Miss Bates put up a hand, like a schoolgirl asking permission to speak.
“Yes, ma’am?” Emma said.
“I do have something I wish to discuss—the guest list for the wedding breakfast.” She looked apologetic. “I realize it’s very soon after that poor girl’s death, but Mr. Woodhouse would like the matter settled. He’s hoping the ceremony can be held next month, which will give Jane and Frank plenty of time to travel from Yorkshire.”
Emma was doing her best to ignore the upcoming blessed event, as well.
Fortunately, she was spared an immediate response when Simon wheeled in the teacart. The next few minutes were taken up with dispensing cups and filling plates.
After consuming a small meringue, Miss Bates let out a happy sigh. “These are so delicious, Mrs. Knightley. I do hope we can serve them at the wedding breakfast.”
“You can have whatever you wish, ma’am. With the exception of cake, of course.”
Miss Bates looked crestfallen. “Indeed, no. Mr. Woodhouse would be quite shocked to serve cake at his own wedding.”
Emma smiled. “I’m jesting, ma’am. There will certainly be cake. As for the guest list, you can invite whomever you want. It’s your wedding, after all.”
Miss Bates gave her the sweetest smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Knightley. Sometimes I can hardly believe it. I’m going to be married!”
The rest of us can hardly believe it, either.
Isabella glanced at Emma, clearly trying to suppress a smile, before addressing Miss Bates. “What are your thoughts on the guest list?”
“Since the breakfast is to be held at Hartfield, the numbers will not be large,” she replied. “Family, of course. And then just our special friends—the Coles, the Gilberts, Mrs. Goddard and Miss Nash.”
Please, not the Coxes.
“And I rather thought we should invite Squire Plumtree and his son,” Miss Bates finished.
“I didn’t realize you were friendly with the Plumtrees,” said Emma.
Miss Bates set down her teacup. “My mother was very friendly with Squire Plumtree’s mother. The entire Plumtree family would sometimes come to Highbury for Sunday services and then stay for lunch at the vicarage.” A wistful expression crossed her features. “Those were such pleasant times, and Mrs. Plumtree was such a kind lady. But it was a long time ago, before …”
Before the Reverend Bates died, leaving his wife and daughter on the verge of destitution.
“What made you think to invite the Plumtrees now?” Emma tactfully asked.
Miss Bates brightened. “I hadn’t really thought of it until I saw Mr. Guy Plumtree at the party at Donwell Abbey. He’s such a lovely young man, don’t you think? I just ran into him in the village before I met Mrs. Weston. He was with Mr. Barlowe. They were obviously going off somewhere, but Guy stopped to pay his regards. Such excellent manners.”
Emma recalled the curate’s odd behavior. “Did they mention where they were going?”
Miss Bates pressed a finger to her chin. “I forgot to ask. But Guy inquired about the wedding preparations and I became distracted—which is so like me, of course. He seemed genuinely interested in our plans, so I thought it only right if we invited him and his father. For old times’ sake, you know.”
“It would certainly be a kindness,” put in Mrs. Weston. “The Plumtrees have not had an easy time of it this past year.”
“Why is that?” Emma asked.
“The squire’s wife died about nine months ago. While she was always frail in health, her death was unexpected,” Mrs. Weston explained. “Squire Plumtree was in London at the time.”
Emma grimaced. “How sad. I didn’t realize.”
“I’m sure it was a monstrous blow to poor Guy,” said Miss Bates. “He and his mother were very close, what with Squire Plumtree in London so much. There was great worry over Guy’s health, too, though he grew out of his childhood illnesses. But Mrs. Plumtree still fretted over him.”
“I understand that Guy Plumtree was not sent away to school,” said Emma.
“Indeed, no. Mrs. Plumtree couldn’t bear the thought of it.”
“According to my husband,” said Mrs. Weston, “Squire Plumtree preferred Guy to remain at home as well. He wanted his wife to have the company. I think he also worried that Guy had received such a sheltered upbringing that he might fare poorly at university. The squire was afraid he would succumb to bad influences.”
