Courtesy and Contempt

Chapter 13

Chapter 13The first event of significance in the family was the death of Mr. Norris, which occurred when Esther was about fifteen years old, and inevitably brought changes and novelties. After Mrs. Norris left the rectory, she moved first to the park and later to a small house of Sir Thomas in the village and consoled herself over the loss of her husband, considering that she could do very well without him; and for their reduction in income through the obvious need for stricter austerity.

Life was after that for Edmund; and if his uncle had died a few years earlier, it would have been duly given to a friend to keep him until he was old enough for orders. But Tom's extravagance had been so great before this event that he necessitated a different disposal of the next presentation, and the younger brother had to help pay for the older one's pleasures. There was another family who was actually mistaken for Edmund; but although this circumstance had made the arrangement a little easier for sir Thomas' conscience, he could not help but perceive it as an act of injustice, and he seriously tried to impress his eldest son with the same conviction, hoping that it would produce a better effect than anything he had been able to say or do so far.

"I blush for you, Tom," he said in his most dignified manner; "I blush at the way out I am being driven to, and I hope that I can regret your feelings as a brother on this occasion. For ten, twenty, thirty years, perhaps for life, they robbed Edmund of more than half of the income he was entitled to. It may later be in my or your (hopefully) power to give him a better promotion; but it must not be forgotten that no benefit of this kind would have gone beyond his natural claims on us and that nothing can actually be an equivalent to the particular advantage he now has to give up because of the urgency of your debts."

Tom listened with some shame and some sorrow; but getting away as quickly as possible, he was soon able to think about it with cheerful selfishness, first, that he did not have half as much debt as some of his friends; secondly, that his father had made a most annoying piece of work out of it; and third, that the future incumbent, whoever he may be, would in all likelihood die very soon.

After the death of Mr. Norris, the presentation became the right of a Dr. Grant, who consequently came to live in Mansfield; and when he proved to be a strong man of forty-five years, it seemed likely that Mr. Schmidt's calculations would be disappointed. But "no, he was a short-necked, apoplectic guy and if he handles good things well, he would soon run away."

He had a wife about fifteen years his junior, but no children; and they entered the neighborhood with the usual fair report of being very respectable, pleasant people.

Now the time had come when Sir Thomas expected his sister-in-law to claim her share of her niece, the change in Mrs. Norris' situation and the improvement of Esther's age not only seemed to eliminate all previous objections to her livelihood, but even to give him the most decisive justification; and since his own circumstances were made less fair than before by some recent losses on his Estate in the West Indies, in addition to the extravagance of his eldest son, he did not feel unwelcome to be relieved of the cost of their maintenance and the obligation to provide for them in the future. In the fullness of his faith that such a thing must be, he mentioned his probability to his wife; and the first time the topic came back to her mind was when Esther was present, she calmly remarked to her, "So, Esther, you're going to leave us and live with my sister. How do you like it?"

Esther was too surprised to do more than repeat her aunt's words, "Do you want to leave?"

"Yes, honey; why should you wonder? You've been with us for five years, and my sister always wanted to take you with her when Norris-san died. But you still have to come up and pin my patterns."

The news was as unpleasant as it was unexpected for Esther. She had never experienced kindness from her aunt Norris and could not love her.

"I will be very sorry to leave," she said in a faltering voice.

"Yes, I dare say you will; that's enough, of course. I suppose you have tortured yourself as little as any other being in the world since you came into this house."

"I hope I'm not ungrateful, Aunt," Esther said modestly.

"No my darling; I hope not. I've always thought of you as a very good girl."

"And should I never live here again?"

"Never, my dear; but you are sure to have a cozy home. It can hardly make a difference to you whether you are in one house or the other."

Esther left the room with a very sad heart; she could not feel the difference as so small, she could not imagine living with some satisfaction with her aunt. As soon as she met with Edmund, she told him about her plight.

"Cousin," she said, "something will happen that I don't like at all; and although you've often persuaded me to come to terms with things I didn't like at first, you won't be able to do it now. I will live entirely with my Aunt Norris."

"Indeed!"

"Yes; my Aunt Schmidt just told me. It's pretty regulated. I'm going to leave Mansfield Park and go to the White House, I suppose as soon as she's gone there."

"Well, Esther, and if you weren't uncomfortable with the plan, I'd call it an excellent one."

"Oh, cousin!"

"It has everything else in its favor. My aunt behaves like a reasonable woman when she wishes for you. She chooses a friend and companion exactly where she should, and I'm glad her love of money doesn't bother her. You will be what you should be to them. I hope it doesn't worry you very much, Esther?"

"In fact, I can't like it. I love this house and everything in it: I won't love anything there. You know how uncomfortable I feel with her."

"I can't tell you anything about their behavior as a child; but it was the same for all of us, or almost like that. She never knew how to be nice to children. But you are now at an age to be treated better; I think she is already behaving better; and if you are her only companion, you must be important to her."

"I can't be important to anyone."

"What's to stop you?"

"Everything. My situation, my stupidity and awkwardness."

"As for your stupidity and clumsiness, my dear Esther, believe me, you never have a shadow of both, except when you use the words so inappropriately. There's no reason in the world why you shouldn't care where you're known. You have a good mind and a kind temperament, and I'm sure you have a grateful heart that could never accept kindness without wanting to reciprocate it. I don't know of any better qualifications for a friend and companion."

"You're too friendly," said Esther, who at such ?? Praise turned red; "How can I ever thank you as I should that you think of me so well? Oh! Cousin, if I am to leave, I will remember your goodness until the last moment of my life."

"But in fact, Esther, I should hope to be remembered from such a distance as the White House. You speak as if you were driving two hundred miles away instead of just through the park; but you will belong to us almost as much as before. The two families will meet every day throughout the year. The only difference is that if you live with your aunt, you will inevitably be promoted the way you should be. There are too many to hide behind; but with her you will be forced to speak for yourself."

"Oh! I'm not saying that."

"I have to say it, and I like to say it. Mrs. Norris is much better suited than my mother to take care of you now. She has the temperament to do a lot for anyone she's really interested in, and she'll force you to live up to your natural powers."

Esther sighed and said, "I can't see things the way you do; but I should believe you rather than myself, and I am very attached to you that you have tried to reconcile me with what must be. If I could assume that my aunt really cares about me, it would be delightful to feel significant to anyone. Here, I know, I don't belong to anyone, and yet I love this place so much."

"The place, Esther, is what you will not leave even though you are leaving the house. You have free disposal of the park and gardens as always. Even your constant little heart need not be afraid of such a nominal change. They will have to take the same walks, have the same library to choose from, look at the same people, the same horse to ride."

"Very right. Yes, dear old grey pony! Ah! Cousin, when I remember how much I used to be afraid of riding, the horrors it gave me to hear that it would probably do me good (oh! how I trembled when my uncle opened his lips when talking about horses) and then think of the gracious efforts you made to your senses, and persuade me out of my fears, and convince me that after a while I would like it, and feel how right you have proved, I am inclined to hope that you can always prophesy so well."

"And I firmly believe that being with Mrs. Norris will be just as good for your mind as riding will be for your health and also for your ultimate happiness."

Thus ended their conversation, which could just as well have been spared for any very adequate service she could render to Esther, for Mrs. Norris had no intention of taking her with her. It had never occurred to her on this occasion, but as a thing to be carefully avoided. To prevent it from being expected, she had opted for the smallest apartment, which could be considered posh among the buildings of the Mansfield community, as the White House was just big enough to accommodate her and her servants and to provide a guest room for a friend, which she particularly emphasized. The guest rooms in the rectory had never been desired, but the absolute need for a guest room for a friend has now never been forgotten. However, not all of their precautions could save them from being suspected of anything better; or perhaps, their mere display of the importance of a guest room could have led Sir Thomas to believe that it was actually intended for Esther. Lady Schmidt soon brought the matter to certainty by carelessly remarking to Mrs. Norris,

"I think sister, we don't need to keep Miss Lee any longer when Esther moves in with you."

Mrs. Norris almost pulled together. "Live with me, dear Lady Schmidt! What do you think?"

"Shouldn't she live with you? I thought you had settled it with Sir Thomas."

"Me! Never. I haven't spoken to Sir Thomas, nor a syllable about it, nor has he talked to me. Esther lives with me! the last thing in the world that I think about or that someone who really knows both of us could wish for. Good heavens! What should I do with Esther? Me! a poor, helpless, lost widow, incapable of anything, my mood collapsed completely; What could I do with a girl in her lifetime? A girl of fifteen! the age of everyone else to need the most attention and care, and to put the happiest spirits to the test! Sure, Sir Thomas couldn't seriously expect something like this! Sir Thomas is too much my friend. No one who wishes me all the best, I'm sure, would suggest it. How did Sir Thomas come to talk to you about it?"

"In fact, I don't know. I suppose he thought it was the best."

"But what did he say? He couldn't say he wanted me to take Esther with him. I'm sure in his heart that he couldn't wish it on me."

"No; he just said he thought it was very likely; and that's what I thought. We both thought it would be a comfort for you. But if you don't like it, there's nothing more to say. It is not a burden here."

"Dear sister, considering my unfortunate condition, how can she be a comfort to me? Here I am, a poor, desolate widow, deprived of the best man, weakened my health because I cared for and cared for him, my mood even worse, all my peace in this world destroyed, with barely enough to feed myself in the rank of a noblewoman, and allow me to live in such a way that the memory of the dear deceased has not fallen out of favor – what consolation could I have, if I take on such a responsibility as Esther? If I could wish for it for my own sake, I would not do anything wrong to the poor girl. She is in good hands and sure that she is doing well. I have to fight my way through my worries and difficulties as best I can."

"Then you don't mind living all alone?"

"Lady Schmidt, I'm not complaining. I know I can't live the way I did, but I need to retire where I can and learn to be a better manager. I was a liberal housekeeper enough, but I won't be ashamed to practice thrift now. My situation has changed as much as my income. From poor Mr. Norris as pastor of the congregation, many things were due that one could not expect from me. It is not known how much was consumed in our kitchen by odd arrivals and visitors. In the White House, things need to be better looked after. I will have to live with my income, or I will be unhappy; and I confess that it would give me great satisfaction to be able to do a little more, to put aside a little at the end of the year."

"I dare say you will. You always do, don't you?"

"My goal, Lady Schmidt, is to benefit those who come after me. For the sake of your children, I want to get richer. I don't have anyone else to take care of, but I would be very happy to think that I could leave them a little little thing worth having."

"You're very good, but don't care. You are sure to be well taken care of. Sir Thomas will take care of it."

"Well, you know, Sir Thomas' funds are going to be pretty tight if the Antigua estate is to produce such poor yields."

"Oh! this will soon be clarified. Sir Thomas wrote about it, I know."

"Well, Lady Schmidt," said Mrs. Norris and wanted to leave, "I can only say that my only wish is to be of benefit to your family, and if Sir Thomas ever talks again about taking Esther with me, she will be able to say that my health and my mind exclude it altogether; besides, I really shouldn't be able to give her a bed, because I have to keep a room free for a friend."

Lady Schmidt repeated enough of this conversation with her husband to convince him of how wrong he had been in his sister-in-law's views; and from that moment on she was completely safe from all expectation or the slightest allusion to it from him. He couldn't help but wonder that she refused to do anything for a niece she had been so happy to adopt; but since she cared early on to make him and Lady Schmidt understand that everything she owned was destined for her family, he soon reconciled with an award that was both beneficial and flattering to her, would allow him to better care for Esther himself.

Esther soon learns how unnecessary her fear of moving had been; and her spontaneous, unlearned bliss about the discovery gave Edmund some comfort for his disappointment with what he had expected to be so essentially useful to her. Mrs. Norris took possession of the White House, the Grants arrived at the rectory, and after these events, everything went on as usual in Mansfield for some time.

The Grants, who showed a penchant for kindness and conviviality, mainly gave their new acquaintance great satisfaction. They had their faults, and Mrs. Norris soon found them out. The doctor loved to eat and had a good dinner every day; and Mrs. Grant, instead of satisfying her cook with little effort, gave her cook as much pay as in Mansfield Park and was hardly ever seen in her offices. Mrs. Norris could not speak with all anger about such complaints or about the amount of butter and eggs that were regularly consumed in the house. "No one loved abundance and hospitality more than she did; no one hated miserable deeds anymore; the rectory, she believed, had never lacked amenities in her time, there had never been a bad character, but this was an approach she did not understand. A fine lady in a rectory in the countryside was completely out of place. Her pantry, she thought, might have been good enough for Mrs. Grant to go inside. Where she would inquire, she could not find out that Mrs. Grant had ever owned more than five thousand pounds."

Lady Schmidt listened to such insults without much interest. She couldn't get involved with the wrongs of an economist, but she felt all the hurts of beauty in the fact that Mrs. Grant lived so well in life without being handsome, and expressed her amazement at this point almost as often, though not as diffusely, as Mrs. Norris discussed the other.

These opinions had hardly been considered for a year when another event of such importance occurred in the family that could well claim a place in the thoughts and conversations of the ladies. Sir Thomas felt it expedient to go to Antigua himself for a better settlement of his affairs, and he took his eldest son with him, hoping to free him from any bad connections at home. They left England with the probability of being absent for almost twelve months.

The necessity of the measure in financial terms and the hope of benefit to his son reconciled Sir Thomas with the effort to leave the rest of his family and leave his daughters to lead others in their most interesting time at the moment. He could not consider Lady Schmidt to be up to occupy his place, or rather, to perform what should have been her own; but in the watchful attention of Mrs. Norris, and in the judgment of Edmund, he had enough confidence to let him go without fear for her behavior.

Lady Schmidt did not want her husband to leave her; but she has not been disturbed by any concern for his safety or concern for his comfort, since she is one of those people who think that nothing can be dangerous or difficult or tiring for anyone but herself.

Miss Schmidts were very sorry on this occasion: not because of their grief, but because of their lack of it. Her father was not an object of love for her; he had never been the friend of their pleasures, and his absence was unfortunately most welcome. They were thus freed from all restraint; and without aiming for any satisfaction that Sir Thomas would probably have f*******n, they immediately felt at their own disposal and at any satisfaction within their reach. Esther's relief and awareness of it were those of her cousins?? quite equal; but a more tender nature suggested that her feelings were ungrateful, and she really grieved because she couldn't grieve. "Sir Thomas, who had done so much for her and her brothers and who may never have returned! that she should see him walk without a tear! it was a shameful insensitivity." In addition, he had told her the very last morning that he hoped she would see William again in the course of the following winter, and had instructed her to write to him and invite him to Mansfield as soon as he belonged to the squadron was known to be in England. "That was so thoughtful and kind!" and had he just smiled at her and called her "my dear Esther" while he said it, any previous frowns or cold salutations would have been forgotten. But he had finished his speech in such a way that he sunk it into sad humiliation, adding: "When William comes to Mansfield, I hope you can convince him that the many years that have passed since your separation have not passed on your side without any improvement; although I'm afraid he has to find his sister at sixteen in some ways too much like his sister at ten." She wept bitterly at this reflection when her uncle was gone; and her cousins, when they saw her with red eyes, sat her down as a hypocrite.