A/N: Yes, it's another new story. Naturally I have about four assignments and an exam looming, so I am on a total fanfic roll, LOL.

I hope the ending I've got in mind for this story will seem plausible and satisfying to you when it comes; that said, I'm anxious to know what you think, so please review!

Half Agony, Half Hope

Chapter One – A Proposal of Sorts

Jane Fairfax had not been having a good week. Or indeed a good month. In fact, the last time she could remember herself being truly happy had been at the ball at the Crown Inn, the ball she had known Frank had organised especially for her, knowing how much she loved a dance.

Before that he had sent her the pianoforte, and although she would rather have dispensed with it and would have been content with the smaller gifts of letters, pressed flowers and smaller trinkets which he had been in the habit of sending her, at least it had been a sign that he had been thinking of her.

For the past month all that had ceased, and though he had said that it was for safety's sake, as her aunt might happen upon a letter as she almost had that one time, and then their secret would be all over Highbury, she was hurt by it. Her rational mind had agreed with him, but she could not help the stab of jealousy as she saw the true reason behind it. He had been for the past several months – despite all her protests, not just for her own sake – paying attention to Emma Woodhouse, at first supposedly as a blind to conceal his situation with herself, but now it seemed that he had truly fallen in love with her.

She could not get Frank's words at the Box Hill picnic out of her mind, his cold looks as he had all but told her right there in front of everyone that he regretted his hasty proposal to her. He had spent the rest of the picnic flirting with Miss Woodhouse, who had responded in kind, and Jane knew now that he was lost to her.

She had decided that she would not be a burden to him forever. In fact, she would set him free so that he could marry Miss Woodhouse as he clearly wished to. Accordingly, she had stayed up all night to compose the letter that would break all the ties between them, as well as the one which formed her acceptance of the situation she had hoped she would never have to enter.

Although there was no change in her enthusiasm – or rather, lack thereof – as regarded entering a position as a governess, she could see no other option before her. She would rather live in a house being despised and tormented by unruly children, treated as little more than a servant by the people of the house and held aloof from the servants themselves than become an object of resentment and hatred with Frank by holding him to his promise and trapping him in an unhappy marriage.

It had not been easy to let him go, but she hoped that she had cried all the tears that it could provoke already.

She walked briskly away from the post office after having delivered the letters which were to seal her fate, and decided to extend her walk past Highbury and into the pretty fields that bordered the woods. She needed to restore her tranquility somewhat if she stood any chance of listening to Aunt Hetty with the patience which she knew she deserved, especially after Miss Woodhouse's hurtful slight to her just the previous day.

She tried not to think of Miss Woodhouse, for she only seemed to raise negative feelings, and in the next moment was assisted in her resolution by almost walking into Mr. Knightley.

'Miss Fairfax,' he said, without so much as a preliminary greeting, 'I was wishing to speak with you, and your aunt said you had gone for a walk.'

'Indeed, I had,' was all she could think of saying. Although she was in no mood to speak to anyone, she let Mr. Knightley walk beside her, because he had never been anything but kind and considerate towards herself and her aunt, and he surely deserved at least a little common courtesy from her in return.

After walking along some moments in silence, uncomfortable on her part, abstracted on his, she decided to assist him to his point. 'You wished to speak with me, sir?'

He started, almost as if he had forgotten she was there, and then he nodded. 'Yes.' After a brief pause, he sighed. 'I was wondering, Miss Fairfax, if you would consent to give me your hand in marriage,' he said flatly.

She was astounded, and not just at the fact that he was asking her to marry him. It was the most hideously unromantic proposal she had ever received – well, not that she had ever received any apart from Frank's, but still. She had known Mr. Knightley to be a man of few words, but this was ridiculous.

She tried to think of a way to gently let him down – for, naturally to marry him without loving him was impossible – and of course, even more importantly, she had only sent her letter off to Frank that morning. Until it reached him and he had time to reply – not that she was hoping for him to rush back to Highbury and beg her to reconcile with him – she must consider herself as still bound to him.

But then it struck her that Mr. Knightley was not even looking at her, and did not in fact even seem to be listening for a reply. In that moment, it was clear to Jane that he loved her as much as she loved him – that is, not at all; and her curiosity was piqued. Mr. Knightley had always seemed to her to be perfectly content with his life as a bachelor, and if he was looking for a wife merely for the purpose of providing himself with an heir then surely he would find many a willing heiress in London – his picking her was unaccountable. 'May I ask, sir, why you would wish me to marry you?'

He looked down at her without any sign that he found the question an odd one. 'Emma – Miss Woodhouse is going to marry Frank Churchill,' he said finally, and his eyes were filled with raw anguish.

His words were like a sharp slap and she realised two things simultaneously: one, that Mr. Knightley was in love with Miss Woodhouse, and two, that her Frank was as well, and was in fact going to marry her. 'Do you know it for certain?' she managed to choke. 'Have either of them said anything?'

'Not directly, no,' he said, 'but I know it – I cannot answer for Mr. Churchill, but Emma would never have behaved with him as she did at Box Hill had they not had an understanding.' His voice caught on the last word and he looked away, clearing his throat hastily.

She took the moment to swipe roughly at her eyes, and when he turned back to her both of them were models of outward composure. 'Do you have an answer for me, Miss Fairfax?' he asked.

'Mr. Knightley–'

Suddenly he sighed, shaking his head. 'I'm sorry – it was presumptuous of me to ask when we both know I can never give you the love you deserve. I just thought, well, if Emma is going to marry – and also you might prefer it to becoming a governess–'

After a moment's hesitation she stopped him by taking his hand. Despite the summer sun which beat down relentlessly over them, both of them had icy fingers. 'You're right, I would,' she said resolutely. She knew Mr. Knightley to be a good, kind man, and while she did not love him – and indeed, despite everything loved another still – she did like him. And Frank was going to marry Miss Woodhouse. If he thought so little of their promise to each other, if he could so lightly break it and attach himself to another, she would show him that it had meant just as little to her. 'In answer to your question, Mr. Knightley, I would be honoured to be your wife.'

She dropped his hand then, for it was too strange, and they both walked together in silence for some time longer before parting their ways.