Unexpected Friends & Relations

by Jayne Bamber

  Mr. Knightley looked rather pained, and Rebecca could not at all account for why he should be so disposed against a young man he had only met once in the whole course of his life. He was silent for a moment, before he finally made his whispered reply. “If it is as you say, and Emma really does fall in love with Frank Churchill, despite all that she has been through, I should not wish it to be so simple. Perhaps it would do better for her to be in love, and in some doubt of a return.”

  “Shocking reply, Mr. Knightley! Next you will be telling me that you are wishing the same for Mary and Mr. Elton over there, and turn us all into some Gothic novel!”

  Glancing in the direction of Mr. Elton and Mary, who were engaged in a private tete-a-tete on the window seat across the room, Mr. Knightley gave another heavy sigh. “You are far too like your cousin. She once tried to play matchmaker with Mr. Elton, and I daresay she has told you how that unfortunate scheme unfolded. I do not think you should attempt to make matches yourself, Lady Rebecca, no indeed. Nor should you – blast! You have lured me into arguing with you once more!”

  At this Rebecca could only laugh. “I may be prone to arguing, but I have an uncanny knack for bringing others over to my way of thinking, and I shall get you yet! You shall see the unrelenting wisdom of all my plans, for Emma shall marry Mr. Frank Churchill. As regards Mary and Mr. Elton, I am certainly not thinking of a match between them – I only meant to suggest that you are determined to think the worst of everyone.”

  Mr. Knightley gave her a sardonic look, but would say no more. He shook his head at her with tremendous emphasis, and just the trace of a smile, before moving away to speak with Miss Bates.

  14

  Hartfield, Surrey, early April

  The morning of Mr. Frank Churchill’s much anticipated arrival brought two other visitors to Hartfield. The first was Mr. Elton, whom Rebecca presumed must be curious to see if Mr. Churchill had yet called, and if the newcomer would present any sort of challenge to himself, and the attentions he was determined to pay Mary Bennet.

  Rebecca observed the two of them from the drawing room window, as Mary walked the gardens on Mr. Elton’s arm. One of Mr. Knightley’s comments, made at the Westons’ dinner party two nights earlier, had particularly bothered her. Though Rebecca indeed intended that Emma’s affections should be engaged by Mr. Frank Churchill, she had no intention whatsoever of allowing Mary Bennet to become likewise engaged to Mr. Elton, despite Mr. Knightley’s accusations. What a preposterous notion indeed!

  As Rebecca watched her young protégé, whom she was certain could do much better than the vainglorious Mr. Elton, she began to fear that perhaps she ought begin to intervene. It had been convenient that Mary had taken a liking to the man, in a friendly sort of way, for the cessation of his attentions to Emma was a great relief to everyone. However, it would not do for Mr. Elton to presume too much. She determined to give it another week, allowing for Mr. Frank Churchill to become acquainted, uninterrupted, with Emma, before Rebecca must intervene in Mr. Elton’s apparent designs upon Mary.

  It was at this moment that Hartfield received its daily visitor, Mr. Knightley, who came to stand beside Rebecca at the window, and easily guessed her thoughts. “There is one happy couple,” said he. “We want only the arrival of Mr. Frank Churchill to complete the other one.” He schooled his countenance into a look of perfect innocence, but there was a glint of irony in his eyes. “Where is the other bride-to-be this morning?”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes at Mr. Knightley. “Emma is still abed, in fact. We were up rather late last night, speaking of – well, I suppose I needn’t tell you who.”

  “Ah yes, the prodigal son.”

  “You pretend to dislike him, and yet here you are, as eager as the rest of us to set eyes upon him.”

  “No indeed,” Mr. Knightley replied. “I came to warn you about that,” he pointed out the window at Mr. Elton and Mary.

  Rebecca glowered at him, and moved away from the window. “I have already told you, sir, there is nothing to it. You have come all this way for nothing.”

  “I think you must reconsider. Every time I have heard them speaking together, not only is he lavishing her with praise thicker than molasses, he is asking her a great many probing questions about her family and connections, and I believe he may be forming some designs on her, which I believe are reciprocated. It is folly,” Mr. Knightley said with great feeling, “and you had better put a stop to it.”

  Rebecca folded her arms across her chest, her posture at once defensive and yet defiant. “It is none of your concern, I am sure, and you do Mary and I great insult by presuming you know better. We know what we are about. Mary means only to give Emma some respite from Mr. Elton’s persistent attentions, particularly now that Mr. Churchill is to come amongst us; I certainly think she knows better than to grow fond of Mr. Elton herself.”

  “Think again, Lady Rebecca. She is attached to him, I am certain of it.”

  “No indeed! She has known him a fortnight – no one can grow so dangerously attached in such a short space of time!”

  “Perhaps you cannot, but I really think it is possible.”

  “Do you think my cousin Mary to be a foolish woman, Mr. Knightley?”

  “That is not at all what I meant –”

  “That must be what you mean, if you are suggesting that she is in love with the likes of Mr. Elton, whom she surely knows to be a grasping fortune hunter.”

  Mr. Knightley let out a strangled sound and threw his head back in exasperation. “You are determined to mistake me. Mary Bennet is no fool, but Mr. Elton is not, either, and I believe him perfectly capable of recommending himself to any lady he believes worthy of his attention, but we both know that Miss Bennet….”

  “What, my cousin and particular friend, not worthy of a smarmy upstart country parson?”

  “I mean that she has not the dowry he believes a lady of her connections would possess! You have allowed, nay, encouraged this misapprehension, and I fear it will lead her to folly and misery of the acutest kind when he learns the truth.”

  “Then see to it that he does not! You are under no obligation to undeceive him, for I know you dislike the man as much as the rest of us!”

  “That is not the point, Rebecca!”

  Rebecca glowered at his informal address. “Rebecca, now, is it? Well, George, I think it beastly of you to claim to care about Emma’s welfare, and then threaten to spoil a perfectly harmless means of keeping Mr. Elton too distracted from plaguing her with his unwanted addresses!”

  “Aside from the fact that it is morally reprehensible to use your own relation as… as romantic bait, which is precisely what you are doing, it is dishonest to allow Mr. Elton to think Mary Bennet is wealthy! And, in my opinion, it is beneath you.”

  “Beneath me! First of all, I never told him she was rich – if he has made that assumption, then it is his own fault! Besides, I think it very clever of me to distract him with Mary, and as usual you undervalue my talents and spin the truth to fit your own purposes, so that you can take the moral high road and lord it over everyone!”

  Mr. Knightley, pacing still, let out another great huff of frustration. “I really do think you take delight in willfully misunderstanding me, Rebecca. I meant to compliment you by saying that I thought better of you than resorting to this paltry trick. Perhaps I was suspicious of you when first we met, but since then I have come to hold you in….” Mr. Knightley paused, his breath catching in his throat from his tirade. “I have come to hold you in the highest possible esteem, and I cannot like to see you reduce yourself to such schemes and machinations.”

  Rebecca threw her hands up in vexation. “So I have reduced myself? I should like to reduce your interference, George Knightley! You were most insistent that I come to Surrey to be of assistance to Cousin Emma, and as soon as I begin to do exactly that, you criticize me at every turn. It is not to be borne!”

  Mr. Knightley’s countenance grew dark, and Rebecca began to fear she h
ad railed against him rather too much. He strode toward her, stopping just a few steps away, and bit his lip to check his temper before speaking again. “I criticize you, yes, but only because I know that you are better than this dangerous game you are playing. You wish to help Emma by relieving her of Mr. Elton’s irritating overtures – that is admirable, certainly, but you simply cannot do so at the expense of another person who is in just as much need of your protection. You brought Miss Bennet here with you, and you are responsible for her well-being while she is here. Whatever dismay she is caused by her dealings with Mr. Elton, that is on your head, Rebecca, and I believe you shall bitterly regret your meddling.”

  Rebecca turned her face away, unable to bear the look in Mr. Knightley’s eyes. “Very well, sir. You have said enough. I understand you perfectly, but I am afraid we are not to agree on this matter. What a pity, I had thought we were rather becoming friends.”

  Mr. Knightley quickly closed the distance between them, though Rebecca would not look at him. “Friends? Yes, I hope we are friends, though we may disagree,” he said, his voice husky and still thick with feeling. To Rebecca’s surprise, he seized her by the shoulders, his grip tight but not painful, and he jerked her slightly, forcing her to look up at him. She glared up at him, determined not to be daunted by the burning intensity in his eyes, and held his gaze until it was he who looked away.

  Finally Mr. Knightley released her, his fingers brushing her shoulder lightly where he had held her for that frighteningly long moment. “Let us speak no more about it then, and tend our own consciences.”

  Rebecca gave a heavy sigh, unable to formulate any reply with him towering over her, and still standing so very close. A moment later he turned away, striding out the garden door and up the gravel path, not once looking back. Rebecca kicked at the air where he had been standing before her. “Tiresome bully! Vexing brute!” She wrapped her arms around herself in frustration, her fingers tightly hugging the place where he had held her.

  ***

  Emma, finally making her way downstairs, happened to encounter her cousin Rebecca on the landing, and halted abruptly at her side. Rebecca looked very cross indeed, and almost appeared to have been crying. “Cousin! Whatever is the matter?”

  “Oh! Do not think of me, dearest,” Rebecca replied, wiping at her face. “And today was to have been such a fine day, full of such promise! Now, I think it is all ruined; I can scarcely speak of it.”

  “But what has happened? Has Mrs. Weston been here – is there some trouble at Randalls?”

  “No, dearest – that is, I am sure nothing has changed, regarding the expected visit from Mr. Churchill. We are to think of them at four this afternoon, are we not? I am sure they will come to us tomorrow, and by then I am sure I will have recovered.”

  “But from what shall you need to recover? You look very ill, Rebecca. Perhaps you ought to go and lie down.”

  “Yes, I think you must be right. Only tell me this – what think you of Mary and Mr. Elton? Surely the interest must all be on his side – I am sure she does not think of him.”

  Emma shrugged her shoulders, surprised that Rebecca should be giving the matter any thought. “I do not know – I should hope she does not like him so very much, for he is such an odious man – and surely she must have heard us all speaking so ill of him, that she could be of no other opinion herself. You shall have to ask her about it, if this is what has you so distressed. He has not – that is….”

  “He has not importuned her, that I am aware of,” Rebecca said. “It is only that Mr. Knightley has come to tell me off about it – he thinks it a most ill-conceived plan that Mary should distract Mr. Elton from paying you his addresses. Imagine that, Mr. Knightley disapproving of something!”

  Now Emma laughed, greatly relieved that there was no real trouble, for of course Mr. Knightley would think such a thing. “Do not trouble yourself over it, Cousin Rebecca. It is only Mr. Knightley’s habit to be so forthright, and unshakable in his resolution that everything should be done properly and carefully. I daresay this is the first of many times you and he shall disagree about something or other, and really, I think it shows how well he thinks of you indeed, that he should bother to make his sentiments known to you.”

  “He certainly did make his sentiments known to me,” Rebecca fairly growled. “Vexing man! I have never met anyone so very forward in his address, so determined to presume the worst in others, and so eager to hold his own opinions in the very highest regard, to the exclusion of all others!”

  Emma tried not to laugh at her cousin, who might very well have been describing herself. “If I am to understand, Mr. Knightley disapproves of Mr. Elton’s attentions to Mary? How odd that he should think of it at all. I wonder, if it bothers him so much, that he does not merely speak to Mr. Elton directly.”

  “I rather wish he would not! If he warns Mr. Elton that Mary has no fortune – a misapprehension I am sure was not deliberate on my part or Mary’s – well, Mr. Elton will very likely resume his addresses to you, and at such a time when your attention should all be for Frank Churchill! Dreadful Mr. Knightley, to meddle with all my plans!”

  Emma smiled to herself, pleased that Rebecca should be so considerate of her own desire to become better acquainted with Mr. Frank Churchill. “Do not distress yourself, Cousin,” said she. “It is so very unlike you!”

  Rebecca sniffled. “You are right – pray, make my excuses to Mary; she is out in the garden with Mr. Elton, I think. I am going to lie down.”

  As Rebecca retreated upstairs, Emma herself was deciding how best to avoid Mr. Elton, and decided she might take up some embroidery work in the parlor, until Mary came back into the house. She opened the parlor door, and saw three gentlemen sitting with John – Mr. Weston and two younger gentlemen, one of whom must be his son. They had arrived only a few minutes before, and Mr. Weston had scarcely finished his explanation of Frank's being a day before his time, and John was yet in the midst of his very civil welcome and congratulations, when she appeared, to have her share of surprise, introduction, and pleasure.

  The Frank Churchill so long talked of, so high in interest, was actually before her – he was presented to her, and she did not think too much had been said in his praise; he was a very good looking young man; height, air, address, all were unexceptionable, and his countenance had a great deal of the spirit and liveliness of his father's; he looked quick and sensible. She felt immediately that she should like him; and there was a well-bred ease of manner, and a readiness to talk, which convinced her that he came intending to be acquainted with her, and that acquainted they soon must be.

  The other gentleman, upon being introduced to her, had Emma repressing a tremendous smirk, with a thought for Rebecca, for Mr. Frank Churchill had travelled into Surrey with none other than Mr. Sidney Parker of Sanditon. He, too, was pleasing in both looks and manners. He was a little more tanned than his friend, which was only natural for a man who resided so near the sea, and not quite so tall, a failing which Emma thought she could easily forgive, for it was plain he was eager to recommend himself to her.

  The two gentlemen had reached Randalls the evening before, having set out early from Sanditon. “Just what I should do myself,” cried Mr. Weston with exultation. “The pleasure of coming in upon one's friends before the look-out begins is worth a great deal more than any little exertion it needs!”

  “It is a great pleasure where one can indulge in it,” said Mr. Churchill, “though there are not many houses that I should presume on so far, but in coming home I felt I might do anything.”

  The word home made his father look on him with no little affection. Emma was sure that he knew how to make himself agreeable; the conviction was strengthened by what followed. He was very much pleased with Randalls, thought it a most admirably arranged house, would not admit that it was even slightly small, admired the situation, the walk to Highbury, Highbury itself, Hartfield still more, and professed himself to have always felt the sort of interest in
the country which none but one's own country gives, and the greatest curiosity to visit it. That he should never have been able to indulge so amiable a feeling before, passed suspiciously through Emma's brain; but still, if it were a falsehood, it was a pleasant one, and pleasantly handled. His manner had no air of study or exaggeration. He did really look and speak as if in a state of uncommon enjoyment.

  Their subjects in general were such as might belong to an opening acquaintance, and she found both of the young men equally willing to converse. Mr. Parker led with a great many inquiries, both in relation to Emma herself, and the neighborhood and society of Highbury overall.

  Once satisfied on all these points, and their acquaintance so effectively advanced, Mr. Churchill was determined to have his share of the conversation. He introduced the subject of his stepmother, and speaking of her with so much handsome praise, so much warm admiration, so much gratitude for the happiness she secured to his father, and her very kind reception of himself, was an additional proof of his knowing how to please – and of his certainly thinking it worthwhile to try to please Emma herself. He did not advance a word of praise beyond what she knew to be thoroughly deserved by Mrs. Weston; but, undoubtedly he could know very little of the matter. He understood what would be welcome; he could be sure of little else.

  “My father's marriage,” he said, “had been the wisest measure. Every friend must rejoice in it.”

  He got as near as he could to thanking her for Mrs. Weston’s merits, without seeming quite to forget that in the common course of things it was to be rather supposed that Mrs. Weston had formed Miss Woodhouse's character.