by Jayne Bamber
Here Rebecca gave her a stern look. “There is no need to dissemble with me, Cousin. Whatever your feelings about your sister and father, you cannot convince me they have aught to do with the Eltons – you miss Frank Churchill, and are angry that he has gone away, to be replaced in everyone’s mind but your own with the new Mrs. Elton. Though you may not be fully past your grief, I think you hide behind your duty to mourning, rather than admit the truth of your feelings, because it is against your nature. You are quite like me, all willful independence, and it does not at all suit you to be in love, but I daresay you are.”
Emma screwed up her face. “Well! It is a very hard thing to be forced to put aside one’s independence and give way to such feelings, only to discover at the crucial moment that it was all for naught.”
“Oh, hush. He will be back, I am sure of it. He will return to your side and despise Mrs. Elton with you, and then your happiness will be quite complete. Indeed, were it not for Mrs. Elton, you would have very little to talk about when he does return, for you have conversed at such great length already that I often wondered how you can possibly have so very much to say to one another.”
Emma struggled with herself for the next week, kept only from the brink of madness, she was sure, by Rebecca’s patience with her; everyone else made her cross. She slept poorly, thinking often of her father and Isabella, and when she caught herself not thinking of them, she only felt guilty for letting her thoughts turn to Frank Churchill, or to her displeasure with Mrs. Elton. It was Mr. Knightley who caught the brunt of her foul humor, when he occasioned to ask when Hartfield would be giving a dinner for Mrs. Elton.
Though Mr. Knightley had been in jest – or at least in part – Emma could not be satisfied without doing as much for the Eltons as anybody else in the neighborhood. John did not like it – John did not like anybody, really, and the force of his grief was still so strong – better than it had been the past six months, but certainly far from absent.
He was persuaded by his brother to consent to the party, for it was no secret that they had all gone down to half-mourning, but he would do only a small party. It must be on one of Miss Fairfax’s personal days, so that she and her aunt might be able to attend, for their presence would absorb a greater share of everything about Mrs. Elton that overwhelmed him. The Westons must be invited, to be amiable on his behalf, and of course his brother must come, to entertain him where others could not. Beyond those, no possible guests could be conceived – certainly not the Coles, definitely not the Coles.
A date was fixed upon, the invitations sent and accepted with alacrity, and then the dinner itself was upon them. Emma tried to take heart from her cousin’s reassurances, but despite her best efforts at remaining cheerful, she was hoping every moment of the dinner that the Westons might betray some indication of Frank’s return being imminent, and she only grew more dissatisfied. Mrs. Elton must have begun to perceive Emma’s dislike, and might have even known something of Emma’s dealings in the past with Mr. Elton; she began to retaliate in the most perverse way possible – she took an eager interest in Jane Fairfax.
Seated near John, Emma heard him mention Miss Fairfax’s daily walking routine. “I hope you did not venture far this morning, Miss Fairfax, or I am sure you must have been wet,” said he.
“I only went to the post office,” she replied, “and reached home before the rain was much. It is my daily errand. I always fetch the letters for my aunt. The exercise does me such good.”
John grimaced. “Not a walk in the rain, I should imagine.”
“No, but it did not absolutely rain when I set out.”
“When you have lived to my age, you will begin to think letters are never worth going through the rain for.”
Blushing, Miss Fairfax replied, “I cannot expect that simply growing older should make me indifferent about letters.”
“Indifferent! Oh no – I never conceived you could become indifferent. Letters are no matter of indifference; they are generally a very positive curse,” John said with a smile.
Miss Fairfax laughed diffidently. “You are speaking of letters of business – mine are letters of friendship.”
“I have often thought those the worst of the two,” he replied. “Business may bring money, but friendship hardly ever does.”
“Oh, you are not serious now. I know you too well, Mr. Knightley – you must understand the value of friendship as well as anybody.”
Emma had no chance to interject here, as she might have done, that John likely knew no such thing, and Miss Fairfax was far too generous with her employer, when Mrs. Elton was moved to speak her piece. “The value of friendship, indeed! But Jane, we cannot have you walking in the rain, however much you take pleasure in your letters – certainly correspondence from the Campbells must be one of the few pleasures in a life such as yours. But walking in the rain? This must not be, you sad girl – you must let your friends here take care of you.”
Though Miss Fairfax had borne all of Mrs. Elton’s overtures of friendship with her usual calm reserve, she began to bristle now at such interference, assuring Mrs. Elton patiently that she had not caught any cold; it had barely rained on her at all.
Mrs. Elton was not satisfied. “But I cannot allow you to do such a thing again. There must be some arrangement made. I shall speak to Mr. E. The man who fetches our letters every morning shall fetch yours, too, and bring them to you on days when you are in Highbury with your aunt.”
“You are extremely kind,” Miss Fairfax replied, “but I cannot give up my early walk, neither on my Highbury nor my Hartfield days. I prefer to be out of doors as much as I can, and I must walk somewhere. The post office is as good an object as any.”
Mrs. Elton laughed affectedly. “My dear Jane, say no more about it. The thing is determined, as far as I can presume to determine anything without the concurrence of my lord and master.”
Seeing Miss Fairfax’s mounting distress, John was moved to intervene. “And as your lord and master is not privy to such a conversation, seated so far down the table, I suggest we drop the matter entirely. There are a hundred ways you might make yourself useful in Highbury, Mrs. Elton, without depriving Miss Fairfax of her daily walk. I am sure it does wonders for her health and her fine complexion, and I, for one, should not wish to see her deprived of anything which gives her such satisfaction. I would only extract a promise from her that she will proceed with caution – beyond that, she must make her own decisions.”
The look upon Mrs. Elton’s face nearly moved Emma to applause for John, even if it had been made in defense of Miss Fairfax.
Mrs. Elton was not to be daunted – in giving offense to Emma, and apparently everyone else at Hartfield, she was quite determined to continue making her feelings toward them known. Once they had all adjourned to the parlor, she began on another scheme to make herself useful to Miss Fairfax, while offending the residents of Hartfield. They had broken into smaller groupings, though they were a party of but ten. John was speaking with Mr. Elton, Miss Bates with the Westons, and Emma with Rebecca and Mr. Knightley, when Rebecca, with such a look on her face, gestured for Emma and Mr. Knightley to fall silent; they indulged in listening to what Mrs. Elton was telling Miss Fairfax.
“But it is so unusual, your working at Hartfield but five days out of seven, and going about all the motions of your previous life in Highbury the other two days every week. I am sure I know of no such arrangement for any governess I have ever heard of, in my own wide circle of acquaintance.”
Here Emma quietly rolled her eyes and exchanged a droll look with her companions, who were listening with no little amusement.
“Perhaps it is strange,” Miss Fairfax said softly. “It is not a common arrangement, but it works well enough for all those whom it concerns.”
“Brava,” Rebecca muttered, audible only to Emma and Mr. Knightley.
Mrs. Elton persisted. “When you seek out another position, the unusual nature of your employment here might present difficulti
es. All the finest families will surely expect you to be satisfied with far less personal time.”
“That may be, but I have no plans at present to seek employment elsewhere – the Knightley family is dear to me, and I am very happy with their generosity.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Elton said, and here she dropped her voice; Emma and her companions were obliged to lean in just a little to hear her. “But there is no telling when you might be required to find employment elsewhere, even if it is not of your choosing. It is very likely that John Knightley will marry his cousin Rebecca – surely that must be why she has come into the country – and such women from London often prefer to get rid of any attractive servants in the house, after their marriage. No Jane, you must look to your future. I am sure I can find you a much better position.”
It was too much! Emma struggled to keep her composure, but after exchanging a glance with Rebecca, who had found this observation amusing in the extreme, Emma was obliged to cover her laughter with a great deal of coughing. When at last Miss Fairfax extricated herself, Mrs. Elton moved to speak with her husband, and Emma and her companions could resume their own conversation.
“Well,” Emma cried. “Apparently Mrs. Elton is not content to slight me in favor of my brother’s governess – she now seeks to deprive us of our governess entirely!”
“But it would have happened anyhow,” Rebecca said with a smirk, “when I marry John! Miss Fairfax is so much prettier than I – I should never abide having her in the house!” She gave way to her laughter at length. “Good Heavens, what an idea!”
Mr. Knightley replied with a sardonic look. “I fear you have met your match, as far as matchmakers go.”
“Shall I give her some encouragement, do you think?” Rebecca’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “I shall go and speak with Cousin John, and perhaps rest my hand on his like so,” she demonstrated by caressing Mr. Knightley’s hand. “She will instantly be giving me advice on how to purchase wedding clothes!”
“Lord! How could anyone ever imagine such a thing? John despises other people more than even you, Rebecca,” Emma observed. “If you were to marry, I am sure you should never see anybody!”
“As much as we are all amused, I am sure,” Mr. Knightley replied, “I would beg you not to tease her. Do not give her any reason to continue her ridiculous conjectures, or turn them in any other direction. It will only lead to mischief.”
“Ha! I shall do as I please,” Rebecca chided him. “My ankle is quite healed; I am no longer a prisoner of the sofa, and am at liberty to do just as I like. Perhaps I shall confound Mrs. Elton further, by showing partiality to both of the Knightley brothers – how she will wonder which of them I shall ever choose!”
Emma giggled again, but Mr. Knightley began to look quite put out with their frivolity. “A fine joke, indeed,” said he, before moving away to speak with Mrs. Elton himself.
It was not long before Mrs. Elton gave Emma further offense. She paid a morning call at Hartfield – Rebecca was still offended by her suggestion that she ought to marry John, and retreated to the far corner of the room to monopolize Mr. Knightley, and perhaps create an entirely different sort of suspicion in Mrs. Elton’s mind. Emma was bearing her tedious guest’s company as best she could, when the Westons appeared, bringing good news – Frank, after a fortnight’s absence, had finally written of his return.
“I shall soon have the pleasure of introducing my son to you,” Mr. Weston told Mrs. Elton, who was very willing to suppose this news a particular compliment to herself.
“And I will be happy to make his acquaintance,” said she. “I shall waste no time in calling on him, and we shall both have great pleasure in seeing him at the vicarage.”
“You are very obliging. Frank will be extremely happy, I am sure. He is to be in town next week, if not sooner. We had notice of it in a letter today. I met the letters on my way this morning, and seeing my son’s hand, presumed to open it – though it was not directed to me – it was to Mrs. Weston. She is his primary correspondent, I assure you. I hardly ever get a letter.”
“And you absolutely opened what was directed to her! Oh, Mr. Weston,” Mrs. Elton replied, laughing affectedly, “I must protest against that. Upon my word, if this is what I am to expect, we married women must begin to exert ourselves!”
“We men are sad fellows. You must take care of yourself, Mrs. Elton. But what a fine thing for you Emma, for I am sure you shall have your ball at the Crown after all. It was never to be forgotten, but merely postponed, and now must be acknowledged – we must fix the day.”
With so much happiness to be expected, even Mrs. Elton’s presence began to plague Emma a little less – perhaps a very little less. The return of Frank Churchill, the prospect of passing a very happy evening occupied in dancing with him – it was enough to banish all of Emma’s displeasure with the presumptive Mrs. Elton – she took to the notion of planning the ball with alacrity.
“Oh, yes,” Emma cried. “We must plan the ball at once. But how much preparation is needed? Is a week too little? Is a fortnight too long?”
Mrs. Elton predictably interjected. “One week is far too soon, indeed! The proper preparations require time, Miss Woodhouse. I can think of no greater ill than such a thing being brought about so quickly, with little satisfaction at all. No, the invitations, the decoration, the hiring of musicians, the planning of a menu – all must be done with care. It is fortunate for Highbury that such a thing was never undertaken before my coming amongst you! I find myself quite capable of rising to such a challenge, as we married women must – do you not agree, Mrs. Weston?” Mrs. Weston’s agreement, reluctantly given, was far from necessary – within five minutes, Mrs. Elton was thoroughly convinced the whole scheme had been all of her own design.
Rebecca and Mr. Knightley were moved to cease their whispering across the room and come to Emma’s rescue, after Emma had sent them a great many beseeching looks. “Well, Cousin,” Rebecca said, “how fortunate Mrs. Elton has spared you any consideration for your ball at the Crown – I am sure you should have no time to attend to such matters yourself, for what do you think – Mr. Knightley and I have fixed upon such a scheme as must occupy your time far more agreeably.”
Here Mrs. Elton paused in her self-congratulatory monologue to the Westons, to look upon Rebecca and Mr. Knightley with equal measures curiosity and disdain. “What new scheme is this?”
Here Mr. Knightley presented a book of his, which he had loaned to Rebecca during the week of healing for her ankle, when she could do naught but read on the sofa. Emma recognized it as a volume she herself had once perused when visiting Donwell – it was a book of illustrations, depicting the many beauties of the English countryside, and he opened it to present a page detailing the scenery and spectacle to be had from Box Hill.
“As I was reading,” Rebecca said, “I came over a little note, scrawled in the corner of the page here – it seemed to me to have been written in Emma’s hand, but I could not quite make it out – I consulted with Mr. Knightley, and over the course of our conversation we grew quite resolved that a trip to Box Hill would be just the thing! Certainly Emma must desire it, and whatever Emma desires, you know, must be made reality by those who have the power to do so.” Here she gave a triumphant look to Mrs. Elton.
Emma was quick to express all the delight she felt. “What a fine thing, to help pass the time until Frank Churchill’s return,” she cried.
“Exactly what I knew you would say,” Mr. Knightley replied with a gentle, teasing laugh. “In this plan, we needn’t delay for any great preparations – we might go on any fine day of our choosing, and amuse ourselves with very little inconvenience to anyone else.”
The plan was instantly agreed upon. Emma could only repine that the Eltons must be included – would that Mr. Knightley and Rebecca had delayed announcing their little scheme until Mrs. Elton had returned to the vicarage! And yet, how happy she was to be going at all. With the inclusion of the Eltons, it was agreed between E
mma and Rebecca that Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax must also go, and of course the Westons, if only to prevent Mrs. Elton from forcing her company on anyone who did not desire it.
In the end, Mrs. Elton still managed to spoil the plan for them all. Despite that lady’s determination to take over all the planning of the ball at the Crown, she had still found time to do the same of the Box Hill party. Emma had managed to overcome the degradation of being said to be ‘of Mrs. Elton’s party,’ which could only offend every feeling of hers, despite a great wish to see Box Hill herself, when the laming of Mrs. Elton’s carriage horse threw everything into sad uncertainty. It might be weeks, it might be only a few days, before the horses were usable, but for the time being no preparations were to be ventured on, and it was all melancholy stagnation. Mrs. Elton’s resources were inadequate to such an obstacle, and she called at Hartfield to deliver the disappointment in person.
“Is this not dreadful, Knightley? Such weather for exploring,” she cried. “The disappointment is quite odious. What are we to do? It is nearly the middle of May, the weather is so fine, and all of us really so keen to be out of doors – such a pity to be so forestalled!”
“A great pity indeed,” Emma whispered to Rebecca. “We might have gone on our own, you know, were it not for her being included in the plan in the first place!”
“You had better explore Donwell,” replied Mr. Knightley. “That may be done without horses. Come and eat my strawberries – they are ripening fast.”
If Mr. Knightley did not begin seriously, he was obliged to proceed so, for his proposal was caught with delight. “Oh, I should like it above all things,” Mrs. Elton replied. She promised him again and again to come – much oftener than he could doubt her – and was extremely gratified by such a proof of intimacy, such a distinguishing compliment as she chose to consider it. “You may depend upon me,” she said. “I will certainly come. Name your day, and I will come. You will allow me to bring Jane Fairfax?” This last she queried looking between Mr. Knightley and Emma.
