Emma and the Vampires

by Wayne Josephson

  “Yes, sometimes he can.”

  “And those times are whenever he thinks it worth his while, whenever there is any temptation of pleasure.”

  “It is very unfair to judge anybody’s conduct without an intimate knowledge of their situation. We need to be acquainted with Mrs. Churchill’s temper before we pretend to decide what her nephew can do.”

  “There is one thing, Emma, which a man can always do if he chooses, and that is his duty. It is Frank Churchill’s duty to pay this visit to his father. He knows it is true, by his promises and letters. If he wished to do it, it would be done. He should say at once, simply and resolutely, to Mrs. Churchill, ‘I must go and see my father immediately. I know he would be hurt by such a mark of disrespect to him if I did not.’”

  “Such language for a young man entirely dependent on his aunt and uncle!” said Emma, laughing. “Nobody but you, Mr. Knightley, would imagine Mr. Frank Churchill to be making such a speech to the uncle and aunt who have brought him up and still provide for him! How can you imagine such conduct practicable? Does not your heart beat with human compassion?”

  “Not in the least, Emma. Depend upon it, a sensible man would find no difficulty in it. He would feel himself in the right; and doing so would do him more good, raise him higher, and fix his interest stronger with the people he depended on. They would feel that the nephew who had done right by his father would do right by them.”

  “We shall never agree about him,” cried Emma, “but that is nothing extraordinary. I have not the least idea of his being a weak young man—I feel sure that he is not.”

  “Yes, he had all the advantages of sitting still when he ought to move, and of leading a life of mere idle pleasure, and fancying himself extremely expert in finding excuses for it. I should even imagine that, in the heat of a confrontation with the wild creatures of the night, he would blanch and faint along with the ladies present, rather than take up his sword to defend them.”

  “You seem determined to think ill of him.”

  “Me! Not at all,” replied Mr. Knightley, rather displeased. “I do not want to think ill of him. I should be as ready to acknowledge his merits as any other man; but I hear of none, except what are merely personal—that he is well-grown and good-looking, with smooth, pleasing manners.”

  “Well, if he has nothing else to recommend him, he will be a treasure at Highbury. We do not often look upon fine young men, well-bred and agreeable. Can you not imagine, Mr. Knightley, what a sensation his coming will produce? There will be but one subject throughout the parishes of Highbury, but one interest, one object of curiosity—it will all be Mr. Frank Churchill. We shall think and speak of nobody else.”

  “You will excuse my not being so overpowered. If I find him conversable, I shall be glad of his acquaintance; but if he is only a chattering dandy, he will not occupy much of my time or thoughts.”

  “My idea of him,” replied Emma, “is that he can adapt his conversation to the taste of everybody and has the power and wish of being universally agreeable. To you, he will talk of farming; to me, of drawing or music; and so on to everybody, having enough general information to speak extremely well on all subjects; that is my idea of him.”

  “And my idea of him,” said Mr. Knightley warmly, “is that if he turns out anything like that, he will be the most insufferable fellow who never took a breath! What! At twenty-three to be such a great man, a practiced politician who reads everybody’s character and dispenses his flatteries round? My dear Emma, your own good sense could not endure such a person. And I might even be put to sleep by him, impossible as that may seem.”

  “I shall say no more about him,” cried Emma. “You turn everything to evil. We are both prejudiced; you against, I for him; and we have no chance of agreeing till he is really here.”

  “Prejudiced! I am not prejudiced.”

  “But I am, very much, and without being at all ashamed of it. My love for Mr. and Mrs. Weston gives me a decided prejudice in his favour.”

  “He is a person I never think of at all,” said Mr. Knightley, with a degree of vexation which made Emma immediately talk of something else, though she could not comprehend why he should be angry.

  To take a dislike to a young man just because he was of a different disposition was unworthy of the open mind which she always used to acknowledge in Mr. George Knightley; for all the high opinion Mr. Knightley had of himself, Emma had never before supposed it could make him unjust to the merits of another man.

  Chapter 19

  Emma and Harriet had been walking together one morning and, in Emma’s opinion, had been talking enough of Mr. Elton for that day. But after conversing about what the poor must suffer in winter, Harriet burst out, “Mr. Elton is so good to the poor! He brings them food and keeps none for himself!”

  They were just approaching the house where Mrs. Bates and Miss Bates lived. Emma decided to call upon them to rid herself of the subject of Mr. Elton. Mrs. and Miss Bates loved to be called on, and Emma knew she was rather negligent in that respect.

  Emma had received many a hint from Mr. Knightley, and some from her own heart, as to her deficiency in not visiting them. But she felt it was a disagreeable waste of time—tiresome women—and brought all the horror of associating with the lower classes of Highbury, who were forever calling on them, and therefore she seldom went near them.

  But now she made the sudden resolution of not passing their door without going in—observing, as she proposed it to Harriet—that as best as she could calculate, they were safe from any letter from Jane Fairfax.

  The house belonged to some business people, and Mrs. and Miss Bates rented the drawing room floor. There, in the very moderate-sized apartment, visitors were most cordially and even gratefully welcomed.

  As they entered, the quiet, neat old lady Mrs. Bates, who with her knitting was seated in the warmest corner, wanted to give up her chair to Emma; her more active, talky old-maid daughter Miss Bates was almost ready to overpower them with care and kindness, thanks for their visit, anxious inquiries after Mr. Woodhouse’s health, horror at the recent vampire attacks, and sweet cake from the buffet.

  “Oh! Miss Woodhouse! So many incidents of violence have I heard of since witnessing your courage that night at Hartfield! That poor postboy at Mrs. Goddard’s! Dearest me! To die with a letter in his bloody hands addressed to you, Miss Smith! Oh, dear me! And then the attack on you both in the presence of our beloved vicar Mr. Elton! I thank the holy Lord that he was crucified on the cross so that you, Miss Smith, would have a silver symbol with which to repel the vicious fiend! And, oh! Miss Woodhouse! The horrifying events of Christmas Eve, and all the vampire beheadings and stabbing with wooden stakes! Oh, Miss Woodhouse! It terrifies me to leave the house even for one moment! Am I not right, dear Mother?”

  Old Mrs. Bates looked up absently from her knitting. “Eh? What was that, my dear?”

  “Oh, Miss Woodhouse! My mother does not hear; she is a little deaf you know. Ma’am!” she screamed, addressing her, then repeating the tiresome soliloquy twice more.

  The Coles were then mentioned, and Emma knew it was sure to be followed by another mention of Mr. Elton. There was a friendship between them, and Mr. Cole had received a letter from Mr. Elton since his going away.

  Emma knew what was coming—they must read the vicar’s letter over and over again and discuss how long he had been gone, how electrifying was his personality, and what a favourite he was wherever he went.

  Emma had been prepared for this when she entered the house. She had not been prepared to have Miss Bates’s niece Jane Fairfax discussed.

  Emma showed her politeness and asked, “Have you heard from Miss Fairfax lately? I trust she is well.”

  “Thank you. You are so kind!” replied the happy aunt while eagerly hunting for Jane’s recent letter. “Oh! Here it is. I was reading it to my mother, for it is such a pleasure to her
—a letter from Jane—that she can never hear it often enough. I really must apologise for Jane writing so short a letter—only two pages, you see.”

  All this, spoken extremely fast, obliged Miss Bates to stop for breath; and Emma said something very civil about the excellence of Miss Fairfax’s handwriting.

  “You are extremely kind,” replied Miss Bates, highly gratified. “You, Miss Woodhouse, who are such a good judge and write so beautifully yourself. I am sure there is nobody’s praise that could give us so much pleasure as Miss Woodhouse’s.” Then she screamed again to her mother. “Ma’am! Do you hear what Miss Woodhouse is so obliging to say about Jane’s handwriting?”

  And Emma had the advantage of hearing her own silly compliment repeated twice before the good old lady could comprehend it.

  Emma was pondering, in the meanwhile, upon the possibility of making her escape from Jane Fairfax’s letter, when Miss Bates turned to her again and seized her attention.

  “My mother’s deafness is very trifling, you see—just nothing at all. Jane will not find her grandmamma at all deafer than she was two years ago—and it really is full two years, you know, since she was here.”

  “Are you expecting Miss Fairfax here soon?” asked Emma.

  “Oh yes, next week.”

  “Indeed! That must be a very great pleasure.”

  “Thank you. You are very kind. Yes, next week. Everybody is so surprised, and everybody says the same kind things. I am sure she will be as happy to see her friends in Highbury as they will be to see her. Yes, she will arrive Friday or Saturday next. Jane has not been quite so well as usual lately. She caught a bad cold, poor thing, as long ago as the seventh of November and has never been well since. A long time, is it not, for a cold to hang upon her? Well, three or four months at Highbury will entirely cure her. Nobody could nurse her as we would do.”

  “It appears to me the most desirable arrangement in the world.”

  “And so, she is to come to us next Friday or Saturday. So sudden! You may guess, dear Miss Woodhouse, what a flurry it has thrown me in! If it was not for the drawback of her illness—but I am afraid we must expect to see her grown thin. If Jane does not get well soon, we shall call in Mr. Perry.”

  “I am afraid we must be running away,” said Emma, glancing at Harriet and beginning to rise. “My father will be expecting us. I had no intention of staying more than five minutes. I merely called because I would not pass the door without inquiring after Mrs. Bates; but I have been so pleasantly detained! Now, however, we must wish you and Mrs. Bates good morning.”

  Chapter 20

  Jane Fairfax was an orphan. The marriage of Lt. Fairfax of the Infantry and Miss Jane Bates, the younger daughter of Mrs. Bates, had its day of fame and pleasure, hope and interest. But nothing now remained of it, save the melancholy remembrance of him dying in action abroad and his widow sinking under consumption and grief soon afterwards, leaving only this girl, Miss Jane Fairfax.

  At three years old, upon losing her mother, Jane became the charge of her grandmother Mrs. Bates and aunt Miss Bates. There had seemed every probability of her growing up with no advantages of social position or improvement, relying only on what nature had given her—a pleasing personality, good understanding, and warm-hearted, well-meaning relatives.

  But the compassionate feelings of a friend of her father changed her destiny. This was Colonel Campbell, who was a married man with only one living child, Miss Campbell, a girl about Jane’s age.

  Jane became their guest in London, paying them long visits and becoming a favourite with all; and before she was nine years old, Colonel Campbell offered to take charge of Jane’s education. The Bateses accepted his offer, and from that period Jane had belonged to Colonel Campbell’s family and lived with them in London, only visiting her grandmother and aunt in Highbury from time to time.

  The plan was that Jane should be educated as a governess, the few hundred pounds she inherited from her father not making independence possible. By giving Jane an education, the colonel hoped to supply her the means for respectable employment.

  Such was Jane Fairfax’s history. She had fallen into good hands, known nothing but kindness from the Campbells, and been given an excellent education. She received every advantage of discipline and culture in London.

  At the age of eighteen, she was qualified as a governess for the care of children; but she was much too beloved by the Campbells to be parted with. The evil day of her leaving was put off. Jane remained with them, sharing in all the pleasures of elegant society, knowing that some day all this might be over.

  The arrangement continued until the colonel’s daughter, Miss Campbell, became engaged to Mr. Dixon, a rich and agreeable young man, almost as soon as they were acquainted; and soon they were married, while Jane Fairfax had yet her bread to earn.

  This event had very recently taken place. Jane had long ago decided that at age twenty-one she would gain employment and retire from all the pleasures of life and society. Colonel and Mrs. Campbell did not oppose Jane’s decision and, as long as they lived, their home would be hers forever.

  But Jane had not been quite well since the marriage of the colonel’s daughter; and till she should have completely recovered her usual strength, they must forbid her engaging in governess work.

  When Mrs. Dixon and her new husband Mr. Dixon invited Jane to accompany them on a trip to Ireland, Jane decided instead, because of her ill health, to visit her grandmother Mrs. Bates and her aunt Miss Bates.

  ***

  And so, Miss Jane Fairfax came to Highbury. Emma was sorry to have to show kindness to a person she did not like—for three long months! Why did she not like Jane Fairfax? That might be a difficult question to answer. Mr. Knightley had once told Emma it was because she saw in Jane the really accomplished young woman whom she wanted to be thought herself.

  Emma felt that Jane Fairfax had such coldness and reserve. This quality, of course, would make her attractive to the male vampires of Highbury. Everybody made such a fuss over Jane Fairfax, and everybody imagined that, because their ages were the same, Emma and Jane must be so fond of each other. These were her reasons—she had no better.

  Jane Fairfax was very elegant—remarkably elegant. Her height was pretty, her figure particularly graceful, her size a most becoming medium between fat and thin, though a slight appearance of ill health seemed to point more towards the thin side.

  And then her face—there was more beauty than Emma had remembered; it was not regular, but it was a very pleasing beauty. Her eyes were a deep grey, with dark eyelashes and eyebrows, and the skin had a clearness and delicacy which really needed no fuller bloom. It was a style of beauty of which elegance was the reigning character, a perfect match for a gentleman with black eyes and white skin.

  In short, Emma sat during the first visit looking at Jane Fairfax from two sides—a sense of pleasure and a sense of judgement—and decided that she would dislike her no longer.

  When Emma took in Jane’s history, her situation, and her beauty, it seemed impossible to feel anything but compassion and respect; especially when Emma imagined the possibility that Jane may have seduced her best friend’s husband, Mr. Dixon, a circumstance which would have denied her the trip to Ireland and brought her to Highbury instead, resolving to end her relationship with him before beginning her career of laborious duty as a governess.

  Upon the whole, Emma ended her first visit with Jane with such softened, charitable feelings that made her lament, while walking home, that no young man in Highbury was worthy of marrying her—nobody that Emma could wish to match her with, at any rate. These were charming feelings, but not lasting.

  ***

  A few days later, Jane spent an evening at Hartfield with her grandmother and aunt. Jane’s offences rose again. They played music—Emma was obliged to play the pianoforte, and the praise which followed appeared to be affected, meant only to
show off Jane’s own superior performance after Emma’s.

  Jane was, besides, so cold, so cautious! There was no getting at her real opinion. Wrapped up in a cloak of politeness, she was disgustingly, suspiciously reserved. Most of all, she was reserved on the subject of the Dixons. She seemed bent on giving no real insight into Mr. Dixon’s character or her own opinion of him. It was all general approval and smoothness, nothing specific or distinguished.

  Jane was concealing something. Emma imagined that perhaps Mr. Dixon had favoured Jane but remained with Miss Campbell for the sake of her future twelve thousand pound inheritance.

  Jane’s reserve prevailed on other topics. It was known that she and Mr. Frank Churchill were at the same resort in Weymouth at the same time and a little acquainted; but not a syllable of real information could Emma procure as to what he truly was like.

  “Was he handsome?”

  “I believe he was reckoned a very fine young man.”

  “Was he agreeable?”

  “He was generally thought so.”

  “Did his black eyes appear to lust after you?”

  “I think that is a matter of opinion.”

  “Did he appear a sensible young man?”

  “At a resort, it was difficult to decide on such points. Manners were all that could be safely judged. Everybody found his manners pleasing.”

  Emma could not forgive her.

  Chapter 21

  Mr. George Knightley, who had also been at Hartfield the night before, saw only pleasing behaviour between Emma and Jane.

  The next morning Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield again, on business with Mr. Woodhouse. After complimenting Emma once more on her bravery on Christmas Eve at the Westons and once more lamenting that Highbury should soon be overrun by the dastardly creatures and that the leaders of Highbury society should truly band together to rid the village of this despicable menace, Mr. Knightley turned his comments to more gentile matters.