Chapter V

Mr. Knightley, who had certainly taken an early dislike to Frank Churchill, was only growing to dislike him more. He began to suspect him of some double dealing in his pursuit of Emma. Moreover, Mr. Knightley began to suspect him of some inclination to trifle with Jane Fairfax. He was dining with the Randalls family, and Jane, at the Eltons’; and he had seen a look, more than a single look, at Miss Fairfax, which, from the admirer of Miss Woodhouse, seemed somewhat out of place.

“My dear Emma,” said he one day, “do you think you perfectly understand the degree of acquaintance between Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax?”

“Between Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax? Oh! yes, perfectly. Why do you make a doubt of it?”

“Have you never at any time had reason to think that he admired her, or that she admired him?”

“Never, never!” she cried with a most open eagerness. “Never did such an idea occur to me. And how could it possibly come into your head?”

“I have lately imagined that I saw symptoms of attachment between them – certain expressive looks, and so on.”

“Oh! There is no admiration between them, I assure you; and the appearances which have caught you, have arisen from some peculiar circumstances.”

She spoke with a confidence which staggered, with a satisfaction which silenced, Mr. Knightley. And he walked home to the coolness and solitude of Donwell Abbey.

Chapter VI

It was now the middle of June, and the weather was fine.

“You had better explore to Donwell,” said Mr. Knightley to Mrs. Elton. “Come, and eat my strawberries. They are ripening fast.”

“Oh! I would like it,” was her answer. “You may depend upon me, I certainly will come. Name your day, and I will come. You will allow me to bring Jane Fairfax?”

“I cannot name a day,” said he, “till I have spoken to some others whom I would wish to meet you.”

“Oh! leave all that to me. Only give me a carte-blanche. I will bring friends with me.”

“No,” he calmly replied, “there is but one married woman in the world whom I can ever allow to invite what guests she pleases to Donwell, and that one is – ”

“ – Mrs. Weston, I suppose,” interrupted Mrs. Elton, rather mortified.

“No – Mrs. Knightley; and till she is here, I will manage such matters myself.”

“Ah! you are an odd creature!” she cried, satisfied to have no one preferred to herself. “You are a humourist, and may say what you like. Quite a humourist. Well, I shall bring Jane with me – Jane and her aunt. The rest I leave to you.”

Mr. Knightley was fortunate in everybody’s readiness to come. The invitation was everywhere well received. It was so long since Emma had been at the Abbey, that as soon as she was satisfied of her father’s comfort, she was glad to leave him, and look around her.

The house was just what it ought to be, and it looked what it was – and Emma felt an increasing respect for it. The whole party were assembled, excepting Frank Churchill, who was expected every moment from Richmond. Mrs. Elton was ready to talk about strawberries, and only strawberries. “The best fruit in England – everybody’s favourite – always wholesome. – Delightful to gather for one’s self – the only way of really enjoying them. – Morning decidedly the best time – never tired – every sort good – no comparison – the others hardly eatable – price of strawberries in London – cultivation – gardeners exactly different – no general rule – delicious fruit – glaring sun – tired to death – could bear it no longer – must go and sit in the shade.”

Then they all went to eat; and they were all seated and busy, and still Frank Churchill did not come. Mrs. Weston looked, and looked in vain. Soon the party went out once more to see what had not yet been seen, the old Abbey fish-ponds. Emma walked into the hall to see the entrance of the house – and suddenly Jane Fairfax appeared, coming quickly in from the garden.

“Will you be so kind,” said Jane Fairfax, “when I am missed, as to say that I am gone home? I am going this moment. I am determined to go directly. I have said nothing about it to anybody. It would only be giving trouble and distress. Some are gone to the ponds, and some to the lime walk. Till they all come in I shall not be missed; and when they do, will you have the goodness to say that I am gone?”

“Certainly, if you wish it; but you are not going to walk to Highbury alone?”

“Yes – what should hurt me? I walk fast. I shall be at home in twenty minutes.”

“But it is too far, indeed it is, to be walking quite alone. Let my father’s servant go with you. Let me order the carriage. It can be round in five minutes.”

“Thank you, thank you, but I would rather walk.”

She spoke with great agitation; and Emma replied,

“I must order the carriage. You are fatigued already.”

“I am,” she answered, “I am fatigued; but quick walking will refresh me. Miss Woodhouse, please let me have my own way, and only say that I am gone when it is necessary.”

Emma had not another word to oppose. Her parting look was grateful.

Jane had not been gone a quarter of an hour, when Frank Churchill entered the room. He was not in his best spirits, but made himself talk nonsense.

“As soon as my aunt gets well, I shall go abroad,” said he.

“But you will never go to Switzerland. Your uncle and aunt will never allow you to leave England.”

“They may go there too. A warm climate may be prescribed for my aunt. I ought to travel. I am tired of doing nothing. I want a change. I am serious, Miss Woodhouse, I am sick of England – and would leave it tomorrow, if I could.”

“You are sick of prosperity and indulgence.”

“I sick of prosperity and indulgence! You are quite mistaken. I do not consider myself at all a fortunate person.”

“You are not quite so miserable, though, as when you first came. Go and eat and drink a little more, and you will do very well.”

“No – I shall sit by you. You are my best cure.”

“We are going to Box Hill tomorrow; you will join us. It is not Switzerland, but it will be something for a young man so much in want of a change. You will stay, and go with us?”

“No, certainly not; I shall go home in the evening.”

The rest of the party were now returning, and all were soon collected. With some there was great joy at the sight of Frank Churchill; others took it very composedly; but there was a very general distress and disturbance on Miss Fairfax’s disappearance being explained. It was time for everybody to go; and with a short final arrangement for the next day’s scheme, they parted. Frank Churchill’s last words to Emma were,

“Well; – if you wish me to stay and join the party, I will.”

She smiled her acceptance.

Chapter VII

They had a very fine day for Box Hill; and all the circumstances of arrangement, accommodation, and punctuality were in favour of a pleasant party. Emma and Harriet went together; Miss Bates and her niece, with the Eltons; the gentlemen on horseback. Mrs. Weston remained with Mr. Woodhouse. Seven miles were travelled in expectation of enjoyment. Then they separated into parties. The Eltons walked together; Mr. Knightley took charge of Miss Bates and Jane; and Emma and Harriet belonged to Frank Churchill.

At first Emma was boring. She had never seen Frank Churchill so silent and stupid. He said nothing worth hearing – looked without seeing – admired without intelligence – listened without knowing what she said. While he was so dull, it was no wonder that Harriet should be dull likewise; and they were both insufferable.

When they all sat down it was better; for Frank Churchill grew talkative, making her his first object. Every attention that could be paid, was paid to her. To amuse her, and be agreeable in her eyes, seemed all that he cared for – and Emma gave him all the friendly encouragement, the admission to be gallant. Most people looking on it could describe, “Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse flirted together excessively.” But Emma still intended him for her friend.

“How much I am obliged to you,” said he, “for telling me to come today! If it had not been for you, I should certainly have lost all the happiness of this party.”

“Yes, you were very cross; I was a kinder friend than you deserved.”

“Don’t say I was cross. I was fatigued. The heat overcame me.”

“It is hotter today.”

“I am perfectly comfortable today.”

“You are comfortable because you are under command.”

“Your command? Yes. You order me, whether you speak or not. And you can be always with me. You are always with me.”

“Your gallantry is really unanswerable. But (lowering her voice) – nobody speaks except ourselves.”

“I say nothing of which I am ashamed,” replied he, with lively impudence. And then whispering, “Our companions are excessively stupid. What shall we do to rouse them? Any nonsense will serve. They shall talk. Ladies and gentlemen, I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse to say, that she desires to know what you are all thinking of?”

Some laughed, and answered good-humouredly. Miss Bates said a great deal; Mrs. Elton swelled; Mr. Knightley’s answer was the most distinct.

“Is Miss Woodhouse sure that she would like to hear what we are all thinking of?”

“Oh! no, no,” cried Emma, laughing as carelessly as she could. “Not at all. It is the very last thing I would like to know. But there are one or two, perhaps, (glancing at Mr. Weston and Harriet,) whose thoughts I might not be afraid of knowing.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Frank to Emma; “I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse to say, that she only demands from each of you one thing very clever, be it prose or verse, original or repeated – or two things moderately clever – or three things very dull indeed, and she promises to laugh heartily at them all.”

“Oh! very well,” exclaimed Miss Bates, “ ‘Three things very dull indeed.’ That will just do for me, you know. I shall say three dull things as soon as ever I open my mouth, shan’t I? Do not you all think I shall?”

“Ah! ma’am,” said Emma. “Pardon me – but you will be limited as to number – only three at once.”

A slight blush showed that it pained Miss Bates.

“Ah! – well – to be sure. Yes, I see what she means, (turning to Mr. Knightley,) and I will try to hold my tongue.”

“I like your plan,” cried Mr. Weston. “Agreed, agreed. I will do my best. I am making a conundrum… Here it is. What two letters of the alphabet are there, that express perfection?”

“What two letters! – express perfection! I am sure I do not know.”

“Ah! you will never guess. You, (to Emma), I am certain, will never guess. I will tell you. M. and A. Em-ma. Do you understand?”

Emma laughed and enjoyed this – and so did Frank and Harriet. But Mr. Knightley gravely said,

“This explains the sort of clever thing that is wanted.”

“Oh! for myself, I protest I must be excused,” said Mrs. Elton; “I am not at all fond of the sort of thing. I had an acrostic once sent to me upon my own name, which I was not at all pleased with. I knew who it came from. You know who I mean (nodding to her husband). These things are very well at Christmas, but not here. Miss Woodhouse must excuse me. Forgive us, if you please, Mr. Churchill – Mr. E., Knightley, Jane, and myself. We have nothing clever to say – not one of us.

“Yes, yes,” added her husband; “I have nothing to say that can entertain Miss Woodhouse, or any other young lady. An old married man – quite good for nothing. Shall we walk, Augusta?”

“With all my heart. Come, Jane, take my other arm.”

Jane declined it, however, and the husband and wife walked off.

“Happy couple!” said Frank Churchill, as soon as they were out of hearing: “How well they suit one another! Very lucky! They only knew each other, I think, a few weeks in Bath! Peculiarly lucky!”

Miss Fairfax, who had seldom spoken before, spoke now.

“Such things occur, undoubtedly.” She was stopped by a cough. Frank Churchill turned towards her to listen.

“You were speaking,” said he, gravely. She recovered her voice.

“I was only going to observe, that though such unfortunate circumstances sometimes occur both to men and women, I cannot imagine them to be very frequent. A hasty and imprudent attachment may arise – but there is generally time to recover from it afterwards.”

He made no answer; merely looked, and bowed in submission; and soon afterwards said, in a lively tone,

“Well, I have so little confidence in my own judgment, that whenever I marry, I hope somebody will choose my wife for me. Will you? (turning to Emma.) Will you choose a wife for me? Find somebody for me. I am in no hurry. Adopt her, educate her.”

“And make her like myself.”

“By all means, if you can.”

“Very well. You will have a charming wife.”

“She must be very lively, and have hazel eyes. I care for nothing else. I shall go abroad for a couple of years – and when I return, I shall come to you for my wife. Remember.”

Of course, Emma will not forget. Was not Harriet described? He might have Harriet in his thoughts at the moment; who could say?

“Now, ma’am,” said Jane to her aunt, “shall we join Mrs. Elton?”

“If you please, my dear. With all my heart. I am quite ready. We shall soon overtake her.”

They walked off, followed in half a minute by Mr. Knightley. Mr. Weston, his son, Emma, and Harriet, only remained; and the young man’s spirits now became unpleasant. Even Emma grew tired at last of flattery and merriment. The appearance of the servants was a joyful sight; the very questionable enjoyments of this day of pleasure were over.

While waiting for the carriage, she found Mr. Knightley by her side. He looked around, and then said,

“Emma, I must once more speak to you. How could you be so rude to Miss Bates, to a woman of her character, age, and situation? Emma, I had not thought it possible.”

Emma blushed, was sorry, but tried to laugh.

“Nay, it was not so very bad. I dare say she did not understand me.”

“I assure you she did. She is very sad because her society is so irksome.”

“Oh!” cried Emma, “but you must allow, that what is good and what is ridiculous are most unfortunately blended in her.”

“They are blended,” said he, “I acknowledge; and, were she prosperous, were she a woman of fortune, I would not quarrel with you. Were she your equal in situation – but, Emma, she is poor. Her situation should secure your compassion. It was badly done, indeed! You, whom she had known from an infant, laugh at her, humble her – and before her niece – and before others. This is not pleasant to you, Emma – and it is very far from pleasant to me; but I must, I will, – I will tell you truths while I can.”

While they talked, they were advancing towards the carriage; it was ready; and, before she could speak again, he had handed her in. She had not been able to speak. He had turned away, and the horses were in motion. Never had she felt so agitated, mortified, grieved, at any circumstance in her life. How could she have been so brutal, so cruel to Miss Bates! Emma felt the tears running down her cheeks almost all the way home.