She shook her head.
"Is it a horse?"
She shook her head again,
"What then?"
"Papa!" she cried.
I looked at it from every direction, and discerned an eye and a mouth.
"A very good likeness. I like it even better than your aunt Emma’s portrait of Papa. You have caught his expression beautifully."
Bella was delighted, and we settled down to a comfortable family evening. Mr. Woodhouse seemed to have accepted our dining at the Westons" as a settled thing, and a few more cheerful conversations on the subject reconciled him to going out on a cold, dark evening.
As I walked home, I found I was looking forward to it.
Wednesday 23 December
I had Horrocks find our skates, so that by the time John joined me with the children, I was ready to take them down to the stream.
John and I showed the boys how to fasten the skates, helping them as they needed it, and then we all ventured on to the ice. The weather was perfect for our enterprise. The air was cold, but not biting, and a weak sun shone down on our faces. The exercise was invigorating, so that we all returned to Hartfield with hearty appetites.
After taking tea, Emma proposed charades. Isabella fell in with the suggestion readily enough. Harriet seemed lethargic, but was compliant. The children went up to the attic with Emma and Isabella, and came down with an armful of clothes. There was great hilarity as Bella put on an old dress of Isabella’s, which was far too big for her, and walked round in her mother’s shoes, which were also far too large. In vain did Emma, Harriet and Isabella try to persuade her to part with her treasures, and tempt her with other, more suitable, clothes!
The children were too young to understand much of it, but they liked dressing up, and the rest of the party enjoyed the game.
The first charade took us some time to guess. It began with Isabella and the children sitting down, throwing something through the air. A great deal of laughter was produced by our false guesses, until John guessed that they were fishing, and we arrived, by circuitous route, at "river-bank". A moment’s further thought showed us the word was simply "bank". Emma then came in dressed as a queen.
Mr. Woodhouse could offer no guesses, being more concerned with Emma’s beauty, and for myself I had to agree, for I have always found her face and form to be more pleasing than any other I have ever seen.
I could not immediately see the significance, until I thought again of the first syllable, and realized the word was "bank-note", with Emma being a woman of note.
By the time the game was over, it was obvious why Harriet was so lethargic. She was suffering from a cold. She said that she must return to Mrs. Goddard’s, and Emma would not hear of it, saying she could not allow her friend to leave the house. But Harriet begged to be allowed to be nursed by Mrs. Goddard, so the carriage was sent for, and Harriet was conveyed home.
Mr. Woodhouse was anxious all evening, hoping Harriet might not take a turn for the worse, but offering tragic tales of colds that had turned to pneumonia, leading to early graves. Isabella watched her children anxiously, lest one of them should have also taken cold. She and her father argued about the cures recommended by their respective physicians, and Emma sensibly decided to take the children up to the nursery. John and I retreated behind our newspapers, and let Isabella and her father have their argument in peace.
Thursday 24 December
John had an opportunity to warn Emma about Elton’s attentions today, though whether she has taken the hint he does not know. He chanced to meet them both this morning, when he was returning from the Abbey with the boys. Emma seemed very solicitous of Elton, John told me, which alarmed me, until I had heard the full tale. She had tried to persuade him that he had a cold, and that he should not go to the Westons this evening as he was not well enough.
"Elton did not know what to say," said John. "He had no sign of a cold that I could see, yet he did not want to contradict her."
"I see her purpose! She wanted him to spend the evening thinking of her little friend, and perhaps calling in at Mrs. Goddard’s to ask after Miss Smith, instead of dining at Randalls."
"I thought you said that Elton was in love with Emma, not Harriet?" asked John with a frown.
"Not in love. I said his ambition tended in that direction. But they are at cross-purposes. Emma’s ambitions are in a different quarter. She thinks that he will marry her friend."
"What! The parlour boarder?"
"Yes."
"Has Emma taken leave of her senses?" he asked.
"The girl is pretty."
"And so are a hundred other girls. He has only to go to Brighton, or Bath, to find plenty of well-born, pretty young ladies with a handsome dowry, who would not turn down a handsome vicar."
I brought him back to the point, asking if he had warned Emma, and learning that he had.
"And what did she reply?" I asked.
"That I was mistaken. That she and Mr. Elton were friends and nothing more."
"Foolish girl! Well, she has been warned. If he proposes now, at least it will not take her entirely by surprise."
"He will not get a chance tonight," John said. "I have offered to take him in my carriage. And once at the Westons he will get no time alone with her."
I was reassured. Even so, I had followed Emma’s progress with such interest, for so many years, that I was curious to know what the evening would bring.
When I arrived, the first party from Hartfield was already there. Isabella and Mr. Woodhouse were sitting by the fire, waiting for Emma, Elton and John.
Emma’s party soon followed, and Emma greeted Mrs. Weston fondly. I have always been glad of the affection they share.
Emma took a seat, and Mr. Elton sat next to her. He was very solicitous, asking her if she was warm enough, asking if her father were comfortable, and crowning it by calling attention to some of her drawings, which hung in Mrs. Weston’s drawing-room.
"Remarkable," he said. "Such a way with line. Quite exquisite. You are fortunate to have them, Mrs.
Weston."
Mrs. Weston agreed, but Emma looked uncomfortable. I guessed that Elton’s flattery was not to her taste. Either that, or my brother’s caution had given her pause, and she was now considering whether he could be right, and whether Mr. Elton’s object could be herself.
She did not have long to think of it, however, for the subject of Frank Churchill was soon raised.
"We want only two more to be just the right number. I should like to see two more here, your pretty little friend, Harriet, and my son, and then I should say we were quite complete," said Weston. "I believe you did not hear me telling the others in the drawing-room that we are expecting Frank?" he went on, growing expansive as he addressed Emma. "I had a letter from him this morning, and he will be with us within a fortnight."
"Oh, yes, that would be perfect," said Emma with genuine enthusiasm.
She, along with the rest of Highbury, has long been wondering about Frank Churchill.
"He has been wanting to come to us, ever since September," said Weston, "but he cannot command his own time. He has those to please who must be pleased, and who (between ourselves) are sometimes to be pleased only by a good many sacrifices. But now I have no doubt of seeing him here about the second week in January."
Emma spoke of his son at length to Weston. She could not say too much to please him.
After dinner the ladies withdrew, and Mr. Woodhouse went with them. He has no interest in business or politics, and sees his attendance as a compliment to the ladies.
When they had departed, we talked of the parish and the war, our farming troubles and our hopes for the coming year. Weston was convivial, resisting any effort to break up the gentlemen by passing the port again. He liked nothing better than to have a group of friends round his table.