Emma (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) (50 page)

“My father tried it more than once, formerly, but without receiving any benefit; and Mr. Perry, whose name, I dare say, is not unknown to you, does not conceive it would be at all more likely to be useful now.”

“Ah! that’s a great pity; for I assure you, Miss Woodhouse, where the waters do agree,
¹⁴
it is quite wonderful the relief they give. In my Bath life, I have seen such instances of it! And it is so cheerful a place, that it could not fail of being of use to Mr. Woodhouse’s spirits, which, I understand, are sometimes much depressed. And as to its recommendation to
you,
I fancy I need not take much pains to dwell on them. The advantages of Bath to the young are pretty generally understood. It would be a charming introduction for you, who have lived so secluded a life; and I could immediately secure you some of the best society in the place. A line from me would bring you a little host of acquaintance; and my particular friend, Mrs. Partridge, the lady I have always resided with when in Bath, would be most happy to show you any attentions, and would be the very person for you to go into public with.”

It was as much as Emma could bear, without being impolite. The idea of her being indebted to Mrs. Elton for what was called an
introduction-of
her going into public under the auspices of a friend of Mrs. Elton’s,—probably some vulgar, dashing widow, who, with the help of a boarder, just made a shift to live!—The dignity of Miss Woodhouse, of Hartfield, was sunk indeed!

She restrained herself, however, from any of the reproofs she could have given, and only thanked Mrs. Elton coolly; “but their going to Bath was quite out of the question; and she was not perfectly convinced that the place might suit her better than her father.” And then, to prevent further outrage and indignation, changed the subject directly.

“I do not ask whether you are musical, Mrs. Elton. Upon these occasions, a lady’s character generally precedes her; and Higbury has long known that you are a superior performer.”

“Oh! no, indeed; I must protest against any such idea. A superior performer!—very far from it, I assure you: consider from how partial a quarter your information came. I am doatingly fond of music—passionately fond; and my friends say I am not entirely devoid of taste; but as to any thing else, upon my honour my performance is
médiocre
to the last degree. You, Miss Woodhouse, I well know, play delightfully. I assure you it has been the greatest satisfaction, comfort, and delight to me, to hear what a musical society I am got into. I absolutely cannot do without music; it is a necessary of life to me; and having always been used to a very musical society, both at Maple Grove and in Bath, it would have been a most serious sacrifice. I honestly said as much to Mr. E. when he was speaking of my future home, and expressing his fears lest the retirement of it should be disagreeable; and the inferiority of the house too—knowing what I had been accustomed to—of course he was not wholly without apprehension. When he was speaking of it in that way, I honestly said that the world I could give up—parties, balls, plays—for I had no fear of retirement. Blessed with so many resources within myself, the world was not necessary to me. I could do very well without it. To those who had no resources it was a different thing; but my resources made me quite independent. And as to smaller-sized rooms than I had been used to, I really could not give it a thought. I hoped I was perfectly equal to any sacrifice of that description. Certainly, I had been accustomed to every luxury at Maple Grove; but I did assure him that two carriages were not necessary to my happiness, nor were spacious apartments. ‘But,’ said I, ‘to be quite honest, I do not think I can live without something of a musical society. I condition for nothing else; but, without music, life would be a blank to me.’ ”

“We cannot suppose,” said Emma, smiling, “that Mr. Elton would hesitate to assure you of there being a
very
musical society in Highbury; and I hope you will not find he has outstepped the truth more than may be pardoned, in consideration of the motive.”

“No, indeed, I have no doubts at all on that head. I am delighted to find myself in such a circle: I hope we shall have many sweet little concerts together. I think, Miss Woodhouse, you and I must establish a musical club, and have regular weekly meetings at your house, or ours. Will not it be a good plan? If
we
exert ourselves, I think we shall not be long in want of allies. Something of that nature would be particularly desirable for
me,
as an inducement to keep me in practice; for married women, you know—there is a sad story against them, in general. They are but too apt to give up music.”

“But you, who are so extremely fond of it,—there can be no danger, surely.”

“I should hope not; but really, when I look round among my acquaintance, I tremble. Selina has entirely given up music;—never touches the instrument, though she played sweetly. And the same may be said of Mrs. Jeffereys—Clara Partridge that was,—and of the two Milmans, now Mrs. Bird and Mrs. James Cooper; and of more than I can enumerate. Upon my word, it is enough to put one in a fright. I used to be quite angry with Selina; but, really, I begin now to comprehend that a married woman has many things to call her attention. I believe I was half an hour this morning shut up with my housekeeper.”

“But every thing of that kind,” said Emma, “will soon be in so regular a train—”

“Well,” said Mrs. Elton, laughing, “we shall see.”

Emma, finding her so determined upon neglecting her music, had nothing more to say; and, after a moment’s pause, Mrs. Elton chose another subject.

“We have been calling at Randalls,” said she, “and found them both at home; and very pleasant people they seem to be. I like them extiemely. Mr. Weston seems an excellent creature—quite a first-rate favourite with me already, I assure you. And
she
appears so truly good,—there is something so motherly and kind-hearted about her, that it wins upon one directly.—She was your governess, I think.”

Emma was almost too much astonished to answer; but Mrs. Elton hardly waited for the affirmative before she went on.

“Having understood as much, I was rather astonished to find her so very lady-like. But she is really quite the gentlewoman.”

“Mrs. Weston’s manners,” said Emma, “were always particularly good. Their propriety, simplicity, and elegance would make them the safest model for any young woman.”

“And who do you think came in while we were there?”

Emma was quite at a loss. The tone implied some old acquaintance, and how could she possibly guess?

“Knightley!” continued Mrs. Eiton;—“Knightley himself! Was not it lucky? For, not being within when he called the other day, I had never seen him before; and of course, as so particular a friend of Mr. E.‘s, I had a great curiosity. ‘My friend Knightley’ had been so often mentioned, that I was really impatient to see him; and I must do my cara sposo
^v
the justice to say, that he need not be ashamed of his friend. Knightley is quite the gentleman; I like him very much. Decidedly, I think, a very gentlemanlike man.”

Happily, it was now time to be gone. They were off, and Emma could breathe.

“Insufferable woman!” was her immediate exclamation. “Worse than I had supposed. Absolutely insufferable! Knightley!—I could not have believed it. Knightley!—never seen him in her life before, and call him Knightley!—and discover that he is a gentleman! A little upstart, vulgar being, with her Mr. E. and her
caro
sposo, and her resources, and all her airs of pert pretension and underbred finery. Actually to discover that Mr. Knightley is a gentleman! I doubt whether he will return the compliment, and discover her to be a lady. I could not have believed it! And to propose that she and I should unite to form a musical club! One would fancy we were bosom friends! And Mrs. Weston!—Astonished that the person who had brought me up should be a gentlewoman! Worse and worse. I never met with her equal. Much beyond my hopes. Harriet is disgraced by any comparison. Oh! what would Frank Churchill say to her, if he were here? How angry and how diverted he would be! Ah! there I am—thinking of him directly. Always the first person to be thought ofl How I catch myself out! Frank Churchill comes as regularly into my mind!”—

All this ran so glibly through her thoughts, that by the time her father had arranged himself, after the bustle of the Eltons’ departure, and was ready to speak, she was very tolerably capable of attending.

“Well, my dear,” he deliberately began, “considering we never saw her before, she seems a very pretty sort of young lady; and I dare say she was very much pleased with you. She speaks a little too quick. A little quickness of voice there is which rather hurts the ear. But I believe I am nice; I do not like strange voices; and nobody speaks like you and poor Miss Taylor. However, she seems a very obliging, pretty-behaved young lady, and no doubt will make him a very good wife. Though I think he had better not have married. I made the best excuses I could for not having been able to wait on him and Mrs. Elton on this happy occasion; I said that I hoped I should in the course of the summer. But I ought to have gone before. Not to wait upon a bride is very remiss. Ah! it shows what a sad invalid I am!—But I do not like the corner into Vicarage-lane.”

“I dare say your apologies were accepted, sir. Mr. Elton knows you.”

“Yes: but a young lady—a bride—I ought to have paid my respects to her if possible. It was being very deficient.”

“But, my dear papa, you are no friend to matrimony; and therefore why should you be so anxious to pay your respects to a
bride?
It ought to be no recommendation to you. It is encouraging people to marry if you make so much of them.”

“No, my dear, I never encouraged any body to marry, but I would always wish to pay every proper attention to a lady—and a bride, especially, is never to be neglected. More is avowedly due to
her:
A bride, you know, my dear, is always the first in company, let the others be who they may.”

“Well, papa, if this is not encouragement to marry, I do not know what is. And I should never have expected you to be lending your sanction to such vanity-baits for poor young ladies.”

“My dear, you do not understand me. This is a matter of mere common politeness and good-breeding, and has nothing to do with any encouragement to people to marry.”

Emma had done. Her father was growing nervous, and could not understand
her:
Her mind returned to Mrs. Elton’s offences, and long, very long, did they occupy her.

E
mma was not required, by any subsequent discovery, to retract her ill opinion of Mrs. Elton. Her observation had been pretty correct. Such as Mrs. Elton appeared to her on this second interview, such she appeared whenever they met again,—self-important, presuming, familiar, ignorant, and ill-bred. She had a little beauty and a little accomplishment, but so little judgment that she thought herself coming with superior knowledge of the world, to enliven and improve a country neighbourhood; and conceived Miss Hawkins to have held such a place in society as Mrs. Elton’s consequence only could surpass.

There was no reason to suppose Mr. Elton thought at all differently from his wife. He seemed not merely happy with her, but proud. He had the air of congratulating himself on having brought such a woman to Highbury, as not even Miss Woodhouse could equal; and the greater part of her new acquaintance, disposed to commend, or not in the habit of judging, following the lead of Miss Bates’s good-will, or taking it for granted that the bride must be as clever and as agreeable as she professed herself, were very well satisfied; so that Mrs. Elton’s praise passed from one mouth to another as it ought to do, unimpeded by Miss Woodhouse, who readily continued her first contribution, and talked with a good grace of her being “very pleasant, and very elegantly dressed.”

In one respect Mrs. Elton grew even worse than she had appeared at first. Her feelings altered towards Emma.—Offended, probably, by the little encouragement which her proposals of intimacy met with, she drew back, in her turn, and gradually became much more cold and distant; and though the effect was agreeable, the ill-will which produced it was necessarily increasing Emma’s dislike. Her manners too—and Mr. Elton’s, were unpleasant towards Harriet. They were sneering and negligent. Emma hoped it must rapidly work Harriet’s cure; but the sensations which could prompt such behaviour sunk them both very much.—It was not to be doubted that poor Harriet’s attachment had been an offering to conjugal unreserve, and her own share in the story, under a colouring the least favourable to her and the most soothing to him, had in all likelihood been given also. She was, of course, the object of their joint dislike.—When they had nothing else to say, it must be always easy to begin abusing Miss Woodhouse; and the enmity which they dared not show in open disrespect to her, found a broader vent in contemptuous treatment of Harriet.