Emma and the Vampires

by Wayne Josephson

  This was too loud a call for a compliment to be passed by, and Mr. Weston with very good grace immediately exclaimed, “My dear madam! Not heard of you! I believe Mrs. Weston’s letters lately have been full of very little else than Mrs. Elton.”

  He had done his duty and could return to discussing his son. “When Frank left us,” continued he, “it was quite uncertain when we might see him again, which makes this day’s news doubly welcome.”

  Mrs. Elton began to speak but was stopped by a slight fit of warmth and moved farther away from the fireplace. Mr. Weston instantly seized upon the opportunity to continue.

  “I trust you will be pleased with my son; he is generally thought a fine young man, but do not expect a prodigy. Mrs. Weston’s partiality for him is very great and, as you may suppose, most gratifying to me. She thinks nobody equal to him. He has black eyes, like Mr. Elton had—before you, of course.”

  “I assure you, Mr. Weston, I have very little doubt that my opinion will be favourable. I have heard so much in praise of Mr. Frank Churchill. At the same time, it is fair to observe, that I always judge for myself. I am no flatterer.”

  Mr. Weston was musing. “I trust,” said he presently, “that I have not been too severe upon poor Mrs. Churchill. If she is truly ill, I should be sorry to do her injustice; but there are some traits in her character which make it difficult for me to speak of her with the kindness I could wish. She has no pretence of family or blood. She was nobody when Mr. Churchill married her, barely the daughter of a gentlemen, and certainly not the daughter of a vampire; but ever since her being turned into a Churchill she has out-Churchill’d them all in high and mighty claims—but, I assure you, she is an upstart.”

  “Well, that must be infinitely provoking! I have quite a horror of upstarts. Maple Grove has given me a thorough disgust of people of that sort.”

  They were interrupted. Tea was carrying round and Mr. Weston, having said all that he wanted, soon took the opportunity of walking away.

  After tea, the Westons and Mr. Elton sat down with Mr. Woodhouse to cards. The remaining five were left to their own powers. Mr. George Knightley seemed little disposed for conversation, and Mrs. Elton wanted attention which nobody had inclination to pay.

  Mr. John Knightley proved more talkative than his brother. He was leaving early the next day. He said to Emma, “Well, my boys will be visiting Hartfield soon, and all that I can recommend to you is—do not spoil them. Just let them hunt raccoons in the woods and they will be content.”

  “I rather hope to satisfy both you and Isabella,” said Emma, “for I shall do all in my power to make my nephews happy.”

  “And if you find them troublesome—they hardly sleep a wink—you must send them home again.”

  “You think that is likely, do you not?”

  “I am aware that they may be too noisy for your father. They may even be some encumbrance to you, if your social calendar continues to increase as much as it has done lately.”

  “Increase!”

  “Certainly, you must be aware that the last half-year has made a great difference in your way of life.”

  “Difference! No, indeed.”

  “There can be no doubt that you are more engaged with company than you used to be. Witness tonight. Here I visit for only one day, and you are hosting a dinner party! A little while ago, every letter to Isabella brought an account of fresh gaieties—dinners at Mr. Cole’s, or balls at the Crown. It strikes me, Emma, that Henry and John may be sometimes in the way. And if they are, I only beg you to send them home.”

  “No,” cried Mr. George Knightley, “that need not be the answer. Let them be sent to Donwell Abbey. I shall certainly be free to mind them. For I am occasionally pressed to hunt raccoon myself, and neither do I sleep.”

  “Upon my word, Mr. George Knightley,” exclaimed Emma, “you amuse me! You have attended every one of my numerous engagements—and what have they been? Dining once with the Coles and having a ball talked of which never took place. And as to my dear little boys, I must say that, if Aunt Emma has not time for them, I do not think they would fare much better with Uncle George, who is absent from home about five hours where she is absent one.”

  Mr. George Knightley seemed to be trying not to smile and succeeded without difficulty upon Mrs. Elton’s winking her red eye at him and beginning to talk to him.

  The evening ended on a pleasant note, there being no vampire attack after port was passed round.

  “You see?” said Mr. George Knightley to Emma. “I need not have worn my sabre tonight. My suspicion, I believe, has been proven. The absence of Miss Harriet Smith, while depriving us of pleasant company, has assured our dinner party of a peaceful conclusion.”

  Chapter 37

  Upon hearing the news of Frank Churchill’s arrival from London, Emma quietly reflected on her emotions and realised that her feelings for him had faded into nothing.

  But if he were returning with the same feelings as when he left, it would be very distressing. She did not want to have her own affections entangled again, and it would be incumbent upon her to avoid any encouragement of his. Yet she could not escape the feeling that spring would not pass without a crisis, an event, something to alter her peaceful state.

  When at last he arrived at Hartfield for a visit, they met with the utmost friendliness, but it was clear that Frank was less in love than he had been. He was in high spirits, as ready to talk and laugh as ever. But what convinced Emma was his staying only a quarter of an hour, then in a flash, disappearing to make other calls in Highbury.

  This was the only visit from Frank Churchill in the course of ten days. He kept intending to come but was always prevented. His aunt could not bear to have him leave her. It soon appeared that London was not the place for Mrs. Churchill. She could not endure its noise. Her nerves were under continual irritation and suffering.

  The Churchills then decided to move immediately to a furnished house in Richmond, only nine miles from Highbury, for the months of May and June.

  Frank Churchill wrote of the news to the Westons, and Mr. Weston was quite delighted. Now it would be really like having Frank in their neighbourhood. What were nine miles to a young man? An hour’s ride—or a couple of minutes’ run by a swift vampire such as Frank. He would always be coming over.

  One good thing was immediately made certain by the Churchills’ move—the ball at the Crown Inn. Every preparation was resumed, and very soon after the Churchills had moved to Richmond, a date for the ball was fixed. A very few tomorrows stood between the young people of Highbury and happiness.

  Mr. Woodhouse was resigned. The month of May was better for everything than February. Mrs. Bates was engaged to spend the evening at Hartfield with Mr. Woodhouse during the ball, and he hoped that neither dear little Henry nor dear little John, his grandsons who would be visiting, would have anything the matter with them while dear Emma was gone for the evening.

  Chapter 38

  The day of the ball arrived, and no misfortune occurred to prevent it. Mr. George Knightley, however, had forewarned the gentlemen of Highbury to bring their sabres and wooden stakes to the ball, for Miss Harriet Smith, the vampire magnet, would be in attendance.

  Mr. Weston had asked Emma to arrive early to be sure the arrangements were satisfactory. She was to bring Harriet with her, and they arrived just after the Randalls party—the Westons and Frank Churchill.

  Frank did not say much, but his black eyes were full of mirth and declared that he meant to have a delightful evening.

  They all walked about together to see that everything was as it should be. Within a few minutes, a family of old friends arrived, then a carriage of cousins of the Westons, all of whom had been requested to come early on the same errand of preparatory inspection.

  The whole party walked about, and looked, and praised again. Frank was standing by Emma, but there was a restlessness. H
e was looking about, he was going to the door, he was watching for the sound of other carriages—impatient to begin, or afraid of always being near Emma.

  A carriage was heard. Mr. and Mrs. Elton appeared, and all the smiles and politeness disappeared. Emma longed to know what Frank’s first opinion of Mrs. Elton might be—how he was affected by the studied elegance of her dress and her smiles of graciousness.

  After Frank Churchill was properly introduced to Mrs. Elton and politenesses were exchanged, Mrs. Elton took Mr. Weston aside to gratify him by her opinion of his son, such that Frank could not help but overhear.

  “A very fine young man indeed, Mr. Weston. You know I candidly told you I should form my own opinion; and I am happy to say that I am extremely pleased with him. I think him a very handsome young vampire, his complexion pale, his hairstyle modern, his scent appealing, and his manners precisely what I like and approve—so truly the gentleman, without the least conceit or puppyism. You must know I have a vast dislike of puppies—quite a horror of them, as pets or as food. He will certainly turn some young maiden’s eyes bright red.”

  Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax walked into the room, Miss Bates coming in talking with her incessant flow.

  “This is brilliant indeed! Excellently contrived, upon my word—so well lighted up! Jane, Jane, look! Did you ever see anything like it? Oh! Mr. Weston, you must really have had Aladdin’s lamp. Oh! Mr. Frank Churchill, I must tell you my mother’s spectacles have never been in fault since; the rivet never came out again. My mother often talks of your good nature. Does she not, Jane? Do we not often talk of Mr. Frank Churchill? Ah! Here is Miss Woodhouse. Dear Miss Woodhouse, how do you do? This is meeting quite in fairyland! How do you like Jane’s hair? She did it all herself. Quite wonderful how she does her hair!”

  Frank Churchill returned to his station by Emma; and as soon as Miss Bates was quiet, Emma found herself overhearing the conversation of Mrs. Elton and Jane Fairfax, who were standing a little way behind her.

  After complimenting Jane’s dress, Mrs. Elton touched her hand and gave her a shock that nearly sent poor Miss Fairfax reeling.

  Mrs. Elton was evidently wanting to be complimented herself, and it was, “How do you like my gown? How do you like my trimming? How is my hair? When everybody’s eyes are so much upon me, and since this ball is chiefly to honour me, I would not wish to be inferior. And I see very few pearls in the room except mine.”

  Then she added, “So Frank Churchill is a wonderful dancer, I understand. We shall see if our dancing styles suit each other. He is a fine young vam—that is to say, a fine young man. I like him very well.”

  At this moment, Frank began talking so vigorously that Emma could not but imagine he had overheard his own praises and did not want to hear more.

  “How do you like Mrs. Elton?” asked Emma in a whisper.

  “Not at all,” replied Frank. “Where is my father? When are we to begin dancing?”

  Frank walked off to find his father but was quickly back again with both Mr. and Mrs. Weston. They were perplexed. It had just occurred to Mrs. Weston that Mrs. Elton must be permitted to dance first, to begin the ball—that she would expect it—which interfered with all their wishes of giving Emma that honour. Emma accepted the sad truth with courage.

  “And who will be a proper dancing partner for Mrs. Elton?” asked Mr. Weston. “She will think Frank ought to ask her.”

  Frank turned instantly to Emma to remind her that she promised him the first two dances. Mr. Weston smiled his approval, until Mrs. Weston decided that her husband should dance with Mrs. Elton. The group finally persuaded him to oblige.

  Mr. Weston and Mrs. Elton led the way, and Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse followed. Emma submitted to stand second to Mrs. Elton, though she had always considered the ball as uniquely for her. It was almost enough to make her think of marrying.

  In spite of this little insult, however, Emma was smiling with enjoyment, delighted to see a respectable number of couples advance onto the dance floor and to feel that she had so many hours of unusual festivity before her.

  Emma was more disturbed by Mr. Knightley’s not dancing than by anything else. There he was among the standers-by, when he ought to be dancing. His tall, firm, upright figure—there was not one among the whole row of young male vampires who could be compared with him. Whenever she caught his eye, he smiled. He seemed often to be observing her. She must not flatter herself.

  The ball proceeded pleasantly, but Emma noticed that the two last dances before supper had begun, and Harriet had no partner—the only young lady sitting down. She observed Mr. Elton sauntering about. She was sure he would avoid asking Harriet to dance if possible.

  As if to show his liberty, Mr. Elton stood directly before Miss Smith and spoke to those near her. Emma could not bear to watch—but then she danced near to Mr. Elton and overheard Mrs. Weston say, “Do not you dance, Mr. Elton?” to which his prompt reply was, “Most readily, Mrs. Weston, if you will dance with me.”

  “Me! Oh, no! I would get you a better partner than myself. There is a young lady whom I should be very glad to see dancing—Miss Smith.”

  “Miss Smith! Oh, I had not observed. You are extremely kind, but my dancing days are over, Mrs. Weston. You will excuse me.”

  Emma thought, could this really be Mr. Elton speaking? The amiable, obliging, gentle Mr. Elton!

  She could not look again. Her heart was raging, and she feared her face might be as hot. But another moment later, a happier sight caught her eye—Mr. Knightley leading Harriet to the floor! Never had she been more surprised, seldom more delighted, than at that instant. She was all pleasure and gratitude, both for Harriet and herself.

  Mr. Knightley’s dancing proved to be just what she had believed it—extremely good; and Harriet was in complete enjoyment and a very high sense of the distinction, which her happy features revealed.

  Supper was announced. Frank Churchill escorted Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax down the hallway into the dining room, though he himself had no plans to eat. Miss Bates might be heard from that moment, without interruption, until she was seated at a table and taking up her spoon.

  ***

  Emma had no opportunity of speaking to Mr. Knightley till after supper; but when they were all in the ballroom again, her eyes invited him irresistibly to come to her and be thanked. He was warm in his disapproval of Mr. Elton’s conduct—it had been unpardonable rudeness.

  “The Eltons did not offend just Harriet but you as well,” said he. “Emma, why is it that they are your enemies?” He looked at her with a knowing smile. “Confess, Emma, that you wanted Mr. Elton to marry Harriet.”

  “I did,” replied Emma, “and they cannot forgive me.”

  He shook his head; but there was a smile of sympathy with it, and he said only, “I shall not scold you. I leave you to your own reflections.”

  “I admit to having been completely mistaken in Mr. Elton. There is a littleness about him which you discovered and which I did not—and I was fully convinced of his being in love with Harriet. It was through a series of strange blunders!”

  “And, in return for your acknowledging so much, I shall do you the justice to say that Harriet Smith would have been the better wife. She has some first-rate qualities which Mrs. Elton, despite her recent transformation, is totally without.”

  Emma was extremely gratified. They were interrupted by the bustle of Mr. Weston calling on everybody to begin dancing again.

  “Come Miss Woodhouse, Miss Otway, Miss Fairfax, what are you all doing? Come Emma, set your companions the example.”

  “I am ready to dance,” said Emma, “whenever I am asked.”

  “Whom are you going to dance with?” asked Mr. Knightley.

  She hesitated a moment and then replied, “With you, if you will ask me.”

  “May I?” said he, warmly offering his cold, pale hand.


  “Indeed I shall. You have shown that you can dance, and you know that we are not really so much brother and sister as to make it at all improper.”

  “Brother and sister! No, indeed.”

  ***

  At the conclusion of what was generally deemed one of the highlights of Highbury’s social season, the doors of the Crown Inn burst open and the partygoers, numbering in excess of fifty, flooded the street.

  The assembled multitude waited patiently as carriages were summoned and began to be brought up.

  Mr. George Knightley stood with Emma and Harriet Smith, exchanging final pleasantries, when Mr. Knightley abruptly ceased speaking. His acute hearing had detected a worrisome sound.

  “Emma, Miss Smith, I fear danger approaches. Best be at battle ready! I shall gather the other swordsmen!”

  Instantly, and without the slightest embarrassment, Emma and Harriet pawed through their petticoats to retrieve their wooden stakes—each young lady carried two weapons this night, one on each leg.

  “Weston! Cole! Churchill! Elton! Cox!” exclaimed Mr. Knightley. “Arm yourselves!”

  The unexpected, terrifying announcement produced screams of fright from the ladies. They instinctively huddled together for protection.

  “I shall protect the ladies!” announced Mr. Elton. “I shall shield them with my holy body!”

  “Very well,” returned Mr. Knightley, “I should not expect a man of God to take up the sword.”

  “I shall help Mr. Elton!” squealed Frank Churchill, cowering among the ladies.

  “Churchill!” thundered Mr. Knightley. “We need your sabre! No room for cowardice tonight!”

  “I am no coward, sir, and if you persist in challenging my honour, I shall have no choice but to meet you on the morrow with duelling pistols!”

  “Nonsense, you snivelling little mamma’s boy. Go stand with the ladies, then!”

  With no further warning or opportunity for preparation, a horde of more than twenty vulgar, ragged vampires surged forth from the bushes behind the Crown Inn. Their drooling fangs bared, their claws outstretched, they converged upon the horrified crowd of tasty aristocrats.