Emma and the Werewolves (46 page)

“
Yes, sir, I did indeed;
and I am very much obliged by your kind solicitude about
me.”

“
My dear Miss Fairfax,
young ladies are very sure to be cared for. I hope your good
grand-mama and aunt are well. They are some of my very old friends.
I wish my health allowed me to be a better neighbour. You do us a
great deal of honour to-day, I am sure. My daughter and I are both
highly sensible of your goodness, and have the greatest
satisfaction in seeing you at Hartfield.”

The kind-hearted, polite old man might then
sit down and feel that he had done his duty, and made every fair
lady welcome and easy.

By this time, the walk in the rain had
reached Mrs. Elton, and her remonstrances now opened upon Jane.

“
My dear Jane, what is this
I hear? Going to the post-office in the rain! This must not be, I
assure you. You sad girl, how could you do such a thing? It is a
sign I was not there to take care of you.”

Jane very patiently assured her that she had
not caught any cold.

“
Oh! do not tell me. You
really are a very sad girl, and do not know how to take care of
yourself. To the post-office indeed! Mrs. Weston, did you ever hear
the like? You and I must positively exert our
authority.”

“
My advice,” said Mrs.
Weston kindly and persuasively, “I certainly do feel tempted to
give. Miss Fairfax, you must not run such risks. Liable as you have
been to severe colds, indeed you ought to be particularly careful,
especially at this time of year. The spring I always think requires
more than common care. Better wait an hour or two, or even half a
day for your letters, than run the risk of bringing on your cough
again. Now do not you feel that you had? Yes, I am sure you are
much too reasonable. You look as if you would not do such a thing
again.”

“
Oh! she shall not do such
a thing again,” eagerly rejoined Mrs. Elton. “We will not allow her
to do such a thing again:” —and nodding significantly— “there must
be some arrangement made, there must indeed. I shall speak to Mr.
E. The man who fetches our letters every morning (one of our men, I
forget his name) shall inquire for yours too and bring them to you.
That will obviate all difficulties you know; and from us I really
think, my dear Jane, you can have no scruple to accept such an
accommodation.”

“
You are extremely kind,”
said Jane; “but I cannot give up my early walk. I am advised to be
out of doors as much as I can, I must walk somewhere, and the
post-office is an object; and upon my word, I have scarcely ever
had a bad morning before.”

“
My dear Jane, say no more
about it. The thing is determined, that is (laughing affectedly) as
far as I can presume to determine any thing without the concurrence
of my lord and master. You know, Mrs. Weston, you and I must be
cautious how we express ourselves. But I do flatter myself, my dear
Jane, that my influence is not entirely worn out. If I meet with no
insuperable difficulties therefore, consider that point as
settled.”

“
Excuse me,” said Jane
earnestly, “I cannot by any means consent to such an arrangement,
so needlessly troublesome to your servant. If the errand were not a
pleasure to me, it could be done, as it always is when I am not
here, by my grandmama’s.”

“
Oh! my dear; but so much
as Patty has to do! And it is a kindness to employ our
men.”

Jane looked as if she did not mean to be
conquered; but instead of answering, she began speaking again to
Mr. John Knightley.

“
The post-office is a
wonderful establishment!” said she. “The regularity and despatch of
it! If one thinks of all that it has to do, and all that it does so
well, it is really astonishing!”

“
It is certainly very well
regulated.”

“
So seldom that any
negligence or blunder appears! So seldom that a letter, among the
thousands that are constantly passing about the kingdom, is even
carried wrong—and not one in a million, I suppose, actually lost!
And when one considers the variety of hands, and of bad hands too,
that are to be deciphered, it increases the wonder.”

“
The clerks grow expert
from habit. They must begin with some quickness of sight and hand,
and exercise improves them. If you want any farther explanation,”
continued he, smiling, “they are paid for it. That is the key to a
great deal of capacity. The public pays and must be served
well.”

The varieties of
handwriting were farther talked of, and the usual observations
made.

“
I have heard it asserted,”
said John Knightley, “that the same sort of handwriting often
prevails in a family; and where the same master teaches, it is
natural enough. But for that reason, I should imagine the likeness
must be chiefly confined to the females, for boys have very little
teaching after an early age, and scramble into any hand they can
get. Isabella and Emma, I think, do write very much alike. I have
not always known their writing apart.”

“
Yes,” said his brother
hesitatingly, “there is a likeness. I know what you mean—but Emma’s
hand is the strongest.”

“
Isabella and Emma both
write beautifully,” said Mr. Woodhouse, “and always did. And so
does poor Mrs. Weston,” with half a sigh and half a smile at
her.

“
I never saw any
gentleman’s handwriting” —Emma began, looking also at Mrs. Weston;
but stopped, on perceiving that Mrs. Weston was attending to some
one else—and the pause gave her time to reflect, “Now, how am I
going to introduce him? Am I unequal to speaking his name at once
before all these people? Is it necessary for me to use any
roundabout phrase? Your Yorkshire friend—your correspondent in
Yorkshire; that would be the way, I suppose, if I were very bad.
No, I can pronounce his name without the smallest distress. I
certainly get better and better. Now for it.”

Mrs. Weston was disengaged
and Emma began again— “Mr. Frank Churchill writes one of the best
gentleman’s hands I ever saw.”

“
I do not admire it,” said
Mr. Knightley. “It is too small—wants strength. It is like a
woman’s writing.”

This was not submitted to
by either lady. They vindicated him against the base aspersion.
“No, it by no means wanted strength—it was not a large hand, but
very clear and certainly strong. Had not Mrs. Weston any letter
about her to produce?” No, she had heard from him very lately, but
having answered the letter, had put it away.

“
If we were in the other
room,” said Emma, “if I had my writing-desk, I am sure I could
produce a specimen. I have a note of his. Do not you remember, Mrs.
Weston, employing him to write for you one day?”

“
He chose to say he was
employed” —

“
Well, well, I have that
note; and can shew it after dinner to convince Mr.
Knightley.”

“
Oh! when a gallant young
man, like Mr. Frank Churchill,” said Mr. Knightley dryly, “writes
to a fair lady like Miss Woodhouse, he will, of course, put forth
his best.”

Dinner was on table. Mrs.
Elton, before she could be spoken to, was ready; and before Mr.
Woodhouse had reached her with his request to be allowed to hand
her into the dining-parlour, was saying—

“
Must I go first? I really
am ashamed of always leading the way.”

Jane’s solicitude about
fetching her own letters had not escaped Emma. She had heard and
seen it all; and felt some curiosity to know whether the wet walk
of this morning had produced any. She suspected that it had; that
it would not have been so resolutely encountered but in full
expectation of hearing from some one very dear, and that it had not
been in vain. She thought there was an air of greater happiness
than usual—a glow both of complexion and spirits.

She could have made an
inquiry or two, as to the expedition and the expense of the Irish
mails; it was at her tongue’s end—but she abstained. She was quite
determined not to utter a word that should hurt Jane Fairfax’s
feelings; and they followed the other ladies out of the room, arm
in arm, with an appearance of good-will highly becoming to the
beauty and grace of each.

* * * *

Chapter XVII

W
hen the ladies returned
to the
drawing-room after dinner, Emma found it hardly possible to prevent
their making two distinct parties; with so much perseverance in
judging and behaving ill did Mrs. Elton engross Jane Fairfax and
slight herself. She and Mrs. Weston were obliged to be almost
always either talking together or silent together. Mrs. Elton left
them no choice. If Jane repressed her for a little time, she soon
began again; and though much that passed between them was in a
half-whisper, especially on Mrs. Elton’s side, there was no
avoiding a knowledge of their principal subjects: The
post-office—catching cold—fetching letters—and friendship, were
long under discussion; and to them succeeded one, which must be at
least equally unpleasant to Jane—inquiries whether she had yet
heard of any situation likely to suit her, and professions of Mrs.
Elton’s meditated activity.

“
Here is April come!” said
she, “I get quite anxious about you. June will soon be
here.”

“
But I have never fixed on
June or any other month—merely looked forward to the summer in
general.”

“
But have you really heard
of nothing?”

“
I have not even made any
inquiry; I do not wish to make any yet.”

“
Oh! my dear, we cannot
begin too early; you are not aware of the difficulty of procuring
exactly the desirable thing.”

“
I not aware!” said Jane,
shaking her head; “dear Mrs. Elton, who can have thought of it as I
have done?”

“
But you have not seen so
much of the world as I have. You do not know how many candidates
there always are for the first situations. I saw a vast deal of
that in the neighbourhood round Maple Grove. A cousin of Mr.
Suckling, Mrs. Bragge, had such an infinity of applications; every
body was anxious to be in her family, for she moves in the first
circle. Wax-candles in the schoolroom! You may imagine how
desirable! Of all houses in the kingdom Mrs. Bragge’s is the one I
would most wish to see you in.”

“
Colonel and Mrs. Campbell
are to be in town again by midsummer,” said Jane. “I must spend
some time with them; I am sure they will want it; afterwards I may
probably be glad to dispose of myself. But I would not wish you to
take the trouble of making any inquiries at present.”

“
Trouble! aye, I know your
scruples. You are afraid of giving me trouble; but I assure you, my
dear Jane, the Campbells can hardly be more interested about you
than I am. I shall write to Mrs. Partridge in a day or two, and
shall give her a strict charge to be on the look-out for any thing
eligible.”

“
Thank you, but I would
rather you did not mention the subject to her; till the time draws
nearer, I do not wish to be giving any body trouble.”

“
But, my dear child, the
time is drawing near; here is April, and June, or say even July, is
very near, with such business to accomplish before us. Your
inexperience really amuses me! A situation such as you deserve, and
your friends would require for you, is no everyday occurrence, is
not obtained at a moment’s notice; indeed, indeed, we must begin
inquiring directly.”

“
Excuse me, ma’am, but this
is by no means my intention; I make no inquiry myself, and should
be sorry to have any made by my friends. When I am quite determined
as to the time, I am not at all afraid of being long unemployed.
There are places in town, offices, where inquiry would soon produce
something—Offices for the sale—not quite of human flesh—but of
human intellect.”

“
Oh! my dear, human flesh!
You quite shock me; if you mean a fling at the slave-trade, I
assure you Mr. Suckling was always rather a friend to the
abolition.”

“
I did not mean, I was not
thinking of the slave-trade,” replied Jane; “governess-trade, I
assure you, was all that I had in view; widely different certainly
as to the guilt of those who carry it on; but as to the greater
misery of the victims, I do not know where it lies. But I only mean
to say that there are advertising offices, and that by applying to
them I should have no doubt of very soon meeting with something
that would do.”

“
Something that would do!”
repeated Mrs. Elton. “Aye, that may suit your humble ideas of
yourself; I know what a modest creature you are; but it will not
satisfy your friends to have you taking up with any thing that may
offer, any inferior, commonplace situation, in a family not moving
in a certain circle, or able to command the elegancies of
life.”

“
You are very obliging; but
as to all that, I am very indifferent; it would be no object to me
to be with the rich; my mortifications, I think, would only be the
greater; I should suffer more from comparison. A gentleman’s family
is all that I should condition for.”

“
I know you, I know you;
you would take up with any thing; but I shall be a little more
nice, and I am sure the good Campbells will be quite on my side;
with your superior talents, you have a right to move in the first
circle. Your musical knowledge alone would entitle you to name your
own terms, have as many rooms as you like, and mix in the family as
much as you chose; that is—I do not know—if you knew the harp, you
might do all that, I am very sure; but you sing as well as play;
yes, I really believe you might, even without the harp, stipulate
for what you chose; and you must and shall be delightfully,
honourably and comfortably settled before the Campbells or I have
any rest.”