Emma found no reason to change her ill opinion of Mrs. Elton. Her observation had been correct. The way Mrs. Elton appeared to Emma at Hartfield—self-important, familiar, presuming, ignorant, cold skinned, and ill bred—was the same way she appeared whenever they met again. And the touch of her hand produced the same annoying, jolting shock as her husband’s.
Mrs. Elton had a little beauty and a little accomplishment, but she thought herself coming with superior knowledge of the world to enliven and improve a country neighbourhood.
Mr. Elton seemed not merely happy with his new wife but proud. He had the air of congratulating himself on having brought such a woman to Highbury. And most people in town assumed Mrs. Elton must be as clever and as agreeable as she herself claimed. Emma very politely continued talking about her as being “very pleasant and very elegantly dressed.”
Mrs. Elton grew even worse than she had appeared at first—her feelings towards Emma changed. Probably offended that Emma did not return her offers of friendship, she drew back and gradually became much more cold and distant. Mrs. Elton—and Mr. Elton too—became sneering and negligent. When they had nothing else to say, it was always easy to begin by abusing Emma.
And their manners towards Harriet were unpleasant. The venom and lack of heart which they dared not show openly towards Emma found a broader vent in contemptuous treatment of Harriet. And their persistent red-eyed stares at Harriet’s fair neck and bosom only increased her discomfort.
But the person to whom Mrs. Elton took a great fancy from the first was Jane Fairfax. And without being asked, she wanted to befriend Miss Fairfax and assist her in finding a governess position.
“Jane Fairfax is absolutely charming. I quite rave about Jane Fairfax. A sweet, interesting creature. So mild and ladylike—and with such extraordinary talents! We must bring her talent forward. She is very timid and silent. One can see that she feels the need of encouragement. I like timidity; in those who are inferior, it is extremely pleasing.” I must restrain myself, however, she thought, from certain lusty thoughts about her blood.
“I shall certainly have Jane Fairfax very often to my house, shall introduce her wherever I can, shall have musical parties to draw out her talents, and shall be constantly on the watch for an eligible position for her. My acquaintances are so very extensive that I have little doubt of hearing of something to suit her very shortly.”
“Poor Jane Fairfax!” said Emma to herself. “She has not deserved this. She may have done wrong with regard to Mr. Dixon, but this is a punishment beyond what she can have merited—the kindness and protection of Mrs. Elton!”
Emma was not long compelled to listen to Mrs. Elton’s tiresome speeches or stare into her cold, unblinking red eyes. Mrs. Elton’s dislike for Emma soon appeared, and she was left in peace.
She looked at Mrs. Elton’s attentions to Jane Fairfax with some amusement. Emma’s only surprise was that Jane accepted those attentions and tolerated Mrs. Elton as she seemed to do.
Emma heard of Jane walking with the Eltons, sitting with the Eltons, spending a day with the Eltons! This was astonishing! She could not believe that the good taste or pride of Miss Fairfax could endure such a friendship as the vicarage had to offer.
To Emma, Jane Fairfax was a riddle. She had planned to be in Highbury for three months while the Campbells were in Ireland. But now the Campbells had decided to stay at least till midsummer and had invited Jane to join them abroad.
According to Miss Bates—it all came from her—Jane’s dear friend Mrs. Dixon had written most pressingly. Would Jane go? But still she had declined it!
She must have some motive, more powerful than appears, for refusing this invitation, was Emma’s conclusion. There is great fear, great caution, and great resolution somewhere. Somebody is forbidding her to be with the Dixons. But why must she be with the Eltons? Here is quite a puzzle.
Emma could not understand Jane’s peculiar friendship with Mrs. Elton. When she wondered aloud to Mrs. Weston and Mr. Knightley, both of whom knew Emma’s opinion of Mrs. Elton, Mrs. Weston ventured this apology for Jane: “We cannot suppose that Miss Fairfax has any great enjoyment at the vicarage, my dear Emma, but it is better than being always at home. Her aunt is a good creature, but as a constant companion Miss Bates must be very tiresome.”
“You are right, Mrs. Weston,” said Mr. Knightley warmly. “If Miss Fairfax could have chosen with whom to associate, she would not have chosen Mrs. Elton. But,” with a reproachful smile at Emma, “she receives attentions from Mrs. Elton which nobody else pays her.”
With a faint blush, Emma presently replied, “Such attentions as Mrs. Elton’s, I should imagine, would disgust rather than gratify Miss Fairfax.”
“Another thing must be taken into consideration, too,” said Mr. Knightley. “You may be sure that Mrs. Elton is awed by Miss Fairfax’s superiority both of mind and manner. Such a woman as Jane Fairfax probably never fell into Mrs. Elton’s circle before—and no degree of vanity can prevent her from acknowledging her own comparative inferiority.” And, thought he, Jane Fairfax would be the closest Mrs. Elton would ever get to tasty aristocratic blood.
“Mr. Knightley, I know how highly you think of Jane Fairfax,” said Emma. Her little nephew Henry was in her thoughts, and a mixture of alarm and delicacy made her unsure what else to say.
“Yes,” he replied, as his black eyes glowed, “anybody may know how highly I think of Jane Fairfax.”
“And yet, perhaps,” said Emma, “you may hardly be aware yourself how highly it is. The extent of your admiration may take you by surprise some day or other.”
Emma felt her foot pressed by Mrs. Weston.
In a moment Mr. Knightly replied, “That will never be, however, I can assure you. Miss Fairfax, I daresay, would not have me if I were to ask her—and I am very sure I shall never ask her.” Mr. Knightley paused, then said, in a manner which showed him not pleased, “So you have been deciding that I should marry Jane Fairfax?”
“No, indeed I have not,” said Emma. “You have scolded me too much for matchmaking for me to presume to take such a liberty with you. What I said just now meant nothing. Oh, no! Upon my word, I have not the smallest wish for your marrying Jane Fairfax or Jane Anybody.”
Mr. Knightley was thoughtful again. The result of his reverie was, “No, Emma, I never had a thought of her in that way, I assure you.” And soon afterwards, “Jane Fairfax is a very charming young woman—but not even Jane Fairfax is perfect. She has a fault. She has not the open temper which a man would wish for in a wife, despite her fair white neck and delicate manner.”
Emma could not but rejoice to hear that Jane Fairfax had a fault.
“Jane Fairfax has feeling,” continued Mr. Knightley. “Her sensibilities, I suspect, are strong and her temper excellent in its power of forbearance, patience, and self-control—but it lacks openness. She is more reserved, I think, than she used to be, and I love an open temper. I converse with Jane Fairfax with admiration and pleasure always—but with no thought beyond.”
“Well, Mrs. Weston,” said Emma triumphantly after he departed, “what do you now say to Mr. Knightley’s marrying Jane Fairfax?”
“Why, really, dear Emma, I say that he is so occupied by the idea of not being in love with her, that I should not be surprised if, in the end, he is in love with her after all.”