Chapter XIV

Som e change of countenance was necessary for each gentlem an as they walked into Mrs. Weston’s drawing-room ; – Mr. Elton m ust com pose his j oy ous looks, and Mr. John Knightley disperse his ill-hum our. Mr. Elton m ust sm ile less, and Mr. John Knightley m ore, to fit them for the place. – Em m a only m ight be as nature prom pted, and shew herself j ust as happy as she was. To her it was real enj oy m ent to be with the Westons. Mr. Weston was a great favourite, and there was not a creature in the world to whom she spoke with such unreserve, as to his wife; not any one, to whom she related with such conviction of being listened to and understood, of being alway s interesting and alway s intelligible, the little affairs, arrangem ents, perplexities, and pleasures of her father and herself.

She could tell nothing of Hartfield, in which Mrs. Weston had not a lively concern; and half an hour’s uninterrupted com m unication of all those little m atters on which the daily happiness of private life depends, was one of the first gratifications of each.

This was a pleasure which perhaps the whole day ’s visit m ight not afford, which certainly did not belong to the present half-hour; but the very sight of Mrs. Weston, her sm ile, her touch, her voice was grateful to Em m a, and she determ ined to think as little as possible of Mr. Elton’s oddities, or of any thing else unpleasant, and enj oy all that was enj oy able to the utm ost.

The m isfortune of Harriet’s cold had been pretty well gone through before her arrival. Mr. Woodhouse had been safely seated long enough to give the history of it, besides all the history of his own and Isabella’s com ing, and of Em m a’s being to follow, and had indeed j ust got to the end of his satisfaction that Jam es should com e and see his daughter, when the others appeared, and Mrs.

Weston, who had been alm ost wholly engrossed by her attentions to him , was able to turn away and welcom e her dear Em m a.

Em m a’s proj ect of forgetting Mr. Elton for a while m ade her rather sorry to find, when they had all taken their places, that he was close to her. The difficulty was great of driving his strange insensibility towards Harriet, from her m ind, while he not only sat at her elbow, but was continually obtruding his happy countenance on her notice, and solicitously addressing her upon every occasion.

Instead of forgetting him , his behaviour was such that she could not avoid the internal suggestion of “Can it really be as m y brother im agined? can it be possible for this m an to be beginning to transfer his affections from Harriet to m e? –

Absurd and insufferable!” – Yet he would be so anxious for her being perfectly warm , would be so interested about her father, and so delighted with Mrs. Weston; and at last would begin adm iring her drawings with so m uch zeal and so little

knowledge as seem ed terribly like a would-be lover, and m ade it som e effort with her to preserve her good m anners. For her own sake she could not be rude; and for Harriet’s, in the hope that all would y et turn out right, she was even positively civil; but it was an effort; especially as som ething was going on am ongst the others, in the m ost overpowering period of Mr. Elton’s nonsense, which she particularly wished to listen to. She heard enough to know that Mr. Weston was giving som e inform ation about his son; she heard the words “m y son,” and

“Frank,” and “m y son,” repeated several tim es over; and, from a few other half-sy llables very m uch suspected that he was announcing an early visit from his son; but before she could quiet Mr. Elton, the subj ect was so com pletely past that any reviving question from her would have been awkward.

Now, it so happened that in spite of Em m a’s resolution of never m arry ing, there was som ething in the nam e, in the idea of Mr. Frank Churchill, which alway s interested her. She had frequently thought – especially since his father’s m arriage with Miss Tay lor – that if she were to m arry, he was the very person to suit her in age, character and condition. He seem ed by this connexion between the fam ilies, quite to belong to her. She could not but suppose it to be a m atch that every body who knew them m ust think of. That Mr. and Mrs. Weston did think of it, she was very strongly persuaded; and though not m eaning to be induced by him , or by any body else, to give up a situation which she believed m ore replete with good than any she could change it for, she had a great curiosity to see him , a decided intention of finding him pleasant, of being liked by him to a certain degree, and a sort of pleasure in the idea of their being coupled in their friends’ im aginations.

With such sensations, Mr. Elton’s civilities were dreadfully ill-tim ed; but she had the com fort of appearing very polite, while feeling very cross – and of thinking that the rest of the visit could not possibly pass without bringing forward the sam e inform ation again, or the substance of it, from the open-hearted Mr.

Weston. – So it proved; – for when happily released from Mr. Elton, and seated by Mr. Weston, at dinner, he m ade use of the very first interval in the cares of hospitality, the very first leisure from the saddle of m utton, to say to her,

“We want only two m ore to be j ust the right num ber. I should like to see two m ore here, – y our pretty little friend, Miss Sm ith, and m y son – and then I should say we were quite com plete. I believe y ou did not hear m e telling the others in the drawing-room that we are expecting Frank. I had a letter from him this m orning, and he will be with us within a fortnight.”

Em m a spoke with a very proper degree of pleasure; and fully assented to his proposition of Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Sm ith m aking their party quite com plete.

“He has been wanting to com e to us,” continued Mr. Weston, “ever since Septem ber: every letter has been full of it; but he cannot com m and his own tim e. He has those to please who m ust be pleased, and who (between ourselves) are som etim es to be pleased only by a good m any sacrifices. But now I have no doubt of seeing him here about the second week in January.”

“What a very great pleasure it will be to y ou! and Mrs. Weston is so anxious to be acquainted with him , that she m ust be alm ost as happy as y ourself.”

“Yes, she would be, but that she thinks there will be another put-off. She does not depend upon his com ing so m uch as I do: but she does not know the parties so well as I do. The case, y ou see, is – (but this is quite between ourselves: I did not m ention a sy llable of it in the other room . There are secrets in all fam ilies, y ou know) – The case is, that a party of friends are invited to pay a visit at Enscom be in January ; and that Frank’s com ing depends upon their being put off. If they are not put off, he cannot stir. But I know they will, because it is a fam ily that a certain lady, of som e consequence, at Enscom be, has a particular dislike to: and though it is thought necessary to invite them once in two or three y ears, they alway s are put off when it com es to the point. I have not the sm allest doubt of the issue. I am as confident of seeing Frank here before the m iddle of January, as I am of being here m y self: but y our good friend there (nodding towards the upper end of the table) has so few vagaries herself, and has been so little used to them at Hartfield, that she cannot calculate on their effects, as I have been long in the practice of doing.”

“I am sorry there should be any thing like doubt in the case,” replied Em m a; “but am disposed to side with y ou, Mr. Weston. If y ou think he will com e, I shall think so too; for y ou know Enscom be.”

“Yes – I have som e right to that knowledge; though I have never been at the place in m y life. – She is an odd wom an! – But I never allow m y self to speak ill of her, on Frank’s account; for I do believe her to be very fond of him . I used to think she was not capable of being fond of any body, except herself: but she has alway s been kind to him (in her way – allowing for little whim s and caprices, and expecting every thing to be as she likes). And it is no sm all credit, in m y opinion, to him , that he should excite such an affection; for, though I would not say it to any body else, she has no m ore heart than a stone to people in general; and the devil of a tem per.”

Em m a liked the subj ect so well, that she began upon it, to Mrs. Weston, very soon after their m oving into the drawing-room : wishing her j oy – y et observing, that she knew the first m eeting m ust be rather alarm ing. – Mrs. Weston agreed to it; but added, that she should be very glad to be secure of undergoing

the anxiety of a first m eeting at the tim e talked of: “for I cannot depend upon his com ing. I cannot be so sanguine as Mr. Weston. I am very m uch afraid that it will all end in nothing. Mr. Weston, I dare say, has been telling y ou exactly how the m atter stands?”

“Yes – it seem s to depend upon nothing but the ill-hum our of Mrs.

Churchill, which I im agine to be the m ost certain thing in the world.”

“My Em m a!” replied Mrs. Weston, sm iling, “what is the certainty of caprice?” Then turning to Isabella, who had not been attending before – “You m ust know, m y dear Mrs. Knightley, that we are by no m eans so sure of seeing Mr. Frank Churchill, in m y opinion, as his father thinks. It depends entirely upon his aunt’s spirits and pleasure; in short, upon her tem per. To y ou – to m y two daughters – I m ay venture on the truth. Mrs. Churchill rules at Enscom be, and is a very odd-tem pered wom an; and his com ing now, depends upon her being willing to spare him .”

“Oh, Mrs. Churchill; every body knows Mrs. Churchill,” replied Isabella: “and I am sure I never think of that poor y oung m an without the greatest com passion. To be constantly living with an ill-tem pered person, m ust be dreadful. It is what we happily have never known any thing of; but it m ust be a life of m isery. What a blessing, that she never had any children! Poor little creatures, how unhappy she would have m ade them !”

Em m a wished she had been alone with Mrs. Weston. She should then have heard m ore: Mrs. Weston would speak to her, with a degree of unreserve which she would not hazard with Isabella; and, she really believed, would scarcely try to conceal any thing relative to the Churchills from her, excepting those views on the y oung m an, of which her own im agination had already given her such instinctive knowledge. But at present there was nothing m ore to be said.

Mr. Woodhouse very soon followed them into the drawing-room . To be sitting long after dinner, was a confinem ent that he could not endure. Neither wine nor conversation was any thing to him ; and gladly did he m ove to those with whom he was alway s com fortable.

While he talked to Isabella, however, Em m a found an opportunity of say ing,

“And so y ou do not consider this visit from y our son as by any m eans certain. I am sorry for it. The introduction m ust be unpleasant, whenever it takes place; and the sooner it could be over, the better.”

“Yes; and every delay m akes one m ore apprehensive of other delay s.

Even if this fam ily, the Braithwaites, are put off, I am still afraid that som e

excuse m ay be found for disappointing us. I cannot bear to im agine any reluctance on his side; but I am sure there is a great wish on the Churchills’ to keep him to them selves. There is j ealousy. They are j ealous even of his regard for his father. In short, I can feel no dependence on his com ing, and I wish Mr. Weston were less sanguine.”

“He ought to com e,” said Em m a. “If he could stay only a couple of day s, he ought to com e; and one can hardly conceive a y oung m an’s not having it in his power to do as m uch as that. A y oung wom an, if she fall into bad hands, m ay be teased, and kept at a distance from those she wants to be with; but one cannot com prehend a y oung m an’s being under such restraint, as not to be able to spend a week with his father, if he likes it.”