Emma and the Werewolves (58 page)

Emma was most sincerely
interested. Her heart had been long growing kinder towards Jane;
and this picture of her present sufferings acted as a cure of every
former ungenerous suspicion, and left her nothing but pity; and the
remembrance of the less just and less gentle sensations of the
past, obliged her to admit that Jane might very naturally resolve
on seeing Mrs. Cole or any other steady friend, when she might not
bear to see herself. She spoke as she felt, with earnest regret and
solicitude—sincerely wishing that the circumstances which she
collected from Miss Bates to be now actually determined on, might
be as much for Miss Fairfax’s advantage and comfort as possible.
“It must be a severe trial to them all. She had understood it was
to be delayed till Colonel Campbell’s return.”

“
So very kind!” replied
Miss Bates. “But you are always kind.”

There was no bearing such
an “always;” and to break through her dreadful gratitude, Emma made
the direct inquiry of—

“
Where—may I ask? is Miss
Fairfax going?”

“
To a Mrs.
Smallridge—charming woman—most superior—to have the charge of her
three little girls—delightful children. Impossible that any
situation could be more replete with comfort; if we except,
perhaps, Mrs. Suckling’s own family, and Mrs. Bragge’s; but Mrs.
Smallridge is intimate with both, and in the very same
neighbourhood: lives only four miles from Maple Grove. Jane will be
only four miles from Maple Grove.”

“
Mrs. Elton, I suppose, has
been the person to whom Miss Fairfax owes—”

“
Yes, our good Mrs. Elton.
The most indefatigable, true friend. She would not take a denial.
She would not let Jane say, ‘No;’ for when Jane first heard of it,
(it was the day before yesterday, the very morning we were at
Donwell,) when Jane first heard of it, she was quite decided
against accepting the offer, and for the reasons you mention;
exactly as you say, she had made up her mind to close with nothing
till Colonel Campbell’s return, and nothing should induce her to
enter into any engagement at present—and so she told Mrs. Elton
over and over again—and I am sure I had no more idea that she would
change her mind! but that good Mrs. Elton, whose judgment never
fails her, saw farther than I did. It is not every body that would
have stood out in such a kind way as she did, and refuse to take
Jane’s answer; but she positively declared she would not write any
such denial yesterday, as Jane wished her; she would wait—and, sure
enough, yesterday evening it was all settled that Jane should go.
Quite a surprize to me! I had not the least idea! Jane took Mrs.
Elton aside, and told her at once, that upon thinking over the
advantages of Mrs. Smallridge’s situation, she had come to the
resolution of accepting it. I did not know a word of it till it was
all settled.”

“
You spent the evening with
Mrs. Elton?”

“
Yes, all of us; Mrs. Elton
would have us come. It was settled so, upon the hill, while we were
walking about with Mr. Knightley. ‘You must all spend your evening
with us,’ said she. ‘I positively must have you all
come.’”

“
Mr. Knightley was there
too, was he?”

“
No, not Mr. Knightley; he
declined it from the first; and though I thought he would come,
because Mrs. Elton declared she would not let him off, he did not;
but my mother, and Jane, and I, were all there, and a very
agreeable evening we had. Such kind friends, you know, Miss
Woodhouse, one must always find agreeable, though every body seemed
rather fagged after the morning’s party. Even pleasure, you know,
is fatiguing—and I cannot say that any of them seemed very much to
have enjoyed it. However, I shall always think it a very pleasant
party, and feel extremely obliged to the kind friends who included
me in it.”

“
Miss Fairfax, I suppose,
though you were not aware of it, had been making up her mind the
whole day?”

“
I dare say she
had.”

“
Whenever the time may
come, it must be unwelcome to her and all her friends—but I hope
her engagement will have every alleviation that is possible—I mean,
as to the character and manners of the family.”

“
Thank you, dear Miss
Woodhouse. Yes, indeed, there is every thing in the world that can
make her happy in it. Except the Sucklings and Bragges, there is
not such another nursery establishment, so liberal and elegant, in
all Mrs. Elton’s acquaintance. Mrs. Smallridge, a most delightful
woman! A style of living almost equal to Maple Grove—and as to the
children, except the little Sucklings and little Bragges, there are
not such elegant sweet children anywhere. Jane will be treated with
such regard and kindness! It will be nothing but pleasure, a life
of pleasure. And her salary! I really cannot venture to name her
salary to you, Miss Woodhouse. Even you, used as you are to great
sums, would hardly believe that so much could be given to a young
person like Jane.”

“
Ah! madam,” cried Emma,
“if other children are at all like what I remember to have been
myself, I should think five times the amount of what I have ever
yet heard named as a salary on such occasions, dearly
earned.”

“
You are so noble in your
ideas!”

“
And when is Miss Fairfax
to leave you?”

“
Very soon, very soon,
indeed; that’s the worst of it. Within a fortnight. Mrs. Smallridge
is in a great hurry. My poor mother does not know how to bear it.
So then, I try to put it out of her thoughts, and say, Come ma’am,
do not let us think about it any more.”

“
Her friends must all be
sorry to lose her; and will not Colonel and Mrs. Campbell be sorry
to find that she has engaged herself before their
return?”

“
Yes; Jane says she is sure
they will; but yet, this is such a situation as she cannot feel
herself justified in declining. I was so astonished when she first
told me what she had been saying to Mrs. Elton, and when Mrs. Elton
at the same moment came congratulating me upon it! It was before
tea—stay—no, it could not be before tea, because we were just going
to cards—and yet it was before tea, because I remember thinking—Oh!
no, now I recollect, now I have it; something happened before tea,
but not that. Mr. Elton was called out of the room before tea, old
John Abdy’s son wanted to speak with him. Poor old John, I have a
great regard for him; he was clerk to my poor father twenty-seven
years; and now, poor old man, he is bed-ridden, and very poorly
with the rheumatic gout in his joints—I must go and see him to-day;
and so will Jane, I am sure, if she gets out at all. And poor
John’s son came to talk to Mr. Elton about relief from the parish;
he is very well to do himself, you know, being head man at the
Crown, ostler, and every thing of that sort, but still he cannot
keep his father without some help; and so, when Mr. Elton came
back, he told us what John ostler had been telling him, and then it
came out about the chaise having been sent to Randalls to take Mr.
Frank Churchill to Richmond. That was what happened before tea. It
was after tea that Jane spoke to Mrs. Elton.”

Miss Bates would hardly give Emma time to
say how perfectly new this circumstance was to her; but as without
supposing it possible that she could be ignorant of any of the
particulars of Mr. Frank Churchill’s going, she proceeded to give
them all, it was of no consequence.

What Mr. Elton had learned
from the ostler on the subject, being the accumulation of the
ostler’s own knowledge, and the knowledge of the servants at
Randalls, was, that a messenger had come over from Richmond soon
after the return of the party from Box Hill—which messenger,
however, had been no more than was expected; and that Mr. Churchill
had sent his nephew a few lines, containing, upon the whole, a
tolerable account of Mrs. Churchill, and only wishing him not to
delay coming back beyond the next morning early; but that Mr. Frank
Churchill having resolved to go home directly, without waiting at
all, and his horse seeming to have got a cold, Tom had been sent
off immediately for the Crown chaise, and the ostler had stood out
and seen it pass by, the boy going a good pace, and driving very
steady.

There was nothing in all
this either to astonish or interest, and it caught Emma’s attention
only as it united with the subject which already engaged her mind.
The contrast between Mrs. Churchill’s importance in the world, and
Jane Fairfax’s, struck her; one was every thing, the other
nothing—and she sat musing on the difference of woman’s destiny,
and quite unconscious on what her eyes were fixed, till roused by
Miss Bates’s saying,

“
Aye, I see what you are
thinking of, the pianoforte. What is to become of that? Very true.
Poor dear Jane was talking of it just now. ‘You must go,’ said she.
‘You and I must part. You will have no business here. Let it stay,
however,’ said she; ‘give it houseroom till Colonel Campbell comes
back. I shall talk about it to him; he will settle for me; he will
help me out of all my difficulties.’ — And to this day, I do
believe, she knows not whether it was his present or his
daughter’s.”

Now Emma was obliged to think of the
pianoforte; and the remembrance of all her former fanciful and
unfair conjectures was so little pleasing, that she soon allowed
herself to believe her visit had been long enough; and, with a
repetition of every thing that she could venture to say of the good
wishes which she really felt, took leave.

* * * *

Chapter IX

E
mma’s pensive meditations, as
she
walked home, were not interrupted; but on entering the parlour, she
found those who must rouse her. Mr. Knightley and Harriet had
arrived during her absence, and were sitting with her father. Mr.
Knightley immediately got up, and in a manner decidedly graver than
usual, said,

“
I would not go away
without seeing you, but I have no time to spare, and therefore must
now be gone directly. I am going to London, to spend a few days
with John and Isabella. Have you any thing to send or say, besides
the ‘love,’ which nobody carries?”

“
Nothing at all. But is not
this a sudden scheme?”

“
Yes—rather—I have been
thinking of it some little time.”

Emma was sure he had not
forgiven her; he looked unlike himself. Time, however, she thought,
would tell him that they ought to be friends again. While he stood,
as if meaning to go, but not going—her father began his
inquiries.

“
Well, my dear, and did you
get there safely? And how did you find my worthy old friend and her
daughter? I dare say they must have been very much obliged to you
for coming. Dear Emma has been to call on Mrs. and Miss Bates, Mr.
Knightley, as I told you before. She is always so attentive to
them!”

Emma’s colour was
heightened by this unjust praise; and with a smile, and shake of
the head, which spoke much, she looked at Mr. Knightley. It seemed
as if there were an instantaneous impression in her favour, as if
his eyes received the truth from her’s, and all that had passed of
good in her feelings were at once caught and honoured. He looked at
her with a glow of regard. She was warmly gratified—and in another
moment still more so, by a little movement of more than common
friendliness on his part. He took her hand; whether she had not
herself made the first motion, she could not say—she might,
perhaps, have rather offered it—but he took her hand, pressed it,
and certainly was on the point of carrying it to his lips—when,
from some fancy or other, he suddenly let it go. Why he should feel
such a scruple, why he should change his mind when it was all but
done, she could not perceive. He would have judged better, she
thought, if he had not stopped. The intention, however, was
indubitable; and whether it was that his manners had in general so
little gallantry, or however else it happened, but she thought
nothing became him more. It was with him, of so simple, yet so
dignified a nature. She could not but recall the attempt with great
satisfaction. It spoke such perfect amity. He asked her to join him
for a walk before his departure and Emma agreed. They moved out
into the warm rays of the sun as they walked. He pulled something
from the pocket of his coat. It was black and looked to be a
rag.

“
Emma, I have thought long
and hard over this but I feel you must know the truth,” Knightley
said, his voice tense and strained. He tossed her the object he’d
been fondling. She caught it and unfolded it with a start. It was a
black mask. The mask of the stranger who appeared at Hartfield so
long ago and slain the wolves on that dark and rainy afternoon of
blood and terror.

“
It was you,” she
gasped.

Knightley could only nod. “It was indeed. As
you know, Highbury is once more safe for all. The evil that stalked
these parts is dead and returned to the depths of the Hell from
which it came. I need you to know, Emma, that I am responsible for
that. No one else knows or may know. I am a warrior, chosen by the
Lord God Almighty to stand for what is holy and just on this
Earth.”

“
Is this a joke?” She
smiled.

“
No,” he answered darkly.
“It is the truth. I seek out and confront evil with the might of
the Lord watching over me when the need arises. The monsters you
faced on the day you saw me in that mask were
lycanthropes—shape-changers who could be both wolf and man. They
were what claimed so many lives in our village. They and I, in our
battles, somehow awoke an ancient demon from their own legends and
it slaughtered them all before I had the chance. On the night of
our dance, I stood face to face with that demon and ended its time
in this world. My life is fraught with danger, supernatural evils,
and a calling I must answer. Until now, I have told no one of it
but we being . . . close . . . I thought perhaps it was time I did
and trusted someone other than myself.”