First Argument - The During
note - dialogue was taken heavily from Emma, chap. 8 - Jane said it better than I ever could.
EMMA
The proposal of Robert Martin to Harriet Smith had been unwelcome. Now it was over. No protracted harm done. Emma didn't have any desire to dwell on the situation and Mr. Knightley served a welcome distraction. He'd not been over since the day they first viewed the painting and that had been three days back. She smiled as her father and Mr. Knightley exchange opinions about the benefit of walking. Emma tried not to be impatient with her Father but Mr. Knightley had a particular look in his eye that said he had something particular to tell her. She refocused on the knitting in her lap but found her eyes constantly drawn back to the gentleman in front of her. Finally her father was off and although Mr. Knightley has said he would not stay long he sat and started to chat. His subject surprised Emma more than his actions. He spoke of Harriet.
"I cannot rate her beauty as you do," said he; "but she is a pretty little creature, and I am inclined to think very well of her disposition. Her character depends upon those she is with; but in good hands she will turn out a valuable woman."
Emma set down her knitting and leaned forward to meet his even, blue gaze. "I am glad you think so; and the good hands, I hope, may not be wanting."
He had a teasing light in his eye. "Come, you are anxious for a compliment, so I will tell you that you have improved her. You have cured her of her school-girl's giggle; she really does you credit."
It was not a reluctant compliment and was given with a brilliant smile.
Emma nodded in gratitude. "Thank you. I should be mortified indeed if I did not believe I had been of some use; but it is not every body who will bestow praise where they may. You do not often overpower me with it."
"You are expecting her again, you say, this morning?"
She stood and moved to the door of the back parlor, looking into the front hall as if this would bring her friend. "Almost every moment. She has been gone longer already than she intended."
"Something has happened to delay her; some visitors perhaps."
Emma had been thinking the same thing. Not that it mattered that Harriet was delayed. She was enjoying being with Mr. Knightley and made her way to sit closer to him. "Highbury gossips!—Tiresome wretches!"
"Harriet may not consider every body tiresome that you would."
It was the look in his eye, part schoolboy mischief and part self satisfaction that gave Emma pause. He knew something she didn't. Emma knew that his statement was too true for contradiction, and therefore said nothing. She sat then and refused to inquire about his secret knowledge as he would expect her too.
He settled back in his chair and crossed his arms over his broad chest and presently added, with a smile, "I do not pretend to fix on times or places, but I must tell you that I have good reason to believe your little friend will soon hear of something to her advantage."
Emma was piqued now. Another proposal so soon after the one from Mr. Martin would shock the poor girls system. But it would also cure her blues."Indeed! how so? of what sort?"
"A very serious sort, I assure you." He was still smiling, an infuriating smile that he wore when he felt he had the upper hand in their conversation. Everything was a competition when it came to him.
"Very serious! I can think of but one thing—Who is in love with her? Who makes you their confidant?"
Emma was more than half in hopes of Mr. Elton's having dropped a hint. Mr. Knightley was a sort of general friend and adviser, and she knew Mr. Elton looked up to him.
"I have reason to think," he replied, "that Harriet Smith will soon have an offer of marriage, and from a most unexceptionable quarter:—Robert Martin is the man. Her visit to Abbey-Mill, this summer, seems to have done his business. He is desperately in love and means to marry her."
Her heart almost sank. Not Mr. Elton.
Her heart rose. She had a chance to wipe the smugness off Mr. Knightley's face. He seemed much too keen to rid her of her friend.
"He is very obliging but is he sure that Harriet means to marry him?"
GEORGE
The transformation was subtle but George felt the tables being turned on him. He quickly related the conversation that he and Robert Martin had shared. Emma, sitting on the sofa by his chair listened attentively but he saw she was not intrigued or even surprised. This set a spark of annoyance through him.
Emma, who had been smiling to herself through a great part of this speech, spoke with a haughtiness that was distasteful to him."Pray, Mr. Knightley how do you know that Mr. Martin did not speak yesterday?"
He felt a frown creased his forehead. Where are you going with this Emma? "Certainly, I do not absolutely know it; but it may be inferred. Was not she the whole day with you?"
Emma leaned forward, smiling even more. He was certain their faces had exchanged expressions from what they were a moment ago. "Come, I will tell you something, in return for what you have told me. He did speak yesterday—that is, he wrote, and was refused."
He froze. "Pardon?"
"He wrote yesterday and was refused."
Now he stood, feeling his face grow warm with the indignation inside, and nearly swore. Except he could not speak so in Emma's presence. "Then she is a greater simpleton than I ever believed her. What is the foolish girl about?"
Emma stood along with him. Though she came only to his shoulder the annoyance in her face and voice made up the deficit in height. "Oh! to be sure, it is always incomprehensible to a man that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage. A man always imagines a woman to be ready for anybody who asks her."
That was not what he meant. She knew it. He knew she did. He drew his hand over his face, refusing to keep his frustration inside. "Nonsense! a man does not imagine any such thing. But what is the meaning of this? Harriet Smith refuse Robert Martin? madness, if it is so; but I hope you are mistaken."
"I saw her answer, nothing could be clearer."
That was when everything fell to bits and pieces. It took considerable will not to release the fury that bunched inside at the smug conceit marring Emma's flawless features.
He took a step so he stood over her. His voice snapped like a riding crop. "You saw her answer! you wrote her answer too. Emma, this is your doing. You persuaded her to refuse him."
Emma didn't shrink from him But then he had not wanted that. "And if I did, (which, however, I am far from allowing,) I should not feel that I had done wrong. Mr. Martin is a very respectable young man, but I cannot admit him to be Harriet's equal; and am rather surprised indeed that he should have ventured to address her. By your account, he does seem to have had some scruples. It is a pity that they were ever got over."
While she spoke the look of conceit set like cement on her face. It was a look that seemed determined to take up residence there. That riled him. It was not a good look for his dear old friend. The anger made him shout. That sacred the look off her face briefly but it returned soon enough. He would have to change tactics.
"No, he is not her equal indeed, for he is as much her superior in sense as in situation. Emma, your infatuation about that girl blinds you…"
He kept trying to reason with her but she was not listening. He spoke more, louder, faster, as if by the sheer number of his words he could make her see what she was doing. She was holding onto something that had served it's purpose. Holding on anymore would surely harm her and Miss Smith.
Back and forth they went. He said was a good idea. She insisted, insisted it was not. Until, resisting the urge to shake her shoulders, finally he exclaimed. "Upon my word, Emma, to hear you abusing the reason you have, is almost enough to make me think so too. Better be without sense, than misapply it as you do!"
Her face, having held a war between that poisonous conceit and a innocent confusion all through their discussion, settled into a comfortable look of playfulness. George released the breath he had not known he was holding. It caught again when she spoke.
"To be sure!" cried she playfully. "I know that is the feeling of you all. I know that such a girl as Harriet is exactly what every man delights in—what at once bewitches his senses and satisfies his judgment. Oh! Harriet may pick and choose. Were you, yourself, ever to marry, she is the very woman for you. And is she, at seventeen, just entering into life, just beginning to be known, to be wondered at because she does not accept the first offer she receives? No—pray let her have time to look about her."
He wanted to growl at the wound she inflicted his manly pride. He knew it would come to this. Everything was reduced to the outside. Miss Smiths natural shallowness was robbing Emma of her depth. The conclusion was that everything would revolve around vanity. And that road led to nowhere. He said as much, starting off coolly but rising in tone and volume as he went. After a while Emma, looking disconcerted, cut him off.
"We think so very differently on this point, Mr. Knightley, that there can be no use in canvassing it. We shall only be making each other more angry…"
He would have agreed with her then and there and dropped the subject. Only she kept spouting more errant nonsense until he cut her off with his harshest words yet, insulting both both Emma and Miss Smith. She looked pained but he ignored the thought.
Silence bloomed between them. Until it hit him.
She wanted Harriet to marry Elton. He saw that clearly now.
Oh, you silly goose, can you really be so blind? He spoke now with even more earnest. She had to listen to this or only mischief would arise and possible irreparable hurt.
"Elton will not do. Elton is a very good sort of man, and a very respectable vicar of Highbury, but not at all likely to make an imprudent match. He knows the value of a good income as well as anybody. Elton may talk sentimentally, but he will act rationally. He is as well acquainted with his own claims, as you can be with Harriet's. He knows that he is a very handsome young man, and a great favorite wherever he goes; and from his general way of talking in unreserved moments, when there are only men present, I am convinced that he does not mean to throw himself away. I have heard him speak with great animation of a large family of young ladies that his sisters are intimate with, who have all twenty thousand pounds apiece."
She didn't listen. The pain of dissatisfaction and anger nearly choked him as he took his leave. This was not going to end well. That filled him with dread that Emma would get hurt.
An errant thought passed through among the rancor. He had, possibly for the first time, been forced to think of the possibility that he might marry one day. And that was very odd.
EMMA
Never, in her 21 years of life had Emma wanted Mr. Knightley gone. Except today. They had fought. Every time he spoke it pricked her. When he stopped talking and stood, stewing, centimeters away from her it dragged the small wound a little more open. And finally when he did leave it was terse and with obvious chagrin. How could he not know that he hurt he? And if he did know then why did he do so? It had been a good decision to discourage the attachment of her friend to one when another, better might soon be on it's way. Unless Mr. Knightley was right. As he often was. But he had not seen what she had. Surely she would be proved right with time.
Harriet returned. The fight attempted to be set aside. And the day progressed.
Mr. Knightley's empty chair that evening renewed the ache in her heart and she regretted that the sun would go down without a chance to make up.
She hoped that chance would come soon. She missed her friend.
a/n First time blending canon with personal writing. Did it work? Was it horrid?
