She had some satisfaction in finding that he was really going out of
Bath the next morning, going early, and that he would be gone the
greater part of two days. He was invited again to Camden Place the
very evening of his return; but from Thursday to Saturday evening his
absence was certain. It was bad enough that a Mrs Clay should be
always before her; but that a deeper hypocrite should be added to their
party, seemed the destruction of everything like peace and comfort. It
was so humiliating to reflect on the constant deception practised on
her father and Elizabeth; to consider the various sources of
mortification preparing for them! Mrs Clay's selfishness was not so
complicate nor so revolting as his; and Anne would have compounded for
the marriage at once, with all its evils, to be clear of Mr Elliot's
subtleties in endeavouring to prevent it.
On Friday morning she meant to go very early to Lady Russell, and
accomplish the necessary communication; and she would have gone
directly after breakfast, but that Mrs Clay was also going out on some
obliging purpose of saving her sister trouble, which determined her to
wait till she might be safe from such a companion. She saw Mrs Clay
fairly off, therefore, before she began to talk of spending the morning
in Rivers Street.
"Very well," said Elizabeth, "I have nothing to send but my love. Oh!
you may as well take back that tiresome book she would lend me, and
pretend I have read it through. I really cannot be plaguing myself for
ever with all the new poems and states of the nation that come out.
Lady Russell quite bores one with her new publications. You need not
tell her so, but I thought her dress hideous the other night. I used
to think she had some taste in dress, but I was ashamed of her at the
concert. Something so formal and arrange in her air! and she sits so
upright! My best love, of course."
"And mine," added Sir Walter. "Kindest regards. And you may say, that
I mean to call upon her soon. Make a civil message; but I shall only
leave my card. Morning visits are never fair by women at her time of
life, who make themselves up so little. If she would only wear rouge
she would not be afraid of being seen; but last time I called, I
observed the blinds were let down immediately."
While her father spoke, there was a knock at the door. Who could it
be? Anne, remembering the preconcerted visits, at all hours, of Mr
Elliot, would have expected him, but for his known engagement seven
miles off. After the usual period of suspense, the usual sounds of
approach were heard, and "Mr and Mrs Charles Musgrove" were ushered
into the room.