To return to the party at the parsonage, whom we left discussing the
point, Elizabeth suddenly turned to her sister and exclaimed,
"By the bye Emma, you have given no opinion on the subject—yet you are
as much interested as the rest of us. What do you think of
going—should you like it?"
"Yes, I think I should," replied Emma honestly and boldly. "I like
what I have seen of Miss Osborne better than I expected, and really
have rather a curiosity to see the inside of the Castle."
"Ah, Emma, I am glad you have come down from your proud indifference,
and condescended to be curious like the rest of us," cried her sister.
"Did you think I affected indifference, Elizabeth?"
"I suspected it. For my part I have no scruple in owning my wishes,
and should like extremely to surprise Tom Musgrove by my acquaintance
with the manners, amusements and ideas prevalent in Osborne Castle, of
which he talks so much."
"Then I may conclude it a settled affair," observed Mrs. Willis; "and
Charles shall run up to the Castle with the note immediately. That
shall be his share of the amusement."
At six o'clock the party started from the Parsonage. Elizabeth in a
flutter between curiosity and fear, which made her pleasure in the
undertaking rather doubtful to herself. Emma would have thought more
about it had she not been engrossed with meditations on the change in
Mr. Howard's manners, which rather perplexed her. He had been
different all the afternoon from what he had appeared in the morning;
his prolonged absence from their company seemed unaccordant with
Charles's declaration of his haste to join them, and there was a
coldness in his tone when he addressed _her_, quite at variance with
his former warmth and frankness. This pained her; she was constantly
fancying that she had done or said something to lessen herself in his
esteem, but she could not imagine what it was. Occupied with these
thoughts she scarcely noticed the grandeur of the Hall, the
magnificent staircase, the elegance of the ante-rooms as they
approached, and was only roused from her reverie by the overpowering
blaze of light in the drawing-room. Lady Osborne was alone in the
room, seated on a sofa from which she did not rise to receive them,
but graciously extended her thin and richly jewelled hand to Mrs.
Willis, and bowed courteously to her companions.
Overawed by her near approach to such magnificence, Elizabeth drew
back rather hastily, and after nearly upsetting Emma by inadvertently
treading on her toe, she dropped into the chair which seemed most out
of sight, and endeavoured to recover her breath and composure.
Lady Osborne desired the other ladies to find seats, and then
observing that Mr. Howard likewise drew back, and seemed to meditate a
retreat to one of the windows, she dropped the elegant screen she had
been holding in her hand. It was not well managed, however; Mrs.
Willis was so near that she restored her ladyship's screen before her
brother had time to interfere. But Lady Osborne was not to be baffled,
she addressed a few civil words to Mrs. Willis, and then suddenly
observed,
"You have no footstool Mrs. Willis, take mine—I daresay Mr. Howard
will bring me another."
Thus appealed to the gentleman was forced to approach, and immediately
with eager civility was offered a seat on the sofa by herself.
Emma meantime was contemplating their hostess with some interest, and
more wonder. Lady Osborne had been a celebrated beauty, and her dress
showed that she had by no means given up all pretensions to her former
claims. Jewels and flowers were mingled in her hair which was still
remarkably abundant; her neck and shoulders were a good deal
uncovered, her arms and hands were heavily hung with ornaments, and
she smoothed down her rich dress with a hand which though thin was
still white and delicate-looking. There was something in her manner to
Mr. Howard which particularly struck Emma—a sort of consciousness and
wish to attract and engage him, that seemed very much at variance with
her age and station. Not that she was an old woman—Emma had learned
from "The Peerage" that she was not more than forty-five, and she
looked less. But she was the mother of a grown-up son and daughter,
and the widow of a peer; and a grave and gentle deportment, stately
but serene, would have seemed more becoming in Emma's eyes, and given
her a higher idea of her character. She had not however very long to
make these observations as Miss Osborne's entrance gave her another
subject for her thoughts. This young lady presented a remarkable
contrast to her mother, from the studied plainness of her dress. She
was entirely without ornament, except some beautiful flowers, and had
evidently sought in her toilette to assimilate her appearance as
nearly as was suitable to what she knew her guests must present. She
took a seat between the two strangers, and entered readily into
conversation with Emma; but before many sentences had been exchanged,
their party was completed by the appearance of Miss Carr at one door,
as the young master of the house entered at another.
He paid his compliments to them all by a short bow, and a muttered,
"Glad to see you," then walked towards his mother's sofa, and
stationed himself by the end of it, nearest Emma, where leaning
against the elbow, he could resume his apparently favorite amusement
of staring at her face. Miss Carr, meanwhile, had approached the
fender, and stood fluttering over the fire for some minutes, then
advancing nearer to Lady Osborne, addressed to her some trifling
question, which diverted her attention from Mr. Howard, to his evident
relief. He immediately rose, and resigned his seat in her favor. Lady
Osborne looked displeased, but to that Miss Carr was indifferent, she
had secured a position at Lord Osborne's elbow, which was her own
object, and broken short her lady hostess's attempts at flirtation
with the clergyman which she knew would please her friend.
Her position, however advantageous, was not long tenable: the summons
to dinner was given before she had time to utter more than one remark
to Lord Osborne, cutting off his answer, which, short as he usually
made his replies, there was now no opportunity to utter. Lady Osborne
rose in great state, and giving her hand to Mr. Howard, proceeded to
the dining room, through a long range of ante-rooms, where large
glasses were so arranged as to exhibit before her, her stately figure,
and glance back the lustre of her diamond ornaments. As Elizabeth and
Emma followed Miss Osborne and her friend, they could not help
wondering at the self-admiration which made it agreeable thus to see
nothing but self.
"How dingy we look compared to her ladyship and Miss Carr," whispered
Elizabeth to her sister. "I really feel quite ashamed of myself."
"I trust I shall be a little sheltered from her son's eyes," rejoined
Emma, in a similar tone, "his stare is quite overpowering; why does he
not, sometimes, look at you."
"Thank you, I do not wish it—gracious—six footmen—what can they all
find to do in waiting," this ejaculation was uttered almost
inaudibly—they having reached the dining-room, where Elizabeth was too
much awed to speak.
Lady Osborne did not sit at the head of her own table, and her two
young visitors were seated on either hand of Miss Osborne on the
opposite side of her ladyship. Immediately that she perceived how they
were about to be arranged, Emma contrived to seat herself as far as
possible from their host, and by that means became the neighbour of
Mr. Howard. She fancied he perceived the object of her manœuvres, for
a sort of half smile passed over his face, and he looked either amused
or pleased, she could not tell which. He did not address her, however,
and as Miss Osborne turned to converse with Elizabeth she sat for some
time silent. But as dinner advanced, just as her ladyship was
detailing to Mrs. Willis some events in the village which required
superintendence, and whilst Miss Carr was making a lively attack on
Lord Osborne—about his absence of mind during the dinner, Mr. Howard
enquired whether her curiosity was gratified. Pleasure that he should
once more resume a tone of friendship, brought a lively colour to her
cheeks, and so sweet a smile to her lips, that he must have been very
insensible to admiration of beauty, had he been able to resist the
attraction. He continued the conversation as long as Lady Osborne's
narrative served as a screen to them, and though, when that drew to a
close, he found himself compelled to transfer his attention to their
hostess, the impressions left by his look and tone were so very
pleasing, as quite to rescue the dinner from a charge of stupidity
which Emma had previously been meditating to bring against it. It was
lucky that she had this little diversion, for otherwise her share of
amusement would have been small. There was not a great deal said at
dinner, and of that little comparatively a small portion fell to her
lot.
It was over however at last, and when they had reached the
drawing-room to which they were ushered, in almost as much form as
they left it, though their conductor was now only the groom of the
chambers, Emma hoped she might find some little relief from
insipidity: nor was she disappointed; whilst Lady Osborne was sipping
coffee, and prosing to Mrs. Willis, her daughter drew her younger
guests into a smaller room, which she assured them was her own
particular domain; here establishing themselves comfortably round the
ample fire, they fell into a lively and pleasant chat, such as any
three girls might be expected to do; presently they were joined by
Miss Carr.
"Your lady-mother," said she, "is so deep in village politics with
Mrs. Willis, that I am sure I must be _de trop_ there, and I have,
therefore, absconded here."
She seated herself as she spoke in the chimney corner on a low
ottoman, and spreading out her hands to the fire; she said—
"Don't let me stop you unless you were talking of me, Miss Emma
Watson, it is your turn—what do you think?"
"Think of what?" enquired Emma, rather startled by the keen eyes fixed
on her—it seemed always her fate to be stared at unmercifully.
"Think, oh, of anything—of Mr. Howard for instance—what do you think
of him?"
"That he carves very well," returned Emma laughing.
"Well, that is something—a good quality in the master of a house; I
commend it seriously to your attention."
"I should think the gentlemen would not sit very long," observed Miss
Osborne, "and when they come we must all adjourn to the drawing-room,
for mama will wish to sit down to cards. I hope you can play cards."
Her visitors assented, Elizabeth asserting that she was very fond of
them.
"And you, Miss Emma Watson," cried Miss Carr, "do you not delight in
cards—you answer with a degree of coldness that speaks rather of
indifference on the subject."
"I can play if necessary," replied Emma, "but there are many
occupations I prefer."
"But you shall not be obliged to make martyrs of yourselves," said
Miss Osborne good-humouredly. "If you prefer it you shall sit here,
either or both of you, but we do not play high."
Nothing remarkable occurred during the rest of the evening; a dull,
leaden state seemed to pervade everything, and both the Miss Watsons
felt an inclination to yawn, which they dared not indulge in so august
a presence. They were very glad when the time for taking leave
arrived, and the enlivening bustle of putting on cloaks and fur boots
quite aroused them. Lord Osborne looked on whilst Mr. Howard was
wrapping up Emma, with a degree of attention which held out fair hopes
of his soon learning such a lesson by heart.
"I shall come down and see you to-morrow," said he.
"It seems warmer to-night," observed Emma, "don't you think we are
going to have a thaw? perhaps we may get home to-morrow."
"I hope you are not weary of us," said Mr. Howard, in a cordial voice;
"if the weather does not change till _we_ wish it, we shall keep you
prisoner some days yet."
"Thank you," said she—she wanted to say something more but did not
know exactly what, and they reached the carriage before she had made
up her mind.
The bright fire which was burning in the comfortable little drawing
room at the parsonage, irresistably invited them to enter and draw
round it, before separating for the night. Their drive had dispelled
their sleepiness, and they were all four in good spirits: it was just
the time, the situation, when reserve seems naturally cast aside, and
friendly chat and the merry laugh go round unrestrained.
"Well, Miss Watson," said Mrs. Willis, "is your curiosity gratified?
how do you like the Castle? are you envious of their state?"
"No, I think not," answered Elizabeth reflectingly, "there are some
things I should like, but much that would be troublesome. I dare say
Lady Osborne has no worry about housekeeping, but then _I_ should feel
the responsibility of having so many dependent on me."
"And what part would you chose of her ladyship's manner of living?"
asked Mr. Howard, "her jewels perhaps—or her six footmen?"
"Neither," replied Elizabeth, laughing a little; "I am used to wait on
myself, and should feel it a great restraint to be obliged to wait
whilst others waited on me. I could not help thinking of what my
father used to say, when Lady Osborne's maid was so long bringing her
ladyship a shawl. 'If you want to be served, send—if you want to be
_well_ served, go.' That was his motto—and though he never acted on it
himself, I think I do—and would rather run up three pair of stairs
myself, than wait whilst another does it."
"I admire the activity and independence of your spirit, Miss Watson,"
replied Mr. Howard; "but you have not yet told me what it is you do
envy."
"No, and I do not mean to do it," replied she; "be satisfied with your
own conjectures."
"I must if you will say no more. And _you_, Miss Emma, how were you
pleased with your evening?"
"Very much—I have come back much wiser than I went; I have made up my
mind that the more elevated the situation the less pleasant it would
be unless one had been brought up to it."
"Then you would not change places with Lady Osborne?" said he, fixing
a pair of very penetrating eyes on her. As she had noticed Lord
Osborne's looks without the remotest idea of his meaning anything but
to put her out of countenance, and formed no airy speculations as to
the possibility of succeeding to the dominion at the Castle, she
attached no peculiar meaning to his question.
"I think the supposition hardly a reasonable one," was her answer;
"could you suppose I should wish to exchange with a woman old enough
to be my mother—give up five and twenty years of life to be a wealthy
middle-aged dowager in claret-coloured satin and diamonds."
Mr. Howard smiled.
"Remember," continued Emma as if retracting, "I mean no disparagement
to your friend, who I have no doubt may be a very excellent and
amiable woman, but I was speaking merely as she appeared to me
to-day."
"There have been young Lady Osbornes," said he almost in a whisper,
and as if rather doubtful whether or not to speak the words.
"I suppose so," replied Emma coolly, without the smallest
embarrassment, but with a slight shade of reserve in her manner. She
never allowed jesting on the topic of matrimony. He saw it
immediately.
"Then what do you think you require to make you happy?" said he, to
escape from the other subject.
"A very comprehensive question—I should like to know whether you
expect a serious answer," replied she gaily.
"A true one, if you please."
"To be with those I love, and have money in my purse—I think that is
sufficient: no—I think I should like a house too—"
"Very reasonable and moderate."
"But preserve me from the slavery of living _en grande dame_; I was
not brought up to it—and nothing but habit could make such bonds sit
light and gracefully."
"I believe you are right, and you must certainly be wise."
He looked at her with unmistakable admiration; she could not meet his
eye, but coloured and fixed hers on the fender. In spite of her
embarrassment, however, she felt a real pleasure in the friendly tone
he had assumed, and hoped sincerely that the morning would not see him
cold and formal again.
"Emma," said Elizabeth after they had retired for the night, "I am
certain that Lord Osborne admires you very much."
Emma only smiled in reply.
"What do you think about it?" continued Miss Watson.
"That I wish he would find some pleasanter way of testifying his
admiration," said Emma. "I do not know whether he is the only man who
ever admired me, but he is certainly the only one who ever looked at
me so much."
"Oh, we must not expect everything arranged just to our taste,"
replied Elizabeth; "and whilst you enjoy so much of his attention, you
must not complain if he is not the most sprightly of admirers—the
honour itself should suffice you. His rank is higher, if his wit is
not brighter than Mr. Howard's."
"To mention them in the same breath!" cried Emma; "they are the
antipodes of each other—as different in sense as in rank—what a pity
their position cannot be reversed!"
"Oh, then your objection to being Lady Osborne is not after all to the
rank but the man," cried Elizabeth, "and you are less philosophic than
you pretended to be. But if Mr. Howard had been a peer, perhaps you
would never have known him."
"Very likely not," said Emma calmly, "but I do not see what that has
to do with it."
"Now don't pretend to be so very innocent and simple-minded, Emma; you
know, as well as I do, that the two men are both in love with you, and
you, ambitious monkey, not content with things as they are, and
choosing between worth and rank, wish to have every advantage combined
in one, for your own special acceptance."
"How can you talk such nonsense, Elizabeth?" said Emma coloring.
"I deny the accusation stoutly; it is you who are unreasonable, whilst
I am talking in the most matter-of-fact way imaginable."
Emma was silent, and after waiting a minute, her sister began again:
"I wonder what Tom Musgrove will say when he hears we have dined at
the Castle?"
"Some nonsense I dare say," replied Emma; "I believe his boastings
were at the bottom of your curiosity to go there; you wished to
surprise him."
"Yes I think I did—but was it like what you expected? it was all so
grand and formal that _I_ felt quite uncomfortable. I am glad to have
been, and still more glad that I have come away."
"It was not the first time I have been in a large house," said Emma,
"and I was not surprised at anything I saw; except that Lady Osborne
should take the trouble of wearing so many jewels, and dress in so
very juvenile a style."
"Were you not jealous, Emma? Did you not notice how she flirted with
Mr. Howard?"
"For shame, Elizabeth, to say such things of our hostess."
"Nay, indeed it is only truth—I think he had much better marry her. I
dare say she has a good jointure, and she may not be very disagreeable
to him perhaps! what would you say to that?"
"That he must be a very different Mr. Howard from what I fancy him, if
he can be induced to marry for the sake of a jointure," replied Emma
firmly.
"But perhaps he is in love with her," persisted Miss Watson.
"That alters the case," said Emma who did not believe anything of the
kind.
"I rather think he must be," continued her sister, "he looked so much
pleased at her calling him to the sofa. Or I will tell you another
idea that struck me, perhaps he is attached to Miss Osborne, and pays
his court to her mother to gain her good word."
"My dear Elizabeth," cried Emma rather impatiently, "you have within
the last five minutes, concluded Mr. Howard in love with three
different people. Some of your conjectures cannot be right, but they
may all be wrong—pray leave off guessing, since you cannot arrive at
any conclusion."
"I like Miss Osborne," said Elizabeth, after a moment's pause.
"So do I," replied her sister.
"Better than Miss Carr," continued Miss Watson, "I have a little fear
of Miss Carr; but, Emma, I wonder how my father and Margaret get on, I
am afraid he will find it very dull; she does not like backgammon or
reading out loud—and this snow will prevent his getting the newspaper,
or seeing any one to amuse him."
"Yes, I am afraid so," sighed Emma, "it is very pleasant here, but I
wish we were home again."
"I wish home were like this," continued Miss Watson, "as airy and
cheerful, and elegant-looking—what a nice room this is—we have not
such a room in our house—and I am sure our furniture never looks so
well, take what care I can of it. You had better take this for your
own room when you are Mrs. Howard."
"I really wish you would not talk in that way, Elizabeth,"
remonstrated Emma, "it can do no good, and it will make me feel very
uncomfortable."
"I beg your pardon, I will try not," said her sister laughing.
Long after her sister was asleep, Emma herself was thinking over the
events of the morning, and recalling to memory every tone and word and
look of Mr. Howard. She weighed them all, and tried to comprehend the
cause of the changes which seemed to her rather sudden. She could
hardly suppose it a caprice—she did not think him guilty of that—but
why vary so completely.
She wished to be liked by him; she was pleased with the society both
of himself and his sister, and he feared if she did not approve of her
manners, or disliked her conversation, his sister likewise would draw
back from the friendship which seemed to have begun so prosperously,
and she should lose the pleasantest acquaintance she had found since
returning to her father's house.