Emma and the Werewolves (50 page)

Frank Churchill returned to
his station by Emma; and as soon as Miss Bates was quiet, she found
herself necessarily overhearing the discourse of Mrs. Elton and
Miss Fairfax, who were standing a little way behind her. He was
thoughtful. Whether he were overhearing too, she could not
determine. After a good many compliments to Jane on her dress and
look, compliments very quietly and properly taken, Mrs. Elton was
evidently wanting to be complimented herself—and it was, “How do
you like my gown? How do you like my trimming? How has Wright done
my hair?” —with many other relative questions, all answered with
patient politeness. Mrs. Elton then said, “Nobody can think less of
dress in general than I do—but upon such an occasion as this, when
every body’s eyes are so much upon me, and in compliment to the
Westons—who I have no doubt are giving this ball chiefly to do me
honour—I would not wish to be inferior to others. And I see very
few pearls in the room except mine. So Frank Churchill is a capital
dancer, I understand. We shall see if our styles suit. A fine young
man certainly is Frank Churchill. I like him very well.”

At this moment Frank began talking so
vigorously, that Emma could not but imagine he had overheard his
own praises, and did not want to hear more; and the voices of the
ladies were drowned for a while, till another suspension brought
Mrs. Elton’s tones again distinctly forward. Mr. Elton had just
joined them, and his wife was exclaiming,

“
Oh! you have found us out
at last, have you, in our seclusion? I was this moment telling
Jane, I thought you would begin to be impatient for tidings of
us.”

“
Jane!” repeated Frank
Churchill, with a look of surprize and displeasure. “That is
easy—but Miss Fairfax does not disapprove it, I
suppose.”

“
How do you like Mrs.
Elton?” said Emma in a whisper.

“
Not at all.”

“
You are
ungrateful.”

“
Ungrateful! What do you
mean?” Then changing from a frown to a smile— “No, do not tell me—I
do not want to know what you mean. Where is my father? When are we
to begin dancing?”

Emma could hardly understand him; he seemed
in an odd humour. He walked off to find his father, but was quickly
back again with both Mr. and Mrs. Weston. He had met with them in a
little perplexity, which must be laid before Emma. It had just
occurred to Mrs. Weston that Mrs. Elton must be asked to begin the
ball; that she would expect it; which interfered with all their
wishes of giving Emma that distinction. Emma heard the sad truth
with fortitude.

“
And what are we to do for
a proper partner for her?” said Mr. Weston. “She will think Frank
ought to ask her.”

Frank turned instantly to
Emma, to claim her former promise; and boasted himself an engaged
man, which his father looked his most perfect approbation of—and it
then appeared that Mrs. Weston was wanting him to dance with Mrs.
Elton himself, and that their business was to help to persuade him
into it, which was done pretty soon. Mr. Weston and Mrs. Elton led
the way, Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse followed. Emma must
submit to stand second to Mrs. Elton, though she had always
considered the ball as peculiarly for her. It was almost enough to
make her think of marrying. Mrs. Elton had undoubtedly the
advantage, at this time, in vanity completely gratified; for though
she had intended to begin with Frank Churchill, she could not lose
by the change. Mr. Weston might be his son’s superior. In spite of
this little rub, however, Emma was smiling with enjoyment,
delighted to see the respectable length of the set as it was
forming, and to feel that she had so many hours of unusual
festivity before her. She was more disturbed by Mr. Knightley’s not
dancing than by any thing else. There he was, among the
standers-by, where he ought not to be; he ought to be dancing—not
classing himself with the husbands, and fathers, and whist-players,
who were pretending to feel an interest in the dance till their
rubbers were made up—so young as he looked! He could not have
appeared to greater advantage perhaps anywhere, than where he had
placed himself. His tall, firm, upright figure, among the bulky
forms and stooping shoulders of the elderly men, was such as Emma
felt must draw every body’s eyes; and, excepting her own partner,
there was not one among the whole row of young men who could be
compared with him. He moved a few steps nearer, and those few steps
were enough to prove in how gentlemanlike a manner, with what
natural grace, he must have danced, would he but take the trouble.
Whenever she caught his eye, she forced him to smile; but in
general he was looking grave as if his mind was somewhere else and
something haunted him from afar. The look in his eyes betrayed the
fact that he wished he were elsewhere, though doing what, she could
not imagine. She wished he could love a ballroom better, and could
like Frank Churchill better. He seemed often observing her. She
must not flatter herself that he thought of her dancing, but if he
were criticising her behaviour, she did not feel afraid. There was
nothing like flirtation between her and her partner. They seemed
more like cheerful, easy friends, than lovers. That Frank Churchill
thought less of her than he had done, was indubitable.

The ball proceeded
pleasantly. The anxious cares, the incessant attentions of Mrs.
Weston, were not thrown away. Every body seemed happy; and the
praise of being a delightful ball, which is seldom bestowed till
after a ball has ceased to be, was repeatedly given in the very
beginning of the existence of this. Of very important, very
recordable events, it was not more productive than such meetings
usually are. There was one, however, which Emma thought something
of. The two last dances before supper were begun, and Harriet had
no partner; the only young lady sitting down; and so equal had been
hitherto the number of dancers, that how there could be any one
disengaged was the wonder! But Emma’s wonder lessened soon
afterwards, on seeing Mr. Elton sauntering about. He would not ask
Harriet to dance if it were possible to be avoided: she was sure he
would not—and she was expecting him every moment to escape into the
card-room.

Escape, however, was not his plan. He came
to the part of the room where the sitters-by were collected, spoke
to some, and walked about in front of them, as if to shew his
liberty, and his resolution of maintaining it. He did not omit
being sometimes directly before Miss Smith, or speaking to those
who were close to her. Emma saw it. She was not yet dancing; she
was working her way up from the bottom, and had therefore leisure
to look around, and by only turning her head a little she saw it
all. When she was half-way up the set, the whole group were exactly
behind her, and she would no longer allow her eyes to watch; but
Mr. Elton was so near, that she heard every syllable of a dialogue
which just then took place between him and Mrs. Weston; and she
perceived that his wife, who was standing immediately above her,
was not only listening also, but even encouraging him by
significant glances. The kind-hearted, gentle Mrs. Weston had left
her seat to join him and say, “Do not you dance, Mr. Elton?” to
which his prompt reply was, “Most readily, Mrs. Weston, if you will
dance with me.”

“
Me! oh! no—I would get you
a better partner than myself. I am no dancer.”

“
If Mrs. Gilbert wishes to
dance,” said he, “I shall have great pleasure, I am sure—for,
though beginning to feel myself rather an old married man, and that
my dancing days are over, it would give me very great pleasure at
any time to stand up with an old friend like Mrs.
Gilbert.”

“
Mrs. Gilbert does not mean
to dance, but there is a young lady disengaged whom I should be
very glad to see dancing—Miss Smith.” “Miss Smith! oh! I had not
observed. You are extremely obliging—and if I were not an old
married man. But my dancing days are over, Mrs. Weston. You will
excuse me. Any thing else I should be most happy to do, at your
command—but my dancing days are over.”

Mrs. Weston said no more; and Emma could
imagine with what surprize and mortification she must be returning
to her seat. This was Mr. Elton! the amiable, obliging, gentle Mr.
Elton. She looked round for a moment; he had joined Mr. Knightley
at a little distance, and was arranging himself for settled
conversation, while smiles of high glee passed between him and his
wife.

She would not look again. Her heart was in a
glow, and she feared her face might be as hot.

In another moment a happier sight caught
her; Mr. Knightley leading Harriet to the set! Never had she been
more surprized, seldom more delighted, than at that instant. She
was all pleasure and gratitude, both for Harriet and herself, and
longed to be thanking him; and though too distant for speech, her
countenance said much, as soon as she could catch his eye
again.

His dancing proved to be just what she had
believed it, extremely good; and Harriet would have seemed almost
too lucky, if it had not been for the cruel state of things before,
and for the very complete enjoyment and very high sense of the
distinction which her happy features announced. It was not thrown
away on her, she bounded higher than ever, flew farther down the
middle, and was in a continual course of smiles.

Mr. Elton had retreated into the card-room,
looking (Emma trusted) very foolish. She did not think he was quite
so hardened as his wife, though growing very like her; she spoke
some of her feelings, by observing audibly to her partner,

“
Knightley has taken pity
on poor little Miss Smith! Very goodnatured, I declare.”

Supper was announced. The
move began; and Miss Bates might be heard from that moment, without
interruption, till her being seated at table and taking up her
spoon.

“
Jane, Jane, my dear Jane,
where are you? Here is your tippet. Mrs. Weston begs you to put on
your tippet. She says she is afraid there will be draughts in the
passage, though every thing has been done—One door nailed
up—Quantities of matting—My dear Jane, indeed you must. Mr.
Churchill, oh! you are too obliging! How well you put it on! so
gratified! Excellent dancing indeed! Yes, my dear, I ran home, as I
said I should, to help grandmama to bed, and got back again, and
nobody missed me. I set off without saying a word, just as I told
you. Grandmama was quite well, had a charming evening with Mr.
Woodhouse, a vast deal of chat, and backgammon. Tea was made
downstairs, biscuits and baked apples and wine before she came
away: amazing luck in some of her throws: and she inquired a great
deal about you, how you were amused, and who were your partners.
‘Oh!’ said I, ‘I shall not forestall Jane; I left her dancing with
Mr. George Otway; she will love to tell you all about it herself
to-morrow: her first partner was Mr. Elton, I do not know who will
ask her next, perhaps Mr. William Cox.’ My dear sir, you are too
obliging. Is there nobody you would not rather? I am not helpless.
Sir, you are most kind. Upon my word, Jane on one arm, and me on
the other! Stop, stop, let us stand a little back, Mrs. Elton is
going; dear Mrs. Elton, how elegant she looks! Beautiful lace! Now
we all follow in her train. Quite the queen of the evening! Well,
here we are at the passage. Two steps, Jane, take care of the two
steps. Oh! no, there is but one. Well, I was persuaded there were
two. How very odd! I was convinced there were two, and there is but
one. I never saw any thing equal to the comfort and style—Candles
everywhere. I was telling you of your grandmama, Jane, —There was a
little disappointment. The baked apples and biscuits, excellent in
their way, you know; but there was a delicate fricassee of
sweetbread and some asparagus brought in at first, and good Mr.
Woodhouse, not thinking the asparagus quite boiled enough, sent it
all out again. Now there is nothing grandmama loves better than
sweetbread and asparagus—so she was rather disappointed, but we
agreed we would not speak of it to any body, for fear of its
getting round to dear Miss Woodhouse, who would be so very much
concerned! Well, this is brilliant! I am all amazement! could not
have supposed any thing!—Such elegance and profusion! I have seen
nothing like it since—Well, where shall we sit? where shall we sit?
Anywhere, so that Jane is not in a draught. Where I sit is of no
consequence. Oh! do you recommend this side? Well, I am sure, Mr.
Churchill—only it seems too good—but just as you please. What you
direct in this house cannot be wrong. Dear Jane, how shall we ever
recollect half the dishes for grandmama? Soup too! Bless me! I
should not be helped so soon, but it smells most excellent, and I
cannot help beginning.”

Emma had no opportunity of speaking to Mr.
Knightley till after supper; but, when they were all in the
ballroom again, her eyes invited him irresistibly to come to her
and be thanked. He was warm in his reprobation of Mr. Elton’s
conduct; it had been unpardonable rudeness; and Mrs. Elton’s looks
also received the due share of censure.

“
They aimed at wounding
more than Harriet,” said he. “Emma, why is it that they are your
enemies?”

He looked with smiling penetration; and, on
receiving no answer, added, “She ought not to be angry with you, I
suspect, whatever he may be. To that surmise, you say nothing, of
course; but confess, Emma, that you did want him to marry
Harriet.”

“
I did,” replied Emma, “and
they cannot forgive me.”

He shook his head; but there was a smile of
indulgence with it, and he only said,

“
I shall not scold you. I
leave you to your own reflections.”