Hester · Chapter 24 (2/2)

“I am sure,” said Hester blushing, after a minute’s silence, “that if Miss Ashton would⁠—like it so very much⁠—”

“Oh, I should, of course, very much. I want to know the Redborough people. I like to know the people wherever I go. It is so dull knowing no one,” Emma said. “And then it would be so convenient, you know, for I could go with⁠—you⁠—”

To this Hester did not know what to reply; but it was well in one way that the newcomer took it all for granted and gave no trouble. Emma made no account of embarrassed looks and hesitating replies. She did not even notice them, but pursued her own way deliberately, impervious to any discouragement, which was more equivocal than a flat “No.” She had been used to “noes” very flat and uncompromising, and everything less seemed to her to mean assent. When she had disposed, as she thought, of this question, she went on to another which was of still greater importance.

“But I cannot expect Cousin Catherine to call upon me,” she said composedly. “She is too old, and she is always treated as a kind of princess, Roland says. And you are too old to take me, grandmamma. Perhaps I could go with Hester. Would that be the right thing? For they all say I must not neglect Cousin Catherine.”

Hester looked aghast upon the young woman, who contemplated them so calmly over her knitting, and talked of neglecting Catherine, and being called upon by the sovereign of society, who left even the Redborough magnates out, and called only upon those who pleased her. Emma went on quite placidly, knitting with the ends of her fingers in that phlegmatic German way, which is an offence to English knitters. The stocking went on dropping in longer and longer lengths from her hands, as if twirling upon a leisurely wheel. She had explained that they were knickerbocker stockings, for Elinor’s boys, which she was always busy with.

“She gives me so much for them, for every dozen pairs⁠—and the wool; I make a little by it, and it is much cheaper for her than the shops.”

“Your grandfather will take you⁠—some day,” said Mrs. Morgan hastily.

“Oh, that will do very well, but it ought to be soon,” Emma said. She returned to the subject after Hester had given a further account of the merrymaking of the previous night.

“Are you all great friends?” said Emma, “or are there little factions as there generally are in families? Elinor and William’s wife used always to be having tiffs, and then the rest of us had to take sides. I never would. I thought it was wisest not. I was nobody, you know, only the youngest. And when one has to stay a few months here and a few months there, without any home of one’s own, it is best to keep out of all these quarrels, don’t you think, grandmamma? Roland said there were some old things living here, some old maids that were spiteful.”

Now it is curious enough that though the Miss Vernon-Ridgways were not at all approved by their neighbours, it gave these ladies a shock to hear an outsider describe them thus.

“Never mind that,” said Mrs. Morgan, almost impatiently. “Are you going further, Hester? If you want my old man, tell him not to stay out too long, for the wind is cold today.”

“I am going to Redborough,” Hester said. “I have some things to do for mamma.”

“Oh, you must take me with you,” said Emma⁠—“just one moment till I have turned this heel. I never like to leave a heel midway. I want to see Redborough of all things. Grandmamma, you will not mind me leaving you⁠—I want to see all I can, as I don’t know how long I may stay.”

“Do you mind, Hester?” the old lady said in a little alarm, as having finished the heel, and put her knitting carefully away in a long basket made to hold the length of her needles, Emma went upstairs to get her hat. Hester laughed a little and hesitated, for though she was not moved to enthusiasm by Emma, she was young enough to like the novelty of a new companion, whoever that might be.

“I hope she will not make me take her to see Catherine. Catherine would not be very gracious to anyone whom I brought her. Dear Mrs. Morgan, I wanted to ask you⁠—Was Catherine⁠—Did Catherine⁠—”

“What, my dear?”

“Nothing⁠—I can’t tell you before anyone. It was something I heard from⁠—last night. Yes, I am quite ready, Miss Ashton,” Hester said.

“It is grand to be called Miss Ashton, but I wish you would say Emma. It makes me feel as if I were someone’s governess when you say Miss Ashton. I nearly was,” said Emma. “You know we are a large family, eight of us, and we had no money. I am sure I can’t tell how we managed to grow up. It was thanks to Elinor I believe; she was the only one who could manage papa. And now they are all provided for, but only me. Elinor and Bee made very good marriages, and Kate didn’t do so badly either, but she’s gone to India. The others were to help me between them, but that is not very nice. They are always scheming to have as little of you as they can, and to make the others have too much. I never would give in to that. I always kept to my day. I used to say ‘No, Bee, my time is up. I don’t mind where you put me (for I never made any fuss in that sort of way, it turns the servants against you), I can sleep anywhere, but you must keep your turn. Elinor shan’t be put upon if I can help it,’ and the short and the long of it was that I had as nearly as possible taken a governess’s place.”

“That would have been better surely⁠—to be independent,” Hester said.

“In some ways. To have a paid salary would be very nice⁠—but it hurts a girl’s chance. Oh, yes, it does,” said Emma, “there is no doubt of it: people say not when they want to coax you into it, but it does⁠—and as all the others have married so well, of course I was very unwilling to do anything to damage my chance.”

“What was your chance?” said Hester with a set countenance: partly she did not know, and partly from the context she divined, and meant to crush her companion with lofty indignation: but Emma was not quick enough to perceive the moral disapproval. She was not even conscious that it was possible to disapprove of such an elemental necessity.

“Oh, you know very well,” she said with a little laugh. “I have never been a flirt. I haven’t got any inclination that way. Of course in my position I would think it my duty to consider any offer. But I was very nearly driven to the governessing,” she continued calmly. “Elinor had visitors coming, and Bee was so ill-natured as to start painting and papering just as I was due there. Can you imagine anything more nasty? just to be able to say she could not take me in! I just said I must take a situation, and they were in a way. But I do really believe I should have done it had it not been for Roland. He said it would suit him very well to have me. He had just got a house of his own, you know, and I could be of use to him. So he took me, which was very kind. It is a little dull after being used to children, but I have scarcely anything to do, and he gives me a little allowance for my clothes. Don’t you think it is very kind?”

“I would much rather be a governess,” Hester said with a glow of indignant pride. This matter-of-fact description of the state of dependence, which was made without any sense of injury at all, with the composure of an individual fully capable of holding her own and looking for nothing else, had an effect upon her sensitive mind which it is impossible to describe. She shrank from the revelation as if it had been something terrible; and yet it was not terrible at all, but the most calm historic account of a state of affairs which seemed perfectly natural to everyone concerned. Emma knew that she would herself have employed any possible expedient to get rid of an unnecessary member of her household, especially such a detrimental as “the youngest”⁠—and she was not angry with Bee.

“Ah, you don’t know children,” said Emma serenely. “I have been used to them all my life, and I know what demons they are; and then it does so spoil your chances in life. Being with Roland is very nice you know, he never orders me about, and he gives me an allowance for my clothes, as I told you. But it is much duller. At Elinor’s and Bee’s, and even at William’s, there’s a little life going on. Now and then you can’t help seeing people. Even when your sisters don’t wish it, people will ask you out when they know you’re there. And I must say that for Elinor, that when she’s not worried she does take a little trouble about you, and always likes to see you look nice. To be sure with five boys and a husband in business, she is worried,” Emma added with impartiality, “most of the time. What is that big house, that red one, so near the road? Nice people ought to live there.”

“That is the Grange,” said Hester, with a sudden flush, “that is Catherine Vernon’s house.”

“Oh‑h! But then why should I lose any time? It would look better that I should go at once, the very first day. I suppose you run in whenever you please.”

Hester’s countenance flamed more than ever. “I never go⁠—except when I go with my mother. Catherine would not care to see you with me. She is very fond of your grandfather and grandmother⁠—but not so fond of us. And she is quite right, we don’t deserve it so much,” Hester said, flinging back her young head with that movement of natural pride which belonged to her. Just then, to make the situation more complicated, Edward came out from the gate, and seeing the two figures on the road, hesitated for a moment, conscious of Catherine’s eye behind him, and Hester’s keen consciousness before.

“Oh,” said Emma again, “then there are factions? I am sure I am very glad grandpapa is on Catherine’s side; for Elinor said, and then Roland told me⁠—Who is that? Oh, then, there are men there? I thought she lived alone. He looks rather nice, though I like men to be taller than that. Mind you introduce me, and walk a little faster please, before he gets away.”

Hester’s response to this was naturally the indignant one of walking more slowly, so as to give the hesitating figure at the gate full time to get away. But Edward had thought better of it. On the whole, he found it more undesirable to encounter Hester’s disdain than anything Catherine would be likely to say. And just at that hour after luncheon Catherine generally abandoned her seat in the window. It was true that he very seldom came back to lunch. He advanced accordingly a few steps from the door, and held out his hand. “I am glad to see you are none the worse of our dissipations last night,” he said.

“Introduce me,” said Emma, keeping her place close to Hester’s side, “we are all cousins together, though we don’t know each other. I wanted to go in at once to see Cousin Catherine, whom I have heard of all my life; but she will not let me. Perhaps you will mention it to Cousin Catherine. I will come as soon as I can get grandpapa to bring me. It is so much more formal than I thought. Among relations generally one runs out and in, and never thinks twice, but that does not seem to be your way here.”

“No, it is not our way here. We hold each other at arm’s length. We are not even civil if we can help it,” said Edward, with a laugh and a glance at Hester, who stood, the impersonation of unwilling politeness, holding herself back, in an attitude which said as plainly as words, that though their way was the same she did not choose to be accompanied, by him, along even that common way.

“I see,” said Emma. “I am sure I am very sorry I made you stand and talk, Hester, when you dislike it so much. Of course, among relations one understands all that. Do you live here? I remember now Roland told me there were some gentlemen-cousins, but I am quite a stranger, and I don’t know anything. Hester is going to take me to see the little town.”

“You must not say ‘little town’ to any of the Redborough people, Miss Ashton.”

“Oh, mustn’t I? At Waltham nobody minds. I should like to see the Bank where all the Vernon money comes from. The Vernon money has never done us any good I believe, but still when one is connected with money one likes to see all about it at least. Do you think, Hester, this gentleman would be so good as to see about my invitation? I don’t know if Mrs.⁠—, I forget her name, who gives the dances⁠—is your sister, Mr. Vernon.”

“Mrs. Merridew is my cousin,” said Edward.

“Oh, cousin, is it? I suppose we are all cousins. Naturally I should like an invitation: but I suppose it is because of the splits in the family, grandmamma doesn’t seem to wish to do anything about it, and Hester hesitated, you know, just as you hesitated, Mr. Vernon, before you came to speak to us. What a pity that there should be such to-does: but where there are a large number of people in a family, of course it can’t always be helped. I have always found gentlemen were more good-natured than ladies about getting one invitations. If you were to tell Mrs. Merridew I am here, even if she didn’t think it right to call as most people would, at least she might send me a ticket. I can’t have anything to do with either side, seeing I only arrived yesterday, and don’t know a word about it: but I do like to make acquaintance with a place wherever I go.”

“I will see that my cousin sends you an invitation, Miss Ashton, at least if she will do what I ask her. I have got my work waiting me. Pardon me if I go on.”

“Oh, we are going the same way. I suppose we are going the same way?” said Emma, looking at her companion.

“You walk quicker than we do, and I dare say you are in a hurry,” said Hester ungraciously. She did not respond to the look of mingled reproach and relief which he gave her. The very vicinity of Catherine Vernon’s house stiffened Hester into marble, and Edward was very anxious to go on. He stood still for one moment with his hat in his hand, then hastened on, at a rate very little like his usual mode of progression. Hester on her part followed with studious lingering, pausing to point out to her companion the view over the Common, the roofs of the Redborough houses, the White House on the opposite slope. Emma naturally conceived her own suspicions from this curious piece of pantomime. They had been walking smartly before, they walked slowly now⁠—and hers was what she thought a romantic imagination. She felt confident that these two were true lovers separated by some family squabble, and that they did not venture to be seen walking together. “I know we were going the same way,” she said, “because there are not two ways, and you can see the town before you. I can’t see why we might not have walked together. It is sinful to carry family tiffs so far,” Emma said.