Ch37:1 (Frank) Ch38:3 (2Mrs Elton,1Miss Bates) Ch39:2 (Frank,Mr Woodhouse) Ch40:1 (Emma) Ch41:0 Ch42:2 (Jane, Frank) Ch43:1 (Mrs Elton)

Chapter 37: Though Mr Weston has his doubts, Mrs Churchill's very extraordinary constitution does not seem to have withstood the journey well at all. I am inclined to believe Frank Churchill when "he could not doubt, when he looked back, that she was in a weaker state of health than she had been half a year ago.", at least, it seems more believable than his polite claim that he "wished to stay longer at Hartfield" as he hurrys off, not to be seen again until the evening of the ball.

Chapter 38: Mrs Elton's "What a pleasure it is to send one's carriage for a friend.! - I understand you were so kind as to offer, but it was quite unnecessary. You may be very sure I shall always take care of them." would be more believable if she had remembered to call on the Bates, as the Westons had done on their way to the ball. Miss Bates is not someone I expected to catch lying, but her polite half-truth to Frank Churchill "No rain at all. Nothing to signify." is belied by her concern for Jane "My dear Jane, are you sure you did not wet you feet?" There might be only a drop or two of rain at the moment, but it is really quite damp and cold to be waiting around for carriages.("though May a fire in the evening was still very pleasant")
Mrs Elton is determined to be complimented on her dress (Jane Fairfax has apparently reminded her aunt "that would be rude" before they arrived, and although a couple of compliments to Emma and Jane will slip out, Mrs Elton has to wait until supper time for hers - compliments on the beauty of her clothing, not her person.) She has spoken too much about dress already for us to believe that "Nobody can think less of dress in general as I do", although her present situation is one where even a person normally indifferent as to appearance would be obliged to think a little about dress. As a bride, I guess she must have quite recently received her pin-money for the year. I hope Mr Weston has not lead her to believe that she will need it all for ball gowns, to compliment him.
I am with Jeffery on Emma looking at Mr Knightley - she is totally having a perv, and "Whenever she caught his eye, she forced him to smile" even though he had to look at Frank Churchill showing off his fine dancing. This night brings a real resolution to the conflict that Emma Knightley had facilitated reconciliation of at Christmas. "'confess, Emma, that you did want him to marry Harriet' 'I did ... and they cannot forgive me'". Not only has Emma owned up to the truth, Mr Knightley has overcome some prejudice of his own, finding Harriet "has some first rate qualities ... more conversible than I expected." And instead of shaking hands, he offers to dance with Emma or, really, accepts Emma's offer. (I wonder how he become a proficient dancer. Had he been practicing with William Larkins?)

Chapter 39: Frank Churchill "could not allow himself the pleasure of stopping at Hartfield, as he was to be at home by the middle of the day." Fair enough, but why then, when he knows he has to stop in at the Bates on an errand before he goes, does he decide "to walk forward, and leave his horses to meet him by another road, a mile or two beyond Highbury.", as if he had all day. And if he did have all day, wouldn't it have been more logical to walk out himself on the road that went a mile or two beyond Highbury, and meet his horses on the Richmond road? (I am presuming the Richmond road joins up with the one his horses were on, and that it is the only road from Highbury that leads to Richmond - but if it doesn't, the story gets even stranger.)
Emma is right. A linguist, a grammarian, a mathematician could not have witnessed their appearance together, and heard their history of it, without making discoveries.
Frank's amusement and delight at Harriet's terror is not very lover-like, but that and his indignation at Miss Bickerton's folly seem quite sincere. Emma wisely decides against a lie of omission to her father - the news travels faster than Harriet would be able to. It provokes Mr Woodhouse to lie about the health of Emma and Harriet, and it provides Henry and John with a story to set right (if repeating every detail in the same order as the original could set it right.)

Chapter 40: Harriet's description of Mrs Elton as "very charming, I daresay, and all that, but I think her very ill tempered and disagreeable" is contradictory, although not intended to deceive - there seems to be a battle going on between her sense of propriety and her feelings, her understanding of what is owed to the wife of the vicar losing ground to her honest emotions as Harriet recalls "her look the other night!"
I shouldn't laugh at Mr Elton's emo scheme of cutting himself to get Emma's attention and court plaister, only to be supplied by Harriet. Emma admits she was lying about the court plaister, and I feel Mr Elton has been just as dishonest, although I can't count cutting as a lie.
When Harriet announces her intention of never marrying, Emma decides that "Plain dealing was always best." but Emma's plain dealing won't involve any "open and frequent discussion of hopes and chances" and "She had previously determined how far she would proceed, on any application of the sort; and it would be safer for both, to have the judicious law of her own brain laid down with speed". So she has convinced herself she is dealing plainly and not deliberately going back on the promise she made herself against interfering, when she finds herself so "very decided in thinking such an attachment no bad thing for her friend." In particular, her comfortable reflection "Its tendency would be to raise and refine her mind - and it must be saving her from the danger of degradation." shows we have the same old story all over again. Yes, she is still doing all she can to prevent Harriet falling in love with Mr Martin, but this time Emma will name no names.

Chapter 41: While I feel for Mr Knightley, when Franks "Disingenuousness and double-dealing seemed to meet him at every turn", the only lie I can actually catch Frank in is the "I must have dreamt it" about Mr Perry's carriage - and I would count as 'uttered' any word whose letters could be made up from the letters he selected, and regard them as being 'addressed' to whomever he particularly invited to solve them. But 'blunder' and 'Dixon' (and 'pardon', according to Austen family tradition) are not intended to deceive Jane Fairfax.
Emma decided against interference in the last chapter, and Mr Knightley decides on interference here -with almost as many caveats and hesitations.
Emma's decision that she would "not stir a step, nor drop a hint"(39), falls apart here: Poor Mr Knightley is not to know that her staggering confidence and ability to "answer for the gentleman's indifference" is because of the love affair that has started between Frank Churchill and Harriet.

Chapter 42: I find Jane Fairfax's behaviour suspicious, and am not convinced by Emma's explanations of it. Although a half hour in that heat is enough to tire Mrs Elton out, almost as soon as they have found seats in the shade and just after Mrs Weston "came out, in her solicitude after her son-in-law, to inquire if he were come", Jane gets up and "with a decision of action unusual to her, proposed a removal.'Should not they walk? - Would not Mr Knightley show them the gardens - all the gardens? - She wished to see the whole extent.'" If she had wanted to shake off Mrs Elton, she might merely have spoken to anybody else about anything else, and there is no indication in the text that Mrs Elton left Jane's side or changed her subject. Instead, the narrator deserts Jane Fairfax, referring to the rest of the party collectively. "They insensibly followed one another" more conscious of the "delicious shade of a broad short avenue of limes, which stretch[ed] beyond the garden at an equal distance from the river" than the resolution that led them thither, or what Jane hopes to see from vantage point they have secured. Thanks to Emma's earlier ruminations, we know at least one object that cannot be seen from the strawberry patch - "a stream, of which the Abbey, with all the old neglect of prospect, had scarcely a sight". And when we arrive at the "low stone wall with high pillars". The narrator is kind enough to tell us the view: "a bank of considerable abruptness and grandeur, well clothed with wood;- and at the bottom of this bank, favourably placed and sheltered, rose the Abbey-Mill Farm, with meadows in front, and the river making a close and handsome curve around it."
Of low walls and high pillars in ancient ruins I found this in an 1811 Travel, describing the ruins of a Christian cathedral at Smyrna, and its associated buildings and keep, including one 'in which the council of Smyrna was held'. The author notes of 'the old aqueduct, which is now ruined,' and 'is undoubtedly very ancient' that 'There are some hills to the east of the castle hill; and about a league to the east of it there is a narrow vale between the hills, where there is water, which probably was brought from that vale, round the hills, to the city. The first signs of the aqueduct are about a mile to the east of the valley, in which the Meles runs; and to the east of the castle there is a wall, which runs along the height of the hill, higher or lower, according as the ground lies; this wall goes near the vale in which the river Meles runs; the aqueduct was then carried along the side of the hill, and crossed the valley, where the high arches are all destroyed, except some part of the wall on the side of the hills, and some remains of the arch over the river; it was then, probably, carried along the side of the hill to cisternes under the castle; the side of the castle being higher than the aqueduct could possibly be raised. In this manner it seems to have supplied all the parts about the castle, and probably the lower town likewise: the wall is not built with arches; for there is only one arch across the the road that goes to the forth, and three or four arches near it, where I discovered the channel of the aqueduct in the wall, which was made of large square stones, one stone being let into the other, and a round channel is worked though them; what is very particular, this pipe is laid in the wall, a very little above the ground.'

One of the reasons for the "old neglect of prospect" at Donwell might have been a gravity-fed water system. A low wall running along the highest contour of the abbey grounds, and a couple of tall pillars might be what remains when all others traces of the aqueduct that used to be there are swept away by floods and time. In that case, if one was to stand so the two pillars and the wall were aligned, one might catch a glimpse of the glen on the opposite side of the river (of which the abrupt bank formed a part) which housed the spring that used to feed the Abbey. And if one was considering what kind of timber could be most profitably planted in a steep, damp glen, I think coppice Elms would be a good choice. They might not fetch the price of oak, or be as popular as ash for turning, but Elm was useful for making timber water pipes, as it does not rot, and (unlike horses) it does not mind getting it's feet damp either. As long as there was a way to access the timber, Elm would be a good choice. And of course, I think it would be easy to access that glen by road - the Richmond Road appears to run right by one side of it, and it might just be possible to catch a glimpse of it from the highest point of the Abbey gardens.

We know from earlier adventures that the Richmond road "About half a mile beyond Highbury, making a sudden turn, and deeply shaded by elms on each side, it became for a considerable stretch very retired;(39) and in that stretch, a fit girl could have ran "up a steep bank, cleared a slight [enclosure boundary?] hedge at the top, and made the best of her way by a short cut back to Highbury"(39). We also know from Harriet via Robert Martin that there is a route (that is not Donwell Lane that leads to the Abbey,nor the Donwell road that leads to Donwell) that would take one from the Abbey-Mill farm to Highbury "round by Randalls"(4) This road does not go past Hartfield (else Emma would not have missed the Westons when she took it from Abbey Mill farm to Randalls in ch23) as the Richmond road does. (And if you tell me the Richmond road does not pass directly by Hartfield, you must explain to me how Frank Churchill was able to lug Harriet undetected past Mrs Goddards school, Mr Perry's, past the Scylla and Charybdis of Mrs Coles and Miss Bates as well, to get her to Hartfield, and why getting her to Hartfield was so essential, when his time was so scarce and her own home was nearer? And it will do your case no good to merely cite Peggy Gay's map of Highbury, or Dierdre Le Faye's description of Highbury in "Jane Austen: the World of her Novels", because neither of these offer a rational answer to the question, or if they do you will have to explain to me how, because I can't see it for myself.)

Of course, before you can accept my schema, I need to explain why Jane Fairfax would want to be surveilling the Richmond road or the Randalls way. After lunch she manages to get her friends heading out to "the old Abbey fish-ponds; perhaps get as far as the clover". Emma observes her return to the Abbey while looking out on "the entrance and the ground plot of the house" while Jane Fairfax was "coming quickly in from the garden." - the same gardens that "stretch down to the meadows washed by a stream" that one would assume was the place where all ancient water-works, the stew ponds, the old mill, the irrigated pastures, were to be found. I think Jane's plan then, was to find a way to meet with Frank undetected before he was come to the Abbey, to have a few well-chosen words with him, perhaps lay down an ultimatum, and then leave for home before he arrived at the Abbey, with nobody to know of their rencountre but themselves. If I am guessing rightly, she will follow Miss Bickerton's path in reverse, detouring off the path to Langham where it cut through the home meadows(12), over the bridge by the mill stream and up the bank through Mr Knightley's coppice wood, onto the Richmond road. If Jane intended simply to avoid Frank Churchill at this point, she had plenty of time to escape and no need to wait for him to show up before she ran away. I am not sure if she knew Frank Churchill was coming to the party at Donwell when she accepted her invitation (if the invitations were given in the order they are described, they were extended first to the Eltons, then the Bates, then the Woodhouses and Harriet, then the Westons, and then, Frank Churchill.) but even if she had known then the lurking horror that was to upbraid her, I think this is something she would have had to say something about sometime. Of course, nobody is to know of the private intelligence between herself and Frank Churchill, and other people must be given other explanations. Once she delivered her message, I think she planned to take the Langham path again - as a shortcut to Highbury that could keep her away from roads which might be traveled by supplicants on horseback offering dubious compromises for her resolutions.

Whatever the real case may be, Jane is clearly lying when she explains her mission to Emma as: "My aunt is not aware how late it is, nor how long we have been absent - but I am sure we shall be wanted, and I am determined to go directly". This psychic solicitude for her grandmother's needs fails her when Emma kindly suggests "Let me order the carriage. It can be around in five minutes." - staying another five minutes in Donwell is a greater evil to Jane than keeping her grandmother wanting another five minutes in Highbury. Her reasons for opposing the 'safety' of a carriage are specious, as Emma points out "that can be no reason for you being exposed to danger now.", but Jane's great agitation, and her candid(?) confession, "we all know at times what it is to be wearied in spirits. Mine, I confess are exhausted." and her offer of conspiracy "let me have my own way, and only say I am gone when it is necessary." are an irresistible mixture that Emma swallows whole, assuming the horror Jane wants to escape from is her aunt, without wondering what aspect of her Aunt's behaviour brought Jane to such sudden crisis. If Jane was attempting to escape Mrs Elton's offer or her aunt's company, her refreshingly brisk walks around the grounds seem to have left both of them behind already, without creating any "general distress and disturbance on Miss Fairfax's disappearance." that might provoke Mrs Elton and Miss Bates to ensure that such a thing does not happen another time.

Frank makes no secret of the fact that he has met with Jane on his way to Donwell - or that he is "out of humour, neither prosperous or indulged, "thwarted in every thing material. I do not consider myself at all a fortunate person.". He regrets that he came, he will return to Richmond, he will leave England, he will travel to Swisserland to expose himself.
(in July of 1814, Percy Bysshe Shelley infamously left England, and his pregnant wife, for Switzerland, with two sixteen year old daughters of an anarchist in tow, and wrote poetry and a travel as a consequence. These were not published until after Emma, but some couplets from the poems might have found their way into political or literary journals earlier. In August 1814 there was also published the fifth edition of the very popular 1806 book of poems, addressing the French annexation of Switzerland,The Wanderer of Switzerland by James Montgomery, along with the third edition of his 1809 poetical call for the abolition of the slave trade, The West Indies, and the third edition of his 1812 poem The World Before the Flood, so maybe it is Montgomery rather than Shelley that Frank thinks of emulating.)
In any case, Frank exposes himself as a liar by his statements about his Aunt's health. When he arrives he explains he is late because "He had been detained by a temporary increase of illness in her, a nervous seizure, which had lasted some hours" and "As soon as I am cooler I shall go back again. I could very ill be spared, but such a point was made of my coming!". Emma cannot dissuade him, with her invitation to Box Hill, but when all the rest of the party are gathered and "a short final arrangement for the next day's scheme" makes it clear who the Box Hill party will consist of, and "Frank Churchill's little inclination to exclude himself increased so much, that his last words to Emma were, 'Well; - if you wish me to stay, and join the party, I will.'"
Poor Mrs Churchill, to have such a feckless comforter in such a crisis! It reminds me of a similarly questionable mercy dash in Brideshead Revisited, the questions there being 'Why exactly is your presence so necessary? You have no medical knowledge. You are not in holy orders. Do you hope for a legacy?'
Frank Churchill decides he can be spared well enough to decide that "nothing less than a summons from Richmond was to take him back before the following evening."

Chapter 43: Mrs Elton does not seem very credible when she tells of "an acrostic once sent to me upon my own name, which I was not at all pleased with."
No matter how poorly executed, a conundrum or acrostic on ones own name can hardly fail to please. Like everything Frank says in this chapter, the wit is plain to the person who is being addressed (although Frank's case does not illustrate this charm very well. His object really is displeased.)