CHAPTER 9.
One day, soon after Charlotte’s arrival at Sanditon, she had the pleasure of seeing just as she ascended from the Sands to the Terrace, a Gentleman’s Carriage with Post Horses standing at the door of the Hotel, as very lately arrived, & by the quantity of Luggage taking off, bringing it might be hoped, some respectable family determined on a long residence.—Delighted to have such good news for Mr& MrsP., who had both gone home some time before, she proceeded for Trafalgar House with as much alacrity as could remain, afterhaving beencontending for the last 2 hours with a very fine wind blowingdirectly on shore; but she had not reached the little Lawn, when she saw a Lady walking nimbly behind her at no great distance; and convinced that itcould beno acquaintance of her own, she resolved to hurry on & get into the Houseif possible before her. But the Stranger’s pacedid not allowthis to be accomplished;—Charlotte was on the steps & had rung, but the door was not opened,whenthe other crossed the Lawn;—and when the Servant appeared, they were just equally ready for entering the House.—The ease of the Lady, her “How do you do Morgan?—” & Morgan’s Looks on seeing her, werea moment’s astonishment—but another moment brought MrP. into the Hall to welcome the Sister he had seen from the Drawgroom, and she was soon introduced to Miss Diana Parker. There wasa greatdeal ofsurprisebut still morepleasure in seeing her.—Nothing cdbe kinder than her reception from both Husband and Wife. “Howdid she come? & with whom?—And they were so glad to find her equal to the Journey!—Andthat she wasto belong tothem, was a thing of course.” Miss Diana P. was about 4 & 30, ofmiddlingheight & slender;—delicate looking rather than sickly;with an agreable face, & a very animated eye;—her manners resemblingher Brother’s in their ease & frankness, thoughwith more decision& less mildness in her Tone. She began an account of herselfwithout delay.—Thanking them for their Invitation, but “thatwas quite out of the question, for they were all three come, & meant to get into Lodgings & make some stay.”—“All three come!—What!—Susan & Arthur!—Susan able to come too!—Thiswasbetter & better.” “Yes—we are actually allcome. Quite unavoidable.—Nothing else to be done.—You shall hear all about it.—But my dear Mary, send for the Children;—I long to see them.”—“And how has Susan born the Journey?—& how is Arthur?—& why do not we see him here with you?”—“Susan has born it wonderfully. She had not a wink of sleep either the night before we set out, or lastnightat Chichester,and asthis is notso commonwith heraswithme, I have had a thousand fears for her—but she has kept upwonderfully.—had no Hystericsof consequence till we camewithin sight ofpoor old Sanditon—andthe attack was not very violent—nearly overby the time we reached your Hotel—so that we got her out of the Carriage extremely well,with onlyMrWoodcock’s assistance—& when I left her she was directingthe Disposal of the Luggage, & helping oldSamuncordthe Trunks.—She desired her best Love,with a thousand regretsatbeing so poora Creature that she cdnot come with me. And as for poor Arthur, he wdnot have beenunwillinghimself, but there is so much Wind that I did not think he cdsafely venture,—for I amsurethere is Lumbago hangingabouthim—andso Ihelped him on with his great Coat & sent him off tothe Terrace, totake us Lodgings.—Miss Heywood must have seen our Carriage standing at theHotel.—I knew Miss Heywood the moment I saw her before meon the Down.—My dear Tom I am glad to see you walk so well. Let me feel your Ancle.—That’s right; all right & clean. The play of your Sinews averylittleaffected:—barely perceptible.—Well—nowfor the explanation of my being here.—I told you in my Letter, of the two considerable Families, I was hoping to secure for you—the West Indians, & the Seminary.—” Here MrP. drew his Chair still nearer to his Sister, & took her hand again most affectionately as he answered “Yes, Yes;—How active & how kind you have been!”—“The Westindians, she continued, whom I look upon as themostdesirable of the two—as the Best ofthe Good—prove to be a MrsGriffiths & her family. Iknow them onlythrough others.—You musthave heard me mention Miss Capper, the particular friend ofmyvery particular friend Fanny Noyce;—now, Miss Capper is extremely intimate with a MrsDarling, who is on terms of constant correspondence with MrsGriffiths herself.—Onlyashortchain, you see,between us, & not a Link wanting. MrsG. meant to go to the Sea, for her Young People’s benefit—had fixed on the coast of Sussex, but was undecided as to thewhere, wanted something Private, & wrote to ask the opinion of her friend MrsDarling.—Miss Capper happened to be staying with MrsD. when MrsG.’s Letter arrived, & was consultedon the question;shewrote the same day to Fanny Noyce and mentioned it to her—& Fanny all alive forus, instantly took up her pen & forwarded the circumstance to me—except as toNames—which have but lately transpired.—Therewas butonething formeto do.—I answered Fanny’s Letter by the same Post & pressed for the recommendation of Sanditon. Fanny had feared your having no house large enoughto receivesuch a Family.—But I seem to bespinning out my story to an endless length.—You see how it was all managed. I had the pleasure of hearing soon afterwards by the samesimple link of connectionthat Sanditonhad beenrecommended by MrsDarling, & that the Westindians were very much disposed to go thither.—This was the state of thecasewhen I wrote to you;—but two daysago;—yes, the day before yesterday—I heard again from Fanny Noyce, saying thatshehad heard from Miss Capper, who by a Letter from MrsDarling understood that MrsG.— has expressed herself in a letter to MrsD. more doubtingly on the subject of Sanditon.—Am I clear?—I would be anything rather than not clear.”—“Oh! perfectly, perfectly. Well?”—“The reason of this hesitation, was her having no connections in the place, & no means of ascertainingthat she should have good accomodations onarriving there;—and she was particularly careful & scrupulous on all those matters more on account of a certain Miss Lambe a young Lady (probably a Neice) under her care, than on her ownaccountor her Daughters.—Miss Lambe has an immense fortune—richer than all the rest—& very delicate health.—One sees clearly enough byall this, thesortof Woman MrsG. must be—as helpless & indolent, as Wealth & a Hot Climate are aptto make us. But we are not all born to equal Energy.—What was to be done?—I had a few moments indecision;—Whetherto offer to write toyou,—or to MrsWhitbytosecure them a House?—but neither pleased me.—I hate to employ others, when Iam equalto act myself—and my conscience told me that this was an occasion which calledforme. Here was a family of helpless Invalides whom I might essentially serve.—I sounded Susan—the same Thought had occurred to her.—Arthur made no difficulties—our plan was arranged immediately, we were off yesterday morngat 6—,left Chichesterat the same hour today—& here we are.—” “Excellent!—Excellent!—cried MrParker.—Diana, you are unequal’d in serving your friends& doing Good to all the World.—I know nobody like you.—Mary, my Love, is not she a wonderful Creature?—Well—and now, what House do you design to engage for them?—What is the size of their family?—” “I do not at all know—replied his Sister—have not the least idea;—never heard any particulars;—but I am very sure that the largest house at Sanditon cannot betoolarge. They are more likely towant a second.—I shall take only one however, & that, but for a week certain.—Miss Heywood, I astonish you.—You hardly know what to make of me.—I see by your Looks, that you are not used to suchquickmeasures.”—The words“Unaccountable Officiousness!—Activity run mad!”—had just passed through Charlotte’s mind—buta civilanswer was easy. “I dare say Idolook surprised, said she—because these are very great exertions, & I knowwhat Invalides both you & your Sister are.” “Invalides indeed.—I trust there are not three People in England who have so sad a right to thatappellation!—But my dear Miss Heywood, we are sent into this World to be as extensively useful as possible, & where some degree of Strength of Mind is given, it is not a feeble body which will excuse us—orinclineus to excuse ourselves.—TheWorldis pretty much divided between the Weak of Mind & the Strong—between those who can act & those who cannot, & it is the bounden Duty of the Capable to letno opportunity of being useful escape them.—My Sister’s Complaints & mine are happily not often of a Nature, to threaten Existenceimmediately—& as long as wecanexert ourselves to beof use ofothers, I am convinced that the Body is the better, for the refreshment the Mind receives in doing it’s Duty.—While I have been travelling, with this object in veiw, I have been perfectly well.”—The entrance of the Children ended this little panegyric on her own Disposition—& after having noticed & caressed them all,—she prepared to go.—“Cannot you dine with us?—Is not it possible to prevail on you to dine with us?” was then the cry; andthatbeing absolutely negatived, it was “And when shall we see you again? and how can we be of use to you?”—and MrP.warmly offered his assistancein taking the house for MrsG.—“I will come to you the moment I have dined, said he, & we will go about together.”—But this was immediately declined.—“No, my dear Tom, upon no account in the World, shall you stir a step on any businessof mine.—Your Ancle wants rest. I see by the position of your foot, that you have used it too much already.—No, I shall go about my House-taking directly. Our Dinner is not ordered till six—& by that time I hope to have completed it. It is now only ½ past 4.—As to seeingmeagaintoday—I cannot answer for it; the others will be at the Hotel all the Eveng, & delighted to see you at any time, but as soon as I get back I shallhear what Arthur has done about our own Lodgings, & probably the moment Dinner is over, shall be out again on business relative to them, for we hope to get intosome Lodgings or other& be settled after breakfast tomorrow.—I have not much confidence in poor Arthur’s skill for Lodging-taking, but he seemed to likethe commission.—” “I think you are doing too much, said MrP. You will knock yourself up. You shdnot move again after Dinner.” “No, indeed you should not. cried his wife, for Dinner is such a merenamewith you all, that it can do you no good.—I know what your appetites are.—” “My appetite is very much mended I assure you lately. I have been taking some Bitters of my own decocting, which have done wonders. Susan never eatsI grant you—& just at presentIshall want nothing;I never eat for about a week after a Journey—but as for Arthur, heis only too much disposed for Food. We are oftenobliged to check him.”—“But you have not told me any thing of theotherFamily coming to Sanditon, said MrP. as he walked with her to the door of the House—the Camberwell Seminary; have we a good chance ofthem?” “Oh! Certain—quite certain.—I had forgotten them for the moment, but I had a letter 3 days ago from my friend MrsCharles Dupuis which assured me of Camberwell. Camberwell will be here to a certainty, & very soon.—Thatgood Woman (I do not know her name) not being so wealthy &independantas MrsG.— can travel & chuse for herself.—I will tell you how I got ather. MrsCharles Dupuis lives almost next door to a Lady, who has a relation lately settledat Clapham,who actually attends the Seminary and gives lessons on Eloquence andBelles Lettres to some of the Girls.—I got that Man a Hare from one of Sidney’s friends—and he recommended Sanditon;—Withoutmyappearing however—MrsCharles Dupuis managed it all.—”