Chapter 14 #3
Fortunately, no one was standing nearby.
Father, Miss Bates, and their friends were seated in front of the fireplace—the new chimneypiece really was quite ugly—and George was engaged with Mr. Weston, Mr. Cole, and Squire Plumtree across the room.
Most of the young people were in the parlor, which opened up off the drawing room.
“You can speak freely,” said Mrs. Weston. “Although I shudder to think what you actually might be thinking about poor William.”
“Poor William was acting very suspiciously at dinner.”
“Really? In what way?”
“I caught him staring at me intently. When our gazes met, he turned bright red and quickly looked away.” Emma glanced at the young man again. “It felt as if he had something to hide.”
“I suspect he’s feeling embarrassed about his conduct during the party at Donwell Abbey.”
“Exactly,” Emma triumphantly said. “Or guilty, rather.”
“My dear, he likely wants to apologize for his bad behavior and is trying to work up the nerve,” Mrs. Weston replied.
Emma shook her head. “It was more than just bad behavior. He upset Prudence very badly.”
And possibly did much worse than that.
“That was indeed dreadful,” her friend patiently replied. “Which is why he probably wishes to apologize.”
“Then why hasn’t he?”
“Likely because you keep glowering at him. It’s quite noticeable.”
Oh dear.
“Then I suppose I’ll have to be more subtle about it.”
“Emma, you must—”
“Oh, look! Here comes Mrs. Cole.”
Their hostess greeted them, all smiles. “Mrs. Weston, I was hoping to impose on you to play the pianoforte for us. The young people are greatly longing to dance.”
“I should be happy to,” Mrs. Weston replied.
“Wonderful. Perhaps you would like to look over some of the music? The Gilbert and the Otway girls have already been making some selections.”
With another nod—and a quick warning glance to Emma— Mrs. Weston departed for the other room.
“What a kind woman,” Mrs. Cole said. “As are you, Mrs. Knightley. I was sorry to have to place you next to Mr. Barlowe. He’s terribly shy, but I knew that if anyone could pull him out of his shell, it would be you.”
“I’m afraid I was rather a failure in that department,” Emma ruefully admitted.
“I hope you enjoyed chatting with Mr. Plumtree, though. He’s a truly amiable young man, and Squire Plumtree is a most worthy addition to the neighborhood after such a long time away in London.”
“Yes, Mr. Plumtree mentioned that. What precipitated his return, if I may ask.”
Mrs. Cole sighed. “It’s a very sad story, really. The poor squire—”
“Oh, Mrs. Knightley, there you are! Anne and I have been longing to speak with you.”
Emma turned to find herself confronted by the Cox girls, forcing her to grit her teeth and try to manage a smile at the same time. Both Susan and Anne did appear eager to speak with her. That was more than a little strange, since normally they tried to avoid her.
“Now, Susan,” admonished Mrs. Cole. “You mustn’t barge into conversations. Your mother would not be pleased.”
“It was Mama’s idea,” Anne said. “Because the music is about to start, we thought we’d better speak with Mrs. Knightley now. We won’t want to speak to anyone once the dancing starts.”
Susan giggled. “Except to young men like Mr. Plumtree. Anne and I could talk to him forever.”
Her sister tossed a fat curl over her shoulder. “La, I barely took notice of him. You’re the one who was making sheep’s eyes at him.”
“I was not,” Susan indignantly replied.
“You were both flirting with him, from what I could see,” Mrs. Cole replied with a wink. “And I don’t blame you one bit. He’s a very nice young man.”
Since her marriage last year, Emma had given up her rather checkered career of matchmaking.
Perhaps, though, she could be persuaded to make an exception for Guy.
If nothing else, it would be an act of charity to introduce him to a few eligible young ladies and save him from the likes of the Cox sisters.
Perhaps the oldest Otway girl?
Susan beamed at Mrs. Cole. “And Mr. Plumtree is so stylish, too. I vow, no young man has been so stylish in Highbury since Mr. Frank Churchill.”
Anne scoffed. “He’s not nearly a patch on Frank Churchill— not that Frank had eyes for anyone but Jane. Although everyone did think he was sweet on you, Mrs. Knightley. To think he was secretly engaged to Jane the entire time that he flirted with you.”
Talking to the Cox girls was just as unpleasant as stepping into a mud puddle while wearing one’s best shoes.
Mrs. Cole cast a severe look on the sisters. “That’s no way to speak to Mrs. Knightley. I doubt Mr. Knightley would be very pleased.”
Susan had the grace to look abashed. Unfortunately, Anne wouldn’t know how to look abashed if her life depended on it.
“We don’t mean to offend, Mrs. Knightley,” Susan apologetically said.
“It’s fine,” Emma said. “What did you wish to speak to me about?”
The sisters exchanged an uncomfortable glance, as if at a loss how to begin.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Mrs. Cole said with a surprising degree of tact. “I must speak to Mr. Cole.”
“We’re sorry again to interrupt your conversation, Mrs. Knightley,” said Susan after their hostess departed. “I hope you don’t think us too rude.”
Anne again tossed a curl over her shoulder. “You apologize too much, Susan. I’m sure you’re boring Mrs. Knightley to tears.”
“A well-intentioned apology is never amiss,” Emma said sternly. “Again, what did you wish to speak to me about?”
After several seconds of fraught silence, Anne elbowed her sister. “Go on, Susan.”
Susan bristled. “You’re the oldest, so you should say it.”
“Coward,” Anne muttered before looking at Emma.
Interestingly, the girl’s gaze mingled a curious mixture of defiance and embarrassment, if Emma didn’t miss her guess.
“Is this about your brother?” she asked.
Anne gave a reluctant nod. “Mama wanted us to apologize to you for his bad behavior at your party. She said you would be very upset about what happened to your maid, and that William’s behavior just made everything worse.”
Emma’s heart jolted against her rib cage. “How did William’s behavior make it worse?”
Susan’s eyes popped wide. “Because that poor girl had such a horrible end, Mrs. Knightley. When William heard the next day, he felt dreadful because he’d been …”
“Flirting with her,” Anne finished. “When she didn’t want him to.”
Emma frowned. “Your brother told your mother that he was pestering Miss Parr?”
Anne nodded. “Yes, and Papa, too. Papa rang a terrible peal over him. Poor William was miserable.”
“He deserved to be miserable,” Emma tartly replied.
Susan grimaced an apology. “He’s ever so sorry, Mrs. Knightley, and he’s dreadfully ashamed that he acted so poorly.”
“Then why are you apologizing instead of him?”
“He’s afraid that you or Mr. Knightley will give him a thundering scold,” Anne replied, sneering a bit. “I’ve told him to stop being such a coward.”
Emma glanced at the young man, still sitting with Miss Nash. She found him gazing at her with a woebegone expression that was more akin to a puppy that had just been kicked than a ruthless killer.
He blushed and quickly returned his attention to Miss Nash.
Emma sighed. “He certainly deserves a thundering scold. Gentlemen shouldn’t be acting so poorly, especially in public.”
Anne bristled. “Lots of young men drink and flirt. I don’t see why William should be any different.”
“He greatly embarrassed your parents. And I can assure you that a true gentlemen does not act that way in public or private.”
Anne flapped her hands like an agitated goose. “How else are you supposed to meet young men if they don’t flirt with you?”
Emma wondered what she’d done to earn the ghastly task of having to school such a silly young woman in appropriate social behavior. “You do it by having a rational conversation with them about something that interests you both.”
Susan looked perplexed. “But what if you don’t know what interests them?”
“You ask them. Young men like nothing better than talking about themselves.”
Anne scoffed. “But that’s so boring.”
Hopeless.
“To return to your brother,” Emma said. “You said your mother wished you to apologize for him. Did William also ask you to approach me on his behalf?”
Susan nodded. “He’s truly sorry, and he also apologizes for …” She trailed off with a grimace.
“For what?”
The sisters exchanged a glance. For the first time, they looked genuinely uncomfortable.
“After you told us to remove him from the hall,” Anne reluctantly said, “we took him to one of the drawing rooms.”
“The yellow one,” added Susan. “It’s ever so nice a room, Mrs. Knightley. And we’re very sorry what happened.”
“Which was what?”
“William got sick,” Susan reluctantly admitted. “He, um …”
“Cast up his crumpets?” Emma dryly supplied.
She nodded.
“But he didn’t get any on the furniture,” Anne said. “And only a bit on the carpet. So it wasn’t so bad, after all.”
“Didn’t one of the servants tell you?” Susan asked. “We felt sure that they would.”
“As you recall, we were a trifle busy that evening.” Emma suddenly frowned. “And you said this happened immediately after I spoke with you?”
Susan nodded.
“So, after your brother became ill, what happened next?”
“He fell asleep on one of the sofas,” Anne replied. “We had a terrible time waking him up to take him home. Father had to practically carry him. It was dreadfully embarrassing.”
“And someone was with your brother that entire time in the drawing room?”
“Yes, Mrs. Knightley,” Susan earnestly said. “I stayed with him the whole time. Papa was very angry and wanted William to apologize right away, but Mama said there was no point, since he could hardly even talk.”
And that was the final blow to Emma’s theory about William Cox. Had he pestered Prudence earlier in the evening, upsetting the poor girl? Yes. But unless the entire Cox family was in league with him, which was a ridiculous notion, the foolish man was not guilty of anything but being a cad.