Emma and the Werewolves (19 page)

“
I am sorry there should be
any thing like doubt in the case,” replied Emma; “but am disposed
to side with you, Mr. Weston. If you think he will come, I shall
think so too; for you know Enscombe.”

“
Yes—I have some right to
that knowledge; though I have never been at the place in my life.
She is an odd woman! But I never allow myself to speak ill of her,
on Frank’s account; for I do believe her to be very fond of him. I
used to think she was not capable of being fond of any body, except
herself: but she has always been kind to him (in her way—allowing
for little whims and caprices, and expecting every thing to be as
she likes). And it is no small credit, in my opinion, to him, that
he should excite such an affection; for, though I would not say it
to any body else, she has no more heart than a stone to people in
general; and the devil of a temper.”

Emma liked the subject so
well, that she began upon it, to Mrs. Weston, very soon after their
moving into the drawing-room: wishing her joy—yet observing, that
she knew the first meeting must be rather alarming. Mrs. Weston
agreed to it; but added, that she should be very glad to be secure
of undergoing the anxiety of a first meeting at the time talked of:
“for I cannot depend upon his coming. I cannot be so sanguine as
Mr. Weston. I am very much afraid that it will all end in nothing.
Mr. Weston, I dare say, has been telling you exactly how the matter
stands?”

“
Yes—it seems to depend
upon nothing but the ill-humour of Mrs. Churchill, which I imagine
to be the most certain thing in the world.”

“
My Emma!” replied Mrs.
Weston, smiling, “what is the certainty of caprice?” Then turning
to Isabella, who had not been attending before, “You must know, my
dear Mrs. Knightley, that we are by no means so sure of seeing Mr.
Frank Churchill, in my opinion, as his father thinks. It depends
entirely upon his aunt’s spirits and pleasure; in short, upon her
temper. To you—to my two daughters—I may venture on the truth. Mrs.
Churchill rules at Enscombe, and is a very odd-tempered woman; and
his coming now, depends upon her being willing to spare
him.”

“
Oh, Mrs. Churchill; every
body knows Mrs. Churchill,” replied Isabella: “and I am sure I
never think of that poor young man without the greatest compassion.
To be constantly living with an ill-tempered person, must be
dreadful. It is what we happily have never known any thing of; but
it must be a life of misery. What a blessing, that she never had
any children! Poor little creatures, how unhappy she would have
made them!”

Emma wished she had been alone with Mrs.
Weston. She should then have heard more: Mrs. Weston would speak to
her, with a degree of unreserve which she would not hazard with
Isabella; and, she really believed, would scarcely try to conceal
any thing relative to the Churchills from her, excepting those
views on the young man, of which her own imagination had already
given her such instinctive knowledge. But at present there was
nothing more to be said. Mr. Woodhouse very soon followed them into
the drawing-room. To be sitting long after dinner, was a
confinement that he could not endure. Neither wine nor conversation
was any thing to him; and gladly did he move to those with whom he
was always comfortable.

While he talked to Isabella, however, Emma
found an opportunity of saying,

“
And so you do not consider
this visit from your son as by any means certain. I am sorry for
it. The introduction must be unpleasant, whenever it takes place;
and the sooner it could be over, the better.”

“
Yes; and every delay makes
one more apprehensive of other delays. Even if this family, the
Braithwaites, are put off, I am still afraid that some excuse may
be found for disappointing us. I cannot bear to imagine any
reluctance on his side; but I am sure there is a great wish on the
Churchills’ to keep him to themselves. There is jealousy. They are
jealous even of his regard for his father. In short, I can feel no
dependence on his coming, and I wish Mr. Weston were less
sanguine.”

“
He ought to come,” said
Emma. “If he could stay only a couple of days, he ought to come;
and one can hardly conceive a young man’s not having it in his
power to do as much as that. A young woman, if she fall into bad
hands, may be teazed, and kept at a distance from those she wants
to be with; but one cannot comprehend a young man’s being under
such restraint, as not to be able to spend a week with his father,
if he likes it.”

“
One ought to be at
Enscombe, and know the ways of the family, before one decides upon
what he can do,” replied Mrs. Weston. “One ought to use the same
caution, perhaps, in judging of the conduct of any one individual
of any one family; but Enscombe, I believe, certainly must not be
judged by general rules: she is so very unreasonable; and every
thing gives way to her.”

“
But she is so fond of the
nephew: he is so very great a favourite. Now, according to my idea
of Mrs. Churchill, it would be most natural, that while she makes
no sacrifice for the comfort of the husband, to whom she owes every
thing, while she exercises incessant caprice towards him, she
should frequently be governed by the nephew, to whom she owes
nothing at all.”

“
My dearest Emma, do not
pretend, with your sweet temper, to understand a bad one, or to lay
down rules for it: you must let it go its own way. I have no doubt
of his having, at times, considerable influence; but it may be
perfectly impossible for him to know beforehand when it will
be.”

Emma listened, and then
coolly said, “I shall not be satisfied, unless he
comes.”

“
He may have a great deal
of influence on some points,” continued Mrs. Weston, “and on
others, very little: and among those, on which she is beyond his
reach, it is but too likely, may be this very circumstance of his
coming away from them to visit us.”

* * * *

Chapter XV

M
r.
Woodhouse was soon
ready for his tea; and
when he had drank his tea he was quite ready to go home; and it was
as much as his three companions could do, to entertain away his
notice of the lateness of the hour, before the other gentlemen
appeared. Mr. Weston was chatty and convivial, and no friend to
early separations of any sort; but at last the drawing-room party
did receive an augmentation. Mr. Elton, in very good spirits, was
one of the first to walk in. Mrs. Weston and Emma were sitting
together on a sofa. He joined them immediately, and, with scarcely
an invitation, seated himself between them.

Emma, in good spirits too, from the
amusement afforded her mind by the expectation of Mr. Frank
Churchill, was willing to forget his late improprieties, and be as
well satisfied with him as before, and on his making Harriet his
very first subject, was ready to listen with most friendly
smiles.

He professed himself
extremely anxious about her fair friend—her fair, lovely, amiable
friend. “Did she know? had she heard any thing about her, since
their being at Randalls? he felt much anxiety—he must confess that
the nature of her complaint alarmed him considerably.” And in this
style he talked on for some time very properly, not much attending
to any answer, but altogether sufficiently awake to the terror of a
bad sore throat; and Emma was quite in charity with him.

But at last there seemed a
perverse turn; it seemed all at once as if he were more afraid of
its being a bad sore throat on her account, than on Harriet’s—more
anxious that she should escape the infection, than that there
should be no infection in the complaint. He began with great
earnestness to entreat her to refrain from visiting the
sick-chamber again, for the present—to entreat her to promise him
not to venture into such hazard till he had seen Mr. Perry and
learnt his opinion; and though she tried to laugh it off and bring
the subject back into its proper course, there was no putting an
end to his extreme solicitude about her. She was vexed. It did
appear—there was no concealing it—exactly like the pretence of
being in love with her, instead of Harriet; an inconstancy, if
real, the most contemptible and abominable! and she had difficulty
in behaving with temper. He turned to Mrs. Weston to implore her
assistance, “Would not she give him her support? would not she add
her persuasions to his, to induce Miss Woodhouse not to go to Mrs.
Goddard’s till it were certain that Miss Smith’s disorder had no
infection? He could not be satisfied without a promise—would not
she give him her influence in procuring it?”

“
So scrupulous for others,”
he continued, “and yet so careless for herself! She wanted me to
nurse my cold by staying at home to-day, and yet will not promise
to avoid the danger of catching an ulcerated sore throat herself.
Is this fair, Mrs. Weston? Judge between us. Have not I some right
to complain? I am sure of your kind support and aid.”

Emma saw Mrs. Weston’s
surprize, and felt that it must be great, at an address which, in
words and manner, was assuming to himself the right of first
interest in her; and as for herself, she was too much provoked and
offended to have the power of directly saying any thing to the
purpose. She could only give him a look; but it was such a look as
she thought must restore him to his senses, and then left the sofa,
removing to a seat by her sister, and giving her all her
attention.

She had not time to know how Mr. Elton took
the reproof, so rapidly did another subject succeed; for Mr. John
Knightley now came into the room from examining the weather, and
opened on them all with the information of the ground being covered
with snow, and of its still snowing fast, with a strong drifting
wind; concluding with these words to Mr. Woodhouse:

“
This will prove a spirited
beginning of your winter engagements, sir. Something new for your
coachman and horses to be making their way through a storm of
snow.”

Poor Mr. Woodhouse was silent from
consternation; but every body else had something to say; every body
was either surprized or not surprized, and had some question to
ask, or some comfort to offer. Mrs. Weston and Emma tried earnestly
to cheer him and turn his attention from his son-in-law, who was
pursuing his triumph rather unfeelingly.

“
I admired your resolution
very much, sir,” said he, “in venturing out in such weather, for of
course you saw there would be snow very soon. Every body must have
seen the snow coming on. I admired your spirit; and I dare say we
shall get home very well. Another hour or two’s snow can hardly
make the road impassable; and we are two carriages; if one is blown
over in the bleak part of the common field there will be the other
at hand. I dare say we shall be all safe at Hartfield before
midnight.”

Mr. Weston, with triumph of a different
sort, was confessing that he had known it to be snowing some time,
but had not said a word, lest it should make Mr. Woodhouse
uncomfortable, and be an excuse for his hurrying away. As to there
being any quantity of snow fallen or likely to fall to impede their
return, that was a mere joke; he was afraid they would find no
difficulty. He wished the road might be impassable, that he might
be able to keep them all at Randalls; and with the utmost good-will
was sure that accommodation might be found for every body, calling
on his wife to agree with him, that with a little contrivance,
every body might be lodged, which she hardly knew how to do, from
the consciousness of there being but two spare rooms in the
house.

“
What is to be done, my
dear Emma? what is to be done?” was Mr. Woodhouse’s first
exclamation, and all that he could say for some time. To her he
looked for comfort; and her assurances of safety, her
representation of the excellence of the horses, and of James, and
of their having so many friends about them, revived him a
little.

His eldest daughter’s alarm was equal to his
own. The horror of being blocked up at Randalls, while her children
were at Hartfield, was full in her imagination; and fancying the
road to be now just passable for adventurous people, but in a state
that admitted no delay, she was eager to have it settled, that her
father and Emma should remain at Randalls, while she and her
husband set forward instantly through all the possible
accumulations of drifted snow that might impede them.

“
You had better order the
carriage directly, my love,” said she; “I dare say we shall be able
to get along, if we set off directly; and if we do come to any
thing very bad, I can get out and walk. I am not at all afraid. I
should not mind walking half the way. I could change my shoes, you
know, the moment I got home; and it is not the sort of thing that
gives me cold.”

“
Indeed!” replied he.
“Then, my dear Isabella, it is the most extraordinary sort of thing
in the world, for in general every thing does give you cold. Walk
home! you are prettily shod for walking home, I dare say. It will
be bad enough for the horses.”

Isabella turned to Mrs.
Weston for her approbation of the plan. Mrs. Weston could only
approve. Isabella then went to Emma; but Emma could not so entirely
give up the hope of their being all able to get away; and they were
still discussing the point, when Mr. Knightley, who had left the
room immediately after his brother’s first report of the snow, came
back again, and told them that he had been out of doors to examine,
and could answer for there not being the smallest difficulty in
their getting home, whenever they liked it, either now or an hour
hence. He had gone beyond the sweep—some way along the Highbury
road—the snow was nowhere above half an inch deep—in many places
hardly enough to whiten the ground; a very few flakes were falling
at present, but the clouds were parting, and there was every
appearance of its being soon over. He had seen the coachmen, and
they both agreed with him in there being nothing to
apprehend.