Unexpected Friends & Relations

by Jayne Bamber

  Mr. Knightley seemed to hesitate, as if unsure whether he should stay or go, for he too had been asked to dine with them.

  “Do not think of going away,” Rebecca said. “I am sure somebody must keep me occupied until Doctor Perry arrives, and I believe you had some news for us.”

  “Oh yes – I am sure it is just the thing to take your mind off the injury,” said he, moving to stand by her side and hold the ice in place on her ankle. “The Eltons arrived the day before yesterday, as your sister predicted. They called on me yesterday, and I believe they intend to visit Hartfield very soon – perhaps tomorrow, in fact.”

  Emma made an indignant sound. “What, they call here, before we have called at the vicarage? That is certainly odd.”

  Here Mr. Knightley laughed. “I suppose I have learned some of you ladies’ mischief, for I suggested it.”

  Emma’s indignation only increased, and Rebecca, whether from her injury or her generally perverse sense of humor, found it hilarious. “Why would you do such a thing?” Emma crossed her arms and glared up at Mr. Knightley.

  “Because I knew that you would not call on them – at least, not until everyone else in the village had done so, and enough time had passed that the Eltons would feel all the insult of your delay.”

  “Which is exactly what I should wish!”

  “Well, I cannot think it right,” Mr. Knightley said with a playful shake of his head. “Come now, Rebecca, you must see that this is folly. It may be perfectly harmless for us to conjecture together, amongst friends, but we cannot really insult the Eltons so publicly.”

  Rebecca laughed. “I suppose you are both right – or, nearer the truth, you are both quite wrong. It would perhaps be very wicked of me to allow Emma to delay her visit, but there is hardly any reason for me to admit that I would have allowed such a thing – John, I am sure, shall be perfectly indifferent. But Mr. Knightley, you have acted too soon – had another day passed, my injury would have given us a perfectly reasonable excuse not to visit them so soon.”

  “And diminished the significance of my delay, confounding the whole purpose of it,” Emma cried. “Now they are to come here – I cannot like it. In visiting them, I retain all the privilege of leaving as quickly as I like. But if they come here, they might stay and vex me for as long as it amuses them to do so!”

  Mr. Knightley grinned. “And as long as it amuses me, for I intend to be here when they come, and watch how you all react to the new Mrs. Elton.”

  “Pah! Vexing man,” Rebecca teased him, even as she winced at her ankle and glanced out the window, hoping to see the doctor’s approach through the window. “Perhaps it is you who I have influenced so wickedly!”

  “Perhaps you have influenced me,” said he, “but I am not ashamed to admit that I am eagerly awaiting your meeting Mrs. Elton.”

  “Well,” Emma prompted him, “what sort of person is she? Is it as we feared?”

  “You must see for yourself – you must form your own opinions,” Mr. Knightley replied, “though I have little doubt what they may be.”

  “I have every hope of finding her just as odious a woman as he deserves,” Emma scoffed. Rebecca smiled for a moment, before the pain in her ankle obliged her to cry out again. “Oh dear,” Emma sighed, “what a dreadful thing, for you to take such a fall!”

  “Pray, let us not speak of it,” Rebecca said. “I should wish to talk of anything else. I am sure Mr. Knightley thinks me the height of foolishness. Yet you enjoyed yourself today, Emma dear. In that much, at least, I can be very well pleased.”

  “I might have enjoyed myself a hundred different ways that did not end in your injury!”

  Rebecca looked to Mr. Knightley, her embarrassment subsiding enough that she might take on a rather challenging look, as if daring him to admonish her at last, but he did not. He began to suggest that she would be more comfortable in her own room to wait for the doctor, but she protested that she had no wish to be alone to reflect upon her folly, and would not be carried again.

  “You may certainly leave me here,” Rebecca said, “and if you have other business to go about, I shall only want a book to occupy myself – I suppose it must be several days of limited movement that I have brought upon myself, but I shall have none of you troubling yourselves on my account.”

  A book was supplied, and Rebecca was duly left in peace, though not without a little more protest from Emma and Mr. Knightley, who would see to her every comfort. The doctor came and went, after telling her what she already suspected – the ankle was twisted, but a speedy recovery would be achieved by keeping off of it for a week at least.

  The Westons and Mr. Churchill joined them for supper, and though Mr. Knightley came into the parlor to offer her his arm, she waved him away, finding herself with very little appetite. He came back again after the meal, when Emma had gone to walk in the garden with Mr. Churchill and the Westons, and John had retired early. “I know you said you were not hungry, but I thought there may be one thing to tempt you,” he said with a wry smile.

  He sat down beside her, dessert plate in hand. Cherry pie. It was just the sort of joke Rebecca would have made, had such a thing happened to him, and she grinned at Mr. Knightley. “Very funny.”

  “And delicious,” he observed, taking a bite of the pie himself. He offered her the fork and plate of pie, and though she thought it strange that he should not have brought another fork, she refused to be put off by his oddity. She had already so thoroughly disgraced herself in front of him that she could not shake away from such a small sort of indignity now. She took the plate and helped herself to a bite of pie, and declared it to be very delicious indeed.

  “Fortunate, is it not,” said he, “that not everybody saw fit to waste the cherries that they collected – you have Emma and Mr. Churchill to thank for this small delight.”

  “I believe I have you to thank as well,” Rebecca murmured, sitting up at a better angle to eat more of the pie. The indulgence of consuming a dessert for dinner, coupled with the pleasant privacy of a quarter-hour of conversation with Mr. Knightley was a small comfort she relished, and he went away after carrying her up to her room and promising to return on the morrow, both to check on her ankle and to watch her reaction to the new Mrs. Elton.

  ***

  For the inevitable visit with Mr. Elton and his bride Emma was duly prepared, but for one other unpleasant occurrence she was not – Mrs. Weston and Mr. Churchill appeared a little earlier than was their usual custom, and in such forlorn looks that Emma was instantly alarmed. She had just been attending to her cousin, who was carried downstairs by John after declaring that she would not miss a glimpse of Mrs. Elton for all the world, when Mrs. Weston and Mr. Churchill arrived.

  Her inquiries answered with most unwelcome tidings – Mr. Churchill had received a communication that morning from his uncle, who was still in Sanditon with his aunt. Though her long residence in the place had done wonders for Mrs. Churchill’s notoriously ill health, she had nonetheless recalled him thither, exercising the liberty of a rich relation upon her dependent.

  It seemed that Mr. Parker had concluded his business in London and returned home the previous day, and that Mr. Churchill’s return was expected to take place at the same time – his absence, when Mr. Parker had returned to Sanditon, had given his aunt reason to complain at his being away so long – she insisted that he could not be spared.

  All this was explained by Mrs. Weston, for Mr. Churchill seemed to feel all the sorrow of going away almost too much to speak of it himself. His dejection was most evident, and Emma’s quite the equal. To first suffer the loss of their ball at the Crown, and now the loss of Mr. Churchill, and all that he might be feeling – it was too wretched!

  Emma’s offer to ring for tea was declined, but Mrs. Weston and Mr. Churchill would come and sit with her, a little away from Rebecca, who had put down her book and fallen asleep on the sofa.

  Whether out of respect for Rebecca’s restive state, or perhaps the misery of
his own temper, Mr. Churchill sat lost in thought for a few minutes, rousing himself at last to say, “Of all the horrible things, leave taking is the worst.”

  Emma could barely meet his eye. “But you will come again,” said she. “This will not be your only visit to Randalls.”

  He shook his head. “The uncertainty of when I may be able to return – I shall try for it with zeal! It will be the object of all my thoughts and cares! You cannot know how it pains me to leave.”

  Emma felt a pang in her heart – having finally met Mr. Churchill after so long a period of curiosity about him, and having discovered him to be superior even to her most generous suppositions, having become in only three weeks so entirely dependent on the certainty of meeting with him almost daily, and now to lose his company and his pleasing attentions for an indeterminate period of time – how cruel! She did not know how she would bear the loss, nor how to express what she felt.

  It appeared unnecessary to attempt it – every look and gesture of Mr. Frank Churchill told her that he felt it just as deeply, that their separation must give him equal pain, for he was scarcely more in control of arranging another meeting between them than she.

  “I shall have news of you,” said he at last. “That is my chief consolation – I shall have news of everything that is going on among you from Mrs. Weston, for I have engaged her to correspond with me. Oh, the blessing of a female correspondent, when one is really interested in the absent! She will tell me everything. Through her letters, I shall be back in Highbury again.”

  Emma nodded sadly. “I shall send you my regards in all of them, I am sure. Indeed, I am certain I shall always have her pestering you to return to us, for our ball at the Crown was postponed, but cannot be put off forever.”

  “No indeed! I am sure it will take place ere long. My aunt must only be appeased for a little while I think – she has been so comfortable in Sanditon, and quite a friend of Lady Denham’s – I am sure Sidney has told you of that particular Lady’s significance – I am sure she wants only a little reminder of my affection for her, before she shall realize that I can easily be spared once more. Count the days, dearest Miss Woodhouse – if I am not back at Randalls and dining by your side in three weeks, I believe I shall owe you another new bonnet!”

  Emma managed to laugh a little, drawing the attention of Mrs. Weston, who had gone to stand by the windows and pretended to look out of them, allowing Emma and Mr. Churchill some semblance of privacy. “I have bonnets enough, sir,” Emma replied, trying to tease him. “It is only for your company that I shall want.”

  Mr. Churchill pressed her hand in his. “But not for long, my l –”

  Mrs. Weston observed that Mr. Knightley was coming up the garden path – and the hour of Mr. Churchill’s departure was drawing near. Emma stood to bid him goodbye, and he gave a very elegant bow and kissed her hand, a significant look passing between them. “Three weeks, Miss Woodhouse, depend upon it.” With that, he was gone; Mrs. Weston spared her one last tender look before following him out of the room, out of the house.

  Mr. Knightley entered a moment later, just as Emma had sunk back down onto her chair and given way to the tears she had been fighting off. “I spoke with Frank just now,” he whispered, coming to stand at her side. As Emma wept into her handkerchief, Mr. Knightley took her hand in his, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Oh, Emma, dearest, I am so very sorry,” said he.

  ***

  Unaware that she had drifted off to sleep, Rebecca awoke to the sound of soft weeping, and slowly opened her eyes. Across the room, Emma was sitting on a chaise, crying, and Mr. Knightley stood at Emma’s side, her hand in his. “Oh, Emma, dearest, I am so very sorry,” said he, and Emma nodded sadly at him, but did not respond.

  Rebecca was thoroughly mortified at having witnessed such a scene, and closed her eyes once more, for she could not bear to look upon so much tenderness. But of course she should be bothered by such a thing, as much as she disliked such sentimentality – that was all there was to it. She gave a little cough then, and made a great show of waking up, not opening her eyes completely until she was certain that they were enough aware of her to have resumed a more dignified posture, and so they had.

  Emma had only the time to dry her tears and announce that Mr. Churchill had just been there, to take his leave of Hartfield and return to his aunt in Sanditon, before more visitors were announced – Mr. Elton and his bride. Emma and Rebecca both required a moment to make themselves quite presentable, and Mr. Knightley did his best to attend to both of them at once.

  Mr. Elton and his bride entered the room and John, who had been lured from his study by the natural curiosity their visit must arouse, accompanied them. “How unrelentingly kind of you to come and call on us,” said he. “I am sure it is the usual way of things that we must pay you the first visit, Mrs. Elton, you being so newly arrived in the area, but at least it is a convenient thing for us, as we currently have an invalid amongst us – my cousin, Lady Rebecca Fitzwilliam.”

  After such a droll speech, all the introductions were duly made, and long before they were concluded, Rebecca and Emma had exchanged such looks between them, and with Mr. Knightley as well, as to confirm that all three of them were firmly decided in their opinion of the new Mrs. Elton.

  It was an awkward visit, though it lasted but a quarter-hour. Rebecca could not but consider that Mr. Elton spent the duration of it in the same room at once with the woman he had just married quite against his own inclination, the woman he had wanted to marry, and a woman who had rather deceived him about the eligibility of yet another lady.

  He betrayed no indication that he had ever felt so very ill-used, by either Emma or Rebecca herself, nor his bride, and indeed were it not for Marianne’s communication, none of them might ever have guessed that his marriage had been imposed upon him after a compromise contrived by the new Mrs. Elton, who, though a pretty girl, was not so particularly beautiful as to tempt a man so desirous of marrying a dowry.

  She immediately began to recommend herself to Rebecca, mentioning her acquaintance with Lady Hartley, in such terms that Rebecca knew must be exaggerated, given the tone of Marianne’s letter, which left little doubt of her feelings.

  Toward Emma herself, Mrs. Elton was less generous, observing only that she had heard of her a little from Mr. Elton before their arrival in Highbury, leading strongly to the implication that she was well aware of her husband’s failed overtures to a woman so infinitely her superior.

  She asked them if they were often reading novels, if they had ever been to Bath or Tunbridge or any other fashionable places, and though with an apparent determination to flatter Rebecca while subtly slighting Emma, declared she was certain they were to be the best of friends, that her coming to the neighborhood was just the thing to lighten the place up, and that they must of course address one another by their Christian names.

  Emma was still far too sullen at the loss of Mr. Churchill to fully enjoy the absurdity of the new Mrs. Elton, but Rebecca was vastly diverted, and began a little scheme with Mr. Knightley of competing to elicit the most ridiculous speech from Mrs. Elton.

  “You mentioned yesterday,” Mr. Knightley prompted Mrs. Elton, “that you are a prodigious reader, and take pleasure in novels especially. I have long encouraged Miss Woodhouse to read more, and perhaps now that Lady Rebecca is constrained to the sofa until her ankle heals, the two of them might be looking for some recommendations on something to read, to keep them well entertained. Have you brought any of your books with you from Bath?”

  “Indeed I have,” she replied with great animation. “I should like nothing better – I told Knightley so myself, Rebecca, just yesterday – that I should like nothing better than for my new friends here to take up the reading of some novel or other with me. We shall go chapter by chapter together, I am sure, and compare every tender sentiment it inspires, every great shock or horror, and amuse ourselves so very well indeed!”

  “Do astonish me, Mrs. Elton,” Rebecca dra
wled. “What would you have me read while I am at the mercy of such limited amusements?”

  “I have already written out a list – Mr. Knightley told me that Miss Fairfax, a very notable young lady of the neighborhood, I understand, once compiled a most admirable reading list, and I was struck by the genius of such an idea. I have done the very same. I will read you their names directly; here they are, in my pocketbook. Castle of Wolfenbach, Clermont, Mysterious Warnings, Necromancer of the Black Forest, Midnight Bell, Orphan of the Rhine, and Horrid Mysteries. Those will last us some time.”

  Out of Mrs. Elton’s sight, Emma was scowling at the mention of Miss Fairfax’s genius, while Mr. Knightley – ‘Knightley’?! – was grinning widely.

  “How very comprehensive,” he observed.

  John turned away from his stilted conversation with Mr. Elton to say, “If you can get Emma to read but one of those, Mrs. Elton, you shall have accomplished more than her governess ever could.”

  Mrs. Elton began to look rather proud of herself. “Oh yes – Mrs. Weston was once your governess! Having understood as much, I was rather astonished to find her so very ladylike! But she is really quite the gentlewoman! I happened to meet with her in the village yesterday afternoon, when my dear Mr. E was showing me around. I think her husband and his son were visiting a widow – Mrs. Bates, I believe – but Mrs. Weston was very civil. There is something so motherly and kind-hearted about her.”

  “Mrs. Weston’s manners,” said Emma, “were always particularly good. Their propriety, simplicity, and elegance would make them the safest model for any young woman.”

  “Indeed,” Mrs. Elton replied, showing no signs of feeling Emma’s rebuke. “I am certain we are to be the very best of friends – how gay we shall all be, us ladies of Highbury, now that I am come.”