Mr Knightley's Diary Part 7

'I see her purpose! She wanted him to spend the evening thinking of her little friend, and perhaps calling in at Mrs G.o.ddard's to ask after Miss Smith, instead of dining at Randalls.'

'I thought you said that Elton was in love with Emma, not Harriet?' asked John with a frown.

'Not in love. I said his ambition tended in that direction. But they are at cross-purposes. Emma's ambitions are in a different quarter. She thinks that he will marry her friend.'

'What! The parlour boarder?'

'Yes.'

'Has Emma taken leave of her senses?' he asked.

'The girl is pretty.'

'And so are a hundred other girls. He has only to go to Brighton, or Bath, to find plenty of well-born, pretty young ladies with a handsome dowry, who would not turn down a handsome vicar.'

I brought him back to the point, asking if he had warned Emma, and learning that he had.

'And what did she reply?' I asked.

'That I was mistaken. That she and Mr Elton were friends and nothing more.'

'Foolish girl! Well, she has been warned. If he proposes now, at least it will not take her entirely by surprise.'

'He will not get a chance tonight,' John said. 'I have offered to take him in my carriage. And once at the Westons he will get no time alone with her.'

I was rea.s.sured. Even so, I had followed Emma's progress with such interest, for so many years, that I was curious to know what the evening would bring.

When I arrived, the first party from Hartfield was already there. Isabella and Mr Woodhouse were sitting by the fire, waiting for Emma, Elton and John.

Emma's party soon followed, and Emma greeted Mrs Weston fondly. I have always been glad of the affection they share.

Emma took a seat, and Mr Elton sat next to her. He was very solicitous, asking her if she was warm enough, asking if her father were comfortable, and crowning it by calling attention to some of her drawings, which hung in Mrs Weston's drawing-room.

'Remarkable,' he said. 'Such a way with line. Quite exquisite. You are fortunate to have them, Mrs Weston.'

Mrs Weston agreed, but Emma looked uncomfortable. I guessed that Elton's flattery was not to her taste. Either that, or my brother's caution had given her pause, and she was now considering whether he could be right, and whether Mr Elton's object could be herself.

She did not have long to think of it, however, for the subject of Frank Churchill was soon raised.

'We want only two more to be just the right number. I should like to see two more here, your pretty little friend, Harriet, and my son, and then I should say we were quite complete,' said Weston. 'I believe you did not hear me telling the others in the drawing-room that we are expecting Frank?' he went on, growing expansive as he addressed Emma. 'I had a letter from him this morning, and he will be with us within a fortnight.'

'Oh, yes, that would be perfect,' said Emma with genuine enthusiasm.

She, along with the rest of Highbury, has long been wondering about Frank Churchill.

'He has been wanting to come to us, ever since September,' said Weston, 'but he cannot command his own time. He has those to please who must be pleased, and who (between ourselves) are sometimes to be pleased only by a good many sacrifices. But now I have no doubt of seeing him here about the second week in January.'

Emma spoke of his son at length to Weston. She could not say too much to please him.

After dinner the ladies withdrew, and Mr Woodhouse went with them. He has no interest in business or politics, and sees his attendance as a compliment to the ladies.

When they had departed, we talked of the parish and the war, our farming troubles and our hopes for the coming year. Weston was convivial, resisting any effort to break up the gentlemen by pa.s.sing the port again. He liked nothing better than to have a group of friends round his table.

I saw Elton looking at the clock once or twice, but otherwise he bore his separation from the ladies well. At last, Weston could delay us no longer, and we left our seats.

'I am going to take a walk,' said John, as we left the dining-room. 'I need some fresh air after Weston's good food. Do you care to join me?'

'No, thank you,' I said.

Truth to tell, I wanted to see how Emma got on with Elton.

The other gentlemen demurred, and John set out.

On arriving in the drawing-room, I was not surprised to see Elton making for Emma, and, with scarcely an invitation, he seated himself between her and Mrs Weston. He began to speak of Harriet at once, saying he hoped that Emma would not risk catching a cold from her friend.

Really, he was as bad as her father, with his talk of colds! She quickly gew weary of his attentions, and I became sure of one thing: she was finally convinced that she was his object, and not Harriet. No matter how many times she tried to turn the conversation back to her friend, he would not have it. Everything he said was about her.

'So scrupulous for others,' said Elton to Mrs Weston, 'and yet so careless for herself! She wanted me to nurse my cold by staying at home today, and yet will not promise to avoid the danger of catching an ulcerated sore throat herself! Is this fair, Mrs Weston? Judge between us. Have not I some right to complain? I am sure of your kind support and aid.'

Mrs Weston looked astonished, as well she might. This was going beyond anything I had so far heard, and a.s.sumed an intimacy that plainly was not there. I wondered that Emma could endure it, though by her look she could not do so easily. I almost stepped in, but knowing her to be equal to Elton, I left her to fight the battle herself.

She turned on him a quelling look, and I did not know whether to pity them or laugh at them: Emma abusing her powers and creating a muddle where there had been none, and Elton, blinded by ambition, mistaking the matter so badly he was about to make an even bigger muddle than the one already made.

There was no time for any more of Elton's chivalry, however, as John returned from his walk. He came in, rubbing his hands and speaking briskly, breaking like a whirlwind into the room.

'This will prove a spirited beginning of your winter engagements, sir,' he said to Mr Woodhouse heartily. 'It will be something new for your coachman and horses to be making their way through a storm of snow.'

I wished he could have been less dramatic in his entrance. Mr Woodhouse was so distressed he was struck dumb, but a regular hubbub broke out from everyone else.

'Snow? I would not have thought it,' said Emma.

'No, indeed,' said Elton. 'Who could have guessed?'

'How deep is it?' asked Weston.

'Do you think it will lie?' asked Mrs Weston.

'I admired your resolution very much, sir, in venturing out in such weather,' continued John to Mr Woodhouse, 'for of course you saw there would be snow very soon. Everybody must have seen the snow coming on. I admired your spirit; and I dare say we shall get home very well. Another hour or two's snow can hardly make the road impa.s.sable; and we are two carriages; if one is blown over in the bleak part of the common field, there will be the other at hand. I dare say we shall be all safe at Hartfield before midnight.'

To him, the snow was a matter of novelty and excitement. There are times when he reminds me of his children! To Weston, too, it was a source of satisfaction, or at least the concealment of it was.

'I knew it was snowing all along,' said Weston. 'I saw it as I crossed the hall, but said nothing for fear of breaking up the party. I could see that it was nothing, a mere dusting, and nothing to worry about. There will be no difficulty in anyone getting home. A pity! I wish there would be, then you could all stay the night. We would love to have you, would we not, my dear?' he said to Mrs Weston.

She hardly knew how to look, and I was not surprised, as there are only two spare rooms at Randalls, and she had six guests.

'What is to be done, my dear, Emma? What is to be done?' said Mr Woodhouse, over and over again.

Leaving them to their worries, I went outside to judge the situation for myself. John had exaggerated. There was very little snow, nothing but a fine covering, and it was not likely to cause any difficulties in getting home. I went beyond the sweep, and walked some way along the Highbury Road to make sure, but it was nowhere more than half an inch deep, and in many places it was hardly there at all.

I looked up. A few flakes were falling, but the sky was clearing, and I felt it would soon abate. I spoke to James, and he agreed with me that there was nothing to worry about.

I returned to the drawing-room and set everyone's minds at ease, but Mr Woodhouse had been so worried that he did not recover.

'Your father will not be easy; why do not you go?' I said to Emma.

'I am ready, if the others are.'

'Shall I ring the bell?'

'Yes, do.'

I think she was not sorry to be leaving Elton. Once back at home, she would be free of his attentions.

Between us, we managed to soothe Mr Woodhouse until the carriage was brought round. I saw him to his carriage, and Isabella and he stepped in. I stood back, and John, forgetting that he had not come with his wife, followed her into the carriage. I was about to remonstrate with him, when the carriage pulled away.

What did it matter which carriage he took? I thought, until I remembered that Emma would now be left alone with Elton.

I was just about to suggest that I go with her, when I saw that both she and Elton had climbed into their carriage, and that it was already following the first up the drive.

I consoled myself with the thought that Elton was a gentleman. Though he had partaken freely of wine I did not fear for Emma's safety. But as to what he might say to her....

On reflection, I felt it was perhaps as well that things should come to a head. I could not stand to see him dancing attendance on her any longer, and the sooner she made her feelings plain to him the better.

I went back inside.

'So, we have lost the rest of the party,' said Mr Weston. 'You will stay awhile longer?' he asked me.

He was looking dejected at the sudden break-up of his party, and I agreed. The conversation turned once again to his son, and we spent an hour talking of Frank Churchill, Mr Weston's delight in being about to see him, and Mrs Weston's desire to meet her new stepson.

As we spoke, however, I could not help wondering what was taking place in the carriage.

'You seem tired,' said Mr Weston, noticing my abstraction at last.

'No,' I said, rousing myself.

'The children have been wearing you out,' said Mrs Weston with a smile.

I let her think it. It was better than have her worrying about Emma.

I left them at last, and, thanking them for a very enjoyable evening, I returned to the Abbey.

I took up a book, but it would not do.

What was Elton saying to Emma? What was she saying to him? And would I ever learn anything of it? I wondered.

Probably not. She had not admitted her mistake to me, and probably never would. But I should know by her manner if something had happened, even if she said nothing.

Friday 25 December When I woke up this morning, there was a brightness about my chamber, and I could tell at once that it had snowed heavily in the night. On pulling back the curtains, I saw that a blanket of snow lay over everything. The gardens were thick with it, and the meadows beyond, and the drive was covered so effectively that I knew there would be no travelling by carriage today.

I walked out before breakfast, enjoying the briskness of the exercise and the crispness of the air, then returned to a hot meal before setting off for church. I did not expect to find the Hartfield party there, but one or two hardy souls had braved the walk. Graham was there, with his sister.

Mr Longridge was there, also. He told me that he had looked in on the Bateses on his way, and had found them both well. They had had a good fire, he told me, and the smell of cooking had been coming from the kitchen.

'Miss Bates would have come to church--I offered her my arm--but she would not leave her mother. A wonderful woman, Mr Knightley,' he said. 'Always thinking of others, and never of herself. And always interested in the world around her. My wife was another such woman. I was busy with business, but I never minded, because my wife always brought the world to me. I knew what our friends were doing, because she told me. And now that I sit by myself, my business days being behind me, I like to hear a woman's voice telling me all the news again.'

I thought how kind he was, and I was pleased he had entered into our ways already. It was very good of him to look in on Miss Bates, and to say how agreeable he found her chatter.

Miss Nash was there, and I took the opportunity of asking her how Harriet did.

'Very poorly, thank you for asking,' she said. 'The poor girl has a shocking cold and a sore throat. She has kept to her bed since returning from Hartfield, and will not be out of it for several days.'

The service began, and I thought Elton looked subdued, though it could have been my imagination, for afterwards, Miss Nash said she thought the service had been particularly good, and Mr Longridge declared it the best service he had been to for a long time. He left me with the intention of calling on the Bateses on his way home, so that he could tell them all about it.

I walked to Hartfield, and found the family indoors. Mr Woodhouse had recovered from his shock of the night before, and was sitting by the fire with Isabella, the baby on his knee. Little Emma was looking placid and contented.

Her namesake, my Emma, was playing with the other children. She looked up as I entered the room, but she could not meet my eye.

So! Elton had spoken, I thought, but I did not plague her by mentioning it.

Mr Woodhouse was shocked that I had walked over to Hartfield in all the snow, and he was even more alarmed when I said that I had been to church. Isabella asked about the service, but Emma made no enquiries. Instead, she became absorbed in Henry's blocks, and did not look up until the conversation had moved on to other things.

John was cheerful, having worked off his ill-humour yesterday evening, and was enjoying his children. Despite Mr Woodhouse's protests, he ordered Henry and John wrapped up warmly, then he and I took them out into the garden. They delighted in walking through the snow, trying to step in our footsteps.

When we returned to the house, we exchanged presents, and I enjoyed seeing Emma's face when she unwrapped the gloves I had bought her. I rejoiced in her present to me, a pen-wiper, which was to replace the one she made for me ten years ago.

'It is much better made than the last one,' I remarked.

She smiled, and said she hoped so.

Her spirits improved as she watched the children unwrapping their presents, and then she encouraged them to sing for me. They had already sung for the others. To begin with, the children stood mute before us, Henry and John looking bashful, Bella giggling and George trying to do what his brothers and sister did. Isabella gave them encouragement, and Henry began to sing. The others, emboldened, joined in with: Rejoice our Saviour he was born On Christmas day in the morning Or so I took the words to be, for they came out with a lisp and a stutter that was perfectly charming. Their efforts were heartily praised, and each was rewarded with an orange.

After dinner, when the children were in bed, Emma suggested we play at bullet pudding. John declared that he was too old for such a game, but when the mound of flour was brought in, with the bullet set on top of it, he joined in with as much enthusiasm as anyone. Isabella was the first to let it fall, and when she had retrieved it with her teeth, her face was covered completely in flour. She looked such a strange sight that we all burst out laughing, and Isabella had to wipe her face quickly for fear of the flour choking her if she started to laugh, too.

John was next to let it fall, by cutting the flour too finely, and when he emerged with the bullet held triumphantly between his teeth, his face was worse than his wife's had been. Emma was the next to let the bullet fall, and Mr Woodhouse worried about her until she had restored the bullet to its place at the top of the shrinking pyramid and wiped her face clean. I, too, came in for my share of flour, and ended up with a great deal on my coat as well as my face.

Our evening did not end there. Emma played the pianoforte and we sang carols, and then Isabella played and Emma and I had an impromptu dance. It ended only when she declared her sister must have her share of the fun, and she sat down at the pianoforte herself.

So ended a very enjoyable Christmas Day. Mr Woodhouse entreated me to stay the night, rather than face the walk home, but I would not be persuaded.

As I walked home through the freezing night, I felt I had never liked a day more in my life.

Sat.u.r.day 26 December Another snowy day. I walked over to Hartfield and spent it with my family. A cheerful sight met my eyes as I arrived. John was in the grounds with John and Henry. The boys were wrapped up warmly and were running about.

We went into the house together. The smell of spices lingered on the air, and the fires sent it round the house.

Emma seemed in better spirits, and before long we were playing hunt-the-slipper with the children. Isabella was as pleased as could be, playing with her children, and John joined in.

He is a lucky man to have five such fine sons and daughters. I thought again of my hope to marry, and I was sorry that I had not managed to find a suitable wife.