Emma and the Werewolves (34 page)

But she had made up her mind how to meet
this presumption so many weeks before it appeared, that when the
insult came at last, it found her very differently affected.
Donwell and Randalls had received their invitation, and none had
come for her father and herself; and Mrs. Weston’s accounting for
it with “I suppose they will not take the liberty with you; they
know you do not dine out,” was not quite sufficient. She felt that
she should like to have had the power of refusal; and afterwards,
as the idea of the party to be assembled there, consisting
precisely of those whose society was dearest to her, occurred again
and again, she did not know that she might not have been tempted to
accept. Indeed, a party with so many much woe present in the
village was very unbecoming to her sense of propiety. Yet Harriet
was to be there in the evening, and the Bateses. They had been
speaking of it as they walked about Highbury the day before, and
Frank Churchill had most earnestly lamented her absence. Might not
the evening end in a dance? had been a question of his. The bare
possibility of it acted as a farther irritation on her spirits; and
her being left in solitary grandeur, even supposing the omission to
be intended as a compliment, was but poor comfort.

It was the arrival of this very invitation
while the Westons were at Hartfield, which made their presence so
acceptable; for though her first remark, on reading it, was that
“of course it must be declined,” she so very soon proceeded to ask
them what they advised her to do, that their advice for her going
was most prompt and successful.

She owned that, considering
every thing, she was not absolutely without inclination for the
party. The Coles expressed themselves so properly—there was so much
real attention in the manner of it—so much consideration for her
father. “They would have solicited the honour earlier, but had been
waiting the arrival of a folding-screen from London, which they
hoped might keep Mr. Woodhouse from any draught of air, and
therefore induce him the more readily to give them the honour of
his company. “Upon the whole, she was very persuadable; and it
being briefly settled among themselves how it might be done without
neglecting his comfort—how certainly Mrs. Goddard, if not Mrs.
Bates, might be depended on for bearing him company—Mr. Woodhouse
was to be talked into an acquiescence of his daughter’s going out
to dinner on a day now near at hand, and spending the whole evening
away from him. As for his going, Emma did not wish him to think it
possible, the hours would be too late, and the party too numerous.
He was soon pretty well resigned.

“
I am not fond of
dinner-visiting,” said he, “I never was. No more is Emma. Late
hours do not agree with us.” His voice had taken on a tone of fear
as he said this. Now, it was more than just habit and manners which
made Mr. Woodhouse so withdrawn. “I am sorry Mr. and Mrs. Cole
should have done it. I think it would be much better if they would
come in one afternoon next summer, and take their tea with us—take
us in their afternoon walk; which they might do, as our hours are
so reasonable, and yet get home without being out in the damp of
the evening. The dews of a summer evening are what I would not
expose any body to. However, as they are so very desirous to have
dear Emma dine with them, and as you will both be there, and Mr.
Knightley too, to take care of her, I cannot wish to prevent it,
provided the weather be what it ought, neither damp, nor cold, nor
windy.” Then turning to Mrs. Weston, with a look of gentle
reproach— “Ah! Miss Taylor, if you had not married, you would have
staid at home with me.”

“
Well, sir,” cried Mr.
Weston, “as I took Miss Taylor away, it is incumbent on me to
supply her place, if I can; and I will step to Mrs. Goddard in a
moment, if you wish it.”

But the idea of any thing to be done in a
moment, was increasing, not lessening, Mr. Woodhouse’s agitation.
The ladies knew better how to allay it. Mr. Weston must be quiet,
and every thing deliberately arranged.

With this treatment, Mr.
Woodhouse was soon composed enough for talking as usual. “He should
be happy to see Mrs. Goddard. He had a great regard for Mrs.
Goddard; and Emma should write a line, and invite her. James could
take the note. But first of all, there must be an answer written to
Mrs. Cole.”

“
You will make my excuses,
my dear, as civilly as possible. You will say that I am quite an
invalid, and go no where, and therefore must decline their obliging
invitation; beginning with my compliments, of course. But you will
do every thing right. I need not tell you what is to be done. We
must remember to let James know that the carriage will be wanted on
Tuesday. I shall have no fears for you with him. He is a stout man
and able to handle himself well. I hope you do not mind that I
shall have him take extra precautions as to your care. I shall make
sure he carries both rifle and sidearm in case such a need should
arise.” Emma knew he said this more for his own benefit than her
own. He needed very much to believe she would be safe because in
Highbury safety was a failing thing at best.

“
We have never been there
above once since the new approach was made; but still I have no
doubt that James will take you very safely. And when you get there,
you must tell him at what time you would have him come for you
again; and you had better name an early hour. You will not like
staying late. You will get very tired when tea is over.”

“
But you would not wish me
to come away before I am tired, papa?”

“
Oh! no, my love; but you
will soon be tired. There will be a great many people talking at
once. You will not like the noise.”

“
But, my dear sir,” cried
Mr. Weston, “if Emma comes away early, it will be breaking up the
party. And if she does leave late, I am sure the Coles can spare
one of their men to accompany James on the passage back to
Hartfield.”

“
And no great harm it does
them to make sure their guests are attended to in their needs,”
said Mr. Woodhouse. “Yet, it is the truth that the sooner every
party breaks up, the better.”

“
But you do not consider
how it may appear to the Coles. Emma’s going away directly after
tea might be giving offence. They are good-natured people, and
think little of their own claims; but still they must feel that any
body’s hurrying away is no great compliment; and Miss Woodhouse’s
doing it would be more thought of than any other person’s in the
room. You would not wish to disappoint and mortify the Coles, I am
sure, sir; friendly, good sort of people as ever lived, and who
have been your neighbours these ten years.”

“
No, upon no account in the
world, Mr. Weston; I am much obliged to you for reminding me. I
should be extremely sorry to be giving them any pain. I know what
worthy people they are. Perry tells me that Mr. Cole never touches
malt liquor. You would not think it to look at him, but he is
bilious—Mr. Cole is very bilious. No, I would not be the means of
giving them any pain. My dear Emma, we must consider this. I am
sure, rather than run the risk of hurting Mr. and Mrs. Cole, you
would stay a little longer than you might wish. You will not regard
being tired. You will be perfectly safe, you know, among your
friends.”

“
Oh yes, papa. I have no
fears at all for myself; and I should have no scruples of staying
as late as Mrs. Weston, but on your account. I am only afraid of
your sitting up for me. I am not afraid of your not being
exceedingly comfortable with Mrs. Goddard. She loves piquet, you
know; but when she is gone home, I am afraid you will be sitting up
by yourself, instead of going to bed at your usual time—and the
idea of that would entirely destroy my comfort. You must promise me
not to sit up.”

He did, on the condition of
some promises on her side: such as that, if she came home cold, she
would be sure to warm herself thoroughly; if hungry, that she would
take something to eat; that her own maid should sit up for her; and
that Serle and the butler should see that every thing were safe in
the house, as usual.

* * * *

Chapter VIII

F
rank Churchill came back
again; and if
he kept his father’s dinner waiting, it was not known at Hartfield;
for Mrs. Weston was too anxious for his being a favourite with Mr.
Woodhouse, to betray any imperfection which could be
concealed.

He came back, had had his hair cut, and
laughed at himself with a very good grace, but without seeming
really at all ashamed of what he had done. He had no reason to wish
his hair longer, to conceal any confusion of face; no reason to
wish the money unspent, to improve his spirits. He was quite as
undaunted and as lively as ever; and, after seeing him, Emma thus
moralised to herself:

“
I do not know whether it
ought to be so, but certainly silly things do cease to be silly if
they are done by sensible people in an impudent way. Wickedness is
always wickedness, but folly is not always folly. It depends upon
the character of those who handle it. Mr. Knightley, he is not a
trifling, silly young man. If he were, he would have done this
differently. He would either have gloried in the achievement, or
been ashamed of it. There would have been either the ostentation of
a coxcomb, or the evasions of a mind too weak to defend its own
vanities. No, I am perfectly sure that he is not trifling or
silly.”

With Tuesday came the agreeable prospect of
seeing him again, and for a longer time than hitherto; of judging
of his general manners, and by inference, of the meaning of his
manners towards herself; of guessing how soon it might be necessary
for her to throw coldness into her air; and of fancying what the
observations of all those might be, who were now seeing them
together for the first time.

She meant to be very happy, in spite of the
scene being laid at Mr. Cole’s; and without being able to forget
that among the failings of Mr. Elton, even in the days of his
favour, none had disturbed her more than his propensity to dine
with Mr. Cole.

Her father’s comfort was
amply secured, Mrs. Bates as well as Mrs. Goddard being able to
come; and her last pleasing duty, before she left the house, was to
pay her respects to them as they sat together after dinner; and
while her father was fondly noticing the beauty of her dress, to
make the two ladies all the amends in her power, by helping them to
large slices of cake and full glasses of wine, for whatever
unwilling self-denial his care of their constitution might have
obliged them to practise during the meal. She had provided a
plentiful dinner for them; she wished she could know that they had
been allowed to eat it.

She followed another carriage to Mr. Cole’s
door; and was pleased to see that it was Mr. Knightley’s; for Mr.
Knightley keeping no horses, having little spare money and a great
deal of health, activity, and independence, was too apt, in Emma’s
opinion, to get about as he could, and not use his carriage so
often as became the owner of Donwell Abbey. She had an opportunity
now of speaking her approbation while warm from her heart, for he
stopped to hand her out.

“
This is coming as you
should do,” said she; “like a gentleman. I am quite glad to see
you.”

He thanked her, observing, “How lucky that
we should arrive at the same moment! for, if we had met first in
the drawing-room, I doubt whether you would have discerned me to be
more of a gentleman than usual. You might not have distinguished
how I came, by my look or manner.”

“
Yes I should, I am sure I
should. There is always a look of consciousness or bustle when
people come in a way which they know to be beneath them. You think
you carry it off very well, I dare say, but with you it is a sort
of bravado, an air of affected unconcern; I always observe it
whenever I meet you under those circumstances. Now you have nothing
to try for. You are not afraid of being supposed ashamed. You are
not striving to look taller than any body else. Now I shall really
be very happy to walk into the same room with you.”

“
Nonsensical girl!” was his
reply, but not at all in anger.

Emma had as much reason to
be satisfied with the rest of the party as with Mr. Knightley. She
was received with a cordial respect which could not but please, and
given all the consequence she could wish for. When the Westons
arrived, the kindest looks of love, the strongest of admiration
were for her, from both husband and wife; the son approached her
with a cheerful eagerness which marked her as his peculiar object,
and at dinner she found him seated by her—and, as she firmly
believed, not without some dexterity on his side.

The party was rather large,
as it included one other family, a proper unobjectionable country
family, whom the Coles had the advantage of naming among their
acquaintance, and the male part of Mr. Cox’s family, the lawyer of
Highbury. The less worthy females were to come in the evening, with
Miss Bates, Miss Fairfax, and Miss Smith; but already, at dinner,
they were too numerous for any subject of conversation to be
general; and, while politics and Mr. Elton were talked over, Emma
could fairly surrender all her attention to the pleasantness of her
neighbour. The first remote sound to which she felt herself obliged
to attend, was the name of Jane Fairfax. Mrs. Cole seemed to be
relating something of her that was expected to be very interesting.
She listened, and found it well worth listening to. That very dear
part of Emma, her fancy, received an amusing supply. Mrs. Cole was
telling that she had been calling on Miss Bates, and as soon as she
entered the room had been struck by the sight of a pianoforte—a
very elegant looking instrument—not a grand, but a large-sized
square pianoforte; and the substance of the story, the end of all
the dialogue which ensued of surprize, and inquiry, and
congratulations on her side, and explanations on Miss Bates’s, was,
that this pianoforte had arrived from Broadwood’s the day before,
to the great astonishment of both aunt and niece—entirely
unexpected; that at first, by Miss Bates’s account, Jane herself
was quite at a loss, quite bewildered to think who could possibly
have ordered it—but now, they were both perfectly satisfied that it
could be from only one quarter; of course it must be from Colonel
Campbell.