Emma

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Mr. Weston was a native of Highbury, and born of a respectable

family, which for the last two or three generations had been rising

into gentility and property. He had received a good education, but,

on succeeding early in life to a small independence, had become

indisposed for any of the more homely pursuits in which his

brothers were engaged, and had satisfied an active, cheerful mind

and social temper by entering into the militia of his county, then

embodied.

Captain Weston was a general favourite; and when the chances of

his military life had introduced him to Miss Churchill, of a great

Yorkshire family, and Miss Churchill fell in love with him, nobody

was surprized, except her brother and his wife, who had never seen

him, and who were full of pride and importance, which the connexion

would offend.

Miss Churchill, however, being of age, and with the full command

of her fortune—though her fortune bore no proportion to the

family-estate—was not to be dissuaded from the marriage, and it

took place, to the infinite mortification of Mr. and Mrs.

Churchill, who threw her off with due decorum. It was an unsuitable

connexion, and did not produce much happiness. Mrs. Weston ought to

have found more in it, for she had a husband whose warm heart and

sweet temper made him think every thing due to her in return for

the great goodness of being in love with him; but though she had

one sort of spirit, she had not the best. She had resolution enough

to pursue her own will in spite of her brother, but not enough to

refrain from unreasonable regrets at that brother's unreasonable

anger, nor from missing the luxuries of her former home. They lived

beyond their income, but still it was nothing in comparison of

Enscombe: she did not cease to love her husband, but she wanted at

once to be the wife of Captain Weston, and Miss Churchill of

Enscombe.

Captain Weston, who had been considered, especially by the

Churchills, as making such an amazing match, was proved to have

much the worst of the bargain; for when his wife died, after a

three years' marriage, he was rather a poorer man than at first,

and with a child to maintain. From the expense of the child,

however, he was soon relieved. The boy had, with the additional

softening claim of a lingering illness of his mother's, been the

means of a sort of reconciliation; and Mr. and Mrs. Churchill,

having no children of their own, nor any other young creature of

equal kindred to care for, offered to take the whole charge of the

little Frank soon after her decease. Some scruples and some

reluctance the widower-father may be supposed to have felt; but as

they were overcome by other considerations, the child was given up

to the care and the wealth of the Churchills, and he had only his

own comfort to seek, and his own situation to improve as he

could.

A complete change of life became desirable. He quitted the

militia and engaged in trade, having brothers already established

in a good way in London, which afforded him a favourable opening.

It was a concern which brought just employment enough. He had still

a small house in Highbury, where most of his leisure days were

spent; and between useful occupation and the pleasures of society,

the next eighteen or twenty years of his life passed cheerfully

away. He had, by that time, realised an easy competence—enough to

secure the purchase of a little estate adjoining Highbury, which he

had always longed for—enough to marry a woman as portionless even

as Miss Taylor, and to live according to the wishes of his own

friendly and social disposition.

It was now some time since Miss Taylor had begun to influence

his schemes; but as it was not the tyrannic influence of youth on

youth, it had not shaken his determination of never settling till

he could purchase Randalls, and the sale of Randalls was long

looked forward to; but he had gone steadily on, with these objects

in view, till they were accomplished. He had made his fortune,

bought his house, and obtained his wife; and was beginning a new

period of existence, with every probability of greater happiness

than in any yet passed through. He had never been an unhappy man;

his own temper had secured him from that, even in his first

marriage; but his second must shew him how delightful a

well-judging and truly amiable woman could be, and must give him

the pleasantest proof of its being a great deal better to choose

than to be chosen, to excite gratitude than to feel it.

He had only himself to please in his choice: his fortune was his

own; for as to Frank, it was more than being tacitly brought up as

his uncle's heir, it had become so avowed an adoption as to have

him assume the name of Churchill on coming of age. It was most

unlikely, therefore, that he should ever want his father's

assistance. His father had no apprehension of it. The aunt was a

capricious woman, and governed her husband entirely; but it was not

in Mr. Weston's nature to imagine that any caprice could be strong

enough to affect one so dear, and, as he believed, so deservedly

dear. He saw his son every year in London, and was proud of him;

and his fond report of him as a very fine young man had made

Highbury feel a sort of pride in him too. He was looked on as

sufficiently belonging to the place to make his merits and

prospects a kind of common concern.

Mr. Frank Churchill was one of the boasts of Highbury, and a

lively curiosity to see him prevailed, though the compliment was so

little returned that he had never been there in his life. His

coming to visit his father had been often talked of but never

achieved.

Now, upon his father's marriage, it was very generally proposed,

as a most proper attention, that the visit should take place. There

was not a dissentient voice on the subject, either when Mrs. Perry

drank tea with Mrs. and Miss Bates, or when Mrs. and Miss Bates

returned the visit. Now was the time for Mr. Frank Churchill to

come among them; and the hope strengthened when it was understood

that he had written to his new mother on the occasion. For a few

days, every morning visit in Highbury included some mention of the

handsome letter Mrs. Weston had received. "I suppose you have heard

of the handsome letter Mr. Frank Churchill has written to Mrs.

Weston? I understand it was a very handsome letter, indeed. Mr.

Woodhouse told me of it. Mr. Woodhouse saw the letter, and he says

he never saw such a handsome letter in his life."

It was, indeed, a highly prized letter. Mrs. Weston had, of

course, formed a very favourable idea of the young man; and such a

pleasing attention was an irresistible proof of his great good

sense, and a most welcome addition to every source and every

expression of congratulation which her marriage had already

secured. She felt herself a most fortunate woman; and she had lived

long enough to know how fortunate she might well be thought, where

the only regret was for a partial separation from friends whose

friendship for her had never cooled, and who could ill bear to part

with her.

She knew that at times she must be missed; and could not think,

without pain, of Emma's losing a single pleasure, or suffering an

hour's ennui, from the want of her companionableness: but dear Emma

was of no feeble character; she was more equal to her situation

than most girls would have been, and had sense, and energy, and

spirits that might be hoped would bear her well and happily through

its little difficulties and privations. And then there was such

comfort in the very easy distance of Randalls from Hartfield, so

convenient for even solitary female walking, and in Mr. Weston's

disposition and circumstances, which would make the approaching

season no hindrance to their spending half the evenings in the week

together.

Her situation was altogether the subject of hours of gratitude

to Mrs. Weston, and of moments only of regret; and her

satisfaction—her more than satisfaction—her cheerful enjoyment, was

so just and so apparent, that Emma, well as she knew her father,

was sometimes taken by surprize at his being still able to pity

`poor Miss Taylor,' when they left her at Randalls in the centre of

every domestic comfort, or saw her go away in the evening attended

by her pleasant husband to a carriage of her own. But never did she

go without Mr. Woodhouse's giving a gentle sigh, and saying, "Ah,

poor Miss Taylor! She would be very glad to stay."

There was no recovering Miss Taylor—nor much likelihood of

ceasing to pity her; but a few weeks brought some alleviation to

Mr. Woodhouse. The compliments of his neighbours were over; he was

no longer teased by being wished joy of so sorrowful an event; and

the wedding-cake, which had been a great distress to him, was all

eat up. His own stomach could bear nothing rich, and he could never

believe other people to be different from himself. What was

unwholesome to him he regarded as unfit for any body; and he had,

therefore, earnestly tried to dissuade them from having any

wedding-cake at all, and when that proved vain, as earnestly tried

to prevent any body's eating it. He had been at the pains of

consulting Mr. Perry, the apothecary, on the subject. Mr. Perry was

an intelligent, gentlemanlike man, whose frequent visits were one

of the comforts of Mr. Woodhouse's life; and upon being applied to,

he could not but acknowledge (though it seemed rather against the

bias of inclination) that wedding-cake might certainly disagree

with many—perhaps with most people, unless taken moderately. With

such an opinion, in confirmation of his own, Mr. Woodhouse hoped to

influence every visitor of the newly married pair; but still the

cake was eaten; and there was no rest for his benevolent nerves

till it was all gone.

There was a strange rumour in Highbury of all the little Perrys

being seen with a slice of Mrs. Weston's wedding-cake in their

hands: but Mr. Woodhouse would never believe it.