“You and Mr Bennett should have made a point of it, you should indeed, if only in consideration of what is past,” she said, shaking her head impressively. “There can be no doubt but that it was his duty to come. And it always grieves me deeply when you see people endeavouring to evade a duty.”
“He has gone to London,” said poor Mrs Bennett, with a feeble show of indignation. “And my husband says that ladies have no idea of what business requires.”
“I flatter myself that there is nothing of Mr Featherly’s business which I do not know as well as he does himself,” said Mrs Featherly loftily, “and I should make it a point of principle to be acquainted with that of any one likely to become connected with our family, especially if there were a past to be considered. But of course, if Mr Bennett is satisfied—and he is, I believe, remarkable for his caution?”
It was one of Mrs Featherly’s peculiarities to credit people with virtues which could not be considered strong marks in their character. Caution was so far from being Mr Bennett’s prerogative, that one or two little difficulties in his profession had arisen from his lack of that lawyer-like quality. Mrs Bennett thought of moving to another part of the garden, but she was in a comfortable chair and could see no other vacant seat, so she murmured an assent and let her tormentor run on.
“One is bound at all times to hope for the best, and, of course, we feel an interest in this young man, the son of a neighbouring clergyman and all, as my husband very properly remarked. But it is most unfortunate. Poor Ada, I am really quite sorry for her, and so is Augusta. Were you thinking of moving? I know you are so active that I dare say you hardly share my relief in sitting still. With a parish like ours I assure you the responsibilities become a very heavy burden, but, as you say, there are family responsibilities which are scarcely less trying, and poor Ada not being your daughter—”
It was like a nightmare. Poor Mrs Bennett, who had not thought much of Anthony’s going to London, and was conscious of all the capabilities of comfort around her, began to feel as if everything were wrong, and had no weapons with which to defend herself. Luckily for her Mr Mannering came by, and she almost caught at him as he passed.
“It is rather hot here,” she said, searching about for some physical means of accounting for her discomfort. “I think I should like to move to a shadier part.”
“We will both go,” said Mrs Featherly, spreading out her dress. “Now that you are here, Mr Mannering, I may as well remind you of your promise of subscription to our organ. Was it you or Mr Robert?—but of course it is the same thing.”
“I wish it were,” said Mr Mannering, in his courteous, easy manner. “Robert is the philanthropic half of the house, and I have every desire to benefit by his good deeds. I always aid and abet them at any rate, so that, if you will allow me, I will make him over to you where he shall not escape.”
“Ah, but you must assist us, too,” said Mrs Featherly. “It is a most dangerous doctrine to suppose that you can avoid responsibilities. That is just what I was pointing out to our friend. Naturally she and Mr Bennett feel much anxiety with regard to their niece, and it is so unfortunate that Mr Miles did not make a point of being here to-day at all events.”