Emma and the Vampires

by Wayne Josephson

  He remarked that he had always thought Emma unjust to Jane Fairfax but now had great pleasure in marking an improvement.

  “A very pleasant evening,” began Mr. Knightley, “particularly pleasant. You and Miss Fairfax gave us some very good music. I am sure Miss Fairfax must have found the evening pleasant, Emma. You left nothing undone.”

  “I am happy you approved,” said Emma, smiling, “but I trust I am not often lacking in what is due our guests at Hartfield.”

  “No, my dear,” said Mr. Woodhouse, “that I am sure you are not. There is nobody half so attentive and polite as you are.”

  “Miss Fairfax is, however, reserved,” said Emma.

  “I always told you she was—a little,” replied Mr. Knightley, “but you will soon overcome that part of her reserve which is based in shyness.”

  “You think her shy. I do not see it.”

  “My dear Emma,” said he, moving from his chair into one close by her, “you are not going to tell me, I trust, that you had not a pleasant evening.”

  “Oh, no! I was pleased with my own persistence in asking questions and amused to think how little information I obtained in return.”

  “I am disappointed,” was his only answer.

  “I trust everybody had a pleasant evening,” said Mr. Woodhouse, in his quiet way. “I had. Once, I felt the fire rather too much; but then I moved my chair back a little, and it did not disturb me.”

  “I found the fire rather too hot myself,” said Mr. Knightley, “and rather scary, if truth be told.”

  Mr. Woodhouse nodded in acknowledgement, as if he understood Mr. Knightley’s hidden meaning, which he certainly did not. Then he remarked, “Miss Bates was very chatty and good humoured, as she always is, though she speaks rather too quick. However, she is very agreeable, and Mrs. Bates too, in a different way. I like old friends; and Miss Jane Fairfax is a very pretty and well-behaved young lady indeed. She must have found the evening agreeable, Mr. Knightley, because she had Emma with her.”

  “True, sir; and Emma, because she had Miss Fairfax.”

  Emma saw Mr. Knightley’s anxiety and, wishing to appease him at least for the present, said, with a sincerity which no one could question, “She is an elegant creature that one cannot keep one’s eyes from. I am always watching her to admire; and I do pity her from my heart.”

  Mr. Knightley looked as if he were more gratified than he cared to express. Then he said, “Emma, I have a piece of news for you. You like news—and I heard something on my way here that I think will interest you.”

  “News! Oh, yes! I always like news. What is it? Why do you smile so? Where did you hear it?”

  He was about to speak, when the door was thrown open, and Miss Bates and her niece Jane Fairfax walked into the room. Full of thanks and full of news, Miss Bates knew not which to give quickest. Mr. Knightley soon saw that he had lost his moment.

  “Oh! My dear sir, how are you this morning? My dear Miss Woodhouse—I come quite overpowered. Have you heard the news? Mr. Elton is going to be married.”

  Emma had not had time even to think of Mr. Elton, and she was so completely surprised that she could not avoid a little start, and a little blush, at the news.

  “There is my news—I thought it would interest you,” said Mr. Knightley, with a smile that accented the dark circles under his black eyes. It seems, thought he, that Mr. Elton will finally get the marital sustenance he needs. I should expect to see his eyes soon turn from black to red.

  “But where did you hear it?” cried Miss Bates. “Where could you possibly hear it, Mr. Knightley? For it is not five minutes since I received Mrs. Cole’s note. A Miss Hawkins—that’s all I know. A Miss Hawkins of Bath. But Mr. Knightley, how could you possibly have heard it? For the very moment Mr. Cole told Mrs. Cole of it, she sat down and wrote to me. A Miss Hawkins—”

  “I was with Mr. Cole on business an hour and a half ago. He had just read Elton’s letter as I was shown in and handed it to me directly.”

  “Well! That is quite—I suppose there never was a piece of news more generally interesting. Well, Mr. Knightley, and so you actually saw the letter. Well—”

  “It was short—merely to announce—but cheerful and exulting, of course,” said Mr. Knightley. Here was a sly glance at Emma. “The information was, as you state, that he was going to be married to a Miss Hawkins. By his style, I should imagine it just happened.”

  “Mr. Elton going to be married!” said Emma, as soon as she could speak. “He will have everybody’s wishes for his happiness.”

  “He is very young to settle down,” was Mr. Woodhouse’s observation.

  Not as young as he appears to be, thought Mr. Knightley wryly.

  Mr. Woodhouse continued, “He should not be in a hurry to marry. He seemed to me very well off as he was. We were always glad to see him at Hartfield.”

  “A new neighbour for us all, Miss Woodhouse!” said Miss Bates, joyfully. “My mother is so pleased! She says she cannot bear to have the poor old vicarage without a mistress. This is great news, indeed. Jane, you have never seen Mr. Elton! No wonder that you have such a curiosity to see him. And to touch his hand at communion is, well, such a shock, like a miracle, like the finger of God!”

  Jane’s curiosity did not appear too absorbing. “No—I have never seen Mr. Elton,” she replied.

  “When you have been here a little longer, Miss Fairfax,” said Emma, “you will understand that Mr. Elton is the standard of perfection in Highbury, both in person and mind.”

  “Very true, Miss Woodhouse, so she will,” said Miss Bates. “He is the very best young man. His kind attention to my mother—wanting her to sit in the vicarage pew, that she might hear better. Now, here will be Mr. Elton and Miss Hawkins. I think there are few places with such society as Highbury. I always say, we are quite blessed in our neighbours.”

  “As to who or what Miss Hawkins is,” said Emma, “or how long Mr. Elton has been acquainted with her, nothing I suppose can be known. One feels that it cannot be a very long acquaintance. He has been gone only four weeks.”

  “A Miss Hawkins! Well,” said Miss Bates, “I had always rather fancied it would be some young lady hereabouts. Miss Woodhouse lets me chatter on, so good-humouredly. She knows I would not offend for the world. And how does Miss Smith do? She seems quite recovered now. Have you heard from Mrs. John Knightley lately? Oh! Those dear little children.”

  Miss Bates then turned to her niece. “Jane, do you know I always fancy Mr. Dixon to be like Mr. John Knightley. I mean in person—tall and with that sort of ageless look, a study in black and white with pale blue eyes.”

  “Quite wrong, my dear aunt,” said Jane, appearing uncomfortable. “There is no likeness at all.”

  “Very odd! Mr. Dixon, you say, is not, strictly speaking, handsome?”

  “Handsome! Oh, no! Far from it—certainly plain. I told you he was plain.”

  “My dear, you said that Miss Campbell would not allow him to be plain and that you yourself—”

  “Oh! As for me, my judgement is worth nothing,” interrupted Jane Fairfax. “But I gave what I believed was the general opinion when I called him plain. His eyes are green, his hair is brown, and his skin is tan. Extraordinarily plain.”

  “Well, my dear Jane, I believe we must be running away. The weather does not look well, and grandmamma will be uneasy. Good morning to you all.”

  Emma was alone with her father, while he lamented that young people were in such a hurry to marry—and to marry strangers, too. For Emma, it was a very welcome piece of news, proving that Mr. Elton could not have suffered long from her refusal of his affections.

  But she was sorry for Harriet. Harriet needed to know—and all Emma could hope was that by giving the information herself she would save Harriet from hearing it abruptly from others. It was now about the time that Harriet was likely to call.
But what if she were to meet Miss Bates along the way and learn the news from her!

  ***

  The rain shower was heavy, but short; and it had not been over five minutes when in came Harriet with a heated, agitated look, bursting forth with, “Oh! Miss Woodhouse, what do you think has happened!” which had all the evidence that Harriet knew of Mr. Elton. Emma felt that she could not show greater kindness than in listening; and Harriet ran eagerly through what she had to tell.

  She had set out from Mrs. Goddard’s half an hour ago—she had been afraid it would rain—but she thought she might get to Hartfield first. But it did begin to rain, so she ran as fast as she could and took shelter at Ford’s, the fashionable dress shop in town, when all of a sudden, who should come in but Mr. Robert Martin and his sister Elizabeth!

  “Dear Miss Woodhouse! I thought I should have fainted. I did not know what to do. I was sitting near the door. Elizabeth saw me directly, but Mr. Martin did not—he was busy with the umbrella. I am sure she saw me, but she looked away. They both went to the far end of the shop, and I kept sitting near the door! Oh dear, I was so miserable! I am sure I must have been as white as Mr. Martin’s skin.

  “I could not leave because of the rain; but I did so wish myself anywhere in the world but there. Well, at last, he looked round and saw me. They began whispering to one another. I am sure they were talking about me. Then Elizabeth came up to me and asked me how I did. She tried to be friendly and we shook hands and stood talking for some time. She was sorry we never meet now, which I thought almost too kind!

  “Dear, Miss Woodhouse, I was absolutely miserable! By that time, Mr. Martin was coming up towards me too. He came and spoke, and I answered—and I stood for a minute, feeling dreadfully, and said I must go. And so off I went, and I had not gotten three yards from the door when he came after me, only to say that if I was going to Hartfield, he thought I had much better go round by Mr. Cole’s stables, for I should find the usual way quite flooded by this rain.

  “So I very much thanked him—you know I could not do less—and went on my way. A few minutes later as I walked near Mr. Cole’s stables, by the tall hedge, suddenly and without warning, one of those horrid creatures sprang out at me! Oh dear! I thought it would have been the death of me! His eyes were black and sunken, his claws were bared, and his fangs were so large and pointy and dripping with venom!

  “I touched my neck to show him my silver cross and ward him off, but oh! Miss Woodhouse! It was not there. I had just bathed, you see, and had forgotten to put my necklace back on. So there I stood, frozen with fear, ready to be sacrificed to the wild vampire who would suck my blood dry!

  “And then out of nowhere in a flash of light appeared Mr. Robert Martin! With his great strength, he picked up the creature and flung him over his head into the air and impaled him on the wooden picket fence, killing him instantly. Dear me! I was overcome and still am! I asked Mr. Martin how he came to my rescue, and he said he had followed me to make certain I would be safe!

  “I thanked him of course, as any lady would, and he went back to meet Elizabeth. Oh! Miss Woodhouse, I would have rather done anything than have it happen. And yet, you know, there was a sort of satisfaction in seeing him behave so gallantly towards me—his black eyes so kind. Oh! Miss Woodhouse, do talk to me and make me comfortable again.”

  Very sincerely did Emma wish to do so, but she needed to stop and think. She was not thoroughly comfortable herself. The young man’s conduct and his sister’s seemed to be the result of real feeling. As Harriet described it, their behaviour showed not only wounded affection but genuine tenderness as well. Of course, Mr. Martin must be sorry to lose her—they must be all sorry.

  Emma did try to make Harriet comfortable by considering all that had passed as a mere trifle and quite unworthy of being dwelt on.

  “It might be distressing for the moment,” said Emma, “but you seem to have behaved extremely well; and it is over and may never—can never—occur again, and therefore you need not think about it.”

  Harriet said “very true” and she “would not think about it.” But she could talk of nothing else; and Emma, at last, in order to put the Martins out of her head, was obliged to hurry on with the news about Mr. Elton, which she had meant to give with so much tender caution.

  Emma was rather glad that Harriet had seen the Martins, for it deadened the shock of Mr. Elton’s marriage. And Emma knew that a year might pass before Harriet ever saw the Martins again.

  Chapter 22

  Human nature is such that a young person who either marries or dies is sure to be kindly spoken of. A week had not passed since Miss Hawkins’s name was first mentioned in Highbury before she was thought by everyone to be handsome, elegant, highly accomplished, and perfectly amiable. So when Mr. Elton himself arrived, there was very little more for him to do than mention her name.

  Mr. Elton returned a very happy man. He had gone away rejected and mortified—disappointed in not only losing the right lady but also finding himself matched to a very wrong one. He had gone away deeply offended and came back engaged to another—happy and self-satisfied, eager and busy, caring nothing for Miss Woodhouse, defying Miss Smith, and eagerly awaiting his nuptial night when he would sink his teeth into Miss Hawkins’s neck and turn both his and his wife’s eyes to red.

  The charming Augusta Hawkins, in addition to all the assumed advantages of perfect beauty and merit, was in possession of an independent fortune. Mr. Elton had caught both fortune and affection and was just the happy man he ought to be—talking only of himself and his own concerns and expecting to be congratulated. He now addressed all the young ladies of Highbury with fearless smiles—ladies to whom, a few weeks ago, he would have been more cautiously gallant.

  The wedding was to occur soon and, as the event was to be small and there were few preparations to wait for, there was a general expectation that when Mr. Elton left for Bath again, he would return to Highbury with his new bride.

  During his present short stay Emma barely saw him, but just enough to feel that pride and pretension had taken him over. She was, in fact, beginning very much to wonder why she had ever thought him pleasing at all; and she would have been thankful never to see him again.

  She wished him very well, but he gave her pain. The pain of his continued residence in Highbury, however, must certainly be lessened by his marriage. A Mrs. Elton would almost certainly lead him to begin a life of politeness again.

  Emma spent very little time thinking about the lady Miss Hawkins. No doubt she was good enough for Mr. Elton, was accomplished enough for Highbury, and would look plain next to Harriet.

  As to social connection, it did not appear that she was at all Harriet’s superior. She brought no name, no blood, and no alliance. Miss Hawkins was the younger of the two daughters of a successful Bristol merchant from the lower classes. Her father and mother had died some years ago, and only the elder sister added any status to the family, being very well married to a wealthy gentleman.

  But dear Harriet! Emma had talked her into love, and alas, she was not so easily to be talked out of it. Mr. Elton must indeed be replaced by another—nothing could be clearer. Even a Robert Martin would have been sufficient.

  But nothing else, Emma feared, would cure her. Harriet was one of those girls who, having once fallen in love, would always be in love. And now, poor girl! She was considerably worse from this reappearance of Mr. Elton.

  Harriet was always having a glimpse of him somewhere or other. Emma saw him only once. But two or three times every day Harriet was sure to see him or hear his voice. She was, moreover, perpetually hearing about him, for she was always around those who praised Mr. Elton.

  Harriet’s regrets were being kept alive and her feelings irritated by constant reports of Miss Hawkins’s happiness and by continual observation of how much Mr. Elton was in love!

  ***

  A few days later, Elizabeth
Martin paid a visit to Mrs. Goddard’s school. Harriet had not been at home; but a note had been left for her written in a touching style, inviting Harriet to visit the Martins.

  Harriet continually pondered over what should be done. On the very morning of Mr. Elton’s leaving for Bath again, Emma, to lessen some of Harriet’s distress, judged it best for her friend to return Elizabeth Martin’s visit.

  After much thinking, Emma determined it should be only a formal visit. Emma would take Harriet in the carriage, leave her at Abbey Mill Farm, drive a little farther, then call for her again soon, so as to allow no time for the past to be revisited and to prove to Mr. Martin that the future held no intimacy.

  Emma could think of nothing better and, though there was something in the plan which her heart felt was ungracious, it must be done, or what would become of Harriet?

  Chapter 23

  Harriet had small heart for visiting the Martins. Only half an hour before Emma came to pick her up at Mrs. Goddard’s, she had seen Mr. Elton’s trunk being lifted into the cart to be conveyed to Bath for his wedding.

  Harriet went with Emma, however, her protective silver cross gleaming on her neck and her wooden stake tied to her thigh. When they reached the Martins’ farm, the sight of everything which had given her so much pleasure the summer before, including the cow that Mr. Martin had hoisted above his head, revived a bit of anxiety.

  When they parted, Emma observed Harriet to be looking round with a sort of fearful curiosity, which made Emma decide not to allow the visit to exceed the proposed quarter of an hour.

  ***

  Emma returned punctually to the white gate again after the allotted time, and Harriet walked alone down the gravel path—Elizabeth Martin just appearing at the door. It seemed to Emma that she parted with ceremonial politeness.