Chapter Text
Mr Walter Elliot, of Wellington, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but Facebook. There he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one. He scrolled through the feeds of his friends and family, keeping an eye on who was spending money and who was making it, who was getting married and what were they naming their babies.
And there, if every other site were powerless, he could read his own profile with an interest which never failed. This was the page at which his browser was always opened, and one which every selfie was posted. Vanity was the beginning and the end of Walter Elliot's character; vanity of person and of situation. He had been handsome in his youth; and at fifty-four, was still a fine man. Few women could think of his appearance more than he did. He had also inherited a large sum of wealth, and had been able to live off the earnings of his investments most of his life.
To his good looks and his money he owed a wife of superior character to any thing deserved by his own. Mrs Elliot had been an excellent woman, sensible and amiable. Apart from the youthful infatuation which made her Mrs Elliot, her judgement was sound. She had softened his failings, increased the value of his portfolio, and promoted his respectability for seventeen years. Though not the happiest being in the world herself, she had found enough in her job, her friends and her children to attach her to life. It was no matter of indifference to her when she died of cancer. Two girls, only sixteen and fourteen, were left under the authority and guidance of a conceited and silly father. She had, however, one intimate friend, a sensible, deserving woman, who had settled close by to the family. Alison Russell did her best to fill her dear friend's empty shoes and provide kindness and advice to the two teenage girls.
Walter never remarried, not to Alison Russell, or any other women. He prided himself on remaining single for his dear daughters' sake. Elizabeth was good looking and like himself. She had him twisted around her finger and they got along with each other quite well. Anne had an elegance of mind and sweetness of character which placed her high with anyone of real understanding. But she was nobody to either father or sister, her words had no weight; she was only Anne. To Alison, indeed, she was a most dear and valued god-daughter, favourite and friend. Alison loved them both; but it was in Anne that she could fancy an old friend alive again.
At twenty Anne Elliot had been a pretty girl, but her bloom had vanished early. Her father had never found much to admire in her, now he found none. He had not much hope of her coming to much. Elizabeth was the one who would become successful. Elizabeth was one of those rare women who were better looking at twenty-nine than ten years earlier. But Elizabeth was not quite as content as her father. For thirteen years she had been living on her father's wealth, throwing parties for her friends, traveling abroad, and taking pleasure where she could.
She had the remembrance of all this, but she had the consciousness of being almost thirty to give her some regrets and apprehensions. She felt the approach of the years of danger, and would rejoice to be certain of being with a rich man of her own within the next year or two. Then she might again enjoy scrolling through Facebook. Noticing the latest engagement and seeing pages of baby pictures brought her no pleasure.
She also had an ex whom she had trouble resisting the urge to Facebook stalk. Elliot William's father had been a business partner of Walter's and named Elliot after him. She had, while a young girl meant to marry him; and her father had always meant that she should. They had attended university together, where he studied law, and Elizabeth French. For a time they had dated. Elizabeth found him extremely agreeable and fancied herself in love. But when he finished his studies he left for London, and the next they heard he had married.
Walter had resented it. As Elliot's god-father he felt he ought to have been consulted about the marriage. His disapproval was little regarded. Elliot had attempted no apology, and as Walter considered him unworthy of it, all acquaintance between them had ceased.
This awkward history of Elliot Williams was still felt with anger by Elizabeth. She had liked the man for himself as well as his wealth. There was no man from Cape Reinga to Bluff whom her feelings could have so willingly acknowledged as an equal. Yet so miserable had he conducted himself, though he was now divorced, she could not admit him to be worth thinking of again. He could be forgiven, perhaps, if not for the way he had slandered the family, several times, on Facebook. This could not be pardoned.
Such were the concerns of Elizabeth Elliot. But now another worry was added to these. Her father was in financial difficulty. Much of his wealth was lost during the 2008 financial crisis, and his property remortgaged. Interest rates were rising and now their income no longer met their expenses. He was not only growing dreadfully in debt, he was hearing of it so often, that it became vain to attempt concealing it longer, even partially, from his daughter. He had given her some hints of it last year, "Can we make some savings? Is there any area in which we can make savings?" Elizabeth, to her justice, had cut off some unnecessary expenses, and refrained from buying a new lounge-suite. But these measures were insufficient for the real extent of the problem, the whole of which Walter confessed to her soon afterwards. Neither of them knew how to lessen their expenses without compromising their dignity or diminishing their comforts.
They asked two friends, Mr Shepherd and Alison Russells, for advice. Both father and daughter seemed to expect some miracle to remove their debts without involving any loss of any indulgence or pride.