A/N: An idea I've been toying with lately – I want to explore how Emma and Mr. Knightley would fight when they're on a more equal footing when it concerns who is in the right.
Chapters will be short, and may seem unrelated at first, but bear with me, because they contain essential history. Hint: the date at the top of each chapter lets you know when the events are taking place; hopefully this will prevent confusion. The events of the novel Emma are believed to have been set in 1814 or 1815. Please let me know what you think!
Learning Experiences
1783
He had told his father that he didn't need to know how to ride a horse, because he was going to be a pirate. 'Pirates only need to know how to steer a ship and swordfight,' he said, privately deciding to omit his rather unpirate-like feeling that horses were far too tall and fast to ride on anyway.
His father had laughed, but had not given in. 'Certainly, George, but you will be a gentleman pirate, and all gentlemen, even the plundering kind, should learn how to ride. Come on, now.'
And in no time at all he was sitting nervously atop Pilot, his father's newly bought huge black horse, his clammy hands clasped tightly around the reins.
His father stood next to him. 'Just follow your instincts,' he said, and then he slapped the horse's flank, setting it in motion. Panicked, George turned his head back, mouth dry, to ask for more detailed instructions. If nobody taught him, how was he ever going to learn?
Perhaps it had happened because he had gone into the lesson with the mindset that it would be terrible. Perhaps it had happened because he had no instincts to speak of. Perhaps it was just bad luck – but whatever the reason, the sudden gunshots of the hunting party in their neighbour's estate frightened the horse, which reared, causing him to fall off sideways, after desperately trying to hold on.
He had barely gotten his breath back from the fall when one of the horse's hooves landed on his leg. There was a sickening crack and he gave an involuntary cry of pain. Pirate hopeful, gentleman-in-training, whatever he was supposed to be, as the tears he could not suppress rolled down his face, he just felt like a five-year-old boy.
A silly, weak five-year-old boy who couldn't even stay on his horse for two minutes. A stupid five-year-old boy whose leg hurt so much that he couldn't help crying like a girl.
After Dr. Perry had come and gone, even though his father was apologetic, and his mother kind, his own fears did not dissipate.
'I am sorry your first lesson had to end like that,' his father had said ruefully, 'but in a couple of months, when your leg is mended, we'll get you back on a horse. You will learn, son.'
And although that last was said in a tone of encouragement, to George it sounded more like an iron-willed threat.
He did want to be a proper gentleman when he grew up, like his father, but if he were just expected to follow his instincts, how was he ever going to learn?