The Etiquette of Love
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jane Austen—no infringement intended as I'm just showing my appreciation for it.
Many an observer may be forgiven for coming to the conclusion that the vapid and conceited Mrs. Elton was devoid of feelings. Yes, she rarely paused to contemplate the welfare of others, as she considered Venetian lace, gold trimmings and London-tailored silk dresses to be the upmost of importance; but there were moments like tonight, for example, when she indulged in some self-introspection.
The Knightleys were holding the annual Christmas Eve ball at Hartwell and Mrs. Elton was standing by the fireplace with a glass of wine. She considered herself the paragon of social etiquette as she was neither drinking nor eating too much and nor did she slouch as she saw Mrs. Harriet Martin do. All in all, Mrs. Elton believed that just by being present at this mundane event, she was lifting the standard of the company, conversation and general atmosphere (though there was far too little silk, lace and baubles in her opinion—if she had had her way, the Christmas tree would have taken up the entire room!)
Mrs. Elton's lips curled in disdain as she observed Mr. Knightley brush his lips against the knuckles of his wife of one year, Emma Woodhouse, and murmur something in her ear that made her smile.
Emma tipped her face up to his and much to Mrs. Elton's horror, lightly pressed her lips against his briefly. A feeling that Mrs. Elton refused to identify as jealousy rose up through her when Mr. Knightley tenderly caressed her cheek in response.
Really! Mrs. Elton thought. They are flouting all society's rules with those uncalled for public displays of marital harmony! My, if the Knightleys did that same performance in London, they would be barred from all proper society!
Indeed, Mrs. Elton prided herself on the fact that she and Mr. Elton had never been indecent like that—in public, or private. Her stomach lurched when she thought of the staid nights at home in which she would display her superior talents of sewing, painting or music, while her husband wrote his new speech for the upcoming church service. She did not love Mr. Elton, though she felt gratitude for him as he provided her with new carriages, clothes and jewellery whenever she wanted.
Mrs. Elton could say honestly that she and her husband had never been swept away by irrational and unseemly passion. Then why did that declaration feel so hollow?
Mrs. Weston came over to Mrs. Elton. "Doesn't Emma look so happy with Mr. Knightley? They always make me feel so happy whenever I look upon them. There is such great felicity and harmony between the two…"
Mrs. Elton plastered a smile on her face whilst inwardly criticising Mrs. Weston's cream gown with pearls that would be considered out of fashion in the Duchess of Cornwall's intimate circle. "Yes, though I do think that their displays of affection are uncalled for and unseemly."
Mrs. Weston's habitually cheerful composure faltered. "Well…I suppose we are all entitled to our own opinion, Mrs. Elton".
"Mrs. Weston, in my long sojourns in London and Bath, there have always been strict rules of interaction between the sexes. All my dear acquaintances—like the Duchess of Cornwall who is a most charitable lady and is in the inner circle of Her Majesty—would have frowned upon the laxity in society that Highbury appears to encourage and foster and—"
"Mrs. Elton, how nice of you to grace us with your presence tonight," interrupted Mrs. Emma Knightley sweetly, her arms gracefully placed across her rounded belly that was heavy with child.
"Thank-you," Mrs. Elton replied with equal sugary sweetness.
Mrs. Knightley was the only person who could make Mrs. Elton feel remotely discomfited because she could never tell whether Mrs. Knightley was mocking her or not. Mrs. Knightley was famed for her wit (though Mrs. Elton thought it quite unbecoming in a woman—a married woman at that!) and her seemingly endless amount of energy that she channelled into charity, balls, outdoor excursions and above all: her small family circle of Mr. Knightley and Mr. Woodhouse.
Furthermore, Mrs. Elton always considered that it was inappropriate Mr. Knightley moved into his wife's house instead of commanding her to relocate to his magnificent property of Donwell Abbey.
"My dearest Emma," Mrs. Weston said brightly, all her discomfort erased at the appearance of her closest friend, "Mrs. Elton and I have just been commenting on how well you are looking. How are you faring?"
Mrs. Knightley's entire face lit up like a beacon in the darkness. She patted her belly and smiled as a cat would after drinking the richest cream. "I have never felt better. Mr. Knightley and I are so excited about the coming addition to our little party at Hartwell. He shall be the heir to both Donwell and Hartwell. If he is anything like his father, he will do great things for Highbury—indeed, Highbury will not have seen his like."
"With the combination of the two of us, my love," Mr. Knightley gently interjected, his eyes twinkling with good humour as he joined their circle by the fireplace. He bowed to Mrs. Elton and Mrs. Weston and then Emma slipped her arm familiarly through his. "Whether it be a boy or a girl, I care not."
"It will be a boy," Emma said serenely. "I have a sense it will."
"And what sense is that?" Mr. Knightley asked as he raised an eyebrow.
"The millennia-old lore of womanly intuition," Emma replied with a touch of smugness in her voice.
"Do you mean the type of millennia-old lore that involves newts, cauldrons and other such tripe that the three witches from Macbeth chanted?"
"Do not mock what you do not understand, my dearest Mr. Knightley."
Mr. Knightley snorted in disbelief but his lips twitched as if he was fighting back a smile.
Emma's eyes flickered to Mr. Knightley's and the pair shared an intense gaze. Some sort of unspoken communication flew between the two that Mrs. Elton could not decipher.
Not liking to be on the outskirts of attention, Mrs. Elton stepped in: "I think those heathen practices are despicable and should not be given one iota of attention. Mr. Knightley, you should send your wife to my dear Mr. Elton who will be more than obliging to give her some useful biblical tracts in preparation for the birth. Your wife should not be listening to soothsayers and other such rubbish. What do you say, Mr. Knightley?"
"I shall think upon it," Mr. Knightley replied evenly, his eyes giving no trace on what he thought.
Emma flushed a pink hue but managed to maintain a cool composure. "Why, Mrs. Elton! I thank you for your deep knowledge and experience on motherhood. I'll be most sure to take your views into account."
Mrs. Elton, completely missing the irony in Mrs. Knightley's tone, continued on: "Well, my friends have told me on numerous occasions how valuable my advice is. Do you know that the Duchess of Devonshire once told me that she had never met anyone more confident about the knowledge of life than I."
"I have to agree with your esteemed Duchess of Devonshire," Emma responded smoothly.
"Emma," cautioned Mr. Knightley.
Mrs. Weston bit her lip in anxiety. "I don't think that this kind of talk is doing any good for the baby. My dearest Emma, you appear rather peaky. Are you unwell?"
"A little fatigued," Emma said in a strained voice. "I just need to sit down."
"Oh when I was feeling ill last September, I prescribed myself three doses of—"
"My apologies, Mrs. Elton, but my wife is appearing pale. I promise that after dinner, we can continue this conversation over some port."
"Of course, of course," Mrs. Elton said as Mr. Knightley led his wife away to one of the cushioned armchairs in the adjoining chamber and Mrs. Weston promptly excused herself to join her own husband who was exchanging lively banter with the Martins and the Churchills.
Mrs. Elton cast her gaze around the room and saw her own husband feigning interest at the inane chatter of Miss Bates. Not keen to suffer the company of Miss Bates, Mrs. Elton was at a loss on who to call upon next. Her eyes then drifted to the Knightleys who were sitting close together, their heads nearly touching.
Mrs. Elton observed Mr. Knightley kiss Emma's hands and then enfold them within his own. In a moment of unseemly weakness, Mrs. Elton found herself wishing that Mr. Elton would look her way and smile at her with the easy intimacy Mr. Knightley always summoned when he looked upon his own wife.
Seemingly without her own volition, Mrs. Elton wafted towards the Knightleys. To her luck, no one appeared to notice her movements so she could be reasonably within earshot of the Knightleys' conversation.
"…I am sorry that you had to be subjected to that, my love," Mrs. Knightley murmured.
"Mrs. Elton means well."
Mrs. Elton bristled and longed to stride in and confront them, but she held her tongue.
Mrs. Knightley laughed softly. "You always do think the best of people. I am afraid that I am far less patient with the faults of others."
"You are certainly tolerant of my faults, my dearest."
Mrs. Knightley smiled indulgently at her husband and gently brushed her fingers against his cheek. "Hardly. I would say it is the other way round. Your only fault is being too tolerant of the boastful and inane chatter of others. I would have flown at Mrs. Elton had she continued with her vain boasting about all her fine friends and her superior knowledge."
Mr. Knightley quirked his lips. "You are too much of a gentlewoman to have lowered yourself to that level."
"A gentlewoman, am I?"
Identical smiles lit the couple's faces as if they were remembering some past intimate memory that only the two of them were privy to.
"Most of the time," and then he leaned his lips beside her ears and whispered something that was inaudible to Mrs. Elton's ears. Emma's eyes widened and her cheeks took on a pleasant blush as a smug look crossed her features.
"Indeed, Mr. Knightley, indeed," she breathed, her eyes gleaming. "You are a tonic to a woman's spirits."
"I aim to please, my love," he replied and the two chuckled in a conspiratorial manner as if it were some inside joke that only lovers would understand.
"As much as I would love to spend the rest of the night with you, my darling, we had better return to the party before we are sought after by my father who is probably wondering if we have been abducted by brigands."
Mr. Knightley chuckled but acquiesced to Emma's request and helped his heavily pregnant wife struggle up from her seat.
Mrs. Elton immediately turned away from the contented domestic scene that she could never be party to or experience. She had never thought her life was lacking in anything until the union of Mr. Knightley and Miss Woodhouse. It was then she realised that riches could not cover everything.
She turned around startled when she felt a light arm on her elbow. It was her husband. She tried hard to force away any comparison between her husband and the epitome of gentleman conduct, Mr. Knightley.
"Mrs. Elton—it is time to join the guests at the table," he announced primly.
Mrs. Elton swallowed hard and nodded mutely which was uncharacteristic for her, but Mr. Elton did not enquire after her wellbeing (being like his wife, completely oblivious to the feelings of others) and led her to the dinner table.
And for the first time in Mrs. Elton's life, she felt envious as she saw Emma sitting at one end of the table, practically glowing like a bountiful goddess with her full belly and gracious smile.
And a painful lesson was brought home to her: a loving marriage, family and friends could not be brought by money.
Hope you all enjoyed it. Please review and tell me what you think!