Charlie Lovett First Impressions (epub)

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.“Do you feel well, Mr.Mansfield?” she asked at last.“For I have not known you to eschew conversation with me for so long unless you have a book in your hand.”“You must forgive me, Miss Austen.I am only silent because I feel I must chose my words carefully so as not to give offense.”“Surely, Mr.Mansfield, you need never concern yourself with giving offense to me.Are you angry with me?”“Certainly not,” he said.“Nothing could be further from the truth; it is only that your imminent departure forces me to express an opinion which I hope you will take in the kind spirit with which it is intended.”“I could do nothing less with you, Mr.Mansfield.But you frighten me.Tell me what you have to say.”“I am concerned,” he began, but then he broke off.“Concerned?” said Jane.“What gives you concern? Certainly no improper words or actions on my part?”“On your part, no,” said Mr.Mansfield.“I am concerned about Mr.Willoughby.”Jane gave a little laugh.“Mr.Willoughby? Please, Mr.Mansfield, say what you will against him, for I confess I am relieved that it is he and not I who has earned your disapprobation, especially as he is fictional and therefore it is much easier to reform his ways than my own.”“I only feel that when Mr.Willoughby first comes into the lives of the Dashwoods, one already has the sense that he is a scoundrel.The shock of Miss Marianne’s rejection would be so much more powerful if we had no reason to suspect Willoughby of duplicity until his true character is revealed.”“So Willoughby should come onto the stage as more of a hero?”“Exactly.That is precisely how I should put it.I do hope you do not think me impertinent to say so.”“Mr.Mansfield, I have always expressed my sincere appreciation for your criticism, and I do not except this attack on Mr.Willoughby.” Lost in their conversation, Jane tripped on a root that lay across the path and stumbled forward.Mr.Mansfield caught her arm and steadied her, and the two walked on.“Perhaps it is that simple,” said Jane.“You have an idea, I can see,” said Mr.Mansfield, “but I confess I cannot detect its nature.”“Perhaps Marianne, walking alone and without a kind octogenarian to keep her upright, falls and twists her ankle and Willoughby rescues her.He could thus be a hero from the moment we meet him.”“I am relieved that you not only welcome my criticism,” said Mr.Mansfield, “but that you are so quickly able to solve the problem.I did not feel I could send you into Kent to write of a Willoughby who was less than he might be.”“And for that I am most grateful,” said Jane.They had reached the gatehouse, and Jane, who was to depart early the following morning, took her leave.“Do not forget that you have promised to write.Know that I will always be grateful for words from you—even when, or I may say especially when, they are critical of my creations.” Mr.Mansfield accompanied her through the gate of the estate and watched as she turned down the lane in the direction of Steventon.She turned back just before the opening in the hedgerow, where she would leave the road and set off across the fields, for a final glimpse of Mr.Mansfield, who stood by the gatehouse, waving.—AS IT HAPPENED, JANE’S stay in Kent was so filled with visits and balls and long conversations with her brother Edward and his charming wife, Elizabeth, that she had little time for writing beyond the mandatory letters to Cassandra.She had not the heart to write to Mr.Mansfield of the scant progress she had made in the adventures of the Dashwood family, and so to his letters of literary encouragement she replied only with brief notes of family news and an account of a ball.To this last, Mr.Mansfield replied:Dear Miss Austen,Busbury Park is a lonely spot without you.I find neither Mrs.Harris, the housekeeper, nor the swans on the lake are able to converse on literary topics, and as for the residents of the main house, their interests lie much more in the way of shooting than reading.While I do not begrudge your brother a visit with his sister, you must return soon if my mind is not to atrophy.And please bring the Dashwoods with you.They are missed, though not as much as their creator.Yours Most Affectionately,Rev.Richard MansfieldLaying this letter on her dressing table, Jane was surprised to find that a well of emptiness seemed to open in her heart.She had felt slightly odd during her visit, almost as if she were watching herself from a distance, and she had given that feeling no serious thought until this moment.Now she realized that she not only missed Mr.Mansfield, but she missed him terribly—in a way that she did not miss Cassandra or her parents.To be true, she felt their absence and looked forward to returning to the bosom of family, but this ache for Mr.Mansfield was something altogether different.It was not, she knew, the ache of a lover, for though she had not yet felt that ache herself, she knew enough of it from novels to know that the symptoms were entirely different.But she found that she could no longer think of him merely as a friend or companion.That night she lay awake considering her feelings toward Mr.Mansfield.Certainly she was grateful to him for his kindness and encouragement, his honest criticism and his insightful suggestions—but one might feel the same way toward a schoolmaster, she thought.No, there could be no doubt about the matter: Jane loved Mr.Mansfield—not with the love of a heroine for a hero, but with a love that was slower and gentler, more intellectual than passionate, more.the word avuncular occurred to her but, though she certainly loved her uncles, her relationship with them was nothing like that with Mr.Mansfield.With him there was a meeting of the minds that she supposed was rare, even between husbands and wives.It was as if a part of her mind dwelt in him and a part of his mind dwelt in her, and when she was separated from him a part of herself was missing.She wondered if it was this, more than her busy schedule, that had kept her from returning to Elinor and Marianne.That his letter arrived a few days before Jane’s departure for Hampshire only increased her desire to be home again, and the pain of parting from her brother and his family was eased, if not completely allayed, by the thought of returning not just to Cassandra and her parents, but especially to her frequent intercourse with Mr.Mansfield.Oxfordshire, Present Day“THE GARDEN CLOSES in a few minutes,” said Sophie to Eric, glancing at her watch.“It was nice of you to come.”“I love the way the English tell people to go away,” said Eric with a laugh [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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