"Wisest, discreetest, virtuousest, best."
The band played, the sun shone, the green trees waved in the breeze, the silks and muslins fluttered, fair checks reddened, bright eyes glanced, sweet lips smiled, fairy forms flitted about, everything was elegant, lively, agreeable—any thing but pastoral, not at all in the fashion of an old French print of a Louis Quartorze fête champêtre. There were no mock shepherdesses, with powdered heads and crooks in their hands; no badly supported and out of character costumes; people came to act no part but that of lively, and if they could be, lovely English ladies, in the most fashionable gowns, meeting well-bred, well-dressed, well-intentioned English gentlemen. There were smiles, and flattery, and flirtations, and a little affectation, and some small share of folly; but on the whole, it was an extremely elegant and well-satisfied party, and every one was ready to tell every one else how excessively pleasant it was, and how much more they preferred these delightful, unformal parties, to the more usual, but less exciting, in-door assemblies.
To those who loved good eating and drinking, it could not fail of being an agreeable re-union, for "the feast provided, combined," the newspapers said on the occasion, "every delicacy of the season, which an out door repast would admit of, in profusion, and the hospitable and liberal-minded hosts were truly delighted to press on their nowise reluctant guests, the choicest viands and the most refreshing products of the vineyards."
In reallity, there was a great deal of pleasure afforded on the occasion, and if there were some dissatisfied minds, it may be concluded that they were those, who under no circumstances were likely to be pleased.
Among the discontented was Margaret Musgrove, who came over with a friend, in that friend's carriage, her husband driving the brother of this lady, as he preferred anything to accompanying his wife. After their arrival, he attached himself to this friend, and carried on with her a very tender flirtation. Mrs. Harding Russell was a fine, dashing woman, who very much enjoyed a flirtation with her friend's husband, and was delighted to make herself conspicuous, and the wife uncomfortable. Margaret would not have minded, had the brother been inclined to assist her in paying her husband off—but this was not the case, he was a man's companion, not a woman's, and never troubled himself to flirt at all. Margaret for some time formed a very inharmonious third to the otherwise lively duet which was performing between Tom and Mrs. Harding Russell, whose company made her perfectly miserable; but at length she succeeded in securing as a companion one of her former acquaintances, who though he had long ago ceased to care for Margaret Watson, had no objection, faute de mieux, to make himself agreeable to Mrs. Tom Musgrove.
When the greatest portion of the visitors was assembled, at a given signal, the sides of the largest marquee were opened, and every one was invited to the collation. Amidst the throng and pressure of this occasion, Emma found herself within a a short distance of her brother-in-law and his friend, and an unavoidable hearer of their conversation. Mr. Corbet was enquiring—
"What has come over Lord Osborne to make him such a different fellow from what he used to be? Why when I was here before, he was a fine, dashing lad, quite ready to join in any sort of sensible fun; and now he seems all taken up with women and girls. I remember when he would have scorned to join in such trumpery nonsense as this; but when I proposed just now that we should slip away to have a cigar and a little brandy and water, hot and comfortable, he told me he must attend to his sister's guests. Such a precious notion, 'pon my soul, I could not help laughing to think of a fellow like him turned into a lady's companion; a pretty thing indeed. If I were a peer of the realm, catch me troubling my head about any sisters or mother of mine."
"'Pon my honour, I think," said Tom, "it's a monstrous pity he is so altered, for I am sure he's not the same person to me that he was; I really think it is all for the sake of my sister-in-law, that pretty girl who is here now, you noticed her I dare say."
"Not I, I never look after pretty girls of that class—those I can have nothing to say to; there's an uncommon pretty girl at the lodge-gate, who stared at me as I came in, I noticed her there, and winked at her as hard as I could; and I intend to notice her again before I've done with her; but what are other pretty girls to me—not my sort, eh Tom?"
Tom laughed so much, Emma did not hear what followed, but it ended with a proposal that when they had had enough grub, they should adjourn to the lodge to look after the rustic beauty.