Emma and the Werewolves (23 page)

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Chapter XVIII

K
nightley awoke under sweat-drenched
sheets. The wolves had followed him into his dreams. He
remembered their snarling cries and bloodthirsty eyes as they
rushed at him in the woods. He shuddered and threw the covers back.
Since that night, he’d been recovering, licking his wounds and
regaining his strength. The wolves suffered rather heavy losses
that night and there were no attacks he heard tale of since then.
His mission was far from over and his most powerful weapon was now
gone. Crafting the silver explosive had cost him dearly. He knew he
needed a new plan to deal with the
thing
that had been born of the
wolves’ evil. It would be stalking them as well as any human prey
it could find. Knightley knew before long it would gain a stronger
link to this world. Then it would truly be nigh unstoppable. When
that time came, he had to be ready. Sighing heavily, he moved to
clean himself up and don his clothes for the day. There was his
appearance to keep up, and besides that, he missed Emma greatly.
Though she vexed him to no end, he admitted to himself that he
needed her meddling nature to cheer him.

Mr. Frank Churchill did not
come. When the time proposed drew near, Mrs. Weston’s fears were
justified in the arrival of a letter of excuse. For the present, he
could not be spared, to his “very great mortification and regret;
but still he looked forward with the hope of coming to Randalls at
no distant period.”

Mrs. Weston was exceedingly
disappointed—much more disappointed, in fact, than her husband,
though her dependence on seeing the young man had been so much more
sober: but a sanguine temper, though for ever expecting more good
than occurs, does not always pay for its hopes by any proportionate
depression. It soon flies over the present failure, and begins to
hope again. For half an hour Mr. Weston was surprized and sorry;
but then he began to perceive that Frank’s coming two or three
months later would be a much better plan; better time of year;
better weather; and that he would be able, without any doubt, to
stay considerably longer with them than if he had come
sooner.

These feelings rapidly restored his comfort,
while Mrs. Weston, of a more apprehensive disposition, foresaw
nothing but a repetition of excuses and delays; and after all her
concern for what her husband was to suffer, suffered a great deal
more herself.

Emma was not at this time
in a state of spirits to care really about Mr. Frank Churchill’s
not coming, except as a disappointment at Randalls. She was
fighting off a cold from her recent experience in the woods. The
acquaintance at present had no charm for her. She wanted, rather,
to be quiet, and out of temptation; but still, as it was desirable
that she should appear, in general, like her usual self, she took
care to express as much interest in the circumstance, and enter as
warmly into Mr. and Mrs. Weston’s disappointment, as might
naturally belong to their friendship.

She was the first to
announce it to Mr. Knightley; and exclaimed quite as much as was
necessary, (or, being acting a part, perhaps rather more,) at the
conduct of the Churchills, in keeping him away. She then proceeded
to say a good deal more than she felt, of the advantage of such an
addition to their confined society in Surry; the pleasure of
looking at somebody new; the gala-day to Highbury entire, which the
sight of him would have made; and ending with reflections on the
Churchills again, found herself directly involved in a disagreement
with Mr. Knightley; and, to her great amusement, perceived that she
was taking the other side of the question from her real opinion,
and making use of Mrs. Weston’s arguments against
herself.

“
The Churchills are very
likely in fault,” said Mr. Knightley, coolly; “but I dare say he
might come if he would.”

“
I do not know why you
should say so. He wishes exceedingly to come; but his uncle and
aunt will not spare him.”

“
I cannot believe that he
has not the power of coming, if he made a point of it. It is too
unlikely, for me to believe it without proof.”

“
How odd you are! What has
Mr. Frank Churchill done, to make you suppose him such an unnatural
creature?”

“
I am not supposing him at
all an unnatural creature, in suspecting that he may have learnt to
be above his connexions, and to care very little for any thing but
his own pleasure, from living with those who have always set him
the example of it. It is a great deal more natural than one could
wish, that a young man, brought up by those who are proud,
luxurious, and selfish, should be proud, luxurious, and selfish
too. If Frank Churchill had wanted to see his father, he would have
contrived it between September and January. A man at his age—what
is he? three or four-and-twenty—cannot be without the means of
doing as much as that. It is impossible.”

“
That’s easily said, and
easily felt by you, who have always been your own master. You are
the worst judge in the world, Mr. Knightley, of the difficulties of
dependence. You do not know what it is to have tempers to
manage.”

“
It is not to be conceived
that a man of three or four-and-twenty should not have liberty of
mind or limb to that amount. He cannot want money—he cannot want
leisure. We know, on the contrary, that he has so much of both,
that he is glad to get rid of them at the idlest haunts in the
kingdom. We hear of him for ever at some watering-place or other. A
little while ago, he was at Weymouth. This proves that he can leave
the Churchills.”

“
Yes, sometimes he
can.”

“
And those times are
whenever he thinks it worth his while; whenever there is any
temptation of pleasure.”

“
It is very unfair to judge
of any body’s conduct, without an intimate knowledge of their
situation. Nobody, who has not been in the interior of a family,
can say what the difficulties of any individual of that family may
be. We ought to be acquainted with Enscombe, and with Mrs.
Churchill’s temper, before we pretend to decide upon what her
nephew can do. He may, at times, be able to do a great deal more
than he can at others.”

“
There is one thing, Emma,
which a man can always do, if he chuses, and that is, his duty; not
by manoeuvring and finessing, but by vigour and resolution. It is
Frank Churchill’s duty to pay this attention to his father. He
knows it to be so, by his promises and messages; but if he wished
to do it, it might be done. A man who felt rightly would say at
once, simply and resolutely, to Mrs. Churchill— ‘Every sacrifice of
mere pleasure you will always find me ready to make to your
convenience; but I must go and see my father immediately. I know he
would be hurt by my failing in such a mark of respect to him on the
present occasion. I shall, therefore, set off to-morrow.’ If he
would say so to her at once, in the tone of decision becoming a
man, there would be no opposition made to his going.”

“
No,” said Emma, laughing;
“but perhaps there might be some made to his coming back again.
Such language for a young man entirely dependent, to use! Nobody
but you, Mr. Knightley, would imagine it possible. But you have not
an idea of what is requisite in situations directly opposite to
your own. Mr. Frank Churchill to be making such a speech as that to
the uncle and aunt, who have brought him up, and are to provide for
him! Standing up in the middle of the room, I suppose, and speaking
as loud as he could! How can you imagine such conduct
practicable?”

“
Depend upon it, Emma, a
sensible man would find no difficulty in it. He would feel himself
in the right; and the declaration made, of course, as a man of
sense would make it, in a proper manner would do him more good,
raise him higher, fix his interest stronger with the people he
depended on, than all that a line of shifts and expedients can ever
do. Respect would be added to affection. They would feel that they
could trust him; that the nephew who had done rightly by his
father, would do rightly by them; for they know, as well as he
does, as well as all the world must know, that he ought to pay this
visit to his father; and while meanly exerting their power to delay
it, are in their hearts not thinking the better of him for
submitting to their whims. Respect for right conduct is felt by
every body. If he would act in this sort of manner, on principle,
consistently, regularly, their little minds would bend to
his.”

“
I rather doubt that. You
are very fond of bending little minds; but where little minds
belong to rich people in authority, I think they have a knack of
swelling out, till they are quite as unmanageable as great ones. I
can imagine, that if you, as you are, Mr. Knightley, were to be
transported and placed all at once in Mr. Frank Churchill’s
situation, you would be able to say and do just what you have been
recommending for him; and it might have a very good effect. The
Churchills might not have a word to say in return; but then, you
would have no habits of early obedience and long observance to
break through. To him who has, it might not be so easy to burst
forth at once into perfect independence, and set all their claims
on his gratitude and regard at nought. He may have as strong a
sense of what would be right, as you can have, without being so
equal, under particular circumstances, to act up to it.”

“
Then it would not be so
strong a sense. If it failed to produce equal exertion, it could
not be an equal conviction.”

“
Oh, the difference of
situation and habit! I wish you would try to understand what an
amiable young man may be likely to feel in directly opposing those,
whom as child and boy he has been looking up to all his
life.”

“
Our amiable young man is a
very weak young man, if this be the first occasion of his carrying
through a resolution to do right against the will of others. It
ought to have been a habit with him by this time, of following his
duty, instead of consulting expediency. I can allow for the fears
of the child, but not of the man. As he became rational, he ought
to have roused himself and shaken off all that was unworthy in
their authority. He ought to have opposed the first attempt on
their side to make him slight his father. Had he begun as he ought,
there would have been no difficulty now.”

“
We shall never agree about
him,” cried Emma; “but that is nothing extraordinary. I have not
the least idea of his being a weak young man: I feel sure that he
is not. Mr. Weston would not be blind to folly, though in his own
son; but he is very likely to have a more yielding, complying, mild
disposition than would suit your notions of man’s perfection. I
dare say he has; and though it may cut him off from some
advantages, it will secure him many others.”

“
Yes; all the advantages of
sitting still when he ought to move, and of leading a life of mere
idle pleasure, and fancying himself extremely expert in finding
excuses for it. He can sit down and write a fine flourishing
letter, full of professions and falsehoods, and persuade himself
that he has hit upon the very best method in the world of
preserving peace at home and preventing his father’s having any
right to complain. His letters disgust me.”

“
Your feelings are
singular. They seem to satisfy every body else.”

“
I suspect they do not
satisfy Mrs. Weston. They hardly can satisfy a woman of her good
sense and quick feelings: standing in a mother’s place, but without
a mother’s affection to blind her. It is on her account that
attention to Randalls is doubly due, and she must doubly feel the
omission. Had she been a person of consequence herself, he would
have come I dare say; and it would not have signified whether he
did or no. Can you think your friend behindhand in these sort of
considerations? Do you suppose she does not often say all this to
herself? No, Emma, your amiable young man can be amiable only in
French, not in English. He may be very ‘aimable,’ have very good
manners, and be very agreeable; but he can have no English delicacy
towards the feelings of other people: nothing really amiable about
him.”

“
You seem determined to
think ill of him.”

“
Me! not at all,” replied
Mr. Knightley, rather displeased; “I do not want to think ill of
him. I should be as ready to acknowledge his merits as any other
man; but I hear of none, except what are merely personal; that he
is well-grown and good-looking, with smooth, plausible
manners.”

“
Well, if he have nothing
else to recommend him, he will be a treasure at Highbury. We do not
often look upon fine young men, well-bred and agreeable. We must
not be nice and ask for all the virtues into the bargain. Cannot
you imagine, Mr. Knightley, what a sensation his coming will
produce? There will be but one subject throughout the parishes of
Donwell and Highbury; but one interest—one object of curiosity; it
will be all Mr. Frank Churchill; we shall think and speak of nobody
else.”

“
You will excuse my being
so much over-powered. If I find him conversable, I shall be glad of
his acquaintance; but if he is only a chattering coxcomb, he will
not occupy much of my time or thoughts.”

“
My idea of him is, that he
can adapt his conversation to the taste of every body, and has the
power as well as the wish of being universally agreeable. To you,
he will talk of farming; to me, of drawing or music; and so on to
every body, having that general information on all subjects which
will enable him to follow the lead, or take the lead, just as
propriety may require, and to speak extremely well on each; that is
my idea of him.”