William Hill was not a troublemaker by any means, and those who knew him could attest to that, he had always been a good sort of boy with an easy temperament.
He was also very efficient at his job, tending to the horses.
In fact, most of the other workers at the Abbey would say that he was very good at it, and even Mr. Knightley himself had once praised him for his efforts.
Young Hill chuckled bitterly, Mr. Knightley would certainly never praise him ever again after this day.
Emma Woodhouse
He had always known her smile would someday ruin him.
He had admired it for far too long for it to not have, ever since he caught the first glimpse of her the day she and her sister removed to Donwell.
It was a memory that would forever be etched on his mind.
William had only been a lad of eleven then, living with his late mother, who worked at the kitchens; he had always enjoyed spending his time out with the horses at the stables but that particular day the whole Abbey had been so anxious in preparing for the arrival of the two Woodhouse girls and their governess, that even the stables were being cleaned out, so he and the other children were aloud to play around the grounds.
It was while he and his friend Thomas, one of the footmen's sons, were exploring by the lake when one of Hartfield's carriages had arrived.
William was naturally curious, as any other child would have been, so he had taken particular notice when Mr. Knightley and Master John, who had been waiting promptly, had step forward to help the three passengers down.
The first had been a lady in black, whom had bowed at them in greeting before another lady stepped down; the second was a younger girl who also wore a black dress, though in a much more elegant style than the first, and had blushed prettily at Master John when he offered her his arm.
But it was the last girl who had caught both his and Thomas's distinct attention, for the little blonde girl who had clung to Mr. Knightley as he helped her down must had been their age at the most!
They had always heard about the infamous younger Miss Emma Woodhouse whenever she visited Mr. Knightley at Donwell, but neither of them had actually seen her, and by talk of the stories they had always seemed to picture a much older girl.
After all, Mr. Knightley could not have possibly have had such a strong friendship with anyone younger, or so they had wrongly assumed!
She had been very small then, with skin so pale it contrasted against the dark ebony of her dress in a manner that seemed as if she glowed, and her hair was almost the color of straw, like in the stables where he loved to play, and she was so very pretty, William had never believed he would ever dare to find a girl pretty before then!
They had both continued watching her in surprise as the two gentlemen lead them away towards the Abbey.
She had been holding Mr. Knightley's hand when they caught her gaze, and from afar he could not tell what color her eyes were, though he knew they would be lovely, but he did however get to catch the brilliant smile she offered before turning away to speak with her guardian.
It was all it took for him to be mesmerized.
So everyday after that faithful afternoon, William had felt himself bewitched by her smile, and would go to great lengths just to catch the young mistress wearing it.
And now of course, it would very fitting indeed that he would eventually fall ruined because of it.
The young man couldn't help but clutch the top of his hair in a sudden act of aware desperation.
'My god what have I done!'
...….
An hour or so later, when Mr. Knightley had managed to be calm enough to trust himself not to do anything that he'd eventually regret, he set out towards the barns in hopes of finding that ungrateful, no good little—
"No" the dark haired man reminded himself with a small sigh, doing his best to control his temper from escalating to the levels he had been trying ever so hard to avoid " just like Emma, he too is merely young and reckless" he reminded himself, chastising his thoughts.
After all, George too had once been a young boy, he was not above sympathizing—and really, what man can claim to never have been heedless at least once in their life? Particularly when women, and this he also had learned from a young age, pretty women especially, had a way of drawing even the most foolish of behaviors from out of their masculine counterparts—no it wasn't that he couldn't understand young Mr. Hill's desires, it was that he couldn't forgive that the boy had ever even dared to act upon them!
And on his ward no less!
He felt his fists tighten a little more with each stride he took, just thinking about the incident bubbled his blood like no other, and no matter how hard he tried the gentleman just could not calm his ire.
He found him in the stables—where he should have never left in the first place! Mr Knightley could not help but think bitterly—sitting on a pile of hay, covering his face with his hands in what the older man assumed was an ashamed gesture.
Unfortunately for the young man, George was obviously not in the mood to take pity on him, or anyone for that matter.
"Stand up" he all but snarled.
William Hill snapped his head up in surprise, and upon seeing his master he jumped out of his makeshift seat and stood before him with his head bowed low.
The older man observed him silently, as if really looking at the boy for the first time.
He really couldn't have been much older than Emma, Mr. Knightley noted; taking in the young mans trembling person.
Although quite tall, young Hill still stood about a foot and a half shorter than his employer; he was not a lanky boy by far, sporting the rough presence that only one whom has spent many days riding and working on a field could develop.
A presence so different than the ones his ward had ever been accustomed to; after all what business would a gentleman's daughter could possibly want with a farm worker?
And for a brief second—so very brief in fact, that perhaps he hardly even realize he had done it—Geroge wonder to himself what it was that Emma had found pleasing about the boy in the first place.
Was she attracted to his strawberry blond waves, or had the deep green irises that wouldn't dare look up at him been what captivated her so?
They stood like this for what felt like an eternity, when perhaps in reality it couldn't have been less than half an incredibly tense minute, before one of them finally broke the silence.
"Sir, I am sor—
"No." Mr. Knightley cut him off; interrupting the boy's ridiculous notion of thinking he could merely offer a simple, pitiful apology.
William's frown deepened, but still he did not dare lift his head "Sir you have every right to punish me as severe—
"You will be quiet!" The master of Donwell snapped, incensed. He had not trusted himself to speak just yet, but it was hopeless, he could not be—would not be— calmed no matter how hard he tried.
"I pray I do not strike you" he confessed, words bathed in his ever-amounting anger " for if I do I will be tempted to never stop."
How could this boy stand before him and think that only a punishment would solve this matter, did he too not realize the severity of his actions?
Emma was a sheltered child, a girl who knew nothing of the ways of the world, but what excuse did this William Hill have?
"Sir!...I-I was momentarily lost, I…I never meant to—
"You do not…" Mr. Knightley cut him off once more, uncharacteristically gritting his teeth rather harshly "ever touch Miss Woodhouse. Of course you do not throw yourself at any innocent girl, but you especially do not touch Miss Woodhouse!"
"Yes sir—
"Silence!" The images of his ward under the boy taunted and persisted over and over in George's mind, Emma's giggles and her gasps, wouldn't—couldn't silence themselves, there they were permanently mocking him.
" How dare you? Have you no respect for this house? Have you no respect for me? I know you certainly have no respect for Miss Woodhouse!"
George kept his fists balled up at his sides; so intense was his effort to not throw himself at the young man that his tensed body visibly shook in constrained anger.
"Sir I do respect the abbey and all of its inhabitants, of course!" William defended, finally getting a word in edge wise, he also looked up at last, but only in an effort to convey his sincerity "I may have been tempted—however my loyalties will always stand with you and your home—but sir please you must understand!"
"Oh and what must I understand, exactly?" the older man scoffed indignantly.
"That I am a man, I ask you who else could not have done the same, sir!" the young man countered desperately as he begged of his superior.
"A gentleman!" was Mr. Knightley angry retort, clearly unimpressed with the boy's weak justification.
William laughed bitterly "stable boys have no chance at being gentlemen, last I heard"
"What nonsense!" George spat in response, growing impossibly angrier with the present confrontational demeanor the boy was now developing "furthermore, gentleman or not, she is but a girl!"
"She is a beautiful young woman!" Young William countered, now he too couldn't help but ball his own two fists at his sides.
He'd be dammed if he allowed himself to be alluded as the sole culprit in Miss Woodhouse's little game "You cannot expect a different reaction form any man—gentleman or not—when her manner towards me is so shamelessly wanton!"
That was enough. That was the most George Knightley was willing to ever allow!
Before he knew it he had grabbed the boy by his shirt vest and pulled him up to him roughly " She is infinitely above your notice" the dark-haired man spoke, through gritted teeth "And despite your reckless actions, do you possibly believe that you can offer her anything, now that you have been caught, hmm?" he asked.
Ignoring the abashed look in Williams's sad green eyes, Mr Knigtley didn't bother to wait for a reply.
"You could not, boy!" he finished with a hiss, before shoving him back down again.
The young man stumbled back in shock, tripping on his own feet and falling mercilessly on his haunches onto the straw covered grown.
"She is not ruined" he spat back, clumping up the straw and dirt before him onto his fist in anger and frustration. William knew that the more he spoke the more he'd damn himself, but he could not back down now "…well at least not by me."
George clenched his jaw, enraged he once more grabbed the boy and pulled him up to his feet only to knock him back down again by connecting his strong fist to the young man's face.
Mr. Knightley initially had not wanted to strike him at all, but it was hopeless now.
"You will watch your words!" he warned, watching as the boy was knocked down to the ground once more.
William held his hand up to his face and dabbed the small bit of blood that appeared at the right corner of his mouth, he inspected the wet fingers while licking the wound in his lips with an angry frown.
So this was Master Knightley's true temper, he inwardly scorned, 'gentleman indeed'
"You are within your rights sir, it is true that I am nothing but a worthless stable boy, but you too must open your eyes to Miss Woodhouse!"
"That is no concern of yours—
"It was she who came looking for me" the young man reminded his superior, acidly "I do not go inside the manor, I have no need to, but she herself lead me straight to her chamber—it was she who wanted to call attention to herself!"
"You dared—
"It was I who has been used and discarded, do not you forget it sir!" This time it was William who would not allow George to speak, he'd be heard even if it were the last thing he'd do.
"It was my heart Miss Woodhouse toyed with—not the other way around—all so you could stop treating her like the fragile doll you seem to think her to be!" he reasoned, the distress evident in his voice.
The boy's anguish could not go unnoticed by Mr. Knightley, not matter how much he wished he could be ignorant to it.
Looking down at the shallow breathed and bleeding youth before him, the older man found himself ever slowly relaxing his tense posture. This was exactly the reason why he did not want to escalate his anger any more than necessary in the first place.
This really was after all just a boy.
And although his heart could not be calmed, and his indignation could not be curved—in fact his very body and soul could not rest until he found some semblance of control in this nightmare of a complication—George forced himself to find any small restrain he could muster.
There before him was a lad of no more than nine and ten, he was sure. And though the boy was perfectly capable of comprehending right from wrong, Mr. Knightley could not feign that he himself indeed was also blindsided to Emma's charms!
If he, a man with thirty-one years of life's exposure on his back, could easily be taken in by the wiles of his much younger ward, then how could he expect any better from the boy before him?
He surveyed as the young man wiped his swollen eyes with his sleeve in an effort to hide the tears that threatened to fall as he continued to tremble with what Mr. knightly could imagine were all sorts of emotions.
George let out a long and very weary sigh.
"You will tell not a soul about this" he commanded, removing his gaze away from the boy "I will make it my personal obligation that you find the proper position elsewhere as far away from here as possible, and you will be paid handsomely for your secrecy."
"I-I am to be sent away?" William asked rushing to pull himself to his feet, his frown deepening "No, sir please! I promise not to—
"I have been kind" Mr. Knightley responded coldly, his own dark blue eyes not once looking back to meet the boy's emerald ones.
"Sir I beg of you!" The young man cried, now throwing himself at his master's feet "this is the only home I know!"
Forcibly removing himself from the boy's despairing hold, the older man turned away, still not once sparing him a single glance— for how could he?
"You will be expected to be ready for your removal tomorrow." He muttered, as slow calm steps carried his voice farther away still.
When William Hill finally looked up from the ground he kept wishing would just swallow him whole, Mr. Knightley had long gone.
There was nothing to keep his wretched sobs from leaving his body now.
He had fallowed her lovely smile, no matter where it went, and he knew she didn't love him nor would ever love him, but he had let himself be captivated by her charm nonetheless.
'Emma Woodhouse!' he cursed from within his very being, banging his fists down on the filthy stable floor 'I should of known you would be the end of me!'
...
A/N: Shame on you Emma, making our poor Mr. Knightley act so out of character!
I just want to thank the three very lovely people who review the last chapter, it meant so much to hear from you…it really is inspiring to read what others have to say about your work :D
With that said, I hope you found this chapter to your liking as well, more to come soon!