Mr Knightley’s Diary (8 page)

The boys were eager for their riding lesson, and whilst John and I encouraged them, we talked of the Westons' party.

'Isabella and Emma have managed to persuade their father to accept the invitation,' he said.

'Have they indeed? They have done well. He does not like to go out at the best of times, and at Christmas, with his family at Hartfield, and snow threatening out of doors, I thought they would find it impossible.'

'The Westons have consulted his feelings in everything. The hours are early and the guests few. Besides, I said that if he did not care to go, then Isabella and I must go without him, for we could not snub the Westons. He became so agitated at the thought of treating the Westons with less than their due that he was persuaded, particularly once Isabella had pointed out to him that there would be no difficulty in conveying everyone, as we had our own carriage at Hartfield.'

'I mean to go, too.'

The boys had finished their lesson, and we walked down to the stream. It had been so cold overnight that it had frozen over. The boys delighted in skating on it in their shoes, and we have promised them that, if the weather holds, we will skate properly tomorrow.

'Do you not miss all this?' I asked John.

'I do, but I would miss my business more, and it holds me in town. I cannot have both, so I am content with visiting you whenever I can.'

By the time we returned to Hartfield, the boys were exhausted, and they were able to sit and play quietly by the fireside.

'What good children they are,' said Mr Woodhouse contentedly.

'When they have had Uncle Knightley to wear them out!' said Emma. 'It is a good thing he invited them to the Abbey, where they could run about.'

'They are lively children. They need to use up their energy, and where better than at their uncle's house? And what have you been doing?' I asked Emma.

I looked at the drawing by the fire and picked it up. I noticed that it had not been done by Emma, but by her niece.

'This is good. This is very good,' I said teasingly to Emma. 'I think it is your best work'

Emma laughed.

'I cannot aspire to such greatness. That is Bella's picture.'

'Did you do this?' I asked Bella.

She nodded.

'And what is it?' I asked, looking at the squiggle on the paper. 'Is it a castle?'

She shook her head.

'Is it a horse?'

She shook her head again,

'What then?'

'Papa!' she cried.

I looked at it from every direction, and discerned an eye and a mouth.

'A very good likeness. I like it even better than your aunt Emma's portrait of Papa. You have caught his expression beautifully.'

Bella was delighted, and we settled down to a comfortable family evening. Mr Woodhouse seemed to have accepted our dining at the Westons' as a settled thing, and a few more cheerful conversations on the subject reconciled him to going out on a cold, dark evening.

As I walked home, I found I was looking forward to it.

Wednesday 23 December

I had Horrocks find our skates, so that by the time John joined me with the children, I was ready to take them down to the stream.

John and I showed the boys how to fasten the skates, helping them as they needed it, and then we all ventured on to the ice. The weather was perfect for our enterprise. The air was cold, but not biting, and a weak sun shone down on our faces. The exercise was invigorating, so that we all returned to Hartfield with hearty appetites.

After taking tea, Emma proposed charades. Isabella fell in with the suggestion readily enough. Harriet seemed lethargic, but was compliant. The children went up to the attic with Emma and Isabella, and came down with an armful of clothes. There was great hilarity as Bella put on an old dress of Isabella's, which was far too big for her, and walked round in her mother's shoes, which were also far too large. In vain did Emma, Harriet and Isabella try to persuade her to part with her treasures, and tempt her with other, more suitable, clothes!

The children were too young to understand much of it, but they liked dressing up, and the rest of the party enjoyed the game.

The first charade took us some time to guess. It began with Isabella and the children sitting down, throwing something through the air. A great deal of laughter was produced by our false guesses, until John guessed that they were fishing, and we arrived, by circuitous route, at 'river-bank'. A moment's further thought showed us the word was simply 'bank'. Emma then came in dressed as a queen.

Mr Woodhouse could offer no guesses, being more concerned with Emma's beauty, and for myself I had to agree, for I have always found her face and form to be more pleasing than any other I have ever seen.

I could not immediately see the significance, until I thought again of the first syllable, and realized the word was 'bank-note', with Emma being a woman of note.

By the time the game was over, it was obvious why Harriet was so lethargic. She was suffering from a cold. She said that she must return to Mrs Goddard's, and Emma would not hear of it, saying she could not allow her friend to leave the house. But Harriet begged to be allowed to be nursed by Mrs Goddard, so the carriage was sent for, and Harriet was conveyed home.

Mr Woodhouse was anxious all evening, hoping Harriet might not take a turn for the worse, but offering tragic tales of colds that had turned to pneumonia, leading to early graves. Isabella watched her children anxiously, lest one of them should have also taken cold. She and her father argued about the cures recommended by their respective physicians, and Emma sensibly decided to take the children up to the nursery. John and I retreated behind our newspapers, and let Isabella and her father have their argument in peace.

Thursday 24 December

John had an opportunity to warn Emma about Elton's attentions today, though whether she has taken the hint he does not know. He chanced to meet them both this morning, when he was returning from the Abbey with the boys. Emma seemed very solicitous of Elton, John told me, which alarmed me, until I had heard the full tale. She had tried to persuade him that he had a cold, and that he should not go to the Westons this evening as he was not well enough.

'Elton did not know what to say,' said John. 'He had no sign of a cold that I could see, yet he did not want to contradict her.'

'I see her purpose! She wanted him to spend the evening thinking of her little friend, and perhaps calling in at Mrs Goddard's to ask after Miss Smith, instead of dining at Randalls.'

'I thought you said that Elton was in love with Emma, not Harriet?' asked John with a frown.

'Not
in love
. I said his
ambition
tended in that direction. But they are at cross-purposes. Emma's ambitions are in a different quarter. She thinks that he will marry her friend.'

'What! The parlour boarder?'

'Yes.'

'Has Emma taken leave of her senses?' he asked.

'The girl is pretty.'

'And so are a hundred other girls. He has only to go to Brighton, or Bath, to find plenty of
well-born
, pretty young ladies with a handsome dowry, who would not turn down a handsome vicar.'

I brought him back to the point, asking if he had warned Emma, and learning that he had.

'And what did she reply?' I asked.

'That I was mistaken. That she and Mr Elton were friends and nothing more.'

'Foolish girl! Well, she has been warned. If he proposes now, at least it will not take her entirely by surprise.'

'He will not get a chance tonight,' John said. 'I have offered to take him in my carriage. And once at the Westons he will get no time alone with her.'

I was reassured. Even so, I had followed Emma's progress with such interest, for so many years, that I was curious to know what the evening would bring.

When I arrived, the first party from Hartfield was already there. Isabella and Mr Woodhouse were sitting by the fire, waiting for Emma, Elton and John.

Emma's party soon followed, and Emma greeted Mrs Weston fondly. I have always been glad of the affection they share.

Emma took a seat, and Mr Elton sat next to her. He was very solicitous, asking her if she was warm enough, asking if her father were comfortable, and crowning it by calling attention to some of her drawings, which hung in Mrs Weston's drawing-room.

'Remarkable,' he said. 'Such a way with line. Quite exquisite. You are fortunate to have them, Mrs Weston.'

Mrs Weston agreed, but Emma looked uncomfortable. I guessed that Elton's flattery was not to her taste. Either that, or my brother's caution had given her pause, and she was now considering whether he could be right, and whether Mr Elton's object could be herself.

She did not have long to think of it, however, for the subject of Frank Churchill was soon raised.

'We want only two more to be just the right number. I should like to see two more here, your pretty little friend, Harriet, and my son, and then I should say we were quite complete,' said Weston. 'I believe you did not hear me telling the others in the drawing-room that we are expecting Frank?' he went on, growing expansive as he addressed Emma. 'I had a letter from him this morning, and he will be with us within a fortnight.'

'Oh, yes, that would be perfect,' said Emma with genuine enthusiasm.

She, along with the rest of Highbury, has long been wondering about Frank Churchill.

'He has been wanting to come to us, ever since September,' said Weston, 'but he cannot command his own time. He has those to please who must be pleased, and who (between ourselves) are sometimes to be pleased only by a good many sacrifices. But now I have no doubt of seeing him here about the second week in January.'

Emma spoke of his son at length to Weston. She could not say too much to please him.

After dinner the ladies withdrew, and Mr Woodhouse went with them. He has no interest in business or politics, and sees his attendance as a compliment to the ladies.

When they had departed, we talked of the parish and the war, our farming troubles and our hopes for the coming year. Weston was convivial, resisting any effort to break up the gentlemen by passing the port again. He liked nothing better than to have a group of friends round his table.

I saw Elton looking at the clock once or twice, but otherwise he bore his separation from the ladies well. At last, Weston could delay us no longer, and we left our seats.

'I am going to take a walk,' said John, as we left the dining-room. 'I need some fresh air after Weston's good food. Do you care to join me?'

'No, thank you,' I said.

Truth to tell, I wanted to see how Emma got on with Elton.

The other gentlemen demurred, and John set out.

On arriving in the drawing-room, I was not surprised to see Elton making for Emma, and, with scarcely an invitation, he seated himself between her and Mrs Weston. He began to speak of Harriet at once, saying he hoped that Emma would not risk catching a cold from her friend.

Really, he was as bad as her father, with his talk of colds! She quickly gew weary of his attentions, and I became sure of one thing: she was finally convinced that she was his object, and not Harriet. No matter how many times she tried to turn the conversation back to her friend, he would not have it. Everything he said was about her.

'So scrupulous for others,' said Elton to Mrs Weston, 'and yet so careless for herself! She wanted me to nurse my cold by staying at home today, and yet will not promise to avoid the danger of catching an ulcerated sore throat herself! Is this fair, Mrs Weston? Judge between us. Have not I some right to complain? I am sure of your kind support and aid.'

Mrs Weston looked astonished, as well she might. This was going beyond anything I had so far heard, and assumed an intimacy that plainly was not there. I wondered that Emma could endure it, though by her look she could not do so easily. I almost stepped in, but knowing her to be equal to Elton, I left her to fight the battle herself.

She turned on him a quelling look, and I did not know whether to pity them or laugh at them: Emma abusing her powers and creating a muddle where there had been none, and Elton, blinded by ambition, mistaking the matter so badly he was about to make an even bigger muddle than the one already made.

There was no time for any more of Elton's chivalry, however, as John returned from his walk. He came in, rubbing his hands and speaking briskly, breaking like a whirlwind into the room.

'This will prove a spirited beginning of your winter engagements, sir,' he said to Mr Woodhouse heartily. 'It will be something new for your coachman and horses to be making their way through a storm of snow.'

I wished he could have been less dramatic in his entrance. Mr Woodhouse was so distressed he was struck dumb, but a regular hubbub broke out from everyone else.

'Snow? I would not have thought it,' said Emma.

'No, indeed,' said Elton. 'Who could have guessed?'

'How deep is it?' asked Weston.

'Do you think it will lie?' asked Mrs Weston.

'I admired your resolution very much, sir, in venturing out in such weather,' continued John to Mr Woodhouse, 'for of course you saw there would be snow very soon. Everybody must have seen the snow coming on. I admired your spirit; and I dare say we shall get home very well. Another hour or two's snow can hardly make the road impassable; and we are two carriages; if
one
is blown over in the bleak part of the common field, there will be the other at hand. I dare say we shall be all safe at Hartfield before midnight.'

To him, the snow was a matter of novelty and excitement. There are times when he reminds me of his children! To Weston, too, it was a source of satisfaction, or at least the concealment of it was.

'I knew it was snowing all along,' said Weston. 'I saw it as I crossed the hall, but said nothing for fear of breaking up the party. I could see that it was nothing, a mere dusting, and nothing to worry about. There will be no difficulty in anyone getting home. A pity! I wish there would be, then you could all stay the night. We would love to have you, would we not, my dear?' he said to Mrs Weston.