Chapter Twenty-Six
Jane felt uncommonly self-conscious as Mr. Knightley’s eyes landed on her.
She had seen him shudder at the sight of Emma embracing Mr. Bingley, but when he turned his gaze to Jane, he smiled.
She was still posing with her sister on the divan, holding the small basket of fruit that reminded her of the one he had brought for her when Elizabeth had been in her place at the cottage.
The sisters had been assured by all their companions that they appeared to supreme advantage for their portraits, and Charlotte even impulsively added a few flowers to their hair to complete the whimsy of their depiction.
Jane was not used to making such a spectacle of herself, but she found that she had grown bold enough to hold Mr. Knightley’s stare as he took in the sight of her in her favorite new dress.
When the congratulations for Mr. Weston and Miss Taylor subsided, Emma and Mr. Bingley began to fill their friends in on their intention of planning a great many events in the next fortnight.
Mr. Weston was a cheerful man, fond of society and easily led into any scheme of pleasure, and he took to the notion with instant glee.
“Oh, yes, it is just the thing for such a gay time of year,” he agreed.
“We shall be outdoors nearly every day, and must have a great many dinners, too. Well! Perhaps an engagement dinner at Randalls, my dear Miss Taylor – and I daresay, Miss Woodhouse, this will be just the thing to lure Frank back to Highbury in no time at all.”
Jane flinched. Frank had called that morning at the cottage to bid her farewell before calling at Hartfield, despite telling Emma otherwise.
It had not been a pleasant visit, for their dispute about his behavior had not at all been resolved by his gift of the pianoforte.
Indeed, he had not even asked to hear her play the instrument, and she had been working that morning on composing a little something for Mr. Knightley’s musicale.
As it seemed their painting session was now at an end, Jane stood from her pose, standing up on her toes as she stretched from having sat so long in one attitude.
Mr. Knightley came toward her and extended his arm.
“It is very fine outdoors, and you have been sitting idly in the parlor all this while! Come, let us have some exercise and sunshine. What do you say, Miss Fairfax?”
“Perhaps we should walk outdoors for a while,” Emma said. “I forgot to ask if you had recovered fully from your headache, Jane.”
“Another headache?” Mr. Knightley frowned as he tucked Jane’s arm through his.
“I procured the remedy we spoke of a few days ago, from Mrs. Perry. I had not expected to see you, or I would have brought it. I am sure we all worry for you, Miss Fairfax; I will bring it to the cottage tomorrow morning.”
“That is very kind of you, sir,” Jane said as he led her from the parlor out into the garden. She could not like deceiving him, but to own to the truth was impossible. And perhaps it was no great falsehood to say that she was afflicted with a headache… by the name of Frank Churchill.
She was not insensible to the great compliment he paid her, both in taking such an interest in her health, and in singling her out to walk with.
Jane felt the agonies that had filled the beginning of her day fade away.
She chatted idly with Mr. Knightley about her reconciliation with Elizabeth, and she basked in the warmth of his praise.
After a quarter hour of meandering in pairs, Jane and Mr. Knightley, and the merry conspirators all converged at a large fountain near the back of the garden. Jane stared at the rippling water, feeling serene as a breeze cooled her face.
It was a few minutes before she became sensible to the conversation of her companions.
They were discussing what sort of entertainments they might arrange for their usual set of friends, and Jane was struck by a sudden idea that she eagerly wished to share with her sister.
She sat down beside Elizabeth, who had perched on the wide stone bench that encircled the fountain.
“It occurs to me that we might ask our grandmother what sort of entertainments were held the summer Mr. Bennet’s regiment was quartered in Highbury. Perhaps we might recreate such events, to remind them.”
Elizabeth nodded enthusiastically, and Emma turned away from Mr. Bingley to add her own approbation.
“We are the same age, are we not? Miss Taylor told me once that she attended an exploring party the year before I was born and she took charge of me – she and a large group of young people went to Box Hill. I wonder if Mr. Bennet or Miss Bates were of the party.”
“You have always wished to go to Box Hill, Emma,” Mr. Knightley said with a teasing look.
“I have, and perhaps we ought to do it anyhow.”
Mr. Knightley nodded as he considered this. “It would require a great deal of planning – and your father’s permission – but I believe it can be managed.”
Mr. Bingley clapped his hands merrily. “There is a picture of Box Hill in my bedchamber at Milton Hall – I have admired it daily since I first came to the manor. Well, how splendid! Yes, we must go as soon as can be arranged. Leave it to me; I shall take care of everything.”
Emma beamed at Mr. Bingley, and Jane saw something in Mr. Knightley’s gaze shutter.
She heartily wished, for his sake, that he might let Emma go, and be happy for her.
And perhaps she wished it just a little for her own sake, too.
She had not always believed that Emma deserved to be first in Mr. Knightley’s heart, but she thought there was a beautiful possibility of Emma and Mr. Bingley making one another absurdly happy.
Their party was soon broken up when Mr. Woodhouse and his eldest daughter returned with her boisterous children.
The sisters agreed to speak to the grandmother, and they promised to report back to Emma so that they might begin planning to replicate the events that had first brought their guardians together.
This was easily accomplished the next day; Jane contrived for Bessie Hill to invite Miss Bates to tea so that Mrs. Bates could speak candidly to her granddaughters.
The sardonic old lady was delighted by their devious yet romantic scheme, and she supplied them with a wealth of information, though it was often laced with bitter condemnation of Mr. Bennet’s great error in not marrying her daughter when he had the chance.
As promised, Mr. Knightley also visited the next day to deliver the new headache remedy he had sought on her behalf; Jane could not bear deceiving him, and felt obliged to drink the special blend of herbal tea anyhow.
It proved a very soothing comfort to her, in the quiet hours at home when she had little to do but ponder her miserable betrothal to Frank Churchill.
On Sunday, the absent Mr. Elton’s curate read the banns for the three betrothed couples in church.
Feeling the pressure to achieve their great wish in the next fortnight, Jane and Elizabeth composed a letter to Lady Gresham, asking their aunt to make discreet inquiries about Miss Bingley while in London.
A letter arrived from Frank that Jane waited a full twenty-four hours before opening.
When she did read it, she felt nothing at all at his flowery prose.
He seemed content to pretend their quarrel had never taken place, that he had never wounded her with his behavior.
Jane could only ignore him in return, and in a moment of disconcerting numbness, she cast his letter into the fire.
On Tuesday, but a week after Emma fairly badgered him into it, Mr. Knightley hosted the musicale at Donwell Abbey.
Jane, Elizabeth, and Emma had practiced every day, either at Hartfield or at Milton Hall, and had even suspended their painting scheme to devote themselves to their music.
It had been a relief for Jane to practice with them, for she could not bring herself to enjoy the new instrument that filled her family’s parlor.
All the young ladies but for Charlotte were to perform a song or two.
Charlotte had never learnt, though she assured them that if she ever had, she would have been a great proficient.
She did her part, however, in helping her friends select their music for the evening, choose songs that glorified youthful attachments, lost lovers being reunited, and wicked ladies meeting with a horrible demise.
Miss Taylor and Isabella Knightley opened the evening with a lovely duet, and Emma sang to Miss Taylor’s accompaniment before taking to the piano herself.
Elizabeth was meant to sing as Emma played, but instead she grinned brightly at her friend as Mr. Bingley took his place beside Emma and performed in Elizabeth’s stead.
He sang exceedingly well, and Emma appeared entirely aware of it; Jane heartily congratulated her sister for this bit of mischief, and so did Mr. Darcy.
Jane played and sang next, and then came the song she was most looking forward to.
Emma returned to the instrument and played a tune she knew well, though Jane had written new lyrics to fit the melody.
She and Elizabeth sang side by side, wearing matching dresses Elizabeth had instead upon ordering especially for the occasion.
Jane’s new lyrics told the story of two twin sisters separated until their twenty-first year before being reunited by chance, only to have the delight of their estranged guardians falling in love.