Emma and the Werewolves (24 page)

“
And mine,” said Mr.
Knightley warmly, “is, that if he turn out any thing like it, he
will be the most insufferable fellow breathing! What! at
three-and-twenty to be the king of his company—the great man—the
practised politician, who is to read every body’s character, and
make every body’s talents conduce to the display of his own
superiority; to be dispensing his flatteries around, that he may
make all appear like fools compared with himself! My dear Emma,
your own good sense could not endure such a puppy when it came to
the point.”

“
I will say no more about
him,” cried Emma, “you turn every thing to evil. We are both
prejudiced; you against, I for him; and we have no chance of
agreeing till he is really here.”

“
Prejudiced! I am not
prejudiced.”

“
But I am very much, and
without being at all ashamed of it. My love for Mr. and Mrs. Weston
gives me a decided prejudice in his favour.”

“
He is a person I never
think of from one month’s end to another,” said Mr. Knightley, with
a degree of vexation, which made Emma immediately talk of something
else, though she could not comprehend why he should be
angry.

To take a dislike to a young man, only
because he appeared to be of a different disposition from himself,
was unworthy the real liberality of mind which she was always used
to acknowledge in him; for with all the high opinion of himself,
which she had often laid to his charge, she had never before for a
moment supposed it could make him unjust to the merit of
another.

Knightley left Emma and headed off to see to
the duties of the rest of his day. There was much to be done at the
vicarage. His holy quest consumed more and more of his time.
Tonight, he would arm himself and set out once more. The Half-form
was surely waiting on him.

Likewise the wolves, had it not destroyed
them already.

* * * *

VOLUME II

* * * *

Chapter I

E
mma and Harriet had
been walking
together one morning, and, in Emma’s opinion, had been talking
enough of Mr. Elton for that day. She could not think that
Harriet’s solace or her own sins required more; and she was
therefore industriously getting rid of the subject as they
returned; but it burst out again when she thought she had
succeeded, and after speaking some time of what the poor must
suffer in winter, and receiving no other answer than a very
plaintive, “Mr. Elton is so good to the poor!” she found something
else must be done.

Emma saw it as they rounded
the bend in the road. It stood among the trees watching them. The
thing was horrible. It was a sick cross between a beast and man
that stood over ten feet tall. Flies buzzed around the rotting
tissue of its body. She truly believed it dead and the corpse
somehow positioned to stand on its feet . . . until she noticed its
eyes. They were alive with fiery blackness that spoke of hate and
evil. She could feel them burning into her soul. Emma knew it was
dead but somehow it was still very much alive. Harriet stopped to
see why Emma stopped and Emma pounced on her, covering the girl’s
mouth with her hand. “Don’t scream,” Emma whispered.

“
What . . . what is that
thing?” Harriet asked, tears of fear already forming and sliding
down her smooth cheeks.

The thing made no move towards them. It
merely stood where it was like some kind of aloof deity that was
too far above them in its nature to pay them any true heed. Emma
forced Harriet into silence. “Keep walking and pretend it isn’t
there,” she warned.

The pair scampered on along
the road, leaving the thing behind them. As soon as they were a
good distance away, Harriet demanded of her, “Emma, what was that
thing? Is it the monster everyone keeps talking about that has
killed so many people?”

“
I don’t know,” Emma
answered, trying to sort things out for herself. “It might be.
Whatever it is, it’s dead. I can promise you that. Did you not
smell it?” Emma waved at the air. “That thing surely is not of
God’s world. I cannot imagine how a thing such as that even came
into existence.”

“
Will it come after us?”
Harriet asked, filled with fear. “Should we go and tell someone so
that the men may come and destroy it?”

“
No, it’s dead, Harriet,”
Emma said. “Let us get away from this place and talk of the matter
no more. I will not dwell on something so dreadful on a day as
beautiful as this. If my father were to hear of it, I would never
be free again until the thing’s head hung upon someone’s mantle.
And it will be gone long before any help we could summon would
arrive. Let’s keep this to ourselves for now and relate to it
someone we trust when the time for such is presented to
us.”

“
But Emma . . .” Harriet
protested.

“
Harriet, we have plenty of
troubles of our own to deal with. Let us carry on with the plans we
had set for this day. There shall be time enough for nightmares
later.”

The pair continued on in
silence, looking over their shoulders with every few steps to make
sure they were still alone on the road. As they were approaching
the house where Mrs. and Miss Bates lived their mood began to
soften at last. Emma was determined to call upon them and seek
safety in numbers. There was always sufficient reason for such an
attention; Mrs. and Miss Bates loved to be called on, and she knew
she was considered by the very few who presumed ever to see
imperfection in her, as rather negligent in that respect, and as
not contributing what she ought to the stock of their scanty
comforts.

She had had many a hint
from Mr. Knightley and some from her own heart, as to her
deficiency—but none were equal to counteract the persuasion of its
being very disagreeable—a waste of time—tiresome women—and all the
horror of being in danger of falling in with the second-rate and
third-rate of Highbury, who were calling on them for ever, and
therefore she seldom went near them. But now she made the sudden
resolution of not passing their door without going in—observing, as
she proposed it to Harriet, that, as well as she could calculate,
they were just now quite safe from any letter from Jane
Fairfax.

The house belonged to
people in business. Mrs. and Miss Bates occupied the drawing-room
floor; and there, in the very moderate-sized apartment, which was
every thing to them, the visitors were most cordially and even
gratefully welcomed; the quiet neat old lady, who with her knitting
was seated in the warmest corner, wanting even to give up her place
to Miss Woodhouse, and her more active, talking daughter, almost
ready to overpower them with care and kindness, thanks for their
visit, solicitude for their shoes, anxious inquiries after Mr.
Woodhouse’s health, cheerful communications about her mother’s, and
sweet-cake from the beaufet— “Mrs. Cole had just been there, just
called in for ten minutes, and had been so good as to sit an hour
with them, and she had taken a piece of cake and been so kind as to
say she liked it very much; and, therefore, she hoped Miss
Woodhouse and Miss Smith would do them the favour to eat a piece
too.”

The mention of the Coles was sure to be
followed by that of Mr. Elton. There was intimacy between them, and
Mr. Cole had heard from Mr. Elton since his going away. Emma knew
what was coming; they must have the letter over again, and settle
how long he had been gone, and how much he was engaged in company,
and what a favourite he was wherever he went, and how full the
Master of the Ceremonies’ ball had been; and she went through it
very well, with all the interest and all the commendation that
could be requisite, and always putting forward to prevent Harriet’s
being obliged to say a word.

This she had been prepared
for when she entered the house; but meant, having once talked him
handsomely over, to be no farther incommoded by any troublesome
topic, and to wander at large amongst all the Mistresses and Misses
of Highbury, and their card-parties. She had not been prepared to
have Jane Fairfax succeed Mr. Elton; but he was actually hurried
off by Miss Bates, she jumped away from him at last abruptly to the
Coles, to usher in a letter from her niece.

“
Oh! yes—Mr. Elton, I
understand—certainly as to dancing—Mrs. Cole was telling me that
dancing at the rooms at Bath was—Mrs. Cole was so kind as to sit
some time with us, talking of Jane; for as soon as she came in, she
began inquiring after her, Jane is so very great a favourite there.
Whenever she is with us, Mrs. Cole does not know how to shew her
kindness enough; and I must say that Jane deserves it as much as
any body can. And so she began inquiring after her directly,
saying, ‘I know you cannot have heard from Jane lately, because it
is not her time for writing;’ and when I immediately said, ‘But
indeed we have, we had a letter this very morning,’ I do not know
that I ever saw any body more surprized. ‘Have you, upon your
honour?’ said she; ‘well, that is quite unexpected. Do let me hear
what she says.’”

Emma’s politeness was at
hand directly, to say, with smiling interest—

“
Have you heard from Miss
Fairfax so lately? I am extremely happy. I hope she is
well?”

“
Thank you. You are so
kind!” replied the happily deceived aunt, while eagerly hunting for
the letter. “Oh! here it is. I was sure it could not be far off;
but I had put my huswife upon it, you see, without being aware, and
so it was quite hid, but I had it in my hand so very lately that I
was almost sure it must be on the table. I was reading it to Mrs.
Cole, and since she went away, I was reading it again to my mother,
for it is such a pleasure to her—a letter from Jane—that she can
never hear it often enough; so I knew it could not be far off, and
here it is, only just under my huswife—and since you are so kind as
to wish to hear what she says; but, first of all, I really must, in
justice to Jane, apologise for her writing so short a letter—only
two pages you see—hardly two—and in general she fills the whole
paper and crosses half. My mother often wonders that I can make it
out so well. She often says, when the letter is first opened,
‘Well, Hetty, now I think you will be put to it to make out all
that checker-work’ —don’t you, ma’am? And then I tell her, I am
sure she would contrive to make it out herself, if she had nobody
to do it for her—every word of it—I am sure she would pore over it
till she had made out every word. And, indeed, though my mother’s
eyes are not so good as they were, she can see amazingly well
still, thank God! with the help of spectacles. It is such a
blessing! My mother’s are really very good indeed. Jane often says,
when she is here, ‘I am sure, grandmama, you must have had very
strong eyes to see as you do—and so much fine work as you have done
too! I only wish my eyes may last me as well.’”

All this spoken extremely fast obliged Miss
Bates to stop for breath; and Emma said something very civil about
the excellence of Miss Fairfax’s handwriting.

“
You are extremely kind,”
replied Miss Bates, highly gratified; “you who are such a judge,
and write so beautifully yourself. I am sure there is nobody’s
praise that could give us so much pleasure as Miss Woodhouse’s. My
mother does not hear; she is a little deaf you know. Ma’am,”
addressing her, “do you hear what Miss Woodhouse is so obliging to
say about Jane’s handwriting?”

And Emma had the advantage of hearing her
own silly compliment repeated twice over before the good old lady
could comprehend it. She was pondering, in the meanwhile, upon the
possibility, without seeming very rude, of making her escape from
Jane Fairfax’s letter, and had almost resolved on hurrying away
directly under some slight excuse, when Miss Bates turned to her
again and seized her attention.

“
My mother’s deafness is
very trifling you see—just nothing at all. By only raising my
voice, and saying any thing two or three times over, she is sure to
hear; but then she is used to my voice. But it is very remarkable
that she should always hear Jane better than she does me. Jane
speaks so distinct! However, she will not find her grandmama at all
deafer than she was two years ago; which is saying a great deal at
my mother’s time of life—and it really is full two years, you know,
since she was here. We never were so long without seeing her
before, and as I was telling Mrs. Cole, we shall hardly know how to
make enough of her now.”

“
Are you expecting Miss
Fairfax here soon?”

“
Oh yes; next
week.”

“
Indeed! that must be a
very great pleasure.”

“
Thank you. You are very
kind. Yes, next week. Every body is so surprized; and every body
says the same obliging things. I am sure she will be as happy to
see her friends at Highbury, as they can be to see her. Yes, Friday
or Saturday; she cannot say which, because Colonel Campbell will be
wanting the carriage himself one of those days. So very good of
them to send her the whole way! But they always do, you know. Oh
yes, Friday or Saturday next. That is what she writes about. That
is the reason of her writing out of rule, as we call it; for, in
the common course, we should not have heard from her before next
Tuesday or Wednesday.”

“
Yes, so I imagined. I was
afraid there could be little chance of my hearing any thing of Miss
Fairfax to-day.”

“
So obliging of you! No, we
should not have heard, if it had not been for this particular
circumstance, of her being to come here so soon. My mother is so
delighted! for she is to be three months with us at least. Three
months, she says so, positively, as I am going to have the pleasure
of reading to you. The case is, you see, that the Campbells are
going to Ireland. Mrs. Dixon has persuaded her father and mother to
come over and see her directly. They had not intended to go over
till the summer, but she is so impatient to see them again—for till
she married, last October, she was never away from them so much as
a week, which must make it very strange to be in different
kingdoms, I was going to say, but however different countries, and
so she wrote a very urgent letter to her mother—or her father, I
declare I do not know which it was, but we shall see presently in
Jane’s letter—wrote in Mr. Dixon’s name as well as her own, to
press their coming over directly, and they would give them the
meeting in Dublin, and take them back to their country seat,
Baly-craig, a beautiful place, I fancy. Jane has heard a great deal
of its beauty; from Mr. Dixon, I mean—I do not know that she ever
heard about it from any body else; but it was very natural, you
know, that he should like to speak of his own place while he was
paying his addresses—and as Jane used to be very often walking out
with them—for Colonel and Mrs. Campbell were very particular about
their daughter’s not walking out often with only Mr. Dixon, for
which I do not at all blame them; of course she heard every thing
he might be telling Miss Campbell about his own home in Ireland;
and I think she wrote us word that he had shewn them some drawings
of the place, views that he had taken himself. He is a most
amiable, charming young man, I believe. Jane was quite longing to
go to Ireland, from his account of things.”