Emma and the Werewolves (49 page)

She wished she might be able to keep him
from an absolute declaration. That would be so very painful a
conclusion of their present acquaintance! and yet, she could not
help rather anticipating something decisive. She felt as if the
spring would not pass without bringing a crisis, an event, a
something to alter her present composed and tranquil state.

It was not very long, though rather longer
than Mr. Weston had foreseen, before she had the power of forming
some opinion of Frank Churchill’s feelings. The Enscombe family
were not in town quite so soon as had been imagined, but he was at
Highbury very soon afterwards. He rode down for a couple of hours;
he could not yet do more; but as he came from Randalls immediately
to Hartfield, she could then exercise all her quick observation,
and speedily determine how he was influenced, and how she must act.
They met with the utmost friendliness. There could be no doubt of
his great pleasure in seeing her. But she had an almost instant
doubt of his caring for her as he had done, of his feeling the same
tenderness in the same degree. She watched him well. It was a clear
thing he was less in love than he had been. Absence, with the
conviction probably of her indifference, had produced this very
natural and very desirable effect.

He was in high spirits; as
ready to talk and laugh as ever, and seemed delighted to speak of
his former visit, and recur to old stories: and he was not without
agitation. It was not in his calmness that she read his comparative
difference. He was not calm; his spirits were evidently fluttered;
there was restlessness about him. Lively as he was, it seemed a
liveliness that did not satisfy himself; but what decided her
belief on the subject, was his staying only a quarter of an hour,
and hurrying away to make other calls in Highbury. “He had seen a
group of old acquaintance in the street as he passed—he had not
stopped, he would not stop for more than a word—but he had the
vanity to think they would be disappointed if he did not call, and
much as he wished to stay longer at Hartfield, he must hurry off.”
She had no doubt as to his being less in love—but neither his
agitated spirits, nor his hurrying away, seemed like a perfect
cure; and she was rather inclined to think it implied a dread of
her returning power, and a discreet resolution of not trusting
himself with her long.

This was the only visit
from Frank Churchill in the course of ten days. He was often
hoping, intending to come—but was always prevented. His aunt could
not bear to have him leave her. Such was his own account at
Randall’s. If he were quite sincere, if he really tried to come, it
was to be inferred that Mrs. Churchill’s removal to London had been
of no service to the wilful or nervous part of her disorder. That
she was really ill was very certain; he had declared himself
convinced of it, at Randalls. Though much might be fancy, he could
not doubt, when he looked back, that she was in a weaker state of
health than she had been half a year ago. He did not believe it to
proceed from any thing that care and medicine might not remove, or
at least that she might not have many years of existence before
her; but he could not be prevailed on, by all his father’s doubts,
to say that her complaints were merely imaginary, or that she was
as strong as ever.

It soon appeared that London was not the
place for her. She could not endure its noise. Her nerves were
under continual irritation and suffering; and by the ten days’ end,
her nephew’s letter to Randalls communicated a change of plan. They
were going to remove immediately to Richmond. Mrs. Churchill had
been recommended to the medical skill of an eminent person there,
and had otherwise a fancy for the place. A ready-furnished house in
a favourite spot was engaged, and much benefit expected from the
change.

Emma heard that Frank wrote
in the highest spirits of this arrangement, and seemed most fully
to appreciate the blessing of having two months before him of such
near neighbourhood to many dear friends—for the house was taken for
May and June. She was told that now he wrote with the greatest
confidence of being often with them, almost as often as he could
even wish.

Emma saw how Mr. Weston
understood these joyous prospects. He was considering her as the
source of all the happiness they offered. She hoped it was not so.
Two months must bring it to the proof.

Mr. Weston’s own happiness
was indisputable. He was quite delighted. It was the very
circumstance he could have wished for. Now, it would be really
having Frank in their neighbourhood. What were nine miles to a
young man? An hour’s ride. He would be always coming over. The
difference in that respect of Richmond and London was enough to
make the whole difference of seeing him always and seeing him
never. Sixteen miles—nay, eighteen—it must be full eighteen to
Manchester-street—was a serious obstacle. Were he ever able to get
away, the day would be spent in coming and returning. There was no
comfort in having him in London; he might as well be at Enscombe;
but Richmond was the very distance for easy intercourse. Better
than nearer!

One good thing was immediately brought to a
certainty by this removal, the ball at the Crown. It had not been
forgotten before, but it had been soon acknowledged vain to attempt
to fix a day. Now, however, it was absolutely to be; every
preparation was resumed, and very soon after the Churchills had
removed to Richmond, a few lines from Frank, to say that his aunt
felt already much better for the change, and that he had no doubt
of being able to join them for twenty-four hours at any given time,
induced them to name as early a day as possible.

Mr. Weston’s ball was to be a real thing. A
very few to-morrows stood between the young people of Highbury and
happiness.

Mr. Woodhouse was resigned. The time of year
lightened the evil to him. May was better for every thing than
February. Mrs. Bates was engaged to spend the evening at Hartfield,
James had due notice, and he sanguinely hoped that neither dear
little Henry nor dear little John would have any thing the matter
with them, while dear Emma were gone.

* * * *

Chapter II

N
o
misfortune occurred, again
to prevent the
ball. The day approached, the day arrived; and after a morning of
some anxious watching, Frank Churchill, in all the certainty of his
own self, reached Randalls before dinner, and every thing was
safe.

No second meeting had there yet been between
him and Emma. The room at the Crown was to witness it; but it would
be better than a common meeting in a crowd. Mr. Weston had been so
very earnest in his entreaties for her arriving there as soon as
possible after themselves, for the purpose of taking her opinion as
to the propriety and comfort of the rooms before any other persons
came, that she could not refuse him, and must therefore spend some
quiet interval in the young man’s company. She was to convey
Harriet, and they drove to the Crown in good time, the Randalls
party just sufficiently before them.

Frank Churchill seemed to have been on the
watch; and though he did not say much, his eyes declared that he
meant to have a delightful evening. They all walked about together,
to see that every thing was as it should be; and within a few
minutes were joined by the contents of another carriage, which Emma
could not hear the sound of at first, without great surprize. “So
unreasonably early!” she was going to exclaim; but she presently
found that it was a family of old friends, who were coming, like
herself, by particular desire, to help Mr. Weston’s judgment; and
they were so very closely followed by another carriage of cousins,
who had been entreated to come early with the same distinguishing
earnestness, on the same errand, that it seemed as if half the
company might soon be collected together for the purpose of
preparatory inspection.

Emma perceived that her taste was not the
only taste on which Mr. Weston depended, and felt, that to be the
favourite and intimate of a man who had so many intimates and
confidantes, was not the very first distinction in the scale of
vanity. She liked his open manners, but a little less of
open-heartedness would have made him a higher character. General
benevolence, but not general friendship, made a man what he ought
to be. She could fancy such a man. The whole party walked about,
and looked, and praised again; and then, having nothing else to do,
formed a sort of half-circle round the fire, to observe in their
various modes, till other subjects were started, that, though May,
a fire in the evening was still very pleasant.

Emma found that it was not Mr. Weston’s
fault that the number of privy councillors was not yet larger. They
had stopped at Mrs. Bates’s door to offer the use of their
carriage, but the aunt and niece were to be brought by the
Eltons.

Frank was standing by her,
but not steadily; there was a restlessness, which shewed a mind not
at ease. He was looking about, he was going to the door, he was
watching for the sound of other carriages, —impatient to begin, or
afraid of being always near her.

Mrs. Elton was spoken of.
“I think she must be here soon,” said he. “I have a great curiosity
to see Mrs. Elton, I have heard so much of her. It cannot be long,
I think, before she comes.”

A carriage was heard. He was on the move
immediately; but coming back, said,

“
I am forgetting that I am
not acquainted with her. I have never seen either Mr. or Mrs.
Elton. I have no business to put myself forward.”

Mr. and Mrs. Elton appeared; and all the
smiles and the proprieties passed.

“
But Miss Bates and Miss
Fairfax!” said Mr. Weston, looking about. “We thought you were to
bring them.”

The mistake had been slight. The carriage
was sent for them now. Emma longed to know what Frank’s first
opinion of Mrs. Elton might be; how he was affected by the studied
elegance of her dress, and her smiles of graciousness. He was
immediately qualifying himself to form an opinion, by giving her
very proper attention, after the introduction had passed.

In a few minutes the
carriage returned. Somebody talked of rain. “I will see that there
are umbrellas, sir,” said Frank to his father: “Miss Bates must not
be forgotten,” and away he went. Mr. Weston was following; but Mrs.
Elton detained him, to gratify him by her opinion of his son; and
so briskly did she begin, that the young man himself, though by no
means moving slowly, could hardly be out of hearing.

“
A very fine young man
indeed, Mr. Weston. You know I candidly told you I should form my
own opinion; and I am happy to say that I am extremely pleased with
him. You may believe me. I never compliment. I think him a very
handsome young man, and his manners are precisely what I like and
approve—so truly the gentleman, without the least conceit or
puppyism. You must know I have a vast dislike to puppies—quite a
horror of them. They were never tolerated at Maple Grove. Neither
Mr. Suckling nor me had ever any patience with them; and we used
sometimes to say very cutting things! Selina, who is mild almost to
a fault, bore with them much better.”

While she talked of his son, Mr. Weston’s
attention was chained; but when she got to Maple Grove, he could
recollect that there were ladies just arriving to be attended to,
and with happy smiles must hurry away.

Mrs. Elton turned to Mrs. Weston. “I have no
doubt of its being our carriage with Miss Bates and Jane. Our
coachman and horses are so extremely expeditious! I believe we
drive faster than any body. What a pleasure it is to send one’s
carriage for a friend! I understand you were so kind as to offer,
but another time it will be quite unnecessary. You may be very sure
I shall always take care of them.”

Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax, escorted by the
two gentlemen, walked into the room; and Mrs. Elton seemed to think
it as much her duty as Mrs. Weston’s to receive them. Her gestures
and movements might be understood by any one who looked on like
Emma; but her words, every body’s words, were soon lost under the
incessant flow of Miss Bates, who came in talking, and had not
finished her speech under many minutes after her being admitted
into the circle at the fire. As the door opened she was heard,

“
So very obliging of you!
No rain at all. Nothing to signify. I do not care for myself. Quite
thick shoes. And Jane declares—Well! (as soon as she was within the
door) Well! This is brilliant indeed! This is admirable!
Excellently contrived, upon my word. Nothing wanting. Could not
have imagined it. So well lighted up! Jane, Jane, look! did you
ever see any thing? Oh! Mr. Weston, you must really have had
Aladdin’s lamp. Good Mrs. Stokes would not know her own room again.
I saw her as I came in; she was standing in the entrance. ‘Oh! Mrs.
Stokes,’ said I, but I had not time for more.” She was now met by
Mrs. Weston. “Very well, I thank you, ma’am. I hope you are quite
well. Very happy to hear it. So afraid you might have a headach!
seeing you pass by so often, and knowing how much trouble you must
have. Delighted to hear it indeed. Ah! dear Mrs. Elton, so obliged
to you for the carriage! excellent time. Jane and I quite ready.
Did not keep the horses a moment. Most comfortable carriage. Oh!
and I am sure our thanks are due to you, Mrs. Weston, on that
score. Mrs. Elton had most kindly sent Jane a note, or we should
have been.But two such offers in one day! Never were such
neighbours. I said to my mother, ‘Upon my word, ma’am—.’ Thank you,
my mother is remarkably well. Gone to Mr. Woodhouse’s. I made her
take her shawl—for the evenings are not warm—her large new
shawl—Mrs. Dixon’s wedding-present. So kind of her to think of my
mother! Bought at Weymouth, you know—Mr. Dixon’s choice. There were
three others, Jane says, which they hesitated about some time.
Colonel Campbell rather preferred an olive. My dear Jane, are you
sure you did not wet your feet? It was but a drop or two, but I am
so afraid: but Mr. Frank Churchill was so extremely—and there was a
mat to step upon—I shall never forget his extreme politeness. Oh!
Mr. Frank Churchill, I must tell you my mother’s spectacles have
never been in fault since; the rivet never came out again. My
mother often talks of your good-nature. Does not she, Jane? Do not
we often talk of Mr. Frank Churchill? Ah! here’s Miss Woodhouse.
Dear Miss Woodhouse, how do you do? Very well I thank you, quite
well. This is meeting quite in fairy-land! Such a transformation!
Must not compliment, I know (eyeing Emma most complacently)—that
would be rude—but upon my word, Miss Woodhouse, you do look—how do
you like Jane’s hair? You are a judge. She did it all herself.
Quite wonderful how she does her hair! No hairdresser from London I
think could. Ah! Dr. Hughes I declare—and Mrs. Hughes. Must go and
speak to Dr. and Mrs. Hughes for a moment. How do you do? How do
you do? Very well, I thank you. This is delightful, is not it?
Where’s dear Mr. Richard? Oh! there he is. Don’t disturb him. Much
better employed talking to the young ladies. How do you do, Mr.
Richard? I saw you the other day as you rode through the town—Mrs.
Otway, I protest! and good Mr. Otway, and Miss Otway and Miss
Caroline. Such a host of friends! and Mr. George and Mr. Arthur!
How do you do? How do you all do? Quite well, I am much obliged to
you. Never better. Don’t I hear another carriage? Who can this be?
very likely the worthy Coles. Upon my word, this is charming to be
standing about among such friends! And such a noble fire! I am
quite roasted. No coffee, I thank you, for me—never take coffee. A
little tea if you please, sir, by and bye,—no hurry—Oh! here it
comes. Every thing so good!”