Emma and the Werewolves (44 page)

Emma had done. Her father was growing
nervous, and could not understand her. Her mind returned to Mrs.
Elton’s offences, and long, very long, did they occupy her.

* * * *

Chapter XV

E
mma was not required
, by any
subsequent discovery, to retract her ill opinion of Mrs. Elton. Her
observation had been pretty correct. Such as Mrs. Elton appeared to
her on this second interview, such she appeared whenever they met
again—self-important, presuming, familiar, ignorant, and ill-bred.
She had a little beauty and a little accomplishment, but so little
judgment that she thought herself coming with superior knowledge of
the world, to enliven and improve a country neighbourhood; and
conceived Miss Hawkins to have held such a place in society as Mrs.
Elton’s consequence only could surpass.

There was no reason to suppose Mr. Elton
thought at all differently from his wife. He seemed not merely
happy with her, but proud. He had the air of congratulating himself
on having brought such a woman to Highbury, as not even Miss
Woodhouse could equal; and the greater part of her new
acquaintance, disposed to commend, or not in the habit of judging,
following the lead of Miss Bates’s good-will, or taking it for
granted that the bride must be as clever and as agreeable as she
professed herself, were very well satisfied; so that Mrs. Elton’s
praise passed from one mouth to another as it ought to do,
unimpeded by Miss Woodhouse, who readily continued her first
contribution and talked with a good grace of her being “very
pleasant and very elegantly dressed.”

In one respect Mrs. Elton
grew even worse than she had appeared at first. Her feelings
altered towards Emma. Offended, probably, by the little
encouragement which her proposals of intimacy met with, she drew
back in her turn and gradually became much more cold and distant;
and though the effect was agreeable, the ill-will which produced it
was necessarily increasing Emma’s dislike. Her manners, too—and Mr.
Elton’s, were unpleasant towards Harriet. They were sneering and
negligent. Emma hoped it must rapidly work Harriet’s cure; but the
sensations which could prompt such behaviour sunk them both very
much. It was not to be doubted that poor Harriet’s attachment had
been an offering to conjugal unreserve, and her own share in the
story, under a colouring the least favourable to her and the most
soothing to him, had in all likelihood been given also. She was, of
course, the object of their joint dislike. When they had nothing
else to say, it must be always easy to begin abusing Miss
Woodhouse; and the enmity which they dared not shew in open
disrespect to her, found a broader vent in contemptuous treatment
of Harriet.

Mrs. Elton took a great
fancy to Jane Fairfax; and from the first. Not merely when a state
of warfare with one young lady might be supposed to recommend the
other, but from the very first; and she was not satisfied with
expressing a natural and reasonable admiration—but without
solicitation, or plea, or privilege, she must be wanting to assist
and befriend her. Before Emma had forfeited her confidence, and
about the third time of their meeting, she heard all Mrs. Elton’s
knight-errantry on the subject.

“
Jane Fairfax is absolutely
charming, Miss Woodhouse. I quite rave about Jane Fairfax. A sweet,
interesting creature. So mild and ladylike—and with such talents! I
assure you I think she has very extraordinary talents. I do not
scruple to say that she plays extremely well. I know enough of
music to speak decidedly on that point. Oh! she is absolutely
charming! You will laugh at my warmth—but, upon my word, I talk of
nothing but Jane Fairfax. And her situation is so calculated to
affect one! Miss Woodhouse, we must exert ourselves and endeavour
to do something for her. We must bring her forward. Such talent as
hers must not be suffered to remain unknown. I dare say you have
heard those charming lines of the poet,

‘Full many a flower is born to blush
unseen,

‘And waste its fragrance on the desert
air.’

We must not allow them to be verified in
sweet Jane Fairfax.”

“
I cannot think there is
any danger of it,” was Emma’s calm answer, “and when you are better
acquainted with Miss Fairfax’s situation and understand what her
home has been, with Colonel and Mrs. Campbell, I have no idea that
you will suppose her talents can be unknown.”

“
Oh! but dear Miss
Woodhouse, she is now in such retirement, such obscurity, so thrown
away. Whatever advantages she may have enjoyed with the Campbells
are so palpably at an end! And I think she feels it. I am sure she
does. She is very timid and silent. One can see that she feels the
want of encouragement. I like her the better for it. I must confess
it is a recommendation to me. I am a great advocate for
timidity—and I am sure one does not often meet with it. But in
those who are at all inferior, it is extremely prepossessing. Oh! I
assure you, Jane Fairfax is a very delightful character, and
interests me more than I can express.”

“
You appear to feel a great
deal—but I am not aware how you or any of Miss Fairfax’s
acquaintance here, any of those who have known her longer than
yourself, can shew her any other attention than” —

“
My dear Miss Woodhouse, a
vast deal may be done by those who dare to act. You and I need not
be afraid. If we set the example, many will follow it as far as
they can; though all have not our situations. We have carriages to
fetch and convey her home, and we live in a style which could not
make the addition of Jane Fairfax, at any time, the least
inconvenient. I should be extremely displeased if Wright were to
send us up such a dinner, as could make me regret having asked more
than Jane Fairfax to partake of it. I have no idea of that sort of
thing. It is not likely that I should, considering what I have been
used to. My greatest danger, perhaps, in housekeeping, may be quite
the other way, in doing too much, and being too careless of
expense. Maple Grove will probably be my model more than it ought
to be—for we do not at all affect to equal my brother, Mr.
Suckling, in income. However, my resolution is taken as to noticing
Jane Fairfax. I shall certainly have her very often at my house,
shall introduce her wherever I can, shall have musical parties to
draw out her talents, and shall be constantly on the watch for an
eligible situation. My acquaintance is so very extensive, that I
have little doubt of hearing of something to suit her shortly. I
shall introduce her, of course, very particularly to my brother and
sister when they come to us. I am sure they will like her
extremely; and when she gets a little acquainted with them, her
fears will completely wear off, for there really is nothing in the
manners of either but what is highly conciliating. I shall have her
very often indeed while they are with me, and I dare say we shall
sometimes find a seat for her in the barouche-landau in some of our
exploring parties.”

“
Poor Jane Fairfax!”
—thought Emma. “You have not deserved this. You may have done wrong
with regard to Mr. Dixon, but this is a punishment beyond what you
can have merited! The kindness and protection of Mrs. Elton! ‘Jane
Fairfax and Jane Fairfax.’ Heavens! Let me not suppose that she
dares go about, Emma Woodhouse-ing me! But upon my honour, there
seems no limits to the licentiousness of that woman’s
tongue!”

Emma had not to listen to
such paradings again—to any so exclusively addressed to herself—so
disgustingly decorated with a “dear Miss Woodhouse.” The change on
Mrs. Elton’s side soon afterwards appeared, and she was left in
peace—neither forced to be the very particular friend of Mrs.
Elton, nor, under Mrs. Elton’s guidance, the very active patroness
of Jane Fairfax, and only sharing with others in a general way, in
knowing what was felt, what was meditated, what was
done.

She looked on with some
amusement. Miss Bates’s gratitude for Mrs. Elton’s attentions to
Jane was in the first style of guileless simplicity and warmth. She
was quite one of her worthies—the most amiable, affable, delightful
woman—just as accomplished and condescending as Mrs. Elton meant to
be considered. Emma’s only surprize was that Jane Fairfax should
accept those attentions and tolerate Mrs. Elton as she seemed to
do. She heard of her walking with the Eltons, sitting with the
Eltons, spending a day with the Eltons! This was astonishing! She
could not have believed it possible that the taste or the pride of
Miss Fairfax could endure such society and friendship as the
Vicarage had to offer.

“
She is a riddle, quite a
riddle!” said she. “To chuse to remain here month after month,
under privations of every sort! And now to chuse the mortification
of Mrs. Elton’s notice and the penury of her conversation, rather
than return to the superior companions who have always loved her
with such real, generous affection.”

Jane had come to Highbury
professedly for three months; the Campbells were gone to Ireland
for three months; but now the Campbells had promised their daughter
to stay at least till Midsummer, and fresh invitations had arrived
for her to join them there. According to Miss Bates—it all came
from her—Mrs. Dixon had written most pressingly. Would Jane but go,
means were to be found, servants sent, friends contrived—no
travelling difficulty allowed to exist; but still she had declined
it!

“
She must have some motive,
more powerful than appears, for refusing this invitation,” was
Emma’s conclusion. “She must be under some sort of penance,
inflicted either by the Campbells or herself. There is great fear,
great caution, great resolution somewhere. She is not to be with
the Dixons. The decree is issued by somebody. But why must she
consent to be with the Eltons? Here is quite a separate
puzzle.”

Upon her speaking her wonder aloud on that
part of the subject, before the few who knew her opinion of Mrs.
Elton, Mrs. Weston ventured this apology for Jane.

“
We cannot suppose that she
has any great enjoyment at the Vicarage, my dear Emma—but it is
better than being always at home. Her aunt is a good creature, but,
as a constant companion, must be very tiresome. We must consider
what Miss Fairfax quits, before we condemn her taste for what she
goes to.”

“
You are right, Mrs.
Weston,” said Mr. Knightley warmly, “Miss Fairfax is as capable as
any of us of forming a just opinion of Mrs. Elton. Could she have
chosen with whom to associate, she would not have chosen her. But
(with a reproachful smile at Emma) she receives attentions from
Mrs. Elton, which nobody else pays her.”

Emma felt that Mrs. Weston was giving her a
momentary glance; and she was herself struck by his warmth. With a
faint blush, she presently replied, “Such attentions as Mrs.
Elton’s, I should have imagined, would rather disgust than gratify
Miss Fairfax. Mrs. Elton’s invitations I should have imagined any
thing but inviting.”

“
I should not wonder,” said
Mrs. Weston, “if Miss Fairfax were to have been drawn on beyond her
own inclination, by her aunt’s eagerness in accepting Mrs. Elton’s
civilities for her. Poor Miss Bates may very likely have committed
her niece and hurried her into a greater appearance of intimacy
than her own good sense would have dictated, in spite of the very
natural wish of a little change.”

Both felt rather anxious to hear him speak
again; and after a few minutes silence, he said,

“
Another thing must be
taken into consideration too—Mrs. Elton does not talk to Miss
Fairfax as she speaks of her. We all know the difference between
the pronouns he or she and thou, the plainest spoken amongst us; we
all feel the influence of a something beyond common civility in our
personal intercourse with each other—a something more early
implanted. We cannot give any body the disagreeable hints that we
may have been very full of the hour before. We feel things
differently. And besides the operation of this, as a general
principle, you may be sure that Miss Fairfax awes Mrs. Elton by her
superiority both of mind and manner; and that, face to face, Mrs.
Elton treats her with all the respect which she has a claim to.
Such a woman as Jane Fairfax probably never fell in Mrs. Elton’s
way before—and no degree of vanity can prevent her acknowledging
her own comparative littleness in action, if not in
consciousness.”

“
I know how highly you
think of Jane Fairfax,” said Emma. Little Henry was in her
thoughts, and a mixture of alarm and delicacy made her irresolute
what else to say.

“
Yes,” he replied, “any
body may know how highly I think of her.”

“
And yet,” said Emma,
beginning hastily and with an arch look, but soon stopping—it was
better, however, to know the worst at once—she hurried on— “And
yet, perhaps, you may hardly be aware yourself how highly it is.
The extent of your admiration may take you by surprize some day or
other.”

Mr. Knightley was hard at work upon the
lower buttons of his thick leather gaiters, and either the exertion
of getting them together, or some other cause, brought the colour
into his face, as he answered, “Oh! are you there? But you are
miserably behindhand. Mr. Cole gave me a hint of it six weeks
ago.”

He stopped. Emma felt her
foot pressed by Mrs. Weston, and did not herself know what to
think. In a moment he went on: “That will never be, however, I can
assure you. Miss Fairfax, I dare say, would not have me if I were
to ask her—and I am very sure I shall never ask her.”