Unexpected Friends & Relations

by Jayne Bamber

  “But you have been together all morning,” he argued.

  “More the better for you,” Mary quipped, daring to offer Mr. Tilney a cheeky look. “If you are to be one of the shooting party, I hope you have used this morning to your advantage, sir – you would not wish to be disgraced in front of your companions by being such a terrible shot.”

  Mr. Tilney grinned and placed his hand on his heart. “You wound me! All my secrets laid bare – what have I gotten myself into?”

  “I should hope you will be getting into the lemonade,” Eleanor replied. “Mary and I are going to go and claim a place to sit under the lovely tent just over there – we may be prevailed upon to save you a seat, if you would be so good as to bring us some refreshments.”

  With a droll look for them both, Mr. Tilney made for the refreshment table, and Mary allowed Eleanor to lead her over to the tent, where she introduced Miss Cole to her friends. She could barely keep her mind focused on the task at hand as the introductions were gone through and a comfortable situation claimed, a little table with three wrought iron chairs, near the edge of the tent. Just beyond them, Kate, Cecily and Emily had begun to practice at archery, and Eleanor glanced over at them with a look of amusement.

  “Are you an accomplished archer, Mary?”

  “Not at all,” Mary replied, watching Cecily nock an arrow and shoot it straight into the center of her target.

  “Nor am I, but Henry is quite good – you must ask him for a lesson!”

  “But will he not be going into the meadow to shoot with the other gentlemen?”

  “Certainly not now that you are here!”

  Mary blushed. It was strange to hear Eleanor speaking so openly about what Mary herself had spent the last three weeks hesitating to even acknowledge. And yet, it was nearly out in the open now. Every interaction she had ever had with Mr. Tilney must be considered in a new light, and she knew not whether it was more difficult to admit that she had feelings for him, or accept the fact that he may indeed return them.

  It was far from the sort of romantic attachment Mary had ever imagined for herself. At Longbourn, she had always believed it unlikely that she should ever marry at all – certainly not until long after her sisters had. Indeed, she had given very little thought to what sort of man she might like. A parson seemed a rather obvious choice, but she had never imagined meeting one so handsome, so charming, so lively and intelligent, nor one with any family members so instantly disposed to think well of her, to even promote the match.

  Mr. Tilney reappeared, bearing three glasses of lemonade which he carried delicately and set down on the table before taking a seat with them. “Well, Miss Cole,” he said loudly, “how do you and Miss Bennet get on? Do you not find your friend in very fine looks today? I am in a position to assure you, since her leaving you in Highbury and coming here to Kent, that she has been in very fine looks every day of her stay here, but never more than today. I find your gown especially charming, Miss Bennet – it puts me in mind of a true Indian muslin, which I believe I mentioned to you on the occasion of our meeting, a true Indian muslin that I got at quite a bargain, as a present for my beloved sister – your mother was most impressed by my acuity.”

  Mary gasped. “Ellie!”

  Eleanor laughed. “What excellent taste you have, sir. I am sure my dear Mary must appreciate a man of such brilliance, just as much as I am sure your sister does. I agree she is in very fine looks – I hope to see her wearing her new Indian muslin very often.”

  “So do I,” Mr. Tilney replied, a smile tugging on the corner of his lips. “I have procured your refreshments, and I hope to be repaid by some very fine company this afternoon. How are we to amuse ourselves? After all, I am a very poor shot – quite a terrible shot – I shan’t join the shooting party, I am sure.”

  “Mary has expressed a wish to become better acquainted with archery, sir,” Eleanor replied with a smirk.

  “Has she?”

  “I am not sure that I have,” Mary replied cautiously. She saw what they were about now – she began to suppose that Eleanor had been rather correct about Mr. Tilney – but she still was not entirely certain of her own heart, and thought well enough of Eleanor already that she did not wish to give too much hope to either of the two Tilney siblings. It was simply too much – too fantastical – too perfect that it should all work out so easily, to everyone’s satisfaction.

  Mr. Tilney, not to be daunted, looked at Mary with such a tender smile, there were butterflies in her stomach, but she was not to know what he might have said to her. His smile suddenly disappeared, and he let out a heavy sigh, turning to address his sister. “Ellie, listen very carefully. Do not look behind you. You will stand up, and walk calmly around the back of the house. Do not turn your face toward the front driveway, not even a little. Miss Bennet, I think you had better go with her, and see if you might borrow a shawl from somebody, to cover as much of your dress as possible.”

  Eleanor’s eyes went wide. “No,” she breathed.

  “Yes, I am afraid so,” Mr. Tilney replied. “That is unmistakably our father’s carriage approaching the front driveway of Cranbrook.”

  Eleanor appeared quite frozen in place, but Mary reacted instantly. As it happened, Kate had left her own shawl draped over a nearby chair, and Mary instantly wrapped it around herself, glancing nervously in the direction of the front of the house – she heard the sound of the horses and carriage wheels grow closer, and she knew they must be away before General Tilney had exited his barouche.

  Mary reached out, beckoning for Eleanor to follow her, and Mr. Tilney stood, helping his sister, who had grown quite agitated, to her feet. “Do not fear Ellie; we have discussed this eventuality. Simply keep your back to him as he makes his approach, and do not appear to be hurrying away.”

  “Exactly so,” Mary agreed. “We shall walk arm in arm, as if we are having a very gay time. We shall go around the back of the manor, and then through the far side of the meadow, where we shall be quite safe from any stray shots being fired. We will have to take the longer route back to Rosings, but we shall get you there quite undetected, I am sure of it.”

  “I cannot thank you enough for this, Mary,” Mr. Tilney said with a significant look. He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss there. “Off with you, now – I shall come to you as soon as I am able.”

  28

  Surrey, late May

  Jane Fairfax was only gone from Hartfield for three days before she declared herself entirely recovered, and with her came the return of Emma’s good cheer. She was relieved that Hartfield would not be without a governess once more, and even grateful that there was no lasting rupture between Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax, and herself and Rebecca. Though Emma had known the two ladies of Highbury all her life, she suspected Rebecca felt an even greater share of guilt for having slighted them at Box Hill – she remained attentive, and even friendly to Miss Fairfax, but beyond that, Rebecca really did seem out of sorts all week.

  Emma could not account for why Rebecca seemed so depressed – she could not truly feel such remorse for having offended Miss Bates, when they had been forgiven – Emma feared her cousin must be wishing to go away from Surrey, as she had been there nearly two months; and yet, with each day Emma passed so cheerfully in the company of Frank Churchill, Emma began to suppose she would mind it less and less.

  Mrs. Weston, who was often accompanying her stepson on his daily visits to Hartfield, had another theory about Rebecca. “It is curious,” said she, “that Rebecca should be so glum, and that the change in demeanor should coincide with Mr. Parker going away from Highbury – and after her sudden, drastic change in opinion of him! She was ever polite to him, but barely more than civil – and I often caught her giving him such looks – but she must be in love with him!”

  “Impossible,” Emma said. “No indeed, you shall never persuade me.”

  “Be that as it may, I have entirely convinced myself,” Mrs. Weston replied. “And
I am sure Mr. Knightley agrees with me, for we were speaking of it at Box Hill. Only think of it – we do not know the full history of their acquaintance in London, only that they had met before. That he should come to Highbury at all, knowing no one but Frank, just after Rebecca herself traveled here, is suspicious enough already. She was cold to him when first he came, and he soon went away. But then he came back again, and whatever had transpired between them, they must have reconciled – her demeanor to him changed entirely.”

  “Yes, but now he has gone away again!”

  “He has, but has promised to return for the ball – I am sure he means to propose to her. He has likely returned home to Sanditon to collect some family heirloom, a ring perhaps….”

  Emma scowled, prepared to refute Mrs. Weston’s idea, when something struck her; though she could not confide in her friend, for she did not wish to betray a secret that was not her own, she realized there may be a little merit in the notion. She recalled what Rebecca had told her just before they left Box Hill, about separating Mr. Parker from Miss Darcy. And this was just a few months before they had come to Highbury! “Well – whether it be true or not, the ball is but a few days away, and I suppose we have not long to wait to see which of us is right.”

  Here Mrs. Weston smiled warmly. “You may be distracted at the ball, with other matters of the heart – I shall be watching you all very closely.”

  ***

  There was one thing that required Emma’s attention before she could be perfectly at ease with what might transpire at the ball. Frank Churchill’s daily calls to Hartfield since his return had made his intentions quite clear to Emma, and though she welcomed any addresses he might pay, whenever he should choose to make them, she had not yet fully made peace with her own happiness. The morning of the ball was begun with a visit to the churchyard.

  Bearing two large bouquets of wildflowers, Emma sat down on the grassy space between where her father and her sister had been laid to rest. “I have missed you both so very much,” said she. Emma let out a heavy sigh. “Is it wrong of me to feel so happy, so soon after losing you? I hope you are looking down on me, and that you see me, that you see us all. Rebecca is come, but I am sure you must know that. Mr. Churchill is here, too – how you would like him! He makes me laugh, Papa. I think he would make you laugh too, Isabella. He is so very good to our Mrs. Weston, you know – I think that would please you above anything, Papa, besides how good he is to me. I think he means to propose to me, and I wish you were here to give your permission.”

  A bird flew up, and landed on her father’s headstone. He gave a few hops, turned to Emma, and made one chirp before flying off. A single tear rolled down Emma’s cheek, and she did not wipe it away. “Well, I suppose that is something,” she said, her voice trembling.

  “It certainly is.” Emma turned around, and there was Frank Churchill, standing on the gravel path, holding flowers of his own. “Good morning. I did not expect to see you – I came to visit my mother. Would you like to meet her?”

  “I should like that very much,” Emma said, her eyes misting with tears. “But first, would you like to speak to Papa and Isabella?”

  “I would.” He slowly approached, and sat down beside Emma. He took her hand in his, and she was obliged to turn her face away, hoping the wide brim of her bonnet would shield her expression, for she was sure it conveyed far too much emotion.

  . “Papa, this is Mr. Churchill, Mr. Weston’s son.”

  “I have heard such wonderful things of you, sir,” Frank said. “I am sure we must have met when I was a babe, too small to remember you, but I am told you were a kind and generous man. My father and stepmother speak well of you, and Emma misses you so very much.”

  “I do,” Emma said, a sob escaping her lips, and he squeezed her hand. “And Isabella, how you should be laughing with Mr. Churchill!”

  “Indeed,” said he. “I should be paying you every fine compliment, on your fine flock of children, and I am sure we should be the best of friends.”

  Emma offered him a weepy smile. “Well, then. Let us go and speak to your mother.”

  ***

  Rebecca could not like the ball – it was all wrong, quite wrong. John and Miss Fairfax had been eminently more sensible, in staying at home, and she began to wish she had done the same. Her only pleasure in the evening was seeing Emma so happy. Rebecca was ready to be wishing her cousin joy, for Frank Churchill seemed very near to declaring himself – it would have surprised Rebecca not at all if he made his addresses that very night.

  Beyond that, she took no other satisfaction in going to the Crown. She disliked the pokiness of the room, which felt cramped and constrictive, the arrogance of Mrs. Elton, who was far too aware of her own success in helping bring the ball about, and the general sense of something entirely wanting in the evening.

  Sidney Parker had returned; Rebecca could not account for why he should return at all, particularly as his mood was just as it had been at Box Hill. He was determined to recommend himself to her, though he appeared unwilling to exert the same effort toward anyone else. Even his friend seemed mortified by Mr. Parker’s peevishness, and kept a distance from him.

  The opening set of dances could not be escaped; Rebecca could only endure them, endeavoring to remain civil as Mr. Parker chatted away at her. He spoke of his return to Sanditon, where, despite the success of his recent endeavors, he had not felt entirely satisfied – Lady Denham would plague him still about her niece.

  “But she cannot force you into any attachment of that sort, against your will,” Rebecca said, in an effort to do away with his ill-humor. “She is nothing to you – neither family, nor employer.”

  “Yes, that is true,” he owned, “though she is the principal investor in a great many of my projects in Sanditon.”

  “From what I understand, her principal authority over you shall extend only as far as the completion of these projects for improving the place before summer. Are you any nearer being done with your endeavors?”

  His eyes lit up at her interest in that which consumed him. “Very near. The Clifftop Promenade has been extended, with an additional two miles of scenic walkways being gravelled.. We have nearly finished the construction of a horse-racing track, one of Colonel Campbell’s ideas, as well as another of his – a large botanical garden with a lovely folly in the center, and an area meant for public events – outdoor dancing, and the like. I hired some additional bathing machines while I was last in London, and more recently, in Sanditon, I have arranged for fortnightly assemblies at the Bijou Hotel to commence on the first of July. Yes, everything is moving forward well. We want only the influx of visitors to make it a profitable venture, and then I need not rely on Lady Denham any further.”

  “I see,” Rebecca said, though in truth she knew very little about business matters. What an odd thing, to be prattling away about investments and business ventures in a ballroom! She was relieved when Mr. Churchill took pity on her and danced the next set with her, for he and his father might be the only agreeable partners she could look forward to all night, as Mr. Knightley was still away in London.

  After supper, which Rebecca had passed, as a further act of atonement, conversing with Miss Bates, in the hope that it would distract the good lady from her niece’s absence, Rebecca was again importuned by Mr. Parker.

  She ought to have refused outright – there would really be no ill in doing so, for there was no particular reason she might regret sitting out the rest of the evening. However, she took pity on the poor man, who seemed quite as out of sorts as herself. She first told him she required but a little rest; she meant to converse with some of the other company present for a little while – she would dance the last of the night with him, and he went away directly, to speak with Emma and Frank Churchill.

  Mrs. Weston approached her a moment later, having watched Rebecca speaking to Mr. Parker. “Well, Lady Rebecca, I confess I scarcely know what to make of your conquest!”

  “My conquest?
”

  “But of course. Oh, it is very plain to see that Mr. Parker is in love with you! I hope I am not too forward – I thought you were finally coming closer to reaching an understanding with him. The two of you seemed very cozy at Donwell, and at Box Hill, too. I have every day been wondering when I should wish you joy.”

  “Surely you tease me!”

  “No indeed! But you cannot be really unaware – his attentions have been so marked. He seems to think of no one but you – all his looks and words have been for none but you this evening.”

  “I am sure Sidney Parker has words for everyone,” Rebecca drawled. “Really, I think you quite mistaken, dear Mrs. Weston. No doubt seeing Emma’s success with Frank Churchill has made you think that one courtship may lead to another, but not in this case, I assure you.”

  Mrs. Weston frowned. “Oh – I am very sorry to hear it. I had really believed you to return his feelings.”

  “His feelings! Surely not!” Rebecca could not believe it – she had just begun to think Mr. Parker may have been truly attached to Georgiana, after all the comments he had made that seemed to suggest it. Could he have somehow transferred his affections to herself, without her perceiving it?

  “Oh dear,” Mrs. Weston said. “I hope I have not offended you, Lady Rebecca.”

  Rebecca laughed off her confusion. “Surely you know me better than that. In truth, I think it rather amusing, for I am sure he is no more attached to me than I to him. But I suppose it would do well for me to put him on his guard, just in case. One cannot be too careful!”

  “Well, here is your chance to practice,” Mrs. Weston whispered, for Sidney Parker was returning to her side once more, bearing refreshments.

  Mrs. Weston moved away, and Rebecca promptly sat down, lest Mr. Parker importune her to dance once more. He sat down beside her, and offered her a glass of punch. “I thought that you might like something to drink, since you do not mean to dance just now.”