"Do as you please, Jane," said her husband, interposing, "but because you reject the turkey, I see no reason why I should be deprived of it, so I must beg Elizabeth not to mind your nonsense."
The party, after leaving the dining-room, were sitting amicably in the best parlour, Robert Watson apparently asleep in an easy-chair, and his lady holding forth to her sisters-in-law about her parties, her acquaintance, and her manner of living at Croydon, when the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel under the window, followed by the house-bell, drew their attention and aroused their curiosity; who could it be? perhaps Penelope, returned suddenly from Chichester—it was just like her to come without giving notice; perhaps Sam, but he was so unlikely to come at all—nobody could decide—but the opening door seconding Jenny's voice, revealed the mystery, and shewed Tom Musgrove!
Mr. Musgrove's share of the surprise was great—quite as great as what he intended to occasion—when instead of being shewn into the little dingy sitting-room as usual, and finding the two Miss Watsons sitting, as he expected, by the melancholy light of a pair of sixes—he was ushered into the best drawing-room, graced by the uncovered chandelier and best sofa; and encountered in a blaze of wax candles, which almost dazzled him, a group of ladies dressed for company. He really hardly knew where he was, and glanced round with excessive astonishment.
"Really, Miss Watson," cried he, whilst shaking hands with her, "I must apologise for this intrusion; I did not know you had company."
"You are exceedingly welcome," replied Elizabeth, with much more good-nature than Emma approved. "It is my brother and sister: they only arrived to-day."
"Yes," said Robert, who, on surveying Tom's appearance, so elegant and finished as it appeared to him, in point of dress, felt much mortification on remembering his own unpowdered hair, and morning coat; "yes, we have not been long in the house—not long enough, you see, to change our travelling costume: but just in time to sit down to dinner."
Emma's cheeks glowed in spite of her wishes, at this speech, and she stole a glance at the wife to see how she bore it. That lady's eyes seemed merely to speak an internal triumph as she looked at her husband, as if she meant, at the first convenient opportunity, to enforce the propriety of Robert's taking her advice in future.
"Never apologise for your dress, my good sir," cried Tom, shaking hands with him; "at least, not to me, for I shall consider it a reflection on my own vile dishabille. But the fact is, I was passing this way, being on my return from Osborne Castle, where I have been spending a few days, and I could not go so near, without just stopping to enquire how Mr. Watson goes on."
Margaret, who ever since his entrance, had been trying to attract his attention, could now be repulsed no longer. She would speak, and be spoken to; and the tone and manner in which she addressed Mr. Musgrove, together with the pains she took to secure his having a chair next her when they all sat down, showed Emma that she was by no means reduced to despair about his supposed attachment.
"It is long since we have met," said she, in a soft, whispering voice, looking up in his face with what was intended for an endearing smile.