Emma and the Werewolves (9 page)

Back at Hartfield, the girls carried on with
their musings. “I shall never be invited to Abbey-Mill again,” was
said in rather a sorrowful tone.

“
Nor, if you were, could I
ever bear to part with you, my Harriet. You are a great deal too
necessary at Hartfield to be spared to Abbey-Mill.”

“
And I am sure I should
never want to go there; for I am never happy but at
Hartfield.”

Some time afterwards it
was, “I think Mrs. Goddard would be very much surprized if she knew
what had happened. I am sure Miss Nash would—for Miss Nash thinks
her own sister very well married, and it is only a
linen-draper.”

“
One should be sorry to see
greater pride or refinement in the teacher of a school, Harriet. I
dare say Miss Nash would envy you such an opportunity as this of
being married. Even this conquest would appear valuable in her
eyes. As to any thing superior for you, I suppose she is quite in
the dark. The attentions of a certain person can hardly be among
the tittle-tattle of Highbury yet. Hitherto I fancy you and I are
the only people to whom his looks and manners have explained
themselves.”

Harriet blushed and smiled, and said
something about wondering that people should like her so much. The
idea of Mr. Elton was certainly cheering; but still, after a time,
she was tender-hearted again towards the rejected Mr. Martin.

“
Now he has got my letter,”
said she softly. “I wonder what they are all doing—whether his
sisters know—if he is unhappy, they will be unhappy too. I hope he
will not mind it so very much.”

“
Let us think of those
among our absent friends who are more cheerfully employed,” cried
Emma. “At this moment, perhaps, Mr. Elton is shewing your picture
to his mother and sisters, telling how much more beautiful is the
original, and after being asked for it five or six times, allowing
them to hear your name, your own dear name.”

“
My picture! But he has
left my picture in Bond-street.”

“
Has he so! Then I know
nothing of Mr. Elton. No, my dear little modest Harriet, depend
upon it the picture will not be in Bond-street till just before he
mounts his horse to-morrow. It is his companion all this evening,
his solace, his delight. It opens his designs to his family, it
introduces you among them, it diffuses through the party those
pleasantest feelings of our nature, eager curiosity and warm
prepossession. How cheerful, how animated, how suspicious, how busy
their imaginations all are!”

Harriet smiled again, and her smiles grew
stronger.

* * * *

Chapter VIII

H
arriet slept at Hartfield
that night.
Mr. Martin had stopped by and spoken to Mr. Woodhouse without
without the girls knowing of his presence. He told the old man of
the day’s events and the lack of success he and the others had met
with on their journey into the woods. Mr. Woodhouse had not elected
to share this knowledge with Emma and Harriet but had insisted that
Harriet stay and would have nothing else but yes from her in
regards to his “request.” It was not hard won for Harriet had for
some weeks past had been spending more than half her time there,
and gradually getting to have a bed-room appropriated to herself;
and Emma judged it best in every respect, safest and kindest, to
keep her with them as much as possible just at present. She was
obliged to go the next morning for an hour or two to Mrs. Goddard’s
and Mr. Woodhouse sent one of Hartfields’ guards with her to ensure
her safe passage though the young lady protested against it. It was
then settled that she should return to Hartfield, to make a regular
visit of some days. This was much to Emma’s liking.

While she was gone, Mr. Knightley called
seeming more tired than usual and claiming to have had another late
night with his duties at the vicarage. He sat some time with Mr.
Woodhouse and Emma, till Mr. Woodhouse, who had previously made up
his mind to walk out, was persuaded by his daughter not to defer
it, and was induced by the entreaties of both, though against the
scruples of his own civility, to leave Mr. Knightley for that
purpose. Mr. Knightley, who had nothing of ceremony about him, was
offering by his short, decided answers, an amusing contrast to the
protracted apologies and civil hesitations of the other though his
mind seemed elsewhere.

“
Well, I believe, if you
will excuse me, Mr. Knightley, if you will not consider me as doing
a very rude thing, I shall take Emma’s advice and go out for a
quarter of an hour. As the sun is out, I believe I had better take
my three turns while I can. I treat you without ceremony, Mr.
Knightley. We invalids think we are privileged people.”

“
My dear sir, do not make a
stranger of me.”

“
I leave an excellent
substitute in my daughter. Emma will be happy to entertain you. And
therefore I think I will beg your excuse and take my three turns—my
winter walk.”

“
You cannot do better,
sir.”

“
I would ask for the
pleasure of your company, Mr. Knightley, but I am a very slow
walker, and my pace would be tedious to you; and, besides, you have
another long walk before you, to Donwell Abbey. I promise you I
shall be careful and fine.”

“
Thank you, sir, thank you;
I am going this moment myself; and I think the sooner you go the
better. I will fetch your greatcoat and open the garden door for
you.”

Mr. Woodhouse at last was
off; but Mr. Knightley, instead of being immediately off likewise,
sat down again, seemingly inclined for more chat, his attention
focused more on her than whatever faraway place his mind had been
moments before her father’s departure. He even managed a smile and
began speaking of Harriet, and speaking of her with more voluntary
praise than Emma had ever heard before.

“
I cannot rate her beauty
as you do,” said he; “but she is a pretty little creature, and I am
inclined to think very well of her disposition. Her character
depends upon those she is with; but in good hands she will turn out
a valuable woman.”

“
I am glad you think so;
and the good hands, I hope, may not be wanting.”

“
Come,” said he, “you are
anxious for a compliment, so I will tell you that you have improved
her. You have cured her of her school-girl’s giggle; she really
does you credit.”

“
Thank you. I should be
mortified indeed if I did not believe I had been of some use; but
it is not every body who will bestow praise where they may. You do
not often overpower me with it.”

“
You are expecting her
again, you say, this morning?”

“
Almost every moment. She
has been gone longer already than she intended.”

“
Something has happened to
delay her; some visitors perhaps. I would hate to think of it being
something worse.”

“
Highbury gossips! Tiresome
wretches! Do they never get enough of other people’s business or
the thing in the woods?”

“
Harriet may not consider
every body tiresome that you would and her home is not surrounded
by high walls and armed men such as yours. I daresay she certainly
has more reason to stay abreast of all the happenings of Highbury
both social and mortal.”

Emma knew this was too true for
contradiction, and therefore said nothing. He presently added, with
a smile, “I do not pretend to fix on times or places, but I must
tell you that I have good reason to believe your little friend will
soon hear of something to her advantage.”

“
Indeed! how so? of what
sort?”

“
A very serious sort, I
assure you;” still smiling.

“
Very serious! I can think
of but one thing—Who is in love with her? Who makes you their
confidant?”

Emma was more than half in hopes of Mr.
Elton’s having dropt a hint. Mr. Knightley was a sort of general
friend and adviser, and she knew Mr. Elton looked up to him.

“
I have reason to think,”
he replied, “that Harriet Smith will soon have an offer of
marriage, and from a most unexceptionable quarter: Robert Martin is
the man. Her visit to Abbey-Mill, this summer, seems to have done
his business. He is desperately in love and means to marry
her.”

“
He is very obliging,” said
Emma; “but is he sure that Harriet means to marry him?”

“
Well, well, means to make
her an offer then. Will that do? He came to the Abbey two evenings
ago to talk with me of the troubles he has faced with the death of
his cattle but very quickly Harriet took over our talk and he
wished to consult me about her. He knows I have a thorough regard
for him and all his family, and, I believe, considers me as one of
his best friends. He in the end asked me whether I thought it would
be imprudent in him to settle so early; whether I thought her too
young: in short, whether I approved his choice altogether; having
some apprehension perhaps of her being considered (especially since
your making so much of her) as in a line of society above him. I
was very much pleased with all that he said. I never hear better
sense from any one than Robert Martin. He always speaks to the
purpose; open, straightforward, and very well judging. He told me
every thing; his circumstances and plans, and what they all
proposed doing in the event of his marriage. He is an excellent
young man, both as son and brother. I had no hesitation in advising
him to marry. He proved to me that he could afford it; and that
being the case, I was convinced he could not do better.

“
I praised the fair lady
too, and altogether sent him away very happy. If he had never
esteemed my opinion before, he would have thought highly of me
then; and, I dare say, left the house thinking me the best friend
and counsellor man ever had. This happened the night before last.
Now, as we may fairly suppose, he would not allow much time to pass
before he spoke to the lady, and as he does not appear to have
spoken yesterday. His time was likely all consumed with the hunt
which took place. It is not unlikely that he should be at Mrs.
Goddard’s to-day; and she may be detained by a visitor, without
thinking him at all a tiresome wretch.”

“
Pray, Mr. Knightley,” said
Emma, who had been smiling to herself through a great part of this
speech, “how do you know that Mr. Martin did not speak
yesterday?”

“
Certainly, as I said, I
believe the hunt for the beast took up his day,” replied he,
surprized, “I do not absolutely know it; but it may be inferred.
Also, was not she the whole day with you?”

“
Come,” said she, “I will
tell you something, in return for what you have told me. He did
speak yesterday—that is, he wrote, and was refused.”

This was obliged to be repeated before it
could be believed; and Mr. Knightley actually looked red with
surprize and displeasure, as he stood up, in tall indignation, and
said,

“
Then she is a greater
simpleton than I ever believed her. The man clearly loves her and
was out risking his life to help us all! What is the foolish girl
about?”

“
Oh! to be sure,” cried
Emma, “it is always incomprehensible to a man that a woman should
ever refuse an offer of marriage. A man always imagines a woman to
be ready for any body who asks her.”

“
Nonsense! a man does not
imagine any such thing. But what is the meaning of this? Harriet
Smith refuse Robert Martin? madness, if it is so; but I hope you
are mistaken.”

“
I saw her answer! nothing
could be clearer.”

“
You saw her answer! you
wrote her answer too. Emma, this is your doing. You persuaded her
to refuse him.”

“
And if I did, (which,
however, I am far from allowing) I should not feel that I had done
wrong. Mr. Martin is a very respectable young man, but I cannot
admit him to be Harriet’s equal; and am rather surprized indeed
that he should have ventured to address her. By your account, he
does seem to have had some scruples. It is a pity that they were
ever got over.”

“
Not Harriet’s equal!”
exclaimed Mr. Knightley loudly and warmly; and with calmer
asperity, added, a few moments afterwards, “No, he is not her equal
indeed, for he is as much her superior in sense as in situation.
Emma, your infatuation about that girl blinds you. What are Harriet
Smith’s claims, either of birth, nature or education, to any
connexion higher than Robert Martin? She is the natural daughter of
nobody knows whom, with probably no settled provision at all, and
certainly no respectable relations. She is known only as
parlour-boarder at a common school. She is not a sensible girl, nor
a girl of any information. She has been taught nothing useful, and
is too young and too simple to have acquired any thing herself. At
her age she can have no experience, and with her little wit, is not
very likely ever to have any that can avail her. She is pretty, and
she is good tempered, and that is all. My only scruple in advising
the match was on his account, as being beneath his deserts, and a
bad connexion for him. I felt that, as to fortune, in all
probability he might do much better; and that as to a rational
companion or useful helpmate, he could not do worse. But I could
not reason so to a man in love, and was willing to trust to there
being no harm in her, to her having that sort of disposition,
which, in good hands, like his, might be easily led aright and turn
out very well. The advantage of the match I felt to be all on her
side; and had not the smallest doubt (nor have I now) that there
would be a general cry-out upon her extreme good luck. Even your
satisfaction I made sure of. It crossed my mind immediately that
you would not regret your friend’s leaving Highbury, for the sake
of her being settled so well. I remember saying to myself, ‘Even
Emma, with all her partiality for Harriet, will think this a good
match.’”