Stephanie Barron - Jane and the Man of the Cloth

It was then my occasion to ruminate on last night's Assembly — which, though pleasant, was not very full for Thursday; the Miss Schuylers were gone away some days, and though their return is imminent, I understand from Mrs. Barnewall that they think of quitting Lyme altogether in the coming week. I was actually honoured in Mr. Crawford's asking me to dance twice, that gentleman being moved to pity by the dearth of younger fellows in the rooms; though a new, odd-looking man, whom I judged to be Irish by his ease, and in the company of the Honourable Barnewalls, might have asked me — but came to the point of it only as I was quitting the rooms.

Mr. Dagliesh was present in the Assembly from the first moment, until called out by Mr. Carpenter to answer the pressing need of a child scalded in a pan of dishwater. At my entering the rooms, the surgeon's assistant was indeed the first acquaintance I perceived — for he hastened to my side, and took my hand so earnestly, and enquired what news I had of my sister — at which Mr. Crawford intervened.

“Her flight from your ministrations appears to have done her a world of good, Dagliesh, “Mr. Crawford said, with great good humour and a slyly conscious look for the blushing fellow; “I was so very fortunate as to encounter Miss Austen this morning with her party in Weymouth, and found her much improved. I was able to convey the happy intelligence to all her dear family only a few hours ago.”

“Happy, indeed, to have been in so lovely a creature's presence,” Mr. Dagliesh murmured, with a distracted air. “I am relieved to find that Miss Austen's removal did not increase the pain of her injuries.”

“My brother Henry's carriage is so good, and his horses so gentle, that I am sure her passage along the coastal roads occurred without incident,” I assured him. “We were sorry, Mr. Dagliesh, that you failed to make your own adieux to my sister; but her departure could not be delayed, as it depended upon die wishes and needs of others; and you had said you would attend her very early that morning.”

The gentleman stammered, and looked confused; and indeed, seemed in such an agony of emotion, that I instantly took pity upon him. “But a surgeon's days are never his own to command, as my sister and I fully comprehend. You could not, perhaps, have come any earlier.”

Mr. Dagliesh had appeared at Wings cottage, in all the disorder of extreme haste, some two hours after Cassandra's departure, and his disappointment at the fact suggested that he had been prevented from attending my sister by a sudden interference of events — and that he was quite put out by the loss of his farewell. From his present regret, I received a further conviction of my supposition's truth.

“I was called away suddenly — an injury of some moment — and with no other assistance available,” he said, somewhat brokenly. “Not for anything but the direst circumstance should I have neglected to offer my compliments to Miss Austen. Pray convey them to her at the nearest opportunity, and I shall be the better for having attempted to make amends. I draw some comfort from the news that she is much improved; it is all that I could wish for.”

“You are too good,” I said gently. “I am sure that the knowledge of your heartfelt regard has furthered her recovery.”

The poor gentleman was so much overcome by this notion, as to be rendered almost insensible for several moments; and though he collected himself enough to request my hand for the first dance, he was called away not long thereafter, and so our mutual expectation of felicity — mine, in being so soon solicited, and his, in the prospect of discussing nothing but Cassandra for a full half-hour — were all overthrown.

The circle was somewhat enlivened by the appearance of Miss Lucy Armstrong's father and mother — enlivened by the opportunity their presence afforded, of observing how heartily they are disliked by Miss Crawford. The Armstrongs have come down from Bath (by the terrible post chaise), expressly to retrieve poor Lucy from her summer idyll — and upon my word, idyll it must have been, with all its trials, in comparison to her usual society — for the parents are of a vulgar turn, quite apparent in Mrs. Armstrong's choice of gown, a brilliant yellow silk with black jet beads running the length of her very lengthy train [55] The length of a woman's train increased with her desire for elegance; Austen usually ascribes a long sweep to her more vulgar characters, such as Isabella Thorpe in Northanger Abbey. — Editor's note. — unsuitable for September, and particularly for Lyme. The lady's manner does not improve upon further acquaintance, for when I visited Lucy yesterday morning — being desperate for female society in the absence of my dear sister — Mrs. Armstrong sat darning a sock the entire time

I was present, and seemed quite given to conversing with herself, through a series of exclamations and sighs, regarding the poor quality of Miss Crawford's housemaid. I do not believe she heard above half a dozen words that passed. But my own mother is little better — being equally adept at self-distraction — and I must desist from mocking the habits of others, lest my derision come home to roost.

Miss Armstrong and I soon abandoned her parents for a walk along the Cobb, and the exercise and mutual pleasure in each other's society soon raised our spirits. The girl is a poor substitute for Cassandra or Eliza, but her understanding improves the further she flees from Miss Crawford's sharp tongue; she is conversable in a common way, though I perceive neither wit nor genius. Lucy is possessed of sense, and some degree of taste; and unlike her mother or aunt, her manners are most engaging. I must believe it is this quality — a general air of agreeability — that endears her to Mr. Sidmouth; for that he admires her — though to what degree I cannot be certain — is evident in the attention he continues to pay her. [56] Much of this description of the past few days, and Austen's circle of acquaintance in Lyme, may be found almost verbatim in the surviving letter she wrote to Cassandra the same morning as this journal entry. A copy of that letter was not included in this journal, but can be found in the collected correspondence (Jane. Austen's Letters, Deirdre LeFaye, ed., Third Edition. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995, Letter #39, page 92). — Editors note.

I had occasion to observe the gentleman rogue of High Down at the Assembly last evening, for Mr. Sidmouth appeared towards the close of the ball, and well after my father had departed with James and his lanthorn for Wings cottage — disappointed in his hopes of playing at loo, my mother being for commerce, and Captain Fielding moved to affect his attitude of le Chevalier, by gallantly acceding to her request that he partner her at the table. In the event, they divided the pot between them — a testament, I fear, to Captain Fielding's superior understanding; for when my mother plays with another as equally prone to forgetfulness as herself, she rarely triumphs in so prosperous a fashion.

But now to Mr. Sidmouth — who, I declare, is possessed of the greatest sang-froid, in parading himself before the very society that must have observed his embattled flight a few dawns previous. He was as cool and collected as ever, bowing with frigid gentility in Captain Fielding's direction; and being prevented from partnering myself in the first two dances, by my engagement to Mr. Crawford, he soon made himself available to Miss Armstrong, who was glad enough to take his hand. He was all that could be desired in a partner; he danced well, did not confuse the figures, or trample her pale blue slippers; he attempted to converse, and from what snatches I overheard, kept the talk in a general way; but the fact of his attention seemed to overwhelm his fair partner. I observed that she spent the better part of the hour consigned to his company, with downcast eyes and a scarlet throat— Ah! The delicate sensibility of nineteen!