CHAPTER XXIII

The sale took place, and was followed by a very uncomfortable drive to Croydon. Robert appeared to be of the opinion that Emma, having no money, had no substance, or at any rate, none that required space to sit. Mrs Robert Watson had made careful preparation for the reception of her sisters. Her acquaintances had been informed that, “My poor sisters are left penniless, and so of course they turn to me. Should any little party given by me in the future be not quite what we have been accustomed to give, it will be on account of the Miss Watsons. If in the future we are unable to give on quite the same scale to the many good works which appeal to our generosity, it must be remembered that charity begins at home.”

The matter of the sheets in the second spare chamber, which was to be shared by Elizabeth and Margaret, had caused some trouble and annoyance. Mrs Robert had actually removed them, put them safely away, and replaced them by others more suitable, before it occurred to her that it might be wiser to consult Mr Watson. After due consideration had been given to the circumstances that Margaret declared herself promised to Mr Tom Musgrave, and that this was very probably true; that they might be married, even married at an early date, and that Margaret was well acquainted with the contents of the linen chest; it was decided that the guest sheets should be unfolded and replaced.

This had been in Mrs Robert’s mind as she waited a full half-hour after the dinner-hour for the arrival, but she comforted herself by recalling her explanation to the nursemaid that she might now consider herself more as a lady’s-maid, as Miss Emma would soon be accustomed to attending to Miss Augusta. Though the half-hour drew out to forty minutes, this reflection gave so much satisfaction that Mrs Robert was able to greet her sisters with civility.

All were tired and hungry, and enjoyed the good dinner to which they almost immediately sat down. Robert and Jane, less formal than when entertaining their acquaintance, and with more of good manners and consideration than they were accustomed to display in family life, were at their best, and could tea and bedroom candles have followed with sufficient rapidity, Elizabeth and Emma might have retired in unexpected peace and hope.

As the hand of the clock slowly revolved, Emma experienced the several stages of boredom, despair, and hope of release. Mrs Robert had her needlework, which she exhibited and commented on, but was too genteel to allow of her sisters doing anything of the sort on this first evening. When her work had been sufficiently admired, Mrs Robert began to talk of other matters.

“Margaret is already something acquainted with our society, but even she may benefit by the information and advice I am about to give you. You, Elizabeth and Emma, have not been accustomed to quite the sort of circle of which we form a part. I cannot attach much importance to a chance visit to Osborne Castle. It is therefore of great importance that you should try to understand who is in our circle, who is outside, and above all to know something of those on the border line, sometimes in and sometimes out, in for this and out for that. In order to assist you I have been to some trouble to prepare these lists.”

Here Mrs Robert produced from her work-bag a number of pieces of paper.

“Here are set down the names of our acquaintances with the letter G., B., or D. after each name. G. is good, B. is bad, and D. is indifferent, which is without a doubt clear to you all. I request, Emma, that you will write out the three separate lists under the appropriate headings, and then they will be always available for you and your sisters to refer to. I will now give you more exact information to ...” and so she continued.

A little later, Emma was recalled from her not very happy reflections by Mrs Watson.

“Are you attending, Emma? This is most important.”

A few minutes later, tea came up; Mr Watson favoured them while he drank a cup of tea.

The tea was refreshing to the Miss Watsons, but unfortunately for them it also refreshed Mrs Watson. She remarked complacently that:

“Mr Watson always comes for his tea and muffin, even when I am alone. Do you not think him a pattern for all husbands? He always comes for his tea and muffin.” She then proceeded with the task of informing her sisters, and with the gratification of her own self-esteem.

January 6th was the occasion for one of Mrs Robert’s informal evening parties. Invitations were issued in the form of personal notes on black-edged paper in deference to her husband’s mourning, and “no party, just a few friends,” heavily underscored. With so much recognition of the grief of the bereaved son and daughters, Mrs Robert felt that she had done all that could be expected, and gave herself up to the happiness of being in a position to direct all preparations, without the necessity of undertaking anything herself; to showing her sisters just how everything should be done, leaving them tasks, to be presently criticized; to trying how things would appear, if placed here; to seeing how they would be viewed by a guest entering the apartment, if placed there. All this untiring business put Mrs Robert in much good-humour, so that when inspecting her sisters as they sat awaiting the earliest arrival, she objected to nothing, save only the arrangement of Emma’s hair.

The party was a success. The arrivals, the entries, the greetings, the exchange of compliments were above reproach. Mrs Robert was a happy woman.

“My dear Mr Boucher _and_ Mrs Boucher, so good of you to come, and so good of you to be here at the hour, and our little party,--only we must not call it a party--so early too. You must forgive our homely habits, just a simple hand of cards and a cup of tea!”

All moved with slow formality. All spoke their words with care. Next-door neighbours met as though they had last seen each other at the last party. Once seated at the card tables something more of licence was permissible, and after supper, some might behave as the best behaved at home.

There was but one unattended young gentleman of the party. Mr Jasper Purvis was younger brother to Elizabeth’s former admirer, and paid his principal attention to Emma. Unfortunately, when rising from his chair to pick up one of Emma’s counters, he upset the whole of Mrs Roberts’, and there could be no certainty in the lady’s mind that all had been restored to her.

The rising from the card tables, and the sitting down to supper had the effect of renewing earlier and more stately manners. It might fairly be supposed that the consumption of food would tend to allay the appetite, but quite the contrary was the case. At first it seemed that no one would be able to eat anything. “Allow me to assist you to a little chicken, and let me add a morsel of ham.” “The merest taste, ma’am, not to offend your good cook.”

However, once started, it was surprising what could be eaten by the most unwilling. Emma found herself seated between Mr Purvis and an elderly gentleman, who having enquired as to whether she was acquainted with his married sister in London, and being answered in the negative, and receiving a like answer to the further question, “Have you been to the city of York?”--gave it up as an over-difficult task, and attended to his victuals.

Emma was then driven to make conversation with Mr Purvis, and her prejudice against him was overborne by his pleasant speech and modest bearing. The end of the evening, which was prolonged beyond the ordinary, in no wise belied the beginning.

The last guest was gone, and the success of the evening was assured. It was commented on by Mrs Watson with self-congratulation, agreed to by the Miss Watsons, and dismissed with brevity by Mr Watson, who compared his watch with the clock and recommended that they all retire.

The day following was not so fortunate. Mrs Robert stayed in bed, but was able to keep the household in disorder by enquiries and messages as to the rearrangements, and desires that one or other of the sisters would wait on her for instructions. Margaret, returning from an interview, thus addressed Emma:

“You are to go up now, I have vexed her properly.”

Emma in some anxiety mounted the stairs and, entering the bed-chamber, was accosted by Mrs Robert in these words:

“I must regret having to speak to you Emma, on such a subject, but even allowing for your natural excitement on such an occasion, you were too free with Mr Purvis last night. I do not know what is done at Osborne Castle, but in this household we are more guarded; we do not force ourselves on every young man.”

Emma, blushing with annoyance, replied that it was no fault of hers that Mr Purvis had sat next to her at supper.

“As to that, I do not know,” replied Mrs Robert. “It was certainly not so arranged by me. You may go now.”

Emma, who knew to what lengths her sister’s tongue could go, was thankful to escape.