Emma and the Werewolves (18 page)

“
A man,” said he, “must
have a very good opinion of himself when he asks people to leave
their own fireside, and encounter such a day as this, for the sake
of coming to see him. He must think himself a most agreeable
fellow; I could not do such a thing. It is the greatest
absurdity—Actually snowing at this moment! The folly of not
allowing people to be comfortable at home—and the folly of people’s
not staying comfortably at home when they can! If we were obliged
to go out such an evening as this, by any call of duty or business,
what a hardship we should deem it; and here are we, probably with
rather thinner clothing than usual, setting forward voluntarily,
without excuse, in defiance of the voice of nature, which tells
man, in every thing given to his view or his feelings, to stay at
home himself, and keep all under shelter that he can; here are we
setting forward to spend five dull hours in another man’s house,
with nothing to say or to hear that was not said and heard
yesterday, and may not be said and heard again to-morrow. Going in
dismal weather, to return probably in worse; four horses and four
servants taken out for nothing but to convey five idle, shivering
creatures into colder rooms and worse company than they might have
had at home.”

Emma did not find herself equal to give the
pleased assent, which no doubt he was in the habit of receiving, to
emulate the “Very true, my love,” which must have been usually
administered by his travelling companion; but she had resolution
enough to refrain from making any answer at all. She could not be
complying, she dreaded being quarrelsome; her heroism reached only
to silence. She allowed him to talk, and arranged the glasses, and
wrapped herself up, without opening her lips.

They arrived, the carriage
turned, the step was let down, and Mr. Elton, spruce, black, and
smiling, was with them instantly. Emma thought with pleasure of
some change of subject. Mr. Elton was all obligation and
cheerfulness; he was so very cheerful in his civilities indeed,
that she began to think he must have received a different account
of Harriet from what had reached her. She had sent while dressing,
and the answer had been, “Much the same—not better.”

“
My report from Mrs.
Goddard’s,” said she presently, “was not so pleasant as I had
hoped— ‘Not better’ was my answer.”

His face lengthened immediately; and his
voice was the voice of sentiment as he answered.

“
Oh! no—I am grieved to
find—I was on the point of telling you that when I called at Mrs.
Goddard’s door, which I did the very last thing before I returned
to dress, I was told that Miss Smith was not better, by no means
better, rather worse. Very much grieved and concerned—I had
flattered myself that she must be better after such a cordial as I
knew had been given her in the morning.”

Emma smiled and answered,
“My visit was of use to the nervous part of her complaint, I hope;
but not even I can charm away a sore throat; it is a most severe
cold indeed. Mr. Perry has been with her, as you probably
heard.”

“
Yes—I imagined—that is—I
did not—”

“
He has been used to her in
these complaints, and I hope to-morrow morning will bring us both a
more comfortable report. But it is impossible not to feel
uneasiness. Such a sad loss to our party to-day!”

“
Dreadful! Exactly so,
indeed. She will be missed every moment.”

This was very proper; the sigh which
accompanied it was really estimable; but it should have lasted
longer. Emma was rather in dismay when only half a minute
afterwards he began to speak of other things, and in a voice of the
greatest alacrity and enjoyment.

“
What an excellent device,”
said he, “the use of a sheepskin for carriages. How very
comfortable they make it; impossible to feel cold with such
precautions. The contrivances of modern days indeed have rendered a
gentleman’s carriage perfectly complete. One is so fenced and
guarded from the weather, that not a breath of air can find its way
unpermitted. Weather becomes absolutely of no consequence. It is a
very cold afternoon—but in this carriage we know nothing of the
matter. Ha! snows a little I see.”

“
Yes,” said John Knightley,
“and I think we shall have a good deal of it.”

“
Christmas weather,”
observed Mr. Elton. “Quite seasonable; and extremely fortunate we
may think ourselves that it did not begin yesterday, and prevent
this day’s party, which it might very possibly have done, for Mr.
Woodhouse would hardly have ventured had there been much snow on
the ground; but now it is of no consequence. This is quite the
season indeed for friendly meetings. At Christmas every body
invites their friends about them, and people think little of even
the worst weather. I was snowed up at a friend’s house once for a
week. Nothing could be pleasanter. I went for only one night, and
could not get away till that very day se’nnight.”

Mr. John Knightley looked as if he did not
comprehend the pleasure, but said only, coolly,

“
I cannot wish to be snowed
up a week at Randalls.”

At another time Emma might have been amused,
but she was too much astonished now at Mr. Elton’s spirits for
other feelings. Harriet seemed quite forgotten in the expectation
of a pleasant party.

“
We are sure of excellent
fires,” continued he, “and every thing in the greatest comfort.
Charming people, Mr. and Mrs. Weston; Mrs. Weston indeed is much
beyond praise, and he is exactly what one values, so hospitable,
and so fond of society; it will be a small party, but where small
parties are select, they are perhaps the most agreeable of any. Mr.
Weston’s dining-room does not accommodate more than ten
comfortably; and for my part, I would rather, under such
circumstances, fall short by two than exceed by two. I think you
will agree with me, (turning with a soft air to Emma,) I think I
shall certainly have your approbation, though Mr. Knightley
perhaps, from being used to the large parties of London, may not
quite enter into our feelings.”

“
I know nothing of the
large parties of London, sir—I never dine with any
body.”

“
Indeed! (in a tone of
wonder and pity,) I had no idea that the law had been so great a
slavery. Well, sir, the time must come when you will be paid for
all this, when you will have little labour and great
enjoyment.”

“
My first enjoyment,”
replied John Knightley, as they passed through the sweep-gate,
“will be to find myself safe at Hartfield again.”

* * * *

Chapter XIV

S
ome change of countenance
was
necessary for each gentleman as they walked into Mrs. Weston’s
drawing-room; Mr. Elton must compose his joyous looks, and Mr. John
Knightley disperse his ill-humour. Mr. Elton must smile less, and
Mr. John Knightley more, to fit them for the place. Emma only might
be as nature prompted, and shew herself just as happy as she was.
To her it was real enjoyment to be with the Westons. Mr. Weston was
a great favourite, and there was not a creature in the world to
whom she spoke with such unreserve, as to his wife; not any one, to
whom she related with such conviction of being listened to and
understood, of being always interesting and always intelligible,
the little affairs, arrangements, perplexities, and pleasures of
her father and herself. She could tell nothing of Hartfield, in
which Mrs. Weston had not a lively concern; and half an hour’s
uninterrupted communication of all those little matters on which
the daily happiness of private life depends, was one of the first
gratifications of each.

This was a pleasure which perhaps the whole
day’s visit might not afford, which certainly did not belong to the
present half-hour; but the very sight of Mrs. Weston, her smile,
her touch, her voice was grateful to Emma, and she determined to
think as little as possible of Mr. Elton’s oddities, or of any
thing else unpleasant, and enjoy all that was enjoyable to the
utmost.

The misfortune of Harriet’s cold had been
pretty well gone through before her arrival. Mr. Woodhouse had been
safely seated long enough to give the history of it, besides all
the history of his own and Isabella’s coming, and of Emma’s being
to follow, and had indeed just got to the end of his satisfaction
that James should come and see his daughter, when the others
appeared, and Mrs. Weston, who had been almost wholly engrossed by
her attentions to him, was able to turn away and welcome her dear
Emma.

Emma’s project of
forgetting Mr. Elton for a while made her rather sorry to find,
when they had all taken their places, that he was close to her. The
difficulty was great of driving his strange insensibility towards
Harriet, from her mind, while he not only sat at her elbow, but was
continually obtruding his happy countenance on her notice, and
solicitously addressing her upon every occasion. Instead of
forgetting him, his behaviour was such that she could not avoid the
internal suggestion of “Can it really be as my brother imagined?
can it be possible for this man to be beginning to transfer his
affections from Harriet to me? Absurd and insufferable!” Yet he
would be so anxious for her being perfectly warm, would be so
interested about her father, and so delighted with Mrs. Weston; and
at last would begin admiring her drawings with so much zeal and so
little knowledge as seemed terribly like a would-be lover, and made
it some effort with her to preserve her good manners. For her own
sake she could not be rude; and for Harriet’s, in the hope that all
would yet turn out right, she was even positively civil; but it was
an effort; especially as something was going on amongst the others,
in the most overpowering period of Mr. Elton’s nonsense, which she
particularly wished to listen to. She heard enough to know that Mr.
Weston was giving some information about his son; she heard the
words “my son,” and “Frank,” and “my son,” repeated several times
over; and, from a few other half-syllables very much suspected that
he was announcing an early visit from his son; but before she could
quiet Mr. Elton, the subject was so completely past that any
reviving question from her would have been awkward.

Now, it so happened that in
spite of Emma’s resolution of never marrying, there was something
in the name, in the idea of Mr. Frank Churchill, which always
interested her. She had frequently thought—especially since his
father’s marriage with Miss Taylor—that if she were to marry, he
was the very person to suit her in age, character and condition. He
seemed by this connexion between the families, quite to belong to
her. She could not but suppose it to be a match that every body who
knew them must think of. That Mr. and Mrs. Weston did think of it,
she was very strongly persuaded; and though not meaning to be
induced by him, or by any body else, to give up a situation which
she believed more replete with good than any she could change it
for, she had a great curiosity to see him, a decided intention of
finding him pleasant, of being liked by him to a certain degree,
and a sort of pleasure in the idea of their being coupled in their
friends’ imaginations.

With such sensations, Mr.
Elton’s civilities were dreadfully ill-timed; but she had the
comfort of appearing very polite, while feeling very cross—and of
thinking that the rest of the visit could not possibly pass without
bringing forward the same information again, or the substance of
it, from the open-hearted Mr. Weston. So it proved; for when
happily released from Mr. Elton, and seated by Mr. Weston, at
dinner, he made use of the very first interval in the cares of
hospitality, the very first leisure from the saddle of mutton, to
say to her,

“
We want only two more to
be just the right number. I should like to see two more here—your
pretty little friend, Miss Smith, and my son—and then I should say
we were quite complete. I believe you did not hear me telling the
others in the drawing-room that we are expecting Frank. I had a
letter from him this morning, and he will be with us within a
fortnight.”

Emma spoke with a very proper degree of
pleasure; and fully assented to his proposition of Mr. Frank
Churchill and Miss Smith making their party quite complete.

“
He has been wanting to
come to us,” continued Mr. Weston, “ever since September: every
letter has been full of it; but he cannot command his own time. He
has those to please who must be pleased, and who (between
ourselves) are sometimes to be pleased only by a good many
sacrifices. But now I have no doubt of seeing him here about the
second week in January.”

“
What a very great pleasure
it will be to you! and Mrs. Weston is so anxious to be acquainted
with him, that she must be almost as happy as yourself.”

“
Yes, she would be, but
that she thinks there will be another put-off. She does not depend
upon his coming so much as I do: but she does not know the parties
so well as I do. The case, you see, is—(but this is quite between
ourselves: I did not mention a syllable of it in the other room.
There are secrets in all families, you know)—The case is, that a
party of friends are invited to pay a visit at Enscombe in January;
and that Frank’s coming depends upon their being put off. If they
are not put off, he cannot stir. But I know they will, because it
is a family that a certain lady, of some consequence, at Enscombe,
has a particular dislike to: and though it is thought necessary to
invite them once in two or three years, they always are put off
when it comes to the point. I have not the smallest doubt of the
issue. I am as confident of seeing Frank here before the middle of
January, as I am of being here myself: but your good friend there
(nodding towards the upper end of the table) has so few vagaries
herself, and has been so little used to them at Hartfield, that she
cannot calculate on their effects, as I have been long in the
practice of doing.”