Chapter IX

Emma did not repent her going to the Coles. The visit afforded her many pleasant recollections the next day. But her regret related to Jane Fairfax; and there she had no doubt. She did regret the inferiority of her own playing and singing. So she sat down and practiced vigorously an hour and a half.

She was interrupted by Harriet’s coming in.

“Oh! if I could but play as well as you and Miss Fairfax!”

“Don’t class us together, Harriet. My playing is far from hers.”

“Oh! I think you play the best of the two. I think you play quite as well as she does. Everybody last night said how well you played.”

“Those who knew anything about it, must have felt the difference.”

“Well, Mr. Cole said how much taste you had; and Mr. Frank Churchill talked a great deal about your taste, and that he valued taste much more than execution.”

“Ah! But Jane Fairfax has them both, Harriet.”

“Are you sure? I saw she had execution, but I did not know if she had any taste. Nobody talked about it. And I hate Italian singing. Besides, if she does play so very well, you know, she is obliged to do, because she will have to teach. The Coxes were wondering last night whether she would get into a good family. How did you think the Coxes looked?”

“Just as they always do – very vulgar.”

“They told me something,” said Harriet rather hesitatingly.

Emma was obliged to ask what they had told her.

“They told me – that Mr. Martin dined with them last Saturday.”

“Oh!”

“He came to their father upon some business, and he asked him to stay to dinner.”

“Oh!”

“They talked a great deal about him, especially Anne Cox. I do not know what she meant, but she asked me if I thought I should go and stay there again next summer. She said he was very agreeable the day he dined there. He sat by her at dinner. Miss Nash thinks either of the Coxes would be very glad to marry him.”

“Very likely. I think they are the most vulgar girls in Highbury.”

Harriet had business at Ford’s. Emma decided to go with her. Another meeting with the Martins was possible, and in her present state, would be dangerous.

Much could not be hoped from the traffic of even the busiest part of Highbury. Mr. Perry walking hastily by, Mr. William Cox letting himself in at the office-door, Mr. Cole’s carriage-horses returning from exercise, or a stray letter-boy on an obstinate mule, were the liveliest objects Emma could expect.

She looked down the Randalls road. Two persons appeared; Mrs. Weston and her son-in-law; they were walking into Highbury; to Hartfield of course. They were stopping, however, in the first place at Mrs. Bates’s; whose house was a little nearer Randalls than Ford’s; and Emma caught their eye. Immediately they crossed the road and came forward to her. Mrs. Weston informed her that she was going to call on the Bateses, in order to hear the new instrument.

“I absolutely promised Miss Bates last night,” said she, “that I would come this morning.”

“And while Mrs. Weston pays her visit, I may be allowed, I hope,” said Frank Churchill, “to join your party and wait for her at Hartfield – if you are going home.”

Mrs. Weston was disappointed.

“Dear Emma, come with me,” said Mrs. Weston, “if it be not very disagreeable to you. It need not detain us long. We will go to Hartfield afterwards. I really wish you to call with me.”

Chapter X

The appearance of the little sitting-room as they entered, was tranquillity itself. Jane Fairfax, was intent on her pianoforte.

“Whoever Colonel Campbell might employ,” said Frank Churchill, with a smile at Emma, “the person has chosen the best instrument. Miss Fairfax, do not you think so?”

Jane did not look round. She did not hear. Mrs. Weston had been speaking to her at the same moment.

Frank shook his head with a smile. Soon afterwards he began again,

“How much your friends in Ireland must be enjoying your pleasure on this occasion, Miss Fairfax. I dare say they often think of you. Do you think Colonel Campbell has sent only general or precise directions?”

He paused. Jane could not avoid answering,

“Till I have a letter from Colonel Campbell,” said she, in a voice of forced calmness, “I can imagine nothing.”

Frank went to the pianoforte, and begged Miss Fairfax, who was still sitting at it, to play something.

“If you are very kind,” said he, “it will be one of the waltzes we danced last night. You did not enjoy them as I did; you appeared tired. I believe you were glad we danced no longer; but I would have given everything for another half-hour.”

She played.

“What felicity it is to hear a tune again which has made one happy! If I mistake not that was danced at Weymouth.”

She looked up at him for a moment, coloured deeply, and played something else. He took some music from a chair near the pianoforte, and turning to Emma, said,

“Here is something quite new to me. Do you know it? And here is a new set of Irish melodies. This was all sent with the instrument. Very thoughtful of Colonel Campbell. He knew Miss Fairfax could have no music here.”

He brought all the music to her, and they looked it over together. Miss Bates, passing near the window, saw Mr. Knightley on horse-back not far off.

“Mr. Knightley! I must speak to him if possible, just to thank him. I will not open the window here; it would give you all cold; but I can go into my mother’s room you know. I dare say he will come in when he knows who is here. Quite delightful to have you all meet so!”

She immediately called Mr. Knightley’s attention.

“How do you do? Very well, I thank you. So obliged to you for the carriage last night. We were just in time. Pray come in; do come in. You will find some friends here.”

Mr. Knightley asked,

“How is your niece, Miss Bates? How is Miss Fairfax? I hope she caught no cold last night. How is she today? Tell me how Miss Fairfax is.”

And Miss Bates was obliged to give a direct answer before he would hear her in anything else. Mrs. Weston gave Emma a look of particular meaning. But Emma still shook her head in steady scepticism.

“So obliged to you! – so very much obliged to you for the carriage,” resumed Miss Bates.

“I am going to Kingston. Can I do anything for you?”

“No, I thank you. But do come in. Who do you think is here? Miss Woodhouse and Miss Smith. Do put up your horse at the Crown, and come in.”

“Well,” said he, “for five minutes, perhaps.”

“And here is Mrs. Weston and Mr. Frank Churchill too! Quite delightful; so many friends!”

“Oh… No, not now, I thank you. I could not stay two minutes. I must get on to Kingston as fast as I can. Your room is full enough. I will call another day, and hear the pianoforte.”

Emma found it really time to be at home; the visit had already lasted long.

Chapter XI

It may be possible to live without dancing. But Frank Churchill had danced once at Highbury, and wanted to dance again. His proposition and request, that the dance begun at Mr. Cole’s should be finished at the Crown Inn, that the same party should be collected, and the same musician engaged, met with the readiest acquiescence.

Before the middle of the next day, he was at Hartfield; and he entered the room with an agreeable smile.

“Well, Miss Woodhouse,” he almost immediately began, “May I hope for the honour of your hand for the two first dances of this ball?”

“Oh! The ball at the Crown Inn! It appears to me a plan that nobody can object to. I think it admirable; and, as far as I can answer for myself, shall be most happy. Papa, do you not think it an excellent scheme?”

No; he thought it very far from being excellent – a very bad plan. A room at an inn was always damp and dangerous; never properly aired. He had never been in the room at the Crown in his life – did not know the people who kept it. Oh! no – a very bad plan. They would catch worse colds at the Crown than anywhere.

“My father and Mrs. Weston are at the Crown at this moment,” said Frank Churchill, “examining the capabilities of the house. I left them there and came on to Hartfield, impatient for your opinion, and hoping you might be persuaded to join them and give your advice on the spot. It would be the greatest pleasure to them, if you could allow me to attend you there. They can do nothing satisfactorily without you.”

Emma was most happy to be called to such a council; and her father, engaging to think it all over while she was gone, the two young 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.

All the arrangements of table and chair, lights and music, tea and supper, made themselves. Everybody invited, was certainly to come; Frank had already written to his aunt to propose staying a few days beyond his fortnight, which could not possibly be refused. And a delightful dance it was to be!

Chapter XII

Enscombe was gracious. Frank’s wish of staying longer evidently did not please; but it was not opposed. All was safe and prosperous, but Mr. Knightley showed provoking indifference about the ball. He did not dance himself, so it did not interest him at all.

“Very well; I have nothing to say against it,” said he, “I must be there; I could not refuse; and I will keep as much awake as I can; but I would rather be at home. Pleasure in seeing dancing! Not I, indeed – I never look at it – I do not know who does. Those who are standing by are usually thinking of something very different.”

“Oh! I hope nothing may happen to prevent the ball. What a disappointment it would be! I do look forward to it, with very great pleasure,” said Emma.

Alas! there was soon no time for quarrelling with Mr. Knightley. A letter arrived from Mr. Churchill to urge his nephew’s instant return. Mrs. Churchill was unwell – far too unwell to do without him; she had been in a very suffering state (so said her husband) when writing to her nephew two days before, but now she was too ill to trifle, and must entreat him to set off for Enscombe without delay.

Frank knew her illnesses; they never occurred but for her own convenience. But he had to go to Enscombe.

This wretched note was the finale of Emma’s breakfast. The loss of the ball – the loss of the young man! It was too wretched! Such a delightful evening! Everybody so happy! and she and her partner the happiest! “I said it would be so,” was the only consolation.

“Of all horrid things, leave-taking is the worst,” said Frank.

“But you will come again,” said Emma. “This will not be your only visit to Randalls.”

“Ah! (shaking his head) I shall try for it with a zeal! It will be the object of all my thoughts and cares!”

“Our poor ball must be quite given up.”

“If I can come again, we will have our ball. Do not forget your engagement.”

Emma looked graciously.

“Such a fortnight as it has been!” he continued; “every day more precious and more delightful than the day before! Happy those, who can remain at Highbury!”

“And you must be off this very morning?”

“Yes; my father is to join me here: we shall walk back together, and I must be off immediately.”

“Not five minutes to spare even for your friends Miss Fairfax and Miss Bates? How unlucky!”

“I have called there; passing the door, I thought it better. It was a right thing to do. I went in for three minutes.”

He hesitated, got up, walked to a window.

“In short,” said he, “perhaps, Miss Woodhouse – I think you can hardly be quite without suspicion…”

He looked at her, as if wanting to read her thoughts. She hardly knew what to say. He was silent. She heard him sigh. A few awkward moments passed, and he sat down again; and in a more determined manner said,

“My regard for Hartfield is most warm…”

He stopped again, rose again, and seemed quite embarrassed. He was more in love with her than Emma had supposed; and who can say how it might have ended, if his father had not come in? Mr. Woodhouse soon followed.

A very friendly shake of the hand, a very earnest “Good-bye,” and the door had soon shut out Frank Churchill. Emma felt so sorry to part. It was a sad change. They had been meeting almost every day since his arrival. Certainly his being at Randalls had given great spirit to the last two weeks – indescribable spirit; the idea, the expectation of seeing him which every morning had brought, the assurance of his attentions, his liveliness, his manners! It had been a very happy fortnight. And he had almost told her that he loved her. All this made her think that she must be a little in love with him, too.

“I must be in love,” said she. “I should be the oddest creature in the world if I were not – for a few weeks at least.”

Mr. Knightley, however, showed no triumphant happiness.

“You, Emma, who have so few opportunities of dancing, you are really out of luck; you are very much out of luck!”