Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Four
The next day, Jane again visited Hartfield with her mother and grandmother.
Only half of the party had come from Milton Hall, for Miss Bingley had prevailed upon Mr. Bennet to take her and her sister back to London for the afternoon, to retrieve the many purchases they had made when they passed through town on their journey south.
Mr. Hurst was presumably still sleeping off his drunkenness from the previous evening, which seemed to be his habit.
Mr. Weston and Frank joined them this time, as the four ladies again sat at their easels in the garden.
Emma immediately claimed the distinction of painting Frank, who was far from objecting.
Mr. Bingley admirably concealed his disappointment by asking to observe Elizabeth as she completed her portrait of Mr. Darcy.
“I shall stand faithfully at your side and offer my advice, for I know all of Darcy’s flaws and might happily point them out to you. I shall be such an agreeable companion, Miss Bennet, that you may feel yourself compelled to sing my praises to your friend.”
After Charlotte offered to paint Mrs. Knightley, Jane resigned herself to making a portrait of Mr. Weston, but Emma protested this. She came close to Jane and whispered in the impudent manner she often showed Elizabeth.
“Oh, no, dear Jane – I beg you would not, for another time I intend to paint Mr. Weston in the same portrait that I began of Miss Taylor. I took my idea from you, clever girl, for I saw what you mean to do with Miss Bates’s picture, leaving space for Mr. Bennet.
What a pity he has gone off to London! We really must begin our scheming in earnest if we are to unite them before it is too late – last night Miss Bingley said the banns for their nuptials shall be called in church on Sunday, along with my own. ”
Jane was inclined to agree with this, though she knew that her own personal distress had prevented their schemes.
She wished to overcome what troubled her, and under happier circumstances she might have been delighted that Emma was speaking so warmly with her.
But how could she be the intimate friend of the woman who perpetually taunted her?
Until Emma’s flirtation with Frank came to an end, Jane hardly knew how she was to bear the friendly overtures of a creature she wished to throttle.
“Perhaps you should paint Mr. Weston next, then, and I will paint Mr. Churchill.”
“Oh, no, that would never do – I must be permitted to make the portrait; did you not see how it vexed Mr. Bingley? I am sure I can make him despise me in three weeks’ time.”
Jane was not sure she could bear another three weeks of Frank and Emma flaunting their flirtation in her face, for all her beau’s lavish gifts.
“What if you really make Mr. Churchill in love with you? You have said you always intended never to marry – surely you would not break his heart for the sake of driving away a very nice man.”
Emma glanced across the garden at Frank, who was practicing different poses for his portrait as his father commended them all.
She screwed up her face. “He does not strike me as a man whose heart will be easily touched. Indeed, I daresay he loves himself better than he could ever love a lady. Ha! I sound rather like Lizzy – I know she despises him on account of his horrid aunt. Was old Mrs. Churchill terribly rude to you in Weymouth?”
“Terribly,” Jane admitted, frowning at the recollection.
Emma flattened her lips with disdain. “I suppose I should no more want such a relation as that than Miss Bingley and her sister, and the drunkard Mr. Hurst! If I do ever marry, which is not likely, it shall be to a man of no relations at all.”
Jane laughed in spite of herself. Emma brightened at Jane’s encouraging response, then looked out across the garden.
“Well, here comes a man of many relations to whom I cannot object. Perhaps you could paint Mr. Knightley, Jane. It would be a blessing for him, for I am sure you are the most talented amongst us. Indeed, I daresay he would say so himself, though he has ever been my harshest critic.”
As Mr. Knightley approached them, Emma called out a greeting; thankfully, she did not notice the blush that inflamed Jane’s cheeks. “Mr. Knightley, I hope you have come ready to have your portrait painted. You need not fear I shall attempt it; dear Jane shall have the honor.”
Miss Taylor and Mr. Weston walked arm in arm to greet Mr. Knightley, with Miss Bates hurrying after them.
Even Frank sauntered over, trying not to look too eager.
Mr. Knightley greeted them all kindly; he always seemed so sincerely pleased by meeting with the people he liked, even if it was becoming a frequent occurrence.
When he smiled at Jane, he gave his hearty consent to sit for her and be painted in any attitude she chose, but first he must satisfy his purpose in coming.
“I have walked from Donwell to invite you all thither next week. You see, Emma, I have taken your advice that I host a party of my own.”
“I daresay it is your turn, sir,” Mr. Weston said with a hearty chuckle. “We have already enjoyed parties at Randalls and Milton Hall, and I daresay Frank and I are at Hartfield daily.”
Jane flinched, her gaze landing on Frank. He smiled weakly at her, then clapped his hands in exaggerated excitement. “Oh, do say you are not giving a ball! I am already planning one at the Crown Inn.”
Emma swatted at him. “As if we should object to a second one! Are you giving a ball at Donwell?”
“I am not as fond of dancing as you are, Emma, but I am planning something far better – and I might even boast more original. It occurred to me last evening that since Miss Fairfax received the gift of the pianoforte from her sister’s guardian, all of the ladies of our set now have an instrument to practice upon.
There are two very pleasant performers in my presence even now – or perhaps I should say three, though it is too long since I have had the delight of hearing you, Miss Taylor. ”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, do not think of me when these two girls are infinitely better! So, is it a musical evening you are planning?”
“Indeed, I wish to host a proper musicale , and everyone who wishes it may exhibit. We shall dine first, of course, and then what pleasures shall await us.” Mr. Knightley’s gaze landed on Jane and he smiled.
“I hope you may have time to make good use of your new instrument, Miss Fairfax – wicked Emma may attempt to distract you with her merriment, so that you play no better.”
“A wicked accusation, but probably true,” Emma laughed, giving Jane a playful wink.
Frank had his share of laughter at this and then grinned boldly at Jane. “What a fine gift this pianoforte has proven to be, Miss Fairfax. I understand it is an instrument of exceptional quality, and so too may your performance prove to be.”
Emma was ready to proceed with their portraits, and she soon carried Frank off to be painted.
The others dispersed to take some of the refreshments that had been provided on a neat little table at the back of the garden.
Jane was left with Mr. Knightley, who declared himself entirely at her command.
There was a tiny voice inside her heart that whispered, if only .
When Mr. Knightley was situated in posing for Jane, she began in silence, sketching out the lines that shaped his strong, masculine form. She had always liked the sight of him, though she had never been at such liberty to freely study him.
“I hope I did not mortify you by mentioning your new instrument, Miss Fairfax. I had the impression last evening that you did not enjoy the topic.”
“Only the speculation of it”, she admitted, so distracted in her work that she found herself speaking quite candidly. “In truth, I did not take as much pleasure in the gift as I ought to.”
“That is just what I said to my brother. It exposed you to unpleasant speculation, which Mr. Bennet might have avoided by owning from the very beginning that he had given it. And I cannot imagine where you have put the instrument – forgive me, but perhaps the parlor at your cottage is larger than I recall….”
Jane smiled with satisfaction at hearing her sentiments echoed by a man whose judgement she esteemed.
“No, it is not. My aunt was sorry to be obliged to find a new place for the card table, but the weather is fair enough that we have moved it to the little garden in front of the house. Perhaps we may sit out there and observe the village while we play cards – and when it rains I shall be indoors, playing my instrument, of course.”
“I commend your optimism, Miss Fairfax. I hope this means you are in better spirits than you were last evening.”
“Oh dear – that is, yes – I suppose I was a little overwhelmed. I am not accustomed to so much activity in Highbury.”
“I daresay nobody is, but then we may appreciate it rather less than so many others.”
Jane gave a gentle laugh, happy to be in accord with him. “But I ought to be overjoyed at the reunion with my sister, of course.”
“And are you? Forgive me, but I thought I perceived aught amiss between you last evening; you rather reminded me of Emma and Isabella when they got into spats as girls.”
Jane’s eyes widened a little as she thought of what quarrels between that pair of sisters must be like, and Mr. Knightley chuckled at her reaction. “Of course, it is no business of mine, but I am sorry to see you looking troubled.”
“Did you and your brother quarrel often as boys?”
He laughed again. “It is a miracle we both survived to adulthood. But I ought not to speak so; I have no doubt you and your sister would have preferred to grow up together, even if it meant tearing one another’s hair out from time to time.”