And Who Can Be In Doubt Of What Followed

by Alexa Adams

  “Why should he do such a thing?” she demanded.

  “He found out about Fanny and saw Maria as the best means to crush my hopes.”

  ‘Oh!” Mary’s face flushed with anger. “I had thought my mortifications at the hands of that man was done. If it were some other lady, any other lady, there might be hope for you yet, but Fanny will never forgive such public exposure of weakness, let alone with her cousin!”

  “I have lost her forever,” he said mournfully. “She once accused me of being unsteady. Now she has her proof!”

  “I am sorry it is so, , Henry, but now we shall have to see what can be made of Mrs. Rushworth.”

  “The Admiral suggests I take her into the country: somewhere discreet. We shall have to wait and see what Mr. Rushworth will do. Perhaps he might still take her back?”

  Mary pondered a moment before replying, “If any man might be persuaded to such indignity, I would believe it of Mr. Rushworth, but would she even go with him?”

  “No,” he sighed, “but perhaps, after tempers have cooled, he might see to providing her some settlement or another. I have no wish to be strapped to her for life.”

  She shook her head. “He will divorce her, Henry, and you must do what you can to restore her honor by giving her your name.”

  “My dear Mary, I have no desire to be married to the lady! If she had not been so foolish, I might still have hope of winning Fanny! I shan’t abandon her – that would never do – but I’d be happy to make her someone else’s responsibility.”

  “Henry!” she reprimanded. “Have you not thought what this means for me?”

  “You speak of Edmund,” he replied softly, true affection for his sister illuminating the far-reaching consequences of Mrs. Rushworth’s actions. “I’m not sure you will find him any more understanding than Miss Price.”

  “Why should he and I suffer for your folly!” she cried, pleading tears in her eyes.

  “You should not. If anyone might make him relent, it is you, dear sister. Work upon him the best you can, and I will endeavor to forge something worth sustaining with Mrs. Rushworth. The lady does not deserve the consideration, having caused such trouble, but for your sake I will forbear.”

  So the siblings parted, clinging to their last, dwindling hopes of permanent connection to Mansfield and the attendant domestic happiness both had there learned to estimate. But if Henry thought himself cornered, Maria was certainly doomed, her condition now far more akin to that mournful starling’s than when she had coquettishly invoked it, though she had yet to recognize the bars of her own cage. The gentleman escaped with his unwanted mistress into the countryside, there to spend many increasingly unsatisfying months in her company. It was not long before both detested the other so completely that a rupture was inevitable. He blamed her for the loss of Fanny, while she mocked him for his infatuation with the cousin she had never valued. If either party knew how little the subject of their dispute cared for either's actions – indeed, how she could almost be thankful for their foolishness, as it so cleanly cleared the path to her own happiness – their chagrin would have been perfectly complete.

  Emma

  The wedding was over, the new Mrs. Martin safely placed in the midst of those who loved her, ensconced in her home at Abbey-Mill Farm, but unlike a previous occasion, when Emma lost her dear Miss Taylor, this event was not tinged by attendant sorrow. Mr. Woodhouse could deplore a marriage of any sort, but only a person of his great delicacy could find hardship in such an unexceptional marriage as Harriet Smith’s to Robert Martin. Fortunately, all the Knghtley’s were at Hartfield to help alleviate his melancholy.

  “Poor Miss Smith! How I wish she were here to enjoy this repast. Mrs. Martin cannot understand the boiling of an egg as well as Serle — nobody does! What a pity Mr. Martin ever thought of our dear Miss Smith!”

  “I would say that the pity lies in the abundance of poultry at Abbey-Mill. All those eggs, and the new mistress too spoiled by Serle to eat them!” retorted Mr. John Knightley, not without good humor.

  “Her time at Hartfield must render life elsewhere a trial, and Mrs. Martin does not have a proper cook in her employ.“ He turned towards Isabella, “I do not know how you can bear London, my poor child. It is a dreadful thing to have you living so far off, even with the benefits of a proper staff, though I can’t say I like your Betty.”

  Here was dangerous ground, but the elder Mr. Knightley was quick to take up the defense. “I plan to add an additional room to the Farm house to honor the occasion come spring. What say you, John, to accompanying William Larkins and myself on our survey of the property tomorrow? Henry and John will enjoy the outing. The apples should be ready for picking, and I am sure Martin wouldn’t mind if they pilfered a few from his trees.”

  The diversion succeeded, and the brothers spent many content minutes in contemplation of the scheme, leaving the redirection of Mr. Woodhouse’s mind in the capable hands of his youngest daughter.

  “We shall make our wedding visit soon, Papa. It can easily be accomplished before one of our visits to Randells, taken in upon our return route.”

  But this suggestion did not sit as well with Mr. Woodhouse as Emma had hoped, he being, at present, most determined upon seeing everything, particularly regarding the subject of matrimony, in the most negative light. “I do not know the ways of Abbey-Mill Farm. Where are the poor horses to be while we are paying our visit?”

  “We shall not visit long, Papa, and while the weather remains mild James can have no objection to walking them for fifteen minutes. A bride must not be neglected, you know.”

  “Oh, dear me, no. I hope I shall never be guilty of not doing my duty towards a newly married woman, especially one who has been such a good companion to you, my dear Emma, as poor Miss Smith. How she will miss your company! She so delighted in her time at Hartfield!”

  “I remember you saying something very similar, Papa, upon Mrs. Weston’s marriage, and look how happy she is now, with her dear little Anna. Is it not wonderful how our father dotes on the child, Isabella?”

  At the mention of the baby, which inevitably conjured thoughts of her own, Mrs. Knightley was predictably sentimental. She had much to contribute on the subject, all of which can be understood from her conclusion: “Children are the greatest blessing of marriage.”

  “I shall remember that, my love,” inserted his husband from the opposite end of the table. “What role has a man to play in the felicities of the matrimonial state, except to pay the doctor’s bill?” Turning towards his brother, “Most married men have cause to complain of charges to the dressmaker or milliner, but my Isabella will insist on single-handedly funding the education of all the little Wingfields.”

  “The children have not been ill, have they, Isabella my dear?” asked her father in alarm. “I did not think little Emma looked quite as rosy as on her last visit. I shall have Perry look at her in the morning.”

  “That is most unnecessary, sir, though I am always happy to see dear Mr. Perry. John only jests. He would make out that I coddle the children, but indeed I only call on Mr. Wingfield when there is true cause for alarm, of which we have thankfully had none this summer. And you do me an injustice, dear, in thinking I do not value your contribution. I think there could not be a more devoted wife than I!”

  “I am sure he believes nothing of the sort, Isabella,” replied Emma on her brother’s behalf, as he was once again engaged in talk of land and improvements.

  “One cannot be too careful with the health of the young. It is best to take no risks. As I was telling dear Mrs. Weston just the other day, one should always send for Perry if a child appears in the slightest degree disordered, be it only for a moment. One can not be too soon alarmed, nor send for Perry too often.”

  “Miss Fairfax should now be comfortably settled again with the Campbells. What fascinating tales they must have to tell of their travels in Ireland!” Silently, Emma considered what a vast improvement such conversation must be over that of
Miss Bates, but she schooled herself to keep such opinions confined to her own mind.

  “Dear Jane Fairfax! One could not be happier for her. Such a deserving young woman, and such an unexpectedly advantageous match! Who would have thought that our own Mr. Churchill and Miss Fairfax would suit so well? It is such a satisfyingly romantic result to all our concern for her future, is it not, Papa?” beamed Isabella.

  “One must be happy that poor Jane Fairfax should not be forced to make her own way in the world. The prospect was most distressing to her aunt and grandmother, as well as to myself. Yet now she is forced back into the bad air of London, and Mr. Frank Churchill as well. They would have both done better to remain in Highbury. Everyone was so happy here.”

  “For shame, Papa! We must rejoice for the establishment of Miss Fairfax at Enscombe, once the Churchill’s complete their period of mourning. Only think of what it will mean for her well-being, instead of being confined to the small rooms the Bateses inhabit here. And consider also what she will be able to do to improve the comfort of your old friends — they who deserve so much, but have been forced to subsist on so little,” reasoned Emma.

  “Very true, my dear. I cannot help but be glad of what must benefit my friends. The match is a necessary evil, I suppose. How I do deplore a marriage! They are silly things, and break up one’s family circle most grievously.”

  This statement garnered the attention of all the table, as it bode so poorly for the two members of it with whom we are particularly concerned. Quite against his custom, but driven by a strong sense of brotherly affection, it was John Knightley who attempted to placate his father-in-law. “My dear sir, surely you cannot believe such to always be the case. Only look at the forthcoming union of your own daughter and my brother, which will consequently expand your family circle, not contract it. Think how comfortable you all will be!” He spoke well, if not perfectly honestly, for no incentive would have induced him to take a similar step as his brother proposed by residing at Hartfield.

  “We are all quite comfortable as we presently are,” insisted an agitated Mr. Woodhouse. “I perceive no reason for alteration, at least not for a great while. Someday, I admit, the arrangement will be quite suitable, and it imparts a good deal of comfort to a man of my years to know his daughters will be well cared for, but at present such an abrupt change seems most unnecessary.”

  Emma, always so quick to sooth her father’s spirits, had no ready reply to this. John Knightley, feeling that there was not much he could say in response to such an irrational line of argument, returned with doubled attention to his plate. As Mr. Knightley did not wish to incense the poor man anymore by defending his claim, it was to Isabella whom this onerous task fell, and she rose to the occasion, though quite inadvertently, by reaching for the oysters.

  “My dear child!” exclaimed Mr. Woodhouse. “A delicate constitution such as yours cannot tolerate such rich foods! Whatever can you be thinking? No indeed, a nice bowl of thin gruel would be much more the thing, do you not agree? I recommend that we all enjoy one this evening. Shall we all partake of a small bowl of gruel, Emma dear?”

  As none of the assembled family had the heart to decline, for the first time ever they all acceded to this unpalatable request. What a shock it was to Serle to receive orders for a full five bowls of gruel one can only surmise.

  **********

  Hartfield was not the only house in Highbury alive with matrimonial chatter. A wedding of any sort will naturally generate a great deal of talk, especially in a small community. At Randalls, feelings were optimistic for the young couple.

  “It is a highly satisfying match. I'm sure no one could think otherwise. Not so great as Frank and Jane's, of course, but I suppose no one ever thought of Miss Smith taking a place amongst society, while our Jane was clearly born to play such a role,” mused a contented Mr. Weston.

  “I do think Emma aimed higher for her friend at one point, but she certainly seems content with the match now. Mr. Knightley once predicted that their friendship would cause Harriet to grow uncomfortable with those whom birth and circumstances had placed her. The conversation seems ages ago, so much has happened since! How wrong he was, and how little he knew then where his own heart would lead him in the course of a mere year.”

  “Now there is a fine match. One could not conceive a more appropriate pairing, and if Mr. Knighltey did not see it coming, he was blinder than I would ever credit. Why, Emma was made for him, and he for her, for that matter. Anyone might depend upon it.”

  Mrs. Weston did not deem it necessary to remind her husband of the hopes they once harbored for a match between Emma and Frank, instead turning her attention to the baby. “Someday, my little darling, it will be your turn to stand at the altar,” cooed Mrs. Weston to the infant in her arms.

  “Let's not be so hasty, Mrs. Weston. There are a good many years before any such event need be contemplated.”

  “Do you not wish for Anna to be well established in life?” questioned his wife, all too familiar with the import of marriage to a female.

  “Yes, yes. Of course I do, my dear, but it doesn’t hinder my joy at having a young Weston around once more! I do not think I can help being a bit sorry when the day comes that she must take on a new identity. I don’t begrudge Frank his name, nor the care the Churchill's have provided him, but it is nice to have an offspring that bears my own.”

  Mrs. Weston smiled at her husband in sympathy, her heart touched by his gentleness. “Perhaps someday you will have another son to carry on the Weston name.”

  Mr. Weston's eyes lit with the thought. “Indeed, my dear. Perhaps we may.”

  At the parsonage, sentiments were of a rather different nature. For two individuals who professed to think little of a Miss Smith, a Mrs. Martin provoked a great deal of interest for Mr. and Mrs. Elton.

  “Her dress was not out of the ordinary, as befit her situation, of course, but I do believe Martin is quite pleased with his bride. Indeed, it is a good match for a young farmer. Her father has behaved quite handsomely, I understand, and Martin has use for the capital. I suppose we must be thankful her hand is safely bestowed, and before Miss Woodhouse succeeded in foisting her off on some unsuspecting gentleman.”

  “Exactly so, Mr. E. I suppose Miss Woodhouse will drop the connection now, as I cannot imagine her visiting at Abbey-Mill. Quite surprising she even stood up with the poor girl, but it would have been rather awkward to abandon her protégée now. We shall see if Mrs. Martin attends Miss Woodhouse's wedding. How could poor Knightley be so taken in?”

  “The young lady's pride should now be contented. I suppose she always meant to catch Knightley if she could.”

  “This will be the end of all pleasant intercourse with him, you know. A disagreeable wife's personality will have adverse effects on a susceptible husband.”

  “Exactly so, my dear.”

  “I am extremely concerned for him, for, though eccentric, he has a thousand good qualities. I do not think him at all in love – not in the least. Poor fellow! It is a sad business for him.”

  “Weston tells me they plan on living at Hartfield, at least until the old gentleman dies. Miss Woodhouse would not be parted from her father. A strange arrangement, I thought, but Weston seems to think it a blessing.”

  “A shocking plan! What can they mean, living all together in such a manner? It will never do, Mr. E, mark my words! I know a family near Maple Grove who attempted it, and they were obliged to separate before the end of the first quarter. Poor Knightley! It is worse than I thought! I wonder how she convinced him to agree to such a notion?”

  “Rather him than I!”

  Mrs. Elton did not find this response particularly satisfying, as all reminders of her husband's prior interest in Miss Woodhouse rankled. She turned the discussion to the demerits of the Donwell housekeeper, to which Mr. Elton had little option but to add his assent.

  Let us return to those more charitably inclined, both towards the newlyweds and the newly engaged
, by listening in on the entirely one-sided discourse Miss Bates maintained on the subject with her mother:

  “Mrs. Cole saw Mr. Elton after the ceremony, and he told her that it all went off very well. Dear little Miss Smith! It does one good to see such a sweet creature happily settled. I am sure Miss Woodhouse must be content with the match, such care she has shown towards her! So kind, so obliging is Miss Woodhouse. As I was saying to Mrs. Cole when I saw her outside of Ford's, where she had just purchased some new trim for her blue spotted muslin – you know the gown I mean, Ma'am? Such a becoming gown, and I am certain it will be born again with the red trim she bought. I told her so much. I said, 'My dear Mrs. Cole, though the gown is perfectly lovely in its current state, I am sure it will be the height of elegance once you have transformed it!' Such a fashionable notion! Why, I do believe even our dear Jane would be enthused on the subject. I must tell her all about it when I next write. I understand Miss Smith wore white muslin — so appropriate for a bride! I am sure she looked perfectly lovely. Such a pretty girl! And after I parted from Mrs. Cole, I bumped into Mr. Weston, just as he was leaving the Crown. 'My dear Mr. Weston!' I said. 'Have you heard about the wedding? Mrs. Cole assures me it was most elegant.' And Mr. Weston, having just been at Hartfield, was able to confirm it was. Such a kind man! As you may expect, Ma'am, we soon fell into conversation about Jane and Mr. Churchill – he had not yet heard about their recent evening at the theater, for dear Mr. Churchill cannot be expected to be the correspondent Jane is – and though I urged him to come inside and read Jane's letter for himself, he was so anxious to return to Randalls and little Anna that he deferred, promising to call on us tomorrow. Is that not something to look forward to? Perhaps he will have more news of Miss Woodhouse and Mr. Knightley's plans, as today he was still unable to confirm if they had set a date or not. What a happy notion for dear Mr. Woodhouse! I am sure he must be thrilled by the match. Can you imagine anything more perfect? Miss Woodhouse and Mr. Knightley! Why, it is almost as exciting as Jane's engagement! I will write to her directly and share all our news. She will be most interested to learn that they have still not decided on a date.”