Emma (10 page)

Emma laughed and disclaimed. He continued, “Depend upon it, Elton will not do. Elton is a very good sort of man, and a very respectable vicar of Highbury, but not at all likely to make an imprudent match. He knows the value of a good income as well as anybody. Elton may talk sentimentally, but he will act rationally. He is as well acquainted with his own claims as you can be with Harriet’s. He knows that he is a very handsome young man, and a great favourite wherever he goes, and from his general way of talking in unreserved moments, when there are only men present, I am convinced that he does not mean to throw himself away. I have heard him speak with great animation of a large family of young ladies that his sisters are intimate with, who have all twenty thousand pounds apiece.”

“I am very much obliged to you,” said Emma, laughing again. “If I had set my heart on Mr Elton’s marrying Harriet, it would have been very kind to open my eyes, but at present I only want to keep Harriet to myself. I have done with matchmaking indeed. I could never hope to equal my own doings at Randalls. I shall leave off while I am well.”

“Good morning to you,” said he, rising and walking off abruptly. He was very much vexed. He felt the disappointment of the young man, and was mortified to have been the means of promoting it, by the sanction he had given, and the part which he was persuaded Emma had taken in the affair was provoking him exceedingly.

Emma remained in a state of vexation too, but there was more indistinctness in the causes of hers than in his. She did not always feel so absolutely satisfied with herself, so entirely convinced that her opinions were right and her adversary’s wrong, as Mr Knightley. He walked off in more complete self-approbation than he left for her. She was not so materially cast down, however, but that a little time and the return of Harriet were very adequate restoratives.

Harriet’s staying away so long was beginning to make her uneasy. The possibility of the young man’s coming to Mrs Goddard’s that morning, and meeting with Harriet and pleading his own cause, gave alarming ideas. The dread of such a failure after all became the prominent uneasiness, and when Harriet appeared, and in very good spirits, and without having any such reason to give for her long absence, she felt a satisfaction which settled her with her own mind, and convinced her that let Mr Knightley think or say what he would, she had done nothing which woman’s friendship and woman’s feelings would not justify.

He had frightened her a little about Mr Elton. But when she considered that Mr Knightley could not have observed him as she had done, neither with the interest nor—she must be allowed to tell herself, in spite of Mr Knightley’s pretensions—with the skill of such an observer on such a question as herself, that he had spoken it hastily and in anger, she was able to believe that he had rather said what he wished resentfully to be true than what he knew anything about. He certainly might have heard Mr Elton speak with more unreserve than she had ever done, and Mr Elton might not be of an imprudent, inconsiderate disposition as to money matters, he might naturally be rather attentive than otherwise to them. But then, Mr Knightley did not make due allowance for the influence of a strong passion at war with all interested motives. Mr Knightley saw no such passion, and of course thought nothing of its effects as evidenced by his kiss, but she saw too much of it to feel a doubt of its overcoming any hesitations that a reasonable prudence might originally suggest, and more than a reasonable, becoming degree of prudence, she was very sure did not belong to Mr Elton.

Harriet’s cheerful look and manner established hers. She came back, not to think of Mr Martin, but to talk of Mr Elton. Miss Nash had been telling her something which she repeated immediately with great delight. Mr Perry had been to Mrs Goddard’s to attend a sick child, and Miss Nash had seen him, and he had told Miss Nash that as he was coming back yesterday from Clayton Park, he had met Mr Elton, and found to his great surprise that Mr Elton was actually on his road to London, and not meaning to return till the morrow, though it was the whist-club night, which he had been never known to miss before. Mr Perry had remonstrated with him about it and told him how shabby it was in him, their best player, to absent himself, and tried very much to persuade him to put off his journey only one day. But it would not do, Mr Elton had been determined to go on, and had said in a
very
particular
way indeed that he was going on business which he would not put off for any inducement in the world, and something about a very enviable commission, and being the bearer of something exceedingly precious. Mr Perry could not quite understand him, but he was very sure there must be a
lady
in the case, and he told him so, and Mr Elton only looked very conscious and smiling, and rode off in great spirits. Miss Nash had told her all this, and had talked a great deal more about Mr Elton, and said, looking so very significantly at her, that she did not pretend to understand what his business might be, but she only knew that any woman whom Mr Elton could prefer, she should think the luckiest woman in the world, for, beyond a doubt, Mr Elton had not his equal for beauty or agreeableness.

As to the other—the matter of the kiss—Emma was in much doubt. Had Mr Knightley meant the incident as a tool of instruction or pleasure she did not know. Given the course of the discussion, and Emma’s assertion that she did not wish to marry, she could believe he meant to instruct her in the fallacy of her logic by inciting her lips to a new hunger. Or perhaps he meant to suggest that she was as driven by passion as was the rest of her sex—based upon his shallow argument of a female’s worth. Either did not sit well with her and she would have liked to have had her senses about her upon that moment to instruct
him
better.

In the privacy of her mind, she could admit that the kiss had been quite enjoyable. Had she no fears of his changing opinion of her for doing so, she would have liked to have leaned in for another such demonstration of her passionate nature. He had seemed unaffected. She, not willing to concede a win, had let it pass with little recognition for the indelicacy and inappropriate presumption upon her person. Let him believe it had no effect on her! It would only feed his sense of righteousness in all his arguments and make her the poorer loser for it. She knew she was in the right, if not as convinced of it as he. His arrogance secured his stance as it always did, where she would not measure up against him, in his mind.

No, this kiss, like the argument, could not been viewed as her loss. She wouldn’t allow it because it provided him more security than he should possess where she was concerned. Still the kiss chafed her good sense and matched it with indecision she did not wish to entertain. That she desired another such example there was no doubt in her mind. That she would allow him to be in control of such would not be endured. Should another such instance occur, it would be her doing—and see then, Mr Knightley, whose passion betrayed them!

Chapter Nine

Mr Knightley might quarrel with her, but Emma could not quarrel with herself. He was so much displeased, that it was longer than usual before he came to Hartfield again, and when they did meet, his grave looks showed that she was not forgiven. She was sorry to be at odds with him, but could not repent. On the contrary, her plans and proceedings were more and more justified and endeared to her by the general appearances of the next few days.

The Picture, elegantly framed, came safely to hand soon after Mr Elton’s return, and being hung over the mantelpiece of the common sitting room, he got up to look at it, and sighed out his half sentences of admiration just as he ought. As for Harriet’s feelings, they were visibly forming themselves into as strong and steady an attachment as her youth and sort of mind admitted. Emma was soon perfectly satisfied of Mr Martin’s being no otherwise remembered than as he furnished a contrast with Mr Elton, of the utmost advantage to the latter.

Her views of improving her little friend’s mind, by a great deal of useful reading and conversation, had never yet led to more than a few first chapters, and the intention of going on tomorrow. It was much easier to chat than to study, much pleasanter to let her imagination range and work at Harriet’s fortune, than to be labouring to enlarge her comprehension or exercise it on sober facts. The only literary pursuit which engaged Harriet at present, the only mental provision she was making for the evening of life, was the collecting and transcribing all the riddles of every sort that she could meet with into a thin quarto of hot-pressed paper, made up by her friend, and ornamented with ciphers and trophies.

In this age of literature, such collections on a very grand scale are not uncommon. Miss Nash, headteacher at Mrs Goddard’s, had written out at least three hundred, and Harriet, who had taken the first hint of it from her, hoped with Miss Woodhouse’s help to get a great many more. Emma assisted with her invention, memory and taste, and as Harriet wrote a very pretty hand, it was likely to be an arrangement of the first order, in form as well as quantity.

Mr Woodhouse was almost as much interested in the business as the girls, and tried very often to recollect something worth their putting in. So many clever riddles as there used to be when he was young—he wondered he could not remember them! But he hoped he should in time. And it always ended in “Kitty, a fair but frozen maid”.

His good friend Perry too, whom he had spoken to on the subject, did not at present recollect anything of the riddle kind, but he had desired Perry to be upon the watch, and as he went about so much, something, he thought, might come from that quarter.

It was by no means his daughter’s wish that the intellects of Highbury in general should be put under requisition. Mr Elton was the only one whose assistance she asked. He was invited to contribute any really good enigmas, charades or conundrums that he might recollect, and she had the pleasure of seeing him most intently at work with his recollections, and at the same time, as she could perceive, most earnestly careful that nothing ungallant, nothing that did not breathe a compliment to the sex should pass his lips. They owed to him their two or three politest puzzles, and the joy and exultation with which at last he recalled, and rather sentimentally recited, that well-known charade—

My first doth affliction denote,

Which my second is destin’d to feel

And my whole is the best antidote

That affliction to soften and heal.

—made her quite sorry to acknowledge that they had transcribed it some pages ago already.

“Why will not you write one yourself for us, Mr Elton?” said she. “That is the only security for its freshness, and nothing could be easier to you.”

“Oh no!” He had never written, hardly ever, anything of the kind in his life. The stupidest fellow! He was afraid not even Miss Woodhouse—he stopped a moment—or Miss Smith could inspire him.

The very next day however produced some proof of inspiration. He called for a few moments, just to leave a piece of paper on the table containing, as he said, a charade which a friend of his had addressed to a young lady, the object of his admiration, but which from his manner Emma was immediately convinced must be his own.

“I do not offer it for Miss Smith’s collection,” said he. “Being my friend’s, I have no right to expose it in any degree to the public eye, but perhaps you may not dislike looking at it.”

The speech was more to Emma than to Harriet, which Emma could understand. There was deep consciousness about him, and he found it easier to meet her eye than her friend’s. He was gone the next moment.

After another moment’s pause—“Take it,” said Emma, smiling, and pushing the paper towards Harriet. “It is for you. Take your own.”

But Harriet was in a tremor, and could not touch it, and Emma, never loath to be first, was obliged to examine it herself.

To Miss—

CHARADE.

My first displays the wealth and pomp of kings,

Lords of the earth! Their luxury and ease.

Another view of man, my second brings,

Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!

But ah! United, what reverse we have!

Man’s boasted power and freedom, all are flown,

Lord of the earth and sea, he bends a slave,

And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone.

Thy ready wit the word will soon supply,

May its approval beam in that soft eye!

She cast her eye over it, pondered, caught the meaning, read it through again to be quite certain and quite mistress of the lines, then passing it to Harriet, sat happily smiling and saying to herself, while Harriet was puzzling over the paper in all the confusion of hope and dullness, “Very well, Mr Elton, very well indeed. I have read worse charades.
Courtship
—a very good hint. I give you credit for it. This is feeling your way. This is saying very plainly—‘Pray, Miss Smith, give me leave to pay my addresses to you. Approve my charade and my intentions in the same glance.’
May its approval beam in that soft eye!
Harriet exactly. Soft is the very word for her eye—of all epithets, the justest that could be given.
Thy ready wit the word will soon supply.
Humph—Harriet’s ready wit! All the better. A man must be very much in love, indeed, to describe her so. Ah! Mr Knightley, I wish you had the benefit of this, I think this would convince you. For once in your life you would be obliged to own yourself mistaken. An excellent charade indeed! And very much to the purpose. Things must come to a crisis soon now.”

She was obliged to break off from these very pleasant observations, which were otherwise of a sort to run into great length, by the eagerness of Harriet’s wondering questions.