by Jane Austen
“So you ended with Captain Hunter, Mary, did you?” said her father. “And whom did you begin with?”
“Captain Hunter,” was repeated in a very humble tone.
“Hum! That is being constant, however. But who else did you dance with?”
“Mr. Norton and Mr. Styles.”
“And who are they?”
“Mr. Norton is a cousin of Captain Hunter’s.”
“And who is Mr. Styles?”
“One of his particular friends.”
“All in the same regiment,” added Mrs. Edwards. “Mary was surrounded by red-coats all the evening. I should have been better pleased to see her dancing with some of our old neighbours, I confess.”
“Yes, yes; we must not neglect our old neighbours. But if these soldiers are quicker than other people in a ball-room, what are young ladies to do?”
“I think there is no occasion for their engaging themselves so many dances beforehand, Mr. Edwards.”
“No, perhaps not; but I remember, my dear, when you and I did the same.”
Mrs. Edwards said no more, and Mary breathed again. A good deal of good-humoured pleasantry followed; and Emma went to bed in charming spirits, her head full of Osbornes, Blakes, and Howards.
CHAPTER 2
The next morning brought a great many visitors. It was the way of the place always to call on Mrs. Edwards the morning after a ball, and this neighbourly inclination was increased in the present instance by a general spirit of curiosity on Emma’s account, as everybody wanted to look again at the girl who had been admired the night before by Lord Osborne. Many were the eyes, and various the degrees of approbation with which she was examined. Some saw no fault, and some no beauty. With some her brown skin was the annihilation of every grace, and others could never be persuaded that she was half so handsome as Elizabeth Watson had been ten years ago. The morning passed quickly away in discussing the merits of the ball with all this succession of company; and Emma was at once astonished by finding it two o’clock, and considering that she had heard nothing of her father’s chair. After this discovery, she had walked twice to the window to examine the street, and was on the point of asking leave to ring the bell and make inquiries, when the light sound of a carriage driving up to the door set her heart at ease. She stepped again to the window, but instead of the convenient though very un-smart family equipage, perceived a neat curricle. Mr. Musgrave was shortly afterwards announced, and Mrs. Edwards put on her very stiffest look at the sound. Not at all dismayed, however, by her chilling air, he paid his compliments to each of the ladies with no unbecoming ease, and continuing to address Emma, presented her a note, which “he had the honour of bringing from her sister, but to which he must observe a verbal postscript from himself would be requisite.”
The note, which Emma was beginning to read rather before Mrs. Edwards had entreated her to use no ceremony, contained a few lines from Elizabeth importing that their father, in consequence of being unusually well, had taken the sudden resolution of attending the visitation that day, and that as his road lay quite wide from D., it was impossible for her to come home till the following morning, unless the Edwardses would send her, which was hardly to be expected, or she could meet with any chance conveyance, or did not mind walking so far. She had scarcely run her eye through the whole, before she found herself obliged to listen to Tom Musgrave’s farther account.
“I received that note from the fair hands of Miss Watson only ten minutes ago,” said he; “I met her in the village of Stanton, whither my good stars prompted me to turn my horses’ heads. She was at that moment in quest of a person to employ on the errand, and I was fortunate enough to convince her that she could not find a more willing or speedy messenger than myself. Remember, I say nothing of my disinterestedness. My reward is to be the indulgence of conveying you to Stanton in my curricle. Though they are not written down, I bring your sister’s orders for the same.”
Emma felt distressed; she did not like the proposal — she did not wish to be on terms of intimacy with the proposer; and yet, fearful of encroaching on the Edwardses, as well as wishing to go home herself, she was at a loss how entirely to decline what he offered. Mrs. Edwards continued silent, either not understanding the case, or waiting to see how the young lady’s inclination lay. Emma thanked him, but professed herself very unwilling to give him so much trouble. “The trouble was of course honour, pleasure, delight, — what had he or his horses to do?” Still she hesitated,—”She believed she must beg leave to decline his assistance; she was rather afraid of the sort of carriage. The distance was not beyond a walk.” Mrs. Edwards was silent no longer. She inquired into the particulars, and then said, “We shall be extremely happy, Miss Emma, if you can give us the pleasure of your company till tomorrow; but if you cannot conveniently do so, our carriage is quite at your service, and Mary will be pleased with the opportunity of seeing your sister.”
This was precisely what Emma had longed for, and she accepted the offer most thankfully, acknowledging that as Elizabeth was entirely alone, it was her wish to return home to dinner. The plan was warmly opposed by their visitor, —
“I cannot suffer it, indeed. I must not be deprived of the happiness of escorting you. I assure you there is not a possibility of fear with my horses. You might guide them yourself. Your sisters all know how quiet they are; they have none of them the smallest scruple in trusting themselves with me, even on a race-course. Believe me,” added he, lowering his voice, “you are quite safe, — the danger is only mine.”
Emma was not more disposed to oblige him for all this.
“And as to Mrs. Edwards’ carriage being used the day after a ball, it is a thing quite out of rule, I assure you — never heard of before. The old coachman will look as black as his horses — won’t he Miss Edwards?”
No notice was taken. The ladies were silently firm, and the gentleman found himself obliged to submit.
“What a famous ball we had last night!” he cried, after a short pause. “How long did you keep it up after the Osbornes and I went away?”
“We had two dances more.”
“It is making it too much of a fatigue, I think, to stay so late. I suppose your set was not a very full one.”
“Yes; quite as full as ever, except the Osbornes. There seemed no vacancy anywhere; and everybody danced with uncommon spirit to the very last.”
Emma said this, though against her conscience.
“Indeed! perhaps I might have looked in upon you again, if I had been aware of as much, for I am rather fond of dancing than not. Miss Osborne is a charming girl, is not she?”
“I do not think her handsome,” replied Emma, to whom all this was chiefly addressed.
“Perhaps she is not critically handsome, but her manners are delightful. And Fanny Carr is a most interesting little creature. You can imagine nothing more naive or piquante; and what do you think of Lord Osborne, Miss Watson?”
“He would be handsome even though he were not a lord, and perhaps, better bred; more desirous of pleasing and showing himself pleased in a right place.”
“Upon my word, you are severe upon my friend! I assure you Lord Osborne is a very good fellow.”
“I do not dispute his virtues, but I do not like his careless air.”
“If it were not a breach of confidence,” replied Tom, with an important look, “perhaps I might be able to win a more favourable opinion of poor Osborne.”
Emma gave him no encouragement, and he was obliged to keep his friend’s secret. He was also obliged to put an end to his visit, for Mrs. Edwards having ordered her carriage, there was no time to be lost on Emma’s side in preparing for it. Miss Edwards accompanied her home; but as it was dinner-hour at Stanton, stayed with them only a few minutes.
“Now, my dear Emma,” said Miss Watson, as soon as they were alone, “you must talk to me all the rest of the day without stopping, or I shall not be satisfied; but, first of all, Nanny shall bring in the dinner. Poor thing! You will not
dine as you did yesterday, for we have nothing but some fried beef. How nice Mary Edwards looks in her new pelisse! And now tell me how you like them all, and what I am to say to Sam. I have begun my letter, Jack Stokes is to call for it tomorrow, for his uncle is going within a mile of Guildford the next day.”
Nanny brought in the dinner.
“We will wait upon ourselves,” continued Elizabeth, “and then we shall lose no time. And so, you would not come home with Tom Musgrave?”
“No, you had said so much against him that I could not wish either for the obligation or the intimacy which the use of his carriage must have created. I should not even have liked the appearance of it.”
“You did very right; though I wonder at your forbearance, and I do not think I could have done it myself. He seemed so eager to fetch you that I could not say no, though it rather went against me to be throwing you together, so well as I knew his tricks; but I did long to see you, and it was a clever way of getting you home. Besides, it won’t do to be too nice. Nobody could have thought of the Edwardses’ letting you have their coach, after the horses being out so late. But what am I to say to Sam?”
“If you are guided by me, you will not encourage him to think of Miss Edwards. The father is decidedly against him, the mother shows him no favour, and I doubt his having any interest with Mary. She danced twice with Captain Hunter, and I think shows him in general as much encouragement as is consistent with her disposition and the circumstances she is placed in. She once mentioned Sam, and certainly with a little confusion; but that was perhaps merely owing to the consciousness of his liking her, which may very probably have come to her knowledge.”
“Oh, dear! yes. She has heard enough of that from us all. Poor Sam! he is out of luck as well as other people. For the life of me, Emma, I cannot help feeling for those that are crossed in love. Well, now begin, and give me an account of everything as it happened.”
Emma obeyed her, and Elizabeth listened with very little interruption till she heard of Mr. Howard as a partner.
“Dance with Mr. Howard! Good heavens! you don’t say so! Why, he is quite one of the great and grand ones. Did you not find him very high?”
“His manners are of a kind to give me much more ease and confidence than Tom Musgrave’s.”
“Well, go on. I should have been frightened out of my wits to have had anything to do with the Osbornes’ set.”
Emma concluded her narration.
“And so you really did not dance with Tom Musgrave at all; but you must have liked him, — you must have been struck with him altogether.”
“I do not like him, Elizabeth. I allow his person and air to be good, and that his manners to a certain point — his address rather — is pleasing, but I see nothing else to admire in him. On the contrary, he seems very vain, very conceited, absurdly anxious for distinction, and absolutely contemptible in some of the measures he takes for becoming so. There is a ridiculousness about him that entertains me, but his company gives me no other agreeable emotion.”
“My dearest Emma! You are like nobody else in the world. It is well Margaret is not by. You do not offend me, though I hardly know how to believe you; but Margaret would never forgive such words.”
“I wish Margaret could have heard him profess his ignorance of her being out of the country; he declared it seemed only two days since he had seen her.”
“Aye, that is just like him; and yet this is the man she will fancy so desperately in love with her. He is no favourite of mine, as you well know, Emma; but you must think him agreeable. Can you lay your hand on your heart, and say you do not?”
“Indeed, I can, both hands, and spread to their widest extent.”
“I should like to know the man you do think agreeable.”
“His name is Howard.”
“Howard! Dear me; I cannot think of him but as playing cards with Lady Osborne, and looking proud. I must own, however, that it is a relief to me to find you can speak as you do of Tom Musgrave. My heart did misgive me that you would like him too well. You talked so stoutly beforehand, that I was sadly afraid your brag would be punished. I only hope it will last, and that he will not come on to pay you much attention. It is a hard thing for a woman to stand against the flattering ways of a man, when he is bent upon pleasing her.”
As their quietly sociable little meal concluded, Miss Watson could not help observing how comfortably it had passed.
“It is so delightful to me,” said she, “to have things going on in peace and good-humour. Nobody can tell how much I hate quarrelling. Now, though we have had nothing but fried beef, how good it has all seemed! I wish everybody were as easily satisfied as you; but poor Margaret is very snappish, and Penelope owns she had rather have quarrelling going on than nothing at all.”
Mr. Watson returned in the evening not the worse for the exertion of the day, and, consequently pleased with what he had done, and glad to talk of it over his own fireside. Emma had not foreseen any interest to herself in the occurrences of a visitation; but when she heard Mr. Howard spoken of as the preacher, and as having given them an excellent sermon, she could not help listening with a quicker ear.
“I do not know when I have heard a discourse more to my mind,” continued Mr. Watson, “or one better delivered. He reads extremely well, with great propriety, and in a very impressive manner, and at the same time without any theatrical grimace or violence. I own I do not like much action in the pulpit; I do not like the studied air and artificial inflexions of voice which your very popular and most admired preachers generally have. A simple delivery is much better calculated to inspire devotion, and shows a much better taste. Mr. Howard read like a scholar and a gentleman.”
“And what had you for dinner, sir?” said his eldest daughter.
He related the dishes, and told what he had ate himself.
“Upon the whole,” he added, “I have had a very comfortable day. My old friends were quite surprised to see me amongst them, and I must say that everybody paid me great attention, and seemed to feel for me as an invalid. They would make me sit near the fire; and as the partridges were pretty high, Dr. Richards would have them sent away to the other end of the table, `that they might not offend Mr. Watson,’ which I thought very kind of him. But what pleased me as much as anything was Mr. Howard’s attention. There is a pretty steep flight of steps up to the room we dine in, which do not quite agree with my gouty foot; and Mr. Howard walked by me from the bottom to the top, and would make me take his arm. It struck me as very becoming in so young a man; but I am sure I had no claim to expect it, for I never saw him before in my life. By the by, he inquired after one of my daughters; but I do not know which. I suppose you know among yourselves.”
CHAPTER 3
On the third day after the ball, as Nanny, at five minutes before three, was beginning to bustle into the parlour with the tray and the knife-case, she was suddenly called to the front door by the sound of as smart a rap as the end of a riding-whip could give; and though charged by Miss Watson to let nobody in, returned in half a minute with a look of awkward dismay to hold the parlour door open for Lord Osborne and Tom Musgrave. The surprise of the young ladies may be imagined. No visitors would have been welcome at such a moment, but such visitors as these — such a one as Lord Osborne at least, a nobleman and a stranger — was really distressing.
He looked a little embarrassed himself, as, on being introduced by his easy, voluble friend, he muttered something of doing himself the honour of waiting upon Mr. Watson. Though Emma could not but take the compliment of the visit to herself, she was very far from enjoying it. She felt all the inconsistency of such an acquaintance with the very humble style in which they were obliged to live; and having in her aunt’s family been used to many of the elegancies of life, was fully sensible of all that must be open to the ridicule of richer people in her present home. Of the pain of such feelings, Elizabeth knew very little. Her simple mind, or juster reason, saved her from such mortification; and though shrink
ing under a general sense of inferiority, she felt no particular shame. Mr. Watson, as the gentlemen had already heard from Nanny, was not well enough to be down-stairs. With much concern they took their seats; Lord Osborne near Emma, and the convenient Mr. Musgrave, in high spirits at his own importance, on the other side of the fireplace, with Elizabeth. He was at no loss for words; but when Lord Osborne had hoped that Emma had not caught cold at the ball, he had nothing more to say for some time, and could only gratify his eye by occasional glances at his fair neighbour. Emma was not inclined to give herself much trouble for his entertainment; and after hard labour of mind, he produced the remark of its being a very fine day, and followed it up with the question of, “Have you been walking this morning?”
“No, my lord; we thought it too dirty.”
“You should wear half-boots.” After another pause: “Nothing sets off a neat ankle more than a half-boot; nankeen galoshed with black looks very well. Do not you like half-boots?”
“Yes; but unless they are so stout as to injure their beauty, they are not fit for country walking.”
“Ladies should ride in dirty weather. Do you ride?”
“No, my lord.”
“I wonder every lady does not; a woman never looks better than on horseback.”
“But every woman may not have the inclination, or the means.”
“If they knew how much it became them, they would all have the inclination; and I fancy, Miss Watson, when once they had the inclination, the means would soon follow.”
“Your lordship thinks we always have our own way. That is a point on which ladies and gentlemen have long disagreed; but without pretending to decide it, I may say that there are some circumstances which even women cannot control. Female economy will do a great deal my lord: but it cannot turn a small income into a large one.”
Lord Osborne was silenced. Her manner had been neither sententious nor sarcastic; but there was a something in its mild seriousness, as well as in the words themselves, which made his lordship think; and when he addressed her again, it was with a degree of considerate propriety totally unlike the half-awkward, half-fearless style of his former remarks. It was a new thing with him to wish to please a woman; it was the first time that he had ever felt what was due to a woman in Emma’s situation; but as he wanted neither in sense nor a good disposition, he did not feel it without effect.
