"I hope Frank has not had an accident," said Mrs. Weston. "I thought he would have been here by now. I am worried about his horse."
"The black mare? As safe a horse as ever I saw," said Weston, coming up. "Depend on it, it is his aunt."
I had no chance to speak to Emma alone before lunch, but afterwards she declared she would stay indoors with her father. I saw my chance, and having seen to the comfort of my guests outside, I returned to the Abbey. I had resolved to call her out of the room on some pretext so that I could see her for a few minutes alone, for I was growing weary of waiting for such an opportunity to arise. As I walked through the hall, I rehearsed my speech:
Emma, we have known each other a long time…. Emma, I must speak to you….
I cannot stay silent any longer. Emma, I am in love with you….
I shook my head. None of those openings satisfied me, and I decided I would have to trust to the genius of the moment. I opened the door…and found that Churchill had arrived.
There he was, the one person in the world to whom I did not wish to offer any hospitality, sitting in my house and talking to my Emma.
I was so displeased that I excused myself as soon as I could, for fear of saying something rude. I found Harriet once more alone, and went over to her, meaning to press Robert Martin’s suit, but instead I found myself talking about Churchill.
"What right has he to come so late, and then to inform no one of his arrival?" I said, finding in Harriet a willing listener.
"None," she said, with a shake of the head.
"He did not even tell the Westons, and poor Mrs. Weston has been worrying about him all morning. And then to sit with Emma! What business has he doing that, instead of making himself known to his host?"
"None at all," she said.
"And Emma sees nothing wrong in it." I was about to say that I feared his influence on her would not be a good one, when I recollected myself and remembered that I was talking to her friend.
"But tell me, what have you been doing? Have you been enjoying the Abbey grounds?" I asked her, all thoughts of Robert Martin having been driven out of my mind by my own concerns.
As she spoke to me about her delight in the gardens, I found my thoughts returning to Emma, and I knew that I must be careful to guard my tongue. If I said anything more about Frank Churchill, it would look like jealousy - not surprisingly, for it is jealousy. I wish he had never been born.
The party at last broke up. Miss Fairfax had left earlier in the day, in case her grandmother wanted her, and Emma and her father kindly took Miss Bates home in their carriage. Harriet went with them, the Westons soon following. The Eltons stayed as long as possible, with Mrs. Elton congratulating me on the fish-ponds, the strawberry-beds, the lime-walk, indeed anything that would allow her to remain a minute longer. At last she had exhausted every possible topic of conversation and was obliged to leave, saying she was looking forward to the morrow.
The morrow! I do not know whether I am looking forward to it or not. It might give me a chance to speak to Emma, but my hopes are dwindling. She seemed very thick with Churchill today. I wish I knew what her feelings were.
I have no wish to see Churchill paying court to her tomorrow, but it will hurt me more if I should stay away, for then I will not see her at all.
But I will not lose heart. The black mare might go lame, or Mrs. Churchill might detain him, and then Frank Churchill will not join us at all.
Friday 25 June
I was up at daybreak, and oversaw the start of the clover-cutting before getting ready to go to Box Hill. The day was fine, and we had a good journey. Whether we were tired from yesterday’s enjoyments or languid because of the heat I do not know, but there was a lack of spirit in the party.
I myself was in despair. Churchill spent most of the day with Emma, and I had no chance to speak to her alone. I spent my time with Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax. I was, at least, able to be of assistance in helping Miss Fairfax repel Mrs. Elton’s overtures.
We strolled about until it was time for our picnic. Then, indeed, there was more liveliness in the party, though I liked it less than I had liked the insipidity of the morning, for Churchill made Emma the object of his attentions. His double-dealing continued when he directed sly glances at Miss Fairfax, however, and I could not think what he was about. Whatever it was, he did not behave like a gentleman.
Emma did not seem to notice anything amiss, and flirted with him in the most painful way; painful to me, as I am in love with her more every day. For, despite her follies and freaks, from which no one of us is immune, she is the only woman for me.
Her flirting grew worse. It was beyond anything I had seen, and I dreaded where Frank Churchill’s influence would take her.
He became more and more extravagant in his speech, and if I had not spent the morning with him, and known he had not touched any wine, I should have suspected that he was drunk.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse (who, wherever she is, presides) to say, that she desires to know what you are all thinking of."
Emma smiled at this mixture of flattery and silliness, instead of looking disgusted, as she should have done, and I replied curtly: "Is Miss Woodhouse sure that she would like to hear what we are all thinking of?"
I looked at her intently, knowing she would not like my thoughts.
"Oh! no, no," she cried, laughing carelessly. "Upon no account in the world. It is the very last thing I would stand the brunt of just now. Let me hear anything rather than what you are all thinking of. I will not say quite all. There are one or two, perhaps," - glancing at Mr. Weston and Harriet - "whose thoughts I might not be afraid of knowing."
Well might she say so. They never find fault with anything she does, but to have such uncritical friends is not good for anyone.
"It is a sort of thing which I should not have thought myself privileged to enquire into," cried Mrs. Elton, not at all pleased with the turn the conversation had taken, though her anger was mostly caused by the fact that she was not the centre of attention.
There was whispering from Frank Churchill, and Emma showed no disgust at his behaviour, as she would have done had anyone else whispered in company. Instead she went on smiling. He then said that Emma - making her the source for all his proclamations - demanded a clever saying from everyone.
"Or two things moderately clever - or three things very dull indeed," he said extravagantly, "and she engages to laugh heartily at them all."
"Oh! very well," exclaimed good Miss Bates, "then I need not be uneasy. “Three things very dull indeed.” That will just do for me, you know. I shall be sure to say three dull things as soon as ever I open my mouth, shan"t I?"
I was just about to say, "Not at all," and I saw Mrs. Weston about to do the same, when Emma said:
"Ah! ma"am, but there may be a difficulty. Pardon me, but you will be limited as to number - only three at once."
I could not believe it. Instead of reassuring Miss Bates that her contributions to the conversation were always valued, she insulted her in front of all her friends; worse still, in front of her niece. I felt sick with it. She would never have said such a thing before meeting Frank Churchill!
Miss Bates did not realize what Emma had said, and I was about to divert her attention by offering her another slice of pie when I saw her face change and knew I was too late.
"Ah! well - to be sure. Yes, I see what she means," she said, turning to me. I will try to hold my tongue. I must make myself very disagreeable, or she would not have said such a thing to an old friend."
I was mortified, yet Emma continued to smile and Weston went on with the conversation as though nothing was wrong. Weston! Who should have shown her what he thought of such conduct by a frown.