Emma and the Werewolves (60 page)

“
Now,” said Emma, when they
were fairly beyond the sweep gates, “now Mr. Weston, do let me know
what has happened.”

“
No, no,” he gravely
replied. “Don’t ask me. I promised my wife to leave it all to her.
She will break it to you better than I can. Do not be impatient,
Emma; it will all come out too soon.”

“
Break it to me,” cried
Emma, standing still with terror. “Good gracious! Mr. Weston, tell
me at once. Something has happened in Brunswick Square. I know it
has. Tell me, I charge you tell me this moment what it
is.”

“
No, indeed you are
mistaken.”

“
Mr. Weston do not trifle
with me. Consider how many of my dearest friends are now in
Brunswick Square. Which of them is it? I charge you by all that is
sacred, not to attempt concealment.”

“
Upon my word,
Emma.”

“
Your word! why not your
honour! why not say upon your honour, that it has nothing to do
with any of them? Good Heavens! What can be to be broke to me, that
does not relate to one of that family?”

“
Upon my honour,” said he
very seriously, “it does not. It is not in the smallest degree
connected with any human being of the name of
Knightley.”

Emma’s courage returned, and she walked
on.

“
I was wrong,” he
continued, “in talking of its being broke to you. I should not have
used the expression. In fact, it does not concern you—it concerns
only myself, —that is, we hope. Humph! In short, my dear Emma,
there is no occasion to be so uneasy about it. I don’t say that it
is not a disagreeable business—but things might be much worse. If
we walk fast, we shall soon be at Randalls.”

Emma found that she must
wait; and now it required little effort. She asked no more
questions therefore, merely employed her own fancy, and that soon
pointed out to her the probability of its being some money
concern—something just come to light, of a disagreeable nature in
the circumstances of the family, —something which the late event at
Richmond had brought forward. Her fancy was very active. Half a
dozen natural children, perhaps—and poor Frank cut off! This,
though very undesirable, would be no matter of agony to her. It
inspired little more than an animating curiosity.

“
Who is that gentleman on
horseback?” said she, as they proceeded, speaking more to assist
Mr. Weston in keeping his secret, than with any other
view.

“
I do not know. One of the
Otways. Not Frank; it is not Frank, I assure you. You will not see
him. He is half way to Windsor by this time.”

“
Has your son been with
you, then?”

“
Oh! yes—did not you know?
Well, well, never mind.”

For a moment he was silent; and then added,
in a tone much more guarded and demure,

“
Yes, Frank came over this
morning, just to ask us how we did.”

They hurried on, and were
speedily at Randalls. “Well, my dear,” said he, as they entered the
room— “I have brought her, and now I hope you will soon be better.
I shall leave you together. There is no use in delay. I shall not
be far off, if you want me.” And Emma distinctly heard him add, in
a lower tone, before he quitted the room, “I have been as good as
my word. She has not the least idea.”

Mrs. Weston was looking so ill, and had an
air of so much perturbation, that Emma’s uneasiness increased; and
the moment they were alone, she eagerly said,

“
What is it my dear friend?
Something of a very unpleasant nature, I find, has occurred; do let
me know directly what it is. I have been walking all this way in
complete suspense. We both abhor suspense. Do not let mine continue
longer. It will do you good to speak of your distress, whatever it
may be.”

“
Have you indeed no idea?”
said Mrs. Weston in a trembling voice. “Cannot you, my dear
Emma—cannot you form a guess as to what you are to
hear?”

“
So far as that it relates
to Mr. Frank Churchill, I do guess.”

“
You are right. It does
relate to him, and I will tell you directly;” (resuming her work,
and seeming resolved against looking up.) “He has been here this
very morning, on a most extraordinary errand. It is impossible to
express our surprize. He came to speak to his father on a subject,
—to announce an attachment—”

She stopped to breathe. Emma thought first
of herself, and then of Harriet.

“
More than an attachment,
indeed,” resumed Mrs. Weston; “an engagement—a positive engagement.
What will you say, Emma—what will any body say, when it is known
that Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax are engaged; nay, that they
have been long engaged!”

Emma even jumped with surprize; and,
horror-struck, exclaimed,

“
Jane Fairfax! Good
gracious! You are not serious? You do not mean it?”

“
You may well be amazed,”
returned Mrs. Weston, still averting her eyes, and talking on with
eagerness, that Emma might have time to recover— “You may well be
amazed. But it is even so. There has been a solemn engagement
between them ever since October—formed at Weymouth, and kept a
secret from every body. Not a creature knowing it but
themselves—neither the Campbells, nor her family, nor his. It is so
wonderful, that though perfectly convinced of the fact, it is yet
almost incredible to myself. I can hardly believe it. I thought I
knew him.”

Emma scarcely heard what
was said. Her mind was divided between two ideas—her own former
conversations with him about Miss Fairfax; and poor Harriet; and
for some time she could only exclaim, and require confirmation,
repeated confirmation.

“
Well,” said she at last,
trying to recover herself; “this is a circumstance which I must
think of at least half a day, before I can at all comprehend it.
What! engaged to her all the winter—before either of them came to
Highbury?”

“
Engaged since October,
—secretly engaged. It has hurt me, Emma, very much. It has hurt his
father equally. Some part of his conduct we cannot
excuse.”

Emma pondered a moment, and then replied, “I
will not pretend not to understand you; and to give you all the
relief in my power, be assured that no such effect has followed his
attentions to me, as you are apprehensive of.”

Mrs. Weston looked up, afraid to believe;
but Emma’s countenance was as steady as her words.

“
That you may have less
difficulty in believing this boast, of my present perfect
indifference,” she continued, “I will farther tell you, that there
was a period in the early part of our acquaintance, when I did like
him, when I was very much disposed to be attached to him—nay, was
attached—and how it came to cease, is perhaps the wonder.
Fortunately, however, it did cease. I have really for some time
past, for at least these three months, cared nothing about him. You
may believe me, Mrs. Weston. This is the simple truth.”

Mrs. Weston kissed her with tears of joy;
and when she could find utterance, assured her, that this
protestation had done her more good than any thing else in the
world could do.

“
Mr. Weston will be almost
as much relieved as myself,” said she. “On this point we have been
wretched. It was our darling wish that you might be attached to
each other—and we were persuaded that it was so. Imagine what we
have been feeling on your account.”

“
I have escaped; and that I
should escape, may be a matter of grateful wonder to you and
myself. But this does not acquit him, Mrs. Weston; and I must say,
that I think him greatly to blame. What right had he to come among
us with affection and faith engaged, and with manners so very
disengaged? What right had he to endeavour to please, as he
certainly did—to distinguish any one young woman with persevering
attention, as he certainly did—while he really belonged to another?
How could he tell what mischief he might be doing? How could he
tell that he might not be making me in love with him? very wrong,
very wrong indeed.”

“
From something that he
said, my dear Emma, I rather imagine—”

“
And how could she bear
such behaviour! Composure with a witness! to look on, while
repeated attentions were offering to another woman, before her
face, and not resent it. That is a degree of placidity, which I can
neither comprehend nor respect.”

“
There were
misunderstandings between them, Emma; he said so expressly. He had
not time to enter into much explanation. He was here only a quarter
of an hour, and in a state of agitation which did not allow the
full use even of the time he could stay—but that there had been
misunderstandings he decidedly said. The present crisis, indeed,
seemed to be brought on by them; and those misunderstandings might
very possibly arise from the impropriety of his
conduct.”

“
Impropriety! Oh! Mrs.
Weston—it is too calm a censure. Much, much beyond impropriety! It
has sunk him, I cannot say how it has sunk him in my opinion. So
unlike what a man should be! None of that upright integrity, that
strict adherence to truth and principle, that disdain of trick and
littleness, which a man should display in every transaction of his
life.”

“
Nay, dear Emma, now I must
take his part; for though he has been wrong in this instance, I
have known him long enough to answer for his having many, very
many, good qualities; and—”

“
Good gracious!” cried
Emma, not attending to her. “Mrs. Smallridge, too! Jane actually on
the point of going as governess! What could he mean by such
horrible indelicacy? To suffer her to engage herself—to suffer her
even to think of such a measure!”

“
He knew nothing about it,
Emma. On this article I can fully acquit him. It was a private
resolution of hers, not communicated to him—or at least not
communicated in a way to carry conviction. Till yesterday, I know
he said he was in the dark as to her plans. They burst on him, I do
not know how, but by some letter or message—and it was the
discovery of what she was doing, of this very project of hers,
which determined him to come forward at once, own it all to his
uncle, throw himself on his kindness, and, in short, put an end to
the miserable state of concealment that had been carrying on so
long.”

Emma began to listen better.

“
I am to hear from him
soon,” continued Mrs. Weston. “He told me at parting, that he
should soon write; and he spoke in a manner which seemed to promise
me many particulars that could not be given now. Let us wait,
therefore, for this letter. It may bring many extenuations. It may
make many things intelligible and excusable which now are not to be
understood. Don’t let us be severe, don’t let us be in a hurry to
condemn him. Let us have patience. I must love him; and now that I
am satisfied on one point, the one material point, I am sincerely
anxious for its all turning out well, and ready to hope that it
may. They must both have suffered a great deal under such a system
of secresy and concealment.”

“
His sufferings,” replied
Emma dryly, “do not appear to have done him much harm. Well, and
how did Mr. Churchill take it?”

“
Most favourably for his
nephew—gave his consent with scarcely a difficulty. Conceive what
the events of a week have done in that family! While poor Mrs.
Churchill lived, I suppose there could not have been a hope, a
chance, a possibility; but scarcely are her remains at rest in the
family vault, than her husband is persuaded to act exactly opposite
to what she would have required. What a blessing it is, when undue
influence does not survive the grave! He gave his consent with very
little persuasion.”

“
Ah!” thought Emma, “he
would have done as much for Harriet.”

“
This was settled last
night, and Frank was off with the light this morning. He stopped at
Highbury, at the Bates’s, I fancy, some time—and then came on
hither; but was in such a hurry to get back to his uncle, to whom
he is just now more necessary than ever, that, as I tell you, he
could stay with us but a quarter of an hour. He was very much
agitated—very much, indeed—to a degree that made him appear quite a
different creature from any thing I had ever seen him before. In
addition to all the rest, there had been the shock of finding her
so very unwell, which he had had no previous suspicion of—and there
was every appearance of his having been feeling a great
deal.”

“
And do you really believe
the affair to have been carrying on with such perfect secresy? The
Campbells, the Dixons, did none of them know of the
engagement?”

Emma could not speak the name of Dixon
without a little blush.

“
None; not one. He
positively said that it had been known to no being in the world but
their two selves.”

“
Well,” said Emma, “I
suppose we shall gradually grow reconciled to the idea, and I wish
them very happy. But I shall always think it a very abominable sort
of proceeding. What has it been but a system of hypocrisy and
deceit, —espionage, and treachery? To come among us with
professions of openness and simplicity; and such a league in secret
to judge us all! Here have we been, the whole winter and spring,
completely duped, fancying ourselves all on an equal footing of
truth and honour, with two people in the midst of us who may have
been carrying round, comparing and sitting in judgment on
sentiments and words that were never meant for both to hear. They
must take the consequence, if they have heard each other spoken of
in a way not perfectly agreeable!”