Emma Field Book I - coming of age in the changing times of the mid-19th century

Chapter XII - Envy

The fire was snapping when Emma awoke. She'd been aware of her father moving about in the deep grey of early morning and going out to do the chores. She was relieved that she wouldn't need to rush this morning; that she could wait for the fire to warm the room. Emma could see her breath in the cozy pink light shining across the middle panel of the east window. The top panel was the lilac colour she'd asked Mrs. Henderson about. She rolled on to her side. Untwisting her nightgown, she tucked her knees to her chest and pulled the rough winter sheets up around her chin.

"Jane. Jane and that stupid dress," Emma sneered. "She'll probably even wear it to the Christmas Frolic. I don't want to stand beside her with her wearing her new dress! I'll look plainer and uglier than I normally do. Why does she have to be so extravagant?

"I know," she thought, turning over and smiling smugly to herself, "I'll stand beside someone else. I'll stand beside Rachel – she's plain too. Even more plain since she started wearing that grey dress of Hannah's. It never looked good on Hannah and it looks even worse on Rachel. If I wait until December to switch places, Mr. Brown will probably tell me I can't – or the others will wonder if Jane and I are at odds. They'll think it's unusual. The trick is to get everyone used to the unusual gradually, so they never notice the change.

"Hmm, what is the most unusual thing that could happen? Mr. Brown being kind and generous! No, I can't even begin to imagine that happening. Dr. Watson sitting by the stove in the General Store." Emma smiled again and stretched out her legs. She slid her arm under the indigo-and-white-striped pillowcase.

"Now that would be funny. If he were to suddenly start lolling away the hours in front of the stove, people would talk. But if he were to purchase some alum one day and linger a few minutes, then some sulfur another day and linger a little longer, the men would pull up a chair for him. Eventually he'd be sitting there as often and as long as Mr. Forsythe and no one would remember that Dr. Watson once rushed about like the wind, never mind that he once never set foot in the place!

"Yes, that's what I'll do. Today, I'll make certain that I stand beside Rachel. Still, I hope that Jane's mother tells her that she cannot have such a dress. Or maybe she'll stain it the first time she wears it! That would serve her right! Then she'd have to wear an old narrow-sleeved bodice with the skirt of her new dress. Funny how a stain takes the eye away from the most beautiful of creations."

Her reverie continued and she smoothed the covers on either side of her. "What is my favourite colour? Hmm. It isn't orange. There isn't much orange in my life – just bittersweet berries and Chinese lanterns in the fall. Those are rather pretty."

Emma propped herself up on one elbow to look out the window and saw a dusting of snow on the ground. She stared at the sun, which was now a yellowy-orange half circle. Closing her eyes, she flopped back onto the straw mattress. Spots danced before her eyes.

"Oh dear, I wonder if I'll go blind," she mused. "Father said that people go blind when they look at the sun for too long. The lilac is almost gone from the sky – chased away by the orange. Maybe that's why I dislike orange. Other people must dislike it too. I've never seen orange fabric, or whitewash or paint. Not even rich people like the Morgans have orange paint. But pink – wouldn't it be lovely to have a pink whitewash – or a 'pink-wash'! This whole cabin would be bathed in the warmest, softest pink all day long, not just when the sun rises and sets! I'd feel so warm and friendly and nice – even towards Jane in her new dress."

The sun was like a pale yellow saucer, a finger's width above the ridge. Emma heard the tug of air being pulled up the chimney.

"Oh, I'd better hurry." She extracted her woollen stockings from under her pillow, pulled them over her legs, tied on her boots, and stood on the cold dirt floor. She pulled off her nightdress, drew the bed clothes into place, folded the sleeping box into the settle, and slipped into her dress.