Chapter XI

“To think of y our sending us all y our store apples. You said y ou had a great m any, and now y ou have not one left. We really are so shocked! Mrs.

Hodges m ay well be angry. William Larkins m entioned it here. You should not have done it, indeed y ou should not. Ah! he is off. He never can bear to be thanked. But I thought he would have staid now, and it would have been a pity not to have m entioned.... Well, (returning to the room ,) I have not been able to succeed. Mr. Knightley cannot stop. He is going to Kingston. He asked m e if he could do any thing....”

“Yes,” said Jane, “we heard his kind offers, we heard every thing.”

“Oh! y es, m y dear, I dare say y ou m ight, because y ou know, the door was open, and the window was open, and Mr. Knightley spoke loud. You m ust have heard every thing to be sure. ‘Can I do any thing for y ou at Kingston?’ said he; so I j ust m entioned.... Oh! Miss Woodhouse, m ust y ou be going? – You seem but j ust com e – so very obliging of y ou.”

Em m a found it really tim e to be at hom e; the visit had already lasted long; and on exam ining watches, so m uch of the m orning was perceived to be gone, that Mrs. Weston and her com panion taking leave also, could allow them selves only to walk with the two y oung ladies to Hartfield gates, before they set off for Randalls.

CHAPTER XI

It m ay be possible to do without dancing entirely. Instances have been known of y oung people passing m any, m any m onths successively, without being at any ball of any description, and no m aterial inj ury accrue either to body or m ind; – but when a beginning is m ade – when the felicities of rapid m otion have once been, though slightly, felt – it m ust be a very heavy set that does not ask for m ore.

Frank Churchill had danced once at Highbury, and longed to dance again; and the last half-hour of an evening which Mr. Woodhouse was persuaded to spend with his daughter at Randalls, was passed by the two y oung people in schem es on the subj ect. Frank’s was the first idea; and his the greatest zeal in pursuing it; for the lady was the best j udge of the difficulties, and the m ost solicitous for accom m odation and appearance. But still she had inclination enough for shewing people again how delightfully Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse danced – for doing that in which she need not blush to com pare herself with Jane Fairfax – and even for sim ple dancing itself, without any of the wicked aids of vanity – to assist him first in pacing out the room they were in to see what it could be m ade to hold – and then in taking the dim ensions of the other parlour, in the hope of discovering, in spite of all that Mr. Weston could say of their exactly equal size, that it was a little the largest.

His first proposition and request, that the dance begun at Mr. Cole’s should be finished there – that the sam e party should be collected, and the sam e m usician engaged, m et with the readiest acquiescence. Mr. Weston entered into the idea with thorough enj oy m ent, and Mrs. Weston m ost willingly undertook to play as long as they could wish to dance; and the interesting em ploy m ent had followed, of reckoning up exactly who there would be, and portioning out the indispensable division of space to every couple.

“You and Miss Sm ith, and Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss Coxes five,” had been repeated m any tim es over. “And there will be the two Gilberts, y oung Cox, m y father, and m y self, besides Mr. Knightley. Yes, that will be quite enough for pleasure. You and Miss Sm ith, and Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss Coxes five; and for five couple there will be plenty of room .”

But soon it cam e to be on one side,

“But will there be good room for five couple? – I really do not think there will.”

On another, “And after all, five couple are not enough to m ake it worth while to stand up. Five couple are nothing, when one thinks seriously about it. It will not do to invite five couple. It can be allowable only as the thought of the m om ent.”

Som ebody said that Miss Gilbert was expected at her brother’s, and m ust be invited with the rest. Som ebody else believed Mrs. Gilbert would have danced the other evening, if she had been asked. A word was put in for a second y oung Cox; and at last, Mr. Weston nam ing one fam ily of cousins who m ust be included, and another of very old acquaintance who could not be left out, it becam e a certainty that the five couple would be at least ten, and a very interesting speculation in what possible m anner they could be disposed of.

The doors of the two room s were j ust opposite each other. “Might not they use both room s, and dance across the passage?” It seem ed the best schem e; and y et it was not so good but that m any of them wanted a better. Em m a said it would be awkward; Mrs. Weston was in distress about the supper; and Mr.

Woodhouse opposed it earnestly, on the score of health. It m ade him so very unhappy, indeed, that it could not be persevered in.

“Oh! no,” said he; “it would be the extrem e of im prudence. I could not bear it for Em m a! – Em m a is not strong. She would catch a dreadful cold. So would poor little Harriet. So y ou would all. Mrs. Weston, y ou would be quite laid up; do not let them talk of such a wild thing. Pray do not let them talk of it. That y oung m an (speaking lower) is very thoughtless. Do not tell his father, but that y oung m an is not quite the thing. He has been opening the doors very often this evening, and keeping them open very inconsiderately. He does not think of the draught. I do not m ean to set y ou against him , but indeed he is not quite the thing!”

Mrs. Weston was sorry for such a charge. She knew the im portance of it, and said every thing in her power to do it away. Every door was now closed, the passage plan given up, and the first schem e of dancing only in the room they were in resorted to again; and with such good-will on Frank Churchill’s part, that the space which a quarter of an hour before had been deem ed barely sufficient for five couple, was now endeavoured to be m ade out quite enough for ten.

“We were too m agnificent,” said he. “We allowed unnecessary room .

Ten couple m ay stand here very well.”

Em m a dem urred. “It would be a crowd – a sad crowd; and what could be worse than dancing without space to turn in?”

“Very true,” he gravely replied; “it was very bad.” But still he went on m easuring, and still he ended with,

“I think there will be very tolerable room for ten couple.”

“No, no,” said she, “y ou are quite unreasonable. It would be dreadful to be standing so close! Nothing can be farther from pleasure than to be dancing in a crowd – and a crowd in a little room !”

“There is no deny ing it,” he replied. “I agree with y ou exactly. A crowd in a little room – Miss Woodhouse, y ou have the art of giving pictures in a few words. Exquisite, quite exquisite! – Still, however, having proceeded so far, one is unwilling to give the m atter up. It would be a disappointm ent to m y father – and altogether – I do not know that – I am rather of opinion that ten couple m ight stand here very well.”

Em m a perceived that the nature of his gallantry was a little self-willed, and that he would rather oppose than lose the pleasure of dancing with her; but she took the com plim ent, and forgave the rest. Had she intended ever to m arry him , it m ight have been worth while to pause and consider, and try to understand the value of his preference, and the character of his tem per; but for all the purposes of their acquaintance, he was quite am iable enough.

Before the m iddle of the next day, he was at Hartfield; and he entered the room with such an agreeable sm ile as certified the continuance of the schem e. It soon appeared that he cam e to announce an im provem ent.

“Well, Miss Woodhouse,” he alm ost im m ediately began, “y our inclination for dancing has not been quite frightened away, I hope, by the terrors of m y father’s little room s. I bring a new proposal on the subj ect: – a thought of m y father’s, which waits only y our approbation to be acted upon. May I hope for the honour of y our hand for the two first dances of this little proj ected ball, to be given, not at Randalls, but at the Crown Inn?”

“The Crown!”

“Yes; if y ou and Mr. Woodhouse see no obj ection, and I trust y ou cannot, m y father hopes his friends will be so kind as to visit him there. Better accom m odations, he can prom ise them , and not a less grateful welcom e than at Randalls. It is his own idea. Mrs. Weston sees no obj ection to it, provided y ou are satisfied. This is what we all feel. Oh! y ou were perfectly right! Ten couple, in either of the Randalls room s, would have been insufferable! – Dreadful! – I felt how right y ou were the whole tim e, but was too anxious for securing any thing to like to y ield. Is not it a good exchange? – You consent – I hope y ou consent?”

“It appears to m e a plan that nobody can obj ect to, if Mr. and Mrs.

Weston do not. I think it adm irable; and, as far as I can answer for m y self, shall be m ost happy – It seem s the only im provem ent that could be. Papa, do y ou not

think it an excellent im provem ent?”

She was obliged to repeat and explain it, before it was fully com prehended; and then, being quite new, farther representations were necessary to m ake it acceptable.

“No; he thought it very far from an im provem ent – a very bad plan –

m uch worse than the other. A room at an inn was alway s dam p and dangerous; never properly aired, or fit to be inhabited. If they m ust dance, they had better dance at Randalls. He had never been in the room at the Crown in his life – did not know the people who kept it by sight. – Oh! no – a very bad plan. They would catch worse colds at the Crown than any where.”

“I was going to observe, sir,” said Frank Churchill, “that one of the great recom m endations of this change would be the very little danger of any body ’s catching cold – so m uch less danger at the Crown than at Randalls! Mr. Perry m ight have reason to regret the alteration, but nobody else could.”

“Sir,” said Mr. Woodhouse, rather warm ly, “y ou are very m uch m istaken if y ou suppose Mr. Perry to be that sort of character. Mr. Perry is extrem ely concerned when any of us are ill. But I do not understand how the room at the Crown can be safer for y ou than y our father’s house.”

“From the very circum stance of its being larger, sir. We shall have no occasion to open the windows at all – not once the whole evening; and it is that dreadful habit of opening the windows, letting in cold air upon heated bodies, which (as y ou well know, sir) does the m ischief.”

“Open the windows! – but surely, Mr. Churchill, nobody would think of opening the windows at Randalls. Nobody could be so im prudent! I never heard of such a thing. Dancing with open windows! – I am sure, neither y our father nor Mrs. Weston (poor Miss Tay lor that was) would suffer it.”

“Ah! sir – but a thoughtless y oung person will som etim es step behind a window-curtain, and throw up a sash, without its being suspected. I have often known it done m y self.”

“Have y ou indeed, sir? – Bless m e! I never could have supposed it. But I live out of the world, and am often astonished at what I hear. However, this does m ake a difference; and, perhaps, when we com e to talk it over – but these sort of things require a good deal of consideration. One cannot resolve upon them in a hurry. If Mr. and Mrs. Weston will be so obliging as to call here one m orning, we m ay talk it over, and see what can be done.”

“But, unfortunately, sir, m y tim e is so lim ited – “

“Oh!” interrupted Em m a, “there will be plenty of tim e for talking every thing over. There is no hurry at all. If it can be contrived to be at the Crown, papa, it will be very convenient for the horses. They will be so near their own stable.”

“So they will, m y dear. That is a great thing. Not that Jam es ever com plains; but it is right to spare our horses when we can. If I could be sure of the room s being thoroughly aired – but is Mrs. Stokes to be trusted? I doubt it. I do not know her, even by sight.”

“I can answer for every thing of that nature, sir, because it will be under Mrs. Weston’s care. Mrs. Weston undertakes to direct the whole.”

“There, papa! – Now y ou m ust be satisfied – Our own dear Mrs.

Weston, who is carefulness itself. Do not y ou rem em ber what Mr. Perry said, so m any y ears ago, when I had the m easles? ‘If Miss Tay lor undertakes to wrap Miss Em m a up, y ou need not have any fears, sir.’ How often have I heard y ou speak of it as such a com plim ent to her!”

“Ay e, very true. Mr. Perry did say so. I shall never forget it. Poor little Em m a! You were very bad with the m easles; that is, y ou would have been very bad, but for Perry ’s great attention. He cam e four tim es a day for a week. He said, from the first, it was a very good sort – which was our great com fort; but the m easles are a dreadful com plaint. I hope whenever poor Isabella’s little ones have the m easles, she will send for Perry.”

“My father and Mrs. Weston are at the Crown at this m om ent,” said Frank Churchill, “exam ining the capabilities of the house. I left them there and cam e on to Hartfield, im patient for y our opinion, and hoping y ou m ight be persuaded to j oin them and give y our advice on the spot. I was desired to say so from both. It would be the greatest pleasure to them , if y ou could allow m e to attend y ou there. They can do nothing satisfactorily without y ou.”

Em m a was m ost happy to be called to such a council; and her father, engaging to think it all over while she was gone, the two y oung people set off together without delay for the Crown. There were Mr. and Mrs. Weston; delighted to see her and receive her approbation, very busy and very happy in their different way ; she, in som e little distress; and he, finding every thing perfect.

“Em m a,” said she, “this paper is worse than I expected. Look! in places y ou see it is dreadfully dirty ; and the wainscot is m ore y ellow and forlorn than any thing I could have im agined.”

“My dear, y ou are too particular,” said her husband. “What does all that signify ? You will see nothing of it by candlelight. It will be as clean as

Randalls by candlelight. We never see any thing of it on our club-nights.”

The ladies here probably exchanged looks which m eant, “Men never know when things are dirty or not;” and the gentlem en perhaps thought each to him self, “Wom en will have their little nonsenses and needless cares.”

One perplexity, however, arose, which the gentlem en did not disdain. It regarded a supper-room . At the tim e of the ballroom ’s being built, suppers had not been in question; and a sm all card-room adj oining, was the only addition. What was to be done? This card-room would be wanted as a card-room now; or, if cards were conveniently voted unnecessary by their four selves, still was it not too sm all for any com fortable supper? Another room of m uch better size m ight be secured for the purpose; but it was at the other end of the house, and a long awkward passage m ust be gone through to get at it. This m ade a difficulty. Mrs.

Weston was afraid of draughts for the y oung people in that passage; and neither Em m a nor the gentlem en could tolerate the prospect of being m iserably crowded at supper.

Mrs. Weston proposed having no regular supper; m erely sandwiches,

& c., set out in the little room ; but that was scouted as a wretched suggestion. A private dance, without sitting down to supper, was pronounced an infam ous fraud upon the rights of m en and wom en; and Mrs. Weston m ust not speak of it again.

She then took another line of expediency, and looking into the doubtful room , observed,

“I do not think it is so very sm all. We shall not be m any, y ou know.”

And Mr. Weston at the sam e tim e, walking briskly with long steps through the passage, was calling out,

“You talk a great deal of the length of this passage, m y dear. It is a m ere nothing after all; and not the least draught from the stairs.”

“I wish,” said Mrs. Weston, “one could know which arrangem ent our guests in general would like best. To do what would be m ost generally pleasing m ust be our obj ect – if one could but tell what that would be.”

“Yes, very true,” cried Frank, “very true. You want y our neighbours’ opinions. I do not wonder at y ou. If one could ascertain what the chief of them –

the Coles, for instance. They are not far off. Shall I call upon them ? Or Miss Bates? She is still nearer. – And I do not know whether Miss Bates is not as likely to understand the inclinations of the rest of the people as any body. I think we do want a larger council. Suppose I go and invite Miss Bates to j oin us?”

“Well – if y ou please,” said Mrs. Weston rather hesitating, “if y ou think

she will be of any use.”

“You will get nothing to the purpose from Miss Bates,” said Em m a.

“She will be all delight and gratitude, but she will tell y ou nothing. She will not even listen to y our questions. I see no advantage in consulting Miss Bates.”

“But she is so am using, so extrem ely am using! I am very fond of hearing Miss Bates talk. And I need not bring the whole fam ily, y ou know.”

Here Mr. Weston j oined them , and on hearing what was proposed, gave it his decided approbation.

“Ay e, do, Frank. – Go and fetch Miss Bates, and let us end the m atter at once. She will enj oy the schem e, I am sure; and I do not know a properer person for shewing us how to do away difficulties. Fetch Miss Bates. We are growing a little too nice. She is a standing lesson of how to be happy. But fetch them both.

Invite them both.”

“Both sir! Can the old lady ?”...

“The old lady ! No, the y oung lady, to be sure. I shall think y ou a great blockhead, Frank, if y ou bring the aunt without the niece.”