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.