When I arrived, the first party from Hartfield was already there. Isabella and Mr. Woodhouse were sitting by the fire, waiting for Emma, Elton and John.

Emma’s party soon followed, and Emma greeted Mrs. Weston fondly. I have always been glad of the affection they share.

Emma took a seat, and Mr. Elton sat next to her. He was very solicitous, asking her if she was warm enough, asking if her father were comfortable, and crowning it by calling attention to some of her drawings, which hung in Mrs. Weston’s drawing-room.

"Remarkable," he said. "Such a way with line. Quite exquisite. You are fortunate to have them, Mrs.

Weston."

Mrs. Weston agreed, but Emma looked uncomfortable. I guessed that Elton’s flattery was not to her taste. Either that, or my brother’s caution had given her pause, and she was now considering whether he could be right, and whether Mr. Elton’s object could be herself.

She did not have long to think of it, however, for the subject of Frank Churchill was soon raised.

"We want only two more to be just the right number. I should like to see two more here, your pretty little friend, Harriet, and my son, and then I should say we were quite complete," said Weston. "I believe you did not hear me telling the others in the drawing-room that we are expecting Frank?" he went on, growing expansive as he addressed Emma. "I had a letter from him this morning, and he will be with us within a fortnight."

"Oh, yes, that would be perfect," said Emma with genuine enthusiasm.

She, along with the rest of Highbury, has long been wondering about Frank Churchill.

"He has been wanting to come to us, ever since September," said Weston, "but he cannot command his own time. He has those to please who must be pleased, and who (between ourselves) are sometimes to be pleased only by a good many sacrifices. But now I have no doubt of seeing him here about the second week in January."

Emma spoke of his son at length to Weston. She could not say too much to please him.

After dinner the ladies withdrew, and Mr. Woodhouse went with them. He has no interest in business or politics, and sees his attendance as a compliment to the ladies.

When they had departed, we talked of the parish and the war, our farming troubles and our hopes for the coming year. Weston was convivial, resisting any effort to break up the gentlemen by passing the port again. He liked nothing better than to have a group of friends round his table.

I saw Elton looking at the clock once or twice, but otherwise he bore his separation from the ladies well. At last, Weston could delay us no longer, and we left our seats.

"I am going to take a walk," said John, as we left the dining-room. "I need some fresh air after Weston’s good food. Do you care to join me?"

"No, thank you," I said.

Truth to tell, I wanted to see how Emma got on with Elton. The other gentlemen demurred, and John set out.

On arriving in the drawing-room, I was not surprised to see Elton making for Emma, and, with scarcely an invitation, he seated himself between her and Mrs. Weston. He began to speak of Harriet at once, saying he hoped that Emma would not risk catching a cold from her friend.

Really, he was as bad as her father, with his talk of colds! She quickly gew weary of his attentions, and I became sure of one thing: she was finally convinced that she was his object, and not Harriet. No matter how many times she tried to turn the conversation back to her friend, he would not have it. Everything he said was about her.

"So scrupulous for others," said Elton to Mrs. Weston, "and yet so careless for herself! She wanted me to nurse my cold by staying at home today, and yet will not promise to avoid the danger of catching an ulcerated sore throat herself! Is this fair, Mrs. Weston? Judge between us. Have not I some right to complain? I am sure of your kind support and aid."

Mrs. Weston looked astonished, as well she might. This was going beyond anything I had so far heard, and assumed an intimacy that plainly was not there. I wondered that Emma could endure it, though by her look she could not do so easily. I almost stepped in, but knowing her to be equal to Elton, I left her to fight the battle herself.

She turned on him a quelling look, and I did not know whether to pity them or laugh at them: Emma abusing her powers and creating a muddle where there had been none, and Elton, blinded by ambition, mistaking the matter so badly he was about to make an even bigger muddle than the one already made.

There was no time for any more of Elton’s chivalry, however, as John returned from his walk. He came in, rubbing his hands and speaking briskly, breaking like a whirlwind into the room.

"This will prove a spirited beginning of your winter engagements, sir," he said to Mr. Woodhouse heartily. "It will be something new for your coachman and horses to be making their way through a storm of snow."

I wished he could have been less dramatic in his entrance. Mr. Woodhouse was so distressed he was struck dumb, but a regular hubbub broke out from everyone else.

"Snow? I would not have thought it," said Emma.

"No, indeed," said Elton. "Who could have guessed?"

"How deep is it?" asked Weston.

"Do you think it will lie?" asked Mrs. Weston.

"I admired your resolution very much, sir, in venturing out in such weather," continued John to Mr. Woodhouse, "for of course you saw there would be snow very soon. Everybody must have seen the snow coming on. I admired your spirit; and I dare say we shall get home very well. Another hour or two’s snow can hardly make the road impassable; and we are two carriages; if one is blown over in the bleak part of the common field, there will be the other at hand. I dare say we shall be all safe at Hartfield before midnight."

To him, the snow was a matter of novelty and excitement. There are times when he reminds me of his children! To Weston, too, it was a source of satisfaction, or at least the concealment of it was.

"I knew it was snowing all along," said Weston. "I saw it as I crossed the hall, but said nothing for fear of breaking up the party. I could see that it was nothing, a mere dusting, and nothing to worry about. There will be no difficulty in anyone getting home. A pity! I wish there would be, then you could all stay the night. We would love to have you, would we not, my dear?" he said to Mrs. Weston.

She hardly knew how to look, and I was not surprised, as there are only two spare rooms at Randalls, and she had six guests.

"What is to be done, my dear, Emma? What is to be done?" said Mr. Woodhouse, over and over again.

Leaving them to their worries, I went outside to judge the situation for myself. John had exaggerated. There was very little snow, nothing but a fine covering, and it was not likely to cause any difficulties in getting home. I went beyond the sweep, and walked some way along the Highbury Road to make sure, but it was nowhere more than half an inch deep, and in many places it was hardly there at all.

I looked up. A few flakes were falling, but the sky was clearing, and I felt it would soon abate. I spoke to James, and he agreed with me that there was nothing to worry about.

I returned to the drawing-room and set everyone’s minds at ease, but Mr. Woodhouse had been so worried that he did not recover.

"Your father will not be easy; why do not you go?" I said to Emma.

"I am ready, if the others are."

"Shall I ring the bell?"

"Yes, do."

I think she was not sorry to be leaving Elton. Once back at home, she would be free of his attentions.

Between us, we managed to soothe Mr. Woodhouse until the carriage was brought round. I saw him to his carriage, and Isabella and he stepped in. I stood back, and John, forgetting that he had not come with his wife, followed her into the carriage. I was about to remonstrate with him, when the carriage pulled away.

What did it matter which carriage he took? I thought, until I remembered that Emma would now be left alone with Elton.

I was just about to suggest that I go with her, when I saw that both she and Elton had climbed into their carriage, and that it was already following the first up the drive.

I consoled myself with the thought that Elton was a gentleman. Though he had partaken freely of wine I did not fear for Emma’s safety. But as to what he might say to her….

On reflection, I felt it was perhaps as well that things should come to a head. I could not stand to see him dancing attendance on her any longer, and the sooner she made her feelings plain to him the better.

I went back inside.

"So, we have lost the rest of the party," said Mr. Weston. "You will stay awhile longer?" he asked me.

He was looking dejected at the sudden break-up of his party, and I agreed. The conversation turned once again to his son, and we spent an hour talking of Frank Churchill, Mr. Weston’s delight in being about to see him, and Mrs. Weston’s desire to meet her new stepson.

As we spoke, however, I could not help wondering what was taking place in the carriage.

"You seem tired," said Mr. Weston, noticing my abstraction at last.

"No," I said, rousing myself.

"The children have been wearing you out," said Mrs. Weston with a smile.

I let her think it. It was better than have her worrying about Emma.

I left them at last, and, thanking them for a very enjoyable evening, I returned to the Abbey. I took up a book, but it would not do.

What was Elton saying to Emma? What was she saying to him? And would I ever learn anything of it? I wondered.