“Upon my word it is,Miss Bates.—He really is engaged from morning to night.—There is no end of people’s coming to him, on some pretence or other.—The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without him.—‘Upon my word, Mr. E.,’ I often say, ‘rather you than I.—I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had half so many applicants.’—Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree.—I believe I have not played a bar this fortnight.—However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all.” And putting up her hand to screen her words from Emma—“A congratulatory visit, you know.—Oh!yes, quite indispensable.”
Miss Bates looked about her, so happily—!
“He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself from Knightley;but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep consultation.—Mr.E. is Knightley’s right hand.”
Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said,“Is Mr. Elton gone on foot to Donwell?—He will have a hot walk.”
“Oh!no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting.Weston and Cole will be there too;but one is apt to speak only of those who lead.—I fancy Mr.E. and Knightley have every thing their own way.”
“Have not you mistaken the day?” said Emma. “I am almost certain that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.—Mr. Knightley was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday.”
“Oh!no, the meeting is certainly to-day,” was the abrupt answer,which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs.Elton’s side.—“I do believe,” she continued,“this is the most troublesome parish that ever was.We never heard of such things at Maple Grove.”
“Your parish there was small,” said Jane.
“Upon my word, my dear, I do not know,for I never heard the subject talked of.”
“But it is proved by the smallness of the school,which I have heard you speak of,as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge;the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children. ”
“Ah!you clever creature, that’s very true.What a thinking brain you have!I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make,if we could be shaken together.My liveliness and your solidity would produce perfection.—Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already.—But hush!—not a word, if you please.”
It seemed an unnecessary caution;Jane was wanting to give her words, not to Mrs. Elton,but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw.The wish of distinguishing her,as far as civility permitted, was very evident,though it could not often proceed beyond a look.
Mr. Elton made his appearance.His lady greeted him with some of her sparkling vivacity.
“Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here,to be an encumbrance to my friends,so long before you vouchsafe to come!—But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with.You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared.—Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal obedience—for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?”
Mr. Elton was so hot and tired,that all this wit seemed thrown away.His civilities to the other ladies must be paid;but his subsequent object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the walk he had had for nothing.
“When I got to Donwell,” said he,“Knightley could not be found. Very odd!very unaccountable!after the note I sent him this morning,and the message he returned,that he should certainly be at home till one.”
“Donwell!” cried his wife.—“My dear Mr. E.,you have not been to Donwell!—You mean the Crown;you come from the meeting at the Crown.”
“No, no, that’s to-morrow;and I particularly wanted to see Knightley to-day on that very account.—Such a dreadful broiling morning!—I went over the fields too—(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made it so much the worse.And then not to find him at home!I assure you I am not at all pleased.And no apology left, no message for me.The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.—Very extraordinary!—And nobody knew at all which way he was gone.Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill,perhaps into his woods.—Miss Woodhouse,this is not like our friend Knightley!—Can you explain it?”
Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary,indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him.
“I cannot imagine,” said Mrs. Elton,(feeling the indignity as a wife ought to do,) “I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you,of all people in the world!The very last person whom one should expect to be forgotten!—My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you,I am sure he must.—Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;—and his servants forgot it. Depend upon it,that was the case: and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants,who are all, I have often observed,extremely awkward and remiss.—I am sure I would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.—She promised Wright a receipt, and never sent it.”
“I met William Larkins,” continued Mr. Elton,“as I got near the house,and he told me I should not find his master at home,but I did not believe him.—William seemed rather out of humour.He did not know what was come to his master lately,he said, but he could hardly ever get the speech of him.I have nothing to do with William’s wants,but it really is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day;and it becomes a matter, therefore,of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk to no purpose.”
Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly.In all probability she was at this very time waited for there;and Mr. Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins.
She was pleased, on taking leave,to find Miss Fairfax determined to attend her out of the room,to go with her even downstairs;it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say,
“It is as well, perhaps,that I have not had the possibility.Had you not been surrounded by other friends,I might have been tempted to introduce a subject,to ask questions, to speak more openly than might have been strictly correct.—I feel that I should certainly have been impertinent.”
“Oh!” cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual composure—“there would have been no danger. The danger would have been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than by expressing an interest—. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a degree as to—I have not time for half that I could wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately—in short, if your compassion does not stand my friend—”
“Oh!you are too scrupulous, indeed you are,” cried Emma warmly, and taking her hand.“You owe me no apologies;and every body to whom you might be supposed to owe them,is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted even—”
“You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.—So cold and artificial!—I had always a part to act.—It was a life of deceit!—I know that I must have disgusted you.”