“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 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.
SENSE AND SENSIBILITY
77
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.