Emma and the Werewolves (37 page)

From that moment, Emma
could have taken her oath that Mr. Knightley had had no concern in
giving the instrument. But whether he were entirely free from
peculiar attachment—whether there were no actual
preference—remained a little longer doubtful. Towards the end of
Jane’s second song, her voice grew thick.

“
That will do,” said he,
when it was finished, thinking aloud, “you have sung quite enough
for one evening—now be quiet.”

Another song, however, was soon begged for.
“One more; they would not fatigue Miss Fairfax on any account, and
would only ask for one more.” And Frank Churchill was heard to say,
“I think you could manage this without effort; the first part is so
very trifling. The strength of the song falls on the second.”

Mr. Knightley grew angry.

“
That fellow,” said he,
indignantly, “thinks of nothing but shewing off his own voice. This
must not be.” And touching Miss Bates, who at that moment passed
near— “Miss Bates, are you mad, to let your niece sing herself
hoarse in this manner? Go, and interfere. They have no mercy on
her.”

Miss Bates, in her real
anxiety for Jane, could hardly stay even to be grateful, before she
stept forward and put an end to all farther singing. Here ceased
the concert part of the evening, for Miss Woodhouse and Miss
Fairfax were the only young lady performers; but soon (within five
minutes) the proposal of dancing—originating nobody exactly knew
where—was so effectually promoted by Mr. and Mrs. Cole, that every
thing was rapidly clearing away, to give proper space. Mrs. Weston,
capital in her country-dances, was seated, and beginning an
irresistible waltz; and Frank Churchill, coming up with most
becoming gallantry to Emma, had secured her hand, and led her up to
the top.

While waiting till the
other young people could pair themselves off, Emma found time, in
spite of the compliments she was receiving on her voice and her
taste, to look about, and see what became of Mr. Knightley. This
would be a trial. He was no dancer in general. If he were to be
very alert in engaging Jane Fairfax now, it might augur something.
There was no immediate appearance. No; he was talking to Mrs.
Cole—he was looking on unconcerned; Jane was asked by somebody
else, and he was still talking to Mrs. Cole.

Emma had no longer an alarm for Henry; his
interest was yet safe; and she led off the dance with genuine
spirit and enjoyment. Not more than five couple could be mustered;
but the rarity and the suddenness of it made it very delightful,
and she found herself well matched in a partner. They were a couple
worth looking at.

Two dances, unfortunately, were all that
could be allowed. It was growing late, and Miss Bates became
anxious to get home, on her mother’s account. After some attempts,
therefore, to be permitted to begin again, they were obliged to
thank Mrs. Weston, look sorrowful, and have done.

“
Perhaps it is as well,”
said Frank Churchill, as he attended Emma to her carriage. “I must
have asked Miss Fairfax, and her languid dancing would not have
agreed with me, after your’s.”

After the party ended, Mr.
Knightley saw the others home safely then retired himself. Neither
the wolves nor the demon had made their presence known in a long
while and he was grateful for it. That time would come soon enough
and he would face them then, but for now, he was thankful for his
rest. He undressed and climbed into bed at peace for the first time
in ages. Even Emma appeared safe, and with no further visit from
Selena, he hoped she would remain so. His eyes fell closed and
sleep took him into its warm, embracing arms.

* * * *

Chapter IX

E
mma did not repent
her condescension
in going to the Coles. The visit afforded her many pleasant
recollections the next day; and all that she might be supposed to
have lost on the side of dignified seclusion, must be amply repaid
in the splendour of popularity. She must have delighted the
Coles—worthy people, who deserved to be made happy! And left a name
behind her that would not soon die away.

Perfect happiness, even in memory, is not
common; and there were two points on which she was not quite easy.
She doubted whether she had not transgressed the duty of woman by
woman, in betraying her suspicions of Jane Fairfax’s feelings to
Frank Churchill. It was hardly right; but it had been so strong an
idea, that it would escape her, and his submission to all that she
told, was a compliment to her penetration, which made it difficult
for her to be quite certain that she ought to have held her
tongue.

The other circumstance of
regret related also to Jane Fairfax; and there she had no doubt.
She did unfeignedly and unequivocally regret the inferiority of her
own playing and singing. She did most heartily grieve over the
idleness of her childhood—and sat down and practised vigorously an
hour and a half.

She was then interrupted by Harriet’s coming
in; and if Harriet’s praise could have satisfied her, she might
soon have been comforted.

“
Oh! if I could but play as
well as you and Miss Fairfax!”

“
Don’t class us together,
Harriet. My playing is no more like her’s, than a lamp is like
sunshine.”

“
Oh! dear—I think you play
the best of the two. I think you play quite as well as she does. I
am sure I had much rather hear you. Every body last night said how
well you played.”

“
Those who knew any thing
about it, must have felt the difference. The truth is, Harriet,
that my playing is just good enough to be praised, but Jane
Fairfax’s is much beyond it.”

“
Well, I always shall think
that you play quite as well as she does, or that if there is any
difference nobody would ever find it out. Mr. Cole said how much
taste you had; and Mr. Frank Churchill talked a great deal about
your taste, and that he valued taste much more than
execution.”

“
Ah! but Jane Fairfax has
them both, Harriet.”

“
Are you sure? I saw she
had execution, but I did not know she had any taste. Nobody talked
about it. And I hate Italian singing. There is no understanding a
word of it. Besides, if she does play so very well, you know, it is
no more than she is obliged to do, because she will have to teach.
The Coxes were wondering last night whether she would get into any
great family. How did you think the Coxes looked?”

“
Just as they always
do—very vulgar.”

“
They told me something,”
said Harriet rather hesitatingly; “but it is nothing of any
consequence.”

Emma was obliged to ask what they had told
her, though fearful of its producing Mr. Elton.

“
They told me—that Mr.
Martin dined with them last Saturday.”

“
Oh!”

“
He came to their father
upon some business, and he asked him to stay to dinner.”

“
Oh!”

“
They talked a great deal
about him, especially Anne Cox. I do not know what she meant, but
she asked me if I thought I should go and stay there again next
summer.”

“
She meant to be
impertinently curious, just as such an Anne Cox should
be.”

“
She said he was very
agreeable the day he dined there. He sat by her at dinner. Miss
Nash thinks either of the Coxes would be very glad to marry
him.”

“
Very likely. I think they
are, without exception, the most vulgar girls in
Highbury.”

Harriet had business at Ford’s. Emma thought
it most prudent to go with her. Another accidental meeting with the
Martins was possible, and in her present state, would be
dangerous.

Harriet, tempted by every
thing and swayed by half a word, was always very long at a
purchase; and while she was still hanging over muslins and changing
her mind, Emma went to the door for amusement. Much could not be
hoped from the traffic of even the busiest part of Highbury; Mr.
Perry walking hastily by, Mr. William Cox letting himself in at the
office-door, Mr. Cole’s carriage-horses returning from exercise, or
a stray letter-boy on an obstinate mule, were the liveliest objects
she could presume to expect; and when her eyes fell only on the
butcher with his tray, a tidy old woman travelling homewards from
shop with her full basket, two curs quarrelling over a dirty bone,
and a string of dawdling children round the baker’s little
bow-window eyeing the gingerbread, she knew she had no reason to
complain, and was amused enough; quite enough still to stand at the
door. A mind lively and at ease, can do with seeing nothing, and
can see nothing that does not answer.

She looked down the Randalls road. The scene
enlarged; two persons appeared; Mrs. Weston and her son-in-law;
they were walking into Highbury; to Hartfield of course. They were
stopping, however, in the first place at Mrs. Bates’s; whose house
was a little nearer Randalls than Ford’s; and had all but knocked,
when Emma caught their eye. Immediately they crossed the road and
came forward to her; and the agreeableness of yesterday’s
engagement seemed to give fresh pleasure to the present meeting.
Mrs. Weston informed her that she was going to call on the Bateses,
in order to hear the new instrument.

“
For my companion tells
me,” said she, “that I absolutely promised Miss Bates last night,
that I would come this morning. I was not aware of it myself. I did
not know that I had fixed a day, but as he says I did, I am going
now.”

“
And while Mrs. Weston pays
her visit, I may be allowed, I hope,” said Frank Churchill, “to
join your party and wait for her at Hartfield—if you are going
home.”

Mrs. Weston was disappointed.

“
I thought you meant to go
with me. They would be very much pleased.”

“
Me! I should be quite in
the way. But, perhaps—I may be equally in the way here. Miss
Woodhouse looks as if she did not want me. My aunt always sends me
off when she is shopping. She says I fidget her to death; and Miss
Woodhouse looks as if she could almost say the same. What am I to
do?”

“
I am here on no business
of my own,” said Emma; “I am only waiting for my friend. She will
probably have soon done, and then we shall go home. But you had
better go with Mrs. Weston and hear the instrument.”

“
Well—if you advise it. But
(with a smile) if Colonel Campbell should have employed a careless
friend, and if it should prove to have an indifferent tone—what
shall I say? I shall be no support to Mrs. Weston. She might do
very well by herself. A disagreeable truth would be palatable
through her lips, but I am the wretchedest being in the world at a
civil falsehood.”

“
I do not believe any such
thing,” replied Emma. “I am persuaded that you can be as insincere
as your neighbours, when it is necessary; but there is no reason to
suppose the instrument is indifferent. Quite otherwise indeed, if I
understood Miss Fairfax’s opinion last night.”

“
Do come with me,” said
Mrs. Weston, “if it be not very disagreeable to you. It need not
detain us long. We will go to Hartfield afterwards. We will follow
them to Hartfield. I really wish you to call with me. It will be
felt so great an attention! and I always thought you meant
it.”

He could say no more; and
with the hope of Hartfield to reward him, returned with Mrs. Weston
to Mrs. Bates’s door. Emma watched them in, and then joined Harriet
at the interesting counter—trying, with all the force of her own
mind, to convince her that if she wanted plain muslin it was of no
use to look at figured; and that a blue ribbon, be it ever so
beautiful, would still never match her yellow pattern. At last it
was all settled, even to the destination of the parcel.

“
Should I send it to Mrs.
Goddard’s, ma’am?” asked Mrs. Ford. “Yes—no—yes, to Mrs. Goddard’s.
Only my pattern gown is at Hartfield. No, you shall send it to
Hartfield, if you please. But then, Mrs. Goddard will want to see
it. And I could take the pattern gown home any day. But I shall
want the ribbon directly—so it had better go to Hartfield—at least
the ribbon. You could make it into two parcels, Mrs. Ford, could
not you?”

“
It is not worth while,
Harriet, to give Mrs. Ford the trouble of two parcels.”

“
No more it is.”

“
No trouble in the world,
ma’am,” said the obliging Mrs. Ford.

“
Oh! but indeed I would
much rather have it only in one. Then, if you please, you shall
send it all to Mrs. Goddard’s—I do not know—No, I think, Miss
Woodhouse, I may just as well have it sent to Hartfield, and take
it home with me at night. What do you advise?”

“
That you do not give
another half-second to the subject. To Hartfield, if you please,
Mrs. Ford.”

“
Aye, that will be much
best,” said Harriet, quite satisfied, “I should not at all like to
have it sent to Mrs. Goddard’s.”

Voices approached the
shop—or rather one voice and two ladies: Mrs. Weston and Miss Bates
met them at the door.

“
My dear Miss Woodhouse,”
said the latter, “I am just run across to entreat the favour of you
to come and sit down with us a little while, and give us your
opinion of our new instrument; you and Miss Smith. How do you do,
Miss Smith? Very well I thank you. And I begged Mrs. Weston to come
with me, that I might be sure of succeeding.”