And Who Can Be In Doubt Of What Followed Page 9

  Emma could wish for some of Miss Bates’ optimism regarding her prospects, which were beginning to appear grim. Neither of the Mr. Knightleys had the heart to broach the subject again with Mr. Woodhouse, as one could not wish to be subjected to another round of gruel, leaving Emma to carry forth her cause virtually unaided. As she was undoubtedly the most skilled handler of her father, this state of affairs had not at first overly troubled her. Though her once perfect confidence in her ability to manage the hearts of others had been sadly shaken, she still retained faith in her capacity to see to her own, or at least so she told herself. She and George (a name that still sat awkwardly on her tongue) had determined their marriage ought to be concluded while John and Isabella were still at Hartfield, as their presence would allow the newlyweds a fortnight's absence to tour the seaside in way of a honeymoon, but as the days slipped by, September making way for October, and Mr. Woodhouse continued unhappy, Emma’s courage began to fail. She could not bear to see him suffering – to know him fancying himself neglected – and though her understanding almost acquiesced to the assurances of both the Mr. Knightleys that when once the event was over, his distress would soon be over too, she hesitated. As she could not proceed to urge him when it caused him so much pain, the once resourceful young woman was left with little recourse but to hope that some unforeseen event would intercede on her behalf.

  **********

  Fate, so unaccountable and never to be relied upon, will on occasion prove surprisingly accommodating. I fear that the fervency of Emma's hopes had little to do with their fulfillment, and action is always more dependable than desire in the achievement of one's goals, but as, in this particular case, action, persuasion, and even mild coercion had all proved equally ineffective in moving Mr. Woodhouse, it is highly felicitous that Fate chose to intervene on our heroine's behalf.

  The mechanism through which the marriage of Miss Woodhouse to Mr. Knightley was enabled to proceed was as auspicious as a man wearing one sandal. News of the couple's good fortune (though they little recognized it at the time) was first relayed to Emma by the new Mrs. Martin, in the course of her wedding visit to Abbey-Mill Farm. With great joy did she show Emma her new domain, not forgetting the smaller parlor, the summer-house, and most particularly, the Welch cow that was now truly Harriet's own. Mr. Woodhouse and Isabella were not asked to brave the pasturage, instead enjoying the comforts of the large parlor with the dowager. While the apple tart offered to Mr. Woodhouse in way of refreshment caused him no little concern for the fate of the bride's digestive tract in her new surroundings, even Mr. Woodhouse had to admit, upon their departure, that “poor Miss Smith” seemed happily settled. The only true care that marred Harriet's marriage, thus far, was what appeared to be an attempt to break in to the Martin's poultry-yard. William Larkins, always attentive, had heard a disturbance and investigated before any damage occurred, and it was largely believed by the residents of Donwell that the incident was either the work of a fox, or that of a young rascal. As no harm had been done, the occurrence was not deemed of significance, and Emma was careful not to allow it to come to Mr. Woodhouse's ears. She did, however, discuss it at length with Mr. Knightley, who had taken the measure of increasing surveillance on both his property and at Hartfield, just in case more mischief arose.

  Fortunately, it did. Rain on the next morning prevented Mr. Woodhouse from risking his horses on a trip to Randalls, but as the skies cleared in the afternoon, Hartfield was honored with a most loquacious visitor.

  “My dear sir, how are you this morning? Quite dreadful weather, is it not? And Miss Woodhouse, Mr. and Mrs. Knightley, how does this day find you? The children are well, I am sure! Young Henry and John quite made mother's day when you were so obliging as to bring them by. She does so love children. Have you heard the news? Shocking, that such things could occur in Highbury! Never was I more taken aback. When Mrs. Cole told me I was stunned, thoroughly stunned! What can one say upon hearing such news? And I hear that the Perrys, the Coxs, and the Westons all suffered similar intrusions. What can one do, Miss Woodhouse? Such goings on are unheard of, except on that one occasion, of so many years ago, when Mr. Johnson – you remember our old curate, do you not, Mr. Woodhouse? – when Mr. Johnson mislaid the tithes, and we were all convinced they had been stolen, but then they were found again, and in the most unusual location, though I cannot recall where. I must ask my mother, as she will surely remember.”

  Though no real sense of what the shocking news Miss Bates was trying to convey was thus attainable, the content of her speech was sufficient to cause a most alarmed look upon Mr. Woodhouse's face. Emma hesitated to seek clarity, remembering her determination to be patient with Miss Bates, but she had just reached the point of intervening, lest her father suffer apoplexy, when her brother-in-law performed that office on the lady’s behalf.

  “Am I to understand, Miss Bates, that some sort of burglary has taken place?”

  “Burglary, Mr. Knightley? I'm not sure that is the word I would have chosen, as it does convey a sense of housebreaking, does it not? I do not want to cause any undo alarm, and no person has been molested in last night's occurrences. A chicken cannot be thought a person, but it is most certainly true that several poultry-yards have been pilfered, and that all of Mrs. Weston's turkeys are gone!”

  “Oh dear me,” cried Isabella, heedless of the impact of her words upon her trembling father. “What is to be done? We hear of such happenings in London, of course, but never in the vicinity of Brunswick Square! Are we not safe in my own home, John? What about the children?”

  “Calm my dear. There is a dramatic difference between a pilfered chicken coop and a housebreak. As Miss Bates just explained, a chicken cannot be thought a person, and therefore it cannot claim similar rights and privileges under the law.”

  “I do not see the difference,” declared an extremely pale Mr. Woodhouse. “Oh dear! Why, this is dreadful! Poor Mrs. Weston! And Perry! Are none of us beyond reach of such assault? Poor Mrs. Weston, and dear little Miss Weston! If Randalls is vulnerable, can any house be sound?”

  “My dear sir,” assured his son-in-law, setting aside his amusement in the wake of Mr. Woodhouse’s distress, “be not alarmed. Surely George has already been informed of the situation, and if he does not apprehend the culprits he will certainly insure that no such further events can occur within his jurisdiction. If the perpetrators are local, they will most certainly be caught, and if they are not, they are undoubtedly hurrying themselves as far from this neighborhood as they can get, in order to avoid arrest. They will not return.”

  Both Isabella and Mr. Woodhouse seemed somewhat assuaged by his words, but Emma was still hurrying to have the fire built up, and securing an additional blanket for her father, knowing very well that his physical comfort would contribute directly to his mental well-being. While a housemaid saw to her mistress' immediate orders, Emma was on the verge of taking it upon herself to procure refreshments, of precisely the nature to most alleviate her father's tremors, when Miss Bates uttered these highly felicitous words: “How comforting to you, Mr. Woodhouse, must be the knowledge of our good Mr. Knightleys' protection. With either in the house, you surely have nothing to fear.”

  Never had a pronouncement of Miss Bates' resonated so well with Emma. Against all her previous endeavors, so calculated to restore her father's calm, she now spoke to heighten his alarm. “Indeed, Papa, we must be grateful that John and Isabella are with us at such a time, but what, sir, are we to do when they must return to London? I believe you may only remain with us until November, is that not correct?”

  John, always quick to comprehend, and in no doubt that Emma was fully aware of their intended departure time, rallied to her cause. “Yes, I must get back to my offices, but surely my brother is capable of seeing to Hartfield's safety from Donwell. Why, it is not more than a mile away.”

  “A mile away, sir!” cried the distraught Mr. Woodhouse. “At a distance of a mile, in no telling what sort of weather, how m
ight your brother be of service?”

  “But surely Miss Woodhouse and Mr. Knightley do not intend to wait so very long before marrying?” Miss Bates asked. “I was of the opinion, that is I understood, that there were no great reasons for delay. When young people of good fortune are in love, there is no need to wait.”

  Emma could have embraced Miss Bates. Never before had she so appreciated that lady's lack of perception, nor found it so to the point! Mr. Woodhouse, although taken aback by his old friend's words, was quick to adopt the idea. “Yes, Emma dear, you must speak to Mr. Knightley at once. I know you feel no haste to marry, for how could anyone so comfortably situated as you wish to alter their state, my dear, but there must be no delay.”

  “Mr. Knightley, as you recall, sir, will be dining with us this evening. I will certainly take the opportunity to discuss the situation with him. I foresee no reason why he should not be happy to comply with your wishes. He is always so concerned for your comfort, Papa.”

  “Indeed, my brother is most self-sacrificing. And if you can manage your arrangements promptly, Emma, perhaps you and he might even be able to take that journey to the seaside you discussed, and all before Isabella and I need to depart.”

  “The seaside! I do not know why Emma would wish to journey so far from Hartfield, but if anyone can manage an affair with speed, it is certainly my Emma,” Mr. Woodhouse defended his daughter from the perceived slight, torn between his conviction of her perfections and a rooted dislike of travel, but it was enough to secure her happiness. The wedding would take place as planned, and the event would, remarkably, bring her father relief rather than distress. Never had lost poultry so pleased.

  **********

  It took all of Emma's notable contrivance to greet her fiancé alone that evening, but being determined to share with him the good news herself, it was well worth the exertion. Her father was easily left in his usual chair in the parlor, happily ensconced near a comfortable fire. John and Isabella needed only to be asked and happily joined Mr. Woodhouse there. But as for the many nieces and nephews, whose presence at Hartfield Emma had never before begrudged, it took no little amount of stratagem to ensure they were safely employed in the nursery and not underfoot. For the little ones the feat was not so monumental, a simple game of spillikins, to which she had abandoned them, serving to suffice, but Henry and John proved far more difficult to manage. Emma was ashamed to admit that she had at last resorted to bribery, but no other means in her arsenal proved effective, the boys rather desiring to tell Uncle George of the man they had dubbed the “fowl thief” themselves. She would pay the price on the morrow, no doubt spending what Mr. Woodhouse would deem an unconscionable amount of time gallivanting around the park on whatever adventure the boys devised. Yet as that was tomorrow's concern, she relished her ability to usher Mr. Knightley into one of the smaller sitting rooms as soon as he arrived for dinner, in order to indulge in a few precious moments alone.

  “Emma, my dear, what is all this? Not that I am sorry to find you alone, but you look as if you might burst with news. What is it?”

  “You have of course heard of the events of last night, have you not Mr. Knightley?”

  “I presume you refer to the mysterious disappearance of poultry from the neighborhood?”

  “Precisely. You have no notion how advantageous this event has been in our favor.”

  In fact, Mr. Knightley had a very good notion. He had met Miss Bates in Highbury following her visit to Hartfield, and that good lady made short work of Emma’s contrivances, as she quickly spread the word throughout the neighborhood. Most of the residents duly rejoiced, except for Mrs. Elton, who continued to lament Mr. Knightley's fate. Mrs. Weston was quite tempted to disregard both weather and missing turkeys to rush to Hartfield and express her joy, but Mr. Knightley's timely arrival at Randalls prevented this occurrence, as, accurately convinced Emma would be quite anxious to impart their good fortune herself, he convinced the good lady that revealing how widespread the knowledge was would ruin some of the excitement for her favorite. However, as he had no intention of betraying his lack of ignorance on the subject, he replied quite convincingly, “Indeed? How could such an unfortunate act possibly bring any one good? It has already been the cause of a great deal of inconvenience to myself, as I was forced to spend the day investigating the matter, when I had much rather have spent it with you.”

  At this Emma laughed. “Oh yes, I am sure, as if William Larkins would not have had something to say about such a notion. He must already deplore our engagement as the downfall of Donwell. You neglect your duties for Hartfield, and marriage will only worsen the matter.”

  “William is not my keeper, despite what you think, Emma, and what duty has gone neglected, may I ask?”

  “I am sure Mr. Larkins would be quite happy to furnish a list of offenses if pressed, Mr. Knightley.”

  “Well, we had best not importune him in that case, and do call me George, Emma.”

  “Very well, George, I will try, but the habits of a lifetime cannot be expected to disappear overnight. But you have distracted me from my purpose. The incident at Randalls quite over set my father's piece of mind, as you can well imagine. Miss Bates broke it upon him most unceremoniously, and I was rather vexed with the creature, as I am sure you may well imagine, until she made everything right, and more so. Never before has she stood so high in my good graces. We are eternally indebted to her.”

  “Are we indeed?” he responded with an amused smile. “And how has this miracle occurred?”

  “When Miss Bates first arrived and rambled on for several minutes about shocking going-ons, intrusions, and long forgotten mysteries, I felt all my old impatience for her. My father was notably upset, and I was bent on putting an end to conversation posthaste until she burst out with the least silly thing I have ever heard her say, informing Papa what comfort it must be to him to have the Mr. Knightleys in residence for protection. Well, he clung to this notion so fiercely that he practically ordered me to marry at once! Now what have you to say to my fine news?”

  Mr. Knightley laughed and embraced Emma, “I have merely to ask what stretch of ocean it most behooves you to visit. My dear Emma, these are superior tidings! And to think we owe it all to Miss Bates! I always knew you would come to appreciate her one day.”

  “She has performed for us a most invaluable service. I had already resolved to never say another uncharitable thing about her again, but now that I am quite in her debt, I shall rather sing her praises to the entire neighborhood. I will make a point of visiting her regularly, and on the day she expects her letter from Jane Fairfax, too, that she may enjoy the felicity of both describing all of its content as well as reciting the note itself, and I will be thankful to have brought her the opportunity of doing so.”

  Such altruistic feelings on his intended's part only doubled Mr. Knightley's gratitude that she remained ignorant of the rapidity with which Miss Bates had managed to spread her announcement. “But where shall we go, Emma? You who have traveled so very little must have a particular notion as to our destination.”

  “Well, while Papa is now thoroughly reconciled, even desirous, of our expeditious union, he is not so enthused about the notion of my traveling. We had best not venture too far, so as to spare his nerves some anxiety, though we are all so well aware of Mr. Perry's predilection for Cromer. Besides, John and Isabella must depart by November, so we haven't much time for a long journey.”

  “True. Shall I consult with Perry as to his nearest recommendation?”

  “I think I had rather that we choose a location ourselves and then inform Mr. Perry of how salubrious he finds it, before sharing our plans with my father.”

  “Brilliant notion. What shall it be then? Brighton? Mrs. Elton will be all envy.”

  Emma made a face. “I think we can enjoy ourselves quite thoroughly without engaging Mrs. Elton's better instincts. Though Brighton should be growing quieter at this time of year, I think some place rather less showy mig
ht better fit our tastes, do you not agree?”

  “You know I do. Personally, I had much rather go to Worthing. Still very fashionable and elegant, but not the crush it was a few years ago. To travel there would be easy, and as I have a friend residing in the district, we can receive very good guidance as to where to stay. Besides, as I have never been there either, we will be discovering it together, which notion rather pleases me.”