Author's Note: when Mr Elton confesses his feelings for Emma it had been described as 'making violent love', it is clear that the phrase meant a different thing in the early 19th century than it does today. However I wanted to explore the idea of what could have happened if the phrase meant the same thing as it did today. Warnings, very dark implications.

Mr Knightly found his brother pacing the hallway anxiously. The last time he had seen his brother do this was during Isabella's recent childbirth that produced baby Emma. However unlike that time John did not look excited and eager, today he looked sombre and guilty. His face was paler than it had ever been before and he kept looking back at the door with regret filled eyes.

"How is she?" Mr Knightly asked.

"She has not eaten," John said quietly, nodding towards the tray left by the door its food left untouched and probably stone cold by now. Mr Knightly privately thought that it was not unusual for gruel to be left untouched but Emma Woodhouse would always eat her gruel even though it was only to please her father. "She will not leave her room, nor will she let anyone in."

"She will soon," Mr Knightly said with certainty. After all, Emma could not bear to be alone; she was always in need of someone's company.

"Will she?" John asked. "This is something that no one could ever recover from. No woman expects to be...used in such a manner! And this is my fault! I have caused my wife's beloved sister the most terrible pains in the world."

"John, you did not know-"

"I should have been a good brother!" John interrupted Mr Knightly. "I should have stayed by her side and sat in that carriage with her. Instead I was so caught up that I left with my wife and father in law, leaving my sister in law in that man's hands! I have failed my duty as a brother and as a man."

"No one would have ever thought Mr Elton would-"

"I knew, George! I knew Mr Elton had intentions towards Emma! I had warned her that she was too encouraging and yet I had done nothing to prevent them for being alone together."

Mr Knightly placed a comforting hand on John's shoulder. "Go downstairs and hold your wife. Play with your children and reassure Mr Woodhouse. I will tend to Emma. This was not your fault John, we had all thought Mr Elton was a good man despite his vanity and truly believed that as a vicar he would not do such sinful crimes. We were all to blame for allowing him near a young lady but we must be grateful that it he had not the time to damage Emma further and the damage that has been done to her can easily be repaired."

"I hope you are right, George," John sighed.

"Go downstairs, you look tired," Mr Knightly said softly.

"I have been up all night," John admitted.

"Rest now brother," Mr Knightly commanded. John reluctantly went downstairs to join his wife and once Mr Knightly was certain John was settled in the parlour, he knocked on Emma's door. He did not expect any reply but to his surprise Emma opened the door almost immediately. She must have been listening to him and John moments ago. The sight of Emma caused Mr Knightly to out a strangled gasp. "Oh, Emma!"

It was a rare sight to see Emma's hair down. The moment she had become of age she eagerly had Miss Taylor (now Mrs Weston) to do her hair up and had never worn it down ever again. It was an even rarer sight to see Emma's hair so...tangled and snarled. As a child she has always had her hair perfectly curled. She was also paler than usual, so pale that she almost looked like a ghost, her white shift and large white shawl only made her look more ghostly. The only colour in her face was the purple around her eye and the swollen red on her bottom lip.

Caused by a harsh bite on the lips and a punch of an easily angered man who just had his ego destroyed.

Mr Knightly swallowed. He knew there were more bruises; the shawl was hiding the ones on her arms, shoulders and collar bone, and according to Isabella there were a couple on her thighs as well. All shaped like finger marks. Mr Knightly was furious, how dare he? How dare that swine call himself a vicar and yet abuse a lady in such a manner? How dare he even think of Emma in such a way?

It was a relief that James was such attentive driver to Emma and stopped the moment he heard Emma scream. Of course that had caused some of the bruises, the sudden halt of the horses had caused the carriage to sway on the icy path and topple over. Elton had dug his fingers into Emma's flesh tightly as if to cling on for dear life when the carriage fell to one side.

"He is a villain," Mr Knightly growled, "only a villain could do this to a woman."

Emma clutched her shawl and wrapped it tighter around her. "It is my fault," she murmured.

"No it was not!" Mr Knightly said. "Mr Elton is a disgusting excuse of a man and he took advantage of you in hopes of making you his wife. A man that feels the need to use such crimes to blackmail a woman into marriage is no man at all!"

"I...I will not marry him," Emma stammered. She looked so young and terrified and yet there it was that defiant glint in her eyes that Emma usually had when someone was telling her to not make another love match. "I will take Father's old sword to my heart if they force me to marry him!"

Mr Knightly could not help but place a comforting hand on her pale cheek that was quickly gaining colour in her sudden flash of anger. He immediately dropped his hand when Emma flinched at the barest brush of his fingers against her cheek.

"You will never have to marry him," he said sternly, "John and I will make sure he will never dream of standing in your presence ever again! If he dares say a bad word against you, I shall make him wish he had never stepped foot in Highbury."

There was a small twitch of her lips as she tried to smile and her eyes were watering quickly. "Thank you," Emma whispered staring at him with admiration and adoration that Mr Knightly thought he would never see again. She had stopped looking at him like that since she had turned twelve. "Thank you."

"Oh, my dear Emma," Mr Knightly murmured. "I wish I had taken that carriage with you instead of being stubborn and riding my horse. I should have taken better care of you."

Emma sniffled. "Never mind, it is too late now," she said, "Oh I am such a fool! I thought this man would be perfect for Harriet and instead...oh, you were right about my judgement. How could I attempt to match someone as sweet as Harriet to a villain like Mr Elton?"

"You did not know his true self, Emma, you are not a fool," Mr Knightly said gently, a little frustrated though that out of all that has happened Emma's only thought was about her matchmaking attempts for Harriet Smith. "We shall thank God for sparing Miss Smith this pain though I wish desperately that we could have spared you too."

Emma rubbed her arms. "I thought love was supposed to be a wonderful thing," she whispered as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"It is, Emma."

"Mr Elton claimed to love me. He said he loved me most passionately and desired me beyond others...if what he did to me was love, then how could I have ever encouraged Isabella, Mrs Weston and Harriet to find love?"

"Oh Emma, Mr Elton does not love you. He craves your fortune and social standing; he desires your body and is filled with lust for you. That is not love. Love is a beautiful gentle thing, it was compassion and warmth and a desire to protect your loved ones from harm," Mr Knightly said softly, "You should know this. You give out more love to the people you hold dearest to your heart than anyone else I know."

"But I do not!" Emma sobbed. "I have never been in love! I have heard it to be different from loving and now I do not know if I could ever know being in love! I am scared George! I am so scared that Mr Elton will come for me and try to wed me. I am scared that I shall never know the true meaning of being in love because all I will ever see is Mr Elton violently loving me!"

This was the second time Emma had ever called him George and dear god he wished that it happened in happier circumstances. Without a second thought Mr Knightly pulled Emma into his embrace as she cried into his shoulder. She did not flinch nor did she try to move away but she did not embrace him back either. He stroked her hair gently and soothed her with murmured words of comfort.

"My dearest Emma," he murmured, "if Mr Elton dares try to claim you as his wife I shall ensure he will never succeed, even if I was to marry you myself, I will do everything in my power to keep you out of his revolting hands." Emma let out a choked laughter as she pulled away, tears were still running down her cheeks but she looked happier than moments before. "There will be a day," he said pulling a handkerchief out and using it to wipe Emma's tears away, "that you will learn to be in love and it will be a wonderful day for you."

"I do not think I ever will," Emma said lifelessly. "I do not think I will ever have that wonderful day."

He swallowed and held back. He desperately wanted to hold her again and press kisses on her hair and face. He wanted to show her what true love was really like. What real passion and being in love felt like. He did not want her to be tainted by the vile Mr Elton. He did not want her to stay broken.

Emma stood before him pale and almost lifeless. That little defiance and life she had moments ago had vanished as quickly as it came. It will take months, maybe even years, for her to ever recover from such a terrible thing.

He wanted a day to come. A day when she is no longer so broken. A day when she will wake up and realise how much he loved her. A day when she will accept his hinted offer of marriage. A day where she can really be in love and understand what he had told her.

A day where his love could be returned.

A day when she is alive.