"Is he serious, Lady Gordon?" enquired Emma.
"It is a most uncommon event if he is so, I assure you," replied the young wife, "and, indeed, I would not take upon myself to assert such a thing of him at any time—"
"Do not believe all the scandal my lady there will say of me," returned Sir William, "but just say at once that you will walk to-morrow morning, and that you will be particularly happy if I and Mr. Howard will join you."
Emma blushed deeply, and hardly knew what to answer, but Lady Gordon saved her the trouble of replying, by exclaiming at the presumption and self-conceit of her husband, declaring that he had completely reversed the proper order of things, and that he deserved a decided negative from Emma, for having expected her to profess such extraordinary satisfaction at his company.
Emma made believe to consider the proposal entirely as a joke, but somehow, without knowing exactly how, it was settled that the proposed excursion should take place, and that Mr. Howard was to meet them at a particular spot, from whence they were to ascend the hill behind the Castle to enjoy the prospect bathed in a morning's sunshine. Lady Gordon privately gave her husband many injunctions not to interfere with the lovers, and whilst keeping near enough to take away all appearance of impropriety, to be sure and give them plenty of time for quiet intercourse. In return for her consideration, he only laughed at her, and accused her of a great inclination to intrigue, assuring her she had much better leave such affairs to take their chance.
The walk, however, took place as was planned, and was exceedingly enjoyed by all three, though Mr. Howard did not take that occasion of declaring his passion: indeed he would have had some difficulty in finding an opportunity, as Sir William did not follow Lady Gordon's suggestions of leaving them together.
Mindful of her promise, Lady Gordon sent her guest over the next morning to pay her first visit to Mrs. Tom Musgrove. It was with rather a feeling of doubt and hesitation that Emma ventured to her sister's house; anxious as she was to see her and judge for herself, and curious to observe the manners which Tom Musgrove adopted as a married man, she could not help some internal misgivings as to the result of her investigations.
She had never seen the house before, and though she had been previously warned of the fact that it had no beauty to recommend it, she was not exactly prepared for the bare, unsheltered situation, and the extreme unsightliness of the building itself. Tom had always spent too much money on his horses and their habitation, to have any to spare for beautifying his house during the days of his bachelorship and he was far too angry at the constraint put upon him in his marriage, to feel any inclination to exert himself for the reception of his bride. She had therefore no additions for her accommodation, no gay flower-garden, not even any new furniture to boast of, and her glory must consist alone in the fact of her new name, and her security from living and dying an old maid.
Most people would have thought that security dearly purchased, but if such were Margaret's thoughts, she had not as yet given utterance to them.
Emma found her lying on a sofa, and in spite of her very gay dress, and an extremely becoming cap, evidently out of spirits and cross, yet wanting to excite her sister's envy of her situation.