Emma and the Werewolves (40 page)

“
The Crown!”

“
Yes; if you and Mr.
Woodhouse see no objection, and I trust you cannot, my father hopes
his friends will be so kind as to visit him there. Better
accommodations, he can promise them, and not a less grateful
welcome than at Randalls. It is his own idea. Mrs. Weston sees no
objection to it, provided you are satisfied. This is what we all
feel. Oh! you were perfectly right! Ten couple, in either of the
Randalls rooms, would have been insufferable! Dreadful! I felt how
right you were the whole time, but was too anxious for securing any
thing to like to yield. Is not it a good exchange? You consent—I
hope you consent?”

“
It appears to me a plan
that nobody can object to, if Mr. and Mrs. Weston do not. I think
it admirable; and, as far as I can answer for myself, shall be most
happy—It seems the only improvement that could be. Papa, do you not
think it an excellent improvement?”

She was obliged to repeat and explain it,
before it was fully comprehended; and then, being quite new,
farther representations were necessary to make it acceptable.

“
No; he thought it very far
from an improvement—a very bad plan—much worse than the other. A
room at an inn was always damp and dangerous; never properly aired,
or fit to be inhabited. If they must dance, they had better dance
at Randalls. He had never been in the room at the Crown in his
life—did not know the people who kept it by sight. Oh! no—a very
bad plan. They would catch worse colds at the Crown than
anywhere.”

“
I was going to observe,
sir,” said Frank Churchill, “that one of the great recommendations
of this change would be the very little danger of any body’s
catching cold—so much less danger at the Crown than at Randalls!
Mr. Perry might have reason to regret the alteration, but nobody
else could.”

“
Sir,” said Mr. Woodhouse,
rather warmly, “you are very much mistaken if you suppose Mr. Perry
to be that sort of character. Mr. Perry is extremely concerned when
any of us are ill. But I do not understand how the room at the
Crown can be safer for you than your father’s house.”

“
From the very circumstance
of its being larger, sir. We shall have no occasion to open the
windows at all—not once the whole evening; and it is that dreadful
habit of opening the windows, letting in cold air upon heated
bodies, which (as you well know, sir) does the
mischief.”

“
Open the windows! but
surely, Mr. Churchill, nobody would think of opening the windows at
Randalls. Nobody could be so imprudent! I never heard of such a
thing. Dancing with open windows! I am sure, neither your father
nor Mrs. Weston (poor Miss Taylor that was) would suffer
it.”

“
Ah! sir—but a thoughtless
young person will sometimes step behind a window-curtain, and throw
up a sash, without its being suspected. I have often known it done
myself.”

“
Have you indeed, sir?
Bless me! I never could have supposed it. But I live out of the
world, and am often astonished at what I hear. However, this does
make a difference; and, perhaps, when we come to talk it over—but
these sort of things require a good deal of consideration. One
cannot resolve upon them in a hurry. If Mr. and Mrs. Weston will be
so obliging as to call here one morning, we may talk it over, and
see what can be done.”

“
But, unfortunately, sir,
my time is so limited—”

“
Oh!” interrupted Emma,
“there will be plenty of time for talking every thing over. There
is no hurry at all. If it can be contrived to be at the Crown,
papa, it will be very convenient for the horses. They will be so
near their own stable.”

“
So they will, my dear.
That is a great thing. Not that James ever complains; but it is
right to spare our horses when we can. If I could be sure of the
rooms being thoroughly aired—but is Mrs. Stokes to be trusted? I
doubt it. I do not know her, even by sight.”

“
I can answer for every
thing of that nature, sir, because it will be under Mrs. Weston’s
care. Mrs. Weston undertakes to direct the whole.”

“
There, papa! Now you must
be satisfied—Our own dear Mrs. Weston, who is carefulness itself.
Do not you remember what Mr. Perry said, so many years ago, when I
had the measles? ‘If Miss Taylor undertakes to wrap Miss Emma up,
you need not have any fears, sir.’ How often have I heard you speak
of it as such a compliment to her!”

“
Aye, very true. Mr. Perry
did say so. I shall never forget it. Poor little Emma! You were
very bad with the measles; that is, you would have been very bad,
but for Perry’s great attention. He came four times a day for a
week. He said, from the first, it was a very good sort—which was
our great comfort; but the measles are a dreadful complaint. I hope
whenever poor Isabella’s little ones have the measles, she will
send for Perry.”

“
My father and Mrs. Weston
are at the Crown at this moment,” said Frank Churchill, “examining
the capabilities of the house. I left them there and came on to
Hartfield, impatient for your opinion, and hoping you might be
persuaded to join them and give your advice on the spot. I was
desired to say so from both. It would be the greatest pleasure to
them, if you could allow me to attend you there. They can do
nothing satisfactorily without you.”

Emma was most happy to be called to such a
council; and her father, engaging to think it all over while she
was gone, the two young people set off together without delay for
the Crown. There were Mr. and Mrs. Weston; delighted to see her and
receive her approbation, very busy and very happy in their
different way; she, in some little distress; and he, finding every
thing perfect.

“
Emma,” said she, “this
paper is worse than I expected. Look! in places you see it is
dreadfully dirty; and the wainscot is more yellow and forlorn than
any thing I could have imagined.”

“
My dear, you are too
particular,” said her husband. “What does all that signify? You
will see nothing of it by candlelight. It will be as clean as
Randalls by candlelight. We never see any thing of it on our
club-nights.”

The ladies here probably exchanged looks
which meant, “Men never know when things are dirty or not;” and the
gentlemen perhaps thought each to himself, “Women will have their
little nonsenses and needless cares.”

One perplexity, however, arose, which the
gentlemen did not disdain. It regarded a supper-room. At the time
of the ballroom’s being built, suppers had not been in question;
and a small card-room adjoining, was the only addition. What was to
be done? This card-room would be wanted as a card-room now; or, if
cards were conveniently voted unnecessary by their four selves,
still was it not too small for any comfortable supper? Another room
of much better size might be secured for the purpose; but it was at
the other end of the house, and a long awkward passage must be gone
through to get at it. This made a difficulty. Mrs. Weston was
afraid of draughts for the young people in that passage; and
neither Emma nor the gentlemen could tolerate the prospect of being
miserably crowded at supper.

Mrs. Weston proposed having
no regular supper; merely sandwiches, &c., set out in the
little room; but that was scouted as a wretched suggestion. A
private dance, without sitting down to supper, was pronounced an
infamous fraud upon the rights of men and women; and Mrs. Weston
must not speak of it again. She then took another line of
expediency, and looking into the doubtful room, observed, “I do not
think it is so very small. We shall not be many, you
know.”

And Mr. Weston at the same time, walking
briskly with long steps through the passage, was calling out, “You
talk a great deal of the length of this passage, my dear. It is a
mere nothing after all; and not the least draught from the
stairs.”

“
I wish,” said Mrs. Weston,
“one could know which arrangement our guests in general would like
best. To do what would be most generally pleasing must be our
object—if one could but tell what that would be.”

“
Yes, very true,” cried
Frank, “very true. You want your neighbours’ opinions. I do not
wonder at you. If one could ascertain what the chief of them—the
Coles, for instance. They are not far off. Shall I call upon them?
Or Miss Bates? She is still nearer. And I do not know whether Miss
Bates is not as likely to understand the inclinations of the rest
of the people as any body. I think we do want a larger council.
Suppose I go and invite Miss Bates to join us?”

“
Well—if you please,” said
Mrs. Weston rather hesitating, “if you think she will be of any
use.”

“
You will get nothing to
the purpose from Miss Bates,” said Emma. “She will be all delight
and gratitude, but she will tell you nothing. She will not even
listen to your questions. I see no advantage in consulting Miss
Bates.”

“
But she is so amusing, so
extremely amusing! I am very fond of hearing Miss Bates talk. And I
need not bring the whole family, you know.”

Here Mr. Weston joined them, and on hearing
what was proposed, gave it his decided approbation.

“
Aye, do, Frank. Go and
fetch Miss Bates, and let us end the matter at once. She will enjoy
the scheme, I am sure; and I do not know a properer person for
shewing us how to do away difficulties. Fetch Miss Bates. We are
growing a little too nice. She is a standing lesson of how to be
happy. But fetch them both. Invite them both.”

“
Both sir! Can the old
lady?”

“
The old lady! No, the
young lady, to be sure. I shall think you a great blockhead, Frank,
if you bring the aunt without the niece.”

“
Oh! I beg your pardon,
sir. I did not immediately recollect. Undoubtedly if you wish it, I
will endeavour to persuade them both.” And away he ran.

Long before he reappeared,
attending the short, neat, brisk-moving aunt, and her elegant
niece, Mrs. Weston, like a sweet-tempered woman and a good wife,
had examined the passage again, and found the evils of it much less
than she had supposed before—indeed very trifling; and here ended
the difficulties of decision. All the rest, in speculation at
least, was perfectly smooth. All the minor arrangements of table
and chair, lights and music, tea and supper, made themselves; or
were left as mere trifles to be settled at any time between Mrs.
Weston and Mrs. Stokes. Every body invited, was certainly to come;
Frank had already written to Enscombe to propose staying a few days
beyond his fortnight, which could not possibly be refused. And a
delightful dance it was to be.

Most cordially, when Miss Bates arrived, did
she agree that it must. As a counsellor she was not wanted; but as
an approver, (a much safer character,) she was truly welcome. Her
approbation, at once general and minute, warm and incessant, could
not but please; and for another half-hour they were all walking to
and fro, between the different rooms, some suggesting, some
attending, and all in happy enjoyment of the future. The party did
not break up without Emma’s being positively secured for the two
first dances by the hero of the evening, nor without her
overhearing Mr. Weston whisper to his wife, “He has asked her, my
dear. That’s right. I knew he would!”

* * * *

Chapter XII

O
ne
thing only was
wanting to make the prospect
of the ball completely satisfactory to Emma—its being fixed for a
day within the granted term of Frank Churchill’s stay in Surry;
for, in spite of Mr. Weston’s confidence, she could not think it so
very impossible that the Churchills might not allow their nephew to
remain a day beyond his fortnight. But this was not judged
feasible. The preparations must take their time, nothing could be
properly ready till the third week were entered on, and for a few
days they must be planning, proceeding and hoping in uncertainty—at
the risk—in her opinion, the great risk, of its being all in
vain.

Enscombe however was
gracious, gracious in fact, if not in word. His wish of staying
longer evidently did not please; but it was not opposed. All was
safe and prosperous; and as the removal of one solicitude generally
makes way for another, Emma, being now certain of her ball, began
to adopt as the next vexation Mr. Knightley’s provoking
indifference about it. Either because he did not dance himself, or
because the plan had been formed without his being consulted, he
seemed resolved that it should not interest him, determined against
its exciting any present curiosity, or affording him any future
amusement. To her voluntary communications Emma could get no more
approving reply, than, “Very well. If the Westons think it worth
while to be at all this trouble for a few hours of noisy
entertainment, I have nothing to say against it, but that they
shall not chuse pleasures for me. Oh! yes, I must be there; I could
not refuse; and I will keep as much awake as I can; but I would
rather be at home, looking over William Larkins’s week’s account;
much rather, I confess. Pleasure in seeing dancing! not I, indeed—I
never look at it—I do not know who does. Fine dancing, I believe,
like virtue, must be its own reward. Those who are standing by are
usually thinking of something very different.”

This Emma felt was aimed at
her; and it made her quite angry. It was not in compliment to Jane
Fairfax however that he was so indifferent, or so indignant; he was
not guided by her feelings in reprobating the ball, for she enjoyed
the thought of it to an extraordinary degree. It made her
animated—open hearted—she voluntarily said, “Oh! Miss Woodhouse, I
hope nothing may happen to prevent the ball. What a disappointment
it would be! I do look forward to it, I own, with very great
pleasure.”