Chapter 25
Emma’s very good opinion of Frank Churchill was a little shaken the following day by hearing that he was gone off to London merely to have his hair cut. There was certainly no harm in his travelling sixteen miles twice over on such an errand; but there was an air of foppery and nonsense in it which she could not approve.
It was not in accordance with the rationality, moderation, or unselfish warmth of heart which she had discerned in him yesterday. Rather, it spoke of vanity, extravagance, love of change, and restlessness.
Emma was blithely unaware, however, that as Frank Churchill’s vampire hair never grew, he was merely having its style updated to the more modern custom of the present century.
But, with the exception of this little blot, Emma found that Mr. Churchill’s visit thus far had given Mrs. Weston only good ideas of him. Mrs. Weston was very ready to say how attentive and pleasant a companion he made himself and how much she liked his disposition. He appeared to have a very open mind, certainly a very cheerful and lively one; she could observe nothing wrong in his ideas, a great deal decidedly right.
Frank spoke of his uncle Mr. Churchill with warm regard, and he acknowledged his aunt Mrs. Churchill’s kindness with gratitude, speaking of her with respect. This was all very promising, and Emma felt there was nothing to deem him unworthy of the honour of being very nearly in love with her, save only her own resolution of never marrying.
Mr. Weston told Emma that Frank admired her extremely—thought her very beautiful, especially her long, fair neck, and very charming; and with so much to be said for him, Emma found she must not judge him harshly.
There was one person among Frank’s new acquaintances not so favourably inclined—Mr. Knightley. While visiting at Hartfield, he was told of Frank’s haircut in London. Mr. Knightley was silent a moment, but Emma heard him almost immediately afterwards say to himself, “Hum! Just the trifling, silly fellow I took him for. A man does not need a haircut more than every hundred years.”
Emma had half a mind to object but decided to let it pass, since she had no decent understanding of what he meant.
***
Mr. and Mrs. Weston’s visit at Hartfield that morning gave Emma the opportunity to ask their advice about a dinner invitation of great importance. It seemed that the Coles had been settled some years in Highbury and were a very good sort of people, friendly and unpretentious. But on the other hand, they were of low class, engaged in trade, and only moderately genteel.
On their first coming to Highbury, they had lived quietly, in proportion to their income, keeping much to themselves. But the past year or two had brought the Coles a considerable increase in wealth. They bought a larger house, added servants, and soon were second only to the Woodhouses of Hartfield in grandeur.
The Coles’ desire to be accepted into proper society prepared everybody for invitations to their dinner parties. Emma could hardly suppose they would presume to invite the best families—Mr. Knightley, the Woodhouses, or the Westons.
The Coles were very respectable in their way, but they ought to be taught that it was not for them to decide when the superior families would acknowledge them. This lesson Emma would teach them by refusing their invitation when it arrived.
But when invitations came for Mr. Knightley and the Westons, none had come for herself and her father. Emma wanted to have the power of refusal. But the idea that the party would consist of those people whose society was dearest to her caused Emma to think that she might be tempted to accept after all.
Harriet was to be there and the Bateses. And Frank Churchill would most earnestly lament her absence—he might not sleep for many nights from despondency.
Nonetheless, this very invitation for Emma and her father finally arrived while the Westons were visiting Hartfield, which made their presence so helpful.
Though Emma’s first remark upon reading it was that “of course it must be declined,” she very soon proceeded to ask the Westons what they advised her to do.
She admitted that she was not completely sure of declining. The invitation was so proper and considerate of her father: “We would have invited you earlier, but we had been waiting for the arrival of a folding screen from London, which we hoped might keep Mr. Woodhouse from any draught of air, and therefore encourage him to accept our invitation.”
As for his going, Emma did not wish him to think it possible—the hours would be too late and the guests too numerous. He was soon pretty well resigned.
“I am not fond of dinner parties,” said he to the Westons. “I never was. No more is Emma. Especially when uninvited guests suddenly leap out of the privet. Late hours do not agree with us. However, as the Coles are so very desirous to have dear Emma dine with them and as you will both be there and Mr. Knightley too, to take care of her, I do not wish to prevent it.
“Emma, we must write an answer to Mrs. Cole. You will make my excuses, my dear, as civilly as possible. You will say that I am quite an invalid and go nowhere and therefore must decline their obliging invitation, beginning with my compliments, of course. Emma dear, you must come home at an early hour. You will not like staying late. You will get very tired when tea is over.”
“But my dear sir,” cried Mr. Weston, “if Emma leaves early, it will be breaking up the party.”
“And no great harm if it does,” said Mr. Woodhouse. “The sooner every party breaks up, the better.”
“But you do not consider how it may appear to the Coles. Emma’s going away directly after tea might be giving offence. They are good-natured people, and Miss Woodhouse’s hurrying away would be more hurtful than any other person’s in the room. You would not wish to disappoint and mortify the Coles, I am sure, sir.”
“No, Mr. Weston,” relented Mr. Woodhouse, “I should be extremely sorry to be giving them any pain. I know what worthy people they are. My dear Emma, you will not consider being tired. You will be perfectly safe among your friends.”
“Oh yes, Papa. I have no fears at all for myself, and I should have no scruples of staying as late as Mrs. Weston, but on your account. I am only afraid of your sitting up for me instead of going to bed at your usual time. You must promise me not to sit up.”
He did, on the condition that if she came home cold, she would be sure to warm herself thoroughly; if hungry, that she would take something to eat; that her own maid should sit up for her; and that the butler should see that everything was safe in the house, as usual, and that an ample supply of sabres and wooden stakes be readily at hand.
Chapter 26
Frank Churchill returned from London with his new hairstyle and laughed at himself with a very good grace but without seeming at all ashamed of what he had done. He was quite as undaunted and lively as ever. His black hair was no shorter, but appeared somewhat different nonetheless and complemented his black eyes and the purple circles against his alabaster skin.
After seeing him, Emma thus moralised to herself, “Certainly silly things cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people. It depends upon the character of those who handle it.”
With Tuesday came the agreeable prospect of seeing Mr. Frank Churchill again at the Coles’ dinner, and for a longer time than before. Emma would be able to judge the meaning of his behaviour towards her and observe the other dinner guests seeing Emma and Frank together for the first time.
Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Goddard arrived at Hartfield to keep Mr. Woodhouse company at home during the party. Emma had prepared a full dinner for them and, before she left the house, paid her respects by helping them to large slices of cake and full glasses of wine.
***
Arriving at the Coles’ door, Emma was received with cordial respect and given all the attention she could wish for. When the Westons arrived with Frank Churchill, the kindest looks of love and admiration were for Emma, from both husband and wife. Frank approached her with a cheerful eagerness which marked he
r as special, and at dinner she found herself seated next to him.
The party was rather large, as it included one other family, the Coxes, he being the lawyer of Highbury. The less worthy females were to come later in the evening, along with Miss Bates, Miss Fairfax, and Miss Harriet Smith.
At dinner, Emma surrendered all her attention to the pleasantness of Frank Churchill. They were seated away from the fireplace at Frank’s insistence. Emma attributed his lack of appetite to his being overcome by her ravishing beauty.
The first time Emma’s attention was diverted from Mr. Churchill was upon hearing the name of Jane Fairfax. Mrs. Cole seemed to be relating a story that appeared very interesting.
Emma listened and found it well worth listening to. Mrs. Cole said that she had visited Miss Bates, and as soon as she entered the room had been struck by the sight of a pianoforte—a very elegant-looking instrument—which had arrived the day before, entirely unexpected.
Jane Fairfax herself was quite at a loss, quite bewildered to think who could possibly have ordered it. Mrs. Cole and Miss Bates were perfectly satisfied that it could be from only one person—Colonel Campbell.
But Jane, it seems, recently had a letter from the Campbells, and not a word was mentioned about a pianoforte. Many at the table agreed with Mrs. Cole, that it must have come from Colonel Campbell. But Emma had her own opinion about it.
“I declare,” said Mrs. Cole, “it has always quite hurt me that Jane Fairfax, who plays so delightfully, should not have her own pianoforte, and now she does. I really was ashamed to look at our new grand pianoforte in the drawing room, while I do not know one note from another. We are in great hopes that Miss Woodhouse may be prevailed upon to try it this evening.”
Emma nodded to Mrs. Cole that she would, then turned back to Frank Churchill.
“Why do you smile?” said she.
“Nay, why do you?”
“Me! I suppose I smile for pleasure at Colonel Campbell’s generosity. It is a handsome present.”
“Very,” said he.
“Your expression says that your thoughts on this subject are very much like mine.”
“I probably suspect whatever you suspect—if Colonel Campbell is not the person, then who can it be?”
“What do you say to Miss Campbell?” asked Emma.
“Miss Campbell! Very true. It would be so like her to send it.”
“Then you must also suspect her new husband Mr. Dixon.”
“Mr. Dixon. Yes, we were speaking the other day, you know, of his being so warm an admirer of her performance.”
“Yes, and I cannot help suspecting that he had the misfortune to fall in love with Miss Fairfax.”
“And upon my word,” returned Frank Churchill, “that has an air of great probability, considering Mr. Dixon’s preference of Jane’s music to Miss Campbell’s.”
“And Mr. Dixon saved Jane’s life,” said Emma. “Did you ever hear of that? A boating party. And by some accident Jane was falling overboard. He caught her.”
“Yes, he did. I was there—one of the party.”
“Were you really? Then this tells me quite enough. Depend upon it, we shall soon hear that it is a present from Mr. and Mrs. Dixon.”
There was no occasion to press the matter further. The rest of the dinner passed, with much of the food uneaten, so many gentlemen vampires being present, then the dessert followed and a few clever things said.
***
The ladies had not been long in the drawing room before the other ladies arrived. Emma watched the entrée of her own particular little friend Harriet. There she sat—and who would have guessed how many tears she had lately been shedding over Mr. Elton? To be nicely dressed, to sit and smile and look pretty was enough for the happiness of the present hour.
Jane Fairfax did look and move superiorly, but Emma did not approach her. She did not wish to speak of the pianoforte—she felt too involved in the secret. But the subject was immediately mentioned by others, and Emma saw the blush of guilt which accompanied the name of “my excellent friend Colonel Campbell.”
They were soon joined by some of the gentlemen. Frank Churchill walked in, the first and the handsomest, and sat down next to Emma. She sensed what everybody else must be thinking—that she was the object of Mr. Churchill’s attention.
She introduced him to her friend Miss Smith and, at convenient moments afterwards, heard what each thought of the other.
“I have never seen so lovely and plump a face,” said he.
“I think he looks a little like Mr. Elton, with those big dark eyes,” said she.
Emma restrained her indignation at Harriet’s reference to Mr. Elton and turned away from her in silence.
Frank Churchill then spoke handsomely of Highbury again. Emma questioned him as to the society at Enscombe, and she discerned there was very little going on. The best that could be said was that no vampire menace existed there.
Frank thought to himself that Enscombe was not satisfactory and that Highbury might reasonably please a young vampire such as himself, with its large selection of fine young ladies for sustenance.
“I have made a most wretched discovery,” said he, after a short pause. “I have been here a week tomorrow—half my time. I never knew days to fly so fast. A week tomorrow! And I have hardly begun to enjoy myself, having just gotten acquainted with Mrs. Weston and others!”
The rest of the gentlemen being now in the room, Emma noticed how much they resembled one another, with the same black hair and pale skin, the only exception being the eyes, some black and some pale blue. Mr. Knightley appeared especially gallant, for now he wore his sabre at his side whenever he ventured away from Donwell Abbey.
Emma found herself obliged to turn from Frank for a few minutes while Mr. Cole spoke to her. When Mr. Cole had moved away, she saw Frank Churchill looking intently across the room at Miss Fairfax.
“What is the matter?” asked Emma.
He was startled. “I believe I have been very rude to stare at Miss Fairfax,” he replied. “But really she has done her hair in so odd a way that I cannot keep my eyes from her. Those curls! I must go and ask her whether it is an Irish fashion. Shall I? Yes, I will, and you will see how she takes it, whether she blushes.”
He was gone in a blur, and Emma next saw him standing before Miss Fairfax and talking to her. But since he stood exactly in front of her, Emma could see absolutely nothing. Before he could return to his chair, it was taken by Mrs. Weston.
“My dear Emma,” said she, “do you know how Miss Bates and her niece Jane Fairfax came here tonight?”
“They were invited, were they not?”
“Oh, yes! But the way they arrived?”
“They walked, I conclude. How else could they come?”
“Well, a little while ago it occurred to me how very sad it would be to have Jane Fairfax walking home again, late at night, as cold as the nights are now, and with so much danger lurking about. So I approached her, to offer her our carriage before it took us home. She was grateful, you may be sure, but she said Mr. Knightley’s carriage had brought them and was to take them home again. I was quite surprised.”
“I know of no man more likely than Mr. Knightley to do such a considerate sort of thing.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Weston, smiling, “you give him credit for more simple benevolence than I, for a suspicion darted into my head. The more I think of it, the more probable it appears. I have made a match between Mr. Knightley and Jane Fairfax. What do you say to it?”
“Mr. Knightley and Jane Fairfax!” exclaimed Emma. “Dear Mrs. Weston, how could you think of such a thing? Mr. Knightley must not marry! You would not have my little nephew Henry cut out as the Donwell Abbey heir! Oh no, no, Henry must have Donwell. I cannot at all consent to Mr. Knightley’s marrying, and I am amazed that you should think of such a thing.”
&n
bsp; “My dear Emma, I have only told you what led me to think of it. I do not want the match—I do not want to injure dear little Henry. But if Mr. Knightley really wished to marry, you would not have him refrain on Henry’s account—a boy of six years old who knows nothing of the matter?”
“Yes, I would! I could not bear to have Henry cut out. Mr. Knightley marry! No, I have never had such an idea, and I cannot adopt it now. And Jane Fairfax, too, of all women! The only thing they have in common is their pale white skin!”
“Well, she has always been a favourite with him, as you very well know.”
“But the imprudence of such a match!”
“I am not speaking of its prudence—merely its probability.”
“I see no probability in it, unless you have any better foundation than what you mention. My dear Mrs. Weston, do not take to matchmaking—you do it very ill.”
“But except for inequality of fortune and perhaps a little disparity of age, I can see nothing unsuitable.”
“But Mr. Knightley does not want to marry. Why should he marry? He is as happy as possible by himself—with his farm, and his library, all the parish to manage, and taking his brother’s children hunting in the woods.”
“My dear Emma, if he really loves Jane Fairfax—”
“Nonsense! He does not care about Jane Fairfax. It would be a very shameful and degrading marriage. How would he bear to have Miss Bates belonging to him? To have her haunting the Abbey and thanking him all day long for his great kindness in marrying Jane? And then to fly off, through half a sentence, about her mother’s old petticoat. ‘Not that it was such a very old petticoat either—for still it would last a great while.’”
Emma and the Vampires Page 13