Notes and Trivia: This is the first of two chapters uploaded on June 1st. Regent's Park and the London Zoo did not open to the public until decades after the time of this story, so I've taken liberty with dates. Ranelagh's (or Ranelagh Gardens) was a fashionable public garden in Chelsea. At the time, it was a place to "see and be seen."
As always, thank you in advance if you have time to review.
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Chapter 3: Of Giraffes, Devils and Other Fantastic Creatures
The next day, Mr. Knightley fulfilled his promise to Emma and their two older nephews to take them to the zoological gardens in Regent's Park. Henry and John were having a delightful time at the zoo, running from cage to pen and back again to examine the unusual creatures first hand. It seemed that their Aunt Emma was nearly as wide-eyed as they were, since she, too, had never seen a zebra or an elephant, or any of the zoo's other animal treasurers, except in sketches in the pages of books. When the four visitors came upon the pen housing the zoo's giraffes, Emma studied them for a long time and then said, very seriously, "Mr. Knightley, these giraffes do not have hazel eyes. None of them does."
"Of course they don't. Why would you think …" Mr. Knightley stopped midsentence and stared at her for a moment. He then put his hand to his mouth and turned away from her. He was clearly trying to stifle a laugh, but Emma could see his shoulders shake with amusement just a bit.
A boy standing nearby said, "Mummy, that lady thinks that giraffes are supposed to have hazel eyes! Isn't that funny?" "Hush, Samuel!" was his mother's response, and she hurried away with her son.
Mr. Knightley turned back to Emma, and said, "Dear Emma, please don't tell me that for all these years you have thought …" He could not finish his sentence because he began to laugh again. "That … is… just … precious …"
"Aunt Emma," asked little John, "why is Uncle George laughing so?"
"It is nothing, John. Why don't you go over to where Henry is, to see the monkeys? Look at that one over there – isn't it a funny one? John, go quickly," she said, giving him a gentle push, and her nephew obediently over ran to his older brother.
Emma turned back to Mr. Knightley, her face flush with embarrassment. "Fine, Mr. Knightley, just fine. There I was, a little girl of no more than Henry's age, I think. And my dear friend, Mr. Knightley, who was so kind to give me a wood carving of a giraffe, told me that giraffes would always remind him of me – and might you have any recollection why?"
"I just might," laughed Mr. Knightley, "I believe I said it was because they have long legs and long eyelashes and … and big hazel eyes!"
"Precisely," she said curtly. "Hazel eyes. And how was I, who was only an innocent little girl at the time, and who had always thought so highly of my fine gentleman friend, Mr. Knightley, a man of such integrity and honor - how was I supposed to know that he was simply making fun of me? Hmph! Yes, I believed you, and yes, I have done so for all these years. How positively silly of me!" She crossed her arms and frowned at him, unsuccessfully trying to muster an expression of outrage.
"Oh, Emma…" Mr. Knightley began to laugh again, "if only you could see the look on your face right now…"
"Well, I feel like a complete fool, thanks to you." She watched him laugh without restraint, and though she wanted to be cross with him, as she gazed again at the giraffes, she thought how ridiculous they would look with anything other than their big black eyes. She could not help herself – his laughter was contagious and she, too, began to laugh at the absurdity of the idea.
"Stop laughing! Stop laughing at once," she said between giggles. "I should be angry with you, not laughing with you at … at myself!"
"Dear Emma, how you do amuse me in the most unexpected ways. Don't be angry with me," he said, finally catching his breath. "How lucky the giraffes would be if they did have eyes like yours …"
"Uncle George! Aunt Emma! Come look at the monkeys!" their nephews implored in unison from down the path.
"Well, will you forgive me?" he asked sincerely. Emma wiped away a tear of laughter and nodded her assent. "Good," he said. "What do you say, then – shall we join our nephews?" Mr. Knightley offered Emma his arm and they turned down the lane to where their nephews were comically mimicking the monkeys. Still smiling broadly, Mr. Knightley said playfully, "Look at that little monkey up there, the one at the top, Emma. Is it possible that it has … hazel eyes?"
"Ha! You are so very clever, Mr. Knightley." Then with her own sense of mischievousness, she added, "I shall have to find a creature in the zoo that reminds me of you. Let's see, do you suppose that they have a … a hippopotamus?"
"A hippopotamus? Nonsense! I was thinking perhaps a lion – you know, the king of the jungle."
"No, no. That is not at all what I had in mind. Hmm - how about a Tasmanian Devil? I have no idea what they look like, but the name certainly seems apropos!" She giggled, then continued, "Now, as penance for your indiscretion against your poor unsuspecting young victim, namely — myself — I hereby decree that you must take the boys and me to tea outdoors at Ranelagh Gardens this afternoon. Do you accept your punishment?"
"Most definitely, yes," he laughed in reply. "Right after we find that Tasmanian Devil of yours. Do you suppose he'll be a handsome creature?"
"I wouldn't count on it, Mr. Knightley," she replied in a mockingly haughty tone, before breaking into a smile.
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It was a beautiful late summer afternoon at the outdoor café at Ranelagh's. Emma marveled at the extent of the gardens, though her two young nephews, already exercised from their outing at the zoo, were less enthusiastic about conducting a tour. However, the prospect of tea with two lumps of sugar (as Isabella always limited them to just one) and lemon biscuits encouraged them to continue to be on their best behavior. Besides, little John, who was quite tired by now, was delighted when his uncle swept him up and onto his broad shoulders.
After a brisk trip through part of the gardens, Mr. Knightley arranged for a perfect table for them at the café, under the cool shade of a willow tree and far enough away from the outdoor orchestra that they could talk easily and relax as they waited for their tea and biscuits. The boys recounted their fantastic animal sightings, with Mr. Knightley and Emma listening attentively with humored interest, particularly when six-year-old John tried to say "hippopotamus." After he tried "hippamatalus" and "hippapamus" and a few other annihilations of the word, Mr. Knightley set him as ease: "That's alright, John. I can't say it either. We can just say, 'hippo!'"
It might surprise their family to see that as between the two adults, Emma was clearly the disciplinarian. "Henry, please keep your napkin in your vest." "John, please sit up straight and stop swinging your legs." "No more sugar in your tea, boys." "Elbows off the table, please, Henry." Her instructions were always given softly and with the utmost patience and kindness, however, and her nephews adored her, so they quickly followed her every request.
Little John hadn't eaten but two bites of his first biscuit when he said quietly, "Aunt Emma, I think I'm sleepy."
"Oh, course you are, my darling. I'm afraid that your uncle and I have made you miss your nap today. We'll be going home soon, though."
"Would it be alright if I didn't finish my biscuit? May I take it home?"
"Yes, you may, John." Emma hadn't finished her sentence when Mr. Knightley produced his handkerchief, which she accepted gratefully and used to carefully wrap up John's biscuits. Henry then lightly poked Emma's elbow, and when she looked at him inquisitively, he motioned his head towards his younger brother, whose little head was resting on the table. He was fast asleep! She stifled a laugh but smiled broadly, then whispered, "How lucky he is to be able to sleep so easily, but Mr. Knightley, I fear he just might fall over!"
"Not to worry, Emma. I'll take care of him." Mr. Knightley rose and gathered up his little nephew gently, and as he perched the boy on his shoulder, John, in his sleep, instinctively wrapped his arms around his uncle's neck and his legs around the man's waist. Mr. Knightley sat back down and continued his tea as though nothing was amiss.
"You do that so well, Mr. Knightley," Emma giggled. "One might think you've had a great deal of experience!" They finished their tea and biscuits, Mr. Knightley settled the bill, and they rose to leave, John still draped comically on Mr. Knightley's shoulder, and Emma having taken Henry's hand. As they walked past a table nearby, an elegantly dressed older woman smiled at them and said, "Allow me to commend you - your boys are very well-behaved."
"They are, indeed, well behaved, but we cannot take credit for it," said Mr. Knightley. "We must commend their parents for that. The boys are our nephews, you see."
"Well, then, allow me to say that the two of you are lucky to have such nicely-mannered nephews. I might have considered bringing my own children or grandchildren to Ranelagh's when they were that age, had I ever expected them to behave thusly!" she laughed.
Mr. Knightley and Emma exchanged grins that indicated that they agreed with the fine lady, then politely thanked her and bid her adieu. And by the time their carriage was half way back to Brunswick Square, it was all Mr. Knightley could do to keep from laughing anew. Across from him sat Emma, with John curled up and in a deep sleep on her right side, with his head in her lap, and with Henry leaning on her left shoulder, also sleeping. Emma didn't mind, as she didn't even notice: she, herself, was fast asleep, her head leaning gently on Henry's, as the rhythm of the carriage's ride rocked them soothingly after a long day's adventure.
