"Emma"
The sixteen year old not so proud—well at least at the very moment—owner of the name being called, borrowed deeper into her fine rosewood wardrobe as her small delicate hands pressed one of her thick winter coats closer against her face in a shameless effort to hide herself.
"Emma!"
Teeth bit into quaking cardinal lips as the dreaded voice neared her chamber door, and as her eyes closed in supplication, the blonde girl stifled a desperate moan, hoping with all her might that one look around the seemingly empty room would be enough to fool her pursuer.
"Emma Woodhouse, do you not hear me calling?" her governess' complaint was now clear as day—a fine indication of her arrival—as it was heavily emphasized by the sound of doors bursting open with more force than the young girl had ever heard her make.
"…Emma?"
This time the guilty party ran the risk of suffocation lest she allowed the sudden urge to giggle at the sound of Miss Taylor's bemusement, give away the perimeter of her almost flawless self-made alcove of protection.
Almost.
Before Emma even had time to clutch yet another coat to better cover her person, the doors to her armoire were ripped open to reveal the exasperated face of one quite un-amused dark haired governess.
The girl's nervous laugh did nothing to dissipate the anger from the chestnut colored orbs looking down pointedly at her.
"My dear, must you always keep insisting to hide in the very same place each time?" the older woman questioned flatly.
Her pupil's hopeful demeanor crumbled as thin shoulder's drooped in defeat, today would not be a day she could easily worm her way out of her dear Miss Taylor's rare show of vexation, this she could already tell.
Another nervous laugh, "Here I am, Miss Taylor" the blonde finally replied trying to smile nonetheless—anything was worth the shot at this point after all—"Is something the matter?"
"Oh Emma, you know exactly what the matter is!" her governess panted "I have been told of-of what has transpired here in this very room—and I must say shock is nearly not enough to express what I am feeling!"
The blonde haired girl inhaled softly, of course Mr. Knightley would have disclosed to Miss Taylor the details of her shameful behavior with William, she reasoned with a pout.
'Now I shall never live it down for the rest of my natural life' she found herself inwardly lamenting.
At the continued look of thinly veiled horror coated in perplexity from the older woman, Emma finally lowered her brilliant eyes in shame.
"You have been told…"
"Of course I have been told, Emma!" Miss Taylor's voice sounded about ready to tremble with despair "and we must forever be obliged to Mr. Knightley for intervening when he did—Oh my Emma, what ever were you thinking!"
"I cannot say that I was thinking" the young girl admitted, turning away from her dearest of confidants, even as an already forgiving hand extended towards her in the hopes of coasting her out of the poorly chosen hiding place "h-how could I have?"
Noting the pitiful tone in the other's voice, there was a short pause, before Miss Taylor heaved a small sigh.
"You cannot stay in here forever, my love" the governess reasoned, attempting to take hold of her pupil's hand once more.
"We can't possibly know that unless I try"
However the older woman's will was much greater than her own, and before she knew it Emma was assisted in climbing out of the makeshift wooden fortress not a minute later.
Miss Taylor petted her cheeks with both her hands, and though her pupil's gaze was still averted, she was able to tell from the puffiness of her eyes that hiding was not all that was done inside the wardrobe.
"My dear child, why did you not come to me?" she asked, taking a step closer to the girl in an effort to convey her truest sincerity "we could have spoken of it and addressed your frustrations, I myself would have proposed your wishes to Mr. Knightly"
"It cannot be said that I have not!" Emma complained, pulling away from the older woman before turning her back to her in indignation, more tears welling in her eyes.
"How long have I expressed a want to be treated in accordance to my age, Miss Taylor—nobody has listened until now!"
Tears of her own trailed down the young governess' eyes, she wouldn't even dare pretend that her charge's pain did not affect her, this was after all the little girl she had taken under her wing and raised from the age of four, and though she knew she could never presume Emma to see her as such a figure, Miss Taylor could not help the maternal love she felt for the girl swelling inside her heart.
It was such a strong everlasting kind of emotion, that even Emma herself could feel it radiating from the woman despite her efforts in pushing her away.
Therefore the young girl couldn't help but allow her reliable Miss Taylor's arms to pull her back around as warm and assuring hands enclosed over her own cold and shaky ones.
"I too have been unfair to you, my precious girl, I did not want to cause poor Mr. Knightley any further inconvenience, of that I am guilty" The governess revealed sorrowfully, before allowing her dark eyebrows to fall in disappointment "but this was not the way to do it, this was very dangerous indeed!"
"I was drowning in desperation!"
Well, the exasperation in her charge's voice was certainly abundantly clear.
"So desperate you are to outgrow us?" a watery laugh attempted to mask Miss Taylor's sob, she was now clutching her beloved student to her chest in a desperate embrace.
"Cannot you see for yourself that it is not easy to watch our little Emma grow more and more each day?" she admitted.
She could understand the young girl's frustrations, but she too favored her guardian's sentiments.
It was not easy to see such a sweet, happy, and playful child who's dependency you have come to expect and cherish, slowly outgrow such sentiments, until one fateful day all that would be left of such a wonderful relationship would be nothing but fond memories to recall for pleasant comfort in old age.
Emma's blunder was truly inexcusable and selfish, but to say that both her and Mr. Knightley's love and expectation for her had not become quite selfish as well would be just as unsound.
This, Anne Taylor forced herself to realize as she continued to soothe the crying youth in her arms, was something that needed great consideration after all.
Quick steps were suddenly heard, fallowed by a surprised gasp as a chambermaid dropped the linens she carried, seconds before crossing the doorway.
The governess wasted no time in waving her away gently.
The quick-witted maid nodded in understanding and within seconds cleared the floor of the mess before leaving them to their privacy once more as she soundlessly shut the doors behind her.
Anne sighed softly, silently chastising herself for leaving those wretched doors open in the first place.
"I am sorry to make you cry, Miss Taylor" Emma's voice was soft as it croaked from around the older woman's shoulder, promptly garnering her full attention back to the girl in her arms "if I have really given you pain, then I know I cannot forgive myself"
A small chuckle was heard from the governess "you silly little thing…" she sniffed, sighing once more "growth cannot occur where forgiveness is not planted"
And very soon after the two were sobbing once more, both in comfort and pain, while Emma borrowed deeper into her motherly embrace.
It was for the first time since the incident that the youngest Woodhouse was able to really cry with the full guilt of that which she had done.
It was not that she did not mean her tears then when Mr. Knightley had discovered her, she had been ashamed from the very beginning, but there was just something about the gentle Miss Taylor that always brought out the better part of her.
Perhaps it was her honest kindness, or her relentless care—maybe it was just her unwavering support for her no matter what—but what Emma was very sure of was that she owed her governess much more than she truly deserved.
Realizing now that today she could have very easily lost the comfort of these warm arms around her, made her cry even harder.
That she could have lost the support of her family, that she could have tarnished all of their illustrious reputation without a care in the world, made her want to lock herself up in her rooms to never again emerge.
"You may cry to your heart's content tonight" Miss Taylor assured her, ignoring her own blotchy tear stained face "come tomorrow however, you must be the young lady you so claim to be, and this guilt and pain, you must turn it into a lesson you can overcome"
Emma nodded her understanding, vowing to take those words to heart, but for now she would allow herself to cry.
It was not a pleasant scene, nor was it a heartwarming one, but it was a kind of bitter sweetness that was necessary if any semblance of normality would ever hope to be recovered between them after this nightmare of a day would be over.
And for the first time in a very long while, the young woman who wished so feverishly to be regarded as all grown up, wanted nothing more than to be small enough to hide behind the protection of those understanding arms for just a little longer.
Even when Anne lead her towards the bed to sit, Emma still would not let go, almost as if she were afraid that the older woman would disappear the second she did.
Her governess saw no other option but to oblige and sat besides her, adjusting and helping the distraught girl who had then chosen to lie down with her blonde head in the older lady's lap.
Emma happily welcomed the soft fingers that came down to stroke through her hair soothingly.
Just like when she was a little girl.
"Miss Taylor…"
"Hmm?"
"Will I ever be forgiven?"
Her voice was still soft, and if the dark haired woman hadn't known any better she would have thought that the always self-assuring and confident Emma Woodhouse sounded almost…afraid.
"Dear girl, I have already forgiven you"
"I know that I do not deserve it" her charge expressed, closing her watery eyes and easing her pretty features into a look of serenity "but I cannot lie, it is so very alleviating to hear you say it"
"I know"
"Will Mr. Knightley ever come to forgive me as well?"
Miss Taylor aloud the breath she had held at hearing the question, fall steadily.
She knew that when it came to the blonde girl who was still snuggling in her lap, anything she would do would receive her willing forgiveness almost instantly, even to her better knowledge, the governess was forced to accept that the soft spot she had always held for the youngest Woodhouse sister would forever remain so.
Her employer however, treasure Emma as much as she knew he did, would certainly not be so easy to win over this time around.
The image of his bewildered and hurt eyes when she saw them just that afternoon was still very much engraved in her memory.
As if his ward's utterly unbecoming actions positively hunted him, and would continue to do so for quite some time.
Unforgiving, Anne Taylor knew he was not, but she had a feeling Mr. Knightley would not soon forget this day for a very long time.
"…Miss Taylor?"
"I think" The governess finally responded, looking down to meet the deep and inquisitive eyes watching her closely "that you must work very hard from now on to prove yourself to him, to show him that you have not taken for granted all that he has done for you, and that this silly tantrum will never become you again…and with time you will cure him of this pain"
Emma's eyes grew wetter once more, and she bit her lip.
"I believe he too has already forgiven you, but you must wait for Mr. Knightley to come to terms on his own accord, you must have given him quite the fright today—it will be your turn now to be the patient and comprehensive party"
"I suppose that's fair"
'You suppose?' Miss Taylor bit the inside of her cheek as to not show her amusement, leave it to her pupil to retain that which made her so very Emma, even at a time such as this.
"Come, let us get you ready for dinner, the least we want is to make Mr. Knightley any more cross by making him wait longer than he should this evening" she replied instead, attempting to lift her troublemaker up from the comfortable position she would not relent, much to no avail.
The table would be ready in less than forty minutes and neither herself nor Emma had prepared.
"Go now, off to Sophie!"
"Must I?" the blonde complained, finally sitting up so that her governess could stand
"You know Miss Taylor, I had a very large luncheon just a few hours ago, perhaps it would suit me to do without dinner?"
"You cannot hope to assume avoidance can go on forever" Miss Taylor chuckled "better to get it over with as soon as is possible"
"But Mr. Knightley—
"Would never begrudge you sustenance" with a pointed look, the un-amused governess gestured to the doors "there is a handsome dress waiting for you, Miss Woodhouse, do give it the justice it deserves"
"Oh very well" Emma finally acquiesced with a petulant pout "but only because one must look their best, even when forced to meet their doom" she grumbled, curtsying briefly as she all but stomped away, leaving a huffing Anne Taylor in her wake.
The dark haired woman shook her head with another melodic chuckle as she straightened the delicate fabric of her own dress.
'Emma Woodhouse, indeed!'
...
Donwell, although very large with its extensive wings and numerous rooms, did not harbor pin quiet halls.
Naturally there were more solitary areas than lively ones, but as Emma descended the grand main staircase into the main room of which passage led straight to the formal dining area, she could not help but notice that the general atmosphere in the air was rather much more hushed than usual.
Even sweet and talkative Sophie did not speak more than five words while helping her into her evening dress a little while ago.
Believing it perhaps might have been due to a personal matter, the young mistress had not pried and instead allowed her to work in comfortable quietude, but now that she walked past yet another somber footman, Emma could not help but wish she had asked her usually lively attendant if anything was the matter after all.
"Ah good, you're ready" Miss Taylor greeted once the puzzled girl had reached her destination.
She ignored her governess' hands as they came up to adjust the trimmings of her dress and arrange the cascading blonde curls over her shoulder "Does it not feel a bit strange to you?" she focused on asking instead.
"Strange?" the dark haired woman questioned lightly, offering her elbow so that her charge could lead them into the dining hall.
Emma obliged her and took a step forward "The atmosphere—I can't help but feel unsettled"
"It must be the storm raging in your heart" Miss Taylor reasoned, bringing her left hand to pat the younger girl in assurance "all is well, do not fret."
Emma wanted to protest, she knew that whatever it was, it was beyond that of her own feelings, but they were approaching the table now, so she bit her tongue in resignation instead.
For all her worries about how she would be able to face Mr. Knightley after all that had happened, the Woodhouse girl was rather surprised and quite relieved to find her guardian's seat completely empty.
"Oh?" she heard Miss Taylor wonder out loud "it seems we will be dining on our own after all"
Emma nodded, fixing her gaze on her plate.
The place at the head of the table was left completely bare, not a utensil in sight, and suddenly she couldn't help the guilt tightening in her chest.
Was Mr. Knightley truly so angry and disappointed that he would rather forgo eating than see her wretched face?
"Master has asked me to beg forgiveness in his place, there was a matter that needed his attention and therefore he is not able to attend this evening's meal" The head footman in charge of overseeing all matters of the table, announced as he filled Emma's goblet with water.
The governess nodded from across her, and Emma could not help but notice the almost imperceptible glance the older woman gave her before looking away just as quickly.
"Very well" Miss Taylor smiled "Let us say grace quickly then, my dear, for though it is a shame that Mr. Knightley is not present, I can already see cook has outdone herself"
Emma nodded and brought her hands together absentmindedly; she hardly recalled her short prayer however, due to the strange sense of forbearance that she could not help but feel overcome her.
Much of dinner was spent as such, and as the hour came to an end, the young lady had hardly touched anything in her plate, despite of the grand selection that customarily graced Donwell's table, and though her appetite was usually very good, Mr. Knightley's ward had become so preoccupied with his absence and what it entailed that she could think of little else.
And before Miss Taylor was given the chance to protest her lack of nourishment, her pupil had suddenly risen from her seat and excused herself with all the grace befitting her station.
The governess would have protested with more effort had it not been for the sickly look to her poor Emma's complexion and the uncharacteristic weary stare of her eyes.
"Very well, go then and rest"
Emma's curtsy was swift, and at the blink of an eye she was already crossing the threshold.
Her steps were quick and determined, her pace as rushed as the rapid drumming heart threatening to burst from its enclosure deep inside her chest.
And then her legs stopped, coming to a sudden halt only after approaching a very large and familiar handsome door.
Taking a deep breath, the girl lifted a pale hand to knock upon it several times.
No answer.
Looking around her and finding no prying eyes to chastise her, Emma grasped the intricate metal handle before pulling it open ever so slowly.
"Mr. Knightley?" she called with a deathly silent whisper.
Her effort was rewarded with yet another absence of answer.
Nodding with determination for a boost of courage, the pale hand grasping the handle pushed forward, allowing its owner a clear view of the inside of the room.
Just as she had thought, it was empty.
Emma promptly stepped into the chamber and used the weight of her body to shut the door behind her, allowing her eyes to observe the spacious area in its entirety.
The blonde scrunched her nose.
It was still very masculine and rather boring, just as it had always been.
Taking a few more steps she neared the grand mahogany desk by the center, though very neat indeed, there were a few letters and parchments recklessly left scattered on it's surface, and for a brief moment Emma contemplated reading them.
Just a very brief moment though!
For she was on a mission, and there was little to no time to waste, and honestly she was willing to wager that half of it was from John and the other half had to do with whatever it was that magistrates had to worry about, anyway.
Reaching inside her dress, she pulled out a small folded letter, addressed to the owner of the study, and placed it on top of the miniscule pile of papers.
It was Emma's intention to hand it to Mr. Knightley personally, after dinner, but now she was left no other choice.
But perhaps this was for the better after all, she reasoned, for the ward had no idea how she could have faced her guardian before saying all that she wished to say, clarify all that she hoped to clarify, and apologize in a most sincere and befitting way.
None of the words she would have wanted to say would have ever been expressed in person with the same strength of intension, or at least in a way in which it would have given them justice.
No, in paper she could be as honest and as remorseful as she truly felt, without letting pride get in the way.
She only hoped that Mr. Knightley would even bother to read it, not that she'd begrudge him if he chose not to.
Though knowing him, he would certainly be happy she even took the time to write anything at all, what with all the ways the gentleman endlessly berated her about her studies, or lack there of.
Yes, Emma grinned, this method would work out swimmingly!
Patting her beloved letter with one last look to the desk before heading out, the girl still could not help but find herself slowly frowning.
With a roll of her eyes she turned her attention back to the slight mess, and ever so discretely, set about organizing it into a much neater pile, making sure that her own letter was still sitting promptly at the very top.
Nodding to herself in satisfaction, the blonde turned around once more and headed straight for the door.
Thin light eyebrows twitched suddenly, and then she stopped in her tracks again.
Biting her blossom lips thoughtfully, she ran back to the desk, quickly making use of the quilted pen already resting on the gold inkpot at the right hand side of it, hastily she opened the first drawer to find paper, any paper, but was unsuccessful, and with a huff was forced to grab her letter once again.
Swiftly flipping it around, she dipped the quilt and with little thought scribbled some short words on the blank expanse of space available.
Finally completely and utterly triumphant, Emma Woodhouse ignored the heat in her cheeks as she returned the pen back in its place.
She walked back to the door, yet again, and this time she opened it ever so slightly to peer outside, content at seeing still not a single soul around, she stepped out into the corridor and closed it behind her once more.
Humming to herself softly, she headed with an air of merriment towards the end of the hall, wondering briefly if it were possible to charm cook into preparing her a quick supper without alerting Miss Taylor.
Inside the somewhat abandoned study—well for the night at least—atop the now very neat desk sat the elegantly written note patiently waiting for its owner.
This most unworthy Emma hates it very much when Mr. Knightley misses dinner
...
A/N: For whoever might still want to remeber this story. I know it's been a while but even though I have mapped out and know exactly where this story will go, I had lost my muse for writing and did not dare to even post single word until I got it back. It wouldn't have been fair to myself and to the readers, you guys deserve better than half-assed work. still a little rusty though, but hope you enjoyed it :)
