Mrs. Elton was quite anxious to take an excursion; she settled on a visit to Box Hill country park. Emma and Mr. Weston had also been planning a trip there—Emma had never been, and she wished to see what everybody found so well worth seeing.
Emma and Mr. Weston had agreed to invite two or three more to join them, and it was to be done in a quiet, unpretending, elegant way, infinitely superior to the bustle, preparation, and picnic parade of the Eltons.
Emma was surprised, then, and felt a little displeasure, on hearing from Mr. Weston that he had invited the Eltons to join their group and that Mrs. Elton had very readily accepted.
Mr. Weston had to be aware of Emma’s very great dislike of Mrs. Elton, but since Emma did not want to offend Mrs. Weston, she found herself obliged to consent to the arrangement.
“I am glad you approve of what I have done,” said Mr. Weston very comfortably. “But I thought you would. And Mrs. Elton is a good-natured woman after all. One could not leave her out.”
Emma denied none of it aloud and agreed to none of it in private.
It was now the middle of June and the weather fine. Mrs. Elton was growing impatient to name the day and settle with Mr. Weston as to pigeon pies and cold lamb for those mortals in the group who required food.
But then the Eltons’ carriage horse became lame and threw everything into sad uncertainty. It might be weeks before the horse was usable, and so preparations could not be continued.
“Is this not most annoying, Knightley?” she cried. “These delays and disappointments are quite odious. What are we to do?”
“You could explore Donwell Abbey,” replied Mr. Knightley. “That may be done without horses. The mortals may eat my strawberries. They are ripening fast. And besides, it would present a convenient opportunity to gather all our friends about us and organise a definitive attack to rid Highbury of the secret nest of wild, vagrant vampires.
“Oh! I should like it of all things!” said Mrs. Elton.
Donwell Abbey was famous for its strawberry patches, but for a lady who just wanted to go somewhere—anywhere—cabbage patches would have been enough to tempt Mrs. Elton.
“You may depend upon me,” said she. “I certainly will come. Name your day and I shall come. You will allow me to bring Jane Fairfax?”
“I cannot name a day,” said he, “till I have spoken to the others whom I would wish to attend.”
“Oh! Leave all that to me. Give me a carte blanche. I am Lady Patroness, you know. It is my party. I shall bring friends with me.”
“I trust you will bring Mr. Elton,” said he, “but I shall give out all the other invitations.”
“Oh! Now you are looking very sly. It is my party. Leave it all to me. I shall invite your guests.”
“No,” he calmly replied, “there is but one woman in the world whom I would ever allow to invite whatever guests she pleases to Donwell, and that one is—”
“Mrs. Weston, I suppose,” interrupted Mrs. Elton, rather mortified.
“No, it is Mrs. Knightley. And until she exists, I shall manage such matters myself.”
“Ah! You are an odd creature, even for a vampire!” she cried. “You are quite the humourist. Well, I shall bring Jane and her aunt with me—the rest I leave to you.”
Mr. Knightley was fortunate in everybody’s most ready acceptance, for a universal desire permeated the society of Highbury to consume strawberries and plan the final vampire battle. Mr. Weston promised to get Frank over to join them. Mr. Knightley was disappointed but said he should be glad to see Frank.
Meanwhile, the lame horse recovered so fast that the excursion to Box Hill was now possible. It was agreed that Donwell would be attended one day and Box Hill the next, providing the weather appeared exactly right.
***
It was so long since Emma had been at Donwell Abbey that she was eager to refresh her memory. The house was larger than Hartfield, rambling and irregular, with many comfortable and handsome rooms. Its ample gardens stretched down to meadows washed by a stream.
Rich pastures, the orchard in bloom—Emma felt an increasing respect for it, as the residence of a family of such true gentility. She had pleasant feelings about the Abbey, and she walked about and indulged them till it was necessary to join the others round the strawberry beds.
The whole party was assembled, except Frank Churchill, who was expected any moment from Richmond. Mrs. Elton, in her large bonnet and basket, was very ready to lead the way in gathering and accepting strawberries.
Afterwards, seats were found in the shade to escape the heat. Mr. Knightley proposed his plan of action for the vampire raid; all were invited to contribute their various thoughts on the matter; and within a short time, a consensus was reached as to the specific date of the attack and the strategy with which to implement it.
Afterwards, as the group engaged in small conversations, Emma was able to overhear what Mrs. Elton and Jane Fairfax were talking of.
Mrs. Elton had received word that morning of a most desirable governess position for Jane and was in raptures. It was with an acquaintance of Mrs. Elton’s in Maple Grove.
The situation was delightful, charming, superior, everything—and Mrs. Elton was wild to have Jane accept the offer immediately. Miss Fairfax continued to assure her that she would not at present engage in anything.
Still, Mrs. Elton insisted on being authorised to write an acceptance letter by tomorrow. At last, it was more than Jane could bear. She proposed a walk. “Would Mr. Knightley show them the gardens—all the gardens?”
During this walk, Emma noticed Mr. Knightley and Harriet strolling apart from the rest of the party, quietly leading the way. Mr. Knightley and Harriet! It was an odd sight, but Emma was glad to see it. There had been a time when Mr. Knightley would have scorned Harriet as a companion. Now they seemed in pleasant conversation, perhaps finding a common bond in vampire slaying.
Next they all went into the house to eat, and they were all seated and busy, but still Frank Churchill did not come. Mrs. Weston looked and looked in vain. Frank had assured them he would come.
The meal was over, the food half-eaten, and the party went outside to see the Abbey fishponds. Mr. Woodhouse chose to stay inside, and Emma remained with him.
Emma walked into the hall, when suddenly Jane Fairfax appeared, coming in quickly from the garden with a look of escape about her.
Startled at seeing Emma, Jane said, “Will you be so kind to tell everyone that I am gone home? I am going this moment. I have said nothing about it to anybody. It would only be giving trouble and distress.”
“Certainly, if you wish—but you are not going to walk to Highbury alone, are you?”
“Yes—what should hurt me? I walk fast. I shall be at home in twenty minutes.”
“But it is too far, indeed it is, to be walking quite alone. And with all the danger lurking about. Let me order the carriage. It can be round in five minutes.”
“Thank you, but no, Miss Woodhouse. The greatest kindness you can show me would be to let me have my own way and only mention that I am gone when it becomes necessary.”
“Have you any silver on your person, Jane, to ward off an attacker?”
“Why yes, I am wearing my charm bracelet.”
Emma had not another word to oppose. She watched Jane safely off with the zeal of a friend. Jane’s parting look was grateful, and her parting words were, “Oh! Miss Woodhouse, the comfort of being sometimes alone!” Emma thought they seemed to burst from an overcharged heart.
Jane had not been gone a quarter of an hour when Frank Churchill entered the room. Emma had not been thinking of him—she had forgotten to think of him—but she was very glad to see him.
He had been detained by a nervous seizure in his aunt. The heat was excessive; he almost wished he had stayed at home, and he sat down in a foul mood.
“You will soon be cooler if you sit still,” said Emma.
“As soon as I am cooler I shall go back home again. I felt I had to come—it was expected of me! But I should not have come! Madness in such weather, absolute madness!”
Emma listened, looked, and recommended his taking some refreshment to calm his anger.
“No, there is only one thing I should desire to drink right now, but you would not oblige me, I am sure!” and he stalked off.
Emma thought to herself, “I am glad I am done being in love with him. I should not like a man who is so soon discomposed by a hot morning. Harriet’s sweet, easy temper will not mind it.”
He was gone long enough to have cooled down, coming back with good manners. He was not in his best spirits but seemed trying to improve them.
“As soon as my aunt gets well I shall go to Switzerland and escape this dreadful heat,” said he. “I shall never be calm till I have seen some of those places.”
“You will never go to Switzerland. Your uncle and aunt will never allow you to leave England.”
“I ought to travel. I am tired of doing nothing. I want a change. I am serious, Miss Woodhouse. Whatever your penetrating eyes may fancy, I am sick of England and would leave it tomorrow if I could.”
“You are merely sick of prosperity and comfort. Cannot you invent a few hardships for yourself and be contented to stay?”
“You are quite mistaken. I do not look upon myself as either prosperous or comfortable. I do not consider myself at all a fortunate person. Look at these black eyes. If only you knew what I require to satisfy them!”
“We are going to Box Hill tomorrow—join us. It is not Switzerland, but it will be something for a young man so much in want of a change.”
“No, certainly not.”
The rest of the party was now returning and all were soon collected. With some, there was great joy at the sight of Frank Churchill; others, not so. But there was distress and disturbance upon Miss Fairfax’s disappearance being explained.
Then it was time for everybody to go and with a final arrangement for the next day’s excursion and satisfaction that they had conceived a viable plan to rid the countryside of vampires, they parted.
Frank Churchill’s last words to Emma were “Well, if you wish me to go to Box Hill, I shall.”
She smiled her acceptance.