"Ay, my wife was just such a woman," said Mr. Longridge.
There was more in this vein, and it was a relief when the evening was over. Poor Emma! I wonder how she will endure it, having to listen to nothing but Elton and his betrothal, and then Elton and his wedding, and then Elton and his bride.
Wednesday 17 February
Mrs. Weston gave a dinner party this evening for Elton. His betrothal has excited much interest, and I had to listen to his further recitals of Augusta’s perfections.
Emma was one of the party, and I watched her as Elton poured forth the details of his happy love affair. He could not refrain from several triumphant glances in Emma’s direction, and I believe she had an uncomfortable time of it.
"We met by accident - quite by accident," Elton was saying. "I shudder to think what might have become of me had I not come across my dear Augusta quite by chance. It was a happy fate that took me to Bath. I was much taken with Augusta, and I could not forget her, so you can imagine my delight when we met, again by chance. It was at Mr. Green’s - Green is an estimable fellow, who keeps a very fine table. I was looking forward to my evening, but for one thing: I could not forget the face of the lady I had encountered by accident the day before. And then, who should be announced but Miss
Hawkins, and she was the lady I had seen!"
There was a murmur of surprise and approval.
"Not such an unlikely coincidence, considering you were both in the same town," said Weston good-naturedly.
"But to be there on the same day?" said Elton. "When I think that I might have missed her by one evening - the whole course of my life would have been different."
And so he went on.
"And what do you think of this betrothal of Elton’s?" I asked Emma, when I could find her alone.
I wondered if she would admit to trying to catch him for little Harriet. She has never told me so. Indeed, when I mentioned it, she declared quite the opposite. But I am convinced it was so. I wondered, too, if she would admit that he made love to her in the carriage on Christmas Eve.
But she admitted nothing. She said only: "From all he says, Miss Hawkins seems to be a handsome and accomplished woman. I wish them both very well."
Well done, Emma! I thought with admiration.
Elton’s triumphant glances in her direction, his dwelling on his beloved’s dowry and her connections at Maple Grove, had all been intended to humiliate her, but they had not done so. She had risen above them, and behaved perfectly. Not even such a shameful display on Elton’s part had been enough to make her petty-minded, or to prompt her to say something rude about Augusta Hawkins.
And that is why, though I am frequently exasperated by her, and often despair of her, I always find Emma endearing.
Saturday 20 February
Elton has at last departed for Bath, and we are left in peace. It is a busy time of year at the Abbey with the sheep. The weather is not propitious, as we have had more snow, but my shepherds know their job, and I hope we will have a good number of lambs this year.
Monday 22 February
I called on Miss Bates this morning as business took me into Highbury, but she was out, and I found that old Mrs. Bates was alone. It was difficult to talk to her, as she is growing rather deaf, but I gathered that Miss Bates was helping Mr. Longridge to choose a house, and that Miss Fairfax had gone with them.
Mr. Longridge had wanted a woman’s opinion, it seems, as he knows little about the arrangement of kitchens and so forth, and Miss Bates had been happy to oblige.
I am sure his motive in asking for her help was kindness: Miss Bates, with her own small establishment, knows little of houses.
I liked him even more when I discovered that he had prevailed upon Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax to agree to dine with him afterwards, at a small country inn, in company with the Otways and the Coles.
He would have taken Mrs. Bates as well, but she had preferred to remain indoors, knitting by the fire.
And so, he had arranged to provide Miss Bates and her niece with an enjoyable day, and with a meal into the bargain.
It is a pity that I did not see Miss Fairfax, but as she is to be with us for some time, there will be plenty of other opportunities for me to speak to her.
Tuesday 23 February
The weather grows worse, and it was with difficulty that I managed to walk to Hartfield after dinner this evening, but I did not want to neglect my friends. I found Emma and her father sitting with Harriet.
I have grown used to finding Harriet there, and it was welcome this evening, as it meant that Emma and I could play backgammon without worrying that her father would be bored. He had Harriet to sit with him, and she read him Isabella’s latest letter again: little George had a cold, the baby was growing rapidly, and Henry was making good progress with his reading.
"I called on Miss Bates this morning," she said.
"And you are wanting me to praise you for it," I said.
"No. If I want flattery, I know I must look elsewhere!"
We began to play.
"And did you find Miss Fairfax at home?" I asked her.
"I did. She had just returned from the post office. If I had called half an hour sooner, I would not have seen her."
"And did you still find her reserved?"
"Yes, I did. I found it very difficult to have a conversation with her. She listened politely to everything I had to say, and she answered every question I put to her, but she volunteered nothing.
"Perhaps she had nothing to volunteer."
"Nothing to volunteer, when she has been away from us for two years? What of all her news? Talk of her friend and her friend’s wedding? Of the Campbells, and her life with them? Of her time at Weymouth, and her adventure on the boat? I am sure that could occupy half an hour at least."
"I thought she had told you something of her friend’s wedding a few days ago?"
"She did, but only when I asked her outright for information."
There was something in her tone which gave me pause.
"What mischief are you brewing now?" I asked.
She looked at me innocently.
"You are a very suspicious man, Mr. Knightley. What makes you think I would be brewing mischief?"
"Experience," I remarked.
"It is sometimes very inconvenient to talk to someone I have known all my life," she said playfully.
"It is also very unfair. It gives you an advantage. You know all about my childhood freaks, and I know nothing about yours."
"That is because I never had any!" I returned.
She laughed.
"What is it, my dear?" asked her father, looking up from the letter.
"Mr. Knightley says he had no childhood freaks."
"I am sure he did not," said her father. "I have known Mr. Knightley all his life, and he has never suffered from freaks. A better man it would be hard to find. Why, even as a boy he was very well-mannered. I remember him saying to me, when I had had a cold: “I am sorry to hear you have not been well. I hope you are recovered?” and he was only five years old."
I did not remember this evidence of my childhood virtues, but I said: "There you are," to Emma none the less.
"I believe I will ask John about you and find out the truth the next time I see him," she returned. "I cannot believe you led a blameless childhood. I am sure you had your share of mischief."
"As he is unlikely to visit us before the summer, I am not afraid."
"Summer will come," she said, "and I will be waiting!"
"You are incorrigible," I told her, and she laughed.
It was a very happy evening, and I came home well-pleased with life.
Wednesday 24 February