“I do not see much sign of it. She is playing Mr. Dixon’s favourite music.”
Just then, Miss Bates, passing near the window, spied Mr. Knightley on horseback just outside.
“It is Mr. Knightley, I declare! I must speak to him if possible, just to thank him for last night. I daresay he will come in when he knows who is here.”
She opened the window and called Mr. Knightley’s name.
“How d’ye do, Mr. Knightley? So obliged to you for the carriage last night and for your gallantry. Such a lovely dinner and such an awful business at the end. Pray come in, do come in. You will find some friends here.”
Mr. Knightley replied, “How is your niece, Miss Bates? How is Miss Fairfax? I hope she caught no cold last night after her fainting spell.”
As Miss Bates answered, Mrs. Weston gave Emma a look of particular meaning. But Emma still shook her head in steady doubt.
“Do come in, Mr. Knightley. Who do you think is here? Miss Woodhouse and Miss Smith, so kind to call, to hear the new pianoforte. Do put up your horse and come in.”
“Well,” said he, deliberating, “for five minutes, perhaps.”
“And Mrs. Weston and Mr. Frank Churchill are here, too! Quite delightful, so many friends!”
Abruptly, Mr. Knightley changed his mind. “No, not now, I thank you. I could not stay two minutes. I must get on.”
“Oh! Do come in. They will be so very happy to see you.”
“No, no, your room is full enough. I shall call another day and hear the pianoforte.”
“Well, I am so sorry! But do travel with the utmost care. I see you carry your trusty sabre with you. Well done, Mr. Knightley! And a very good morning to you!”
Emma found it really time to leave. The visit had already lasted too long and, upon examining watches, so much of the morning was found to be gone that Mrs. Weston and Frank Churchill took their leave also. They could allow themselves to walk with Emma and Harriet only to the Hartfield gates before they set off for Randalls.
Chapter 29
It may be possible to do without blood for a time—young vampires have been known to pass many months without it. But once there is a taste for it, it is difficult not to desire more. The same applies to dancing and attending balls.
Frank Churchill had danced once in Highbury and longed to dance again. Since he never breathed, he was never out of breath, and since he never slept, he could go on and on till the wee hours.
During an evening with the Westons, Frank and Emma began scheming about a ball. It was Frank’s idea, and Emma was certainly desirous of showing people again how delightfully Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse danced—an activity at which she excelled when compared to Jane Fairfax.
Emma assisted Frank in measuring the rooms at Randalls in the hope of discovering which room was the largest. He proposed that the same people in attendance at the Coles’ party should be invited and the same musician engaged.
“You and Miss Smith and Miss Fairfax will be three, and the two Miss Coxes five, and there will be the two Gilberts, young Cox, my father, and myself, besides Mr. Knightley. Yes, that will be quite enough for pleasure. There will be plenty of room.”
“But will there be enough? I really do not think there will.”
They thought to include a second young Cox and one family of cousins of Mr. Weston’s and another of very old acquaintance who could not be left out. It became a certainty that the five couples would soon become at least ten.
“I believe we have room here for ten couples,” said Frank.
Emma demurred. “It would be a crowd—a sad crowd—and what could be worse than dancing without space to turn in?”
“Very true,” he gravely replied. “It is very bad.”
But still he went on measuring, and still he ended with, “I think there will be very tolerable room for ten couples.”
“No, no,” said she, “you are quite unreasonable. It would be dreadful to be standing so close! Nothing can be further from pleasure than to be dancing in a crowd in a little room, pressed up against cold-skinned gentlemen!”
Emma perceived that Frank was a little self-willed. Had she ever intended to marry him, it might have been worthwhile to pause and consider this and try to understand the character of his temper.
***
The next day Frank Churchill visited Hartfield, and he entered the room with an agreeable smile.
“Well, Miss Woodhouse,” he almost immediately began, “I trust your inclination for dancing has not been quite frightened away by the terrors of my father’s little rooms. I bring a new proposal on the subject—this little ball will be held, not at Randalls but at the Crown Inn.”
“The Crown!”
“Yes—you were perfectly right! Ten couples in the Westons’ room would have been insufferable! Dreadful! Is it not a good proposal? I hope you consent.”
“I think it most admirable. Papa, do you not think it an excellent improvement?”
She was obliged to repeat and explain it to Mr. Woodhouse before it was fully comprehended.
“No,” said he, “a very bad plan indeed—much worse than the other. A room at an inn is always damp and dangerous, never properly aired or fit to be inhabited. You would all catch worse colds at the Crown than anywhere.”
“I was going to observe, sir,” said Frank Churchill, “that although I personally prefer damp and dreary, from the very circumstance of the Crown being larger, sir, we shall have no occasion to open the windows at all. And it is that dreadful habit of opening the windows, letting in cold air upon heated bodies which, as you well know, sir, does the mischief.”
“There, Papa! Now you must be satisfied.” He reluctantly nodded his consent.
“My father and Mrs. Weston are at the Crown at this moment,” said Frank Churchill, “examining the capabilities of the Inn. I left them there and flashed here to Hartfield, Miss Woodhouse, impatient for your opinion and hoping you might be persuaded to join them and give your advice. They can do nothing satisfactorily without you.”
Emma was most happy to be called to such a meeting. The two young people set off together without delay for the Crown.
***
There were Mr. and Mrs. Weston, delighted to see Emma and receive her approval, very busy and very happy in their different ways—Mrs. Weston, in some little distress; and Mr. Weston, finding everything perfect.
“Emma,” said Mrs. Weston, “this wallpaper is worse than I expected. Look! In places you can see it is dreadfully dirty.”
“My dear, you are too particular,” said her husband. “What does all that signify? You will see nothing of it by candlelight.”
The ladies exchanged looks which meant “Men never know when things are dirty or not,” and the gentlemen thought to themselves, “Women will have their little nonsense and needless cares.”
One problem arose, however, regarding a supper room. The small adjoining card room was too small for any comfortable supper. Another room of much better size was at the other end of a long awkward hallway. This made a difficulty.
Mrs. Weston proposed having merely sandwiches set out in the little room; but that was discarded as a wretched suggestion. A private dance, without sitting down to supper, was an infamous fraud upon the rights of men and women.
Mr. Weston and Frank Churchill suggested no supper at all, since they would not themselves eat.
“I wish,” said Mrs. Weston, “we could know which arrangement our guests would like best.”
“Yes, very true,” cried Frank, “very true. You want your neighbours’ opinions. Shall I call upon the Coles? They are not far off. Or Miss Bates? She is still nearer.”
“Well—if you please,” said Mrs. Weston, rather hesitating, “if you think she will be of any use.”
“You will get nothing useful from Miss Bates,” said Emma. “She
will be all delight and gratitude, but she will tell you nothing. She will not even listen to your questions.”
“But she is so amusing!” replied Frank Churchill. “I am very fond of hearing Miss Bates talk. And I need not bring the whole family, you know.”
Here Mr. Weston joined them. “Aye, Frank. Go and fetch Miss Bates. She will enjoy the plan, I am sure. But fetch them both. Invite them both.”
“Both sir! Can the old lady—”
“The old lady? No! The young lady, to be sure. I shall think you a great blockhead, Frank, if you bring the aunt without Miss Jane Fairfax.”
And he disappeared like a vampire bat out of hell.
But before he returned, Mrs. Weston had examined the hallway again and found the evils of it much less than she had supposed before—and here ended the difficulties of the decision. The supper would be held in the larger room.
All the rest of the minor arrangements of tables and chairs, lights and music, tea and supper, were mere trifles to be settled at any time. Everybody invited was certain to come.
Frank had already written to his aunt at Enscombe to propose his staying a few days beyond his fortnight. And a delightful dance it was to be.
Most cordially, when Miss Bates arrived, she agreed with everything. Her approval, warm and incessant, was pleasing.
The group did not break up without Emma’s being asked for the two first dances by the hero of the evening, Mr. Frank Churchill, nor without Emma overhearing Mr. Weston whisper to his wife, “He has asked her to dance, my dear. That’s right. I knew he would!”
Chapter 30
Only one thing was needed to make the prospect of the ball completely satisfactory to Emma—that the Churchills allow their nephew to remain a few days beyond his appointed stay.
To Emma’s great surprise, Enscombe was gracious. Frank’s wish of staying longer evidently did not please, but it was not opposed. All was safe and prosperous.
And now Emma, being certain of her ball, began to adopt as her next worry Mr. Knightley’s annoying indifference about it. Perhaps because he did not dance himself or because the plan had been formed without his being consulted or because he feared another vampire attack, he seemed resolved that it should not interest him.
Emma had a sense that, of the three possibilities, Mr. Knightley’s indifference towards the ball was guided by his lack of dancing ability. She was pleased that he had no interest in dancing with Jane Fairfax. Emma was therefore more and more convinced that Mrs. Weston was quite mistaken in her surmise about Mr. Knightley and Miss Fairfax.
“If the Westons think it worthwhile to go to all this trouble for a few hours of noisy entertainment,” said he, “I have nothing to say against it. Oh yes, I must be there! I could not refuse, and I shall have no trouble staying awake. But I would rather be at home, I confess. Take pleasure in seeing dancing? Not I, indeed. I never look at it. By the by, will Miss Harriet Smith be in attendance at the ball?”
“Most assuredly. She is my dear friend. We are inseparable.”
“A pity.”
“Upon my word, Mr. Knightley! As of late, I had thought you held Miss Smith in high regard.”
“Indeed I do, Emma. However, I have begun to notice that wherever she appears—whether it be Hartfield, the Coles’, or walking about Highbury—a band of malicious vampires appears soon thereafter. I have a suspicion that the wild creatures have settled on Harriet’s scent and are brazenly following it in hopes that she will lead them to sustenance.”
“My dear Mr. Knightley! Surely you cannot presume to think such ill thoughts about our dear, plump, little Harriet! Indeed, if you recall, Harriet was ill on Christmas Eve when they attacked us at the Westons’ dinner.”
“Then perhaps her scent rubbed off on you, dear Emma. It is not what I wish to think; however, the coincidences are too frequent to suppose otherwise. Therefore, I must forewarn the gentlemen of Highbury who will be in attendance at the ball to arrive fully armed.”
“This is a ball, not a pitched battle, sir!”
“Emma, dear, would you rather risk a massacre?”
“Certainly not, Mr. Knightley,” she demurred. “I suppose your point is well taken.”
But alas! Two days of joyful anticipation were immediately followed by the overthrow of everything. A letter arrived from Frank’s uncle, Mr. Churchill, to urge his nephew’s instant return.
Mrs. Churchill was unwell—far too unwell to do without Frank. Her husband said that she had been in a very suffering state when writing to her nephew two days before, though from her constant habit of never thinking of herself, she had not mentioned it. But now she was too ill to trifle and must beg Frank to set off for Enscombe without delay.
The substance of this letter was forwarded instantly to Emma in a note from Mrs. Weston. As to his going, it was inevitable. He must be gone within a few hours.
This wretched note was the finale of Emma’s breakfast. After she read it, there was nothing to do but lament. The loss of the ball, the loss of Frank Churchill, and all that the young man might be feeling! It was too wretched! Such a delightful evening as it would have been! Everybody so happy! And she and her partner the happiest!
***
When Frank Churchill arrived at Hartfield to bid farewell, his dejection was most evident. He sat lost in thought for the first few minutes; and when rousing himself, it was only to say, “Of all horrid things, leaving is the worst.”
“But you will come again,” said Emma. “This will not be your only visit to Highbury.”
“Ah!”—shaking his head—“The uncertainty of when I may be able to return! It will be the object of all my thoughts and cares!” Other than, perhaps, the thought of sinking his fangs into a certain lady’s fair neck.
“Our poor ball must be quite given up.”
“If I can come again, we are still to have our ball. My father depends on it.”
Then he continued, “Such a visit it has been! Every day more precious and more delightful than the day before!”
“I shall venture to ask whether you did not come a little doubtfully at first. Did Highbury not rather surpass your expectations? I am sure we did. I am sure you did not much expect to like us so much.”
He laughed rather consciously; and though denying the sentiment, Emma was convinced that it had been so.
“And you must be off this very morning?”
“Yes, I must be off immediately.”
“Not five minutes to spare even for your friends Miss Fairfax and Miss Bates? How unlucky!”
“Oh, I have already visited them. I went in for three minutes and was detained by Miss Bates being absent. She was out, and I felt I must wait till she came in. It was better to pay my visit—”
He hesitated, got up, and walked to a window.
“In short,” said he, “perhaps, Miss Woodhouse, I think you can hardly be without suspicion—”
He looked at her with his large black eyes, as if able to read her thoughts. She hardly knew what to say. It seemed like the beginning of something absolutely serious, which she did not wish. Forcing herself to speak, therefore, in the hope of avoiding it, she calmly said, “You are quite in the right. It was most natural to pay your visit—”
He was silent. Emma believed he was looking at her—probably reflecting on what she had said. She heard him sigh. It was natural for Frank to sigh if he thought Emma was not encouraging him.
A few awkward moments passed. He sat down again, and in a more determined manner said, “It was something wonderful to feel that all the rest of my time might be given to Hartfield. My regard for Hartfield is most warm—”
He stopped again, arose, and seemed quite embarrassed. He was clearly more in love with Emma than she had supposed; and who can say how it might have ended if Mr. Weston had not appeared just then? Mr. Woodhouse soon followed.
Mr.
Weston said, “It is time to go.”
And the young man, though he sighed, agreed to leave.
“I shall hear about you all,” said he. “Mrs. Weston will correspond with me. She will tell me everything. In her letters I shall be at dear Highbury again.”
A very friendly shake of the hand sent a lovely chill through Emma’s warm body. A very earnest goodbye closed the speech, and the door had soon shut out Frank Churchill.
It was a sad change. They had been meeting almost every day since his arrival. Certainly his being at Randalls had given great spirit to the past two weeks—the expectation of seeing him every morning, the assurance of his attentions, his liveliness, his manners, and his enchanting scent! It had been a very happy fortnight.
Furthermore, he had almost told her that he loved her. Emma could not doubt his having a decidedly warm admiration, a conscious preference for her; and this made her think that she must be a little in love with him, in spite of every previous determination against it.
I certainly must be in love, thought she. I would be the oddest creature in the world if I were not. I shall have many fellow mourners for the ball, though Mr. Knightley will be happy.
Mr. Knightley, however, showed no triumphant happiness. He could not say that he was sorry—his very cheerful look would have contradicted him if he had. But he said, and very steadily, that he was sorry for the disappointment of the others, and with considerable kindness added, “You, Emma, who have so few opportunities of dancing, you are really out of luck.”
It was some days before she saw Jane Fairfax, but when they did meet, her mood was unpleasant. She had been unwell, suffering from headaches, which made her aunt declare that, had the ball taken place, she did not think Jane could have attended.
Chapter 31
After Frank Churchill left, Emma was quite certain she was in love. She was very often thinking of him and quite impatient for a letter that she might know how he was, how were his spirits, had he eaten anything lately, how was his aunt, and what was the chance of his coming to Randalls again this spring.
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