A/N: Just want to do what I should have done some time ago... Thank you ChocolateIsMyDrug, for your faithful reviews in every chapter, I want you to know that your reviews have been a great source of encouragement to me! :-)
Thank you wokanshutaiduo, for pointing out my over-usage of the exclamation mark, I'm watching it for everyone now, not just Mr. Knightley, although I still use them a lot! ;-)
Thank you batzmaru347, for pointing out my typo in chapter nine, I have edited it since then.
And thank you to all those who reviewed in the past, and those who have been reading the story in silence - I would love to hear from you!
A Lady and a 'Gentleman'
Chapter Ten: More than a 'Gentleman' Look
It had been five years since George came to the Brentwood fair - the last time he was here he came with Robert Martin. For at least three generations, Abbey-Mill-Farm had been the unofficial model farm of Donwell, and the Martin family had not only produced many exceptional crops and produces, but many a fine farmer during these generations. Farmer Martin had always the highest hope for his son, Robert, to carry on the legacy of Abbey-Mill, but unfortunately he passed away when Robert was only seventeen, leaving him as his premature protégé. In the hopes of fulfilling the good farmer's wish and helping the family, George commissioned himself to see to young Robert Martin's success at the farm. One of the many things he did for the Martins was accompanying Robert to the annual Brentwood fair - a long time favorite of the family to acquire all that the farm needed, from farm wares and equipment, to fattened cows and farm-oxen, etc. For the first three years after Farmer Martin's passing, he came to Brentwood to guide Robert to make the best choices for Abbey-Mill-Farm.
Within an hour of his arrival at the fair on Wednesday morning, the Master of Donwell Abbey was recognized and greeted by many farmers and landowners from nearby towns and counties – as Mr. Knightley of Donwell Abbey had the reputation of being the kindest and most tenant-minded landowner and agricultural improver of the region, over the years he had made many friends with farmers and landowners alike, one of them was Mr. Dickenson, an older gentleman landowner from Rochester, also a well respected agricultural improver. George had known Mr. Dickenson since he was a young boy when his father used to take him to agricultural events. Mr. Dickenson and the late Mr. Knightley met in one of the agricultural fairs when they were young, and became good friends because of their passion for agricultural improvements. George had been meeting him during most of the agricultural fairs and events over the years and continued to value his friendship and respect his opinion in all matters farming and improvements even after his father passed away.
"Mr. George Knightley! Is that you or am I mistaken?" Mr. Dickenson said it aloud from behind George.
George recognized the voice even before he turned around to see the face.
"Mr. Dickenson! How are you?" George turned around and shook his old friend's hands warmly, for he knew Mr. Dickenson, a gentleman with certain peculiar preferences only known to his close friends, preferred the shaking of hands over bowing when greeting those whom he was very fond of.
"I'm well, thank you, Mr. Knightley. And how are you? I never thought that I would see you at Brentwood!"
"I'm doing very well, thank you, Mr. Dickenson. I think I'm as surprised to find you here as you are me. What brought you to Brentwood?"
"Oh! It's a long story – early last month we had a rain storm, the wind torn down a portion of our home farm fences, and the rain flooded some of the fields; my youngest daughter married a month ago which prevented me to go to the Chatham fair; then I caught a bad case of cold two weeks ago which prevented me to go to the Loughton fair; and my bailiff has been ill for weeks, but we urgently need the material to replace the fence and some new equipment for the home farm – so here I'm." Mr. Dickenson shook his head as he recounted all that had happened within a few short weeks.
"Congratulations on your daughter's marriage, and I'm very sorry to hear about the damage of your home farm from the rain storm. Donwell was more fortunate, we survived the wind without much damage, and the rain had eased when the storm reached our parish."
"Yes, you were indeed fortunate… And this old man here would rather not talk about the storm anymore, for it had given me enough trouble already. So, what brought you here, Mr. Knightley? I thought I would see you at the Kingston fair instead of here."
"Yes, I'm going to the Kingston fair next week. I'm only here for Mr. Robert Martin – he and his wife are expecting their first child in three months. As Mrs. Martin requires more care from Mr. Martin, I promised him that I would take his place to come to Brentwood for Abbey-Mill-Farm."
"Ah! You are always such a faithful friend and a kind-hearted landlord - even some of my tenants wish to move to Donwell just so that you could be their landlord. Your father would have been proud of you, George!" Mr. Dickenson had known George long before he became the Master of Donwell. He used to call him by his Christian name when he was a young boy; since George had become the master himself, Mr. Dickenson had been paying him the due respect by addressing him formally.
George smiled warmly to thank Mr. Dickenson's kind words.
Mr. Dickenson continued, "And I believe congratulations are in order for you, Mr. Knightley - I heard that you finally gave up your bachelorhood and married!" Apparently, George's reputation of being a confirmed bachelor was as well known as being a kind-hearted landlord.
"Thank you, Mr. Dickenson. Yes, I have been married since last October." George could not keep his grin from his face.
"And I believe the bride was the lovely Miss Woodhouse, wasn't it?"
"Yes, indeed, Mr. Dickenson… I know news could travel far, but never expected it to be accurate." George was amused by this intelligence, as he never thought that his matrimony would be of anyone's interest outside of Highbury.
"Oh, no! The news of your marriage did spread far, but I did not hear the name of the bride from the news."
"Then how did you know that it was Miss Woodhouse?" George was intrigued.
"Aha, Mr. Knightley – mind you that I have known you since you were a young lad, you have been one of the most pleasant-tempered gentleman I have ever met – except for last year!"
"Last year?"
"Yes, last year, at the Kingston fair – I had never seen you look graver in my life, and I could tell that it was not because of Donwell or any of your farmer tenants."
George was listening with keen interest.
"You were not yourself, Mr. Knightley – you looked so grave during the entire fair and spoke very little of anything, not even the subject of land improvement could interest you, which was extremely unusual for you. I remember during our supper on the last day of the fair, you finally mentioned something about there was going to be a Ball at Highbury, organized by some young man, and your long time family friend Miss Woodhouse was looking forward to it exceedingly, but you were not."
"I remember our conversation - you asked me why, and I told you that I did not enjoy dancing and was not good at it… how could you gather so much from such a short conversation, Mr. Dickenson?" George was exceedingly curious.
Mr. Dickenson sighed. "Mr. Knightley, I have lived many years, been in-love more than once myself, and seen all my sons and daughters in-love and married… from the look on your face I could tell that you did not enjoy dancing was not because you were not good at it, it was because of the young lady, Miss Woodhouse, that you were speaking of…"
George's face colored, and Mr. Dickenson laughed heartily. "But there is nothing to be embarrassed about, Mr. Knightley, one cannot help it when one is in-love… by the look of your face today, I could tell that all the melancholy from last year was gone, and you and your bride must be as happy as any married couple can be!"
For a few seconds, George was speechless - he took off his hat, looked down at his shoes and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. As he quickly gathered his composure, he looked up and spoke.
"As my father had told me many times - you are indeed a keen observer, nothing escapes your eyes, Mr. Dickenson. You were right in all of the above – and indeed, I have everything to be thankful for and nothing to be melancholy about."
"I'm very happy for you, George! You deserve to have the best woman as your wife – and I know that any lady who could win the love of yours must be the luckiest woman in the world."
"Thank you, Mr. Dickenson… and let me tell you that I am the luckiest man in the world to have Miss Woodhouse be my wife." The approval of his marriage from his late father's long time friend meant very much to George, other than Mr. Woodhouse, Mr. Dickenson was the only surviving gentleman friend of his father's and he valued his opinion as much as Mr. Woodhouse'.
"So, is Mr. Martin looking for fattened cows for Abbey-Mill-Farm? I know exactly where they are, come with me, Mr. Knightley, I was just there… and tell me more about your lovely wife… I've heard that she's actually the sister of your sister-in-law, what a rare chance for two brothers to marry to two sisters…"
George was happy to answer all the questions from Mr. Dickenson regarding his Emma, as he followed the lead of Mr. Dickenson to find the best fattened cows for Abbey-Mill-Farm.
Just as the day before, Mrs. Thompson arrived at Hartfield at exactly half past three this afternoon, the same time when Mr. Woodhouse was taking his nap by the fire in the drawing-room. After they exchanged their customary politeness, Emma invited Mrs. Thompson to follow her to her dressing-room, where her mother's gentleman clothing had been removed to.
Once Emma, Mrs. Thompson, and Betty were all in Emma's dressing-room, Mrs. Thompson reached into the pocket of one of Emma's mother's waistcoats and said, "Ah! Mrs. Knightley, look what I have here for you…" She handed a small strip of hairy object to Emma.
"Oh! What is it, Mrs. Thompson?" Before Mrs. Thompson had time to reply, Emma already had the answer to her own question, "It's a mustache! Yes… Mama had a mustache in her gentleman portrait, I recognize it…"
"That's right, Mrs. Knightley! I had completely forgotten about the mustache yesterday. Your face is too beautiful and delicate, even with gentleman clothing your face will give your identity away in a second. The mustache will cover your delicate mouth and work as a distraction from other features on your face… that was what Miss Isabel said… I'm so glad it was still in the waistcoat pocket!"
"But… but… what was it made of? If it's human hair… whose hair was it? It … feels… so real…" Feeling a bit disgusted, Emma's brows furrowed as she thought of putting someone's hair on her face.
"Oh! No! This is not human hair, Mrs. Knightley, have no fear… this is made of horse hair… we purchased it form a groom-shop and it had been washed and cleaned before I put it in the pocket after Miss Isabel last wore it. See, the texture of horse hair is very close to the human mustache - it is not too soft, not too stiff, it will hold its shape very well."
"I suppose Mama was right… it will help distract the attention… but… I think I'll try it on later… Mrs. Thompson… I thought we were going to work on the gentleman walk today, weren't we?" Emma asked eagerly, putting the mustache away in the waistcoat pocket.
"Yes, yes, indeed we were… let me think…what did Miss Isabel say about the gentleman walk…" Mrs. Thompson murmured to herself.
"I must be getting too old… I can't remember what she said about how gentlemen walked! But I do remember that she used to observe how Mr. Hamley walked, and used his walk as a guide."
"Well… then I suppose I could use Papa's walk as my guide… let me think how Papa walks…"
With Mr. Woodhouse' image in her mind, Emma started walking from one end of the dressing-room to the other in front of Mrs. Thompson and Betty. As she turned around to walk back, Betty burst into laughter. It must be contagious, for Mrs. Thompson and Emma herself also joined in the laughter simultaneously.
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Knightley!" Betty trying hard to suppress her laughers, "it's just that… you look exactly like Mr. Woodhouse… you have his slouch back, slightly tilted head, and you walk just as slow as Mr. Woodhouse does!"
Wiping the tears of laughter off her eyes, Emma said mischievously "Isabella and I used to imitate Papa's walk when we were little children… well… actually I was the only one who did it, Isabella just gave me signal as soon as she saw Papa or Miss Taylor coming… I suppose I haven't lost my 'acting' ability after all these years!" Emma was excited to recall one of her favorite pastimes with Isabella when they were children.
Suddenly Mrs. Thompson spoke out loud, "Oh! I remember what Miss Isabel said about the gentleman walk… she said 'ladies glide, but gentlemen stride'… I'm sure that's what she said!" Mrs. Thompson was relieved that she finally remembered.
"Umph… 'Ladies glide but gentlemen stride'… whose gentleman stride could I imitate…" Emma thought intensely.
'YES! I know!" Emma exclaimed, and her eyes brightened.
Emma thought that the most perfect, elegant, graceful gentleman that she ever knew her entire life must be no one other than her George! She closed her eyes as she pictured the night at the Crown Inn Ball exactly twelve months ago… She was more disturbed by Mr. Knightley's not dancing, than by anything else. There he was, among the standers-by, where he ought not to be; he ought to be dancing, -not classing himself with the husbands, and fathers, and whist-players, who were pretending to feel and interest in the dance till their rubbers were made up, -so young as he looked! He moved a few steps nearer, and those few steps were enough to prove in how gentlemanlike a manner, with what natural grace; he must have danced… Emma smiled as she remembered that before the end of that night, she and George had danced their very first dance together!
She admired the tall, firm, and upright figure that George had, and the natural grace and gentlemanlike manner that he possessed; she thought his walk would be the perfect gentleman walk for her to imitate. So she straightened her back, stood up tall, squared her shoulders, lifted up her chin very slightly, kept her eyes looking forward, and started striding with air and grace from one end to the other and back again in the dressing-room.
"Mrs. Knightley! That was perfect! I dare say that you did even better than Miss Isabel!" Both Mrs. Thompson and Betty were applauding Emma.
"Thank you Mrs. Thompson and thank you Betty!" Secretly basking in their praises, Emma could not be more proud of the gracefulness of her George. "It's only because I have the best gentleman walk to follow!"
"I'm so glad things are going so well, Mrs. Knightley… now I think the last thing you need to work on is the voice… what did Miss Isabel say about the voice…" Mrs. Thompson began to search her memory.
"Isn't a gentleman's voice harsher than a lady's?" All these time Betty had been enjoying watching all that Emma and her mother were doing, she could not help herself to chime in.
"I think you're right, Betty, lady's voice is much more pleasant than man's I think - ladies' voices are soft and high pitch, while men's are coarse and low." Emma welcomed Betty's opinion very much for she had always thought that Betty was the most timid and gentle girl she knew, she would love to hear her speak more often.
"Mrs. Knightley, did you say 'pitch'?" Mrs. Thompson's eyes were bright and hopeful, "I remember now! Miss Isabel used to take voice lessons… Mr. Hamley used to love listening to her sing. He thought that Miss Isabel had the sweetest voice he had ever heard. Her teacher told Miss Isabel that men's voices were generally about an octave lower than women's… oh, I'm so glad I finally remember!"
Emma lowered her voice in an effort to speak like a man, "Hum… I suppose that is right… men's voices are generally an octave lower than women's… "
"Mrs. Knightley… you sounded like 'Ursula', our dairy cow at the farm!" Betty was laughing.
Trying to catch her breath, Emma said, "I don't think I could speak like this for more than a sentence, I'll be running out of breath very soon." She started to laugh as well.
For years Miss Taylor had given singing lessons to Isabella and Emma. Isabella was focus and diligent in her practices and could carry a tune beautifully, but clever Emma was the one with the sweeter voice, and always quick to grasp the essence of the lessons. However, just like many things which natural talents she had, but industry and patience she had not – Emma never spent half the time as Isabella did in practicing, even though many praised her for her lovely voice and performances whenever she entertained guests on occasions, she knew her technique was not nearly polished to the level it could have reached.
Fortunately she remembered what Miss Taylor said about breathing into the chest and lower-body to yield low pitches and open sounds. Emma steadied herself, and started taking slow deep breathes (to breathing into her lower-body) and then walked up to Betty in her gentleman strides. She took a bow in front of her and spoke in a charming gentlemanly voice, "Good afternoon, Miss Betty! What a pleasure to have you in my dressing-room this afternoon."
As soon as Emma finished, Betty burst into violence giggles, and very soon she was laughing so hard that she bent forward to hold her abdomen with both hands! Mrs. Thompson also joined in, and then a second later Emma could not contain herself anymore and laughed herself silly.
Finally after their laughter had subsided, Mrs. Thompson spoke with delight, "Oh! Mrs. Knightley, I think you have the nicest gentleman voice I have ever heard; and if today, you decided to put on your mother's gentleman clothes, walk as you did and speak in the gentleman voice that you just had… oh! and don't forget the mustache and the wig… then no one will be able to tell that there is a beautiful lady underneath all that!" Mrs. Thompson was proud to have fulfilled Mr. Woodhouse' request in his note to assist his daughter in her gentleman disguise, and was very satisfied that her work was complete.
It was finally time for Mrs. Thompson to take leave. Emma thanked her wholeheartedly for telling her her mother's story, and for helping her with her gentleman disguise. She walked Mrs. Thompson to the front gate and bade her goodbye and thanked her again. As Mrs. Thompson took her leave, and Betty went inside the house, Emma decided to take a walk in the garden alone.
Emma was amazed at how much had happened in the last few days, seeing her mother's portraits, finding out her scheme, sending George off on his journey, hearing her mother's story from Mrs. Thompson, discovering her mother's letters, and working on her own gentleman disguise. To think that all these were instigated by her desire to accompany George on his journey amused her! Now that her gentleman disguise had turned out so well she was left with one important question to herself – what would she do with it?
She decided that she would not make a hasty decision and was happy to leave it be for now.