Hi friends,
so this is a one-shot set in the Emma Approved universe. I honestly can say that I love the series and I have no complaints about it - which is not so strange considering my love and loyalty to Jane Austen's work and their subsequent adaptations (although, with that being said, it's completely okay to think otherwise!). Here is a little jealous!Alex because we all know it's coming ;) and it will be great.
Very loose 1am drabble, hope you enjoy. (Also, I imagined the perfect Joanna Sotomura and Brent Bailey as I wrote this. Jane and Frank still, I fear, mystery characters in my mind!)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All credit to Jane and PD.
For the third time this evening, Alex finds himself tugging at the bow-tie Emma had insisted on him wearing. The pair had gone suit shopping weeks ago for the occasion and she commented on how 'handsomely' Alex pulled off the look. He now regrets letting her influence his decision of tonight's attire. This tie was just too damn suffocating. And Frank Churchill should not be holding her like he is right now.
Emma and Harriet had been planning this benefit for weeks, with no direct line of sight. So the other day when she barged into his office, distracted and frustrated while waiting on a call from the Coles, Alex felt inclined to offer some form of therapy. Retail therapy.
As it turns out, shopping with Emma Woodhouse is not as terrifying as most would assume. Sure, it took a couple of hours to find an Emma Approved outfit but, to be fair, his trust in her abilities within the fashion department would not be paralleled. He made the mistake of letting her know that by asking for her assistance throughout college. She just always looked so, well, incredible. Because, you know, she has impeccable taste in clothing, and a good sense of how to wear it and just cool style and stuff.
Like tonight. Emma Woodhouse has, once again, captured the attention of the entire function by her outward charm and beauty. Alex finds it hard to decide on where to direct his gaze. For one, he can't focus on their potential male clients -as she asked- because they're too busy focusing on Emma. He knows, he sees them. Good luck, he thinks, as he watches them practically pine after a moment with her. He can't have discussions with potential female clients because they, in most situations, are allowed to be vocal in their admiration of Emma. Which then, understandably, causes Alex to follow a line of sight to the one he vowed not to focus on tonight. Upon arrival, and after seeing Emma once at the start of the night, Alex Knightley made the decision to at least try and not flatter her vanity any more than everyone else. He can't help the way he looks at her. Or the way she leaves him in awe sometimes. He wasn't avoiding Emma. He doesn't do that.
He is avoiding Frank Churchill who, three times throughout the evening, has managed to convince Emma to dance with him. At a benefit on a ranch!
Despite his best attempts, at every point throughout the night Emma Woodhouse has camped out in Alex's peripheral vision. That can't possibly count, though, right? He watches her carry on with the charming processes: chatting with individuals, dancing with... other individuals, and probably not even noticing his presence - or, rather, lack thereof...
.
.
.
Three things Emma Woodhouse has gathered from the benefit:
Firstly, Harriet has done an incredible job - organising and executing - never to be doubted again.
Secondly, she should not be dancing in these heels.
And finally, Alex Knightley has been avoiding her!
She thought she was imagining it at first but, after seeing him seated by Jane Fairfax - not according to the chart - for over twenty minutes, she just knew something was up. Twenty minutes with the beloved Miss Fairfax and only a brief moment of 'Wow, Emma'? So not Emma Approved! Not at all! Also, 'Wow, Emma' what, Alex Knightley? 'Wow, Emma', what?
Author's Note:
I had fun writing this. Sorry it's short. Let me know if you want to see more of Emma and Knightley. The next episode comes out in a few hours! Peaking.