Emma and the Werewolves (51 page)

“
Can you trust me with such
flatterers? Does my vain spirit ever tell me I am
wrong?”

“
Not your vain spirit, but
your serious spirit. If one leads you wrong, I am sure the other
tells you of it.”

“
I do own myself to have
been completely mistaken in Mr. Elton. There is a littleness about
him which you discovered, and which I did not: and I was fully
convinced of his being in love with Harriet. It was through a
series of strange blunders!”

“
And, in return for your
acknowledging so much, I will do you the justice to say, that you
would have chosen for him better than he has chosen for himself.
Harriet Smith has some first-rate qualities, which Mrs. Elton is
totally without. An unpretending, single-minded, artless
girl—infinitely to be preferred by any man of sense and taste to
such a woman as Mrs. Elton. I found Harriet more conversable than I
expected.”

Emma was extremely gratified. They were
interrupted by the bustle of Mr. Weston calling on every body to
begin dancing again.

“
Come Miss Woodhouse, Miss
Otway, Miss Fairfax, what are you all doing? Come Emma, set your
companions the example. Every body is lazy! Every body is
asleep!”

“
I am ready,” said Emma,
“whenever I am wanted.”

“
Whom are you going to
dance with?” asked Mr. Knightley.

She hesitated a moment, and then replied,
“With you, if you will ask me.”

“
Will you?” said he,
offering his hand.

“
Indeed I will. You have
shewn that you can dance, and you know we are not really so much
brother and sister as to make it at all improper.”

“
Brother and sister! no,
indeed.”

Their dance was long and
slow. At last, Mr. Knightley became himself and whatever evils
plagued him seemed to vanish as he took her hand. Their dance was
long and filled with grace and unspoken words that burned in their
hearts. When the dance concluded, however, Mr. Knightley promptly
excused himself and headed out into the night. Emma made excuses
herself and followed him. The stars were bright and she noticed
that as soon as he thought himself beyond sight of those inside, he
broke into a run. Indeed, had she not followed him, she would have
never noticed his odd behavior. She did her best to keep after him
but it proved impossible. He was too fast and unbelievably so.
Surrendering her pursuit, she returned to the dance, which was
dying down and beginning to break up.

Knightley felt the evil
stronger than ever before as he crested the hill and knew the demon
was calling to him. It would have to deal with him before claiming
the souls of those he’d just left while there were so many gathered
in one place. Knightley’s pace did not slow. He kept moving,
running through and jumping over the obstacles of the forest until
he reached the clearing where the monster waited. It stood now
taller than ever, a full twelve feet stretching towards the
heavens. It not longer looked half-formed, but rather a fully
developed entity in its own right—an odd mix of wolf and man. Its
left leg was human, its right covered in the matted hair of a wolf.
Its torso was much the same, bits were flesh and others hide. Its
two heads had merged into one, now fully that of a wolf except the
eyes. The monster’s eyes burned with a human intellect and the rage
of a man filled with hate against all things good and holy. Its
human-shaped right hand rose in a gesture for Knightley to halt as
its wolfen hand flexed its claws in readiness. Knightley was not
wearing his mask or hunting garb but he was armed to the teeth. A
quick stop at one of his well-placed caches he had set up before
the dance gave him all the weapons he needed. He flung open his
coat, hands tearing twin silver blades from their sheathes. He
loosed them. They spun end over end through the air, whistling from
their speed. Each slammed into the monster’s chest, burying
themselves in its flesh and fur . . . with no apparent
effect.

Knightley did not slow but rather increased
his speed towards the monster. It stood its ground and snarled. As
he reached it, Knightley drew the two pistols which hung on his
belt and fired them point blank into its eyes. The creature let out
a roar of rage and fury as it stumbled backwards. Tossing the
pistols aside, Knightley drew two more blades from the sheathes
strapped to his boots and plunged them into the thing’s stomach,
twisting them with all his might. The monster’s entrails poured
from the gaping wound he cut there. Then it made its move. A mighty
wolf-like paw backhanded Knightley and swept him from his feet. He
rolled with the blow or he might not have survived its fury.
Spitting teeth, he tried to get back to his feet but the thing was
already on him. It lifted him effortlessly into the air above its
head with a single hand, paying no mind to its insides which
dangled from its open belly to drag in the dirt. Knightley squirmed
against its hold on his neck and jerked a cask from his pocket. He
splashed its contents into the thing’s face. It howled as flames
erupted from the touch of the holy water which rained down upon it.
The wolf dropped him.

Knightley retreated to the
edge of the clearing as the thing smashed its huge hands into its
own face, trying to extinguish the blaze still sweeping over it.
Knightley knew the moment was at hand. He gathered his strength and
sprinted towards the monster. It had taken a long time and almost
all of his meager savings, but he had fashioned another device like
the one he’d used against Selena and her pack. He lit its fuse and
plunged it into the wound in the monster’s stomach. It looked down
at him through the dying wafts of smoke from its burnt cheeks. Its
eyes went wide as it realized what he had done. Knightley spun on
his feet, sprinting away from the beast. The explosion was
deafening and lifted him like a doll, flinging him onward, out of
the clearing. He smashed into the forest floor; a wave of heat
washed over his back. He rolled in the dirt, putting out the flames
which had sprung to life on his jacket as pieces of the monster
rained down on him. The whole clearing was ablaze in various spots
and the small fires lit the night even more than the bright stars
above.

Knightley scampered up a tiny hill on his
hands and knees before fully turning to take in the destruction.
The demon was dead and gone. Bits of it lay in the grass,
dissolving into nothingness before his very eyes. Finally, the
reign of terror which held Highbury in its grasp for so long was
now truly and finally over. His body ached and his power was gone.
This time for good, he hoped. Exhausted, he lay back on the grass
and watched the flames of the small fires dance amid the darkness.
His life was his own again and a bit of rest was well deserved
before he carried on with it. His thoughts drifted to Emma and the
feel of her pressing against him as he fell asleep. It was a
bittersweet dream as Knightley knew that Emma could never be his
own. There was no guarantee that more evil would find its way to
this village and once more he would have to make a stand against
it. He vowed to himself that he would do his best to keep Emma away
from him by any means possible.

* * * *

Chapter III

T
he
little explanation of
the night before with
Mr. Knightley gave Emma considerable pleasure. It was one of the
agreeable recollections of the ball, which she walked about the
lawn the next morning to enjoy. She was extremely glad that they
had come to so good an understanding respecting the Eltons, and
that their opinions of both husband and wife were so much alike;
and his praise of Harriet, his concession in her favour, was
peculiarly gratifying. The impertinence of the Eltons, which for a
few minutes had threatened to ruin the rest of her evening, had
been the occasion of some of its highest satisfactions; and she
looked forward to another happy result—the cure of Harriet’s
infatuation. From Harriet’s manner of speaking of the circumstance
before they quitted the ballroom, she had strong hopes. It seemed
as if her eyes were suddenly opened, and she were enabled to see
that Mr. Elton was not the superior creature she had believed him.
The fever was over, and Emma could harbour little fear of the pulse
being quickened again by injurious courtesy. She depended on the
evil feelings of the Eltons for supplying all the discipline of
pointed neglect that could be farther requisite. Harriet rational,
Frank Churchill not too much in love, and Mr. Knightley not wanting
to quarrel with her, how very happy a summer must be before
her!

She was not to see Frank Churchill this
morning. He had told her that he could not allow himself the
pleasure of stopping at Hartfield, as he was to be at home by the
middle of the day. She did not regret it.

Having arranged all these
matters, looked them through, and put them all to rights, she was
just turning to the house with spirits freshened up for the demands
of the two little boys, as well as of their grandpapa, when the
great iron sweep-gate opened, and two persons entered whom she had
never less expected to see together—Frank Churchill, with Harriet
leaning on his arm—actually Harriet! A moment sufficed to convince
her that something extraordinary had happened. Harriet looked white
and frightened, and he was trying to cheer her. The iron gates and
the front-door were not twenty yards asunder; they were all three
soon in the hall, and Harriet immediately sinking into a chair
fainted away.

A young lady who faints, must be recovered;
questions must be answered, and surprizes be explained. Such events
are very interesting, but the suspense of them cannot last long. A
few minutes made Emma acquainted with the whole.

Miss Smith, and Miss
Bickerton, another parlour boarder at Mrs. Goddard’s, who had been
also at the ball, had walked out together, and taken a road, the
Richmond road, which, though apparently public enough for safety,
had led them into alarm. About half a mile beyond Highbury, making
a sudden turn, and deeply shaded by elms on each side, it became
for a considerable stretch very retired; and when the young ladies
had advanced some way into it, they had suddenly perceived at a
small distance before them, on a broader patch of greensward by the
side, a party of gipsies. A child on the watch, came towards them
to beg; and Miss Bickerton, excessively frightened, gave a great
scream, and calling on Harriet to follow her, ran up a steep bank,
cleared a slight hedge at the top, and made the best of her way by
a short cut back to Highbury. But poor Harriet could not follow.
She had suffered very much from cramp after dancing, and her first
attempt to mount the bank brought on such a return of it as made
her absolutely powerless—and in this state, and exceedingly
terrified, she had been obliged to remain.

How the trampers might have
behaved, had the young ladies been more courageous, must be
doubtful; but such an invitation for attack could not be resisted;
and Harriet was soon assailed by half a dozen children, headed by a
stout woman and a great boy, all clamorous, and impertinent in
look, though not absolutely in word. More and more frightened, she
immediately promised them money, and taking out her purse, gave
them a shilling, and begged them not to want more, or to use her
ill. She was then able to walk, though but slowly, and was moving
away—but her terror and her purse were too tempting, and she was
followed, or rather surrounded, by the whole gang, demanding
more.

In this state Frank
Churchill had found her, she trembling and conditioning, they loud
and insolent. By a most fortunate chance his leaving Highbury had
been delayed so as to bring him to her assistance at this critical
moment. The pleasantness of the morning had induced him to walk
forward, and leave his horses to meet him by another road, a mile
or two beyond Highbury—and happening to have borrowed a pair of
scissors the night before of Miss Bates, and to have forgotten to
restore them, he had been obliged to stop at her door, and go in
for a few minutes: he was therefore later than he had intended; and
being on foot, was unseen by the whole party till almost close to
them. The terror which the woman and boy had been creating in
Harriet was then their own portion. He had left them completely
frightened; and Harriet eagerly clinging to him, and hardly able to
speak, had just strength enough to reach Hartfield, before her
spirits were quite overcome. It was his idea to bring her to
Hartfield: he had thought of no other place.

This was the amount of the
whole story, —of his communication and of Harriet’s as soon as she
had recovered her senses and speech. He dared not stay longer than
to see her well; these several delays left him not another minute
to lose; and Emma engaging to give assurance of her safety to Mrs.
Goddard, and notice of there being such a set of people in the
neighbourhood to Mr. Knightley, he set off, with all the grateful
blessings that she could utter for her friend and
herself.

Such an adventure as this,
—a fine young man and a lovely young woman thrown together in such
a way, could hardly fail of suggesting certain ideas to the coldest
heart and the steadiest brain. So Emma thought, at least. Could a
linguist, could a grammarian, could even a mathematician have seen
what she did, have witnessed their appearance together, and heard
their history of it, without feeling that circumstances had been at
work to make them peculiarly interesting to each other? How much
more must an imaginist, like herself, be on fire with speculation
and foresight! especially with such a groundwork of anticipation as
her mind had already made.