Though by no means pleased with Mr. and Mrs. Percy’s answer to several of her letters of counsel, yet she thought it her duty, as a friend and relation, to persevere. She invited herself to the Hills, where, with great difficulty, through scarcely practicable cross roads, she arrived. She was so much fatigued and exhausted, in body and mind, that during the first evening she could talk of nothing but her hair-breadth escapes. The next morning after breakfast, she began with, “My dear Mr. Percy, now I have a moment’s ease, I have a thousand things to say to you. I am very much surprised that you have thought fit to settle here quite out of the world. Will you give me leave to speak my mind freely to you on the subject?”
“As freely as you please, my dear Lady Jane, upon any subject, if you will only promise not to be offended, if we should not coincide in opinion.”
“Certainly, certainly; I am sure I never expect or wish any body to submit to my opinion, though I have had opportunities of seeing something of the world: but I assure you, that nothing but very particular regard would induce me to offer my advice. It is a maxim of mine, that family interference begins in ill-breeding and ends in impertinence, and accordingly it is a thing I have ever particularly avoided. But with a particular friend and near relation like you, my dear Mr. Percy, I think there ought to be an exception. Now, my dear sir, the young people have just left the room—I can take this opportunity of speaking freely: your daughters—what will you do with them?”
“Do with them! I beg pardon for repeating your ladyship’s words, but I don’t precisely understand your question.”
“Well, precise sir, then, in other words, how do you mean to dispose of them?”
“I don’t mean to dispose of them at all,” said Mr. Percy.
“Then let me tell you, my good friend,” said Lady Jane, with a most prophetic tone, “let me tell you, that you will live to repent that.—You know I have seen something of the world—you ought to bring them forward, and make the most of their birth, family, and connexions, put them in a way of showing their accomplishments, make proper acquaintance, and obtain for your girls what I call the patronage of fashion.”
“Patronage!” repeated Mr. Percy: “it seems to be my doom to hear of nothing but patronage, whichever way I turn. What! patronage for my daughters as well as for my sons!”
“Yes,” said Lady Jane, “and look to it; for your daughters will never go on without it. Upon their first coming out, you should—” Here her ladyship stopped short, for Caroline and Rosamond returned. “Oh! go on, go on, let me beg of your ladyship,” said Mr. Percy: “why should not my daughters have the advantage of hearing what you are saying?”
“Well, then, I will tell them candidly that upon their first coming out, it will be an inconceivable advantage, whatever you may think of it, to have the patronage of fashion! Every day we see many an ugly face, many a mere simpleton, many a girl who had nothing upon earth but her dress, become quite charming, when the radiance of fashion is upon them. And there are some people who can throw this radiance where and on whom they please, just as easily,” said Lady Jane, playing with a spoon she held in her hand, “just as easily as I throw the sunshine now upon this object and now upon that, now upon Caroline and now upon Rosamond. And, observe, no eye turns upon the beauteous Caroline now, because she is left in the shade.”