Emma and the Werewolves (28 page)

Emma, alone with her
father, had half her attention wanted by him while he lamented that
young people would be in such a hurry to marry—and to marry
strangers too—and the other half she could give to her own view of
the subject. It was to herself an amusing and a very welcome piece
of news, as proving that Mr. Elton could not have suffered long;
but she was sorry for Harriet: Harriet must feel it—and all that
she could hope was, by giving the first information herself, to
save her from hearing it abruptly from others. It was now about the
time that she was likely to call. If she were to meet Miss Bates in
her way! and upon its beginning to rain, Emma was obliged to expect
that the weather would be detaining her at Mrs. Goddard’s, and that
the intelligence would undoubtedly rush upon her without
preparation.

The shower was heavy. Rain
fell in waves crashing into the side of the house. Mr. Woodhouse
grew worried by the weather. Lightning flashed through the sky and
thunder boomed in the distant clouds. Emma moved to where he sat
and laid her arms on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, father, I think it
shall be over quickly.”

“
I do hope so,” he
commented, patting her hand.

That was when they heard
the scream. It was long and frightful, the sound of a man dying in
fear. Emma raced to the window to see what was happening outside.
The voice sounded like Chad’s. As her father called after her, Emma
saw a large wolf pinning Chad to the ground. The puddle of
rainwater beneath turned red as the wolf gnawed on and tore at
Chad’s throat. The other two guards were moving in on the creature.
Emma heard the crack of a rifle. A spurt of blood and fur flew from
the beast’s right shoulder. Its head spun around to face its new
foes. It growled and leapt at them. The second guard fired his
rifle as it bounded towards them. Through the window, Emma screamed
at them to run, but either they didn’t hear her voice over the
downpour of rain or refused to yield to the animal before them.
Another wolf seemed to come out of nowhere, racing up behind the
men. It bit the closest of the two men on the leg, tearing away a
large chunk of flesh in its teeth. The man howled in pain and fell
to his knees as the first wolf took him down the rest of the way
and finished him. By now, the other guard had reloaded.

Emma could not bear to see
anymore. She turned away as her father reached her. She threw
herself into his arms as together they heard a rifle fire followed
by the sound of more screams. “We must lock the doors!” Mr.
Woodhouse told her. A yipping from the yard called their attention
back to the window, however. One of the wolves was laying in the
rain, a silver dagger protruding from its skull. They looked on as
a man dressed in black hurtled over the estate’s wall and landed
with a loud splash on the yard. The remaining wolf appeared
terrified of this stranger. It backed away from him as he advanced
on it. The wolf was in the corner of the yard with nowhere else to
flee to. As the man continued his advance, the wolf was left with
no choice but to attack. It gave a vicious snarl and pounced. Twin
silver blades materialized in the man’s hands as he plunged them
into the wolf while it was still in midair. He sidestepped its
falling corpse and then bent over it to pull the blades
free.

“
Emma, look at the beast!”
her father urged. She found it difficult to remove her gaze from
the man as he spun and vanished at a run into the rain. “Emma!” her
father said again, nudging her. When at last she did, the bodies of
the wolves were gone and in their places lay the bodies of two
women, naked and still upon the grass. Emma covered her mouth in
shock.

“
What in the devil is going
on?” Mr. Woodhouse rasped. Emma did not have an answer.

For a while, the two of
them stayed in the house until they were sure it was safe to
venture outside. Mr. Woodhouse called to their driver and summoned
him to dispose of the bodies. They were dragged into the nearby
woods until such a time as they could be properly dealt with. Mr.
Woodhouse wandered into his study after making sure Emma was okay
and locked the door behind him. Emma sat in the room where they
witnessed it all, trying to make sense of the chaos which had
transpired. Soon, though, she was pulled roughly back to the normal
business of the day when in came Harriet, with just the heated,
agitated look which hurrying thither with a full heart was likely
to give; and the “Oh! Miss Woodhouse, what do you think has
happened!” which instantly burst forth, had all the evidence of
corresponding perturbation. It took Emma the briefest of moments to
realize that Harriet was not talking about the horror she just
witnessed or the strange man in black. She recollected herself and
focused on Harriet’s words. As the blow was given, Emma felt that
she could not now shew greater kindness than in listening; and
Harriet, unchecked, ran eagerly through what she had to tell. “She
had set out from Mrs. Goddard’s an hour ago—she had been afraid it
would rain—she had been afraid it would pour down every moment—but
she thought she might get to Hartfield first—she had hurried on as
fast as possible; but then, as she was passing by the house where a
young woman was making up a gown for her, she thought she would
just step in and see how it went on; and though she did not seem to
stay half a moment there, soon after she came out it began to rain,
and she did not know what to do; so she ran on directly, as fast as
she could, and took shelter at Ford’s.” —Ford’s was the principal
woollen-draper, linen-draper, and haberdasher’s shop united; the
shop first in size and fashion in the place. “And so, there she had
set, without an idea of any thing in the world, full ten minutes,
perhaps—when, all of a sudden, who should come in—to be sure it was
so very odd! but they always dealt at Ford’s—who should come in,
but Elizabeth Martin and her brother! Dear Miss Woodhouse! only
think. I thought I should have fainted. I did not know what to do.
I was sitting near the door—Elizabeth saw me directly; but he did
not; he was busy with the umbrella. I am sure she saw me, but she
looked away directly, and took no notice; and they both went to
quite the farther end of the shop; and I kept sitting near the
door! Oh! dear; I was so miserable! I am sure I must have been as
white as my gown. I could not go away you know, because of the
rain; but I did so wish myself anywhere in the world but there. Oh!
dear, Miss Woodhouse—well, at last, I fancy, he looked round and
saw me; for instead of going on with her buyings, they began
whispering to one another. I am sure they were talking of me; and I
could not help thinking that he was persuading her to speak to
me—(do you think he was, Miss Woodhouse?)—for presently she came
forward—came quite up to me, and asked me how I did, and seemed
ready to shake hands, if I would. She did not do any of it in the
same way that she used; I could see she was altered; but, however,
she seemed to try to be very friendly, and we shook hands, and
stood talking some time; but I know no more what I said—I was in
such a tremble! I remember she said she was sorry we never met now;
which I thought almost too kind! Dear, Miss Woodhouse, I was
absolutely miserable! By that time, it was beginning to hold up,
and I was determined that nothing should stop me from getting
away—and then—only think! I found he was coming up towards me
too—slowly you know, and as if he did not quite know what to do;
and so he came and spoke, and I answered—and I stood for a minute,
feeling dreadfully, you know, one can’t tell how; and then I took
courage, and said it did not rain, and I must go; and so off I set;
and I had not got three yards from the door, when he came after me,
only to say, if I was going to Hartfield, he thought I had much
better go round by Mr. Cole’s stables, for I should find the near
way quite floated by this rain. Oh! dear, I thought it would have
been the death of me! So I said, I was very much obliged to him:
you know I could not do less; and then he went back to Elizabeth,
and I came round by the stables—I believe I did—but I hardly knew
where I was, or any thing about it. Oh! Miss Woodhouse, I would
rather done any thing than have it happen: and yet, you know, there
was a sort of satisfaction in seeing him behave so pleasantly and
so kindly. And Elizabeth, too. Oh! Miss Woodhouse, do talk to me
and make me comfortable again.”

Very sincerely did Emma
wish to do so; but it was not immediately in her power. She was
obliged to stop and think. She was not thoroughly comfortable
herself. The young man’s conduct, and his sister’s, seemed the
result of real feeling, and she could not but pity them. As Harriet
described it, there had been an interesting mixture of wounded
affection and genuine delicacy in their behaviour. But she had
believed them to be well-meaning, worthy people before; and what
difference did this make in the evils of the connexion? It was
folly to be disturbed by it. Of course, he must be sorry to lose
her—they must be all sorry. Ambition, as well as love, had probably
been mortified. They might all have hoped to rise by Harriet’s
acquaintance: and besides, what was the value of Harriet’s
description? So easily pleased—so little discerning; what signified
her praise?

She exerted herself, and did try to make her
comfortable, by considering all that had passed as a mere trifle,
and quite unworthy of being dwelt on,

“
It might be distressing,
for the moment,” said she; “but you seem to have behaved extremely
well; and it is over—and may never—can never, as a first meeting,
occur again, and therefore you need not think about it.”

Harriet said, “very true,”
and she “would not think about it;” but still she talked of
it—still she could talk of nothing else; and Emma, at last, in
order to put the Martins out of her head, was obliged to hurry on
the news, which she had meant to give with so much tender caution;
hardly knowing herself whether to rejoice or be angry, ashamed or
only amused, at such a state of mind in poor Harriet—such a
conclusion of Mr. Elton’s importance with her!

Mr. Elton’s rights, however, gradually
revived. Though she did not feel the first intelligence as she
might have done the day before, or an hour before, its interest
soon increased; and before their first conversation was over, she
had talked herself into all the sensations of curiosity, wonder and
regret, pain and pleasure, as to this fortunate Miss Hawkins, which
could conduce to place the Martins under proper subordination in
her fancy.

Emma learned to be rather
glad that there had been such a meeting. It had been serviceable in
deadening the first shock, without retaining any influence to
alarm. As Harriet now lived, the Martins could not get at her,
without seeking her, where hitherto they had wanted either the
courage or the condescension to seek her; for since her refusal of
the brother, the sisters never had been at Mrs. Goddard’s; and a
twelvemonth might pass without their being thrown together again,
with any necessity, or even any power of speech.

* * * *

Chapter IV

H
uman nature is so
well disposed
towards those who are in interesting situations, that a young
person, who either marries or dies, is sure of being kindly spoken
of.

A week had not passed since
Miss Hawkins’s name was first mentioned in Highbury, before she
was, by some means or other, discovered to have every
recommendation of person and mind; to be handsome, elegant, highly
accomplished, and perfectly amiable: and when Mr. Elton himself
arrived to triumph in his happy prospects, and circulate the fame
of her merits, there was very little more for him to do, than to
tell her Christian name, and say whose music she principally
played. The people of Highbury occupied their thoughts with his new
bride as much as they could in public, but behind closed doors it
was the whispers of Mr. Elton’s team that was the true topic of
merit.

Mr. Elton returned, a very
happy man. Not only had he returned a married man, but he returned
as a hero as well for with him he brought four men of the foulest
nature. They were all soldiers of a sort. Mercenaries might have
been a better word for them. Yet, they were help and a sort of help
Highbury desperately needed. Mr. Elton assured everyone they would
promptly deal with the beast as soon as it could be located. “These
men,” he said, “are qualified trackers who shall not fail
us!”

The tallest of them was
named Harold. He stood a hulking seven feet tall with muscles that
flowed under the cloth of his shirt so thick their ripples could be
seen through it. Marcus and Reggie were his constant companions.
They were ratty little men but hardened. Both had the look of
killers and the ill tempers to match. The last of the group Mr.
Elton brought back was called “Eye.” If he held a proper name, it
was never given. A patch covered the right side of his face,
sealing shut the vacant hole where his eye once sat. His manner was
also gruff, but he appeared to have a modicum of intellect and led
the others in their work as they were preparing to challenge the
beast of Highbury.

Mr. Elton had gone away
rejected and mortified—disappointed in a very sanguine hope, after
a series of what appeared to him strong encouragement; and not only
losing the right lady, but finding himself debased to the level of
a very wrong one. He had gone away deeply offended—he came back
engaged to another—and to another as superior, of course, to the
first, as under such circumstances what is gained always is to what
is lost. He came back gay and self-satisfied, eager and busy,
caring nothing for Miss Woodhouse, and defying Miss Smith. Indeed,
he was most busy with the mission to rid Highbury of the monster,
which after the tale of Mr. Woodhouse and Emma’s encounter with the
wolves at Hartfield, everyone believed to be a pack of wolves
instead of some fiend from the depths of Hell itself. When he could
spare a moment for the quest to rid Highbury of its woes, it was
Ms. Hawkins of whom he always spoke and did so with sincere
zeal.