Magic and Matchmaking: A variation of Emma volume 1 (The Jane Austen Fairy Tales)

by Nina Clare

  ‘Oh, how pretty,’ Harriet exclaimed as the carriage Master Woodhouse had so kindly sent for them rumbled down the drive to the manor house. ‘Oh, I saw a deer, just there, in those trees. Oh, what a pretty stream, oh, look at all those larkspurs, I do so like larkspur, and what are those over there? Those pretty pink and peach ones?’

  ‘Gerbera,’ said Mother Goodword. ‘And those are gladioli, godetia, and the frothy white ones are gypsophila. One of the garden gnomes took it upon himself to learn his letters, and now he plants all the beds in alphabetical patterns.’

  ’Gladioli are my favourite! The lawns are so very green. So many flowers, and so late in the year, is it magic?’

  ‘They have excellent gnomes here,’ replied Mother Goodword. ‘They keep the grounds very well, and the Green Man’s influence keeps everything flourishing.’

  ‘Oh, it’s so much bigger than I thought it would be. Look how high Mistress Woodhouse’s tower is! And so many windows in the house, they look so pretty with the sun shining on them as it goes down. They look as if they were made of fairy gold.’

  The carriage circled to a halt before the manor entrance.

  ‘Master Woodhouse has requested that I bring you through the Great Hall, so do not be alarmed by standing under the Green Man,’ Mother Goodword warned. ‘It is quite usual for persons to stand under him the first time they enter Hartfield. And it is an honour.’

  Harriet nodded. She had curled her hair especially for this visit, and her fair curls bounced with her enthusiasm. The carriage door was opened by Master Woodhouse’s coachman, and Harriet bounded out.

  Harriet gave a little gasp at the carving that greeted them as they stepped into the Great Hall. It filled the vast wall – a carving of the Green Man – a great giant, surrounded by fruit and flowers and birds and woodland creatures. He had many names, as Harriet and everyone in Highbury knew. He was the Green Man, the Wild Man of the Woods, the Lord of May, the Forest Guardian. She dared to look again at the carving, desiring to see if his beautiful consort was to be seen. Harriet could just perceive her. She stood beyond the Green Man, glimpsed, as though in a distant view, but there she was: The Green Lady. Harriet knew she was distant, because it was the month of October, and the Green Lady, who was also the queen of May, was far from her consort at this time of year. On May Day they would come together in Faerie, as in a wedding ceremony, to usher in the new season of spring.

  The face the Green Man bore was uncannily real, and yet so wild and fae, at the same time. ‘Is he watching me?’ she whispered, shrinking back beside Mother Goodword. ‘He looks cross.’

  She scanned the wall for any sign of the Door. She knew the Door to Faerie was in this ancient hall somewhere. Master Woodhouse, the Wild Man Guardian, could enter into Faerie when he was summoned by the Green Man. But in all her years in Highbury, Harriet had never heard of Master Woodhouse actually going forth into Faerie. It was said that such a thing was not needed, for the days of an open border between Highbury and Faerie had been closed for a full generation. It was something to do with the Witch of the Woods, but there were too many stories for Harriet to know which was the true one. She had never liked stories with wicked witches or darkling folk. She preferred the fair folk stories of beautiful elves and delightful sprites and the pleasant lands of the Green Lady and her wondrous palace.

  Harriet’s attention was now distracted by a real figure walking across the hall, her form slight and slender against the giant on the wall, her gown white and gauzy, and a single white flower tucked into her magnificent crown of braids. She looked bright and fresh against the walls of dark, ancient wood.

  ‘You are welcome, Mother Goodword,’ said the lady of the manor, coming forward to greet her guests. ‘Please share in the bounty of Hartfield and give only a word of thanks in return.’

  Mother Goodword bowed her head as a sign of assent. The ancient Guardian greeting was very solemn. Even Harriet’s excited energy was subdued as the weighty feel of the Green Man’s power settled on them.

  ‘May I introduce Sister Harriet and ask for Hartfield to share its bounty and extend its blessing upon her,’ said Mother Goodword, giving Harriet a touch on her elbow to usher her forward.

  ‘Please stand before the Green Man, Sister Harriet,’ said Mistress Woodhouse, extending an arm towards the great carving. ‘He shall judge you meet or otherwise to be welcomed.’

  Harriet stepped forward to stand beneath the fierce face of the Green Man, and she paled a little, her light blue eyes wide with apprehension.

  ‘Fear not,’ the lady of the manor said. ‘Do you come with open hands and heart, Sister Harriet?’

  ‘I do,’ said Harriet, opening her hands with palms up, just as she had been told by Mother Goodword to do.

  ‘Do you come with an eye that looks for good, an ear that listens for truth, a tongue that refrains from evil?’

  ‘I do,’ said Harriet with as much seriousness as she could muster.

  ‘Then you are welcome, Sister Harriet,’ concluded the lady of the manor, with a gracious smile. ‘Please share in the bounty of Hartfield and give only a word of thanks in return. The spirit of the Green Man has found you fit and meet to partake of his hospitality.’

  Harriet moved quickly away, relieved to be released from the stern gaze above her. She returned to Mother Goodword’s side, her expression one of relief, and Mother Goodword gave her a look of gentle warning, to remind her not to burst into one of her nervous giggling fits at the close of this welcoming ceremony. Harriet understood her, and put a fluttering hand to her mouth to silence herself as they now followed Mistress Woodhouse across the Great Hall and down a corridor and into a spacious drawing room with arched beams overhead.

  ‘I have offered the blessing to our new guest, Papa,’ Mistress Woodhouse said to the elderly man in the chair near the fire. ‘And he has been glad to receive her.’

  ‘Oh, that is very good, my dear,’ said Master Woodhouse, ‘let me see her, oh, she is very pretty. Come here, my dear. What is your name? Maid Harriet. You are welcome, Maid Harriet, Hartfield will share its bounty with you, it is very glad to. Go and sit next to Emma on the couch there, she will look after you, she looks after everyone. Ah, Mother Goodword, you are welcome, come and sit by me, just here, let Emma help you to a little glass of wine, we must not neglect to taste the bounty.’

  Harriet returned home to her garret bedroom, perched on the edge of her bed and sighed with contentment. A soft tap at the door sounded, and Rue’s sun-browned face appeared in her nightcap. Harriet beckoned her in. Rue had barely closed the door behind her when it opened again, and Myrtle tiptoed in, looking theatrical in her white nightgown with her long black hair round her shoulders.

  ‘So what was it like up at the manor?’ asked Rue, putting her candle on the dressing table and sitting on the stool.

  ‘Did you go up to the tower?’ Myrtle asked.

  ‘What was she like?’ said Rue. ‘And what did you eat?’

  ‘Oh, it was the most wonderful evening. I did not go up to the tower, but I did stand under the Green Man, the ancient Green Man, only imagine!’

  ‘The Green Man,’ said Myrtle longingly.

  ‘The Green Man!’ Rue’s brown eyes widened. ‘Blundering Bearcubs, they say it’s a right honour to get the blessing under the Green Man, and no one can stand there if they’re not right and honest.’

  ‘I was accepted,’ said Harriet happily. ‘I was so nervous, for I remembered all the stories about the Green Man seeing into you and knowing if you were a truthful person or not, and I thought I should die of fear when I stood there for what felt like ages before Mistress Woodhouse spoke.’ She shivered at the remembrance and then giggled nervously, putting her hands to her mouth to stifle the noise, that she might not waken the boarders in the next room.

  ‘Did you see the Door into Faerie?’ Myrtle wanted to know.

  Harriet shook her head.

  ‘What was Lady Bountiful like?’ asked Rue. ‘Was she uppity
or friendly?’

  ‘Mistress Woodhouse is the most charming person in the whole world,’ declared Harriet. ‘She was so very affable. I could hardly believe it. She asked me so many questions about myself and what I did at the school, and I told her all about my visit to the Martins this summer, and she was so kind and actually shook hands with me when I left.’

  ‘And what did you eat?’ pressed Rue.

  ‘Oh, ever so many nice things. There was scalloped oyster and minced chicken and tiny little eggs, they keep such pretty little bantams at Hartfield, quite as pretty as Mistress Martin’s hens, and there was apple tart and custard, and the apples were Donwell apples, and were so very delicious, and there was wine and little sweets and everything so elegant-looking on pretty plates and the wineglasses were crystal, imagine!’

  ‘Scalloped oyster,’ sighed Rue. ‘Donwell apple tart and custard… oh, Merciful Mushrooms, what I wouldn’t give for a bowl of tart and custard right now.’

  ‘What is Master Woodhouse like?’ asked Myrtle. ‘He looks so tame when he passes by in his carriage, he doesn’t look like the Wild Man Guardian ought to look.’

  Harriet thought for a moment of how to describe Master Woodhouse. ‘He does not seem very wild, to be sure. He was very kind. Quite the gentleman.’

  ‘And is it true that Mistress Woodhouse is considering studying to become a Godmother?’ Myrtle asked.

  ‘Yes, to be sure.’ Harriet nodded excitedly. ‘And I am to go to Hartfield again tomorrow after breakfast to talk to her all about it.’ She gave a burst of giggles. ‘Just think – two visits in two days!’

  5

  Lady Patroness

  It was a relief to Harriet that she did not have to stand before the Green Man again when she arrived at Hartfield. She did arrive rather breathless and a little dishevelled, for she had gotten distracted several times in admiring the grounds, and then had to make up the lost time by running the last part, but the flowers and shrubs were so lovely, and even the carriageway was so pretty, for the gravel had quartz and mica mixed in with it, so that it sparkled in the soft morning light and looked like a path straight into Faerie.

  She had been told the previous evening to come in by the door at the side of the house which led into the family’s less formal hallway. It was not so imposing as the Great Hall, and there was no carved giant on the wall watching her and weighing her worth. There was a small carving of the Green Man in his Wild Man form above a side table. A footman assisted her with her cloak, and solemnly hung it up. She smoothed down her hair as best she could, tucking a wayward curl back under her wide band of ribbon.

  Mistress Woodhouse’s luxurious mass of hair was likely never untidy, Harriet thought as the Lady of the Manor came to meet her, looking as fresh and neat and perfect as was possible. Harriet bowed politely, and managed to stifle down a nervous giggle.

  ‘Good morning, Sister Harriet, I am glad you could come.’

  ‘Oh, good morning, Mistress Woodhouse, and I am so very glad to be invited.’

  Mistress Woodhouse returned Harriet’s smile, but Mistress Woodhouse’s smile was not a wide grin, making little dimples in each cheek, Mistress Woodhouse’s smile was perfectly elegant.

  ‘My father is taking his morning turns about the grounds,’ said Mistress Woodhouse, gesturing for Harriet to walk with her. ‘We shall sit in the morning room. I have so many questions to ask you, I hope you do not mind?’

  ‘Oh no, indeed!’ said Harriet, tripping along beside Mistress Woodhouse, whose stride was a little longer than Harriet’s for Mistress Woodhouse was quite tall and Harriet was not.

  ‘Oh, what a pretty room,’ exclaimed Harriet. She moved to a large window and stood for a moment sighing happily at the view of the gardens. The well-wrapped up figure of Master Woodhouse could be glimpsed between foliage, walking slowly along a shrub-lined path. He carried his Wild Man staff, but Harriet noted that he bore it as though it were a genteel walking stick rather than a sign of authority.

  ‘It is my favourite room to sit in during the day,’ said Mistress Woodhouse, taking a seat and beckoning Harriet to sit on the elegant little chair opposite. ‘Not that I sit very much during the day, I would sooner be active. I spend much of the evening sitting with my father, so it suits me to be busy the rest of the time. But for now, I am happy to sit a while with you, Harriet, and hear all about becoming a Godmother.’

  Harriet took her seat. ‘Oh, Mistress Woodhouse, can you really mean to become a Godmother?’

  ‘Why should that be surprising?’

  ‘Oh, only that you are so beautiful, and I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, Mistress Woodhouse, but you seem to me to be just the kind of lady who should marry someone very handsome and rich, like a prince or a duke, you know?’

  Mistress Woodhouse gave a little laugh, her hazel eyes crinkling a little. ‘As I do not know any handsome princes or dukes, that is not a likely scenario. I shall not leave my father nor Hartfield. I have a great deal to occupy me here as the mistress, and my position as Lady Bountiful, and I believe becoming a Godmother would suit me very well. So, pray tell me all about it.’

  ‘Well…’ Harriet thought how best to start. ‘There is quite a lot of work and studying involved. First you learn how to manage small magic, such as good words, little blessings, little spells, and then you begin learning weather craft and all about herbs and roots and such things that can be helpful for small healings, oh, and riddles – learning riddles and rhymes are very helpful in spell making – there is a book in the library with more than three hundred riddles! To graduate from Sister to Godmother one has to learn lots of other things, such as matchmaking and birth blessings and so on.’

  ‘I like the sound of matchmaking,’ said Mistress Woodhouse. ‘I do so love to bring about a wedding.’

  ‘Oh, so do I,’ said Harriet. ‘Though I think it is all much harder than it sounds. We are all wondering over who our wards should be matched with. It feels like quite a riddle to me.’

  ‘And who is your ward, Harriet?’

  ‘Oh, I must not say. Mother Goodword says that we must be absolutely careful where secrets of the heart are concerned.’

  ‘And what does one do when one has reached the rank of a Godmother?’

  ‘Well…’ Harriet thought hard. ‘There are General Godmothers, and then there are different kinds of guardians at higher grades.’

  ‘Such as the county Wisewoman, I suppose.’

  ‘To be sure, but also there are the Grand Godmothers, they are quite powerful and do not need a wand like the Godmothers do. The Grand Godmothers are in charge of the Godmothers, while the Wisewomen are more in charge of looking after the land and nature and things, and then there are the Royal Guardians, they are very high up Godmothers, they have wings and can turn into other forms, and they can help stop wars and things. And there are other kinds of guardians, such as weather watchers and border guardians, and every Godmother has some special gift, such as birth blessings, healings, protections, animal speaking, and, oh, so many other things.’

  Harriet took a deep breath after she had finished her long speech. Mistress Woodhouse looked thoughtful and said, ‘I am quite certain I should be well suited to being a Royal Guardian, although—’ she broke off and looked towards the window where her father was walking in the shrubbery beyond. ‘Do Royal Guardians have to travel about the kingdom?’

  ‘I do not know,’ Harriet admitted. ‘I’ve never met a Royal Guardian. They have wings, when they want them. And they can pass in and out of Faerie. I suppose they do travel about quite a bit.’

  ‘Then that will not do. Perhaps I shall settle with making matches for now. That sounds like a pleasant occupation. I shall ask Mother Goodword to begin my studies immediately. When I make up my mind to do something, I like to begin without delay.’

  There was an interruption, as a house gnomess came in with a tray of tea things. ‘Thank you, Haply,’ said Mistress Woodhouse. ‘I shall pour the tea.’

  Haply
nodded her bob-capped head and trotted out again.

  The tea was served, and Mistress Woodhouse sat regarding Harriet intently for a minute. ‘How is it you do not wish to marry, Harriet?’ she asked, still looking at Harriet as though she were examining a portrait before her. ‘You complimented me on my beauty, but you must know that you have a delightful beauty of your own.’

  Harriet blushed and dimpled and laughed into her teacup.

  ‘When did you know that you were going to choose the life of a Godmother?’

  Harriet’s expression showed her confusion at this question. ‘Well… I cannot rightly say… I suppose I always thought I would be just like Mother Goodword. She is the best person in all the world. And I’m very fond of the children at the school. I love to teach them. I cannot imagine being anywhere else.’

  ‘How is it that you do not have an acolyte name, as the other Sisters do?’

  Harriet’s confusion deepened. ‘I do not know exactly. Mother Goodword says that the Council have yet to give me one. She says there is still some question over my calling that must be settled.’ Her head drooped over her cup. ‘I think it is because I am not a very good student,’ she said. ‘I’m a little afraid of magic. But I’m determined to do better this year.’

  Mistress Woodhouse looked animated at this news, as though it inspired an interesting and exciting thought.

  ‘I have just had a delightful idea, Harriet.’ Her lovely smile flashed across her face as though a sprite had just whispered the delightful idea into her ear. ‘My idea is that your future is not yet decided, because you may yet have the future of marriage before you. What do you say to that?’