"I am sure I am necessarily obliged to you, Penelope, for your kind way of speaking to me; but I know very well what it is, you are all envious of my good luck, and that's the reason you will none of you believe me; but, some day, I shall pay you off, you will see."
"In the mean time, I will give you ample credit, Margaret, feeling confident you will never forget a debt of that kind; but, if you are Mrs. Tom Musgrove six months hence, I will admit that I know nothing of you—nothing of Tom—nothing of men in general, and that I am little better than an idiot."
"I do not see why you should doubt it at all," cried Elizabeth, interposing, "I am sure I believe it entirely, don't you Emma?"
"The gentleman is probably gone to London to give instructions for preparing the settlements," observed Sam, gravely, preventing, by his interposition, any necessity for Emma to answer her eldest sister's question.
Margaret assented to this proposition, and Penelope took no further trouble to vex her at that moment.
Meantime all the necessary arrangements for the girls quitting their old home were made, with all possible despatch. Margaret indeed took no interest in the proceedings, contenting herself with wandering about, and fretting for Mr. Musgrove; but the others were busy from the time Sam left them; and towards the end of a month, the time for removing to Croydon, began to be discussed. Pen still held to her resolution of not visiting her brother, she determined to return to her friend at Chichester, and marry from her house; and she announced that the marriage would take place within a few weeks of her quitting her home.
Emma was sorry at parting with her—she had got over the shock which her coarse manners had at first inflicted; and they had always agreed very well since the day at Osborne Castle. In fact, what Penelope had observed there of the kindness and attention which Emma received from that family had greatly raised her sister in importance in her mind; a girl so much noticed and liked by people who had never stooped to them before must be worth agreeing with; and as there was everything in Emma's own manners and temper to recommend her to the kindly disposed, Penelope had always avoided quarrelling with her, as she constantly did with her other sisters. Consequently, Emma could not help wishing it was Margaret who was going to Chichester, and Pen who was to share their home at Croydon.
Things, however, were really better arranged than she could have ordered them, for it would have been impossible for Penelope and Jane Watson to have continued in the same house, without the certain destruction of the peace of all around. There was no one in the neighbourhood to regret, excepting Mrs. Willis, for Emma would not allow even to herself that the separation from Mr. Howard gave her any concern; and it was a satisfaction to quit the vicinity of Osborne Castle, and the scenes where she had been so happy. The Osborne family were all gone to town without her having seen anything more of them; or the suit of the young nobleman having made any progress. She did not expect ever to see them again. Her own plan for the future was to try to procure a situation as teacher in a boarding school, or private governess; anything by which she could feel she was earning the food she eat, in preference to becoming as her brother expressed it, a burden on his family. She began now to comprehend more fully than she had done before, what an evil poverty might be, and felt a vivid sensation of regret that her uncle had left her so entirely dependent on others after giving her an education which quite unfitted her for filling the situation of humble companion to her sister-in-law.
She struggled to suppress the feeling that she had been unjustly and unkindly dealt with, but it would intrude, to her great discomfort.
But though there were few people to regret amongst her associates, there were sufficient discomforts and worries of other kinds attending their removal. The dismantling of their old home—the sale of the furniture—a portion of which was taken by the succeeding rector, the rest was to be disposed of by auction; the disputes about dilapidations; the finding situations for their servants; the vain attempts to procure a purchaser amongst their acquaintance for their old horse, even the parting with the house-dog and their two cows made Emma sorrowful. Added to all this was the incessant repining of Margaret, who was fretting herself almost into a decline, at the disappearance of Tom Musgrove, and the ill-natured letters of Robert Watson, who regularly quarrelled with everything Elizabeth did or did not do; who disputed all their proposals, and suggested nothing but impossibilities himself.