Chapter Twenty-Five #4
“It was astonishingly ill-mannered,” Mr. Darcy grumbled, giving just a little smile.
The gentlemen belatedly bid the ladies a proper greeting, and Emma thought it strange that Mr. Darcy did nearly all of the speaking between the pair of them. Mr. Bingley only skulked about in an odd way, and Emma began to wish him gone.
“I wonder if we ought not be unchaperoned,” she hedged. “John has gone back to London to attend to some business, and my father has gone with Isabella to take her children to visit Doctor Perry.”
“I hope they are not unwell,” Mr. Darcy said.
“No, not at all – the Perrys’ King Charles Spaniel has a litter of puppies and the children wish to play with them – and play with the Perry children, too, I suppose.”
“Oh! Puppies! What fun,” Mr. Bingley cried.
“Well, I hope you will not think our company too overbearing – you have the doors and windows open, and your excellent Miss Taylor is just there in the garden. We are betrothed already, anyhow, and my friend is a paragon of gallantry and virtue, eh Darcy?”
Elizabeth cast Emma such a pleading look that Emma could only acquiesce, and she called for the tea things to be refreshed for the unexpected visitors.
Mr. Bingley helped himself to tea and some of the sweets, and then drew a chair very near to Emma.
He stared at her painting, and though he said nothing, she supposed that he approved of it.
Emma was proud of how her picture was coming along.
The tableau Charlotte had arranged was a very fine one.
Elizabeth wore a pistachio green frock and Jane was looking as elegant as ever in a warm shade of the customary pink she favored.
Jane held a small basket of fruit, and Elizabeth was posed as if reciting poetry from a small orange volume in her hand.
They sat close together on a purple and white pinstriped divan with large potted ferns on either side.
Charlotte had placed a few vases of hydrangeas at their feet, and the wall behind them was frescoed bright yellow with blue flowers, creating a veritable rainbow of colors on Emma’s palette.
For a few minutes the only conversation was the poetry Elizabeth began to read aloud in a nonsensical style; Emma was fairly sure that it was not Cowper at all, but some invention of her own that Elizabeth teased them with.
It occurred to Emma that Mr. Churchill would be diverting her with conversation and praise if he were at her side, and yet she could not object to the tranquility of merely sharing in their odd little grouping.
They began laughing together at Elizabeth’s increasingly preposterous verse, and Emma felt as comfortable as ever she had in this familiar room.
Never had she been making merry with so many friends together.
But as she turned to Mr. Bingley, ready to demand at least a little compliment from him, she noticed that he was not as mirthful as the rest of her companions. “You are not yourself today, I think.”
He furrowed his brow for a moment. “Forgive me, Miss Woodhouse. We stopped in the village before we came here. I purchased an inordinate quantity of books for my deficient library – you will marvel at the collection when you see it! My sister Caroline was with us, and I had a moment of… but I suppose it is nothing.”
Emma let out a little noise of indignation. “You cannot tease me so! Do tell me, for I must always know everything.”
He chuckled. “Well, I do not wish to give you the wrong idea about my sister, but I believe she behaved rather badly. We met with Miss Bates and her mother in the village, and Caroline was exceedingly rude to them. She boasted of all the things Mr. Bennet had purchased for her in London and made rather a mockery of Miss Bates’s apparel, though I thought she looked remarkably well. ”
Elizabeth had ceased her japery, and the twins now wore identical grim expressions. Looking as though she wished to hurl her book across the room, Elizabeth bared her teeth and fairly snarled. “I will fight her in the thoroughfare with a knife.”
Mr. Bingley’s eyes widened. “Please do not.”
Mr. Darcy handed Elizabeth a chocolate biscuit.
“I would also advise against this, Miss Bennet. Though I have little doubt you would best her with blades, pistols, or fists alike, Bingley would be obliged to stand as his sister’s second.
Miss Fairfax is too gentle for a duel, and so I daresay Miss Woodhouse would act as your second.
This would hardly be an auspicious beginning to our friends’ betrothal. ”
“I will speak to Caroline about it at home,” Mr. Bingley said. “Not the duel, of course – what I mean is that I shall demand she apologize. I cannot imagine what would possess her to behave in such a way to a woman whom I know is entirely beloved in the village.”
Elizabeth thanked him, and Charlotte demanded she resume her pose for them. And then the sisters began whispering hurriedly with Mr. Darcy and Charlotte, who drew her easel nearer to them. Emma smiled, for she had been proven right that Mr. Darcy was their fellow conspirator.
Every so often, Emma was given to some brilliant notion or other, and as she glanced over at Mr. Bingley, something wicked took hold of her mind.
Mr. Churchill was gone, but she might repel her betrothed in some other way – perhaps she might shock and disgust him by merely being honest. And so, as she worked on her painting, she began to tell him in great detail of their scheme to separate Mr. Bennet from Miss Bingley and unite him with Miss Bates instead.
Mr. Bingley listened with astonishment, but his response was far from being appalled. When she chanced to lower her brush from the canvas, he took her hand in his; the brush she held created a streak of pink across the cuff of his blue coat, and he grinned stupidly at the smudge.
“Miss Woodhouse, you are an incomparable genius! I confess I do not think much of the match. I have nothing against Mr. Bennet, though I never expected Caroline to marry a man so much older than herself – she mocked Louisa relentlessly for doing the same with Hurst. Caroline is prickly and can drive me to distraction, but I wish her more happiness in marriage than I believe she shall find with Mr. Bennet. Indeed, I am not convinced she shall make him happy, either.”
Across the room, their companions had gone quiet as they all listened to Mr. Bingley. “Well said,” Mr. Darcy lauded his friend. “I have seen enough of unhappy marriages to know when there is little hope from the beginning.”
Mr. Bingley brightened at his friend’s encouragement. “And if you all mean to conspire together, I cannot abide being excluded.”
Emma looked at him with a lopsided smile. She knew just what he meant, and there was something so earnestly endearing about Mr. Bingley that she forgot to be cross at the failure of her ploy to repel him. “You are not angry that we mean to thwart your sister’s engagement?”
“She has done the same to every attachment I have ever formed to a young lady,” he blurted out before looking chagrined.
“Do not fear I shall be vexed to hear that you have admired other ladies, sir. I hardly imagined you to be a monk before our meeting.” Emma gave a little shrug of her shoulders, for it could be nothing to her if he had written sonnets for half the young ladies of the ton.
He turned a little pink and offered her a bright smile. “Well, I am glad you have more temerity than those others, Miss Woodhouse. Where they were driven away, you shall emerge triumphant, and I shall be well and truly in awe of you. Only tell me how I may be of use.”
Elizabeth grinned wickedly at Emma from across the room. “Yes, Emma, do instruct him; but perhaps let us not enlist all of Highbury in our schemes.”
“Nobody but us, we six,” Mr. Bingley agreed with glee. “We shall make a secret pact – is a blood oath at midnight too much?”
“I had thought you wished to avoid bloodshed,” Mr. Darcy drawled.
Emma felt a swell of excitement, for after lamenting that they had done so little, she was ready to begin scheming in earnest. “I think our weapon of choice must be a calendar.”
“Balls and parties,” Mr. Bingley exclaimed. “Social occasions to bring them together, Mr. Bennet and Miss Bates. Yes, exactly – how very clever!”
Emma perked up at his praise. “Allow me to amaze you further, sir. Mr. Churchill has been obliged to depart Highbury for a time, and so we shall have to postpone the ball at the Crown Inn. Jane and Lizzy have a birthday in a few weeks’ time….”
She paused to allow the gentlemen to exclaim over this, and then directed the substance of her scheme to the sisters.
“What if we reschedule the ball for your birthday? I have the impression Miss Bingley expects the ball to be a compliment to her betrothal, but what if it is in your honor instead? You deserve the distinction far more, having come and enlivened our little village!”
Jane looked dubious. “But what if Frank Churchill has not yet returned by then?”
Mr. Bingley scoffed. “I daresay we can have a ball without him.”
“Surely by then his father and Miss Taylor shall be engaged, for they have been in the garden together for quite some time,” Emma insisted.
“If that does not bring him back amongst us, perhaps he does not deserve to dance with us! But listen, there is more. You must tell your guardians that your birthday wish is to have an intimate family dinner at the cottage, just you and Mr. Bennet and the Bateses, and since the ball will be on your birthday, you may have to plan the special dinner a little sooner.”
Elizabeth grinned. “I like it.”
Mr. Bingley proved to be of the opinion that they would require a great deal of events to throw the couple together, which was just what Emma intended to propose.
“I daresay they shall discover they are better suited to one another, though I only ask that we should not be terribly cruel to Caroline,” he said.
“I do care for my sister, even if she is not always as kind as I wish her to be.”
Elizabeth grimaced at him. “I respect your good intentions, sir, but I might as well inform you that when Jane was pretending to be me at Netherfield, your sister behaved in an exceedingly vicious and hostile manner, and told my sister that she would be married off at once to be gotten out of the way – in the home I am to inherit! Tell him, Jane.”
Jane began to expound on Miss Bingley’s nastier comments and threats, and Mr. Bingley sprang from his seat to apologize to her, all the while mystified that the sisters had exchanged places for a week.
Mr. Darcy rose, whispered something into his friend’s ear with severe displeasure, and then stalked over to take Mr. Bingley’s place beside Emma.
She watched with confusion as Mr. Bingley’s apologies intensified, and then she looked to Mr. Darcy for explanation. His countenance was thunderous, and an impertinent query died on her tongue.
“You will find a staunch ally in my friend,” he said.
“I can see that.”
He raised his brows in a look of challenge. “I had thought your gaze was directed elsewhere. No matter. I only hope you comprehend the significance of Bingley’s willingness to defy his own sister to support you.”
Mr. Darcy returned to his place near Elizabeth before Emma could make any reply, and she could only gape at Mr. Bingley in wonder as this idea took root in her mind. Indeed, the situation was impressed upon her in an entirely new light.
She felt herself fortunate indeed to have so many friends, and to be in such merry cahoots with them.
And perhaps Mr. Churchill might have conspired with them just as readily, but he was not here.
He had gone away because of his unpleasant relations, while Mr. Bingley was here, plotting with them against his own odious relative.
When she next met Mr. Darcy’s eye, she nodded and gave him an appreciative smile.
Mr. Bingley returned to her side and had much to say on his chagrin at how his sister had treated their friends.
Emma was thoroughly enjoying their state of absolute agreement when Mr. Knightley sauntered in through the open garden door.
Now, here was a man who was sure to scold them if he discovered what they were all up to!
He looked uncommonly smug as he greeted them all with a sweeping bow and a big grin. “Well, Emma, I have the rare pleasure of knowing something you do not, though it is sure to be a fleeting delight.”
She jumped up at once. “What do you know?”
Just then, Mr. Weston and Miss Taylor returned to the parlor, their hands entwined.
They looked a little disheveled, but utterly joyful.
Emma comprehended them at once, and was soon informed that the pair had become engaged.
As soon as the words were spoken, the room erupted with excited congratulations, and in her own complete felicity, Emma turned to Mr. Bingley and hurled herself into his embrace.
She drew away swiftly, but his hands lingered on her shoulders.
He gave her a crooked smile and Emma shuddered, turning her face away to conceal a blushing smile.
Elizabeth caught her eye and waggled her brows, but it did not escape Emma’s notice that in the same exultant spirit, Elizabeth had taken Mr. Darcy’s hand.
There must have been something very peculiar in the air in Highbury; Emma could neither account for it, nor entirely object.