_Characters._
_Mrs Elton and Mr Knightley._
_N.B._—“_Mrs Elton_ was first seen in church.... Emma had feelings,
less of curiosity than of pride or propriety, to make her resolve
on not being the last to pay her respects.... She (Emma) was almost
sure that for a young woman, a stranger, a bride, there was too
much ease.... and a quarter of an hour quite convinced her that
Mrs Elton was a vain woman, extremely well satisfied with herself
and thinking much of her own importance.... Emma was not required,
by any subsequent discovery, to retract her ill opinion of Mrs
Elton. Her observation had been pretty correct—such as Mrs Elton
appeared to her on this second interview, such she appeared whenever
they met again—self-important, presuming, familiar, ignorant, and
ill-bred.”—_Emma_, Vol. II., Chap. XXXII. “You might not see one in
a hundred, with _gentleman_ so plainly written as in Mr Knightley.”
... “Mr Knightley’s downright, decided, commanding sort of manner,
though it suits _him_ very well: his figure, and look and situation
in life seem to allow it; but if any young man were to set about
copying him, he would not be sufferable.”—_Emma_, Vol. I., Chap. IV.
_Scene—A parlour in Mrs Weston’s house._
_Properties required:—A small table L.C.; a chair L. of it; a writing
table in front of a window up R.; a door R.; other chairs and sofas; a
general air of comfort and refinement. Enter Mrs Elton—who soon sits
with her back to the door._
_Mrs Elton._ Provoking! Everything contrives for my annoyance; first,
I agree to meet Mr Elton here, and Mrs Weston is out, and I am forced
to wait alone. Then this exploring party that I had set my heart upon
is obliged to be put off through a lame horse, then——(_enter Mr
Knightley_). Ah! you have found me out at last in my seclusion? (_turns
and sees Knightley._) Oh! Knightley, it is _you._ I have been waiting
in this room this age for my lord and master, who promised to meet me
here and pay his respects to Mrs Weston, and as she was out, I was, of
course, forced to wait alone. But now that you are come——
_Knightley_ (_stiffly._) I gathered from Mrs Weston’s excellent
maid that she was from home, and merely came in to write a note of
importance. I did not know you were here, or should not have intruded
myself upon you.
_Mrs Elton._ Why do you speak of intrusion? I am delighted, and
although I cannot approve of a husband keeping his wife waiting at
any time, still I must make allowances for _Mr Elton_; for he really
is engaged from morning to night—there is no end of people’s coming
to him on some pretence or other. The magistrates and overseers and
churchwardens are always wanting his opinion. They seem not able to
do anything without him. “Upon my word, Mr E.,” I often say, “rather
you than I. I do not know what would become of my crayons and my
instrument if I had half so many applicants.” Bad enough as it is, for
I absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree. But is it not
most vexatious, Knightley? and such weather for exploring.
_Knightley._ Pardon me, I do not quite follow you.
_Mrs Elton._ Oh! have you not heard of our lame carriage-horse?
Everything has been put off,—the exploring party to Box Hill.
_Knightley._ Oh! yes; very annoying, to be sure; but these things will
happen, you know, Mrs Elton.
_Mrs Elton._ I know; but when the _first_ disappointment occurred,
through Mr and Mrs Suckling not being able to visit Highbury until the
autumn, _I_ said, why should we not explore to Box Hill though the
Sucklings did _not_ come? We could go there _again_ in the autumn with
_them._ And so, as you know, my suggestion was immediately taken up;
and everything was so charmingly arranged—why, I had even settled
with Mrs Weston as to pigeon pies and cold lamb, when, all at once,
everything is thrown into uncertainty. It may be weeks before the horse
is usable, and, therefore, no preparations can be ventured upon. What
are we to do? The delays and disappointments are quite odious. The year
will wear away at this rate, and nothing done. Before this time last
year we had delightful exploring parties from Maple Grove to King’s
Weston, and—
_Knightley_ (_lightly_). You had better explore to Donwell. That may be
done without horses. Come and eat my strawberries. They are ripening
fast.
_Mrs E._ (_impulsively_). Oh! I should like it of all things! Donwell,
I know, is famous for its strawberry beds. You may depend upon me; I
certainly will come; name your day, and I will come; you will allow me
to bring Jane Fairfax.
_Knightley._ I cannot name a day, till I have spoken to some others
whom I would wish to meet you.
_Mrs Elton._ Oh! leave all that to me, only give me _carte blanche_—I
am lady Patroness, you know—It is _my_ party—I will bring friends
with me.
_Knightley._ I hope you will bring Elton, but I will not trouble you to
give any other invitations.
_Mrs Elton._ Oh! now you are looking very sly—but consider—you need
not be afraid of delegating power to me. Married women, you know, may
be safely authorised. It is _my_ party—leave it all to me. _I_ will
invite your guests.
_Knightley._ No, Mrs Elton, no. There is but one married woman in
the world whom I can ever allow to invite what guests she pleases to
Donwell, and that one is—
_Mrs Elton_ (_mortified_). Mrs Weston, I suppose.
_Knightley._ No—Mrs Knightley, and till _she_ is in being, I will
manage such matters myself.
_Mrs Elton_ (_satisfied to have no one preferred to herself_). Ah!
you are an odd creature; you are a humorist, and may say what you
like—quite a humorist. Well, I shall bring Jane with me—Jane Fairfax
and her aunt—the rest I leave to you,—I have no objections at all to
meeting the Hartfield family. Don’t scruple—I know you are attached
to them.
_Knightley._ You certainly _will_ meet them if I can prevail; and I
shall call on Miss Bates on my way home.
_Mrs Elton._ That is quite unnecessary; I see Jane every day;—but, as
you like. It is to be a morning scheme, you know, Knightley; quite a
simple thing. I shall wear a large bonnet, and bring one of my little
baskets hanging on my arm—here—probably this basket—with pink
ribbons. Nothing can be more simple, you see. And Jane will have such
another. There is to be no form or parade—a sort of gipsy party. We
are to walk about your gardens and gather the strawberries ourselves,
or sit under the trees; and whatever else you like to provide, it is to
be all out of doors—a table spread in the shade, you know. Everything
as natural and simple as possible. Is not that your idea?
_Knightley._ Not quite. My idea of the simple and the natural will be
to have the table spread in the dining-room. The nature and simplicity
of gentlemen and ladies with their servants and furniture, I think,
is best observed by meals within doors. When you are tired of eating
strawberries in the garden, there shall be cold meat in the house.
_Mrs Elton._ Well, as you please; only don’t have a great
set-out—by-the-bye, can I or my housekeeper be of any use to you with
our opinion? Pray be sincere, Knightley. If you wish me to talk to Mrs
Hodges or to inspect anything—
_Knightley._ I have not the least wish for it, thank you.
_Mrs Elton._ Well!—but if any difficulties should arise; my
housekeeper is extremely clever—
_Knightley._ I will answer for it, mine thinks herself full as clever,
and would spurn anybody’s assistance.
_Mrs Elton._ I wish we had a donkey. The thing would be for us _all_ to
come on donkeys—Jane, Miss Bates, and me, and my _caro sposo_ walking
by my side. I really must talk to him about purchasing a donkey. In a
country life I conceive it to be a sort of necessary; for, let a woman
have ever so many resources, it is not possible for her to be always
shut up at home; and very long walks you know—in summer there is dust,
and in winter there is dirt—
_Knightley._ You will not find either between Donwell and
Highbury.—Donwell lane is never dusty, and now it is perfectly dry.
Come on a donkey, however, if you prefer it—you can borrow Mrs Cole’s.
I would wish everything to be as much to your taste as possible.
_Mrs Elton._ That I am sure you would. Indeed, I do you justice, my
good friend. Under that peculiar sort of dry, blunt manner, I know you
have the warmest heart. As I tell Mr E.—you are a thorough humorist.
Yes, believe me, Knightley, I am fully sensible of your attention to me
in the whole of this scheme. You have hit upon the very thing to please
me.
_Knightley._ Do not mention it, I pray; but, if you will allow me, I
will now write my note to Mrs Weston. It is of importance. (_Bows and
goes to writing table._)
_Mrs Elton._ Oh! don’t mind me. I have a thousand pleasant things to
think of now. Oh! by-the-bye, don’t forget to include Mr and Mrs Weston
in your invitations. Do not leave them out: that would be unpardonably
amiss—and Mrs Weston’s step-son, Frank Churchill, you must invite
_him_ (_aside_). All this is really most charming. Wright shall do my
hair in the simplest fashion. She shall dress it like a shepherdess of
the last century, and my gown shall be all white. I look well in white,
at least that foolish Elton has often told me so; besides, it is so
rural and simple. Nobody can think less of dress than I do; but upon
such an occasion as this, when everybody’s eyes will be upon me, and in
compliment to Knightley, who is giving this picnic party chiefly to do
me honour, I would not wish to be inferior to others.
_Knightley_ (_rising from the writing table_). And now, my letter
written, I will bid you good-day, and shall soon hope to settle the day
for our strawberry feast.
_Mrs Elton._ Must you be going, really? I cannot imagine what is become
of Mr Elton. He should have been here ages ago. He promised to come to
me as soon as he could disengage himself from his appointment at “The
Crown.” They are all shut up with him at a meeting—a regular meeting,
you know—Weston and Cole are there too; but one is apt to speak only
of those who lead, and I fancy Mr E. or yourself have everything your
own way here. By-the-bye, Knightley, how is it you are not at the
meeting?
_Knightley._ For the simple reason that the meeting you speak of is not
until to-morrow.
_Mrs Elton._ Ah! surely you are mistaken—the meeting is certainly
to-day. I do believe this is the most troublesome parish that ever was.
We never heard of such things at Maple Grove. Mr E. was certainly under
the impression the meeting was to-day, and depend upon it, he was so
vexed at finding out his mistake, that he has forgotten entirely his
appointment with me here, and my conjugal obedience is merely time and
patience thrown away. How provoking! Knightley, you must offer me your
arm and escort me some little way; as far as Miss Bates, and there we
can settle the precise day our charming exploring Party to Donwell
shall take place.
_Knightley_ (_offering his arm._) With pleasure. I will ask Miss Bates
if she and Miss Fairfax will be of the party, but the day must be fixed
for the convenience of Mr Woodhouse, whom I am most anxious to receive
at my house.
_Mrs Elton._ Oh! Out of the question. Mr Woodhouse is far too great an
invalid. You will not prevail upon him to come at all.
_Knightley._ I still hope to do so, with his daughter’s assistance.
(_Exeunt Mr Knightley and Mrs Elton._)
_Mrs Elton_ (_outside_). Oh! if Emma Woodhouse wishes it, poor Mr
Woodhouse will _have_ to come.
_End of Scene._
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