Emma and the Werewolves (61 page)

“
I am quite easy on that
head,” replied Mrs. Weston. “I am very sure that I never said any
thing of either to the other, which both might not have
heard.”

“
You are in luck. Your only
blunder was confined to my ear, when you imagined a certain friend
of ours in love with the lady.”

“
True. But as I have always
had a thoroughly good opinion of Miss Fairfax, I never could, under
any blunder, have spoken ill of her; and as to speaking ill of him,
there I must have been safe.”

At this moment Mr. Weston
appeared at a little distance from the window, evidently on the
watch. His wife gave him a look which invited him in; and, while he
was coming round, added, “Now, dearest Emma, let me intreat you to
say and look every thing that may set his heart at ease, and
incline him to be satisfied with the match. Let us make the best of
it—and, indeed, almost every thing may be fairly said in her
favour. It is not a connexion to gratify; but if Mr. Churchill does
not feel that, why should we? and it may be a very fortunate
circumstance for him, for Frank, I mean, that he should have
attached himself to a girl of such steadiness of character and good
judgment as I have always given her credit for—and still am
disposed to give her credit for, in spite of this one great
deviation from the strict rule of right. And how much may be said
in her situation for even that error!”

“
Much, indeed!” cried Emma
feelingly. “If a woman can ever be excused for thinking only of
herself, it is in a situation like Jane Fairfax’s. Of such, one may
almost say, that ‘the world is not their’s, nor the world’s
law.’”

She met Mr. Weston on his entrance, with a
smiling countenance, exclaiming,

“
A very pretty trick you
have been playing me, upon my word! This was a device, I suppose,
to sport with my curiosity, and exercise my talent of guessing. But
you really frightened me. I thought you had lost half your
property, at least. And here, instead of its being a matter of
condolence, it turns out to be one of congratulation. I
congratulate you, Mr. Weston, with all my heart, on the prospect of
having one of the most lovely and accomplished young women in
England for your daughter.”

A glance or two between him and his wife,
convinced him that all was as right as this speech proclaimed; and
its happy effect on his spirits was immediate. His air and voice
recovered their usual briskness: he shook her heartily and
gratefully by the hand, and entered on the subject in a manner to
prove, that he now only wanted time and persuasion to think the
engagement no very bad thing. His companions suggested only what
could palliate imprudence, or smooth objections; and by the time
they had talked it all over together, and he had talked it all over
again with Emma, in their walk back to Hartfield, he was become
perfectly reconciled, and not far from thinking it the very best
thing that Frank could possibly have done.

* * * *

Chapter XI

“
H
arriet, poor Harriet!”
Those
were the words; in them lay the
tormenting ideas which Emma could not get rid of, and which
constituted the real misery of the business to her. Frank Churchill
had behaved very ill by herself—very ill in many ways, —but it was
not so much his behaviour as her own, which made her so angry with
him. It was the scrape which he had drawn her into on Harriet’s
account, that gave the deepest hue to his offence. Poor Harriet! to
be a second time the dupe of her misconceptions and flattery. Mr.
Knightley had spoken prophetically, when he once said, “Emma, you
have been no friend to Harriet Smith.” She was afraid she had done
her nothing but disservice. It was true that she had not to charge
herself, in this instance as in the former, with being the sole and
original author of the mischief; with having suggested such
feelings as might otherwise never have entered Harriet’s
imagination; for Harriet had acknowledged her admiration and
preference of Frank Churchill before she had ever given her a hint
on the subject; but she felt completely guilty of having encouraged
what she might have repressed. She might have prevented the
indulgence and increase of such sentiments. Her influence would
have been enough. And now she was very conscious that she ought to
have prevented them. She felt that she had been risking her
friend’s happiness on most insufficient grounds. Common sense would
have directed her to tell Harriet, that she must not allow herself
to think of him, and that there were five hundred chances to one
against his ever caring for her. “But, with common sense,” she
added, “I am afraid I have had little to do.”

She was extremely angry
with herself. If she could not have been angry with Frank Churchill
too, it would have been dreadful. As for Jane Fairfax, she might at
least relieve her feelings from any present solicitude on her
account. Harriet would be anxiety enough; she need no longer be
unhappy about Jane, whose troubles and whose ill-health having, of
course, the same origin, must be equally under cure. Her days of
insignificance and evil were over. She would soon be well, and
happy, and prosperous. Emma could now imagine why her own
attentions had been slighted. This discovery laid many smaller
matters open. No doubt it had been from jealousy. In Jane’s eyes
she had been a rival; and well might any thing she could offer of
assistance or regard be repulsed. An airing in the Hartfield
carriage would have been the rack, and arrowroot from the Hartfield
storeroom must have been poison. She understood it all; and as far
as her mind could disengage itself from the injustice and
selfishness of angry feelings, she acknowledged that Jane Fairfax
would have neither elevation nor happiness beyond her desert. But
poor Harriet was such an engrossing charge! There was little
sympathy to be spared for any body else. Emma was sadly fearful
that this second disappointment would be more severe than the
first. Considering the very superior claims of the object, it
ought; and judging by its apparently stronger effect on Harriet’s
mind, producing reserve and self-command, it would. She must
communicate the painful truth, however, and as soon as possible. An
injunction of secresy had been among Mr. Weston’s parting words.
“For the present, the whole affair was to be completely a secret.
Mr. Churchill had made a point of it, as a token of respect to the
wife he had so very recently lost; and every body admitted it to be
no more than due decorum.” Emma had promised; but still Harriet
must be excepted. It was her superior duty.

In spite of her vexation, she could not help
feeling it almost ridiculous, that she should have the very same
distressing and delicate office to perform by Harriet, which Mrs.
Weston had just gone through by herself. The intelligence, which
had been so anxiously announced to her, she was now to be anxiously
announcing to another. Her heart beat quick on hearing Harriet’s
footstep and voice; so, she supposed, had poor Mrs. Weston felt
when she was approaching Randalls. Could the event of the
disclosure bear an equal resemblance! But of that, unfortunately,
there could be no chance.

“
Well, Miss Woodhouse!”
cried Harriet, coming eagerly into the room— “is not this the
oddest news that ever was?”

“
What news do you mean?”
replied Emma, unable to guess, by look or voice, whether Harriet
could indeed have received any hint.

“
About Jane Fairfax. Did
you ever hear any thing so strange? Oh! you need not be afraid of
owning it to me, for Mr. Weston has told me himself. I met him just
now. He told me it was to be a great secret; and, therefore, I
should not think of mentioning it to any body but you, but he said
you knew it.”

“
What did Mr. Weston tell
you?” said Emma, still perplexed.

“
Oh! he told me all about
it; that Jane Fairfax and Mr. Frank Churchill are to be married,
and that they have been privately engaged to one another this long
while. How very odd!”

It was, indeed, so odd; Harriet’s behaviour
was so extremely odd, that Emma did not know how to understand it.
Her character appeared absolutely changed. She seemed to propose
shewing no agitation, or disappointment, or peculiar concern in the
discovery. Emma looked at her, quite unable to speak.

“
Had you any idea,” cried
Harriet, “of his being in love with her? You, perhaps, might. You
(blushing as she spoke) who can see into every body’s heart; but
nobody else—”

“
Upon my word,” said Emma,
“I begin to doubt my having any such talent. Can you seriously ask
me, Harriet, whether I imagined him attached to another woman at
the very time that I was—tacitly, if not openly—encouraging you to
give way to your own feelings? I never had the slightest suspicion,
till within the last hour, of Mr. Frank Churchill’s having the
least regard for Jane Fairfax. You may be very sure that if I had,
I should have cautioned you accordingly.”

“
Me!” cried Harriet,
colouring, and astonished. “Why should you caution me? You do not
think I care about Mr. Frank Churchill.”

“
I am delighted to hear you
speak so stoutly on the subject,” replied Emma, smiling; “but you
do not mean to deny that there was a time—and not very distant
either—when you gave me reason to understand that you did care
about him?”

“
Him! never, never. Dear
Miss Woodhouse, how could you so mistake me?” turning away
distressed.

“
Harriet!” cried Emma,
after a moment’s pause— “What do you mean? Good Heaven! what do you
mean? Mistake you! Am I to suppose then?”

She could not speak another word. Her voice
was lost; and she sat down, waiting in great terror till Harriet
should answer.

Harriet, who was standing at some distance,
and with face turned from her, did not immediately say any thing;
and when she did speak, it was in a voice nearly as agitated as
Emma’s.

“
I should not have thought
it possible,” she began, “that you could have misunderstood me! I
know we agreed never to name him—but considering how infinitely
superior he is to every body else, I should not have thought it
possible that I could be supposed to mean any other person. Mr.
Frank Churchill, indeed! I do not know who would ever look at him
in the company of the other. I hope I have a better taste than to
think of Mr. Frank Churchill, who is like nobody by his side. And
that you should have been so mistaken, is amazing! I am sure, but
for believing that you entirely approved and meant to encourage me
in my attachment, I should have considered it at first too great a
presumption almost, to dare to think of him. At first, if you had
not told me that more wonderful things had happened; that there had
been matches of greater disparity (those were your very words); I
should not have dared to give way to—I should not have thought it
possible—But if you, who had been always acquainted with
him—”

“
Harriet!” cried Emma,
collecting herself resolutely. “Let us understand each other now,
without the possibility of farther mistake. Are you speaking of—Mr.
Knightley?”

“
To be sure I am. I never
could have an idea of any body else—and so I thought you knew. When
we talked about him, it was as clear as possible.”

“
Not quite,” returned Emma,
with forced calmness, “for all that you then said, appeared to me
to relate to a different person. I could almost assert that you had
named Mr. Frank Churchill. I am sure the service Mr. Frank
Churchill had rendered you, in protecting you from the gipsies, was
spoken of.”

“
Oh! Miss Woodhouse, how
you do forget!”

“
My dear Harriet, I
perfectly remember the substance of what I said on the occasion. I
told you that I did not wonder at your attachment; that considering
the service he had rendered you, it was extremely natural: and you
agreed to it, expressing yourself very warmly as to your sense of
that service, and mentioning even what your sensations had been in
seeing him come forward to your rescue. The impression of it is
strong on my memory.”

“
Oh, dear,” cried Harriet,
“now I recollect what you mean; but I was thinking of something
very different at the time. It was not the gipsies—it was not Mr.
Frank Churchill that I meant. No! (with some elevation) I was
thinking of a much more precious circumstance—of Mr. Knightley’s
coming and asking me to dance, when Mr. Elton would not stand up
with me; and when there was no other partner in the room. That was
the kind action; that was the noble benevolence and generosity;
that was the service which made me begin to feel how superior he
was to every other being upon earth.”

“
Goodness me!” cried Emma,
“this has been a most unfortunate—most deplorable mistake! What is
to be done?”

“
You would not have
encouraged me, then, if you had understood me? At least, however, I
cannot be worse off than I should have been, if the other had been
the person; and now—it is possible—”

She paused a few moments. Emma could not
speak.

“
I do not wonder, Miss
Woodhouse,” she resumed, “that you should feel a great difference
between the two, as to me or as to any body. You must think one
five hundred million times more above me than the other. But I
hope, Miss Woodhouse, that supposing—that if—strange as it may
appear—But you know they were your own words, that more wonderful
things had happened, matches of greater disparity had taken place
than between Mr. Frank Churchill and me; and, therefore, it seems
as if such a thing even as this, may have occurred before—and if I
should be so fortunate, beyond expression, as to—if Mr. Knightley
should really—if he does not mind the disparity, I hope, dear Miss
Woodhouse, you will not set yourself against it, and try to put
difficulties in the way. But you are too good for that, I am
sure.”