Chapter 47
Harriet, poor Harriet!” thought Emma, with the tormenting ideas she could not get rid of. Frank Churchill had behaved very ill towards Emma, but poor Harriet! To be a second time the dupe of Emma’s misconceptions and flattery. Mr. Knightley had spoken prophetically when he once said, “Emma, you have been no friend to Harriet Smith.”
Emma knew she had been responsible for having encouraged Harriet’s feelings towards Frank Churchill. Common sense would have directed her to tell Harriet not to think of him. She was extremely angry with herself. Thank goodness she was angry with Frank Churchill too, or it would all have been too dreadful.
As for Jane Fairfax, Emma need no longer be unhappy about Jane. Her days of insignificance were over. She would soon be well and happy and prosperous and, unbeknownst to her, have red eyes to match Mrs. Elton’s and no need to sleep or eat ever again.
Emma now imagined why Jane had slighted her. No doubt it had been from jealousy. In Jane’s eyes, Emma had been a rival.
But poor Harriet! Emma was sadly fearful that this second disappointment would be more severe than the first. She must communicate the painful news, however, and as soon as possible. Emma had promised Mr. Weston to keep it secret. But Harriet must be told—it was Emma’s superior duty.
Emma’s heartbeat quickened on hearing Harriet’s footsteps at the front door.
“Well, Miss Woodhouse!” cried Harriet, coming eagerly into the hall. “Is this not the oddest news that ever was?”
“What news do you mean?” replied Emma, unable to guess whether Harriet could indeed have received any hint.
“About Jane Fairfax. Did you ever hear anything so strange? Oh! You need not be afraid of telling me, for Mr. Weston has told me himself. I met him just now. He told me it was to be a great secret and I should not mention it to anybody but you, but he said you already knew it.”
Harriet’s behaviour was so extremely odd that Emma did not know how to understand it. She seemed to show no concern or disappointment in the discovery of Frank’s engagement. Emma looked at her, quite unable to speak.
“Had you any idea,” cried Harriet, “of his being in love with Miss Fairfax?”
“Can you seriously ask me, Harriet, whether I imagined him attached to another woman at the very time that I was encouraging your feelings towards him?”
“Me!” cried Harriet, blushing and astonished. “I never cared about Mr. Frank Churchill!”
“I am delighted to hear you say that,” replied Emma. “But then, who did you give me to understand that you cared about, if it wasn’t Frank Churchill?”
Emma could not speak another word. Her voice was lost and she sat down in great terror, waiting till Harriet should answer.
Harriet, who was standing at some distance, with her face turned from Emma, said, “I should not have thought it possible that you could have misunderstood me! But considering how infinitely superior he is to everybody else, I trust I have better taste than to think of Mr. Frank Churchill! If you had not told me that more wonderful things could happen, that there had been matches of greater disparity—those were your very words—I should not have dared to give way to my feelings for—Mr. Knightley!”
“My dear Harriet!” exclaimed Emma. “I perfectly remember what I said! I told you that I did not wonder at your affection, considering the service he had rendered you.”
“Oh dear,” cried Harriet, “you thought I was referring to Mr. Churchill saving me from the vampires! It was not the vampires—it was not Mr. Frank Churchill that I meant. No! I was thinking of something much more precious—of Mr. Knightley asking me to dance at the ball, which made me feel how superior he was to every other man upon the earth.”
“Good God!” cried Emma. “This has been a most unfortunate mistake!”
She paused, and then asked tentatively, “Has Mr. Knightley returned your affection?”
“Yes,” replied Harriet modestly but not fearfully, “I must say that he has.”
Emma’s eyes were instantly withdrawn, and she sat silently meditating for a few minutes, making herself acquainted with her own heart.
She admitted—she acknowledged—the whole truth. It darted through Emma with the speed of an arrow—Mr. Knightley must marry no one but herself!
Harriet had been conscious of a difference in Mr. Knightley’s behaviour ever since those two decisive dances. Emma knew that he had found her much superior to his expectation. Harriet had noticed his talking to her much more than he used to and his having a different manner towards her—a manner of kindness and sweetness, gazing with his black eyes at her plumpness.
Lately, Harriet had been more aware of it. When they all had walked together, he had so often come and walked by her and talked so very delightfully! He seemed to want to be acquainted with her. Emma knew it was very much the case. She had often observed the change.
Harriet repeated to Emma how Mr. Knightley had praised Miss Smith for being without affectation, for having simple, honest, generous feelings, and for her spectacular valour in the midst of recent vampire attacks. Emma knew that he saw such recommendations in Harriet; he had mentioned them to her more than once.
Emma herself had twice witnessed Mr. Knightley’s attentions towards her young friend. First, when he walked with Harriet apart from the others on the outing at Donwell Abbey, and he had talked to her in a more particular way than he had ever done before.
The second instance was the morning Emma returned from visiting Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax. Mr. Knightley sat talking with Harriet nearly half an hour before Emma had returned to Hartfield.
Harriet now appealed to her dear Miss Woodhouse for reassurance concerning Mr. Knightley.
“I could never have hoped for it if you had not encouraged me. Now I feel that I may deserve him and that if he does choose me, it will be so very wonderful!”
The many bitter feelings felt by Emma made it necessary for her to reply, “Harriet, I shall only venture to declare that Mr. Knightley is the last man in the world who would intentionally give any woman the idea of his feeling for her more than he really does.”
Harriet seemed ready to worship her friend for such an encouraging reply, but the sound of Mr. Woodhouse’s footsteps coming through the hall caused Harriet great agitation.
She could not compose herself, and so she slipped through another door and was gone from the house.
The moment Harriet was gone, Emma’s feelings burst out spontaneously. “Oh God! I wish I had never seen her!”
The rest of the day and the following night, Emma was bewildered by the confusion of all her thoughts. How to understand it all!
To thoroughly understand her own heart was the first effort. How long had Mr. Knightley been so dear to her? When had he replaced Frank Churchill in her affection? She then realised that she had always considered Mr. Knightley superior to every other man in her circle.
How arrogant she was to arrange everybody’s romances. She was proven to have been completely mistaken with everyone, and she had brought evil on Harriet, on herself, and, she feared, on Mr. Knightley. He would never have known Harriet at all but for Emma.
Oh! If she had only not prevented Harriet from marrying Mr. Robert Martin, who would have made her happy and respectable in the sort of life to which she truly belonged—all would have been safe and none of these dreadful events would have happened!
Chapter 48
Emma had never known how much of her happiness depended on Mr. Knightley, now that she was threatened with losing him. For a very long time she had felt that, since Mr. Knightley was not married, Emma was first in his eyes.
She knew she had not deserved it—she had often been negligent, slighting his advice, wilfully opposing him, and quarrelling with him because he would not agree with her.
But still, he had loved her and watched over her from a little girl, with an endeavo
ur to improve her and an anxiety for her doing right, which no other person had shared. In spite of all her faults, she knew she was dear to him—might she not say, very dear?
And in the heat of battle against the wild vampires—was she not constantly by his side as his partner, to impale the creatures’ torsos as Mr. Knightley beheaded them?
Emma had a slight hope that perhaps Harriet was mistaken about Mr. Knightley’s affection. For her own sake, Emma must wish that Mr. Knightley remain single all his life. If he never married at all, Emma believed she could be perfectly satisfied. Let him continue to be the same Mr. Knightley who visited Hartfield regularly.
Emma needed some time away from Harriet. She wrote to her friend and kindly asked that she be absent from Hartfield for a few days to avoid discussing one particular subject. Harriet agreed and left Emma in peace.
Mrs. Weston paid a call to Emma at Hartfield to relate that she had just visited with Jane Fairfax. Due to Jane’s recent illness, Mrs. Weston suggested a carriage ride to give her some air. Jane apologised for her ungracious behaviour during her illness.
Jane was very much relieved to be able to talk about her engagement and the misery she suffered while keeping it secret for so many months. She told Mrs. Weston she had not had the blessing of a single peaceful hour during that time.
“Poor girl!” said Emma. “She thinks herself wrong, then, for having consented to a secret engagement?”
“No one could blame her more than she is disposed to blame herself,” said Mrs. Weston.
“Poor girl!” said Emma again. “She loves Frank Churchill excessively, then, I suppose.”
“Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him.”
“I am afraid,” returned Emma, sighing, “that I often contributed to making her unhappy.”
“On your side, my love,” said Mrs. Weston, “it was very innocently done. Jane spoke of you, Emma, and of the great kindness you had shown her during her illness and, with a blush, asked me to thank you.”
“Oh! Mrs. Weston, you are very kind to bring me these kind words. I trust she will be very happy.”
“Are you well, my Emma?” was Mrs. Weston’s parting question.
“Oh! Perfectly. I am always well, you know.”
Mrs. Weston’s visit furnished Emma with more reflection on her past injustice towards Jane Fairfax. She bitterly regretted not having sought a closer acquaintance with her, and she blushed for the envious feelings which had certainly been the cause. Had she followed Mr. Knightley’s wishes in paying attention to Miss Fairfax, tried to know her better, she would have been spared the pain which pressed on her now.
The evening of this day was very long and melancholy at Hartfield. A cold stormy rain set in, and nothing of July appeared. Emma would like nothing better than a visit from Mr. Knightley to cheer her, but those sorts of visits might shortly be over.
Emma pondered how lonely Hartfield could soon become. Mrs. Weston would soon give birth to a child, keeping her and Mr. Weston away. Frank Churchill and Jane Fairfax would be married and most likely settle at Enscombe.
Add to these losses the absence of Mr. Knightley, and what would remain of cheerful society within her reach? Mr. Knightley to be no longer coming there for his evening comfort! How was it to be endured?
And if he were to be absent because of his marriage to Harriet, Emma’s wretchedness would be all the greater, knowing that she had caused it all.
The only consolation that Emma could draw from all this was to resolve that she would conduct herself better, become more rational and more acquainted with herself. And she sincerely hoped that Mr. Knightley and Harriet Smith would both survive the impending final vampire battle to enjoy their happiness together.
Chapter 49
The weather cleared in the afternoon and glimpses of sun would soon appear—it was summer again. Emma resolved to be out of doors as soon as possible. She longed for the serenity of nature, so she walked through the gardens, freshening her spirits and relieving her thoughts a little.
Suddenly she saw someone in the distance—Mr. Knightley passing through the garden door, coming towards her. He had just returned from London. She quickly collected her thoughts.
Emma exchanged quiet and constrained greetings with Mr. Knightley. She thought he neither looked nor spoke cheerfully. He was perhaps preoccupied with the looming encounter with the vampires. They walked together; he was silent. She thought he was often looking at her.
Then Emma thought that perhaps he wanted to speak to her of his attachment to Harriet. She could not bear this silence; with him it was most unnatural.
She decided to speak and, trying to smile, began, “Now that you have returned, I have some news that will rather surprise you.”
“If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have already heard. From Mr. Weston.”
“You probably have been less surprised than any of us, for you had your suspicions. I have not forgotten that you once tried to give me caution. I wish I had attended to it.”
For a moment or two, nothing was said, then Mr. Knightley suddenly took her arm with his cold hand and pressed it against his heart. Emma was so surprised that she did not notice the lack of a heartbeat.
In a tone of great sensitivity, he said, “Time, my dearest Emma, will heal your wound.”
And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, “Frank Churchill will soon be gone. I am sorry for Miss Fairfax. She deserves a better fate.”
Emma quite understood him and, with a flutter of pleasure, excited by such tender consideration, replied, “You are very kind, but you are mistaken, and I must set you right. I never have been at all in love with Mr. Churchill. I was tempted by his attentions and allowed myself to appear pleased. He never wished to attach me. It was merely a trick to conceal his real attachment to Miss Fairfax.”
Mr. Knightley, quite relieved, said, “I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill. With such a woman as Miss Fairfax, he has a chance to turn out well. I shall certainly wish him well.” He will have sustenance at last, he thought.
“I have no doubt of their being happy together,” said Emma. “I believe them to be very sincerely in love.”
“He is a most fortunate man!” returned Mr. Knightley, with enthusiasm. “So early in life—to be twenty-three forever—and to have drawn such a prize! Frank Churchill is, indeed, favoured by fortune. Everything turns out for his good. His eyes will grow red with pride!”
“You speak as if you envied him.”
“And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he is the object of my envy.”
Emma could say no more. They seemed to be within half a sentence of mentioning Harriet, and her immediate feeling was to avert the subject, if possible.
But Mr. Knightley startled her by saying, “You do not ask me why I am envious, Emma. I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may regret it.”
“Oh! Then, don’t speak it, don’t speak it,” she eagerly cried. “Take a little time—consider—do not commit yourself.”
“Thank you,” said he, with deep mortification. Not another syllable followed.
Emma could not bear to give him pain. She was convinced he wished to confide in her about Harriet.
A moment later, Emma changed her mind. He was her friend and she must help him.
“Mr. Knightley, if you wish to ask my opinion of anything—as a friend—I shall hear whatever you like. I shall tell you exactly what I think.”
“As a friend!” repeated Mr. Knightley. “Emma, that is a word which—oh, why should I hesitate? I have gone too far already to turn back. Emma, tell me, have I no chance of ever becoming more than a friend?”
He stopped, and the expression of his onyx eyes overpowered her.
“My dearest Emma,” said he, “for dearest you will always be, whatever the event of this hour’s conversat
ion, my dearest, most beloved Emma, tell me at once. Say no if that is your answer to my profession of love for you.”
She was unable to utter a single word in her disbelief of what she was hearing.
“You are silent,” he cried with great pain, “absolutely silent! At present I ask no more.”
Emma was almost ready to sink under the nervousness of this moment, not wanting to be awakened from the happiest dream of her life.
“I cannot make speeches, Emma,” he soon resumed in a tone of such sincere tenderness as was tolerably convincing. “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am. You hear nothing but the truth from me. I have blamed you and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it. Bear with the truths I would tell you now, dearest Emma, as well as you have borne with them. God knows, I have been a very indifferent lover. But you understand me. You understand my feelings of love towards you and will return them if you can. At present, I ask only to hear your voice say that you feel the same towards me.”
While he spoke, Emma’s mind was most busy and had been able to comprehend the exact truth of the whole—to see that Harriet’s hopes had been entirely a mistake; that Harriet was nothing; that Emma was everything; and to rejoice that she had not revealed Harriet’s secret to him.
She spoke then.
What did she say?
Just what she ought, of course. A lady always does. She said enough to show that he need not despair and to invite him to say more.
Within half an hour, Mr. Knightley had passed from a thoroughly distressed state of mind to perfect happiness. This same half hour had given to Emma the precious certainty of being beloved, clearing from both of them all jealousy and distrust.
It was his jealousy of Frank Churchill that had taken him to London. But this very morning, when he learned of the engagement, he felt so much love for Emma that he rushed back to Hartfield.
Mr. Knightley had ridden home through the rain to see how this sweetest and best of all creatures, faultless in spite of all her faults, felt about Frank Churchill’s engagement. Then, to learn that she had never loved him at all, Mr. Knightley realised that she was his own Emma, by hand and word.
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