“Well,” replied Frank Churchill, “I have so little confidence in my own judgement that, whenever I marry, I hope somebody will choose my wife for me. Will you, Emma? I am sure I should like anybody chosen by you.”
“Very well,” said Emma. “I undertake the commission. You will have a charming wife. She must be very lively and have hazel eyes. She will go abroad for a couple of years for more education then return to be your wife.” The very creature she was describing was Harriet.
“Shall we depart now?” said Jane to her aunt.
“With all my heart,” said Miss Bates. “I am quite ready.”
The group stood up, and Emma relished the prospect of a quiet drive home to close the very questionable enjoyments of this day. Such another excursion, composed of so many ill-assorted people, she hoped never to be talked into again.
While waiting for the carriage, Emma found Mr. Knightley by her side. He looked around, as if to see that no one was near, and then said, “Emma, I must once more speak to you as I used to. How could you be so unfeeling to Miss Bates? How could you be so insolent to a woman of her character, age, and inferior class? Emma, I had not thought it possible.”
Emma blushed and was sorry but tried to laugh it off. “Nay, how could I help saying what I did? It was not so very bad. I daresay she did not understand me.”
His ebony eyes grew darker. “I assure you, she did. She felt your full meaning.”
“Oh!” cried Emma. “I know there is not a better creature in the world than Miss Bates. But you must allow that what is good and what is ridiculous are most unfortunately blended in her.”
“They are blended,” said he, “I acknowledge. And were she a woman of fortune, I would not quarrel with you for any liberties of manner. But Emma, consider that she is poor; she has sunk from the comforts she was born to. It was badly done, indeed! You, whom she has known from an infant, in thoughtless pride, to laugh at her, humble her in front of many others. This is not pleasant for you, Emma, but I must tell you the truth while I can, proving myself your friend by very faithful counsel.”
While they talked, they were advancing towards the carriage. Emma had not been able to speak and, upon entering the carriage, sunk back for a moment, overcome—her face averted from him, full of anger against herself, mortification, and deep concern.
She was vexed beyond what could have been expressed, almost beyond what she could conceal. Never had she felt so agitated or grieved by any circumstance in her life. The truth there was no denying. She felt it in her heart.
How could she have been so brutal, so cruel to Miss Bates! How could she have exposed herself to such ill opinion in Mr. Knightley—a person she so highly valued!
Time did not ease her pain. As she reflected more, she seemed but to feel it more. She never had been so depressed. Happily it was not necessary to speak—there was only Harriet there with her in the carriage, who seemed not in good spirits herself and very willing to be silent.
Emma felt the tears running down her cheeks almost all the way home, without trying to control them, extraordinary as they were.
Chapter 44
The wretchedness of the trip to Box Hill was in Emma’s thoughts all the evening. How it might be considered by the rest of the party, she could not tell. But in her view it was a morning more to be detested than any she had ever spent.
An evening of backgammon with her father was happiness for her. There, indeed, lay real pleasure. As a daughter, she hoped she was not without a heart.
With Miss Bates, she had often been remiss, her conscience told her so—scornful and ungracious. But it should be so no more. In the warmth of true remorse, she would call upon Miss Bates the very next morning, and it should be the beginning of a regular, kindly intercourse.
***
The next morning Emma went early, that nothing might prevent her. At the Bateses’ door, she heard a good deal of moving and talking.
She heard Miss Bates’s voice; then the maid, looking frightened and awkward, ushered Emma in, just as Miss Bates and Jane Fairfax rushed into the next room. Emma had a glimpse of Jane, who looked extremely ill.
The poor old grandmother Mrs. Bates, civil and humble as usual, looked as if she did not quite understand what was going on.
“I am afraid Jane is not very well, Miss Woodhouse,” said she.
Emma had a moment’s fear that Miss Bates might avoid her, but soon she came into the room. Miss Bates had not the usual cheerful look. But after Emma inquired about Jane, Miss Bates’s manner changed immediately.
“Ah! Miss Woodhouse, how kind you are to ask! Jane has accepted a governess position. She has a dreadful headache just now, for tears were in her eyes perpetually, she is so distraught. Though she is amazingly fortunate, she is as low as possible. You will please excuse her—she will be sorry to have missed you.”
Emma was most sincerely interested. Her heart had been growing kinder towards Jane, whose present suffering left Emma nothing but pity. She spoke as she felt, with earnest regret and concern.
“So very kind!” replied Miss Bates. “But you are always kind.”
“Where, may I ask, is Miss Fairfax going?”
“To a Mrs. Smallridge, a charming woman, most superior, to have the charge of her three little girls, delightful children. Jane will be only four miles from Maple Grove.”
“Mrs. Elton, I suppose, has been the person to whom Miss Fairfax owes—”
“Yes, our good Mrs. Elton. She would not let Jane say no, for when Jane first heard of it, she was quite decided against accepting the offer. Then yesterday evening it was all settled that Jane should go. Quite a surprise to me! I had not the least idea! Jane took Mrs. Elton aside, and after the shock of touching her hand subsided told her that upon thinking over the advantages of Mrs. Smallridge’s offer, she had come to the resolution of accepting it.”
“And when is Miss Fairfax to leave you?”
“Very soon, very soon, indeed—that’s the worst of it. Within a fortnight. Mrs. Smallridge is in a great hurry.”
“Her friends will all be sorry to lose her.”
“Yes,” said Miss Bates, “and she had no time even to tell Frank Churchill, who was called away last night to return to Richmond. It would seem his aunt has taken quite ill again.”
“I am so sorry, Miss Bates,” said Emma with sincerity. “I do have the pleasure to inform you, however, that Mr. Knightley has organised an effort to rid our lovely village of the hideous vampire menace.”
“Oh, Miss Woodhouse! How kind of you to let me know. That will be a blessing indeed.”
Emma’s thoughts then drifted back to Frank’s aunt and her illness, reflecting on the contrast between Mrs. Churchill’s importance in the world and Jane Fairfax’s—one was everything, the other nothing—and she sat musing on the difference of women’s destinies, quite unaware that her eyes were staring at the pianoforte, until Miss Bates spoke again.
“Aye, I see what you are thinking of, the pianoforte—what is to become of that? Poor dear Jane was talking of it just now, how much she would miss it. To this day, I do not believe she knows whether it was Mr. Campbell’s present or his daughter’s.”
Now Emma began to think of the pianoforte, and the remembrance of all her former unfair guessing about Mr. Dixon was so displeasing to her that Emma decided her visit had been long enough; and, repeating all the good wishes which she really felt, took leave.
Chapter 45
Upon entering the parlour at Hartfield, Emma found that Mr. Knightley and Harriet had arrived during her absence and were sitting with her father.
Mr. Knightley immediately got up and, in a manner decidedly graver than usual, said, “I would not go away without seeing you, but I have no time to spare, and therefore must now be gone directly. I am going to London to spend a few days with John and Isabella, to review the plans for our final vampire
battle, and to attempt to enlist my brother’s assistance in our effort.”
Emma was sure he had not forgiven her. He looked unlike himself, as if he had not slept all night. However, she thought, time would tell him that they ought to be friends again. While he stood, as if meaning to go, but not going, her father began his inquiries.
“Well, my dear, and did you get there safely? Mr. Knightley, dear Emma has been to call on Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax.”
Emma blushed and looked at Mr. Knightley. There was an instantaneous change in his expression towards her—a smile of regard. She was warmly gratified and, in another moment, Mr. Knightley took her fingers in his pale hand, pressed them, and was about to bring them to his lips, his onyx eyes gazing into hers, when he suddenly let go of her hand.
The intention, however, was unmistakable. Emma thought it so gallant and dignified a gesture of perfect friendship. He left them immediately afterwards—gone in a flash.
Emma wished she had returned ten minutes earlier. It would have been a great pleasure to talk over Jane Fairfax’s situation with Mr. Knightley. They parted thorough friends, however; his gallantry assured Emma that she had fully recovered his good opinion.
Emma shared the news about Jane Fairfax with her father. “I am very glad, my dear, to hear she is to be so comfortably settled. I trust that her health will be taken good care of.”
***
The following day brought news from Richmond to throw everything else into the background. News arrived at the Westons to announce the death of Mrs. Churchill! A sudden seizure had carried her off after a short struggle. The great Mrs. Churchill was no more.
Everybody had a degree of gravity and sorrow—tenderness towards the departed, sympathy for the surviving friends, and, in a reasonable time, curiosity to know where she would be buried.
Mrs. Churchill, after being disliked at least twenty-five years, was now spoken of with compassionate allowances. “Poor Mrs. Churchill! No doubt she had been suffering a great deal more than anybody had ever supposed.”
Emma considered how it would affect Frank Churchill. He would now be free, she thought. Now, an attachment to Harriet Smith would have nothing to stop it. All that remained was that Frank should form the attachment, which Emma could feel no certainty of happening.
It was a more pressing concern for Emma to show attention to Jane Fairfax. The person whom Emma had spent so many months neglecting was now the very one on whom she wanted to lavish regard and sympathy.
Emma invited Jane to spend a day at Hartfield. A note was written, but the invitation was refused by a verbal message: “Miss Fairfax was not well enough to write.”
Mr. Perry called at Hartfield the same morning to report that Miss Fairfax was suffering severe headaches, a nervous fever, appetite gone—and she had not even yet been bitten by a vampire—and he doubted that she could go to Mrs. Smallridge’s on the appointed date. He felt that Jane’s being confined to one room at Miss Bates’s house was harmful.
Emma, eager to be useful, wrote Miss Fairfax again to propose taking her out into the fresh air for an hour or two.
Jane’s answer was only in this short note: “Miss Fairfax’s compliments and thanks, but is quite unable to have any exercise.”
Nonetheless, Emma drove the carriage to Miss Bates’s house in the hope that Jane would be induced to join her—but it would not do. Miss Bates came to the carriage door, all gratitude, to say that Jane could not be persuaded.
“Indeed,” said Miss Bates, “the truth is that poor dear Jane cannot bear to see anybody at all—except Mrs. Elton, Mrs. Cole, and Mrs. Perry. She has not eaten anything at all.”
Emma, on reaching home, speedily dispatched some superior quality herbs to Miss Fairfax with a most friendly note.
In half an hour the gift was returned, with a thousand thanks from Miss Bates, but “dear Jane did not want anything.”
When Emma afterwards heard that Jane Fairfax had been seen wandering about the meadows, on the very day which she had refused to go with Emma in the carriage, she concluded that Jane was resolved to receive no kindness from Emma.
Emma was sorry, very sorry. Her heart was grieved that she was valued so little by Jane as a friend. But she had the consolation of knowing that her intentions were good, and if Mr. Knightley had known of Emma’s attempts to assist Miss Fairfax, he would not have found anything to criticise.
Chapter 46
One morning, about ten days after Mrs. Churchill’s decease, Mr. Weston came to Hartfield and wanted particularly to speak with Emma.
He met her at the parlour door, and in a low voice said, “Can you come to Randalls this morning? Mrs. Weston must see you.”
“Is she unwell?”
“No, no, not at all, but she must see you alone—can you come?”
“Certainly. It is impossible to refuse what you ask in such a way.” To guess what all this meant was impossible even for Emma. Something really important seemed announced by his looks.
They hurried on, and were speedily at Randalls.
“Well, my dear,” said Mr. Weston to his wife, as they entered the room, “I have brought Emma. I shall leave you together.”
Mrs. Weston was looking so ill that Emma’s uneasiness increased.
She eagerly said, “What is it, my dear friend?”
Mrs. Weston said, “Frank Churchill has been here this very morning on a most extraordinary errand. It is impossible to express our surprise. He came to speak to his father on a subject—to announce an attachment—” She stopped to breathe.
Emma thought first of herself and then of Harriet.
“More than an attachment, indeed,” resumed Mrs. Weston. “An engagement of marriage. What will you say, Emma, what will anybody say, when it is known that Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax are engaged—nay, that they have long been engaged!”
Emma jumped with surprise and, horror-struck, exclaimed, “Jane Fairfax! Good God! You are not serious! You do not mean it!”
“It is so,” returned Mrs. Weston, still averting her eyes. “There has been a solemn engagement between them ever since October, formed at the Weymouth resort and kept a secret from everybody. Not a creature knowing it but themselves—neither the Campbells, nor her family, nor his.”
Emma scarcely heard what was said. Her mind was divided between two ideas—her own former conversations with him about Miss Fairfax and poor Harriet.
“Engaged to her all winter, before either of them came to Highbury?”
“It has hurt me, Emma, very much. It has hurt his father equally. Some part of his conduct we cannot excuse.”
Emma pondered a moment and then replied, “Please let me assure you that, in the early part of our acquaintance, I did like him and I was very much disposed to be attached to him. Fortunately, however, it did cease. I have really for some time, for at least three months, cared nothing about him. You may believe me, Mrs. Weston. This is the simple truth.”
Mrs. Weston kissed her with tears of joy.
“Mr. Weston will be much relieved,” said she. “It was our wish that you might be attached to each other, and we were persuaded that it was so. Imagine what we have been feeling on your account.”
“I must say, Mrs. Weston, that I think he bears great blame. What right had he to come among us with such affection and attention while he really belonged to another? It was very wrong, indeed.”
“Now, dear Emma, I must defend him. For though he has been wrong in this instance, I have known him long enough to answer for his having many, very many, good qualities, and—”
“Good God!” cried Emma. “Jane has accepted a position as governess. How could he allow her to accept the position?”
“He knew nothing about it, Emma. When he learned of it, he decided to come forward and reveal his secret engagement.”
Emma began to listen better.
> “I am to hear from him soon,” continued Mrs. Weston. “Do not let us be in a hurry to condemn him. Now that I know, I am sincerely anxious for all turning out well. They must both have suffered a great deal under such secrecy.”
“His sufferings,” replied Emma dryly, “do not appear to have done him much harm. Well, how did his uncle Mr. Churchill take it?”
“Most favourably for his nephew—he gave his consent with hardly any difficulty. Scarcely are Mrs. Churchill’s remains at rest in the family vault than her husband acts exactly opposite to what she would have wished. What a blessing it is when influence does not survive the grave!”
“Well,” said Emma, “I suppose we shall gradually grow reconciled to the idea, and I wish them very happy. But here have we been the whole winter and spring completely duped.”
At this moment, Mr. Weston appeared at a little distance from the window. His wife invited him in and, while he was coming round, she added, “Now, dearest Emma, let me beg you to say you are satisfied with the match. Let us make the best of it. Frank is very fortunate to be engaged to a girl of such steadiness of character and good judgement.” And, she might have added, she will turn Frank’s eyes from black to red, and Jane Fairfax will be none the paler for it.
Emma met Mr. Weston upon his entrance with a smiling face, exclaiming, “I congratulate you, Mr. Weston, with all my heart, on the prospect of having one of the most lovely and accomplished young women in England for your daughter.”
A glance between Mr. Weston and his wife convinced him that all was as right as this speech proclaimed, and its happy effect on his spirits was immediate. He became perfectly reconciled, thinking it the very best thing that Frank could possibly have done.
Mr. Weston then said, “I have met recently with Mr. Knightley, and I believe we are close to finalising our plan to rid Highbury of the wretched creatures in our midst. Dear Emma, we value your friendship and wooden stake immensely!”
Emma and the Vampires Page 21