Punctually the next day, Mr. Bridge drove to the door, and at the same
moment Mr. Morgan entered the house. Emma was in the parlour quite
ready for her journey, and her eye sparkled with pleasure as she told
him that she should not trouble him to call on her again, for she was
leaving Croydon for a long time. He looked aghast.—
"Going away," was his exclamation, as he cast an enquiring eye at the
trunk which Mr. Bridge's man was preparing to place on the carriage.
"This is quite unexpected—may I ask where you are going?"
"It is Mr. Bridge who is taking me away," replied Emma, "and really I
can hardly answer as to _where_ we are going. I am wishing to try a
change of air, as I do not find Croydon agree with me."
"This is Mr. Bridge's doing then," said he, his face turning pale with
an emotion which she did not understand. He felt convinced that his
plans had been seen through and counteracted, and entertained, in
consequence, anything but a feeling of gratitude towards the agent of
his disappointment. At this moment the clergyman entered, and claimed
Emma's company, and after an affectionate farewell from Miss Watson,
and a formal bow from the doctor, she was hurried away. The other two
ladies were out walking, as Jane was determined not to countenance
Emma's departure by her presence on the occasion. Emma felt so very
much relieved as she lost sight of Croydon, and entered on a country
quite new to her, that she fancied she was deriving fresh health and
strength from every breath she inhaled. She was, however too weak to
bear much conversation, and was content to lie back in peace and
silence in a corner of the carriage, quietly reposing on the cushions
with which she had been carefully propped, and enjoying the luxury of
seeing the varying landscape pass before her eyes, without making any
exertion. Mr. Bridge was reading; and in this way the fourteen miles
were pleasantly and quickly passed, and in about two hours from
leaving Croydon, they stopped at the door of Miss Bridge's residence.
It was a small, old-fashioned house, with a thick screen of shrubs
surrounding it, and a few picturesque old Scotch firs standing on the
little grass plat which divided the front from the road. The walls
were covered with creeping shrubs, and it was evident that the owner
loved flowers, for early as it was in the year, the little porch was
crowded with showy plants, and odoriferous with the scent of the
hyacinth, narcissus and other sweet bulbs. The old lady came out to
receive them, and the warmth of her welcome, with the kindness of her
manner, quite won Emma's heart at once. She saw that her guest was
fatigued, and would not allow her to exert herself in any way; but
leading her upstairs, made her rest on the bed, and left her promising
to return in a short time. The air of comfort which now surrounded
Emma, was truly grateful to her feelings; the airy and well-furnished
bed-room, the snowy curtains and drapery round the bed, the
comfortable furniture, all seemed to bespeak an attention to her
wants, to which she had long been a stranger; and as she lay there
thinking over all that was past, and wondering what was to come next,
a deep feeling of gratitude stole over her heart for finding herself
at last in so peaceful and apparently comfortable a home.
Faithful to her promise, Miss Bridge returned speedily, bringing with
her some refreshment, of which she insisted on Emma's partaking; and
then desiring her to remain quiet for a couple of hours at least, she
returned to her brother, and spent the interval in learning every
particular that he could detail relative to her interesting young
visitor.
When Emma woke from a refreshing slumber of several hours duration,
the first object which met her eyes was the countenance of Miss Bridge
bending over her. There was such a look of benevolent interest in that
good-tempered face, as would have sufficed to redeem a very plain set
of features from the charge of insipidity. But Miss Bridge was very
far from plain, and it was evident she must have been eminently
handsome. She was extremely thin, and her high features, and dark
complexion made her look, perhaps, rather older than she really was,
but her eyes which were dark hazel were still bright and lively. Her
dress was that of an old woman, the colours grave, and the materials
rich, and though not exactly in the reigning fashion of the day, yet
sufficiently like it to prevent any appearance of singularity, whilst
it was perfectly becoming her age and station. Emma felt sure that she
should like her exceedingly, and quite longed to be strong enough to
converse with her. She was found so much better as to be permitted to
leave her room, and lie for a time on the sofa in the drawing-room,
though Miss Bridge still proscribed conversation, and recommended
quiet and rest.
Everything that she saw gave her an idea of the comfort of her new
home; the well-filled book-shelves especially delighted her; she had
enjoyed so little time for reading lately that the sight of such a
collection of books was a most welcome prospect, and she anticipated
with satisfaction the time when she should be able to exert herself
again, and commence the acquisition of the Italian language; as she
was extremely anxious to increase her information and accomplishments
to the utmost.
The next day the old clergyman took his leave, and telling Emma not to
fret about her friends at Croydon, and hoping when he came over next
month, he should find her with rosy cheeks and smiles to welcome him,
he went off quite satisfied that he had secured a comfortable home for
his young friend, and a desirable companion for his old sister.
Nothing could be more peaceful and pleasant to a contented mind than
the course of life in which Emma now engaged. She speedily recovered
her strength, and was able by early rising to enjoy several hours
alone in the morning, which she devoted to study; by this means she
was always at liberty to give her whole attention to Miss Bridge so
soon as they met in the drawing-room. Their fore-noons were employed
in reading and needlework, unless when Miss Bridge was writing letters
or settling her household matters. Walking out, or working in the
garden occupied the afternoon, and in both these occupations, as soon
as Emma was strong enough, she took great delight. The garden was
cultivated with uncommon care; Miss Bridge having quite a passion for
floriculture, and Emma thought nothing could exceed the beauty of her
tulips, anemones and hyacinths, as they gradually unfolded their
blossoms. She became extremely interested in the pursuit, and Miss
Bridge more than once had to interfere to prevent her over tiring
herself by her zealous labours.
The country round their residence was extremely pretty; tracts of old
forest land with the huge old trees, survivors of many centuries,
formed an agreeable contrast to the agricultural districts
interspersed in places; and the steep sides of some of the chalky
hills were clothed with hanging beech woods equally picturesque with
the green forest glades beneath. To wander over this scenery,
botanising amongst the lanes and hedgerows, or visiting the various
cottages in the neighbourhood, formed a delightful variety to their
labours in the garden. Emma found that next to the clergyman, Miss
Bridge was looked up to as the guardian and friend of the poor.
Every wounded limb, or distressing domestic affliction was detailed to
her. Her advice was sought equally when the pig died, the baby was
born, or the husband was sick. Her medicine-chest was in frequent
requisition, but her kitchen and dairy still more so. For one dose of
rhubarb which she dispensed, she gave away at least two dinners, and
those well acquainted with the poor may judge whether by so doing she
was not likely to prevent as much illness as she cured; for by far the
greater part of the diseases amongst the labouring classes arise from
scanty food and too thin clothing. Of course she was the idol, the
oracle of all the villagers, and the more so because there was no
squire nor squire's family in the parish to diminish her importance or
dim the lustre of her position. In fact she was the sister of the last
squire, and since his death, as his eldest son resided on another
property, the manor-house had stood empty and deserted. It quite
grieved Emma to see it, for the house with its gable-ends and
old-fashioned porch was very picturesque; but they derived one
advantage from the desolate condition in which it was left, as they
had the uncontrolled range of the gardens and pleasure-grounds, which
were very extensive. The little church stood within these grounds, and
by its situation somewhat reminded her of Osborne Castle. But how
different was the Rector. He was an old, formal bachelor, living with
an unmarried sister, extremely nervous and shy, and more remarkable
for his total disregard to punctuality than any other point. This was
peculiarly evident on the Sunday, when the whole congregation were
always assembled at least a quarter of an hour before his appearance
amongst them. If the day was fine, they did not enter the church but
remained strolling up and down the pasture in which it stood, until
the minister appeared and led the way into the sacred building. The
congregation, which was almost entirely composed of the rural
population, presented a very different aspect from that at Croydon;
there were few smart bonnets, and the gayest articles of apparel in
the church were the scarlet cloaks of the women. The dark and
old-fashioned building itself had no ornaments but the hatchments
belonging to the Bridge family, and one or two ugly and cumbrous
monuments upon the walls, which seemed intended to record that certain
individuals had been born and died, though what they did when living
was now totally forgotten.
When the service was concluded, the clergyman quitted the pulpit and
walked out before all his congregation, who stood up respectfully to
let him pass, and then Miss Bridge and Emma, who had their seat in the
squire's pew, followed before any one else presumed to stir from their
places: there was then a friendly greeting between the Rector and his
principal parishioners, after which they took their quiet way
homewards, to partake of their early dinner, and return to the
afternoon service.
Such was the tenor of Emma's life, whilst she remained with Miss
Bridge—the only incident that varied the scene, was a drive over to
Croydon one day, in order to attend Margaret's wedding. Emma had
recovered her strength so rapidly, that she was perfectly equal to the
exertion, and Margaret had sent a pressing invitation not only to her,
but to Miss Bridge likewise. It was, therefore, settled that they
should go and spend the night at the vicarage, as Robert Watson's
house was quite full—with the addition of some cousins of his wife,
who were paying a visit. In consequence of this arrangement, she did
not see her future brother-in-law that day; but Elizabeth spent the
afternoon with them. She saw, with sincere pleasure, how much Emma was
improved in looks—she was plumper and fresher—more blooming and
bewitching than ever; and so thought Mr. Morgan too—for he likewise,
called to see her—and was quite startled with the alteration in her
appearance.
"I need not ask you _how_ you are," said he, fixing on her eyes which
spoke his admiration as plainly as if he had put it into words; "you
are looking _so_ well."
Emma was forced to turn away, for the expression of his face was too
openly admiring to be pleasant.
Elizabeth had a long chat with her in private: there was so much to
learn about her new way of life, and so much to tell in return, that
it seemed as if four and twenty hours instead of two, might have been
talked away with ease. There was much to discuss about Margaret's
prospects; Elizabeth was very little satisfied with Tom Musgrove, and
only wondered that her sister appeared so well pleased as she did. He
was careless and cold—almost to insolence—and had, evidently, tried to
annoy her in every way he could; flirting with every girl who came in
his way, and only shewing that he was not careless to her feelings, by
his repeated attempts to wound them. To all this she seemed perfectly
indifferent—whether from vanity, she really did _not_ see, or from
wilful blindness she _would_ not perceive his meaning, Elizabeth could
not tell; but she always continued to preserve a most satisfied air;
and when slighted by Tom, sought peace and contentment in the
contemplation of her wedding presents and bridal finery; constantly
talking as if she enjoyed the unlimited affection of the most amiable
and agreeable man in the world.
"And who do you think appeared amongst us last week?" continued
Elizabeth, "actually Lord Osborne! Ah! you color and look pleased—and
well you may—for I have no doubt Croydon would never have seen his
countenance, if he had not thought you still living here!"
"Lord Osborne!" said Emma astonished, "what brought his lordship
here—do you know?"
"The ostensible reason, was to bring a present to Margaret from his
sister—a very pretty necklace as a wedding present; but the real
reason, I have not the smallest doubt was, to see you—and had he not
supposed you were still here, the parcel might have come by the coach,
for any trouble he would have given himself about it."
"It was very good-natured of Miss Osborne, to remember Margaret in
that way," said Emma, "how pleased she must have been."
"Yes, I think she was—it seemed even to put Tom in a better humour
with her and every thing—it gave her a sort of consequence."
"What did Lord Osborne say?" enquired Emma, hoping to hear something
relative to Mr. Howard.
"Oh! we had a long talk together, and he enquired particularly about
you, and where and how you were; and he said he hoped very soon to see
you. He talked about expecting you to visit his sister; in short, he
seemed to have a great deal to say for himself—and really for _him_,
was quite agreeable. To be sure, I do not think him quite so pleasant
as George Millar, but every body need not have my taste of course."
"Well, I should like to have seen him—did he say nothing about our
friends, Mrs. Willis and her brother—how are they?"
"He said, what I was sorry to hear, that Mr. Howard appeared ill and
out of spirits. I wonder what can be the matter with him—do you think
he can be in love?"
"I am not in his confidence," said Emma, coloring deeply.
"You will see him, of course," said Elizabeth, "if you go to Osborne
Castle—be sure and let me know what you think of him, then; do
ascertain if he is in love."
"You had better make observations for yourself, Elizabeth," replied
her sister, "how can I judge of a sentiment with which I am
unacquainted; wait till you visit Margaret, and you will be able to
form your own opinions."
"I do not think I shall ever visit Margaret," replied Elizabeth; "so
if I do not see Mr. Howard under any other circumstances, our chance
of meeting is but small."
The wedding-day was as bright and sunshiny as any bride could desire.
Emma's thoughts wandered from Margaret and her companions to the
bridal party in London, who she imagined would be engaged in the same
ceremony about the same hour. She knew Mr. Howard was to officiate for
her friend, and she tried to picture the scene to herself; then she
imagined another group, where Mr. Howard himself should perform the
part of bridegroom; and wondered what her own feelings would be if she
were the witness of such a spectacle.
She was ashamed of herself when she recalled her mind from this
vision, and she tried to think of something more appropriate to the
occasion. She joined in the prayers for her sister's happiness, but
her heart trembled as she thought of her prospects; however, it was no
use foreboding evil—she tried to hope for the best.
Margaret was not satisfied with her two sisters as bridesmaids, but
both she and Tom had insisted on having four more from amongst her
intimate friends. One of these was the younger Miss Morgan, and as a
compliment to her, her brother was invited to be of the party to
church. He stood by Emma; but she was unconscious of it, until, when
the ceremony was concluded, and there was a general congratulation,
and kissing going on, she felt her hand clasped by some one, and on
her turning round, he whispered in her ear,—"When shall you stand in
your sister's place?"
Before she had time to answer, or even to understand exactly what he
had said, her new-made brother came up and claimed the right of
kissing her—the double right in fact, both as bridegroom and
brother—and when she had submitted to the infliction, she again heard
it whispered into her ear:
"_That_ is the only part which I envy Mr. Musgrove."
Emma moved away without looking round again, and took her station by
the side of her friend, Miss Bridge, where she felt convinced that Mr.
Morgan would not dare to intrude on her. There was something in the
change of manner which he had lately assumed to her, most particularly
offensive and grating to her feelings.
Another thing she could not avoid remarking was, that some of the
young ladies affected to shun her, shrinking away when she approached,
and abruptly changing the conversation, as if some mystery were going
on between them. This was more particularly evident during the party
which succeeded the wedding; when she found herself rather a
conspicuous person two or three times, being left alone by those she
approached—and on more than one occasion, seeing a group suddenly
disperse on her drawing near; she did not comprehend the reason of
this, but she felt it particularly disagreeable; and it induced her as
soon as she noticed it, to keep close to Miss Bridge, in order to
avoid the feeling of solitude in a crowd which was so distressing to
her.
The meeting after the wedding was as dull as such affairs usually are,
and right glad was Emma when the time for retiring came, and she was
able to return to the peaceful vicarage. The next day she again left
Croydon, and once more found repose and tranquillity beneath Miss
Bridge's hospitable roof.