finished_summaries/sparknotes/Sense and Sensibility/section_4_part_0.txt
Sense and Sensibility.chapters 20-22
chapters 20-22
{"name": "Chapters 20-22", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210123003206/https://www.sparknotes.com/lit/sensibility/section5/", "summary": "Mrs. Palmer informs the Dashwood sisters that she and her husband will be leaving shortly to entertain guests at their own home at Cleveland. She tries to persuade Elinor and Marianne to go to town with them that winter or to join them at Cleveland for Christmas. She enlists the support of her husband, who rarely joins in his wife's discussions except to offer a cynical comment about the weather. Mrs. Palmer enjoys joking about her husband's droll humor and dry wit, though Elinor realizes that, with such a foolish wife, Mr. Palmer has no choice but to act this way. Mrs. Palmer tells Elinor that her home is right near Willoughby's estate in Combe, though he is rarely there. She also relates that she saw Colonel Brandon in town earlier that week, and he confirmed her suspicion that Willoughby and Marianne are \"attached\" to one another. Mrs. Palmer adds that Colonel Brandon would have liked to marry Mrs. Palmer if only her parents had not had such high standards. Of course, the prudent Elinor knows to take Mrs. Palmer's observations and claims with a grain of salt. When the Palmers return to Cleveland, Sir John Middleton invites Anne and Lucy Steele, two young ladies from Exeter, to visit at Barton. In an attempt to foster ties of friendship between the Steeles and the Dashwoods, Sir John praises each pair of sisters to the other. However, when they actually meet, Elinor and Marianne are annoyed by the way in which the Steele sisters indulge Lady Middleton's children and discuss where the greatest population of genteel young men can be found. Elinor accepts that Lucy is clever, but she finds her ill-read and sorely lacking in education. However, for their part, the Steele sisters are fond of the Dashwood girls, and Lucy Steele makes a considerable effort to become close with Elinor. Sir John mentions the name of Edward Ferrars in one of his numerous attempts to gently tease Elinor. Upon hearing his name, Anne remarks that she knows him very well. One day soon after, while they are walking together from the park to the cottage, Lucy asks Elinor if she has ever met Edward's mother, Mrs. Ferrars. This question mildly surprises Elinor; she assumes that Lucy must be somehow connected to Robert Ferrars. She is utterly incredulous when Lucy confesses to her that she has been secretly engaged to Edward for four years! Edward was a pupil of Lucy's uncle in Plymouth, and that is where their relationship began. Lucy says that they have been forced to conceal their engagement because Lucy has no fortune. However, as she informs Elinor, Edward wears a ring with a lock of her hair in it as a constant reminder of their attachment. Elinor, astonished and sick with grief, can hardly believe Lucy's confession.", "analysis": "Commentary In contrast to the Dashwood sisters, the Steeles lack education, refinement, and integrity. Anne Steele is nearly thirty, plain-looking, and rather simple-minded, whereas the Dashwood girls are in their late teens, beautiful, and insightful. Twenty-three-year-old Lucy Steele, although shrewd, smart, and pretty, lacks any real elegance and grace and never received the benefits of a good education. In their shameless obsequiousness toward Lady Middleton, the Steele sisters provide a definite contrast with the polite yet always honest Dashwood girls. When Elinor comments on Lucy's lack of education, she is not referring to formal education in \"public\" schools such as Eton or universities such as Oxford; these were reserved solely for genteel men. In Austen's day, few people perceived the need for higher education for women. Austen herself studied briefly under the private tutelage of a Mrs. Cawley, the sister of one of her uncles, and spent a short period of time at a boarding school in Reading; this was her only education outside of her family. Within her family, however, she studied drawing, painting, and piano. Women of the genteel classes were expected to acquire these skills, or \"accomplishments. \" In this novel, Elinor is accomplished in drawing while Marianne is an accomplished pianist. But the Steeles have no such skills to recommend them. Since the main purpose of these accomplishments was to help a woman acquire a husband, Elinor had even further reason to be surprised when the unaccomplished Lucy Steele announced her secret engagement to Edward Ferrars. Austen ends Part I of the novel with Elinor's disappointment and astonishment upon learning of Lucy's secret engagement to Edward. Although this chapter  links directly to the next , Austen interrupts the plot at this point to focus on her central character. Lucy's revelation is a critical turning point in Elinor's thinking even if not in the development of the story because the eldest Miss Dashwood's slim hopes of eventually marrying Edward are now completely dashed. Only in the next chapter will she begin to digest this news with her characteristic sense and rationality: she reasons that Edward's engagement to Lucy must have been the product of a youthful infatuation rather than a lasting, genuine affection."}


As the Miss Dashwoods entered the drawing-room of the park the next
day, at one door, Mrs. Palmer came running in at the other, looking as
good humoured and merry as before.  She took them all most
affectionately by the hand, and expressed great delight in seeing them
again.

"I am so glad to see you!" said she, seating herself between Elinor and
Marianne, "for it is so bad a day I was afraid you might not come,
which would be a shocking thing, as we go away again tomorrow. We must
go, for the Westons come to us next week you know.  It was quite a
sudden thing our coming at all, and I knew nothing of it till the
carriage was coming to the door, and then Mr. Palmer asked me if I
would go with him to Barton.  He is so droll! He never tells me any
thing! I am so sorry we cannot stay longer; however we shall meet again
in town very soon, I hope."

They were obliged to put an end to such an expectation.

"Not go to town!" cried Mrs. Palmer, with a laugh, "I shall be quite
disappointed if you do not.  I could get the nicest house in the world for
you, next door to ours, in Hanover-square.  You must come, indeed.  I
am sure I shall be very happy to chaperon you at any time till I am
confined, if Mrs. Dashwood should not like to go into public."

They thanked her; but were obliged to resist all her entreaties.

"Oh, my love," cried Mrs. Palmer to her husband, who just then entered
the room--"you must help me to persuade the Miss Dashwoods to go to
town this winter."

Her love made no answer; and after slightly bowing to the ladies, began
complaining of the weather.

"How horrid all this is!" said he.  "Such weather makes every thing and
every body disgusting.  Dullness is as much produced within doors as
without, by rain.  It makes one detest all one's acquaintance.  What
the devil does Sir John mean by not having a billiard room in his
house?  How few people know what comfort is!  Sir John is as stupid as
the weather."

The rest of the company soon dropt in.

"I am afraid, Miss Marianne," said Sir John, "you have not been able to
take your usual walk to Allenham today."

Marianne looked very grave and said nothing.

"Oh, don't be so sly before us," said Mrs. Palmer; "for we know all
about it, I assure you; and I admire your taste very much, for I think
he is extremely handsome.  We do not live a great way from him in the
country, you know.  Not above ten miles, I dare say."

"Much nearer thirty," said her husband.

"Ah, well! there is not much difference.  I never was at his house; but
they say it is a sweet pretty place."

"As vile a spot as I ever saw in my life," said Mr. Palmer.

Marianne remained perfectly silent, though her countenance betrayed her
interest in what was said.

"Is it very ugly?" continued Mrs. Palmer--"then it must be some other
place that is so pretty I suppose."

When they were seated in the dining room, Sir John observed with regret
that they were only eight all together.

"My dear," said he to his lady, "it is very provoking that we should be
so few.  Why did not you ask the Gilberts to come to us today?"

"Did not I tell you, Sir John, when you spoke to me about it before,
that it could not be done?  They dined with us last."

"You and I, Sir John," said Mrs. Jennings, "should not stand upon such
ceremony."

"Then you would be very ill-bred," cried Mr. Palmer.

"My love you contradict every body," said his wife with her usual
laugh.  "Do you know that you are quite rude?"

"I did not know I contradicted any body in calling your mother
ill-bred."

"Ay, you may abuse me as you please," said the good-natured old lady,
"you have taken Charlotte off my hands, and cannot give her back again.
So there I have the whip hand of you."

Charlotte laughed heartily to think that her husband could not get rid
of her; and exultingly said, she did not care how cross he was to her,
as they must live together.  It was impossible for any one to be more
thoroughly good-natured, or more determined to be happy than Mrs.
Palmer.  The studied indifference, insolence, and discontent of her
husband gave her no pain; and when he scolded or abused her, she was
highly diverted.

"Mr. Palmer is so droll!" said she, in a whisper, to Elinor.  "He is
always out of humour."

Elinor was not inclined, after a little observation, to give him credit
for being so genuinely and unaffectedly ill-natured or ill-bred as he
wished to appear.  His temper might perhaps be a little soured by
finding, like many others of his sex, that through some unaccountable
bias in favour of beauty, he was the husband of a very silly
woman,--but she knew that this kind of blunder was too common for any
sensible man to be lastingly hurt by it.-- It was rather a wish of
distinction, she believed, which produced his contemptuous treatment of
every body, and his general abuse of every thing before him.  It was
the desire of appearing superior to other people.  The motive was too
common to be wondered at; but the means, however they might succeed by
establishing his superiority in ill-breeding, were not likely to attach
any one to him except his wife.

"Oh, my dear Miss Dashwood," said Mrs. Palmer soon afterwards, "I have
got such a favour to ask of you and your sister.  Will you come and
spend some time at Cleveland this Christmas?  Now, pray do,--and come
while the Westons are with us.  You cannot think how happy I shall be!
It will be quite delightful!--My love," applying to her husband, "don't
you long to have the Miss Dashwoods come to Cleveland?"

"Certainly," he replied, with a sneer--"I came into Devonshire with no
other view."

"There now,"--said his lady, "you see Mr. Palmer expects you; so you
cannot refuse to come."

They both eagerly and resolutely declined her invitation.

"But indeed you must and shall come.  I am sure you will like it of all
things.  The Westons will be with us, and it will be quite delightful.
You cannot think what a sweet place Cleveland is; and we are so gay
now, for Mr. Palmer is always going about the country canvassing
against the election; and so many people came to dine with us that I
never saw before, it is quite charming!  But, poor fellow! it is very
fatiguing to him! for he is forced to make every body like him."

Elinor could hardly keep her countenance as she assented to the
hardship of such an obligation.

"How charming it will be," said Charlotte, "when he is in
Parliament!--won't it? How I shall laugh!  It will be so ridiculous to
see all his letters directed to him with an M.P.--But do you know, he
says, he will never frank for me?  He declares he won't.  Don't you,
Mr. Palmer?"

Mr. Palmer took no notice of her.

"He cannot bear writing, you know," she continued--"he says it is quite
shocking."

"No," said he, "I never said any thing so irrational.  Don't palm all
your abuses of languages upon me."

"There now; you see how droll he is.  This is always the way with him!
Sometimes he won't speak to me for half a day together, and then he
comes out with something so droll--all about any thing in the world."

She surprised Elinor very much as they returned into the drawing-room,
by asking her whether she did not like Mr. Palmer excessively.

"Certainly," said Elinor; "he seems very agreeable."

"Well--I am so glad you do.  I thought you would, he is so pleasant;
and Mr. Palmer is excessively pleased with you and your sisters I can
tell you, and you can't think how disappointed he will be if you don't
come to Cleveland.--I can't imagine why you should object to it."

Elinor was again obliged to decline her invitation; and by changing the
subject, put a stop to her entreaties.  She thought it probable that as
they lived in the same county, Mrs. Palmer might be able to give some
more particular account of Willoughby's general character, than could
be gathered from the Middletons' partial acquaintance with him; and she
was eager to gain from any one, such a confirmation of his merits as
might remove the possibility of fear from Marianne.  She began by
inquiring if they saw much of Mr. Willoughby at Cleveland, and whether
they were intimately acquainted with him.

"Oh dear, yes; I know him extremely well," replied Mrs. Palmer;--"Not
that I ever spoke to him, indeed; but I have seen him for ever in town.
Somehow or other I never happened to be staying at Barton while he was
at Allenham.  Mama saw him here once before;--but I was with my uncle
at Weymouth.  However, I dare say we should have seen a great deal of
him in Somersetshire, if it had not happened very unluckily that we
should never have been in the country together.  He is very little at
Combe, I believe; but if he were ever so much there, I do not think Mr.
Palmer would visit him, for he is in the opposition, you know, and
besides it is such a way off.  I know why you inquire about him, very
well; your sister is to marry him.  I am monstrous glad of it, for then
I shall have her for a neighbour you know."

"Upon my word," replied Elinor, "you know much more of the matter than
I do, if you have any reason to expect such a match."

"Don't pretend to deny it, because you know it is what every body talks
of.  I assure you I heard of it in my way through town."

"My dear Mrs. Palmer!"

"Upon my honour I did.--I met Colonel Brandon Monday morning in
Bond-street, just before we left town, and he told me of it directly."

"You surprise me very much.  Colonel Brandon tell you of it!  Surely
you must be mistaken.  To give such intelligence to a person who could
not be interested in it, even if it were true, is not what I should
expect Colonel Brandon to do."

"But I do assure you it was so, for all that, and I will tell you how
it happened.  When we met him, he turned back and walked with us; and
so we began talking of my brother and sister, and one thing and
another, and I said to him, 'So, Colonel, there is a new family come to
Barton cottage, I hear, and mama sends me word they are very pretty,
and that one of them is going to be married to Mr. Willoughby of Combe
Magna.  Is it true, pray? for of course you must know, as you have been
in Devonshire so lately.'"

"And what did the Colonel say?"

"Oh--he did not say much; but he looked as if he knew it to be true, so
from that moment I set it down as certain.  It will be quite
delightful, I declare!  When is it to take place?"

"Mr. Brandon was very well I hope?"

"Oh! yes, quite well; and so full of your praises, he did nothing but
say fine things of you."

"I am flattered by his commendation.  He seems an excellent man; and I
think him uncommonly pleasing."

"So do I.--He is such a charming man, that it is quite a pity he should
be so grave and so dull.  Mama says HE was in love with your sister
too.-- I assure you it was a great compliment if he was, for he hardly
ever falls in love with any body."

"Is Mr. Willoughby much known in your part of Somersetshire?" said
Elinor.

"Oh! yes, extremely well; that is, I do not believe many people are
acquainted with him, because Combe Magna is so far off; but they all
think him extremely agreeable I assure you.  Nobody is more liked than
Mr. Willoughby wherever he goes, and so you may tell your sister.  She
is a monstrous lucky girl to get him, upon my honour; not but that he
is much more lucky in getting her, because she is so very handsome and
agreeable, that nothing can be good enough for her.  However, I don't
think her hardly at all handsomer than you, I assure you; for I think
you both excessively pretty, and so does Mr. Palmer too I am sure,
though we could not get him to own it last night."

Mrs. Palmer's information respecting Willoughby was not very material;
but any testimony in his favour, however small, was pleasing to her.

"I am so glad we are got acquainted at last," continued
Charlotte.--"And now I hope we shall always be great friends.  You
can't think how much I longed to see you!  It is so delightful that you
should live at the cottage!  Nothing can be like it, to be sure!  And I
am so glad your sister is going to be well married!  I hope you will be
a great deal at Combe Magna.  It is a sweet place, by all accounts."

"You have been long acquainted with Colonel Brandon, have not you?"

"Yes, a great while; ever since my sister married.-- He was a
particular friend of Sir John's. I believe," she added in a low voice,
"he would have been very glad to have had me, if he could.  Sir John
and Lady Middleton wished it very much.  But mama did not think the
match good enough for me, otherwise Sir John would have mentioned it to
the Colonel, and we should have been married immediately."

"Did not Colonel Brandon know of Sir John's proposal to your mother
before it was made?  Had he never owned his affection to yourself?"

"Oh, no; but if mama had not objected to it, I dare say he would have
liked it of all things.  He had not seen me then above twice, for it
was before I left school.  However, I am much happier as I am.  Mr.
Palmer is the kind of man I like."




The Palmers returned to Cleveland the next day, and the two families at
Barton were again left to entertain each other.  But this did not last
long; Elinor had hardly got their last visitors out of her head, had
hardly done wondering at Charlotte's being so happy without a cause, at
Mr. Palmer's acting so simply, with good abilities, and at the strange
unsuitableness which often existed between husband and wife, before Sir
John's and Mrs. Jennings's active zeal in the cause of society,
procured her some other new acquaintance to see and observe.

In a morning's excursion to Exeter, they had met with two young ladies,
whom Mrs. Jennings had the satisfaction of discovering to be her
relations, and this was enough for Sir John to invite them directly to
the park, as soon as their present engagements at Exeter were over.
Their engagements at Exeter instantly gave way before such an
invitation, and Lady Middleton was thrown into no little alarm on the
return of Sir John, by hearing that she was very soon to receive a
visit from two girls whom she had never seen in her life, and of whose
elegance,--whose tolerable gentility even, she could have no proof; for
the assurances of her husband and mother on that subject went for
nothing at all.  Their being her relations too made it so much the
worse; and Mrs. Jennings's attempts at consolation were therefore
unfortunately founded, when she advised her daughter not to care about
their being so fashionable; because they were all cousins and must put
up with one another.  As it was impossible, however, now to prevent
their coming, Lady Middleton resigned herself to the idea of it, with
all the philosophy of a well-bred woman, contenting herself with merely
giving her husband a gentle reprimand on the subject five or six times
every day.

The young ladies arrived: their appearance was by no means ungenteel or
unfashionable.  Their dress was very smart, their manners very civil,
they were delighted with the house, and in raptures with the furniture,
and they happened to be so doatingly fond of children that Lady
Middleton's good opinion was engaged in their favour before they had
been an hour at the Park.  She declared them to be very agreeable girls
indeed, which for her ladyship was enthusiastic admiration.  Sir John's
confidence in his own judgment rose with this animated praise, and he
set off directly for the cottage to tell the Miss Dashwoods of the Miss
Steeles' arrival, and to assure them of their being the sweetest girls
in the world.  From such commendation as this, however, there was not
much to be learned; Elinor well knew that the sweetest girls in the
world were to be met with in every part of England, under every
possible variation of form, face, temper and understanding.  Sir John
wanted the whole family to walk to the Park directly and look at his
guests.  Benevolent, philanthropic man!  It was painful to him even to
keep a third cousin to himself.

"Do come now," said he--"pray come--you must come--I declare you shall
come--You can't think how you will like them.  Lucy is monstrous
pretty, and so good humoured and agreeable!  The children are all
hanging about her already, as if she was an old acquaintance.  And they
both long to see you of all things, for they have heard at Exeter that
you are the most beautiful creatures in the world; and I have told them
it is all very true, and a great deal more.  You will be delighted with
them I am sure.  They have brought the whole coach full of playthings
for the children.  How can you be so cross as not to come?  Why they
are your cousins, you know, after a fashion.  YOU are my cousins, and
they are my wife's, so you must be related."

But Sir John could not prevail.  He could only obtain a promise of
their calling at the Park within a day or two, and then left them in
amazement at their indifference, to walk home and boast anew of their
attractions to the Miss Steeles, as he had been already boasting of the
Miss Steeles to them.

When their promised visit to the Park and consequent introduction to
these young ladies took place, they found in the appearance of the
eldest, who was nearly thirty, with a very plain and not a sensible
face, nothing to admire; but in the other, who was not more than two or
three and twenty, they acknowledged considerable beauty; her features
were pretty, and she had a sharp quick eye, and a smartness of air,
which though it did not give actual elegance or grace, gave distinction
to her person.-- Their manners were particularly civil, and Elinor soon
allowed them credit for some kind of sense, when she saw with what
constant and judicious attention they were making themselves agreeable
to Lady Middleton.  With her children they were in continual raptures,
extolling their beauty, courting their notice, and humouring their
whims; and such of their time as could be spared from the importunate
demands which this politeness made on it, was spent in admiration of
whatever her ladyship was doing, if she happened to be doing any thing,
or in taking patterns of some elegant new dress, in which her
appearance the day before had thrown them into unceasing delight.
Fortunately for those who pay their court through such foibles, a fond
mother, though, in pursuit of praise for her children, the most
rapacious of human beings, is likewise the most credulous; her demands
are exorbitant; but she will swallow any thing; and the excessive
affection and endurance of the Miss Steeles towards her offspring were
viewed therefore by Lady Middleton without the smallest surprise or
distrust.  She saw with maternal complacency all the impertinent
encroachments and mischievous tricks to which her cousins submitted.
She saw their sashes untied, their hair pulled about their ears, their
work-bags searched, and their knives and scissors stolen away, and felt
no doubt of its being a reciprocal enjoyment.  It suggested no other
surprise than that Elinor and Marianne should sit so composedly by,
without claiming a share in what was passing.

"John is in such spirits today!" said she, on his taking Miss Steeles's
pocket handkerchief, and throwing it out of window--"He is full of
monkey tricks."

And soon afterwards, on the second boy's violently pinching one of the
same lady's fingers, she fondly observed, "How playful William is!"

"And here is my sweet little Annamaria," she added, tenderly caressing
a little girl of three years old, who had not made a noise for the last
two minutes; "And she is always so gentle and quiet--Never was there
such a quiet little thing!"

But unfortunately in bestowing these embraces, a pin in her ladyship's
head dress slightly scratching the child's neck, produced from this
pattern of gentleness such violent screams, as could hardly be outdone
by any creature professedly noisy.  The mother's consternation was
excessive; but it could not surpass the alarm of the Miss Steeles, and
every thing was done by all three, in so critical an emergency, which
affection could suggest as likely to assuage the agonies of the little
sufferer.  She was seated in her mother's lap, covered with kisses, her
wound bathed with lavender-water, by one of the Miss Steeles, who was
on her knees to attend her, and her mouth stuffed with sugar plums by
the other.  With such a reward for her tears, the child was too wise to
cease crying.  She still screamed and sobbed lustily, kicked her two
brothers for offering to touch her, and all their united soothings were
ineffectual till Lady Middleton luckily remembering that in a scene of
similar distress last week, some apricot marmalade had been
successfully applied for a bruised temple, the same remedy was eagerly
proposed for this unfortunate scratch, and a slight intermission of
screams in the young lady on hearing it, gave them reason to hope that
it would not be rejected.-- She was carried out of the room therefore
in her mother's arms, in quest of this medicine, and as the two boys
chose to follow, though earnestly entreated by their mother to stay
behind, the four young ladies were left in a quietness which the room
had not known for many hours.

"Poor little creatures!" said Miss Steele, as soon as they were gone.
"It might have been a very sad accident."

"Yet I hardly know how," cried Marianne, "unless it had been under
totally different circumstances.  But this is the usual way of
heightening alarm, where there is nothing to be alarmed at in reality."

"What a sweet woman Lady Middleton is!" said Lucy Steele.

Marianne was silent; it was impossible for her to say what she did not
feel, however trivial the occasion; and upon Elinor therefore the whole
task of telling lies when politeness required it, always fell.  She did
her best when thus called on, by speaking of Lady Middleton with more
warmth than she felt, though with far less than Miss Lucy.

"And Sir John too," cried the elder sister, "what a charming man he is!"

Here too, Miss Dashwood's commendation, being only simple and just,
came in without any eclat.  She merely observed that he was perfectly
good humoured and friendly.

"And what a charming little family they have!  I never saw such fine
children in my life.--I declare I quite doat upon them already, and
indeed I am always distractedly fond of children."

"I should guess so," said Elinor, with a smile, "from what I have
witnessed this morning."

"I have a notion," said Lucy, "you think the little Middletons rather
too much indulged; perhaps they may be the outside of enough; but it is
so natural in Lady Middleton; and for my part, I love to see children
full of life and spirits; I cannot bear them if they are tame and
quiet."

"I confess," replied Elinor, "that while I am at Barton Park, I never
think of tame and quiet children with any abhorrence."

A short pause succeeded this speech, which was first broken by Miss
Steele, who seemed very much disposed for conversation, and who now
said rather abruptly, "And how do you like Devonshire, Miss Dashwood?
I suppose you were very sorry to leave Sussex."

In some surprise at the familiarity of this question, or at least of
the manner in which it was spoken, Elinor replied that she was.

"Norland is a prodigious beautiful place, is not it?" added Miss Steele.

"We have heard Sir John admire it excessively," said Lucy, who seemed
to think some apology necessary for the freedom of her sister.

"I think every one MUST admire it," replied Elinor, "who ever saw the
place; though it is not to be supposed that any one can estimate its
beauties as we do."

"And had you a great many smart beaux there?  I suppose you have not so
many in this part of the world; for my part, I think they are a vast
addition always."

"But why should you think," said Lucy, looking ashamed of her sister,
"that there are not as many genteel young men in Devonshire as Sussex?"

"Nay, my dear, I'm sure I don't pretend to say that there an't.  I'm
sure there's a vast many smart beaux in Exeter; but you know, how could
I tell what smart beaux there might be about Norland; and I was only
afraid the Miss Dashwoods might find it dull at Barton, if they had not
so many as they used to have.  But perhaps you young ladies may not
care about the beaux, and had as lief be without them as with them.
For my part, I think they are vastly agreeable, provided they dress
smart and behave civil.  But I can't bear to see them dirty and nasty.
Now there's Mr. Rose at Exeter, a prodigious smart young man, quite a
beau, clerk to Mr. Simpson, you know, and yet if you do but meet him of
a morning, he is not fit to be seen.-- I suppose your brother was quite
a beau, Miss Dashwood, before he married, as he was so rich?"

"Upon my word," replied Elinor, "I cannot tell you, for I do not
perfectly comprehend the meaning of the word.  But this I can say, that
if he ever was a beau before he married, he is one still for there is
not the smallest alteration in him."

"Oh! dear! one never thinks of married men's being beaux--they have
something else to do."

"Lord! Anne," cried her sister, "you can talk of nothing but
beaux;--you will make Miss Dashwood believe you think of nothing else."
And then to turn the discourse, she began admiring the house and the
furniture.

This specimen of the Miss Steeles was enough.  The vulgar freedom and
folly of the eldest left her no recommendation, and as Elinor was not
blinded by the beauty, or the shrewd look of the youngest, to her want
of real elegance and artlessness, she left the house without any wish
of knowing them better.

Not so the Miss Steeles.--They came from Exeter, well provided with
admiration for the use of Sir John Middleton, his family, and all his
relations, and no niggardly proportion was now dealt out to his fair
cousins, whom they declared to be the most beautiful, elegant,
accomplished, and agreeable girls they had ever beheld, and with whom
they were particularly anxious to be better acquainted.-- And to be
better acquainted therefore, Elinor soon found was their inevitable
lot, for as Sir John was entirely on the side of the Miss Steeles,
their party would be too strong for opposition, and that kind of
intimacy must be submitted to, which consists of sitting an hour or two
together in the same room almost every day.  Sir John could do no more;
but he did not know that any more was required: to be together was, in
his opinion, to be intimate, and while his continual schemes for their
meeting were effectual, he had not a doubt of their being established
friends.

To do him justice, he did every thing in his power to promote their
unreserve, by making the Miss Steeles acquainted with whatever he knew
or supposed of his cousins' situations in the most delicate
particulars,--and Elinor had not seen them more than twice, before the
eldest of them wished her joy on her sister's having been so lucky as
to make a conquest of a very smart beau since she came to Barton.

"'Twill be a fine thing to have her married so young to be sure," said
she, "and I hear he is quite a beau, and prodigious handsome.  And I
hope you may have as good luck yourself soon,--but perhaps you may have
a friend in the corner already."

Elinor could not suppose that Sir John would be more nice in
proclaiming his suspicions of her regard for Edward, than he had been
with respect to Marianne; indeed it was rather his favourite joke of
the two, as being somewhat newer and more conjectural; and since
Edward's visit, they had never dined together without his drinking to
her best affections with so much significancy and so many nods and
winks, as to excite general attention.  The letter F--had been likewise
invariably brought forward, and found productive of such countless
jokes, that its character as the wittiest letter in the alphabet had
been long established with Elinor.

The Miss Steeles, as she expected, had now all the benefit of these
jokes, and in the eldest of them they raised a curiosity to know the
name of the gentleman alluded to, which, though often impertinently
expressed, was perfectly of a piece with her general inquisitiveness
into the concerns of their family.  But Sir John did not sport long
with the curiosity which he delighted to raise, for he had at least as
much pleasure in telling the name, as Miss Steele had in hearing it.

"His name is Ferrars," said he, in a very audible whisper; "but pray do
not tell it, for it's a great secret."

"Ferrars!" repeated Miss Steele; "Mr. Ferrars is the happy man, is he?
What! your sister-in-law's brother, Miss Dashwood? a very agreeable
young man to be sure; I know him very well."

"How can you say so, Anne?" cried Lucy, who generally made an amendment
to all her sister's assertions.  "Though we have seen him once or twice
at my uncle's, it is rather too much to pretend to know him very well."

Elinor heard all this with attention and surprise.  "And who was this
uncle?  Where did he live?  How came they acquainted?"  She wished very
much to have the subject continued, though she did not chuse to join in
it herself; but nothing more of it was said, and for the first time in
her life, she thought Mrs. Jennings deficient either in curiosity after
petty information, or in a disposition to communicate it.  The manner
in which Miss Steele had spoken of Edward, increased her curiosity; for
it struck her as being rather ill-natured, and suggested the suspicion
of that lady's knowing, or fancying herself to know something to his
disadvantage.--But her curiosity was unavailing, for no farther notice
was taken of Mr. Ferrars's name by Miss Steele when alluded to, or even
openly mentioned by Sir John.




Marianne, who had never much toleration for any thing like
impertinence, vulgarity, inferiority of parts, or even difference of
taste from herself, was at this time particularly ill-disposed, from
the state of her spirits, to be pleased with the Miss Steeles, or to
encourage their advances; and to the invariable coldness of her
behaviour towards them, which checked every endeavour at intimacy on
their side, Elinor principally attributed that preference of herself
which soon became evident in the manners of both, but especially of
Lucy, who missed no opportunity of engaging her in conversation, or of
striving to improve their acquaintance by an easy and frank
communication of her sentiments.

Lucy was naturally clever; her remarks were often just and amusing; and
as a companion for half an hour Elinor frequently found her agreeable;
but her powers had received no aid from education: she was ignorant and
illiterate; and her deficiency of all mental improvement, her want of
information in the most common particulars, could not be concealed from
Miss Dashwood, in spite of her constant endeavour to appear to
advantage.  Elinor saw, and pitied her for, the neglect of abilities
which education might have rendered so respectable; but she saw, with
less tenderness of feeling, the thorough want of delicacy, of
rectitude, and integrity of mind, which her attentions, her
assiduities, her flatteries at the Park betrayed; and she could have no
lasting satisfaction in the company of a person who joined insincerity
with ignorance; whose want of instruction prevented their meeting in
conversation on terms of equality, and whose conduct toward others made
every shew of attention and deference towards herself perfectly
valueless.

"You will think my question an odd one, I dare say," said Lucy to her
one day, as they were walking together from the park to the
cottage--"but pray, are you personally acquainted with your
sister-in-law's mother, Mrs. Ferrars?"

Elinor DID think the question a very odd one, and her countenance
expressed it, as she answered that she had never seen Mrs. Ferrars.

"Indeed!" replied Lucy; "I wonder at that, for I thought you must have
seen her at Norland sometimes.  Then, perhaps, you cannot tell me what
sort of a woman she is?"

"No," returned Elinor, cautious of giving her real opinion of Edward's
mother, and not very desirous of satisfying what seemed impertinent
curiosity-- "I know nothing of her."

"I am sure you think me very strange, for enquiring about her in such a
way," said Lucy, eyeing Elinor attentively as she spoke; "but perhaps
there may be reasons--I wish I might venture; but however I hope you
will do me the justice of believing that I do not mean to be
impertinent."

Elinor made her a civil reply, and they walked on for a few minutes in
silence.  It was broken by Lucy, who renewed the subject again by
saying, with some hesitation,

"I cannot bear to have you think me impertinently curious.  I am sure I
would rather do any thing in the world than be thought so by a person
whose good opinion is so well worth having as yours.  And I am sure I
should not have the smallest fear of trusting YOU; indeed, I should be
very glad of your advice how to manage in such an uncomfortable
situation as I am; but, however, there is no occasion to trouble YOU.
I am sorry you do not happen to know Mrs. Ferrars."

"I am sorry I do NOT," said Elinor, in great astonishment, "if it could
be of any use to YOU to know my opinion of her.  But really I never
understood that you were at all connected with that family, and
therefore I am a little surprised, I confess, at so serious an inquiry
into her character."

"I dare say you are, and I am sure I do not at all wonder at it.  But
if I dared tell you all, you would not be so much surprised.  Mrs.
Ferrars is certainly nothing to me at present--but the time MAY
come--how soon it will come must depend upon herself--when we may be
very intimately connected."

She looked down as she said this, amiably bashful, with only one side
glance at her companion to observe its effect on her.

"Good heavens!" cried Elinor, "what do you mean?  Are you acquainted
with Mr. Robert Ferrars?  Can you be?" And she did not feel much
delighted with the idea of such a sister-in-law.

"No," replied Lucy, "not to Mr. ROBERT Ferrars--I never saw him in my
life; but," fixing her eyes upon Elinor, "to his eldest brother."

What felt Elinor at that moment? Astonishment, that would have been as
painful as it was strong, had not an immediate disbelief of the
assertion attended it.  She turned towards Lucy in silent amazement,
unable to divine the reason or object of such a declaration; and though
her complexion varied, she stood firm in incredulity, and felt in no
danger of an hysterical fit, or a swoon.

"You may well be surprised," continued Lucy; "for to be sure you could
have had no idea of it before; for I dare say he never dropped the
smallest hint of it to you or any of your family; because it was always
meant to be a great secret, and I am sure has been faithfully kept so
by me to this hour.  Not a soul of all my relations know of it but
Anne, and I never should have mentioned it to you, if I had not felt
the greatest dependence in the world upon your secrecy; and I really
thought my behaviour in asking so many questions about Mrs. Ferrars
must seem so odd, that it ought to be explained.  And I do not think
Mr. Ferrars can be displeased, when he knows I have trusted you,
because I know he has the highest opinion in the world of all your
family, and looks upon yourself and the other Miss Dashwoods quite as
his own sisters."--She paused.

Elinor for a few moments remained silent.  Her astonishment at what she
heard was at first too great for words; but at length forcing herself
to speak, and to speak cautiously, she said, with calmness of manner,
which tolerably well concealed her surprise and solicitude-- "May I ask
if your engagement is of long standing?"

"We have been engaged these four years."

"Four years!"

"Yes."

Elinor, though greatly shocked, still felt unable to believe it.

"I did not know," said she, "that you were even acquainted till the
other day."

"Our acquaintance, however, is of many years date.  He was under my
uncle's care, you know, a considerable while."

"Your uncle!"

"Yes; Mr. Pratt.  Did you never hear him talk of Mr. Pratt?"

"I think I have," replied Elinor, with an exertion of spirits, which
increased with her increase of emotion.

"He was four years with my uncle, who lives at Longstaple, near
Plymouth.  It was there our acquaintance begun, for my sister and me
was often staying with my uncle, and it was there our engagement was
formed, though not till a year after he had quitted as a pupil; but he
was almost always with us afterwards.  I was very unwilling to enter
into it, as you may imagine, without the knowledge and approbation of
his mother; but I was too young, and loved him too well, to be so
prudent as I ought to have been.-- Though you do not know him so well
as me, Miss Dashwood, you must have seen enough of him to be sensible
he is very capable of making a woman sincerely attached to him."

"Certainly," answered Elinor, without knowing what she said; but after
a moment's reflection, she added, with revived security of Edward's
honour and love, and her companion's falsehood--"Engaged to Mr. Edward
Ferrars!--I confess myself so totally surprised at what you tell me,
that really--I beg your pardon; but surely there must be some mistake
of person or name.  We cannot mean the same Mr. Ferrars."

"We can mean no other," cried Lucy, smiling.  "Mr. Edward Ferrars, the
eldest son of Mrs. Ferrars, of Park Street, and brother of your
sister-in-law, Mrs. John Dashwood, is the person I mean; you must allow
that I am not likely to be deceived as to the name of the man on who
all my happiness depends."

"It is strange," replied Elinor, in a most painful perplexity, "that I
should never have heard him even mention your name."

"No; considering our situation, it was not strange.  Our first care has
been to keep the matter secret.-- You knew nothing of me, or my family,
and, therefore, there could be no OCCASION for ever mentioning my name
to you; and, as he was always particularly afraid of his sister's
suspecting any thing, THAT was reason enough for his not mentioning it."

She was silent.--Elinor's security sunk; but her self-command did not
sink with it.

"Four years you have been engaged," said she with a firm voice.

"Yes; and heaven knows how much longer we may have to wait.  Poor
Edward!  It puts him quite out of heart." Then taking a small miniature
from her pocket, she added, "To prevent the possibility of mistake, be
so good as to look at this face.  It does not do him justice, to be
sure, but yet I think you cannot be deceived as to the person it was
drew for.--I have had it above these three years."

She put it into her hands as she spoke; and when Elinor saw the
painting, whatever other doubts her fear of a too hasty decision, or
her wish of detecting falsehood might suffer to linger in her mind, she
could have none of its being Edward's face.  She returned it almost
instantly, acknowledging the likeness.

"I have never been able," continued Lucy, "to give him my picture in
return, which I am very much vexed at, for he has been always so
anxious to get it!  But I am determined to set for it the very first
opportunity."

"You are quite in the right," replied Elinor calmly.  They then
proceeded a few paces in silence.  Lucy spoke first.

"I am sure," said she, "I have no doubt in the world of your faithfully
keeping this secret, because you must know of what importance it is to
us, not to have it reach his mother; for she would never approve of it,
I dare say.  I shall have no fortune, and I fancy she is an exceeding
proud woman."

"I certainly did not seek your confidence," said Elinor; "but you do me
no more than justice in imagining that I may be depended on.  Your
secret is safe with me; but pardon me if I express some surprise at so
unnecessary a communication.  You must at least have felt that my being
acquainted with it could not add to its safety."

As she said this, she looked earnestly at Lucy, hoping to discover
something in her countenance; perhaps the falsehood of the greatest
part of what she had been saying; but Lucy's countenance suffered no
change.

"I was afraid you would think I was taking a great liberty with you,"
said she, "in telling you all this.  I have not known you long to be
sure, personally at least, but I have known you and all your family by
description a great while; and as soon as I saw you, I felt almost as
if you was an old acquaintance.  Besides in the present case, I really
thought some explanation was due to you after my making such particular
inquiries about Edward's mother; and I am so unfortunate, that I have
not a creature whose advice I can ask.  Anne is the only person that
knows of it, and she has no judgment at all; indeed, she does me a
great deal more harm than good, for I am in constant fear of her
betraying me.  She does not know how to hold her tongue, as you must
perceive, and I am sure I was in the greatest fright in the world
t'other day, when Edward's name was mentioned by Sir John, lest she
should out with it all.  You can't think how much I go through in my
mind from it altogether.  I only wonder that I am alive after what I
have suffered for Edward's sake these last four years.  Every thing in
such suspense and uncertainty; and seeing him so seldom--we can hardly
meet above twice a-year.  I am sure I wonder my heart is not quite
broke."

Here she took out her handkerchief; but Elinor did not feel very
compassionate.

"Sometimes." continued Lucy, after wiping her eyes, "I think whether it
would not be better for us both to break off the matter entirely."  As
she said this, she looked directly at her companion.  "But then at
other times I have not resolution enough for it.-- I cannot bear the
thoughts of making him so miserable, as I know the very mention of such
a thing would do.  And on my own account too--so dear as he is to me--I
don't think I could be equal to it.  What would you advise me to do in
such a case, Miss Dashwood?  What would you do yourself?"

"Pardon me," replied Elinor, startled by the question; "but I can give
you no advice under such circumstances.  Your own judgment must direct
you."

"To be sure," continued Lucy, after a few minutes silence on both
sides, "his mother must provide for him sometime or other; but poor
Edward is so cast down by it!  Did you not think him dreadful
low-spirited when he was at Barton?  He was so miserable when he left
us at Longstaple, to go to you, that I was afraid you would think him
quite ill."

"Did he come from your uncle's, then, when he visited us?"

"Oh, yes; he had been staying a fortnight with us.  Did you think he
came directly from town?"

"No," replied Elinor, most feelingly sensible of every fresh
circumstance in favour of Lucy's veracity; "I remember he told us, that
he had been staying a fortnight with some friends near Plymouth." She
remembered too, her own surprise at the time, at his mentioning nothing
farther of those friends, at his total silence with respect even to
their names.

"Did not you think him sadly out of spirits?" repeated Lucy.

"We did, indeed, particularly so when he first arrived."

"I begged him to exert himself for fear you should suspect what was the
matter; but it made him so melancholy, not being able to stay more than
a fortnight with us, and seeing me so much affected.-- Poor fellow!--I
am afraid it is just the same with him now; for he writes in wretched
spirits.  I heard from him just before I left Exeter;" taking a letter
from her pocket and carelessly showing the direction to Elinor.  "You
know his hand, I dare say, a charming one it is; but that is not
written so well as usual.--He was tired, I dare say, for he had just
filled the sheet to me as full as possible."

Elinor saw that it WAS his hand, and she could doubt no longer.  This
picture, she had allowed herself to believe, might have been
accidentally obtained; it might not have been Edward's gift; but a
correspondence between them by letter, could subsist only under a
positive engagement, could be authorised by nothing else; for a few
moments, she was almost overcome--her heart sunk within her, and she
could hardly stand; but exertion was indispensably necessary; and she
struggled so resolutely against the oppression of her feelings, that
her success was speedy, and for the time complete.

"Writing to each other," said Lucy, returning the letter into her
pocket, "is the only comfort we have in such long separations.  Yes, I
have one other comfort in his picture, but poor Edward has not even
THAT.  If he had but my picture, he says he should be easy.  I gave him
a lock of my hair set in a ring when he was at Longstaple last, and
that was some comfort to him, he said, but not equal to a picture.
Perhaps you might notice the ring when you saw him?"

"I did," said Elinor, with a composure of voice, under which was
concealed an emotion and distress beyond any thing she had ever felt
before.  She was mortified, shocked, confounded.

Fortunately for her, they had now reached the cottage, and the
conversation could be continued no farther.  After sitting with them a
few minutes, the Miss Steeles returned to the Park, and Elinor was then
at liberty to think and be wretched.





[At this point in the first and second editions, Volume 1 ends.]





Chapters 20-22
Mrs. Palmer informs the Dashwood sisters that she and her husband will be leaving shortly to entertain guests at their own home at Cleveland. She tries to persuade Elinor and Marianne to go to town with them that winter or to join them at Cleveland for Christmas. She enlists the support of her husband, who rarely joins in his wife's discussions except to offer a cynical comment about the weather. Mrs. Palmer enjoys joking about her husband's droll humor and dry wit, though Elinor realizes that, with such a foolish wife, Mr. Palmer has no choice but to act this way. Mrs. Palmer tells Elinor that her home is right near Willoughby's estate in Combe, though he is rarely there. She also relates that she saw Colonel Brandon in town earlier that week, and he confirmed her suspicion that Willoughby and Marianne are "attached" to one another. Mrs. Palmer adds that Colonel Brandon would have liked to marry Mrs. Palmer if only her parents had not had such high standards. Of course, the prudent Elinor knows to take Mrs. Palmer's observations and claims with a grain of salt. When the Palmers return to Cleveland, Sir John Middleton invites Anne and Lucy Steele, two young ladies from Exeter, to visit at Barton. In an attempt to foster ties of friendship between the Steeles and the Dashwoods, Sir John praises each pair of sisters to the other. However, when they actually meet, Elinor and Marianne are annoyed by the way in which the Steele sisters indulge Lady Middleton's children and discuss where the greatest population of genteel young men can be found. Elinor accepts that Lucy is clever, but she finds her ill-read and sorely lacking in education. However, for their part, the Steele sisters are fond of the Dashwood girls, and Lucy Steele makes a considerable effort to become close with Elinor. Sir John mentions the name of Edward Ferrars in one of his numerous attempts to gently tease Elinor. Upon hearing his name, Anne remarks that she knows him very well. One day soon after, while they are walking together from the park to the cottage, Lucy asks Elinor if she has ever met Edward's mother, Mrs. Ferrars. This question mildly surprises Elinor; she assumes that Lucy must be somehow connected to Robert Ferrars. She is utterly incredulous when Lucy confesses to her that she has been secretly engaged to Edward for four years! Edward was a pupil of Lucy's uncle in Plymouth, and that is where their relationship began. Lucy says that they have been forced to conceal their engagement because Lucy has no fortune. However, as she informs Elinor, Edward wears a ring with a lock of her hair in it as a constant reminder of their attachment. Elinor, astonished and sick with grief, can hardly believe Lucy's confession.
Commentary In contrast to the Dashwood sisters, the Steeles lack education, refinement, and integrity. Anne Steele is nearly thirty, plain-looking, and rather simple-minded, whereas the Dashwood girls are in their late teens, beautiful, and insightful. Twenty-three-year-old Lucy Steele, although shrewd, smart, and pretty, lacks any real elegance and grace and never received the benefits of a good education. In their shameless obsequiousness toward Lady Middleton, the Steele sisters provide a definite contrast with the polite yet always honest Dashwood girls. When Elinor comments on Lucy's lack of education, she is not referring to formal education in "public" schools such as Eton or universities such as Oxford; these were reserved solely for genteel men. In Austen's day, few people perceived the need for higher education for women. Austen herself studied briefly under the private tutelage of a Mrs. Cawley, the sister of one of her uncles, and spent a short period of time at a boarding school in Reading; this was her only education outside of her family. Within her family, however, she studied drawing, painting, and piano. Women of the genteel classes were expected to acquire these skills, or "accomplishments. " In this novel, Elinor is accomplished in drawing while Marianne is an accomplished pianist. But the Steeles have no such skills to recommend them. Since the main purpose of these accomplishments was to help a woman acquire a husband, Elinor had even further reason to be surprised when the unaccomplished Lucy Steele announced her secret engagement to Edward Ferrars. Austen ends Part I of the novel with Elinor's disappointment and astonishment upon learning of Lucy's secret engagement to Edward. Although this chapter  links directly to the next , Austen interrupts the plot at this point to focus on her central character. Lucy's revelation is a critical turning point in Elinor's thinking even if not in the development of the story because the eldest Miss Dashwood's slim hopes of eventually marrying Edward are now completely dashed. Only in the next chapter will she begin to digest this news with her characteristic sense and rationality: she reasons that Edward's engagement to Lucy must have been the product of a youthful infatuation rather than a lasting, genuine affection.