"But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trsuted his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as her father's happiness - in other words his life - required Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise."
'Emma', Chapter 51
Home at Downell
"Oh! Mr. Knightley," the stout silver-haired Mrs. Hodges rushed into the Donwell library, "the flowers have all been arranged in your bedchamber and the dinning-room as you ordered; I even hung garlands on the railing of the grand-staircase and over all the mantelpieces!" In one breath, the Donwell housekeeper reported all her missions accomplished.
George looked up from his agricultural report, "Thank you very much, Mrs. Hodges!" gratifying his talented housekeeper with his sincere smile.
"I'm so excited that Mrs. Emma is to come and you both will be staying for the night! It has been nearly four months since you last took her here, Mr. Knightley! You know how we all love Mrs. Emma here at Donwell since she was just a little girl!" If Mrs. Hodges' enthusiasm was in any form deficient in conveying her excitement, her sparkling grey eyes and bright rosy cheeks had certainly sufficed them.
And George, needless to say, had been looking forward exceedingly to spending the night with Emma at his own home since receiving Mr. Woodhouse's consent more than a week ago, but did far better at composing himself not giving away half his true state of emotion.
"Yes, Mrs. Hodges, it has been a while since Emma came for the night. You understand that her father requires her to stay at Hartfield most of the time and it takes some arrangement before we could free ourselves for a night at Donwell." He smiled and stated calmly.
"Of course, Mr. Knightley! I think it is most exceptional of you to accommodate the needs of Mr. Woodhouse - what man in this world would be willing to give up his own home for the comfort of his father-in-law? You do not know how proud we are to serve such a kind loving master!"
Though feeling undeserved, George was grateful for the praises from this kind and faithful Donwell Abbey housekeeper, who had served the family since he was still in his mother's womb, and was more like an old family friend than a long-time servant.
"And Clare is making White Soup, Spinach Herb Quiche, Chicken Fricassee, and Trifle with Whipt Sillabub for supper – these are all yours and Mrs. Emma's favourites!"
"Mrs. Hodges, they sound delicious!" George's eyes lit up, he stood up from the desk and walked over to Mrs. Hodges, "You know Mrs. Hodges," he grinned boyishly, "all this talk of Mrs. Mayson's excellent food is making my stomach grumble! I may need you to sneak a piece of the spinach quiche or trifle to me before it's time for supper."
"Oh, Master George, you haven't changed a bit since you were a little boy!" Mrs. Hodges cried indignantly. "You must remember how you got me in trouble with Mrs. Knightley every time you made me smuggling food from the kitchen!" Her furrowed brows, the frown that she purposely put up as she had done numerous times when he was growing up – the motherly exasperation of Mrs. Hodges was always an endearing expression to George.
He lowered his voice, looked around and said, "But if you don't tell, no one needs to know!" Grinning mischievously and even more boyishly, "It will be our little secret Mrs. Hodges, just like old times; and Mrs. Knightley, the young Mrs. Knightley won't know and you will not get in trouble!"
Mrs. Hodges shook her silver-haired head and rolled her gleaming kind eyes, "I'll see what I can do!" She turned around for the door quitting the library before George could see the big smile on her gentle motherly face.
In the meantime, only a mile away from Donwell Abbey, the Mistress of Hartfield was finding the task of keeping the flutters in her stomach at bay quite difficult to manage. Like George, Emma had been looking forward to their stay at the Abbey exceedingly, but, unlike her beloved husband the young mistress lacked the self control that George mastered all his life, it felt like the appointed hour of her departure for Donwell was never to come! Even the generally inobservant Mr. Woodhouse had noticed his daughter's restlessness since she sent George off to Donwell after breakfast.
"Are you well, Emma my dear?" Mr. Woodhouse asked in his usual concerned spirit.
"Huh?" Emma was staring at her pocket watch counting down the hours to her departure when she faintly heard her father's voice.
"Are you well, Emma my dear?" Her father asked again.
"I am sorry, Papa… I was only looking at the time… yes, I am very well, Papa!"
"But you have not been yourself the whole day, Emma my dear. Should I send for Mr. Perry?"
"No, Papa, I am very well indeed, no need to send for Mr. Perry… I am only looking forward to the visit at Donwell Abbey tonight!" Emma explained, unaware of the sweet smile crept up on her face.
Mr. Woodhouse looked perplexed.
"Emma my dear… you had been to Donwell Abbey so many times since you were a little child, what is it that you look forward to so much? As Mr. Knightley is now residing at Hartfield, and I have not heard him speaking of any changes at the Abbey, would it not be the same old Abbey you have seen numerous times before?"
Emma found her father's comment quite amusing.
"Yes, Papa, it is true that I have been to the Abbey many times since I was a child, but it is different now that Mr. Knightley and I are married. Even though Mr. Knightley lives here with us at Hartfield, Donwell Abbey is still his home, it is very special to him, I mean to us to spend even a little time at his own home!"
Mr. Woodhouse sighed.
"It is indeed very kind of Mr. Knightley to give up his home to live here at Hartfield to protect us and the turkeys! But he does have everything he needs here at Hartfield, and you always take such good care of him, I do not think he should miss the Abbey so very much."
Emma had always loved her father's simplicity of mind; as he was not one to possess strong understanding of the human feelings, it was enough to her that he even acknowledged George's generosity in giving up his home - in spite of how mistaken he was in George's reason. She was content to leave their conversation the way it was - that was until Mr. Woodhouse decided to carry on further.
"You know, Emma my dear… you and Mr. Knightley will be missing out on our backgammon night with our friends at Hartfield tonight. What is it that you and Mr. Knightley do at the Abbey that you would rather miss out on our backgammon night, my dear?"
"Uh… nothing very unusual, Papa…" Her voice was tentative.
"There must have been something that you did that made you want to visit again so much, Emma my dear!"
"Hum… yes, of course! Mrs. Mayson prepared us a marvelous supper last time and we thoroughly enjoyed her food, Papa!"
"But our Serle is a wonderful cook, too. He could make whatever Mrs. Mayson made for you and Mr. Knightley… and I dare say it will not be quite as rich!"
She only nodded and looked down.
"What else did you do, Emma my dear?"
"Huh!… uh… Mr. Knightley read to me after supper, Papa…"
"But he reads to us every night at Hartfield, Emma my dear!"
"Yes… Papa… Mr. Knightley reads to us at Hartfield every night…" Her voice grew very quiet, "…but it was different when he reads to me at Donwell…" Her father did not hear this last part.
"And what else did you do at Donwell last time?"
Emma found her father's sudden curiosity completely out of character and uncomfortably prodding! She was on the edge of her seat, her heart began to throb; convinced that her mind must conjure up a satisfactory – but discreet – answer for her father.
"… I played the piano forte… and sang for Mr. Knightley… Papa…"
"You do have the loveliest voice one has ever heard, Emma my dear! And did you sing my favorite song? 'A Fox May Steal Your Hens, Sir'… I always love the last lines, 'If Lawyer's Hand is fee'd, Sir. He steals your whole Estate, He steals your whole Estate.'" Mr. Woodhouse started chuckling to himself.
"… no, Papa… I did not sing your favorite song…" Emma's voice faltered as her thought drifted to the song she sang for George that night, 'The Seeds of Love' - and the one that he sang for her and he would never sing for anyone except her! –'Some Rival Has Stolen My True Love Away'
Anxious over where this conversation might lead, Emma's person began to tense up; wishing to be excused from her father's presence, she opened her mouth to speak but with her bad luck her father had beaten her to it…
"And what did you do after you sang?"
She could feel her face getting warm! She swallowed.
"Huh… what we did after I sang? Ah… ah… Mr. Knightley and I watched the constellations from his library…"
"Constellations!" Mr. Woodhouse sounded surprised, "Can you not see the stars from Hartfield, Emma my dear? The stars in the sky are the same here or there!"
"But… Papa! The view from Mr. Knightley's library was amazing…" her voice trailed off with her mind… It was amazing because we sat on the blankets that George spread on the floors as we watched the stars, the moonlight streamed through the window illuminated us like we were angels… and he held me in his arms as he named the stars for me one by one, and told me the beautiful stories behind each one of them… Emma deliberately left out these details from her father as the thought of his daughter and son-in-law sitting on the floors getting damp and catching cold would sure mortify him; and by all honesty - she infinitely preferred keeping the memory of their romantic evening at Donwell private to only her and George!
"But you and Mr. Knightley could not be looking at constellations all night long, Emma my dear!"
Her hands clenched the edge of her chair, her voice creaked, "… no… we… did not…" Of course they did not look at constellations all night long… but she could not possibly reveal the intimate details of what they did in the privacy of their bedchamber at the Abbey to anyone – not even, especially not – to her own father!
"What… what did you say, my dear?"
"We… we… we then retired… that was all, Papa!"
Emma blushed furiously, wishing to crawl under the rug under her seat and never came out!
"Oh… Was that all? Then I really do not understand why you would rather miss backgammon night than giving up your visit at the Abbey tonight!" Mr. Woodhouse looked bewildered, returning to his newspaper.
Her hands covering her red hot face, Emma breathed an enormous silent sigh of relief and thanked her stars for her father's lack of imagination!
"You know Emma my dear…" Mr. Woodhouse realized he had one more thing in mind to say, "What shall I do if I found the draft in my room unbearable tonight? I always call for you when I need something in the middle of nights, what am I to do when you are not around?" Mr. Woodhouse lamented.
"Do not worry, Papa! You have Mary on guard for you all night long. Mary knows all your habits as well as I do, she will take great care of you, Papa!"
"But no one is like you my dearest Emma – so loving and attentive – I do not know what to do without you!"
"Thank you, Papa!" she said very quietly, sincerely thanking her father, but deliberately ignoring the subtle pang in her heart!
Emma finally managed to settle Mr. Woodhouse for his supper, which as usual was taken at the early hour of half past four; and in spite of her father's protest, with every hope that their guests would be allowed to partake her hospitality in her absence, she ordered cake and tea be served upon the arrival of her father's card-mates, Mrs. Bates, Miss Bates and Mrs. Goddard; and last but not least, she made sure that Mary would fluff her father's pillow to perfection before he retired for the night. Then under Mr. Woodhouse's insistence, she wrapped herself in the thick shawl, put on her bonnet, and bade her father a pleasant evening. With her clothes and necessities already packed and stowed in the carriage, Emma and Betty took the short carriage ride to Donwell Abbey, where George was awaiting eagerly outside the front door of his estate.
"Right on time!" His heart skipped as he saw the Hartfield carriage approaching and checked his watch.
He opened the carriage-door, reaching for Emma's hand with great anticipation. Although he had handed Emma out of carriages numerous times on countless occasions, the rare occasion of receiving his beloved wife at his home at Donwell Abbey was an experience that he would never take for granted, an experience that he treasured with unspoken pride and joy.
"Your father is doing well tonight?" He asked, wanting to be certain.
"Yes, Papa is having supper as we speak and everything is in good order for him for the rest of the evening." Emma smiled happily at him and took his loving arm as they walked toward the house.
"And my dearest Mrs. Knightley," he said, with an endearing gallantry reserved only for his beloved wife, "I hope you will find everything in perfect order for you this evening here at the Abbey!" He brought her delicate hand up to his lips, and as with extreme care and tenderness, pressed a very soft kiss on it in very slow motion.
It was not often that the clever and expressive Emma found herself at a loss with words, but when her country gentleman husband displayed so handsomely his rare gallantry reserved exclusively for her, and when the flutters that started in her stomach escaped all the way filling her head, the only response she could muster was – a sigh!
As soon as Mrs. Hodges heard the couple coming inside the house, the elderly woman ran to the foyer to greet Emma with outstretched arms and irrepressible smiles.
"Oh! Good evening Mrs. Emma! How wonderful to have you at Donwell tonight!" The kind lady seized Emma's hands with both of hers.
Just like George, Emma had known Mrs. Hodges her entire life; the faithful Donwell Abbey housekeeper used to claim that of all the Highbury children she ever knew, little Miss Emma of the Woodhouses was her second favourite, second only to her Master George when he was her age – Emma had the greatest suspicion that the passage of time had not changed, not even in the slightest, this claim of Mrs. Hodges!
"Good evening, Mrs. Hodges!" Emma smiled brightly at the kind woman, squeezing her hands warmly to return her affectionate welcome.
"Mrs. Emma, you are looking more and more beautiful every time I see you! And it has been four months, four months, since you last stayed at the Abbey!"
"Thank you, Mrs. Hodges! Though I do come to the Abbey quite often during the day, it has indeed been a while since I stayed the night!"
"I hope you'll find everything to your liking, Mrs. Emma! We tried so hard to make sure everything is ready for you… and how is Mr. Woodhouse? - Very well, indeed… with such attentive daughter and son-in-law! - And supper will be served as soon as you change… oh! Is this a new dress, Mrs. Emma? How lovely it looks on you… but you always look lovely in anything you put on… and with your complexion and all, even a sack would look charming on you…" Emma could not keep from blushing as Mrs. Hodges showering her with praises without even a brief pause.
George, who had been ignored by his wife and housekeeper all the while, found it incredibly amusing to watch the motherly Mrs. Hodges fussing over his lovely wife's hair, her shawl, her dress, and complimenting to no end her perfect form and beauty. As he was enjoying this amusing scene, he suddenly realized that he had not seen his faithful housekeeper being in this state of excitement for a very long time, and it, at last, struck him of how much his staffs at Donwell must have missed having their master and mistress residing at the Abbey – almost as much as he had missed living in the home that generations of Knightleys, himself included, grew up in! Nevertheless, as his self control always prevailed, he would not allow himself to think of such feelings longer than he could count to twenty.
He was leaning by the window in his bedchamber waiting patiently for Emma to change for supper. George surveyed the room - his eyes captured by the handy works of Mrs. Hodges, his heart thanked the talented housekeeper for doing justice to his request.
Donwell Abbey had been a bachelor residence since both his parents passed away. Every turn, every parlour, every corner, even every wall in the mansion was stately and solemn. The feminine touches that his mother impressed upon different parts of the estate had either worn off or been replaced by more masculine and unintentional designs. He used to imagine that when his own Mrs. Knightley moved into the Abbey, all the feminine touches would revive and Donwell Abbey would once again be lively. But instead of Emma moving into Donwell, he had removed to Hartfield, any changes to the Abbey would have to wait. Nonetheless, he reckoned that his chamber, now he and Emma's chamber, was too masculine for his wife's elegant taste, he wanted the place be brighten up during their rare stay – and he thought that the colourful spring flowers from the Donwell garden would suit Emma's taste and liveliness perfectly!
The click-click noise of the dressing-room door-handle awakened him from his thoughts, his gaze turned as he stood - Emma had emerged from the dressing-room in her elegant silk gown in pale-peach colour, a colour that always brought out the brilliance in her shimmering hazel eyes; and for tonight, her beautiful hair, as she knew how George loved running his fingers through and feeling the smoothness of her luscious hair, instead of being pulled up on the back as they usually were, her long wavy locks were left flowing enchantingly over her delicate shoulders and bare neckline – the golden hair that draped over her pale-peach gown, blending so seamlessly with the milky complexion of her flawless skin had made his already beautiful wife looked like an angel stepping out of a fairy tale.
He had loved looking at her for longer than he could remember – and he loved looking at her even more tonight! His eyes beamed with unsurpassable adoration, captivated by her breathtaking beauty, George stood there forgetting to move, admiring his beautiful Emma speechlessly.
While Betty took her silent exit, Emma walked over to George by the window, glancing at the flowers around the chamber, she asked demurely, "Are the flowers your idea?"
At last, he gathered up his wit to speak, "It was winter last time we stayed at Donwell, I did not think you would like so much having trees in our chamber," moving an inch forward, he leaned close to Emma and spoke softly to her, "but now that it is spring, I thought you would enjoy the flowers from our own garden!"
His warm breath sent shivers to her heart; looking up at him, she leaned even closer to him and said tenderly, "Thank you for the flowers, George! They are beautiful!"
His hands gently cradling her waist over the smooth fabric of her gown, lowering his head and his voice even further still, he said, "They cannot compare to you, Emma!"
The gentle cradling of her waist no sooner had turned into a complete lockdown of her in his arms, and the kiss that he began so softly with was transforming rapidly into a kiss that had both their hearts raced and blood raged – a kiss that would last in their memory until their next visit at their Donwell Abbey home.
No matter how much he loved Mr. Woodhouse, how much he felt at home at Hartfield, being here with his most beloved wife, in his own bedchamber, at his own home gave George a very different kind of feeling – the feeling of complete ease, a sense of being in total command, the uninhibited sensation that dared him to release his untamed passion, and the grace that he would have never granted himself anywhere else - to be selfish and have Emma all to himself.
And Emma shared too well the same sentiment. Hartfield had been her home since her birth; it was beyond her deepest gratitude to have her husband residing at her home for the comfort of her father. But it was not without its toll – the hourly demands for her attention from her nervous father could at times try the tireless patience of Emma and George, particularly when it was during the couple's intimate moments that her father sent for her for the most tedious and trivial matters. Though George had never uttered a word of complaint or displayed even the slightest vestige of impatience, Emma had often regretted that she could hardly give the attention that her loving husband so very much deserved. Their time at Donwell, at his home, as rare as it was, allowed Emma the unreserved feeling that she rightfully and entirely belonged to him, no one but him – and she longed to give in to all that he desired of her.
Nevertheless, the sacrifice that the couple endured, which they never thought of from one month end to another, was incomparable to the love both Emma and George had for Mr. Woodhouse – and they would never dwell on what they missed at Hartfield, but only what they gained at Donwell - where they would cherish each other without the tiniest trace of distraction.
Unbridled was his unleashed passion, but George Knightley, a man who had learnt the art of impeccable self control, would once again summon his discipline and wait!
He unlocked his grip from her waist, released her lips from his own, leaving Emma breathless, taking a deep breath for himself, he said tenderly to his darling wife, "Mrs. Hodges is waiting for us, shall we?"
"Hum …yes!" She opened her love-dazed eyes to see the man she adored and smiled contentedly at him.
George drew Emma's hands through his arm in his gentlemanly manner, and the happy couple descended to the dinning-room to partake their intimate supper with just the two of them.
The excellent supper by Mrs. Mayson was delicious and thoroughly enjoyed, and - so - was the rest of their evening at their Dowell Abbey home!
~ The End ~
A/N: This was originally written as part of the Epilogue for 'A Lady and a 'Gentleman'', but was taken out because I liked the sentiment of this piece very much thought it would serve better as a stand alone oneshot. If you have read the epilogue in 'A Lady and a 'Gentleman', this would have happened right after the Kitchen scene at Donwell Abbey.
Thank you for reading! :-)