Chapter 7
The Impasse
You will recognize some of Jane Austen's words interspersed. I did some adjusting and maneuvering of what the original had. This seemed a better fit for the Harriet scene; you'll recognize what is hers and what is not. Not meant to be plagiarism, simply a scene that would better be left as close to the original as possible. Cheers!
Mr. Knightley had been correct.
It had not been a poor solution and true to his word he had far better manners than Virgil.
If should not have been too great a surprise. Afterall, as much as Emma often refused to admit it, he was generally right about most things.
That said, she did her best not to allow the fact that she knew this to be true to reach Mr. Knightley's awareness. It would do nothing but inflate his pride and go to his head.
Men needn't think themselves right all of the time, and for this reason, she wouldn't encourage it in her husband.
She had also been correct in that another body seemed to prove just the solution to the coldness to which she had grown hopelessly accustomed. It had been three nights since the adjustment and she had gotten quite used to waking up feeling warm and having a warm arm draped over her shoulder or waist.
It solved for the pangs of loneliness that she had been faced with up until that point. Emma felt there was something about talking to Mr. Knightley at night that put her mind at ease. It was reminiscent of the hours they would spend at the fire talking with her father into the evening, sometimes as Mr. Woodhouse was sleeping in his chair. And yet it was closer than those moments; more intimate in that they were directly next to one another, she could feel him breathing next to her, and no other person was present.
It was also an easy cure for the fear and nightmares that had been a fixture since her father's death. Most noticeable was that Mrs. Knightley had not trespassed on her dreams since Mr. Knightley was at her side. For this, she was eternally thankful.
Everything indicated that the new routine was a good one and that they ought to continue with the new system. Provided Mr. Knightley found it as agreeable as she did; he had not voiced an opinion otherwise and did not seem dissatisfied, yet she hadn't the bravery to ask him directly what his thoughts were on their new sleeping arraignment. She did not wish to imagine the awkwardness of bringing up that subject, the sheer thought of it caused a blush and made her want to push it from her mind and think nothing more of it.
Emma was expecting Harriet Smith to arrive any moment for tea. She busied herself in the front parlor checking to make sure the fire was hot enough, moving a flower arrangement to an area more to her liking.
Donwell was beautiful, it was clean and polished and dwarfed Hartfield in sheer size. But despite its size, it was not austere or unwelcoming—well, save for Mrs. Knightley's room which was an unfortunate coincidence.
Emma could perfectly imagine hosting a ball at Donwell; the rooms were large enough for dancing. The attractiveness of the instrument alone would encourage duets and provide entertainment.
It would make the Coles' party seem a sad affair, and although they were in trade, Emma had thought they had hosted some of the more entertaining parties, and yet she could never speak it aloud.
She would have to ask Mr. Knightley if she might host a party—although she could not imagine him saying no. It reminded her of what Isabella had hissed at her in a rage more than a month prior. She could not find a falsehood in what her sister had claimed then, although she had not wished to hear it at the time.
Emma had had Mr. Knightley wrapped around her finger since her childhood. And as Isabella had said, he did not have any greater chance telling her no than any of the rest of the family had.
She knew her sister had intended it to hurt her. And at the time it had.
Yet with time and reflection, it seemed the statement was true.
She felt it was not a bad thing, nor a good thing, simply true. Though she thought she might be mindful not to take advantage of the fact.
Harriet Smith arrived then retrieving her from her reverie.
Emma was glad for the distraction.
Harriet was in a state unlike Emma had ever seen, she had not known her to be one of high spirits or much energy and yet as she entered Emma felt she looked almost frantic.
"Oh Emma, I have so much to say and I am not certain enough air in my lungs or thoughts in my head to rightly express it! I returned home from walking and I learned that Mr. Martin had been there an hour before. As I was not at home, he left a parcel and in addition to the return of some music I had lent to his sister, there was also a letter enclosed from Mr. Martin himself"
True to her word, Harriet paused to gasp for air. The pause was short lived as she quickly continued again.
"As you may have expected, this letter was from him, from Mr. Martin and it contained a direct proposal of marriage!"
"Who could have thought it?" Harriet giggled with surprise. She was so surprised she did not know what to do with herself. She turned her hands together.
In her nervousness she kept talking, "Yes, quite a proposal of marriage; and a very good letter, at least I thought so. And he wrote as if he really loves me very much—partly I am out of breath because I came here as fast as I was able. I knew that you would know exactly what I should do!" Harriet explained.
Emma was shocked, perfectly shocked and somewhat mortified by her friend's wild reaction.
She was also an even mixture of humored and ashamed at seeing Harriet such a combination of pleasure and doubtfully confusion.
It was impossibly rude of this Mr. Martin to fix his sentiments in a letter as he had, amongst the post from his sister as well; it almost seemed a perfect afterthought.
Emma almost scoffed aloud but somehow contained the disdain she felt rising.
"Upon my word," she cried, "this Mr. Martin is determined not to lose anything for want of asking."
Harriet did not seem to notice her reaction or at least did not shy away from it.
"It is a very good letter, might you read it?" Harriet ask thrusting the letter towards Emma quickly, her hands moving as her mouth did, rapidly and wildly.
Emma was not sorry to be pressed. She read and was surprised. The style of the letter was much above her expectation. There were no grammatical errors, but as a composition, it would not have disgraced a gentleman; the language, though plain, was strong and unaffected, and the sentiments it conveyed very much to the credit of the writer.
It was short but expressed good sense, warm attachment, liberality, propriety, even delicacy of feeling. She paused over it, while Harriet stood anxiously watching for her opinion, "Well, well," and was at last forced to add, "Is it a good letter? or is it too short?"
"Yes, indeed, a very good letter," replied Emma rather slowly—"so good a letter, Harriet, that everything considered, I think one of his sisters must have helped him. And yet it is not the style of a woman; no, certainly, it is too strong and concise; not diffuse enough for a woman. No doubt he is a sensible man, and I suppose may have a natural talent for—thinks strongly and clearly—and when he takes a pen in hand, his thoughts naturally find proper words. It is so with some men. Yes, I understand the sort of mind. Vigorous, decided, with sentiments to a certain point, not coarse. It is better written than I had expected." Emma concluded feeling she hadn't more to say, and handing the letter back to Harriet.
"Well," Harriet spoke," well—and—and what shall I do?"
"What shall you do! In what respect? Do you mean with regard to this letter?"
"Yes."
"Well, you must answer it of course—and speedily."
"Yes. But what shall I say? Oh please, do advise me!" Harriet exclaimed.
"Oh no, Harriet, the letter must be all your own. You will express yourself very properly, I am sure. There is no danger of your not being intelligible, which is the first thing. Your meaning must be unequivocal; no doubts or demurs: and such expressions of gratitude and concern for the pain you are inflicting as propriety requires, will present themselves unbidden to your mind, I am persuaded. You need not be prompted to write with the appearance of sorrow for his disappointment."
"You think I ought to refuse him then," said Harriet, looking down.
"Ought to refuse him? Oh, my dear Harriet, what do you mean? Are you in any doubt as to the nature of your reply? I thought—perhaps I have been under some confusion. I certainly have been misunderstanding you. I had imagined you were consulting me only as to the wording of it."
Harriet was silent. With a reserved of manner, that seemed contradictory to the frantic manner of mere minutes earlier.
Emma continued, "I gather that you mean to return a favourable answer,"
"No, I do not—that is—I don't know. What shall I do? What would you advise me to do? Please, friend, tell me what I ought to do."
"No Harriet, I shall not give you any advice on that. I will have nothing to do with it. This is a point which you must settle with your feelings."
"I had no notion that he liked me so very much," said Harriet, contemplating the letter.
For a little while Emma persevered in her silence; but beginning to apprehend the bewitching flattery of that letter might be too powerful, she thought it best to say,"I lay it down as a general rule, Harriet, that if a woman doubts as to whether she should accept a man or not, she certainly ought to refuse him. If she can hesitate as to `Yes,' she ought to say `No' directly."
Harriet looked wide-eyed at Emma, "As you say, one's mind ought to be quite made up—One should not be hesitating—It is a very serious thing.—It will be safer to say `No,' perhaps.—Do you think I had better say `No?'"
"Not for the world would I advise you either way. Harriet, you must be the best judge of your own happiness. If you prefer Mr. Martin to every other person; if you think him the most agreeable man you have ever been in company with, why should you hesitate? You blush, Harriet.—Does anybody else occur to you at this moment under such a definition? Harriet, Harriet, do not deceive yourself; do not be run away with by gratitude and compassion."
Harriet had the appearance of a person in deep thought, her brows were pressed tightly and her lips pressed outward in concentration.
Emma waited for the result with impatience, but not without strong hopes. At last, with some hesitation, Harriet said— "As you will not give me your opinion, I must do as well as I can by myself; and I have now quite determined, and really almost made up my mind—to refuse Mr. Martin. Do you think I am right?"
"Perfectly, perfectly right, my dearest Harriet; you are doing just what you ought. While you were at all in suspense I kept my feelings to myself, but now that you are so completely decided I have no hesitation in approving. Dear Harriet, I give myself the joy of this. It would have grieved me to lose your acquaintance, which must have been the consequence of your marrying Mr. Martin. While you were in the smallest degree wavering, I said nothing about it, because I would not influence; but it would have been the loss of a friend to me. I could not have visited Mrs. Robert Martin, of Abbey-Mill Farm. Now I am secure of you forever."
"Let us celebrate this decision with tea and cakes and then you will pen the letter that will politely and graciously refuse Mr. Martin. It will not be a pleasant business but the delightful cakes cook makes will surely give you the fortitude and strength needed!" Emma encouraged.
Harriet nodded thoughtfully.
It seemed to Emma ages from when Harriet had penned the letter and left for Mrs. Goddard's to the time Mr. Knightley returned home.
She would not tell him that she had missed him, but that seemed to be the feeling that best described the sentiment she had felt.
After the wild morning, the house had felt rather subdued and empty after Harriet had left; Harriet herself was in a much more relaxed mood. Emma felt as if that alone was a sure sign that something had been done correctly.
"You are home at last," Emma stated smiling slightly, mostly preoccupied with observing her husband as he entered.
"Yes, I am home, and later than expected but you will not be cross with me when you find out the cause. A few days ago I met with a tenant and businessman who farms at Abbey-Mill on happenstance. We both had business near the market at Abbey-Mill and he had a burning question on his mind a sought my advice,"
"I see, and he felt you might give him the answer he sought?" Emma nodded, feeling she knew how this story would conclude but urged him to continue.
"Yes, he wanted an unbiased opinion on his business affairs and ultimately the word of someone he respected on whether he was in a suitable place to be married,"
Emma nodded. "Tea?" she asked him and he nodded agreement as he continued. "He told me all about his current circumstances and his plans for improvement and expansion. I give him credit; he is a smart man who has made intelligent investments and works hard to run his farm. His ideas for expansion were sound as well, it is clear he has a sense of timing and a high degree of resourcefulness. I told him I saw nothing that should prevent a marriage,"
"Surely he was very pleased, I dare say you made his day" Emma told him "and you are right, I am not mad that you are later than expected, you have done a good thing," Emma smiled cheerfully at him, handing him a cup of tea.
"Well, that is just it, that conversation was days ago and just this day as I was returning by way of the north road to Highbury I passed the farmer, Mr. Martin,"
"Mr. Martin!" Emma exclaimed.
"Yes, the very same," Mr. Knightley confided. "It turns out that he needed to come to Highbury for business and the timing of meeting me a few days prior could not have been better."
"This is very surprising," Emma stated, unable to look fully at her husband's face. He looked so pleased with himself and so happy for his friend.
"Yes, and yet the surprise is still greater. Emma, I have reason to think that your good friend, Harriet Smith, will soon have an offer of marriage" he told her, his voice was almost a whisper but his tone had an upbeat zeal that allowed her insight into his opinion of the matter. Her own husband felt this to be a good thing.
He took her silence for shock and continued, "This summer, Harriet visited Abbey-Mill, and since that time he has been desperately in love and know that he now means to marry her."
"Oh, naturally he is agreeable to the idea of marrying Harriet," said Emma "but is he so certain that Harriet means to marry him?"
"He is an excellent farmer and a good man, and at the summer visit, it was clear her feelings for Mr. Martin were amiable. She could have no reason to refuse him," Mr. Knightley stated
"Oh, yes I forgot. It is always incomprehensible to a man that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage. "Emma let out a giggle to soften the words. There was something about her husband's words 'she could have no reason to refuse' that placed her on edge and incited her to spar with him.
He looked surprised, "I should have said it is unlikely that she will refuse," he corrected, watching her face as if trying to discern the shift in her mood.
"It is not so unlikely!" Emma stated with a pique spirit and then a sigh, "I see it is my turn to tell you something, your friend Mr. Martin did speak, or rather he left his query in a note amidst another post if you will believe it, and he was refused."
"Are you certain?" Mr. Knightley actually looked red with surprise and displeasure, as he stood up, in tall indignation, and said, "Then she is a greater simpleton than I ever believed her. What is the foolish girl about?"
"The fault is not with Harriet! It is not her fault that a man always imagines a woman to be ready for anybody who asks her." Emma announced with a scoff, standing to be on the same footing as her husband.
"Nonsense! a man does not imagine any such thing. But what is the meaning of this? Harriet Smith refused Robert Martin! This is madness, if it is true but I hope you are mistaken."
"I am not mistaken, I saw her answer!—it could not have been clearer."
"You saw her answer! What you mean to say is that you wrote her answer! Oh, Emma, this is your doing. It angers me so deeply to know it. I believe that you persuaded her to refuse him."
"I will not own to that Mr. Knightley, but if I did dissuade her, I should not feel that I had done wrong. Mr. Martin though a very respectable young man is not Harriet's equal; and I was shocked that he would have ventured to address her."
"Not Harriet's equal!" exclaimed Mr. Knightley loudly and warmly; and with calmer brusqueness, added, a few moments afterward, "No, he is not her equal indeed, for he is as much her superior in sense as in situation. Emma, your infatuation about that girl blinds you. What are Harriet Smith's claims, either of birth, nature or education, to any connection higher than Robert Martin? She is the natural daughter of nobody knows whom, with probably no settled provision at all, and certainly no respectable relations. She is known only as parlour-boarder at a common school. She is not a sensible girl, nor a girl of any information. She has been taught nothing useful and is too young and too simple to have acquired anything herself. At her age, she can have no experience, and with her little wit, is not very likely ever to have any that can avail her. She is pretty, and she is good tempered, and that is all. My only scruple in advising the match was on his account, as being beneath his deserts, and a bad connection for him. I felt that, as to fortune, in all probability, he might do much better; and that as to a rational companion or useful helpmate, he could not do worse. But I could not reason so to a man in love and was willing to trust to there being no harm in her, to her having that sort of disposition, which, in good hands, like his, might be easily led aright and turn out very well. The advantage of the match I felt to be all on her side and had not the smallest doubt (nor have I now) that there would be a general cry-out upon her extreme good luck. Even your satisfaction I made sure of. It crossed my mind immediately that you would not regret your friend's leaving Highbury, for the sake of her being settled so well. I remember saying to myself, `Even Emma, with all her partiality for Harriet, will think this a good match.'"
"I cannot help wondering at your knowing so little of me as to say any such thing!" Emma offered in a gasped out huff. This was entirely incredulous! A farmer, a simple farmer, excellent or not, could not be a match for her intimate friend. She told him as much and watched the colour climb his face.
He was not pleased. Well, neither was she, it suited that he should be disgruntled as well.
"I know you are a friend of Robert Martin, but you have not treated my friend favorably in your estimation. She has better sense than you are aware of and does not deserve to have her understanding spoken of so slightingly. You describe her as only pretty and good-natured, let me tell you, that in the degree she possesses them, they are not trivial recommendations to the world in general, for she is, in fact, a beautiful girl, and must be thought so by ninety-nine people out of a hundred; and until it appears that men are much more philosophic on the subject of beauty than they are generally supposed; until they do fall in love with well-informed minds instead of handsome faces, a girl, with such loveliness as Harriet, has a certainty of being admired and sought after, of having the power to pick and choose. Her good-nature too is an asset. I am very much mistaken if your sex, in general, would not think such beauty, and such temper, the highest claims a woman could possess."
"Upon my word, Emma, to hear you abusing the reason you have, is almost enough to make me think so too. Better be without sense, than misapply it as you do."
"To be sure!" cried she playfully. "I know that such a girl as Harriet is exactly what every man delights in—what at once bewitches his senses and satisfies his judgment. Oh! Harriet may pick and choose. Were you, yourself, unmarried, she is the very woman for you. And is at seventeen, just entering into life, just beginning to be known, to be wondered at because she does not accept the first offer she receives? No—pray let her have time to look around and consider her options!"
"Emma, I am disappointed and frustrated that you have given your friend unwise counsel. You have given her such wild ideas of her own beauty and an imagination full of what her rightful claim might have been. Sadly, this will be to Harriet's disservice as nobody within your imagined pool of suitors will want her because of all she lacks and the Robert Martins will be refused because nobody within her actual reach will be good enough for her "said Mr. Knightley sternly.
"It is not as you say!" Emma countered.
"Emma, men of sense, whatever you may say, do not want silly wives!"
"Well—that! I say—"She was speechless and sputtering and he was walking away. "You cannot just ignore me!" and he seemed to be doing exactly that as he moved farther from her. "George!" She called out in haste after him and thought for a moment he might turn back to look at her, but he kept his pace and quit the room.
A/N: Here you are! Very much appreciated all the feedback and encouragement last chapter. Thank you so much for the reviews, they warmed my heart!
