Unexpected Friends & Relations

by Jayne Bamber

  ***

  The morning after their Box Hill excursion, Jane Fairfax was expected at Hartfield, but did not appear. It had been her routine to take her breakfast with them, whenever she would return from her two days per week with her aunt and grandmother, and John was distressed by her absence from the breakfast room at Hartfield that morning.

  “It was damned foolishness going out at all in the heat yesterday,” he said. “We ought to have learnt our lesson the day before that, at Donwell, but we would go – now, likely, poor Jane has taken ill from the heat. The unnecessary exhaustion of going up the hill, only to walk about and eat as we might have done here on the lawn at Hartfield, and trek back down! And for what?”

  Emma and Rebecca shared a look between them at John’s ill humor, which seemed to require no actual reply. Rebecca began to fear for her cousin Emma, that she must be obliged to look after the children in Jane’s absence, and quickly found an excuse for them to be away from the house – they would go into the village and inquire after Miss Fairfax directly.

  Rebecca was as happy as Emma to be away from the house as soon as they had finished their repast, and suspected that she could well account for Miss Fairfax’s failure to appear at Hartfield that morning – it was all her own doing! Angry as she had been with Mr. Knightley for his rebuke, her comment to Miss Fairfax, meant only in jest, must have been taken askance – the offense had been hers, and so must the remedy be. She would look in on Miss Fairfax, and she would apologize for her remarks.

  As they walked into the village, Emma admitted that she felt rather the same about her own unkind teasing of Miss Bates. “It was dreadful of Mr. Knightley to scold us, you know, but I suppose he was right. My poor Papa would not wish me to speak to her in such a way – I cannot think what possessed me to do it!”

  “I feel quite the same,” Rebecca replied. “It was such a strange conversation to be having – really, Mr. Parker was being so provoking! I am sure you were only trying to make what was already awkward a little less so. As for myself, I should not have directed my annoyance with Mrs. Elton at Jane Fairfax – but I was in such a strange mood, after Mr. Parker’s odd humor... it seemed more appropriate, at such a moment, than it ever ought to have been. It was badly done indeed!”

  In the village, they saw Sidney Parker leaving Miss Bates’ house, and called out to him.

  “Where is Mr. Churchill gone off to this morning? I have rarely seen you apart,” Emma observed.

  Mr. Parker forced a smile. “Yes, well, I had some errands in the village this morning. I was headed back to Randalls now, and then we were to go to Hartfield to see you both. But here you are!”

  “We are come to see Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax,” Rebecca replied. “Miss Fairfax did not come to us this morning, as we expected her to, and John is concerned.”

  Mr. Parker really looked quite as cross as he had done the past two days. “Well, I have just left them, as you see. Miss Fairfax is not well today, I suppose. I think the heat must have affected her – I had not thought her so delicate, but....”

  “I wonder you should be calling on Miss Bates at all,” Rebecca said. “Surely you could not have known that Jane Fairfax would be there, or that she was ill.”

  “No – no, of course not. As I said, I had some errands in the village, and the good lady saw me from her window – I thought I may as well go in and say goodbye.”

  “Goodbye?” Rebecca thought something was amiss with him, but had not expected him to be leaving. “But you only just returned. More business for Lady Denham?”

  “No. Well – that is – it is not entirely unrelated, I suppose. But I am for Sanditon this afternoon, though I hope to return again for the ball – the much-awaited ball at the Crown. I am sure it is just the thing for us! That will put everything right, will it not?”

  Rebecca wondered what could need putting right, but thought it better not to ask. She may be a little more sympathetic to Mr. Parker than before, but still thought him very odd.

  Emma looked perplexed, even a little panicked. “Is... is Mr. Churchill to go away, too?”

  “Oh no – it is not for him to be driven away at such a time – that is, he has not the reasons I have, to be moved to return to Sanditon. I believe you may depend upon him to remain.”

  Rebecca was beginning to feel so put off by Mr. Parker’s mysteriously agitated demeanor that even visiting Miss Bates began to seem the superior alternative. “Well then, I believe we shall say goodbye for now, with every hope of seeing you back in Highbury for the ball, so that all may be put right. My regards to Lady Denham, I am sure.”

  They parted ways with Mr. Parker, and went to see Miss Bates and her niece. As soon as they entered the house, they could hear the sound of weeping from the room off of the parlor. Only Mrs. Bates was sitting there, as ill and idle as ever. The maid who had let them in, looking frightened and awkward, busied herself with sweeping up some flowers off of the ground – Rebecca wondered if Jane had been picking flowers at Box Hill, for these were quite fresh, and there was no broken vase.

  Miss Bates fluttered into the room, asked them to wait, and then hurried into the next room, which Rebecca presumed must be Jane’s room – this seemed to be the source of the weeping. The door had not completely closed behind her, or rather it seemed so poorly fitted as to be incapable of closing entirely at all. Miss Bates was heard to say, “Well, my dear, I shall say you are laid down upon the bed, and I am sure you are ill enough.”

  There was a little more weeping, and some muffled whispers, and just when Rebecca and Emma had exchanged a look as to suggest they ought not to have come at all, Miss Bates returned to the room, voluble as ever, though seeming uneasy in her manners. “Oh, I am very happy to see you,” she said, though not with any real appearance of finding pleasure in their visit. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting – poor Jane is not feeling well – but that must account for your coming at all, of course. You must be wondering why she did not go to Hartfield today, when she was expected, and I ought to have sent word sooner. I was really just about to send a note – poor Jane is very ill today, too ill indeed to see anyone.”

  “John was very distressed this morning – we all were,” Rebecca said. “I assure you, our inquiry is borne out of friendship, and no other concern. The children shall be looked after; that is not what brings us.”

  “Indeed,” Emma rejoined. “I am sure we would have come anyway, myself in particular.” She gestured to the basket she carried on her arm, of some leftover food from the picnic, and other provisions. “I brought you this, and I wished to say – that is, I hope you know the very high esteem I hold you in, and all your family. I always have, and you have always been so valued by my family – I hope we are always to be friends. I am very sorry to hear about Miss Fairfax’s illness – truly sorry. She is a dear girl, who deserves every happiness....”

  Emma paused, as if overcome by great sentiment of her own, and Miss Bates patted Emma’s hand as she accepted the basket. “You are a good girl, Miss Woodhouse, always so very kind. I am sure your dear old Papa must be so very proud of you, always taking care of others, always doing what is right.”

  “I hope I do,” Emma said with feeling. “I hope I do what is right, and when I do not, I hope I might be forgiven.”

  Miss Bates gave her a fond smile. “Of course, my dear girl. And Lady Rebecca, you are so very kind, too.”

  Rebecca was obliged to check herself, having been on the precipice of a rather overpowering degree of sentimentality. “I thank you, ma’am,” said she. “I hope I am. I wished to convey my best wishes to Miss Fairfax in person, and I am very sorry indeed if she is too ill to speak with us. I had hoped to find her near recovery, for her own sake. I fear it was so very hot yesterday, I believe it quite fatigued us all, but must have affected her all the more from being so fatigued already the day before. Do tell her that I said so, that everyone at Hartfield understands, and that I would wish her to know how much I hope for her to find real
respite. I was rather out of sorts myself yesterday – I believe we all were – perhaps it is best we forget ever going to Box Hill at all.”

  “That is just what Mrs. Elton said at dinner last night.”

  “You dined at the parsonage last night?”

  “Oh yes, we have dined there every evening that Jane has been with us here, since Mrs. Elton came amongst us. She invited the family from Randalls, but Mr. and Mrs. Weston were far too tired, only Mr. Churchill and Mr. Parker came along. I should have seen how ill Jane was starting to seem – I am certain that is exactly when she began to seem so over-tired....”

  “Well, let her have all the rest she needs, poor girl,” Rebecca replied “I will speak to John about it, and we shall make other arrangements for the children this week. Do let Miss Fairfax know that our solicitude is all for her sake – that we wish her a speedy recovery, but that she is not to return to us until she is fully recovered, and has taken a few days of leisure here with you besides.”

  “I am sure it will do her so much good,” Emma said. “You must be the greatest comfort to her, and surely we would not have her feel any pressure to return to us before she is ready. We shall call again in a few days, and if you should require anything Hartfield might provide, I hope you will not hesitate to send word. We are at your service, dear Miss Bates.”

  The good lady seemed almost returned to her usual cheer, thanked them repeatedly for their kindness, but still seemed rather relieved to find them ready to be going away.

  On their way back to Hartfield, Rebecca asked Emma, “Do you not find it odd that Mr. Parker should be going away so soon? He arrived but two days ago!”

  “What, can you be disappointed? I had thought you despised him, but you certainly seemed to talk to him a great deal at Box Hill, and at Donwell!”

  “Oho! I see what you mean to suggest. It is only a curious thing – and he dined with the Eltons last evening? I think it very peculiar, that is all.”

  “And now that Mr. Parker is going back to Sanditon, I am sure it will not be long before poor Frank is likewise summoned back by his dreadful aunt, just as with his last visit! And it is terribly rude, you know, that Mrs. Elton did not invite us – I should never have accepted, but she ought to have at least asked us.”

  “I am sure she would not give us the satisfaction of declining her.”

  “Just what I thought – insufferable woman! Truly, the good opinion of anyone who can hold her in such high esteem really begins to mean very little to me!”

  “Are you angry that Mr. Churchill dined there?”

  “No – well perhaps a little. I certainly shall not ask him about it.”

  “I am sure he must have only attended because he expected to see you there – he is too amiable to imagine Mrs. Elton would exclude you. It is strange, though, that Mr. Parker did not mention it to us.”

  “Mr. Parker again! Really, Rebecca, for all your dislike of him, you really do mention him very often.”

  Rebecca recoiled from her cousin, who was acting rather cross. “Well, who put a bee in your bonnet?”

  Emma halted her steps, and took a deep breath. “I apologize, Cousin. I am only worried that Frank must be going away again soon, and that Miss Fairfax may not be wishing to return to Hartfield at all. No doubt Mrs. Elton excluded us from her dinner because she means to fill Miss Fairfax’s head with notions of leaving, and then we shall be without a governess again! Without a governess, and without Frank Churchill, and soon even you must wish to be going away.”

  “Oh – oh dear. Do not trouble yourself, Cousin. I shall not leave a moment before you desire it, and I am sure Mr. Churchill will not go away either – or if he does, he will hurry back, as he did once already. As to Miss Fairfax, perhaps we can put out some discreet inquiries, just in case she does leave us.”

  “Yes, perhaps we should. At any rate, I shall leave you to discuss it with John. I am really out of sorts this morning, and I think I need some time alone when we return.”

  They had made it back to Hartfield, and Emma and Rebecca fell silent as they walked across the lawn, where John and Mr. Knightley were playing with the children. Mr. Knightley made no acknowledgement of Rebecca, and she wished to avoid him, but was obliged to move that way in order to reach the house. Emma seemed eager to be indoors, but she was accosted by little Izzy, and Rebecca could see it straining Emma’s patience.

  John approached to inquire after Miss Fairfax, and Mr. Knightley followed, more out of a sense of propriety, Rebecca thought, than any real wish to speak with her; he stood silently, his hands behind his back, as John addressed them. “How does Miss Fairfax? Was Miss Bates well?”

  “Miss Bates is well. She was kind as ever, and pleased to see us, though worried about Jane,” Rebecca replied, hoping Mr. Knightley might get some sense of the contrition she and Emma had gone to the village to express. “She was happy to receive the basket of food from the picnic we brought her. Unfortunately, we were unable to see Miss Fairfax, as she was too ill to leave her room.”

  “What is being done? What are her symptoms? Has she seen Perry?”

  “I do not know, John – that is, I did not think to ask.”

  “I ought to have gone myself!”

  “Well! Perhaps you should. But surely Mrs. Elton will be doing her part, for I understand Jane took sick at the vicarage, where they dined last evening.”

  John grimaced. “I ought to have known that wretched woman had something to do with this! She is trying to convince Jane to leave us, you know.”

  “That may be, but do not vex yourself,” Rebecca assured him. “Miss Fairfax simply needs rest, and I am sure she shall have it. I told Miss Bates that Miss Fairfax will not be wanted at Hartfield until she is fully recovered and has had a few days of leisure besides. They see how good we are to her.”

  “Well, that was very kind of you,” John admitted. “Still, I think I had better go look in on them tomorrow. I should have known – she really seemed very out of sorts yesterday.”

  “I rather think we all were,” Rebecca replied, giving Mr. Knightley a quick look.

  “Some of us more than others,” Emma replied, still looking very discomposed. “By the by, Mr. Parker is to go away again.”

  “I wonder he bothered coming back at all,” John said. “He is an odd fellow.”

  “I think Rebecca will rather miss him,” Emma quipped, “though she will not own to it. I believe her estimation of him was beginning to grow. And yet, he must leave us once more. At least he has promised to return for the ball, where everything might be put right, whatever that means.”

  “I am sure I do not know,” Rebecca scoffed. She could feel Mr. Knightley’s gaze upon her, but as soon as she looked over at him his eyes turned back to his brother.

  “Well,” said Mr. Knightley, “I must be off.”

  “Does Mr. Parker journey to London again? You might travel with him, George,” John said wryly.

  “What – are you for London?” Rebecca stared at Mr. Knightley, willing him to look at her, and finally he did.

  “I am. I have some business to look into on John’s behalf. He might have gone himself, but he is quite without a governess now.” Rebecca flinched; his tone seemed to suggest he considered her to be responsible for this. “I do hope you shall miss me as much as you shall Mr. Parker.” He gave a curt nod, and before she could make any reply, he strode away.

  Emma grimaced. “Oh, why must everyone be so very tiresome?”

  26

  Kent, May

  After several days of naught but lamentations at Rosings, Mary was at her wits’ end, and though she was much dismayed to find that her patience had run out, she was emotionally exhausted; she had to get away from Rosings, if only for a little while. She went to the dower house, hoping that Harriet’s perpetual optimism would raise her own spirits. Harriet had been gentle and steady as ever since Georgiana and Lydia had suffered their heartbreak, and Mary hoped that a dose of Harriet’s goodness would refresh he
r own.

  Mr. Rushworth was calling at the dower house himself, hoping for another daily reading of The Romance of the Forest. “Oh yes,” Mary said, “I should like a happy ending very much, just now.”

  “So should we all, I am sure,” Mr. Rushworth said, his delight apparent at his plan being so readily accepted. Lady Catherine’s permission was easily obtained – she and Sir Gerald were much occupied with the wedding preparations, as there was but a fortnight left before Cynthia Sutton was to wed Henry Audley.

  Harriet expressed a wish to be out of doors; the three companions took their book out to the garden behind the dower house. The sun was shining, the flowers were in full bloom, and they sat themselves down in an obliging little gazebo – Mary felt she could almost forget the sorrows she had set out to escape. Mr. Rushworth took a seat rather near Harriet, opened the book to the page where they had last left off, and had only just begun reading when they were approached by Mr. Tilney, who seemed strangely agitated.

  “Oh dear,” Mary said. “We ought to have thought of you – ought to have asked you – of course you must be wishing to read with us.” Flustered, she folded her hands in her lap and looked down, really sorry for his exclusion, for he had often been joining them for their reading circle.

  Mr. Tilney smiled kindly at her. “I thank you for that, Miss Bennet, but I shall forgive you for not thinking of me – a parson must forgive, you know, and I have had such a morning as even Mrs. Radcliffe could not do justice, I am sure.”

  Harriet giggled at him. “Good Heavens, Mr. Tilney! Whatever is the matter?”

  Mr. Tilney hesitated – he was clearly distressed, and for a moment he glanced nervously between Harriet and Mary, stammering unintelligibly before he finally fixed his gaze on Mary. “Miss Bennet, I wonder if I might trouble you – might ask for your company for a little while? I should hate to interrupt your happy reading party, but I am afraid it cannot be helped.”