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Emma
by Jane Austen
VOLUME III
CHAPTER X
One morning, about ten days after Mrs. Churchill's decease, Emma
was called downstairs to Mr. Weston, who "could not stay five
minutes, and wanted particularly to speak with her."-- He met
her at the parlour-door, and hardly asking her how she did, in the
natural key of his voice, sunk it immediately, to say, unheard by
her father,
"Can you come to Randalls at any time this morning?--Do, if
it be possible. Mrs. Weston wants to see you. She must see you."
"Is she unwell?"
"No, no, not at all--only a little agitated. She would have
ordered the carriage, and come to you, but she must see you alone,
and that you know--(nodding towards her father)--Humph!--Can you
come?"
"Certainly. This moment, if you please. It is impossible to
refuse what you ask in such a way. But what can be the matter?--
Is she really not ill?"
"Depend upon me--but ask no more questions. You will know it
all in time. The most unaccountable business! But hush, hush!"
To guess what all this meant, was impossible even for Emma. Something
really important seemed announced by his looks; but, as her friend
was well, she endeavoured not to be uneasy, and settling it with
her father, that she would take her walk now, she and Mr. Weston
were soon out of the house together and on their way at a quick
pace for Randalls.
"Now,"--said Emma, when they were fairly beyond the sweep
gates,-- "now Mr. Weston, do let me know what has happened."
"No, no,"--he gravely replied.--"Don't ask me. I
promised my wife to leave it all to her. She will break it to you
better than I can. Do not be impatient, Emma; it will all come out
too soon."
"Break it to me," cried Emma, standing still with terror.--"Good
God!--Mr. Weston, tell me at once.--Something has happened in Brunswick
Square. I know it has. Tell me, I charge you tell me this moment
what it is."
"No, indeed you are mistaken."--
"Mr. Weston do not trifle with me.--Consider how many of my
dearest friends are now in Brunswick Square. Which of them is it?--
I charge you by all that is sacred, not to attempt concealment."
"Upon my word, Emma."--
"Your word!--why not your honour!--why not say upon your honour,
that it has nothing to do with any of them? Good Heavens!--What
can be to be broke to me, that does not relate to one of that family?"
"Upon my honour," said he very seriously, "it does
not. It is not in the smallest degree connected with any human being
of the name of Knightley."
Emma's courage returned, and she walked on.
"I was wrong," he continued, "in talking of its
being broke to you. I should not have used the expression. In fact,
it does not concern you-- it concerns only myself,--that is, we
hope.--Humph!--In short, my dear Emma, there is no occasion to be
so uneasy about it. I don't say that it is not a disagreeable business--but
things might be much worse.--If we walk fast, we shall soon be at
Randalls."
Emma found that she must wait; and now it required little effort.
She asked no more questions therefore, merely employed her own fancy,
and that soon pointed out to her the probability of its being some
money concern--something just come to light, of a disagreeable nature
in the circumstances of the family,--something which the late event
at Richmond had brought forward. Her fancy was very active. Half
a dozen natural children, perhaps--and poor Frank cut off!-- This,
though very undesirable, would be no matter of agony to her. It
inspired little more than an animating curiosity.
"Who is that gentleman on horseback?" said she, as they
proceeded-- speaking more to assist Mr. Weston in keeping his secret,
than with any other view.
"I do not know.--One of the Otways.--Not Frank;--it is not
Frank, I assure you. You will not see him. He is half way to Windsor
by this time."
"Has your son been with you, then?"
"Oh! yes--did not you know?--Well, well, never mind."
For a moment he was silent; and then added, in a tone much more
guarded and demure,
"Yes, Frank came over this morning, just to ask us how we
did."
They hurried on, and were speedily at Randalls.--"Well, my
dear," said he, as they entered the room--"I have brought
her, and now I hope you will soon be better. I shall leave you together.
There is no use in delay. I shall not be far off, if you want me."--
And Emma distinctly heard him add, in a lower tone, before he quitted
the room,--"I have been as good as my word. She has not the
least idea."
Mrs. Weston was looking so ill, and had an air of so much perturbation,
that Emma's uneasiness increased; and the moment they were alone,
she eagerly said,
"What is it my dear friend? Something of a very unpleasant
nature, I find, has occurred;--do let me know directly what it is.
I have been walking all this way in complete suspense. We both abhor
suspense. Do not let mine continue longer. It will do you good to
speak of your distress, whatever it may be."
"Have you indeed no idea?" said Mrs. Weston in a trembling
voice. "Cannot you, my dear Emma--cannot you form a guess as
to what you are to hear?"
"So far as that it relates to Mr. Frank Churchill, I do guess."
"You are right. It does relate to him, and I will tell you
directly;" (resuming her work, and seeming resolved against
looking up.) "He has been here this very morning, on a most
extraordinary errand. It is impossible to express our surprize.
He came to speak to his father on a subject,--to announce an attachment--"
She stopped to breathe. Emma thought first of herself, and then
of Harriet.
"More than an attachment, indeed," resumed Mrs. Weston;
"an engagement-- a positive engagement.--What will you say,
Emma--what will any body say, when it is known that Frank Churchill
and Miss Fairfax are engaged;--nay, that they have been long engaged!"
Emma even jumped with surprize;--and, horror-struck, exclaimed,
"Jane Fairfax!--Good God! You are not serious? You do not
mean it?"
"You may well be amazed," returned Mrs. Weston, still
averting her eyes,and talking on with eagerness, that Emma might
have time to recover-- "You may well be amazed. But it is even
so. There has been a solemn engagement between them ever since October--formed
at Weymouth, and kept a secret from every body. Not a creature knowing
it but themselves--neither the Campbells, nor her family, nor his.--
It is so wonderful, that though perfectly convinced of the fact,
it is yet almost incredible to myself. I can hardly believe it.--
I thought I knew him."
Emma scarcely heard what was said.--Her mind was divided between
two ideas--her own former conversations with him about Miss Fairfax;
and poor Harriet;--and for some time she could only exclaim, and
require confirmation, repeated confirmation.
"Well," said she at last, trying to recover herself;
"this is a circumstance which I must think of at least half
a day, before I can at all comprehend it. What!--engaged to her
all the winter-- before either of them came to Highbury?"
"Engaged since October,--secretly engaged.--It has hurt me,
Emma, very much. It has hurt his father equally. Some part of his
conduct we cannot excuse."
Emma pondered a moment, and then replied, "I will not pretend
not to understand you; and to give you all the relief in my power,
be assured that no such effect has followed his attentions to me,
as you are apprehensive of."
Mrs. Weston looked up, afraid to believe; but Emma's countenance
was as steady as her words.
"That you may have less difficulty in believing this boast,
of my present perfect indifference," she continued, "I
will farther tell you, that there was a period in the early part
of our acquaintance, when I did like him, when I was very much disposed
to be attached to him--nay, was attached--and how it came to cease,
is perhaps the wonder. Fortunately, however, it did cease. I have
really for some time past, for at least these three months, cared
nothing about him. You may believe me, Mrs. Weston. This is the
simple truth."
Mrs. Weston kissed her with tears of joy; and when she could find
utterance, assured her, that this protestation had done her more
good than any thing else in the world could do.
"Mr. Weston will be almost as much relieved as myself,"
said she. "On this point we have been wretched. It was our
darling wish that you might be attached to each other--and we were
persuaded that it was so.-- Imagine what we have been feeling on
your account."
"I have escaped; and that I should escape, may be a matter
of grateful wonder to you and myself. But this does not acquit him,
Mrs. Weston; and I must say, that I think him greatly to blame.
What right had he to come among us with affection and faith engaged,and
with manners so very disengaged? What right had he to endeavour
to please, as he certainly did--to distinguish any one young woman
with persevering attention, as he certainly did--while he really
belonged to another?--How could he tell what mischief he might be
doing?-- How could he tell that he might not be making me in love
with him?-- very wrong, very wrong indeed."
"From something that he said, my dear Emma, I rather imagine--"
"And how could she bear such behaviour! Composure with a witness!
to look on, while repeated attentions were offering to another woman,
before her face, and not resent it.--That is a degree of placidity,
which I can neither comprehend nor respect."
"There were misunderstandings between them, Emma; he said
so expressly. He had not time to enter into much explanation. He
was here only a quarter of an hour, and in a state of agitation
which did not allow the full use even of the time he could stay--
but that there had been misunderstandings he decidedly said. The
present crisis, indeed, seemed to be brought on by them; and those
misunderstandings might very possibly arise from the impropriety
of his conduct."
"Impropriety! Oh! Mrs. Weston--it is too calm a censure. Much,
much beyond impropriety!--It has sunk him, I cannot say how it has
sunk him in my opinion. So unlike what a man should be!-- None of
that upright integrity, that strict adherence to truth and principle,
that disdain of trick and littleness, which a man should display
in every transaction of his life."
"Nay, dear Emma, now I must take his part; for though he has
been wrong in this instance, I have known him long enough to answer
for his having many, very many, good qualities; and--"
"Good God!" cried Emma, not attending to her.--"Mrs.
Smallridge, too! Jane actually on the point of going as governess!
What could he mean by such horrible indelicacy? To suffer her to
engage herself-- to suffer her even to think of such a measure!"
"He knew nothing about it, Emma. On this article I can fully
acquit him. It was a private resolution of hers, not communicated
to him--or at least not communicated in a way to carry conviction.--
Till yesterday, I know he said he was in the dark as to her plans.
They burst on him, I do not know how, but by some letter or message--
and it was the discovery of what she was doing, of this very project
of hers, which determined him to come forward at once, own it all
to his uncle, throw himself on his kindness, and, in short, put
an end to the miserable state of concealment that had been carrying
on so long."
Emma began to listen better.
"I am to hear from him soon," continued Mrs. Weston.
"He told me at parting, that he should soon write; and he spoke
in a manner which seemed to promise me many particulars that could
not be given now. Let us wait, therefore, for this letter. It may
bring many extenuations.
It may make many things intelligible and excusable which now are
not to be understood. Don't let us be severe, don't let us be in
a hurry to condemn him. Let us have patience. I must love him; and
now that I am satisfied on one point, the one material point, I
am sincerely anxious for its all turning out well, and ready to
hope that it may. They must both have suffered a great deal under
such a system of secresy and concealment."
"His sufferings," replied Emma dryly, "do not appear
to have done him much harm. Well, and how did Mr. Churchill take
it?"
"Most favourably for his nephew--gave his consent with scarcely
a difficulty. Conceive what the events of a week have done in that
family! While poor Mrs. Churchill lived, I suppose there could not
have been a hope, a chance, a possibility;--but scarcely are her
remains at rest in the family vault, than her husband is persuaded
to act exactly opposite to what she would have required. What a
blessing it is, when undue influence does not survive the grave!--
He gave his consent with very little persuasion."
"Ah!" thought Emma, "he would have done as much
for Harriet." "This was settled last night, and Frank
was off with the light this morning. He stopped at Highbury, at
the Bates's, I fancy, some time--and then came on hither; but was
in such a hurry to get back to his uncle, to whom he is just now
more necessary than ever, that, as I tell you, he could stay with
us but a quarter of an hour.-- He was very much agitated--very much,
indeed--to a degree that made him appear quite a different creature
from any thing I had ever seen him before.--In addition to all the
rest, there had been the shock of finding her so very unwell, which
he had had no previous suspicion of-- and there was every appearance
of his having been feeling a great deal."
"And do you really believe the affair to have been carrying
on with such perfect secresy?--The Campbells, the Dixons, did none
of them know of the engagement?"
Emma could not speak the name of Dixon without a little blush.
"None; not one. He positively said that it had been known
to no being in the world but their two selves."
"Well," said Emma, "I suppose we shall gradually
grow reconciled to the idea, and I wish them very happy. But I shall
always think it a very abominable sort of proceeding. What has it
been but a system of hypocrisy and deceit,--espionage, and treachery?--
To come among us with professions of openness and simplicity; and
such a league in secret to judge us all!--Here have we been, the
whole winter and spring, completely duped, fancying ourselves all
on an equal footing of truth and honour, with two people in the
midst of us who may have been carrying round, comparing and sitting
in judgment on sentiments and words that were never meant for both
to hear.--They must take the consequence, if they have heard each
other spoken of in a way not perfectly agreeable!"
"I am quite easy on that head," replied Mrs. Weston.
"I am very sure that I never said any thing of either to the
other, which both might not have heard."
"You are in luck.--Your only blunder was confined to my ear,
when you imagined a certain friend of ours in love with the lady."
"True. But as I have always had a thoroughly good opinion
of Miss Fairfax, I never could, under any blunder, have spoken ill
of her; and as to speaking ill of him, there I must have been safe."
At this moment Mr. Weston appeared at a little distance from the
window, evidently on the watch. His wife gave him a look which invited
him in; and, while he was coming round, added, "Now, dearest
Emma, let me intreat you to say and look every thing that may set
his heart at ease, and incline him to be satisfied with the match.
Let us make the best of it--and, indeed, almost every thing may
be fairly said in her favour. It is not a connexion to gratify;
but if Mr. Churchill does not feel that, why should we? and it may
be a very fortunate circumstance for him, for Frank, I mean, that
he should have attached himself to a girl of such steadiness of
character and good judgment as I have always given her credit for--
and still am disposed to give her credit for, in spite of this one
great deviation from the strict rule of right. And how much may
be said in her situation for even that error!"
"Much, indeed!" cried Emma feelingly. "If a woman
can ever be excused for thinking only of herself, it is in a situation
like Jane Fairfax's.--Of such, one may almost say, that `the world
is not their's, nor the world's law.'"
She met Mr. Weston on his entrance, with a smiling countenance,
exclaiming,
"A very pretty trick you have been playing me, upon my word!
This was a device, I suppose, to sport with my curiosity, and exercise
my talent of guessing. But you really frightened me. I thought you
had lost half your property, at least. And here, instead of its
being a matter of condolence, it turns out to be one of congratulation.--I
congratulate you, Mr. Weston, with all my heart,on the prospect
of having one of the most lovely and accomplished young women in
England for your daughter."
A glance or two between him and his wife, convinced him that all
was as right as this speech proclaimed; and its happy effect on
his spirits was immediate. His air and voice recovered their usual
briskness: he shook her heartily and gratefully by the hand, and
entered on the subject in a manner to prove, that he now only wanted
time and persuasion to think the engagement no very bad thing. His
companions suggested only what could palliate imprudence, or smooth
objections; and by the time they had talked it all over together,
and he had talked it all over again with Emma, in their walk back
to Hartfield, he was become perfectly reconciled, and not far from
thinking it the very best thing that Frank could possibly have done.
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