The question next day was how soon the visit could with propriety be
returned. Mr Watson supplied the answer by saying that on Wednesday
only could the horse be spared. The next question might have been
settled with equal dispatch if Mr Watson had spoken first, but it often
pleased him to speak last. To Margaret there was no difficulty; she
would drive Emma to Wickstead, she was sure that Emma could not drive.
Emma was convinced that Elizabeth must go. It was a first visit, and
Elizabeth was the eldest. It would be more proper for Elizabeth to go.
Elizabeth was herself anxious to go, and so was easily persuaded of its
importance, but Emma must go; the visit had been paid specially to her.
“But then I cannot go,” Margaret complained. “Why am I to be left out?
If Elizabeth goes because she is the eldest, I have the best right to
go too when Pen is away, for I am older than Emma.”
“Would not the chair hold three?” asked Emma. “Margaret is so slight,
and I am not large. I am sure we could all sit.”
“I dare say you could,” said Mr Watson, “but you would all have to
sit in the stable-yard, for the old mare would not draw you. No! if
Margaret wants to go, she must wait till next time. If you pay visits
at all, you shall pay them properly.”
Margaret’s subsequent ill-humour had little effect on Miss Watson;
she had borne with it too much and too long; but Emma found that the
projected visit must be paid for, and hoped that it might be worth the
price.
Mr Watson, looking out of his window next morning, saw a sprinkling
of snow, and signs of a cold wind, felt one twinge of gout and feared
more. Elizabeth knew enough about the horse and chair to shiver in
anticipation. Emma, who had run to the window, felt some apprehension.
Margaret’s room was as cold as any, but _she_ felt considerable
satisfaction as she looked out, for the choice before her sisters was
either a very cold drive, or a thoroughly disappointing fireside.
There was some discussion at breakfast, but failing a decision from
Mr Watson, Emma’s wishes prevailed. They started, and the snow, which
had threatened, began to fall, though not until they were in sight of
Osborne Castle and the Parsonage of Wickstead.
Elizabeth was far from comfortable. Added to the cold was a sense
of nervousness and inferiority which she had seldom before felt.
There had been too little intercourse to arouse such a feeling, but
now the Castle loomed behind the Parsonage, and Miss Osborne behind
Mrs Blake. She wished herself at home. Emma wished only to find the
Parsonage family at home, and her fear was the more practical and
well-founded one of a heavy snowfall, which would make their return
journey even more unpleasant. The entrance gate, the short approach,
the maid-servant, the hall, all appeared exceedingly neat, and even
a little disconcerting to Elizabeth, but to Emma it was her father’s
house and surroundings which had seemed so unusual.
On being admitted into the parlour, they found Mrs Blake alone. She
received them with cordiality, and they had been seated but a very
short time before their hostess was enquiring what she might order for
their comfort. In spite of all denials, a tray was brought in, and hot
wine and cake were found to be indeed refreshing. The visitors _should_
have been satisfied. A warm fire, refreshment and pleasant company
_should_ satisfy after a cold drive. It must be admitted, however, that
no sooner was Emma warmed and comforted than, like the rest of mankind,
she was conscious of wanting more. She had, however, hardly time to
reprove herself for the wish before he was in the room, and informing
them that their horse was in the stable, and their chair in the shed.
In the intervals of conversing with Mrs Blake, Elizabeth noted with
admiration with what ease Emma chatted with the tutor and friend of
Lord Osborne.
At the end of half an hour the sisters, after glancing at one another,
rose to go. Mr Howard walked to the window and declared their departure
to be quite impossible.
“The snow is getting quite deep,” he said, “and the wind is rising.”
Elizabeth replied that this made their speedy departure the more
necessary. Mrs Blake, with cordial urgency, opposed any immediate
decision, and was of the opinion that after dinner the weather would be
more propitious. Elizabeth objected that by that time it would be dark.
“Which,” said Mr Howard, “altogether settles the matter. You must
resign yourselves to stay the night, and I will dispatch a messenger to
Stanton to bring peace of mind to Mr Watson.”
All were now at the window, and the prospect of driving and deepening
snow made Mrs Blake’s next words welcome.
“There is no sort of difficulty. I can provide everything. Indeed, my
dear Miss Watson, it is not to be thought of. How can you suppose that
we could go back to our fire, and imagine you driving such a distance
on such an afternoon?”
There were some protests, but the brother and sister were agreed, and
all opposition was overborne.
“This,” opined Mr Howard, “is the way in which all such pleasant calls
should end. Now we can be really comfortable.”