Chapter V

How that visit was to be acknowledged – what would be necessary –

and what m ight be safest, had been a point of som e doubtful consideration.

Absolute neglect of the m other and sisters, when invited to com e, would be

ingratitude. It m ust not be: and y et the danger of a renewal of the acquaintance –

!

After m uch thinking, she could determ ine on nothing better, than Harriet’s returning the visit; but in a way that, if they had understanding, should convince them that it was to be only a form al acquaintance. She m eant to take her in the carriage, leave her at the Abbey Mill, while she drove a little farther, and call for her again so soon, as to allow no tim e for insidious applications or dangerous recurrences to the past, and give the m ost decided proof of what degree of intim acy was chosen for the future.

She could think of nothing better: and though there was som ething in it which her own heart could not approve – som ething of ingratitude, m erely glossed over – it m ust be done, or what would becom e of Harriet?

CHAPTER V

Sm all heart had Harriet for visiting. Only half an hour before her friend called for her at Mrs. Goddard’s, her evil stars had led her to the very spot where, at that m om ent, a trunk, directed to The Rev. Philip Elton, White-Hart, Bath, was to be seen under the operation of being lifted into the butcher’s cart, which was to convey it to where the coaches past; and every thing in this world, excepting that trunk and the direction, was consequently a blank.

She went, however; and when they reached the farm , and she was to be put down, at the end of the broad, neat gravel walk, which led between espalier apple-trees to the front door, the sight of every thing which had given her so m uch pleasure the autum n before, was beginning to revive a little local agitation; and when they parted, Em m a observed her to be looking around with a sort of fearful curiosity, which determ ined her not to allow the visit to exceed the proposed quarter of an hour. She went on herself, to give that portion of tim e to an old servant who was m arried, and settled in Donwell.

The quarter of an hour brought her punctually to the white gate again; and Miss Sm ith receiving her sum m ons, was with her without delay, and unattended by any alarm ing y oung m an. She cam e solitarily down the gravel walk – a Miss Martin j ust appearing at the door, and parting with her seem ingly with cerem onious civility.

Harriet could not very soon give an intelligible account. She was feeling too m uch; but at last Em m a collected from her enough to understand the sort of m eeting, and the sort of pain it was creating. She had seen only Mrs. Martin and the two girls. They had received her doubtingly, if not coolly ; and nothing bey ond the m erest com m onplace had been talked alm ost all the tim e – till j ust at last, when Mrs. Martin’s say ing, all of a sudden, that she thought Miss Sm ith was grown, had brought on a m ore interesting subj ect, and a warm er m anner. In that very room she had been m easured last Septem ber, with her two friends. There were the pencilled m arks and m em orandum s on the wainscot by the window. He had done it. They all seem ed to rem em ber the day, the hour, the party, the occasion – to feel the sam e consciousness, the sam e regrets – to be ready to return to the sam e good understanding; and they were j ust growing again like them selves, (Harriet, as Em m a m ust suspect, as ready as the best of them to be cordial and happy,) when the carriage reappeared, and all was over. The sty le of the visit, and the shortness of it, were then felt to be decisive. Fourteen m inutes to be given to those with whom she had thankfully passed six weeks not six m onths ago! – Em m a could not but picture it all, and feel how j ustly they m ight resent, how naturally Harriet m ust suffer. It was a bad business. She would have given a

great deal, or endured a great deal, to have had the Martins in a higher rank of life. They were so deserving, that a little higher should have been enough: but as it was, how could she have done otherwise? – Im possible! – She could not repent.

They m ust be separated; but there was a great deal of pain in the process – so m uch to herself at this tim e, that she soon felt the necessity of a little consolation, and resolved on going hom e by way of Randalls to procure it. Her m ind was quite sick of Mr. Elton and the Martins. The refreshm ent of Randalls was absolutely necessary.

It was a good schem e; but on driving to the door they heard that neither

“m aster nor m istress was at hom e;” they had both been out som e tim e; the m an believed they were gone to Hartfield.

“This is too bad,” cried Em m a, as they turned away. “And now we shall j ust m iss them ; too provoking! – I do not know when I have been so disappointed.” And she leaned back in the corner, to indulge her m urm urs, or to reason them away ; probably a little of both – such being the com m onest process of a not ill-disposed m ind. Presently the carriage stopt; she looked up; it was stopt by Mr. and Mrs. Weston, who were standing to speak to her. There was instant pleasure in the sight of them , and still greater pleasure was convey ed in sound –

for Mr. Weston im m ediately accosted her with,

“How d’y e do? – how d’y e do? – We have been sitting with y our father

– glad to see him so well. Frank com es to-m orrow – I had a letter this m orning –

we see him to-m orrow by dinner-tim e to a certainty – he is at Oxford to-day, and he com es for a whole fortnight; I knew it would be so. If he had com e at Christm as he could not have staid three day s; I was alway s glad he did not com e at Christm as; now we are going to have j ust the right weather for him , fine, dry, settled weather. We shall enj oy him com pletely ; every thing has turned out exactly as we could wish.”

There was no resisting such news, no possibility of avoiding the influence of such a happy face as Mr. Weston’s, confirm ed as it all was by the words and the countenance of his wife, fewer and quieter, but not less to the purpose. To know that she thought his com ing certain was enough to m ake Em m a consider it so, and sincerely did she rej oice in their j oy. It was a m ost delightful reanim ation of exhausted spirits. The worn-out past was sunk in the freshness of what was com ing; and in the rapidity of half a m om ent’s thought, she hoped Mr.

Elton would now be talked of no m ore.

Mr. Weston gave her the history of the engagem ents at Enscom be, which allowed his son to answer for having an entire fortnight at his com m and, as well as the route and the m ethod of his j ourney ; and she listened, and sm iled, and

congratulated.

“I shall soon bring him over to Hartfield,” said he, at the conclusion. Em m a could im agine she saw a touch of the arm at this speech, from his wife.

“We had better m ove on, Mr. Weston,” said she, “we are detaining the girls.”

“Well, well, I am ready ;” – and turning again to Em m a, “but y ou m ust not be expecting such a very fine y oung m an; y ou have only had m y account y ou know; I dare say he is really nothing extraordinary :” – though his own sparkling ey es at the m om ent were speaking a very different conviction.

Em m a could look perfectly unconscious and innocent, and answer in a m anner that appropriated nothing.

“Think of m e to-m orrow, m y dear Em m a, about four o’clock,” was Mrs. Weston’s parting inj unction; spoken with som e anxiety, and m eant only for her.

“Four o’clock! – depend upon it he will be here by three,” was Mr.

Weston’s quick am endm ent; and so ended a m ost satisfactory m eeting. Em m a’s spirits were m ounted quite up to happiness; every thing wore a different air; Jam es and his horses seem ed not half so sluggish as before. When she looked at the hedges, she thought the elder at least m ust soon be com ing out; and when she turned round to Harriet, she saw som ething like a look of spring, a tender sm ile even there.

“Will Mr. Frank Churchill pass through Bath as well as Oxford?” – was a question, however, which did not augur m uch.

But neither geography nor tranquillity could com e all at once, and Em m a was now in a hum our to resolve that they should both com e in tim e.

The m orning of the interesting day arrived, and Mrs. Weston’s faithful pupil did not forget either at ten, or eleven, or twelve o’clock, that she was to think of her at four.

“My dear, dear anxious friend,” – said she, in m ental soliloquy, while walking downstairs from her own room , “alway s overcareful for every body ’s com fort but y our own; I see y ou now in all y our little fidgets, going again and again into his room , to be sure that all is right.” The clock struck twelve as she passed through the hall. “’Tis twelve; I shall not forget to think of y ou four hours hence; and by this tim e to-m orrow, perhaps, or a little later, I m ay be thinking of

the possibility of their all calling here. I am sure they will bring him soon.”

She opened the parlour door, and saw two gentlem en sitting with her father – Mr. Weston and his son. They had been arrived only a few m inutes, and Mr. Weston had scarcely finished his explanation of Frank’s being a day before his tim e, and her father was y et in the m idst of his very civil welcom e and congratulations, when she appeared, to have her share of surprize, introduction, and pleasure.

The Frank Churchill so long talked of, so high in interest, was actually before her – he was presented to her, and she did not think too m uch had been said in his praise; he was a very good looking y oung m an; height, air, address, all were unexceptionable, and his countenance had a great deal of the spirit and liveliness of his father’s; he looked quick and sensible. She felt im m ediately that she should like him ; and there was a well-bred ease of m anner, and a readiness to talk, which convinced her that he cam e intending to be acquainted with her, and that acquainted they soon m ust be.

He had reached Randalls the evening before. She was pleased with the eagerness to arrive which had m ade him alter his plan, and travel earlier, later, and quicker, that he m ight gain half a day.

“I told y ou y esterday,” cried Mr. Weston with exultation, “I told y ou all that he would be here before the tim e nam ed. I rem em bered what I used to do m y self. One cannot creep upon a j ourney ; one cannot help getting on faster than one has planned; and the pleasure of com ing in upon one’s friends before the look-out begins, is worth a great deal m ore than any little exertion it needs.”

“It is a great pleasure where one can indulge in it,” said the y oung m an,

“though there are not m any houses that I should presum e on so far; but in com ing hom e I felt I m ight do any thing.”

The word hom e m ade his father look on him with fresh com placency.

Em m a was directly sure that he knew how to m ake him self agreeable; the conviction was strengthened by what followed. He was very m uch pleased with Randalls, thought it a m ost adm irably arranged house, would hardly allow it even to be very sm all, adm ired the situation, the walk to Highbury, Highbury itself, Hartfield still m ore, and professed him self to have alway s felt the sort of interest in the country which none but one’s own country gives, and the greatest curiosity to visit it. That he should never have been able to indulge so am iable a feeling before, passed suspiciously through Em m a’s brain; but still, if it were a falsehood, it was a pleasant one, and pleasantly handled. His m anner had no air of study or exaggeration. He did really look and speak as if in a state of no com m on enj oy m ent.

Their subj ects in general were such as belong to an opening acquaintance. On his side were the inquiries, – “Was she a horsewom an? –

Pleasant rides? – Pleasant walks? – Had they a large neighbourhood? – Highbury, perhaps, afforded society enough? – There were several very pretty houses in and about it. – Balls – had they balls? – Was it a m usical society ?”

But when satisfied on all these points, and their acquaintance proportionably advanced, he contrived to find an opportunity, while their two fathers were engaged with each other, of introducing his m other-in-law, and speaking of her with so m uch handsom e praise, so m uch warm adm iration, so m uch gratitude for the happiness she secured to his father, and her very kind reception of him self, as was an additional proof of his knowing how to please –

and of his certainly thinking it worth while to try to please her. He did not advance a word of praise bey ond what she knew to be thoroughly deserved by Mrs.

Weston; but, undoubtedly he could know very little of the m atter. He understood what would be welcom e; he could be sure of little else. “His father’s m arriage,”

he said, “had been the wisest m easure, every friend m ust rej oice in it; and the fam ily from whom he had received such a blessing m ust be ever considered as having conferred the highest obligation on him .”

He got as near as he could to thanking her for Miss Tay lor’s m erits, without seem ing quite to forget that in the com m on course of things it was to be rather supposed that Miss Tay lor had form ed Miss Woodhouse’s character, than Miss Woodhouse Miss Tay lor’s. And at last, as if resolved to qualify his opinion com pletely for travelling round to its obj ect, he wound it all up with astonishm ent at the y outh and beauty of her person.

“Elegant, agreeable m anners, I was prepared for,” said he; “but I confess that, considering every thing, I had not expected m ore than a very tolerably well-looking wom an of a certain age; I did not know that I was to find a pretty y oung wom an in Mrs. Weston.”

“You cannot see too m uch perfection in Mrs. Weston for m y feelings,”

said Em m a; “were y ou to guess her to be eighteen, I should listen with pleasure; but she would be ready to quarrel with y ou for using such words. Don’t let her im agine that y ou have spoken of her as a pretty y oung wom an.”

“I hope I should know better,” he replied; “no, depend upon it, (with a gallant bow,) that in addressing Mrs. Weston I should understand whom I m ight praise without any danger of being thought extravagant in m y term s.”

Em m a wondered whether the sam e suspicion of what m ight be expected from their knowing each other, which had taken strong possession of her m ind, had ever crossed his; and whether his com plim ents were to be considered

as m arks of acquiescence, or proofs of defiance. She m ust see m ore of him to understand his way s; at present she only felt they were agreeable.

She had no doubt of what Mr. Weston was often thinking about. His quick ey e she detected again and again glancing towards them with a happy expression; and even, when he m ight have determ ined not to look, she was confident that he was often listening.

Her own father’s perfect exem ption from any thought of the kind, the entire deficiency in him of all such sort of penetration or suspicion, was a m ost com fortable circum stance. Happily he was not farther from approving m atrim ony than from foreseeing it. – Though alway s obj ecting to every m arriage that was arranged, he never suffered beforehand from the apprehension of any ; it seem ed as if he could not think so ill of any two persons’

understanding as to suppose they m eant to m arry till it were proved against them .

She blessed the favouring blindness. He could now, without the drawback of a single unpleasant surm ise, without a glance forward at any possible treachery in his guest, give way to all his natural kind-hearted civility in solicitous inquiries after Mr. Frank Churchill’s accom m odation on his j ourney, through the sad evils of sleeping two nights on the road, and express very genuine unm ixed anxiety to know that he had certainly escaped catching cold – which, however, he could not allow him to feel quite assured of him self till after another night.

A reasonable visit paid, Mr. Weston began to m ove. – “He m ust be going. He had business at the Crown about his hay, and a great m any errands for Mrs. Weston at Ford’s, but he need not hurry any body else.” His son, too well bred to hear the hint, rose im m ediately also, say ing,

“As y ou are going farther on business, sir, I will take the opportunity of pay ing a visit, which m ust be paid som e day or other, and therefore m ay as well be paid now. I have the honour of being acquainted with a neighbour of y ours, (turning to Em m a,) a lady residing in or near Highbury ; a fam ily of the nam e of Fairfax. I shall have no difficulty, I suppose, in finding the house; though Fairfax, I believe, is not the proper nam e – I should rather say Barnes, or Bates. Do y ou know any fam ily of that nam e?”

“To be sure we do,” cried his father; “Mrs. Bates – we passed her house

– I saw Miss Bates at the window. True, true, y ou are acquainted with Miss Fairfax; I rem em ber y ou knew her at Wey m outh, and a fine girl she is. Call upon her, by all m eans.”

“There is no necessity for m y calling this m orning,” said the y oung m an; “another day would do as well; but there was that degree of acquaintance at Wey m outh which – “

“Oh! go to-day, go to-day. Do not defer it. What is right to be done cannot be done too soon. And, besides, I m ust give y ou a hint, Frank; any want of attention to her here should be carefully avoided. You saw her with the Cam pbells, when she was the equal of every body she m ixed with, but here she is with a poor old grandm other, who has barely enough to live on. If y ou do not call early it will be a slight.”

The son looked convinced.

“I have heard her speak of the acquaintance,” said Em m a; “she is a very elegant y oung wom an.”

He agreed to it, but with so quiet a “Yes,” as inclined her alm ost to doubt his real concurrence; and y et there m ust be a very distinct sort of elegance for the fashionable world, if Jane Fairfax could be thought only ordinarily gifted with it.

“If y ou were never particularly struck by her m anners before,” said she, “I think y ou will to-day. You will see her to advantage; see her and hear her –

no, I am afraid y ou will not hear her at all, for she has an aunt who never holds her tongue.”

“You are acquainted with Miss Jane Fairfax, sir, are y ou?” said Mr.

Woodhouse, alway s the last to m ake his way in conversation; “then give m e leave to assure y ou that y ou will find her a very agreeable y oung lady. She is stay ing here on a visit to her grandm am a and aunt, very worthy people; I have known them all m y life. They will be extrem ely glad to see y ou, I am sure; and one of m y servants shall go with y ou to shew y ou the way.”

“My dear sir, upon no account in the world; m y father can direct m e.”

“But y our father is not going so far; he is only going to the Crown, quite on the other side of the street, and there are a great m any houses; y ou m ight be very m uch at a loss, and it is a very dirty walk, unless y ou keep on the footpath; but m y coachm an can tell y ou where y ou had best cross the street.”

Mr. Frank Churchill still declined it, looking as serious as he could, and his father gave his hearty support by calling out, “My good friend, this is quite unnecessary ; Frank knows a puddle of water when he sees it, and as to Mrs.