Unfortunately, Emma contracted a chill during the long drive back from
the wedding, and in spite of, or perhaps, rather as a result of the
various remedies with which she was treated, she was still very far
from strong when Sam took her over to Wickstead, and left her in the
care of Elizabeth.
With what mingled feelings did not Emma view once more the scene where
she had spent one of the happiest evenings of her life. Once again,
in fancy, she was received by Mr. Howard with all that particularity
which had assured her that the entertainment had been arranged with
a sole view to enjoying her society. Once again as she entered the
dining-parlour, she saw herself at his side, and heard the raillery
of his voice as he combated her cherished opinions--from no personal
conviction as she had been well aware, but in order to draw her into
friendly combat. In the evening afterwards, perhaps she alone had been
conscious of his vexation at Miss Osborne's intrusion; and she had also
divined his intention of retaining her as his neighbour at cards. The
moment of parting was also present with her.
But more to her than all these memories was that of the fateful moment
at the ball, when he had begged her to return him the rose he had given
to her. Even now it so moved her that she endeavoured to refrain from
dwelling on it. Yet how had she been so vain, so foolish, as to have
mistaken an ordinary flirtation of a man of the world, for an emotion
of a deeper character? For there could no longer be any doubt in her
mind with respect to him. He had simply been amusing himself, he had
had no intentions with regard to her. Nor had he in any way stepped
beyond the limits of convention--blame rested solely with herself. Her
former experience of life, slight as it had been, should have taught
her that all men of breeding and fashion are more or less adepts at
flirting--unless indeed they are scarcely to be tolerated.
Sweet and unselfish as was Emma's nature, the perfect happiness of
Elizabeth and Henry Purvis, in a setting so pregnant of another--where
every article of furniture seemed to speak of that other--could not but
make her sensible of a feeling of bereavement; nor could she withhold
her wayward fancy from depicting herself, and that other, as playing
the part of her sister and brother-in-law, in their daily life.
Lord Osborne had rejoined his regiment, but Lady Osborne, to the
surprise of all, continued to remain on at the Castle, instead of going
up to the family town house. Tom Musgrave was as much to the fore as
ever, and as busily occupied in impressing his own importance wherever
he went, and Mary Edwards drove over at once to welcome Emma. Happening
by accident to mention Sam, she gave Emma the opportunity of telling
her that Mr. Curtis had formally declared him his heir, for which she
was rewarded by a quick blush.
A ball was to take place shortly at the Assembly Rooms, and the Edwards
were anxious that Emma should come to them for it, but as can readily
be supposed it was almost the last entertainment she would have cared
to attend. Elizabeth, however, relieved her from all embarrassment by
saying that she did not desire her to go out at night till she was
recovered from a cough which had troubled her for some time.
It was not till the end of the month that she took her to a party,
given by Mrs. Stephenson, of Ashley Park. Emma had no sooner entered
the drawing-room, and before ever her eyes had rested on his tall
figure, than she was aware of the presence of Mr. Howard.
Following Elizabeth, she was slightly screened by her, and although
they passed within no great distance of him, as he appeared to be
looking the other way, she was able to persuade herself, for a short
time, that he had not observed her. But it was impossible she should
long continue in this belief. The moments were as hours to her, when,
presently, as he was conducting a lady into the room beyond, he was
obliged to come quite close to her, and recognition was inevitable. He
merely bowed and passed on.
Emma had never sought to disguise her feelings from herself, but how
deeply her heart was engaged she had not realised until that moment,
when she felt that it must break.
A minute or two later Mr. Howard grew aware of a sudden commotion, and
then heard it said that a lady had fainted.
Instinctively he knew that it was Emma--and almost immediately, he knew
not how, had reached her side. Motioning everyone away, he raised her
in his arms, and carried her out to the hall, where there was a couch,
but just before he laid her down she opened her eyes, and there was no
mistaking the look of deep joy which flashed into them, as she saw him
bending over her.
"Emma--my dearest Emma!"
He could say no more, as they were instantly joined by Mrs. Stephenson
and Elizabeth; other guests--some impelled by solicitude, and some by
curiosity--quickly following.
These, however, were quietly got rid of by their hostess, who at the
same time directed the servants to bring restoratives, and soon Emma
was able to sit up. She remained so pale and shaken, however, that
Mrs. Stephenson begged her to remain all night; but this was steadily
opposed by Elizabeth, who was anxious to bring her back with her, and
as Emma herself joined in begging to return, the carriage was sent for.
At this moment Henry, who had just heard of Emma's indisposition, came
hurrying up, and assisted in conveying her home.
On the following morning Mr. Howard rode over to Wickstead, and,
meeting Emma in the shrubbery, declared his passion.
She could not speak, but she laid her trembling hands in his.