Harriet's Hesitation

A mysterious unknown father is all very well, if one is a character in a novel, but there are benefits to a loving husband and in-laws who adore you. Miss Emma Woodhouse had all the advantages in life, and must therefore be forgiven a somewhat rose-coloured view of the world.

Miss Emma Woodhouse was handsome, clever and rich, had reached the age of one-and-twenty with all the benefits of a privileged gentlewoman and very little to trouble or inconvenience her, and must therefore be forgiven her unfortunate blind spots.

Miss Harriet Smith was charitably described as an orphan with a wealthy benefactor, and the kinder members of Highbury society - what there was of it - did their best not to whisper the indisputable known facts too loudly in Harriet's presence. Those facts were as follows; that Harriet's mother had claimed no family, insisting herself a widow to anyone who was impolite enough as to ask, though she never spoke of her supposed husband's fate, or of her relations by marriage, and that when she died shortly after Harriet's eighth birthday, the same benefactor who had sent her mother a monthly allowance, sent Harriet to Mrs Goddard's School for Girls, paying for her education and board, and a guinea or two as a personal allowance. One did not need to be a bluestocking to put the pieces together into the obvious conclusion.

Harriet supposed that her father might reveal himself when she came of age, or if she ever married, if he was interested in knowing her once his obligation to the upkeep of his natural child was ended. Perhaps he would not, and her twenty-first birthday would be the last she heard from him. Harriet thought that it would be nice to know who her benefactor was, but she was also practical enough not to dream that her life would suddenly become an excerpt from one of the Gothic Novels that were hastily shoved under cushions and pillows when Mrs Goddard or any of the other Mistresses did the rounds.to investigate excessive giggling.

"Be grateful for what you have!" Harriet sometimes imagined herself in conversation with her Mama, and what advice she might give her, were she still alive to do so. "No good comes of covetousness or envy!"

"A Peer could have found a way to keep you closer," That voice was Mrs Goddard, sympathetic to her plight, but sensible and practical, if Harriet had ever dared voice her opinions to the Schoolmistress. "Don't go getting ideas above yourself!"

No Duke or Earl or Prince would appear to claim Harriet as a long-lost heiress; a stolen daughter or grand-child finally found after years of searching, and whisk her away to the splendour of a London ballroom. Her father might be wealthy enough to support a natural child to a gentlewoman's education, but if he was anything higher than a country squire, she would be very surprised. Still, it was a nice fantasy to tell herself on dark nights when Harriet felt her status particularly keenly, and if it made the other girls at Mrs Goddard's - the ones who knew their families and stations - happy to believe such a fairytale, then Harriet Smith would not reject their acceptance.

After all, if Harriet's situation was not enviable, it was not pitiable, either. She did not beg on the streets, and she had an education, instead of going into service or factory work after her mother died, or the precarious situation of poor Miss Bates, a spinster who only ever received invitations to make up numbers, and was often the object of speculation whether she was truly ignorant of how she was barely tolerated by most, or simply determined to ignore the facts of her situation, as if doing so would make it less true.

Harriet would not blame her, if she did. Denial was, in many ways, better than despair.

When she visited Mr and Miss Woodhouse, accompanying Mrs Goddard, Harriet was honoured to have shaken Miss Woodhouse's hand, and to have been repeatedly invited back to Hartfield. Miss Emma Woodhouse might not be the heiress that her older sister, Isabella, was, but she was as far above Harriet as Queen Charlotte, or one of the numerous princesses, was.

That was a good comparison, Harriet decided, if an exaggerated one. Mrs Woodhouse was deceased, and her older daughter Isabella was often in London with her husband, Mr John Knightley. Donwell Abbey had no mistress as of yet, and while the third estate in the area, Randalls, had recently gained one in the former Miss Taylor, it did fall rather below the other two estates in prominence. Thus, Miss Emma Woodhouse was the highest-ranked lady in Highbury, a small country town whose inhabitants rarely left, and which could be considered almost it's own little world.

In a larger, more varied society, Harriet's origins would have been displaced by more interesting gossip within a week.

Perhaps envisioning Emma as the Queen Bee of a hive was a better metaphor, with all of Highbury Society humming and circulating around her. Yes, that was better. Miss Woodhouse was the center of Highbury, the sun they orbited around, but in the grand scheme of things, even Miss Woodhouse's influence stopped at the border of -shire.

No amount of Emma's conviction that Harriet was the daughter of someone of high standing, or her desire for some grand marriage that would make them social equals in theory if not in practice, would change reality to make it so. For all that Emma appeared to want to be friends, Harriet could not help but be aware of reality. No matter how fond of her Emma was, the most Harriet could ever be to her was a friend, or perhaps replace the new Mrs Weston as a paid companion until Emma married, as she surely must one day.

And if Harriet, as Mrs Robert Martin, could not be a friend invited to visit Miss Emma Woodhouse at Hartfield, then perhaps Miss Harriet Smith, illegitimate orphan, should not allow herself to feel secure in the grand lady's affections, either.

Elizabeth Martin, though some years older, had been a steadfast friend to Harriet when they were schoolfellows, even inviting her to stay at Abbey Mill Farm with her family, when a particularly bad storm had required Mrs Goddard to send her borders home for the holidays while repairs to the roof and some outbuildings were arranged. The Martins had treated Harriet like family, something absent from Harriet's life for the last several years. That kindness had never faded, even in the face of gentle reminders of her status from concerned members of Highbury society.

Mr Martin still sought her out in company and when their paths crossed in the village, and his sisters still welcomed her. The value of an approving and affectionate mother-in-law could not be overstated, especially for one such as Harriet.

She would be sad to lose a potential friend, but that sorrow faded in the light of all that she would gain. Harriet imagined her Mama's voice again: "Do not set yourself on fire to keep others warm, my dear."

Mind made up, Harriet sat down at her writing desk, before she could be swayed out of her decision again, and began penning a response to the letter she had recieved. The voices of others had no place here, not even that of Emma Woodhouse.

'To my dear Mr Robert Martin,

I recieved your letter of proposal, it it has made me the happiest of women. There could be only one greater happiness, and I claim it by announcing my acceptance of your suit...'

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