid out on a table at the side of the room, so I went over to it, and began to write. I consoled myself with the fact that I was not missing any conversation of great import, for Mrs Musgrove was telling Sophia about Henrietta’s engagement, and was going into such detail that I am sure it took all of Sophia’s patience to seem interested.
‘And so we thought they had better marry at once, and make the best of it, as many others have done before them. At any rate, said I, it will be better than a long engagement,’ finished Mrs Musgrove.
‘That is precisely what I was going to observe,’ said my sister. ‘I would rather have young people settle on a small income at once, and have to struggle with a few difficulties together, than be involved in a long engagement. I always think that no mutual—’