Courtesy and Contempt

By Ken Everett

This story centers on the lives six intelligent upper middle-class women embedded in family life, who unmask falsity and pretension on the ultimate path of pursuing a successful life, and try balancing financial necessity against other concerns: love, friendship, and morals.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ken Everett
• Release date: Apr 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005198169

Book preview

Courtesy and Contempt

By Ken Everett

To Scottie and Edy they keep me grounded and provide insight for dealing with life, and they also teach me about the true meaning of unconditional love.

Courtesy: noun: The showing of politeness in one's attitude and behavior toward others.

Contempt: noun: The feeling that a person or a thing is beneath consideration, worthless, or deserving scorn.

Summary

This story centers on the lives six intelligent upper middle class women embedded in family life, who unmask falsity and pretension on the ultimate path of pursuing a successful life. They try balancing financial necessity against other concerns: love, friendship, and morals.

A wealthy man dies and his entire estate goes to son, who promised to take care of the family, but his greedy wife takes him out of generosity, so the widow gets a tiny pension, forcing her to move with three daughters to a cheap country cottage. The family takes a step down in society and faces hardship as they are four women virtually penniless. The sisters with different perspectives on life and interests, keep one another in line and support one another through death, hardship, love, and friendship.

A conflict between marrying for love and marrying for economic reasons. A father driven to exasperation by his ridiculous wife and difficult daughters. None of the five daughters can inherit his estate, so they are pressured into finding security in good marriages. One of the daughters struggles with the societal pressures of marriage and resists advances and proposals of a wealthy and arrogant gentleman. She shares her father's distaste for the conventional views of society as to the importance of wealth and rank.Eventually, however, she finds that she does love him, and for that reason, she decides to marry him.

A poor young girl searches for her place in society. Her father is a former naval officer and a heavy drinker, while her mother has married beneath her and is undeniably the black sheep in the family. As a form of charity, yhe girlFanny is taken in to live with her wealthy aunt. At her new home, The girl is raised and lives with her four cousins and is never really considered their social equal. She is often mistreated by her aunt and treated as an inferior by her cousins. She is constantly reminded of her social status and grows up shy and humble, but nevertheless remains true to herself., and must decide whether she places a higher value on priceless morality or the expectations imposed on her by society.

A young woman living on the large estate with her elderly widowed father, is satisfied with her life and sees no need for romance or a marriage for herself, and is described as handsome, clever, and rich with a comfortable home and happy disposition, and is spoiled, snobbish, and yet charming. She delightfully interferes in the relationships of others without taking much notice of her own heart. She is quick to make prejudgments and decisions, and is warned of her high self-confidence and her efforts of having everything her way.  But as she evolves from her self-centered ways into a sympathetic woman, well aware of others and her own desires, an is eventually able to notice her mistakes, and it is this revelation that makes her an endearing  inspiration.

A story of seventeen-year-old girl’s story of  maturation into womanhood. She is one of ten children of a country clergyman. She imagines life as living in one of the Gothic novels with which she is excessively fond of reading. She leaves her sheltered, rural home to enter the busy, sophisticated world of  the city, and she experiences her first taste of the fashionable upper class society.  Eventually she realizes that real life is not at all like that of a Gothic novel.

The overlooked middle daughter of a vain baronet who is all too conscious of his good looks and rank and spends excessive amounts of money. Her mother, a fine, sensible woman, is long dead, and her elder sister, resembles her father in temperament and delights in the fact that as the eldest daughter she can assume her mother's former position in their rural neighborhood. The younger sister, is a nervous, clinging woman who has made an unspectacular marriage to a bucolic but respected local squire. None of her surviving family can provide much companionship for the elegant-minded middle daughter, who, still unmarried at 27, seems destined for spinsterhood. Portrayed by the plight of young women who could escape the constraints of family life only by marrying, and suggest the foolishness of women who believed they were free and not dependent on the financial and social resources of men. An ironic and subtle ache to the true love that enables one woman to rise above straitened economic circumstances and the stifling social conventions that restricted women to narrowly circumscribed lives in the common sitting room.

Chapter 1

The Hargrove family had long resided in Sussex. Their estate was large, and their residence was in Norland Park, at the center of their property, where they had lived for many generations in such a respectable way that they took advantage of the general good opinion of their surrounding acquaintances. The late owner of this property was a single man who reached a very old age and had a constant companion and housekeeper in his sister for many years of his life. But her death, which happened ten years before his own, brought about a great change in his house; for in order to compensate for their loss, he invited the family of his nephew Mr. Henry Hargrove, the legal heir of the Norland estate, and the person to whom he wanted to bequeath it, to his house and received it. In the company of his nephew and niece and their children, the old gentleman's days were pleasantly spent. His attachment to them all increased. Mr. and Mrs. Henry Hargrove's constant attention to his desires, which arose not only from interest but also from kindness of heart, gave him every degree of firm comfort his age could receive; and the cheerfulness of the children added spice to his existence.

From a previous marriage, Mr. Henry Hargrove had a son, and three daughters from his current lady. The son, a steady, decent young man, was abundantly supplied by his mother's large fortune, half of which fell to him when he came of age. Also through his own marriage, which took place soon after, he increased his wealth. For this reason, the succession on the Norland estate was not as important to him as it was to his sisters; for their wealth could only be small, regardless of what they would be entitled to from their father's inheritance. Her mother had nothing and her father only seven thousand pounds at his disposal; for the remaining part of his first wife's fortune was also secured for her child, and he had only a lifelong interest in it.

The old gentleman died: his will was read, and like almost every other will, it brought as much disappointment as joy. He was neither so unjust nor so ungrateful as to leave his estate from his nephew – but he left it to him on terms that destroyed half the value of the legacy. Mr. Hargrove had wanted it more for his wife and daughters than for himself or son; but his son and the son of his son, a four-year-old child, were assured in this way, so as not to give themselves any power to care for those who were dear to him most and who most needed a supply from a burden on the estate or from a sale of his precious forests. The whole thing was tied up for the benefit of this child, who had hitherto won the affection of his uncle on occasional visits to his father and mother in Norland, through stimuli that are by no means unusual in children aged two or three; an imperfect articulation, a serious desire to impose his own will, many cunning tricks and much ado to outweigh the full value of all the attention he had received for years from his niece and her daughters. However, he did not want to be unkind, and as a sign of his affection for the three girls, he left them a thousand pounds each.

Mr Hargrove's disappointment was severe at first; but his temperament was cheerful and confident; and he could reasonably hope to live for many years, and by living frugally, he could provide a considerable sum from the yield of an already large estate that can be improved almost immediately. But the fortune that had come so late was his only twelvemonth year. He no longer survived his uncle; and ten thousand pounds, including the late legacies, was all that was left for his widow and daughters.

As soon as his danger became known, his son was brought in, and Mr. Hargrove recommended to him the interest of his mother-in-law and sisters with all the strength and urgency that an illness could command.

Mr. John Hargrove did not have the strong feelings of the rest of the family; but he was affected by such a recommendation at such a time, and he promised to do everything in his power to make them comfortable. His father was relieved by such an assurance, and Mr. John Hargrove then had time to think about how much was reasonably in his power to do for them.

He was not an evil-minded young man, unless being rather cold-hearted and quite selfish means being evil-minded: but in general he was very respected; for he behaved decently in the performance of his ordinary duties. If he had married a more amiable woman, he might have become even more respectable than he was: – perhaps he himself would have become amiable; for he was very young when he married and loved his wife very much. But Mrs. John Hargrove was a strong caricature of himself; – narrow-minded and selfish.

When he made his promise to his father, he meditated within himself to increase his sisters' fortune by giving him a thousand pounds each. He really thought he was. The prospect of four thousand a year, in addition to his current income, in addition to the remaining half of his own mother's wealth, warmed his heart and made him feel capable of generosity. Yes, he would give them three thousand pounds: it would be generous and pretty! It would be enough to make it easy for them. Three thousand pounds! he could do without such a considerable sum with little inconvenience. – He thought about it all day, and many days in a row, and he does not regret.

His father's funeral was barely over when Mrs. John Hargrove arrived with her child and companions without sending her mother-in-law a message of her intention. No one could deny her the right to come; the house belonged to her husband since the death of his father; but the indecency of their behavior was all the greater, and for a woman in Mrs. Hargrove's situation, who had only common feelings, it must have been highly unpleasant; – but in YOUR opinion, such a pronounced sense of honor, such generosity was romantic that any insult of this kind, by whomever it was committed or received, was a source of unshakeable disgust for them. Mrs. John Hargrove had not been popular with any of her husband's family members; but she had not had an opportunity until now,

Mrs. Hargrove felt this indecent behavior so much and despised her daughter-in-law so earnestly that when the latter arrived, she would have silenced the house forever if she had not been her request The oldest girl first made her think about the appropriateness of walking, and her own tender love for all her three children later determined her to stay and avoid a break with her brother for her sake.

Eleanore, that eldest daughter whose counsel was so effective, possessed a strength of reason and cool judgment that, even though she was only nineteen years old, made her her her mother's counselor and enabled her to often work to the advantage of all of them, that zeal of the spirit in Mrs. Hargrove, which must have generally led to unwiseness. She had an excellent heart; their affection was loving, and their feelings were strong; but she knew how to govern her: it was a knowledge that her mother still had to learn; and one of her sisters had decided never to be taught.

Marianne's abilities were equal to eleanore's in many ways. She was reasonable and wise; but zealous in everything: their sorrows, their joys could not have moderation. She was generous, kind, interesting: she was anything but prudent. The similarity between her and her mother was strikingly great.

Eleanore saw with concern the excess of sensitivity of her sister; but it was appreciated and cherished by Mrs. Hargrove. They now encouraged each other in the ferocity of their suffering. The pain of grief that initially overwhelmed her was voluntarily renewed, sought, recreated again and again. They gave themselves completely to their grief, sought the increase of misery in every reflection it could afford, and decided not to allow any consolation in the future. Eleonore was also deeply affected; but still she could fight, she could make an effort. She was able to consult with her brother, receive her sister-in-law on her arrival and treat her with due attention; and could strive to shake her mother to similar efforts and encourage her to similar forbearance.

Margaret, the other sister, was a good-humoured, kind-hearted girl; but since she had already absorbed much of Marianne's romance without much of her mind, at thirteen she didn't want to be fair enough to do the same as her sisters at a more advanced stage of life.

Chapter 2

It is a universally accepted truth that a single man in possession of good wealth must need a wife.

As little known as the feelings or views of such a man may be when he first enters a neighborhood, this truth is so entrenched in the minds of surrounding families that he is considered the rightful property of one or the other of their daughters.

My dear Mr. Mitchell, his lady said to him one day, have you heard that Netherfield Park is finally rented?

Mr. Mitchell replied that he had not done so.

'But it is,' she replied; 'because Mrs. Long was just here, and she told me all about it.'

Mr. Mitchell did not answer.

Don't you want to know who took it? his wife shouted impatiently.

YOU want to tell me, and I don't mind hearing it.

That was invitation enough.

"Well, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield was taken over by a young man of great fortune from the north of England; that on Monday he came down in a carriage and four to see the house, and was so pleased that he immediately agreed with Mr. Morris; that he should take possession of Michaeli and that some of his servants should be in the house by the end of next week.'

'What's his name?'

'Forest.'

'Is he married or single?'

'Oh! Single, my love to be sure! A single man with a great fortune; four or five thousand a year. What a beautiful thing for our girls!'

'Why is that? How can it affect them?'

My dear Mr. Mitchell, his wife replied, how can you be so tiring! You have to know that I'm thinking of him marrying one of them.

Is this his plan to settle here?

'Design! Nonsense, how can you talk like that! But it's very likely that he'll fall in love with one of them, and that's why you'll have to visit him as soon as he comes.'

I don't see any reason to do so. You and the girls can go, or you can send them alone, which may be even better, because since you look just as good as everyone else, Mr. Woodland may like you most from society.

"My dear, you flatter me. I'VE certainly had my share of beauty, but I'm not pretending to be something extraordinary now. If a woman has five adult daughters, she should stop thinking about her own beauty.'

In such cases, a woman often does not have much beautiful to think about.

But, my dear, you really have to visit Mr. Woodland when he comes to the neighborhood.

That's more than I'm advocating for it, I assure you.

"But think of your daughters. Just think what kind of facility it would be for one of them. Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined to leave, just because in general they do not visit newcomers. In fact, you have to go, because it will be impossible for us to visit him if you don't.'

You're certainly over-scrupulous. I dare say Mr. Woodland will be very happy to see you; and I will send a few lines from you to assure him of my warm approval of his marriage, which he chooses from the girls; although I have to throw in a good word for my little Lizzy.

I wish you didn't do that. Lizzy is not a bit better than the others; and I'm sure she's not half as pretty as Jane, half as good as Linda. But you always give her preference.

'They don't have much of them to recommend,' he replied; "they are all stupid and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has a little more speed than her sisters.'

'Lord. Mitchell, how can you abuse your own children like that? You enjoy annoying me. You have no pity for my poor nerves.'

You are confusing me, my dear. I have great respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I've heard you mention them wisely for at least the last twenty years.

Mr. Mitchell was such a strange mix of quick moves, sarcastic humor, restraint, and capriciousness that the experience of twenty-three years had not been enough to make his wife understand his character. HER mind was less difficult to develop. She was a woman with little understanding, little information and an insecure temperament. When she was dissatisfied, she imagined nervously. The business of a lifetime was to marry off their daughters; his consolation was visits and news.

Chapter 3

About thirty years ago, Miss Maria Ward of Huntingdon, with only seven thousand pounds, was fortunate enough to tie up Sir Thomas Schmidt of Mansfield Park in Northampton and thus be elevated to the rank of Baronet Lady. with all the amenities and consequences of a beautiful house and a large income. All of Huntingdon raved about the size of the match, and her uncle, the lawyer himself, allowed her to lack at least three thousand pounds of a fair claim to it. She had two sisters who benefited from her elevation; and those of her acquaintances who thought Miss Ward and Miss Frances were just as handsome as Miss Maria had no scruples about predicting their marriage with almost equal advantage. But there are certainly not as many men with large fortunes in the world as there are pretty women who deserve them. Miss Ward, At the end of half a dozen years, she was forced to be associated with Rev. Mr. Norris, a friend of her brother-in-law, who had little private fortune, and Miss Frances fared even worse. Miss Ward's match was actually not despicable when it mattered: Sir Thomas was happy to give his friend an income in mansfield's life; and Mr. and Mrs. Norris began their careers of marital bliss with very little less than a thousand a year. But Miss Frances married to disappoint her family, and did it very thoroughly, committing to a Lieutenant of the Marines with no education, wealth or connections. She could hardly have made a less favorable choice. Sir Thomas Schmidt had an interest both out of principle and pride – out of a general desire to do the right thing – and the desire to see everyone associated with him in respectable situations, he would have liked to have exercised to the advantage of Lady Schmidt's sister; but her husband's profession was one that no interest could achieve; and before he had time to come up with any other method to help them, there had been an absolute break between the sisters. It was the natural result of each party's behavior and as it almost always produces a very careless marriage. To protect herself from useless objections, Mrs. Price never wrote to her family on the subject until she was actually married. Lady Schmidt, who was a woman of very calm feelings and a remarkably light and sluggish temperament, would have been content to just give up her sister and stop thinking about it; but Mrs. Norris had a zest for action that could not be satisfied until she had written a long and angry letter to Esther to point out the folly of her behavior and threaten her with all sorts of negative consequences. Mrs. Price, for her part, was hurt and angry; and an answer that gripped each sister in her bitterness and gave the pride of Sir Thomas such disrespectful reflections that Mrs. Norris could not possibly keep to herself put an end to all intercourse between them for a considerable time.

Their houses were so far apart and the circles in which they moved so different that it was almost impossible to ever hear anything about each other's existence in the following eleven years, or at least to make it very wonderful for Sir Thomas that Mrs Norris should ever have it in her power, To tell them how she did it from time to time in an angry voice that Esther had had another child. By the end of eleven years, however, Mrs. Price could no longer afford to harbor pride or resentment, or to lose a connection that could potentially help her. A large and still growing family, a husband who was disabled for active service but no less able to cope with society and good alcohol, and a very low income to satisfy their needs, made them eager to win back the friends she had so carelessly sacrificed; and she addressed Lady Schmidt in a letter that expressed so much remorse and despondency, such an abundance of children, and such a lack of almost everything else that they all had to cause reconciliation. She was preparing for her ninth sleep; and after lamenting the circumstances and begging her face as godfather for the expected child, she could not hide how important they could be for the future maintenance of the already existing eight. Their eldest was a boy of ten years, a fine, spirited lad who longed to be in the world; but what could she do? Was there a chance that he could later be useful to Sir Thomas in the affairs of his West Indian property? No situation would be too bad for him; or what did Sir Thomas think of Woolwich? or how could a boy be sent to the East? such an abundance of children and such a lack of almost everything else that had to lead them all to reconciliation. She was preparing for her ninth sleep; and after lamenting the circumstances and begging her face as godfather for the expected child, she could not hide how important they could be for the future maintenance of the already existing eight. Their eldest was a boy of ten years, a fine, spirited lad who longed to be in the world; but what could she do? Was there a chance that he could later be useful to Sir Thomas in the affairs of his West Indian property? No situation would be too bad for him; or what did Sir Thomas think of Woolwich? or how could a boy be sent to the East? such an abundance of children and such a lack of almost everything else that had to lead them all to reconciliation. She was preparing for her ninth sleep; and after lamenting the circumstances and begging her face as godfather for the expected child, she could not hide how important they could be for the future maintenance of the already existing eight. Their eldest was a boy of ten years, a fine, spirited lad who longed to be in the world; but what could she do? Was there a chance that he could later be useful to Sir Thomas in the affairs of his West Indian property? No situation would be too bad for him; or what did Sir Thomas think of Woolwich? or how could a boy be sent to the East? how they could not help but induce them all to reconcile. She was preparing for her ninth sleep; and after lamenting the circumstances and begging her face as godfather for the expected child, she could not hide how important they could be for the future maintenance of the already existing eight. Their eldest was a boy of ten years, a fine, spirited lad who longed to be in the world; but what could she do? Was there a chance that he could later be useful to Sir Thomas in the affairs of his West Indian property? No situation would be too bad for him; or what did Sir Thomas think of Woolwich? or how could a boy be sent to the East? how they could not help but induce them all to reconcile. She was preparing for her ninth sleep; and after lamenting the circumstances and begging her face as godfather for the expected child, she could not hide how important they could be for the future maintenance of the already existing eight. Their eldest was a boy of ten years, a fine, spirited lad who longed to be in the world; but what could she do? Was there a chance that he could later be useful to Sir Thomas in the affairs of his West Indian property? No situation would be too bad for him; or what did Sir Thomas think of Woolwich? or how could a boy be sent to the East? it could not hide how important they were for the future maintenance of the already existing eight. Their eldest was a boy of ten years, a fine, spirited lad who longed to be in the world; but what could she do? Was there a chance that he could later be useful to Sir Thomas in the affairs of his West Indian property? No situation would be too bad for him; or what did Sir Thomas think of Woolwich? or how could a boy be sent to the East? it could not hide how important they were for the future maintenance of the already existing eight. Their eldest was a boy of ten years, a fine, spirited lad who longed to be in the world; but what could she do? Was there a chance that he could later be useful to Sir Thomas in the affairs of his West Indian property? No situation would be too bad for him; or what did Sir Thomas think of Woolwich? or how could a boy be sent to the East? or what did Sir Thomas think of Woolwich? or how could a boy be sent to the East? or what did Sir Thomas think of Woolwich? or how could a boy be sent to the East?

The letter was not unproductive. It restored peace and kindness. Sir Thomas sent friendly advice and professions, Lady Schmidt sent money and baby linen, and Mrs. Norris wrote the letters.

These were its immediate effects, and within twelve months it resulted in an even more important benefit for Mrs. Price. Mrs. Norris often remarked to the others that she couldn't get her poor sister and family out of her head, and that as much as they had all done for her, she apparently wanted to do more; and finally, she couldn't help but admit that it was her wish that poor Mrs. Price should be freed from the burden and cost of having a large number of children. What if they were among them to take care of their eldest daughter, a girl who is now nine years old and needs more attention at an age than her poor mother could possibly give? The effort and cost of it would be nothing for them compared to the goodwill of the action. Lady Schmidt immediately agreed with her. I don't think we can do any better, she said;

Sir Thomas could not give such an immediate and unqualified consent. He pondered and hesitated; – it was a serious accusation; – such an educated girl had to be adequately cared for, or there would be cruelty instead of kindness if she was taken from her family. He thought of his own four children, his two sons, cousins in love, etc. – but no sooner had he consciously begun to express his objections when Mrs. Norris interrupted him with an answer to everyone, whether said or not.

My dear Sir Thomas, I fully understand you and live up to the generosity and tenderness of your ideas, which are in fact entirely in line with your general conduct; and I totally agree with you, in the main, as far as the adequacy is concerned, to do everything that can be done to care for a child that you have taken into your own hands; and I am sure that I should be the last person in the world to hold back my little bit on such an occasion. Since I don't have children of my own, who should I turn to in every little matter I ever have to give than my sisters' children? – and I'm sure Norris-san is too fair – but you know that I'm a woman with few words and professions. Let us not be deterred from a good deed by a small thing. Give a girl an education and properly introduce her to the world, and ten to one, but she has the means to settle in well, at no additional cost to anyone. A niece of ours, Sir Thomas, I can say, or at least without many advantages, yours would not grow up in this neighborhood. I'm not saying she would look as good as her cousins. I dare say she wouldn't; but it would be introduced into the society of this country under such very favorable circumstances that would in all probability give it a decent institution. You think of your sons – but don't you know that, of all things on earth – this will happen least when they are brought up like this, always together like brothers and sisters? It is morally impossible. I have never known a case of it. It is, in fact, the only sure way to go against the connection. Suppose she were a pretty girl and was seen by Tom or Edmund for the first time in seven years, and I dare say there would be mischief. The mere idea that she had to grow up in poverty and neglect far away from all of us would be enough to make one of the dear, good-natured boys fall in love with her. But raise her with them from that time, and imagine if she had even the beauty of an angel, and she won't be more than a sister to either of them.

There is a great deal of truth in what you are saying, Sir Thomas replied, "and it is far from me to put any imaginative obstacle in the way of a plan that would be so compatible with the circumstances. I just wanted to note that it should not be frivolous, and that in order to make it truly serviceable to Mrs. Price and commendable to ourselves, we must entrust ourselves to the child or feel obliged to secure it later. as you expect so confidently.

I fully understand you, exclaimed Mrs. Norris, You are all that is generous and considerate, and I am sure we will never contradict each other on this point. Whatever I can do, as you know, I am always ready enough to do it for the good of those I love; and although I could never feel for this little girl the hundredth part of the respect I have for your own dear children, nor could I consider them so much my own in any way, I would hate myself if I were able to neglect them. Isn't she the child of a sister? and could I bear to see her, while I would have to give her a piece of bread? My dear Sir Thomas, for all my faults I have a warm heart; and poor as I am, I would rather give up the necessities of life than do an involuntary thing. So, if you are not against it, tomorrow I will write to my poor sister and make the suggestion; and,I will get involved to bring the child to Mansfield; You won't have any trouble with it. My own difficulties, you know, I never look at them. I'm going to send Nanny to London on purpose, and she can have a bed with her cousin, the saddler, and the child is destined to meet her there. You can easily take them to the city by carriage from Portsmouth, under the care of a credible person who happens to ride along. I dare to say that one or the other serious merchant woman always appears.

Except for the attack on Nanny's cousin, Sir Thomas raised no objections, and a more respectable, if less frugal, rendezvous was replaced accordingly, everything was considered done, and the joys of such a benevolent plan were already enjoyed. Strictly speaking, the distribution of satisfying sensations should not have been the same; for Sir Thomas was determined to be the real and consistent patron of the chosen child, and Mrs. Norris had no intention of taking care of her subsistence at all costs. As far as walking, talking, and tinkering were concerned, she was thoroughly benevolent, and no one knew better how to dictate generosity to others; but her love of money was on par with her love of directing, and she knew just as well how to save her own as spending that of her friends. Since she had married with a lower income than she was used to, she had considered a very strict austerity policy necessary from the beginning; and what was started out of prudence soon grew into a matter of choice, as an object of that necessary care that there were no children to deliver. Had a family been provided for, Mrs. Norris might never have saved her money; but since they did not care about this species, there was nothing that hindered their frugality or reduced the comfort of making an annual increase to an income they had never lived up to. Under this beguiling principle, which was not countered by any real affection for her sister, it was impossible for her to seek more than the merit of planning and organizing such an expensive charity; although she may know so little to go home to the rectory,

when the issue was raised again, her views were explained more fully; and in response to Lady Schmidt's quiet question Where should the child come first, sister, to you or to us? Sir Thomas heard with some surprise that it would be completely outside the power of Mrs. Norris to participate in her personal responsibility. He had seen her as a particularly welcome addition to the rectory, as a desirable partner of an aunt who had no children of her own; but he found himself completely in error. Mrs. Norris unfortunately had to say that staying with them for the little girl, at least as things were then, was quite unthinkable. Poor Mr. Norris' indifferent state of health made it impossible: he could not bear the noise of a child any more than he could fly; if he really ever recovered from his gout complaints, it would be another matter: she would like to take her turn and think nothing of it; but right now, poor Mr. Norris took up every moment of her time, and she was sure that the mere mention of such a thing would distract him.

Then she had better come to us, said Lady Schmidt with the utmost serenity. After a short pause, Sir Thomas added gracefully: Yes, let their home be in this house. We will strive to fulfill our duty through her, and she will at least have the advantage of a companion of the same age and a regular teacher.

Very true, exclaimed Mrs. Norris, "these are both very important considerations; and it will be the same for Miss Lee whether she has three girls to teach or only two – there can be no difference. I just wish I could be more useful; but you see, I do everything in my power. I am not one of those who spare their own difficulties; and Nanny is supposed to pick her up, however it can be uncomfortable for me to have my chief advisor away for three days. I suppose sister, you take the child to the little white attic near the old kindergartens. It will be the best place for them, so close to Miss Lee and not far from the girls and close to the housemaids who could both help attract them, you know, and take care of their clothes, for me you suppose you wouldn't think it would be fair to expect from Ellis, that he serves them as well as the others. In fact,

Lady Schmidt did not object.

I hope she will prove to be a kind-minded girl, Mrs. Norris continued, and be aware of her unusual happiness of having such friends.

If she is really unwell, said Sir Thomas, we do not have to keep her in the family for the sake of our own children; but there is no reason to expect such a great evil. We will probably see a change in it that leaves much to be desired and must be prepared for gross ignorance, a certain meanness of opinions and a very disturbing vulgarity of behavior; but these are not incurable mistakes; I trust that they cannot be dangerous for their companions either. If my daughters had been younger than themselves, I would have considered the introduction of such a companion to be a matter of very serious importance; but as it is, I hope that they have nothing to fear from unification and everything they can hope for for them.

That's exactly what I think, exclaimed Mrs. Norris, and what I said to my husband this morning. It will be an education for the child, I said, to be only with her cousins; If Miss Lee didn't teach her anything, she would learn from them to be good and smart.

I hope she won't annoy my poor pug, said Lady Schmidt; I just got Julia to leave it alone.

There will be some difficulties ahead of us, Mrs Norris, Sir Thomas remarked, regarding the distinction to be made between the adolescent girls: how to keep in the minds of my daughters the awareness of who they are without them thinking too little of their cousin; and how she remembers, without depressing her mood too much, that she is not Miss Schmidt. I want to see her very good friends and I don't want to give my girls the slightest arrogance against their relatives; but still, they cannot be the same. Their rank, wealth, rights and expectations will always be different. It's a very delicate point, and you need to support us in our efforts to choose exactly the right behavior.

Mrs. Norris was entirely at his service; and although she completely agreed with him that it was an extremely difficult thing, she encouraged him to hope that it would be easily handled between them.

It's easy to believe that Mrs. Norris didn't write to her sister for nothing. Mrs. Price seemed quite surprised that a girl was fixated on her when she had so many good boys, but gratefully accepted the offer, assuring them that their daughter was a very kind-hearted, good-humored girl, trusting that they would never have reason to drop her. She spoke of her father as a bit tender and puny, but was confident in the hope that she would be better off materially to change the air. Poor woman! She probably thought that a change of air would do many of her children good.

Chapter 4

Emma Lodge, handsome, smart and rich, with a comfortable home and a happy vibe, seemed to combine some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived in the world for almost twenty-one years, with very little to torment or annoy them.

She was the youngest of the two daughters of a loving, forgiving father; and had been the mistress of his house at a very early age as a result of her sister's marriage. Her mother had died too long ago for her to have more than a vague memory of her caresses; and her place had been taken as governess by an excellent woman who had barely complied with a loving mother.

For sixteen years, Miss Taylor had been in Mr. Lodge's family, less as a governess than as a friend, the two daughters, but especially Emma, ?? very much loved. Between them, it was more the intimacy of sisters. Even before Miss Taylor had stopped holding the nominal office of governess, the gentleness of her temperament had hardly allowed her to impose any restraint; and the shadow of authority was long gone, they lived together as a friend and friend who was very attached to each other, and Emma did exactly what she liked; Highly appreciative of Miss Taylor's judgment, but mainly guided by her own.

The real evils of Emma's situation were actually the ability to have quite too much of her own will, and a tendency to think a little too well of herself; these were the disadvantages that threatened to affect their many pleasures. But the danger was immediately so unnoticed that it was by no means considered a misfortune for her.

Grief came – a gentle sorrow – but not at all in the form of an unpleasant consciousness. – Miss Taylor married. It was Miss Taylor's loss that first brought grief. It was on this beloved friend's wedding day that Emma sat for the first time in sad thoughts of some kind of survival. The wedding was over, the bride and groom were gone, her father and she had to dine together, with no prospect of a third to celebrate a long evening. Her father went to sleep after dinner as usual, and all she had to do was sit down and think about what she had lost.

The event promised all luck for her friend. Mr. Winstone was a man of impeccable character, easy fortune, reasonable age and pleasant manners; and it was a certain satisfaction to consider the self-denying, generous friendship with which she had always desired and promoted the match; but it was the work of a black morning for her. The lack of Miss Taylor would be felt every day at any hour. She remembered her former kindness – the kindness, the affection of sixteen years – how she had taught her and how she had played with her since the age of five – how she had used all her powers to keep her healthy and amused – and how she had cared for her through the various illnesses of childhood. Great gratitude was due here; but the intercourse of the last seven years, the equality and complete impartiality that soon followed Bella's marriage, that they were left to each other, was an even better, more tender memory. She had been a friend and companion that few possessed: intelligent, well-informed, useful, meek, familiar with all the ways of the family, interested in all her concerns, and especially interested in herself, in every pleasure, in every one of her plans – one with whom she could speak every thought as soon as it appeared, and who had such affection for her, that she never had anything to complain about.

How should she endure the change? - It was true that her friend was only half a mile away from them; but Emma was aware that the difference between a Mrs. Winstone, who was only half a mile away from them, and a Miss Taylor in the house must be great; and with all her natural and domestic benefits, she was now in great danger of suffering from mental loneliness. She loved her father very much, but he was not a companion to her. He could not meet her in conversation, rationally or playfully.

The evil of the actual age difference (and Mr. Lodge had not married early) was exacerbated by his constitution and habits; for since he had been a valet all his life, without mental or physical activity, he was in a way a much older man than in years; and although he was loved everywhere for his kind heart and gracious temperament, his talents could never have recommended him.

Her sister, although relatively little away by marriage, settled in London, only sixteen miles away, was much out of her daily reach; and many long October and November evenings had to be fought through in Hartfield before Christmas brought the next visit of Bella and her husband and young children to fill the house and give her pleasant company again.

Highbury, the large and populous village that almost resembled a town to which Hartfield really belonged despite its separate lawn, bushes and name, offered it no equals. The lodges were the first in a row to be there. Everyone looked up to them. She had many acquaintances in the village, because her father was generally polite, but none of them who could be accepted even for half a day instead of Miss Taylor. It was a melancholic change; and Emma couldn't help but sigh about it and wish for impossible things until her father woke up and made it necessary to be cheerful. His spirits needed support. He was a nervous man, slightly depressed; loved every body to which he was accustomed and hated to part with it; Hatred of any kind of change. Marriage as the origin of change has always been unpleasant; and he was by no means reconciled with the marriage of his own daughter, nor could he ever speak of her, but with pity, although it had been completely a game of affection when he now had to separate from Miss Taylor as well; and because of his gentle selfishness and the fact that he could never assume that other people could feel differently than himself, he was very inclined to believe that Miss Taylor had done as much sadness to herself as she did to them and would have been much happier if she had spent the rest of her life in Hartfield. Emma smiled and chatted as happily as she could to keep him from such thoughts; but when the tea came, it was impossible for him not to say exactly what he had said at dinner: when he now had to part with Miss Taylor as well; and because of his gentle selfishness and the fact that he could never assume that other people could feel differently than himself, he was very inclined to believe that Miss Taylor had done as much sadness to herself as she did to them and would have been much happier if she had spent the rest of her life in Hartfield. Emma smiled and chatted as happily as she could to keep him from such thoughts; but when the tea came, it was impossible for him not to say exactly what he had said at dinner: when he now had to part with Miss Taylor as well; and because of his gentle selfishness and the fact that he could never assume that other people could feel differently than himself, he was very inclined to believe that Miss Taylor had done as much sadness to herself as she did to them and would have been much happier if she had spent the rest of her life in Hartfield. Emma smiled and chatted as happily as she could to keep him from such thoughts; but when the tea came, it was impossible for him not to say exactly what he had said at dinner: and would have been much happier if she had spent the rest of her life in Hartfield. Emma smiled and chatted as happily as she could to keep him from such thoughts; but when the tea came, it was impossible for him not to say exactly what he had said at dinner: and would have been much happier if she had spent the rest of her life in Hartfield. Emma smiled and chatted as happily as she could to keep him from such thoughts; but when the tea came, it was impossible for him not to say exactly what he had said at dinner:

Poor Miss Taylor! – I wish she was here again. What a shame Winstone-san ever thought of her!

I can't agree with you, Dad; You know, I can't. Mr. Winstone is such a good-humoured, pleasant, excellent man that he deserves a good wife; – and you wouldn't have let Miss Taylor live with us forever and endured all my strange whims if she had one of her own house?

A house of its own! – But where is the advantage of having your own house? That's three times as big. – And you never have weird juices, my dear.

How many times will we visit them, and they come to see us! – We will always meet! We must begin; we have to leave very soon and pay a wedding visit.

My dear, how am I supposed to get this far? Randalls is so far away. I couldn't go half as far.

No, Dad, no one thought about your walk. We have to go in the carriage to be safe.

The car! But James won't like to put the horses out for so long – and where should the poor horses be while we pay our visit?

They are to be taken to Mr. Winstone's stable, Dad. You know that we have already settled all this. We discussed everything with Winstone-san last night. And as for James, you can be sure that he will always be happy to go to Randalls because his daughter is a maid there. I just doubt if he will ever take us anywhere else. That was your work, Dad. You brought Hannah to this good place. No one thought of Hannah until you mentioned her – James is so attached to you!

I'm very glad I thought of her. It was a great luck, because I would not have made poor James believe that he had been diminished because of anything; and I am sure that she will make a very good servant: she is a polite, pretty girl; I have a great opinion of her. When I see her, she always makes a kink and asks me in a very pretty way how I'm doing; and if you had her here to sew, I observe that she always turns the door lock around the right way and never slams shut. I am sure she will be an excellent servant; and it will be a great comfort to poor Miss Taylor to have around her someone she is used to seeing. Whenever James goes to his daughter, you know she will hear from us. He will be able to tell her how we are all doing.

Emma spared no effort to maintain this happier flow of thoughts, hoping to bring her father through the evening bearably with the help of backgammon and to be invaded by no regret other than her own. The backgammon table was set up; but a visitor came in right after and made it superfluous.

Mr. Hill, a reasonable man in his seven or thirty-eight, was not only a very old and intimate friend of the family, but as the older brother of Bella's husband, he was also particularly attached to her. He lived about a mile from Highbury, was a frequent visitor and always welcome and at this time more welcome than usual as he came directly from their shared connections in London. He had returned for a late dinner after a few days of absence and now went to Hartfield to say that everything was fine in Brunswick Square. It was a fortunate circumstance and revived Mr. Lodge for some time. Mr. Hill had a cheerful manner that was always good for him; and his many inquiries about poor Bella and her children were answered most satisfactorily. When this was over, Mr. Lodge gratefully remarked, It is very nice of you, Mr. Hill, to come out at this late hour to visit us. I'm afraid you must have had a shocking walk.

Not at all, sir. It's a beautiful lunar night; and so mild that I must withdraw from your great fire.

But you must have found it very damp and dirty. I wish you couldn't catch a cold.

Dirty, Lord! Look at my shoes. Not a stain on them.

Fountain! this is quite surprising, because we had a lot of rain here. It rained terribly heavily for half an hour while we were at breakfast. I wanted them to postpone the wedding.

By the way – I didn't wish you any joy. Since I am quite well aware of what kind of joy you both must feel, I am not in a hurry with my congratulations; but I hope it all turned out reasonably well. How did you all behave? Who cried the most?

Ah! poor Miss Taylor! It's a sad thing.

Poor Mr. and Miss Lodge, please; but I can't possibly say poor Miss Taylor. I appreciate you and Emma very much; but when it comes to the question of dependence or independence! - In any case, it must be better to have only one than two.

Especially when one of the two is such an imaginative, annoying creature! emma said playfully. That's what you have in mind, I know – and what you would certainly say if my father wasn't there.

I think it's really very true, my dear, Mr. Lodge said with a sigh. I'm afraid I'm sometimes very imaginative and annoying.

My dearest dad! You don't think I could mean you, or assume that Mr. Hill means you. What a terrible idea! Oh no! I meant only me. Mr. Hill loves to criticize me, you know – jokingly – it's all a joke. We always tell ourselves what we like.

In fact, Mr. Hill was one of the few people who could see flaws in Emma Lodge, and the only one who ever told her about it: and although this wasn't particularly pleasant for Emma herself, she knew that it would be so much less to her father that she wouldn't really let him suspect such a circumstance, because it is not considered perfect by everyone.

Emma knows I never flatter her, Mr. Hill said, but I didn't want to think about any body. Miss Taylor was used to pleasing two people; she will now have only one. Chances are she has to be a winner.

Well, emma said, ?? ready to let it pass – you want to hear about the wedding; and I'm happy to tell you that, because we all behaved nicely. Every body was punctual, every body in its best appearance: no tear and hardly a long face to see. Oh no; We all felt like we would only be half a mile apart and were sure we would meet every day.

Dear Emma endures everything so well, said her father. But, Mr. Hill, she's really sorry to lose poor Miss Taylor, and I'm sure she'll miss her more than she thinks.

Emma turned her head away, divided between tears and smiles. It's impossible that Emma doesn't miss such a companion, Mr. Hill said. We wouldn't like them as much as we do, sir, if we could accept it; but she knows how much marriage is to Miss Taylor's advantage; she knows how much it must be acceptable in Miss Taylor's years of life to be housed in her own house and how important comfortable care is to her, and therefore cannot afford to feel as much pain as pleasure. Every friend of Miss Taylor must be happy to have married her so happily.

And you forgot a joy for me, Emma said, ? and a very considerable one – that I made the match myself. I did the match, you know, four years ago; and that it takes place and will be right when so many people said Mr. Winstone would never marry again may comfort me for everything."

Mr. Hill shook his head. Her father lovingly replied, Ah! My dear, I wish you wouldn't make matches and predict things, because whatever you say always comes true. Please don't make any more matches.

"I promise you not to do anything for myself, Dad; but I really have to for other people. It is the greatest pleasure in the world! And after such a success, you know! Everyone said that Mr. Winstone would never marry again. Oh dear, no! Mr. Winstone, who had been a widower for so long and felt so comfortable without a wife, so constantly busy with his business in the city or with his friends here, always acceptable wherever he went, always cheerful – Mr. Winstone did not need to spend a single evening of the year alone if he did not like it. Oh no! Mr. Winstone would certainly never marry again. Some people even spoke of a promise to his wife on her deathbed, and others of the son and uncle not letting him. All sorts of solemn nonsense was talked about, but I didn't believe any of it.

"Since the day about four years ago, when Miss Taylor and I met him on Broadway Lane, when, because it started to drizzle, he rushed away with so much bravery and lent us two umbrellas from Farmer Mitchell, I've decided on the subject. I scheduled the game from that hour on; and if in this case such a success has blessed me, dear Dad, you can not believe that I will give up getting married.

I don't understand what you mean by 'success,' Mr. Hill said. Success requires effort. Your time has been used correctly and carefully if you have made an effort over the past four years to bring about this marriage. A worthy occupation for the spirit of a young lady! But if, as I rather imagine, you're going to do the match, as you call it, just mean your planning, that on a idle day you're saying to yourself, 'I think it would be a very good thing for Miss Taylor if Mr. Winstone were to marry her, and say it to yourself every now and then afterwards, why do you speak of success? Where is your merit? What are you proud of? They advised well; and that's all that can be said.

"And have you never known the pleasure and triumph of a stroke of