I called on Miss Bates today, and found Mrs. Goddard there. They were talking of Mr. Longridge as
I was shown in.
"A very fine man," Miss Bates was saying. "It was so sad for him to lose his wife. It was twenty years to the day yesterday, he was felling me, and he’s never forgotten her, poor man, but so kindhearted! He came to see if mother and I had enough coal. He is in the way of it, though I am not sure how. I think it was something to do with canals, though what canals have to do with coal I am sure I do not know. Why, here’s Mr. Knightley."
I enquired after her health, and the health of her mother and Miss Fairfax.
"Well, I thank you," she said. "We are all well."
I thought, perhaps, Miss Fairfax looked a little better. She was not so pale as previously, although this could have been because she was sitting nearer the fire, and the heat was giving her cheeks a ruddy glow. She was helping her grandmother wind wool.
Mrs. Cole was talking about the dinner party she means to give. Ever since her husband provided her with a new dining-room, she has been longing to entertain.
"I have ordered a screen from London, in the hope that Mr. Woodhouse might be prevailed upon to join us. I know he does not go out as a rule, but we would be honoured if he would condescend to visit us, and I thought, perhaps, if he was properly sheltered from draughts, he and Miss Woodhouse might accept our invitation," said Mrs. Cole.
So Mrs. Cole is planning to invite Emma to her dinner party. It will be interesting to see how Miss
Woodhouse of Hartfield reacts!
Thursday 25 February
It was good to dine out again, at the Otways, as problems with the accounts, heavy weather and troubles with the sheep have kept me at the Abbey for some time, except when I have been dining at Hartfield.
There was the usual talk before dinner. Mr. Longridge had seen two houses near Highbury, but neither of them had been suitable. Three Chimneys had had a dark hall, and Whitestone had had a very small garden.
"Hardly big enough to put a seat in, let alone have friends round in the summer. I like a garden," Mr. Longridge said.
Weston seemed very happy. He said nothing, but he and Mrs. Weston have been married for some months, and I think we might soon have news that another Weston is on the way. Mrs. Weston was not there this evening, as she was indisposed, lending credence to my idea.
At the end of the evening, Weston and I walked home together until our paths diverged. He told me he was still hoping to see his son in Highbury, but until such time, he was finding comfort in talking of Frank to Miss Fairfax.
"It was fortunate her meeting him at Weymouth," he said to me. "She has been able to tell me how he looked, and what he said and did. She is more nervous than I remember her, though," he said with a frown. "Every time I asked her a question she blushed before she answered."
Perhaps it is just because her spirits are low, but I suspect another reason for her embarrassment. I think it possible that Frank Churchill did not please her. If he is what I think he is, he was probably condescending to her or her friend. She would not wish to say so to Mr. Weston, of course, which is why she was embarrassed.
I did not tell Weston what was going through my mind. He might as well think his son is perfect for as long as he can.
Friday 26 February
I have discovered Emma’s reaction to the Coles" plan to invite her to their dinner party. I do not know where she heard of it, though I suspect the news came from Mrs. Weston, via Weston and Cole, but she has already decided she will not go.
"Who are the Coles?" she asked in a superior voice, as we played chess, whilst her father ate a bowl of gruel.
"They are your neighbours," I said.
"But of such low origin, in trade!"
"You dine with Harriet every night without knowing anything about her antecedents. I would not be surprised if she had a dozen relatives in trade," I reminded her, for as Harriet was absent for once, I felt it possible to speak honestly.
"That is quite different," said Emma.
"How so?"
"Because, as you say, I know nothing about her antecedents. Her father might be a shopkeeper, though I doubt if a shopkeeper could produce such a charming daughter, but he might equally well be a prince," she said in all seriousness.
"Oh Emma!" I said, shaking my head. "Not even you can think something so ridiculous."
"I do not see why it is ridiculous."
"Because a prince would never leave his daughter at Mrs. Goddard’s!"
"Mrs. Goddard’s school is a very refined establishment," she said mischievously, but she was forced to laugh. "Well, perhaps not a prince," she acknowledged, moving her piece. "Nothing quite so grand."
"A duke, perhaps?"
"Pay attention to your game," she admonished me. "You are about to make a disastrous move."
"Disastrous for you," I said, making my move.
"Not a duke, perhaps, but a baron or baronet. I think it only too likely. Someone who has a position to maintain, and enough money to ensure Harriet’s happiness."
"I hope you are not filling her head with this nonsense," I remarked.
"I am encouraging her to think well of herself, if that is what you mean. I do not want to see her fade into oblivion for lack of someone to bolster her confidence. A girl with a sweet disposition and a pretty face should be entitled to think well of herself."
"Have a care, Emma. There is a fine line between confidence and self-deception. If you encourage her to think her father is a baron, and he turns out to be a shopkeeper, what then?"
She looked uncomfortable.
"I am only trying to help her."
"You are not helping her by filling her head with conceit. I thought you would have learnt your lesson about interfering by now."
"I want what is best for her, that is all," she said, but she did not meet my eye.
"Then let her be happy, in her own way."
She gave a laugh, but she abandoned the subject of her friend, saying: "But we were not speaking of Harriet, we were speaking of the Coles."
"Very good, unpretending people," I returned. "They are respectable, and well thought of by their neighbours. Their business has prospered, and their style of living is now second only to Hartfield."
"That is exactly what I mean. What business have they living in such style? It is proof, if proof were needed, that they are only moderately genteel. To have them presume to invite the best families to dinner! If you will be guided by me, you will send them your regrets and you will stay at home."
"I shall do nothing of the kind, and Weston will not refuse the invitation either."
"Then it is up to me to show them the error of their ways. Nothing shall tempt me to go, and my only regret is that my father’s habits are so well-known that they might not ascribe my refusal to the real reason; by which I mean to say, they might think it is because Papa does not like to dine out, rather than realizing it is because their invitation is presumptuous."
I shook my head, smiling.
"The Coles are very respectable in their way, but they ought to be taught that it is not for them to arrange the terms on which the superior families will visit them," she said majestically. "Standards must be maintained. I could not possibly go to one of their dinner parties."
"You need not worry about it. I doubt if they will invite you," I said, to puncture her conceit.
She looked surprised and then displeased, and I laughed. She did not want to go, because she believed it would be beneath her dignity, but she did not want to be neglected, either!
We finished the game. I won, which did not please her, but as she is as good a player as I am, the next time we play, the positions will probably be reversed.
Saturday 27 February