Chapter X

Em m a, on reaching hom e, called the housekeeper directly, to an exam ination of her stores; and som e arrowroot of very superior quality was speedily despatched to Miss Bates with a m ost friendly note. In half an hour the arrowroot was returned, with a thousand thanks from Miss Bates, but “dear Jane would not be satisfied without its being sent back; it was a thing she could not take

– and, m oreover, she insisted on her say ing, that she was not at all in want of any thing.”

When Em m a afterwards heard that Jane Fairfax had been seen wandering about the m eadows, at som e distance from Highbury, on the afternoon of the very day on which she had, under the plea of being unequal to any exercise, so perem ptorily refused to go out with her in the carriage, she could have no doubt – putting every thing together – that Jane was resolved to receive no kindness from her. She was sorry, very sorry. Her heart was grieved for a state which seem ed but the m ore pitiable from this sort of irritation of spirits, inconsistency of action, and inequality of powers; and it m ortified her that she was given so little credit for proper feeling, or esteem ed so little worthy as a friend: but she had the consolation of knowing that her intentions were good, and of being able to say to herself, that could Mr. Knightley have been privy to all her attem pts of assisting Jane Fairfax, could he even have seen into her heart, he would not, on this occasion, have found any thing to reprove.

CHAPTER X

One m orning, about ten day s after Mrs. Churchill’s decease, Em m a was called downstairs to Mr. Weston, who “could not stay five m inutes, and wanted particularly to speak with her.” – He m et her at the parlour-door, and hardly asking her how she did, in the natural key of his voice, sunk it im m ediately, to say, unheard by her father, “Can y ou com e to Randalls at any tim e this m orning? – Do, if it be possible. Mrs. Weston wants to see y ou. She m ust see y ou.”

“Is she unwell?”

“No, no, not at all – only a little agitated. She would have ordered the carriage, and com e to y ou, but she m ust see y ou alone, and that y ou know –

(nodding towards her father) – Hum ph! – Can y ou com e?”

“Certainly. This m om ent, if y ou please. It is im possible to refuse what y ou ask in such a way. But what can be the m atter? – Is she really not ill?”

“Depend upon m e – but ask no m ore questions. You will know it all in tim e. The m ost unaccountable business! But hush, hush!”

To guess what all this m eant, was im possible even for Em m a.

Som ething really im portant seem ed announced by his looks; but, as her friend was well, she endeavoured not to be uneasy, and settling it with her father, that she would take her walk now, she and Mr. Weston were soon out of the house together and on their way at a quick pace for Randalls.

“Now,” – said Em m a, when they were fairly bey ond the sweep gates,

– “now Mr. Weston, do let m e know what has happened.”

“No, no,” – he gravely replied. – “Don’t ask m e. I prom ised m y wife to leave it all to her. She will break it to y ou better than I can. Do not be im patient, Em m a; it will all com e out too soon.”

“Break it to m e,” cried Em m a, standing still with terror. – “Good God! –

Mr. Weston, tell m e at once. – Som ething has happened in Brunswick Square. I know it has. Tell m e, I charge y ou tell m e this m om ent what it is.”

“No, indeed y ou are m istaken.” –

“Mr. Weston do not trifle with m e. – Consider how m any of m y dearest friends are now in Brunswick Square. Which of them is it? – I charge y ou by all that is sacred, not to attem pt concealm ent.”

“Upon m y word, Em m a.” –

“Your word! – why not y our honour! – why not say upon y our honour, that it has nothing to do with any of them ? Good Heavens! – What can be to be broke to m e, that does not relate to one of that fam ily ?”

“Upon m y honour,” said he very seriously, “it does not. It is not in the sm allest degree connected with any hum an being of the nam e of Knightley.”

Em m a’s courage returned, and she walked on.

“I was wrong,” he continued, “in talking of its being broke to y ou. I should not have used the expression. In fact, it does not concern y ou – it concerns only m y self, – that is, we hope. – Hum ph! – In short, m y dear Em m a, there is no occasion to be so uneasy about it. I don’t say that it is not a disagreeable business

– but things m ight be m uch worse. – If we walk fast, we shall soon be at Randalls.”

Em m a found that she m ust wait; and now it required little effort. She asked no m ore questions therefore, m erely em ploy ed her own fancy, and that soon pointed out to her the probability of its being som e m oney concern –

som ething j ust com e to light, of a disagreeable nature in the circum stances of the fam ily, – som ething which the late event at Richm ond had brought forward. Her fancy was very active. Half a dozen natural children, perhaps – and poor Frank cut off! – This, though very undesirable, would be no m atter of agony to her. It inspired little m ore than an anim ating curiosity.

“Who is that gentlem an on horseback?” said she, as they proceeded –

speaking m ore to assist Mr. Weston in keeping his secret, than with any other view.

“I do not know. – One of the Otway s. – Not Frank; – it is not Frank, I assure y ou. You will not see him . He is half way to Windsor by this tim e.”

“Has y our son been with y ou, then?”

“Oh! y es – did not y ou know? – Well, well, never m ind.”

For a m om ent he was silent; and then added, in a tone m uch m ore guarded and dem ure,

“Yes, Frank cam e over this m orning, j ust to ask us how we did.”

They hurried on, and were speedily at Randalls. – “Well, m y dear,”

said he, as they entered the room – “I have brought her, and now I hope y ou will soon be better. I shall leave y ou together. There is no use in delay. I shall not be far off, if y ou want m e.” – And Em m a distinctly heard him add, in a lower tone, before he quitted the room , – “I have been as good as m y word. She has not the

least idea.”

Mrs. Weston was looking so ill, and had an air of so m uch perturbation, that Em m a’s uneasiness increased; and the m om ent they were alone, she eagerly said, “What is it m y dear friend? Som ething of a very unpleasant nature, I find, has occurred; – do let m e know directly what it is. I have been walking all this way in com plete suspense. We both abhor suspense. Do not let m ine continue longer. It will do y ou good to speak of y our distress, whatever it m ay be.”

“Have y ou indeed no idea?” said Mrs. Weston in a trem bling voice.

“Cannot y ou, m y dear Em m a – cannot y ou form a guess as to what y ou are to hear?”

“So far as that it relates to Mr. Frank Churchill, I do guess.”

“You are right. It does relate to him , and I will tell y ou directly ;”

(resum ing her work, and seem ing resolved against looking up.) “He has been here this very m orning, on a m ost extraordinary errand. It is im possible to express our surprize. He cam e to speak to his father on a subj ect, – to announce an attachm ent – “

She stopped to breathe. Em m a thought first of herself, and then of Harriet.

“More than an attachm ent, indeed,” resum ed Mrs. Weston; “an engagem ent – a positive engagem ent. – What will y ou say, Em m a – what will any body say, when it is known that Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax are engaged; – nay, that they have been long engaged!”

Em m a even j um ped with surprize; – and, horror-struck, exclaim ed,

“Jane Fairfax! – Good God! You are not serious? You do not m ean it?”

“You m ay well be am azed,” returned Mrs. Weston, still averting her ey es, and talking on with eagerness, that Em m a m ight have tim e to recover –

“You m ay well be am azed. But it is even so. There has been a solem n engagem ent between them ever since October – form ed at Wey m outh, and kept a secret from every body. Not a creature knowing it but them selves – neither the Cam pbells, nor her fam ily, nor his. – It is so wonderful, that though perfectly convinced of the fact, it is y et alm ost incredible to m y self. I can hardly believe it.

– I thought I knew him .”

Em m a scarcely heard what was said. – Her m ind was divided between two ideas – her own form er conversations with him about Miss Fairfax; and poor

Harriet; – and for som e tim e she could only exclaim , and require confirm ation, repeated confirm ation.

“Well,” said she at last, try ing to recover herself; “this is a circum stance which I m ust think of at least half a day, before I can at all com prehend it. What!

– engaged to her all the winter – before either of them cam e to Highbury ?”

“Engaged since October, – secretly engaged. – It has hurt m e, Em m a, very m uch. It has hurt his father equally. Som e part of his conduct we cannot excuse.”

Em m a pondered a m om ent, and then replied, “I will not pretend not to understand y ou; and to give y ou all the relief in m y power, be assured that no such effect has followed his attentions to m e, as y ou are apprehensive of.”

Mrs. Weston looked up, afraid to believe; but Em m a’s countenance was as steady as her words.

“That y ou m ay have less difficulty in believing this boast, of m y present perfect indifference,” she continued, “I will farther tell y ou, that there was a period in the early part of our acquaintance, when I did like him , when I was very m uch disposed to be attached to him – nay, was attached – and how it cam e to cease, is perhaps the wonder. Fortunately, however, it did cease. I have really for som e tim e past, for at least these three m onths, cared nothing about him . You m ay believe m e, Mrs. Weston. This is the sim ple truth.”

Mrs. Weston kissed her with tears of j oy ; and when she could find utterance, assured her, that this protestation had done her m ore good than any thing else in the world could do.

“Mr. Weston will be alm ost as m uch relieved as m y self,” said she. “On this point we have been wretched. It was our darling wish that y ou m ight be attached to each other – and we were persuaded that it was so. – Im agine what we have been feeling on y our account.”

“I have escaped; and that I should escape, m ay be a m atter of grateful wonder to y ou and m y self. But this does not acquit him , Mrs. Weston; and I m ust say, that I think him greatly to blam e. What right had he to com e am ong us with affection and faith engaged, and with m anners so very disengaged? What right had he to endeavour to please, as he certainly did – to distinguish any one y oung wom an with persevering attention, as he certainly did – while he really belonged to another? – How could he tell what m ischief he m ight be doing? – How could he tell that he m ight not be m aking m e in love with him ? – very wrong, very wrong indeed.”

“From som ething that he said, m y dear Em m a, I rather im agine – “

“And how could she bear such behaviour! Com posure with a witness! to look on, while repeated attentions were offering to another wom an, before her face, and not resent it. – That is a degree of placidity, which I can neither com prehend nor respect.”

“There were m isunderstandings between them , Em m a; he said so expressly. He had not tim e to enter into m uch explanation. He was here only a quarter of an hour, and in a state of agitation which did not allow the full use even of the tim e he could stay – but that there had been m isunderstandings he decidedly said. The present crisis, indeed, seem ed to be brought on by them ; and those m isunderstandings m ight very possibly arise from the im propriety of his conduct.”

“Im propriety ! Oh! Mrs. Weston – it is too calm a censure. Much, m uch bey ond im propriety ! – It has sunk him , I cannot say how it has sunk him in m y opinion. So unlike what a m an should be! – None of that upright integrity, that strict adherence to truth and principle, that disdain of trick and littleness, which a m an should display in every transaction of his life.”

“Nay, dear Em m a, now I m ust take his part; for though he has been wrong in this instance, I have known him long enough to answer for his having m any, very m any, good qualities; and – “

“Good God!” cried Em m a, not attending to her. – “Mrs. Sm allridge, too! Jane actually on the point of going as governess! What could he m ean by such horrible indelicacy ? To suffer her to engage herself – to suffer her even to think of such a m easure!”

“He knew nothing about it, Em m a. On this article I can fully acquit him .

It was a private resolution of hers, not com m unicated to him – or at least not com m unicated in a way to carry conviction. – Till y esterday, I know he said he was in the dark as to her plans. They burst on him , I do not know how, but by som e letter or m essage – and it was the discovery of what she was doing, of this very proj ect of hers, which determ ined him to com e forward at once, own it all to his uncle, throw him self on his kindness, and, in short, put an end to the m iserable state of concealm ent that had been carry ing on so long.”

Em m a began to listen better.

“I am to hear from him soon,” continued Mrs. Weston. “He told m e at parting, that he should soon write; and he spoke in a m anner which seem ed to prom ise m e m any particulars that could not be given now. Let us wait, therefore, for this letter. It m ay bring m any extenuations. It m ay m ake m any things

intelligible and excusable which now are not to be understood. Don’t let us be severe, don’t let us be in a hurry to condem n him . Let us have patience. I m ust love him ; and now that I am satisfied on one point, the one m aterial point, I am sincerely anxious for its all turning out well, and ready to hope that it m ay. They m ust both have suffered a great deal under such a sy stem of secresy and concealm ent.”

“His sufferings,” replied Em m a dry ly, “do not appear to have done him m uch harm . Well, and how did Mr. Churchill take it?”

“Most favourably for his nephew – gave his consent with scarcely a difficulty. Conceive what the events of a week have done in that fam ily ! While poor Mrs. Churchill lived, I suppose there could not have been a hope, a chance, a possibility ; – but scarcely are her rem ains at rest in the fam ily vault, than her husband is persuaded to act exactly opposite to what she would have required.

What a blessing it is, when undue influence does not survive the grave! – He gave his consent with very little persuasion.”

“Ah!” thought Em m a, “he would have done as m uch for Harriet.”

“This was settled last night, and Frank was off with the light this m orning. He stopped at Highbury, at the Bates’s, I fancy, som e tim e – and then cam e on hither; but was in such a hurry to get back to his uncle, to whom he is j ust now m ore necessary than ever, that, as I tell y ou, he could stay with us but a quarter of an hour. – He was very m uch agitated – very m uch, indeed – to a degree that m ade him appear quite a different creature from any thing I had ever seen him before. – In addition to all the rest, there had been the shock of finding her so very unwell, which he had had no previous suspicion of – and there was every appearance of his having been feeling a great deal.”

“And do y ou really believe the affair to have been carry ing on with such perfect secresy ? – The Cam pbells, the Dixons, did none of them know of the engagem ent?”

Em m a could not speak the nam e of Dixon without a little blush.

“None; not one. He positively said that it had been known to no being in the world but their two selves.”

“Well,” said Em m a, “I suppose we shall gradually grow reconciled to the idea, and I wish them very happy. But I shall alway s think it a very abom inable sort of proceeding. What has it been but a sy stem of hy pocrisy and deceit, – espionage, and treachery ? – To com e am ong us with professions of openness and sim plicity ; and such a league in secret to j udge us all! – Here have we been, the whole winter and spring, com pletely duped, fancy ing ourselves all

on an equal footing of truth and honour, with two people in the m idst of us who m ay have been carry ing round, com paring and sitting in j udgm ent on sentim ents and words that were never m eant for both to hear. – They m ust take the consequence, if they have heard each other spoken of in a way not perfectly agreeable!”

“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 m ight not have heard.”

“You are in luck. – Your only blunder was confined to m y ear, when y ou im agined a certain friend of ours in love with the lady.”

“True. But as I have alway s 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 m ust have been safe.”

At this m om ent 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 com ing round, added, “Now, dearest Em m a, let m e intreat y ou to say and look every thing that m ay set his heart at ease, and incline him to be satisfied with the m atch. Let us m ake the best of it – and, indeed, alm ost every thing m ay 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 m ay be a very fortunate circum stance for him , for Frank, I m ean, that he should have attached him self to a girl of such steadiness of character and good j udgm ent as I have alway s 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 m uch m ay be said in her situation for even that error!”

“Much, indeed!” cried Em m a feelingly. “If a wom an can ever be excused for thinking only of herself, it is in a situation like Jane Fairfax’s. – Of such, one m ay alm ost say, that ‘the world is not their’s, nor the world’s law.’”

She m et Mr. Weston on his entrance, with a sm iling countenance, exclaim ing,

“A very pretty trick y ou have been play ing m e, upon m y word! This was a device, I suppose, to sport with m y curiosity, and exercise m y talent of guessing. But y ou really frightened m e. I thought y ou had lost half y our property, at least. And here, instead of its being a m atter of condolence, it turns out to be one of congratulation. – I congratulate y ou, Mr. Weston, with all m y heart, on the prospect of having one of the m ost lovely and accom plished y oung wom en in England for y our daughter.”

A glance or two between him and his wife, convinced him that all was as right as this speech proclaim ed; and its happy effect on his spirits was im m ediate. His air and voice recovered their usual briskness: he shook her heartily and gratefully by the hand, and entered on the subj ect in a m anner to prove, that he now only wanted tim e and persuasion to think the engagem ent no very bad thing. His com panions suggested only what could palliate im prudence, or sm ooth obj ections; and by the tim e they had talked it all over together, and he had talked it all over again with Em m a, in their walk back to Hartfield, he was becom e perfectly reconciled, and not far from thinking it the very best thing that Frank could possibly have done.