Emma (8 page)

“Indeed, Harriet, it would have been a severe pang to lose you, but it must have been. You would have thrown yourself out of all good society. I must have given you up.”

“Dear me! How should I ever have borne it! It would have killed me never to come to Hartfield anymore!”

“Dear affectionate creature!
You
banished to Abbey Mill Farm!
You
confined to the society of the illiterate and vulgar all your life! I wonder how the young man could have the assurance to ask it. He must have a pretty good opinion of himself.”

“I do not think he is conceited either, in general,” said Harriet, her conscience opposing such censure, “at least, he is very good natured, and I shall always feel much obliged to him, and have a great regard for—but that is quite a different thing from—and you know, though he may like me, it does not follow that I should—and certainly I must confess that since my visiting here I have seen people—and if one comes to compare them, person and manners, there is no comparison at all,
one
is so very handsome and agreeable. However, I do really think Mr Martin a very amiable young man, and have a great opinion of him, and his being so much attached to me—and his writing such a letter—but as to leaving you, it is what I would not do upon any consideration.”

“Thank you, thank you, my own sweet little friend. We will not be parted. A woman is not to marry a man merely because she is asked, or because he is attached to her, and can write a tolerable letter.”

“Oh no, and it is but a short letter too.”

Emma felt the bad taste of her friend, but let it pass with a “very true”, and it would be a small consolation to her, for the clownish manner which might be offending her every hour of the day, to know that her husband could write a good letter.

“Oh! Yes, very. Nobody cares for a letter, the thing is to be always happy with pleasant companions. I am quite determined to refuse him. But how shall I do? What shall I say?”

Emma assured her there would be no difficulty in the answer, and advised its being written directly, which was agreed to, in the hope of her assistance, and though Emma continued to protest against any assistance being wanted, it was in fact given in the formation of every sentence. The looking over his letter again, in replying to it, had such a softening tendency, that it was particularly necessary to brace her up with a few decisive expressions. She was so very much concerned at the idea of making him unhappy, and thought so much of what his mother and sisters would think and say, and was so anxious that they should not fancy her ungrateful, that Emma believed if the young man had come in her way at that moment, he would have been accepted after all.

This letter, however, was written and sealed and sent. The business was finished, and Harriet safe. She was rather low all the evening, but Emma could allow for her amiable regrets, and sometimes relieved them by speaking of her own affection, sometimes by bringing forward the idea of Mr Elton.

“I shall never be invited to Abbey Mill again,” was said in rather a sorrowful tone.

“Nor, if you were, could I ever bear to part with you, my Harriet. You are a great deal too necessary at Hartfield to be spared to Abbey Mill.”

“And I am sure I should never want to go there, for I am never happy but at Hartfield.”

Some time afterwards it was, “I think Mrs Goddard would be very much surprised if she knew what had happened. I am sure Miss Nash would—for Miss Nash thinks her own sister very well married, and it is only a linen-draper.”

“One should be sorry to see greater pride or refinement in the teacher of a school, Harriet. I dare say Miss Nash would envy you such an opportunity as this of being married. Even this conquest would appear valuable in her eyes. As to anything superior for you, I suppose she is quite in the dark. The attentions of a certain person can hardly be among the tittle-tattle of Highbury yet. Hitherto I fancy you and I are the only people to whom his looks and manners have explained themselves.”

Harriet blushed and smiled, and said something about wondering that people should like her so much. The idea of Mr Elton was certainly cheering, but still, after a time, she was tender-hearted again towards the rejected Mr Martin.

“Now he has got my letter,” said she softly. “I wonder what they are all doing—whether his sisters know—if he is unhappy, they will be unhappy too. I hope he will not mind it so very much.”

“Let us think of those among our absent friends who are more cheerfully employed,” cried Emma. “At this moment, perhaps, Mr Elton is showing your picture to his mother and sisters, telling how much more beautiful is the original, and after being asked for it five or six times, allowing them to hear your name, your own dear name.”

“My picture! But he has left my picture in Bond Street.”

“Has he so! Then I know nothing of Mr Elton. No, my dear little modest Harriet, depend upon it, the picture will not be in Bond Street till just before he mounts his horse tomorrow. It is his companion all this evening, his solace, his delight. It opens his designs to his family, it introduces you among them, it diffuses through the party those pleasantest feelings of our nature, eager curiosity and warm prepossession. How cheerful, how animated, how suspicious, how busy their imaginations all are!”

Harriet smiled again, and her smiles grew stronger.

Chapter Eight

Harriet slept at Hartfield that night. For some weeks past she had been spending more than half her time there, and gradually getting to have a bedroom appropriated to herself, and Emma judged it best in every respect, safest and kindest, to keep her with them as much as possible just at present. She was obliged to go the next morning for an hour or two to Mrs Goddard’s, but it was then to be settled that she should return to Hartfield, to make a regular visit of some days.

While she was gone Mr Knightley called, and sat some time with Mr Woodhouse and Emma, till Mr Woodhouse, who had previously made up his mind to walk out, was persuaded by his daughter not to defer it, and was induced by the entreaties of both, though against the scruples of his own civility, to leave Mr Knightley for that purpose. Mr Knightley, who had nothing of ceremony about him, was offering by his short, decided answers an amusing contrast to the protracted apologies and civil hesitations of the other.

“Well, I believe, if you will excuse me, Mr Knightley, if you will not consider me as doing a very rude thing, I shall take Emma’s advice and go out for a quarter of an hour. As the sun is out, I believe I had better take my three turns while I can. I treat you without ceremony, Mr Knightley. We invalids think we are privileged people.”

“My dear sir, do not make a stranger of me.”

“I leave an excellent substitute in my daughter. Emma will be happy to entertain you. And therefore I think I will beg your excuse and take my three turns—my winter walk.”

“You cannot do better, sir.”

“I would ask for the pleasure of your company, Mr Knightley, but I am a very slow walker, and my pace would be tedious to you, and besides, you have another long walk before you, to Donwell Abbey.”

“Thank you, sir, thank you, I am going this moment myself, and I think the sooner
you
go the better. I will fetch your greatcoat and open the garden door for you.”

Mr Woodhouse at last was off, but Mr Knightley, instead of being immediately off likewise, sat down again beside her, seemingly inclined for more chat. He began speaking of Harriet, and speaking of her with more voluntary praise than Emma had ever heard before.

“I cannot rate her beauty as you do,” said he, “but she is a pretty little creature, and I am inclined to think very well of her disposition. Her character depends upon those she is with, but in good hands she will turn out a valuable woman.”

“I am glad you think so, and the good hands, I hope, may not be wanting.”

“Come,” said he, taking her hand, “you are anxious for a compliment, so I will tell you that you have improved her. You have cured her of her schoolgirl’s giggle, she really does you credit.”

“Thank you. I should be mortified indeed if I did not believe I had been of some use, but it is not everybody who will bestow praise where they may.
You
do not often overpower me with it.”

“Giving you any such credit would only allow you greater leverage for similar diversions in future. I prefer you to take your successes and rest upon them so that you may turn your attentions to more suitable tasks.”

“What tasks might be more suitable to me than bettering a friend or seeing to her eternal happiness?”

Mr Knightley covered her hand with both of his, tracing her fingers with one of his own. “Matrimony would suit you well, I think. You should be more diligent in seeing to your own future than the future of a woman with uncertain birth.”

Emma withdrew. “Mr Knightley, you of all people know I have no designs to attach myself anywhere, and why should I when all I require is within the walls of Hartfield? No, I do not seek matrimony for myself. I have no need of it to change my current state of affairs, but Harriet can only use it to her benefit.”

“There is no one who strikes your interest in the subject? No one man who holds your heart?” he asked.

“Should I choose to hold designs upon a man’s heart, it would not be for marriage, I assure you.”

“Then to what purpose?”

“Diversion only. I have all I need here. I am the mistress of the house with the esteem of my society. I possess the unlimited reserves of my father’s affection and the regard of my friends. I require nothing and thus should I wish to explore the intricacies of a love match, I can do so at my leisure without the confines of matrimony.”

“Not so! You mean to have an affair? You would lose each of those gains mentioned with such an indulgence, with my respect topping all.”

“Contrary to your belief, it is not your respect which governs my activities, Mr Knightley.”

“No, I do not suppose it is, for you hardly alter your chosen course when I am in disagreement of it—though you should. Just as you should change course now.”

“I have no reason to. As I said—all is as I want it. Should I desire more, there is no reason to assume I could not obtain it without the discredit to my reputation or placement in Highbury.”

Mr Knightley kept his silence for a moment, pondering the alarming direction Emma travelled and wondering again that Miss Taylor had ever managed to dissuade her from such musings in the past. Had she, and how had she managed it?

“Very well, then you must know what you would be against,” Mr Knightley concluded. “I shall offer my services to show you the error of your ways.”

“Of course you shall. You ever offer to correct me. It is a wonder there is anything left of me to fix!”

“Silence, Emma, and take your instruction.”

Mr Knightley clutched her chin such that she could not free it. Then presuming upon her person, he claimed a kiss from her lips—at first chaste, then demanding as was his nature. Emma gasped against him and Mr Knightley intruded his tongue into her mouth. Emma pushed at his shoulders, for this act was much beyond her experience, and having now been acquainted with it, her hands became weakened. Instead of warding off this advance, they betrayed her in every manner by bringing Mr Knightley towards her until the kiss consumed her senses. She did not know where she ended and he began, only that a strange heat built up inside her and shook her nerves more than she had had occasion to experience before.

As quickly as he had begun, so he stopped, setting her back from him as though nothing more important had occurred but a stumble.

Mr Knightley lifted his tea and sipped leisurely while she tried to collect her wayward senses—lost with every bit of her characteristic decorum.

“Bettering Harriet goes well for you. I suspect you will have her married off before long and will be at a crossroads as to your next project. The curiosity will be whether it is to adopt another friend or to rightfully attempt to better yourself with an honourable attachment.”

Injustice piqued Emma’s anger that he could so cavalierly engage her lips one moment and behave as though nothing had occurred the next—then tie the two loose ends together in a lesson towards her improvement. “I daresay she requires as much help as I offer her and that should be your only concern. As she lives in a room here at Hartfield most days, I suspect to have her company regularly. She’s gone now to make arrangements with Mrs Goddard towards that end. Pray keep me from your thoughts and think only of what benefit I provide
her
.”

“You are expecting her again, you say, this morning?” He seemed no more interested in continuing the discussion about Emma or the kiss, and she, just as grateful for the reprieve, allowed it to drop without further ceremony.

Emma reclaimed her composure, choosing to behave as he did—as though nothing had occurred between them just moments before. Later, in privacy, she knew she would wonder at his boldness, and the failing of her resolve to resist his mouth. She wanted only to appear as though he had had no effect on her, that the kiss had no hold on her attention, but could be forgotten as easily as he seemed to have done. “Almost every moment. She has been gone longer already than she intended.”

“Something has happened to delay her, some visitors perhaps.”

“Highbury gossips! Tiresome wretches!” She added venom to the words more as a release for her personal embarrassment that she could not govern her thoughts better on the subject of Mr Knightley and his kiss.

“Harriet may not consider everybody tiresome that you would.”

Emma knew this was too true for contradiction, and therefore said nothing. He presently added, with a smile, “I do not pretend to fix on times or places, but I must tell you that I have good reason to believe your little friend will soon hear of something to her advantage.”

“Indeed! How so? Of what sort?” Successfully her mind switched subjects and she was much relieved because of it.