Emma: The Wild and Wanton Edition (5 page)

Harriet certainly was not clever, but she had a sweet, docile, grateful disposition, was totally free from conceit, and only desiring to be guided by any one she looked up to. Her early attachment to herself was very amiable; and her inclination for good company, and power of appreciating what was elegant and clever, shewed that there was no want of taste, though strength of understanding must not be expected. Altogether she was quite convinced of Harriet Smith’s being exactly the young friend she wanted — exactly the something which her home required. Such a friend as Mrs. Weston was out of the question. Two such could never be granted. Two such she did not want. It was quite a different sort of thing, a sentiment distinct and independent. Mrs. Weston was the object of a regard which had its basis in gratitude and esteem. Harriet would be loved as one to whom she could be useful. For Mrs. Weston there was nothing to be done; for Harriet every thing.

Her first attempts at usefulness were in an endeavour to find out who were the parents, but Harriet could not tell. She was ready to tell every thing in her power, but on this subject questions were vain. Emma was obliged to fancy what she liked — but she could never believe that in the same situation
she
should not have discovered the truth. Harriet had no penetration. She had been satisfied to hear and believe just what Mrs. Goddard chose to tell her; and looked no farther.

Mrs. Goddard, and the teachers, and the girls and the affairs of the school in general, formed naturally a great part of the conversation — and but for her acquaintance with the Martins of Abbey-Mill Farm, it must have been the whole. But the Martins occupied her thoughts a good deal; she had spent two very happy months with them, and now loved to talk of the pleasures of her visit, and describe the many comforts and wonders of the place. Emma encouraged her talkativeness — amused by such a picture of another set of beings, and enjoying the youthful simplicity which could speak with so much exultation of Mrs. Martin’s having “
two
parlours, two very good parlours, indeed; one of them quite as large as Mrs. Goddard’s drawing-room; and of her having an upper maid who had lived five-and-twenty years with her; and of their having eight cows, two of them Alderneys, and one a little Welch cow, a very pretty little Welch cow indeed; and of Mrs. Martin’s saying as she was so fond of it, it should be called
her
cow; and of their having a very handsome summer-house in their garden, where some day next year they were all to drink tea: a very handsome summer-house, large enough to hold a dozen people.”

For some time she was amused, without thinking beyond the immediate cause; but as she came to understand the family better, other feelings arose. She had taken up a wrong idea, fancying it was a mother and daughter, a son and son’s wife, who all lived together; but when it appeared that the Mr. Martin, who bore a part in the narrative, and was always mentioned with approbation for his great good-nature in doing something or other, was a single man; that there was no young Mrs. Martin, no wife in the case; she did suspect danger to her poor little friend from all this hospitality and kindness, and that, if she were not taken care of, she might be required to sink herself forever.

With this inspiriting notion, her questions increased in number and meaning; and she particularly led Harriet to talk more of Mr. Martin, and there was evidently no dislike to it. Harriet was very ready to speak of the share he had had in their moonlight walks and merry evening games; and dwelt a good deal upon his being so very good-humoured and obliging. He had gone three miles round one day in order to bring her some walnuts, because she had said how fond she was of them, and in every thing else he was so very obliging. He had his shepherd’s son into the parlour one night on purpose to sing to her. She was very fond of singing. He could sing a little himself. She believed he was very clever, and understood every thing. He had a very fine flock, and, while she was with them, he had been bid more for his wool than any body in the country. She believed every body spoke well of him. His mother and sisters were very fond of him. Mrs. Martin had told her one day (and there was a blush as she said it,) that it was impossible for any body to be a better son, and therefore she was sure, whenever he married, he would make a good husband. Not that she
wanted
him to marry. She was in no hurry at all.

“Well done, Mrs. Martin!” thought Emma. “You know what you are about.”

Aloud, Emma said, “You have spoken quite fondly of Mr. Martin.” She stopped Harriet with a hand to her shoulder. These “moonlight walks” were weighing heavily on Emma’s mind. “Tell me the truth. Did any thing …
happen
while you were visiting the Martins this summer?” Emma needed to know for sure. If she were to ensure Harriet’s happiness, she needed to know Harriet was still available for a desirable match instead of a hasty marriage to a farmer.

Harriet blushed prettily and gazed down the lane in both directions before leaning in toward Emma and whispering, “I do not think it prudent to speak of it.”

Emma felt a sense of foreboding. “Do not be silly, my dear girl. We are friends, are we not?” She cemented the statement by drawing Harriet’s arm through the crook of her own and leading her to continue their walk, hoping that the exercise would mobilize Harriet’s tongue as well as her thoughts.

Harriet bobbed her head vigorously, her curls bouncing in agreement. “Oh, Miss Woodhouse! Of course we are friends! The dearest of friends!” She glanced around again to make sure no one was within hearing distance. “It is just that — I am sure it means nothing.” The blush to Harriet’s cheeks said otherwise. Emma squeezed Harriet’s arm encouragingly.

“Oh, very well,” Harriet said in a rush, her blush gaining deeper colour. “I spoke of our walks before.” Emma nodded her head. “Well, all through the summer, I could not help feeling that he kept drawing me closer and closer to his body as we walked.”

Emma could not help but gasp at the mention of “body.” It was not a word one said. Harriet was once again proving herself too eager to reveal every thing. But Emma must hear this. It would not do to set her cap for Harriet in Mr. Elton’s direction if she was ruined completely.

Harriet had started at Emma’s gasp. “Go on, dear,” Emma said encouragingly.

Harriet hesitated momentarily, but then continued. “It was actually quite wonderful,” she said wistfully. “I could feel the heat of him. It was all I could do not to bury my nose in his coat to catch a closer whiff of that wonderful smell he carried with him wherever he went.”

Emma wrinkled her nose at that. She could only imagine the smell a sheep farmer “carried with him wherever he went.” It did not sound romantic to her in the slightest.

“He would draw my arm through his, as you are doing now,” Harriet continued. “And then as we walked, he would draw me closer,” Harriet sidled closer to Emma to illustrate, “and closer.” Harriet sighed happily. “It was truly quite wonderful.”

It was the third time Harriet has said “wonderful” in as many minutes. Emma made a mental note to help expand her vocabulary. Just when she was determining that every thing was quite well, that Harriet was not ruined, the narrative continued.

“And then that night he sang to me — ” Harriet stopped talking.

Emma’s heart stopped along with Harriet’s mouth. They walked several more steps before Emma could take it no more. “Yes?” she prompted abruptly, causing Harriet to jump mid-stride.

“Oh!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “It was really nothing, I suppose.” With those words she looked into Emma’s eyes, and Emma could read wistfulness in her gaze. It was quite obvious to anyone who was willing to look that Harriet wished that whatever it is that had transpired between herself and Mr. Martin was any thing but “nothing.”

“Do go on,” Emma said anxiously.

“Well — he
kissed
me.” She said the word on a hushed whisper.

Emma drew back sharply. A kiss. Well, that indeed was nothing. Granted, it was nothing Emma herself would allow any gentleman, but Harriet was not to be held to the same standard Emma held herself. At least before Emma had completely reformed Harriet.

Harriet sighed again. “Oh, it was quite —

“Wonderful?” Emma supplied in a deadpan voice.

A girlish giggle erupted from Harriet. “Yes. Quite.” And then she started walking faster, pulling Emma along with her. “He moved across the parlour toward me. I could hardly breathe!” she said, placing a gloved hand across her abdomen. “His body moved with such a fluid grace. It was really quite remarkable to see a man who is used to using his body for hard labour move so gracefully. He stopped before me, and grasped my hand to give it a kiss goodnight — a nightly event for us — but then he stared at the back of my hand over-long. ‘Mr. Martin,’ I said breathlessly. And then he met my eyes. And, oh, Miss Woodhouse, the look in his eyes. I will never forget it. It was as though liquid fire was rolling in their depths. He was
burning
. If one can make sense of such a thing.” She paused to laugh self consciously. “But it made me burn as well. And then I watched as ever so slowly and with great care he placed my hand over his heart. Then he smiled at me, and it was almost the moment his lips touched mine before I realised what he was about. His lips — they were soft
and
firm. When I gasped in shock, he placed his
tongue
in my mouth. His tongue!”

Emma could not prevent a grimace. That sounded most unfortunate. But Harriet was not done. “He brushed his tongue against mine in the most tantalizing manner. It left me positively breathless. And then his hands moved down my back and paused just for a moment above my — ” She broke off with a blush. “Well, they did not pause for long in any matter. The tips of his fingers brushed against the swell of my —
bottom
,” her blush deepened, “and then he palmed me fully with both hands and pulled me tight in against his hips. He was
aroused
, Miss Woodhouse.” Harriet began walking even faster, dragging a speechless Emma along with her. “It was not difficult to tell, though I had only heard of such a thing before. He was so large and so hot and so warm that I knew in an instant what I was feeling could be nothing else. He rotated his hips against me, and his arousal drew a circle against my stomach. I pulled back with a gasp, and he apologized quickly and made to move away, but, oh, Miss Woodhouse, sinner that I am, I pulled him back and kissed him with more passion than I had up to that point. The feel of his body against mine drove me positively mad! My belly ached, and he began to make these wonderful, masculine noises as he kissed me that only made me ache even more. His hands left my bottom, and I felt a breeze on my ankle. He had my skirt in his fists and pulled it up in the span of a heartbeat, bunching it in one large hand, which he rested in the small of my back. Then his other hand drifted up my leg and slid into my drawers.”

Emma’s gasp echoed down the lane, but when Harriet looked at her with a guilty expression, Emma breathlessly gestured for her to continue.

“He touched me,” she said in a whisper. “So softly, I thought I would die of it. He moved his fingers back and forth, and the friction! Oh, it wound something tight within me. I fear I became quite loud,” she said with a sorrow-filled sigh “for just when I felt as though something incredible were about to happen at the place his fingers caressed, we heard footsteps on the stairs. In the next second, his lips and hands were gone. My skirt was dropped to the floor, and I was left panting like an utter baffoon in the midst of the parlour. I made some noise of protest, but he only looked at me with this —
chagrined
expression. His sisters entered the room in the next moment, and then he hustled off to bed leaving me feeling cold and utterly bereft without him.”

Emma realised with a start that she had not breathed in several footsteps. “Oh my,” she said softly. That did not sound …
bad
at all. In fact, Emma was near to panting herself. Her own stomach ached, and there was the same curious swollen ache between her legs that being close to Mr. Knightley seemed to inspire of late. Emma was horrified to realise that she might be the tiniest bit jealous that Harriet has experienced such a thing.

It drew Emma up short. “Nothing, indeed,” she said over-loud. She felt Harriet jolt at her side. “Yes, dear, I am sorry to say, many a man will trifle with a woman that way.” She smiled gently at Harriet to dull her sharp words. “You were quite right to be hesitant to speak of it. We can forget it directly together.”

Harriet nodded her head, less aggressively than earlier, but it was a nod just the same.

They were quiet for several more steps before Emma felt it necessary to re-direct their conversation. “And what did Mrs. Goddard think of the Martins?” Perhaps Emma could find an ally in helping Harriet forget her farmer in the wise woman.

“Oh, yes, well. Mrs. Martin actually visited Mrs. Goddard.” She nodded distractedly. “And when she had come away, Mrs. Martin was so very kind as to send Mrs. Goddard a beautiful goose — the finest goose Mrs. Goddard had ever seen. Mrs. Goddard had dressed it on a Sunday, and asked all the three teachers, Miss Nash, and Miss Prince, and Miss Richardson, to sup with her.”

Mrs. Goddard would be no help. Emma would have to set Harriet aright herself. “Mr. Martin, I suppose, is not a man of information beyond the line of his own business? He does not read?”

“Oh yes! that is, no — I do not know — but I believe he has read a good deal — but not what you would think any thing of. He reads the Agricultural Reports, and some other books that lay in one of the window seats — but he reads all
them
to himself. But sometimes of an evening, before we went to cards, he would read something aloud out of the Elegant Extracts, very entertaining. And I know he has read the Vicar of Wakefield. He never read the Romance of the Forest, nor The Children of the Abbey. He had never heard of such books before I mentioned them, but he is determined to get them now as soon as ever he can.”

The next question, perhaps the most important question, was —