The walk was to be curtailed a little since walking with a squelching foot is never comfortable, and Emma did not wish to be accused by her sister of neglecting her treasures – who thrived quite happily on a little healthy neglect when Isabella was not overseeing their every move – and it was still cold enough to make John feel cold all over for having wet feet. Especially as he had decided that as one foot was wet anyway he might as well jump hard in the puddle with both feet.
They were returning – the boys were lagging behind – when Emma groaned to see a handsome woman come round the corner towards them.
“Augusta Elton!” she said in a low tone full of dismay.
Prudence had time to gather that this was not one of Emma’s bosom friends before the vicar’s wife was upon them.
“Ah, my dear Mrs Knightley
,” she said in the acid tones that belied the cordiality of the words. “This I presume is your nephew’s governess; pray dismiss her, for I wish to speak with you about this extraordinary tale that I have heard of your father taking in some foundling weaver’s brat of who knows what origin…. If there is any suggestion that his faculties are failing you must know that you have my support lest you end up disinherited by some unexpected stepmother!”
“I beg your pardon, Madam
,” said Prudence, coldly “But when you presume me to be Henry and John’s governess, you presume too much and wrongly. And I find your gossiping over matters you have either half heard, or half understood, rather nauseating.”
Augusta Elton stared, her mouth falling open.
“Oh? And
who
might
you
be?” she demanded. The tone was barely short of rudeness.
Emma smiled a brittle, spiteful smile.
“Mrs Elton, do permit me to introduce my Cousin Prudence, Miss Blenkinsop that is, daughter of my father’s sister; her father is a Mill owner. This is the er weaver’s brat but I assure you, her origins are as well known to our family as mine are.”
Prudence dropped a curtsey deep enough for politeness’ sake and held out a hand. Mrs Elton had little choice but to do likewise and they brushed fingertips with frigid politeness.
“Indeed,” said Mrs Elton, two spots of angry and embarrassed colour burning on her cheekbones, “and is Mr Woodhouse to pay for bringing Miss Blenkinsop into society as rumour also states?”
“Most certainly not, Mrs Elton
,” said Prudence, “why should that be necessary? A London Season is perfectly within my father’s own budget; he merely asks for the chaperonage of my family for the same. I daresay it will cost no more than two thousand guineas which is hardly difficult to find is it?” she smiled brightly.
Mrs Elton’s face burned still darker and her nose was white and pinched; her fortune was, by the standards of many, considerable; but the ten thousand pounds she had in Funds brought an income of just five hundred pounds a year, a comfortable competence but not of the standard to consider saving so much just for a London Season! Even her sister Selina would not consider spending out so much for any daughter she might have when such was old enough! She almost audibly ground her teeth and said,
“How pleased I am that gossip has been inaccurate and that dear Mr Woodhouse is not in any way embarrassed! How fortunate you are, Mrs Knightley to have a cousin whose father thinks nothing of squandering two thousand guineas on an empty and hollow social ritual! I do trust you will not fritter away your own fortune in trying to maintain even appearances with Miss er, Blenkinsop.”
“Oh I have enough savings put away to do my duty as a chaperone, thank you Mrs Elton
,” said Emma, hiding her own irritation manfully. It was true enough; her expenses scarcely came close to her income, for the family lived frugally; and there was dear George’s income as well, not perhaps as large as Emma’s but sufficient to see that they might live in excellent style and comfortably with monies left over. Emma considered it most ill-bred to discuss such things; but as Augusta Elton had brought the matter up she could hardly fault Prudence for making so fine a riposte. It was implicit in Mr Blenkinsop’s letter too that he expected his note of hand to be used to cover any expenses incurred on his daughter’s account too, but Emma was quite determined to emphasise her own fortune too.
“Oh Pru, you routed her as successfully as Lord Wellington routed Boney at
Waterloo!” she declared in delight as soon as Mrs Elton was out of earshot.
Prudence frowned.
“My governess taught me that it is vulgar to discuss money and to dwell upon it; are you certain I did right? She angered me; her expressions of sympathy towards Uncle Henry were no such thing, and though I find myself sometimes out of charity with him for his assumptions, yet I love him well for his kindness to me.”
“Mrs Elton IS vulgar
,” said Emma, “her father was some kind of cit I believe; and she considers that her moderate fortune gives her class. You have fortune but your excellent governess has also taught you how to be a lady like your mother; and as your father desires only what is best for you, why then he is if not a gentleman in fact, I think then he is a gentleman in instinct and so your mother realised when she fell in love with him. Your reference was exact enough and yet offhand enough not to be a vulgar dwelling upon your fortune. Will your father advance you more funds if you do find yourself with your pockets to let? It IS a matter which has to be addressed, I am afraid,” she added apologetically.
“My father has written to his bank instructing them to permit me to draw upon his funds within it at my need up to a limit
,” said Prudence, “as I shall probably wish to purchase a horse to go hacking in the park and it is sensible to purchase one in London rather than bring my own riding horse all the way from Yorkshire. I am……” she paused, “I am permitted, if it will not offend you, to purchase anything that is necessary that would be an expense incurred that you would not have were you not so kind as to accompany me.”
Emma kissed her.
“Well in that spirit of generosity, we shall see how we do!” she said. “And now we had better get these damp boys back before it rains again and we are all as wet as John’s stockings!”
The wetting was duly avoided and the boys were smuggled up to their nursery maids who collaborated cheerfully over the matter of damp feet, though John was made to have a hot bath for his pains. Such an activity never being popular with small boys it was born upon him forcibly that had he merely had one foot wet he might have got away with it but deliberate wetting of both brought its own consequences.
“They are delightful children,” said Prudence wistfully, “I wish I might have had little brothers and sisters.”
“Why, you are as close to being their aunt as may be
,” said Emma, “and they shall love you too! And being cousins as they are my nephews and nieces, it is quite easy to hand them back when one is tired of them, as one may not so easily do with one’s own children; for though nursery maids take most of the burden of caring for them, mama is always the one needed at bedtime, or when they are ill I should think! And missing our own mothers as we do, you and I will doubtless wish to be model mothers when it is our time, that our children have what we have lacked.”
“There is much in what you say
,” said Prudence, much struck. “Do you and Cousin George yet hope…..”
Emma flushed.
“Oh Pru! I am not quite sure yet!” she whispered “I was hoping to speak to Isabella as she is an experienced matron!”
“Why then, it is the easiest thing!” said Prudence “When I have been showing her my paintings for some minutes, join us and I shall slip away and engage the gentlemen in conversation to give you time alone with her.”
Emma kissed her cousin affectionately.
“You are full of excellent schemes dear cousin!” she said.
If Isabella was interested in the watercolours she was even more interested in her sister’s shy communications of her hopes.
“But poor Emma!” she said “You cannot racket about in Town in such a condition! You will wear yourself to a rag, blue-devilled in an instant!”
“It will only be for two months, Isabella,” scoffed Emma, “you know that I am quite rudely healthy; I think that fretting over letting down Prudence, our poor Aunt Lizzie’s girl would be far worse for my constitution; for a whirl of gaiety does not fill me with the dismay I fear you feel over the prospect!”
“
Poor
Prudence,” said Isabella, “I fear that you are right….she has been trusted to our care and we have her wellbeing as our responsibility; and certainly I cannot manage to put myself about society. My health would not stand it!”
Emma smiled to herself; she was learning how to deal with Isabella’s megrims!
Chapter 8
The dinner party with the Westons went extremely well; Mrs Weston was such a sweet person, reflected Emma, that the evening could hardly proceed in any fashion but well. And Mr Woodhouse had his game of Backgammon for his evening entertainment. It was a splendidly comfortable evening; and the last time for a while that so quiet and convivial an evening should be spent at home! Emma heaved half a sigh.
“Regretting the decision to go to London, my dear?” asked George quietly.
“Oh! No!” said
Emma, “but storing up thoughts of those things I must surely miss, to refresh my spirits in dwelling on them when there are such things that are fraught with excess and fatigue. And there is that too which I may have hoped to contemplate purely amongst the family…. My dear George, when we are alone tonight there is something I wish to communicate to you particularly.”
George Knightley, being a man who knew how many beans made five, was not entirely surprised at the news Emma had to communicate to him in the private darkness of their bedroom; there had been certain clues after all, not least her long talk with her sister. He managed however to sound as astounded as he was delighted; for delighted he was.
“Poor little Henry will no longer inherit Donwell Abbey if we have children,” sighed Emma.
“And as the child of a younger son nor should he be expecting to do so
,” said George. “Now unless my heir is likely to object, Mrs Knightley, I have a great desire to celebrate this excellent news.”
Emma giggled.
“Well as there has been no objection so far, my dear Mr Knightley, I cannot think that your heir has yet the faculty to notice and be unduly resentful of your attentions to his mother,” she said.
Since there was to be no more coherent conversation, it avails the gentle reader little to remain within to listen.
The next morning saw Emma and George and Prudence removing to London in two coaches; they would only need to take a minimum of servants since John and Isabella did not bring their servants with them; so Emma’s and Prudence’s maids and the grooms who drove the carriages – one of which was of course the faithful Joseph with Prudence’s carriage – were all who would be required, since Isabella employed a rather superior sort of cook well able to cater to a delicate constitution and yet produce a meal that might be suitable for any dinner guests John might feel it necessary to entertain. In addition there was a butler, a parlourmaid and such staff below stairs as the cook – who also did duty as housekeeper – deemed necessary.
The two hour journey was soon over with excited chatter between the two young women to while away the time, George listening indulgently with a tolerant smile on his face. He did not expect to enjoy himself on his own behalf so well as Emma might but his enjoyment came in seeing her happy. This would really be the last time Emma might let her hair down since her incipient motherhood would put paid to as much expectation of frivolity; and he hoped that she would enjoy herself enough to have the memory and would feel that motherhood was worth laying aside the last remnants of her girlhood.
He smiled.
Emma, bless her, would throw herself into motherhood with the same enthusiasm with which she embarked on any project; and doubtless would forget to be a staid matron in teaching her infant to slide down hay in the barn and helping a toddling child to take its first steps in climbing trees.
Nothing could ever prepare the uninitiated to the sensory assault that was
London!
The noise was incredible; carriage wheels rumbled, horses’ hooves clopped, costers sang out their wares in strident tones to catch the attention; loud voices argued, men shouting, women screeching, horses neighing.
The coach window only imperfectly shut out the assault upon the nostrils of the smells of the horses and the multitude effusions of the waste of an uncounted number of people discarded in the streets.
“Hark!” said Prudence at a particularly strangled sounding neigh “Is that the dulcet tones of Mrs Elton?”
Emma giggled.
“Well I should think she IS a nag
,” she said. “Poor Mr Elton!”
“Perhaps if she is shrill enough saying him ‘neigh’ it m
ay make her a little hoarse….” punned Prudence.