How the rest of the afternoon was spent by the guests, she could not tell, except that the sounds of music and merriment were often borne through her open windows, and came apparently from the lawns or the terrace.
Refreshed by a couple of hours' peace and solitude, she repaired, about seven o'clock to Lady Gordon's dressing-room, and found her busy with her toilette. Her own dress and appearance received due commendation both from her friend and her friend's bower woman. It being the gift of the one, and the work of the other, it was no wonder perhaps that they thought it looked well. The attendant observed:
"It was quite a pleasure to make gowns for Miss Watson, she became them so completely: the work was never thrown away on her."
Perhaps the speaker had an eye to some future situation as waiting-woman to the young Lady Osborne, for his Lordship's devotion was quite evident to the inmates of the still-room, as it was then called; and Miss Watson was honoured accordingly. Whilst she was there, Sir William came in likewise, and chatted in a way, which drew from Emma the observation that he had quite recovered his spirits; his wife did not hear the remark, and taking advantage of the occupation which at that moment engrossed her, to speak without her notice, he begged Emma not to allude to it before her again. Of course Emma was quite ready to comply, but she thought it strange that he should attach so much importance to the circumstance.
They all went to the grand reception rooms together: they were already gay with parties impatient for the continuance of their pleasures. When the dancing commenced, Emma withdrew into the conservatory, which was cool and refreshing, for the ball-room was already heated by the company and the lights. Here she walked in solitude for some time; her friends were all dancing, Lady Gordon, her brother, her husband, and Miss Carr, so there was no one to interrupt her reverie, or disturb her meditations.
But at length, by the cessation of the music, she learnt that the long country dance had finished, and soon afterwards, couples and groups sought the same refreshment as herself. She sat down in a moon-lighted corner, where amongst the flowers and shrubs, and by the soft and subdued light, her white crape gown showed like the sculptured drapery of some marble statue, and here she was still suffered to remain in peace, though the conservatory echoed to merry voices, and the light laugh and sparkling sally of wit, sounded above the trickling of the silvery fountain.
Presently, the music recalled all the dancers to the ball-room, and she was again in solitude, but not now for long: a heavy step approached, and just as she was rising from her seat, Lord Osborne joined her.
"Now do sit down again," said he, "but how completely you have hidden yourself; I began to despair of finding you—ain't you going to dance?"
She told him her reason for declining it, at which he expressed concern, but immediately added:—
"However, perhaps on the whole, it is as well, for I wanted particularly to talk to you, without being overheard: can you listen to me now?"