A/N: Started uni again and it's horribly busy, and here's the evidence – have started writing again! Let me know what you think of this one.
By the time everyone was seated at the table, some of Mr. Knightley's good mood had worn off; he was seated almost as far as he could be from Emma while still having her in his vision, and she just happened to be seated next to Frank Churchill. Throughout dinner, whenever he could find a break in the polite conversation of his nearest neighbours, he looked over at them discreetly, but to no avail. He could not hear anything of what they said, save that they seemed animated, yet speaking in low, hushed voices, as if discussing something for their ears alone.
What could they be talking about so earnestly? And why so quietly? Was Churchill flirting with her? She was looking pleased at what he said, and was responding to his comments in a similar manner to his. Mr. Knightley's face darkened.
The end of the meal couldn't come soon enough, for then at least Emma and Churchill would be separated, if only for a time. Yes, look now, he thought viciously, as Churchill's eyes followed Emma out of the room, for when we retreat to the drawing room I will be the one sitting next to her.
If only that plan hadn't been thwarted as well. Mr. Cole and Mr. Weston, who were engrossed in conversation about some council matter were anxious for his opinion, and Churchill had taken the opportunity to beg their pardon for retreating to join the ladies early as he had nothing to add to such a discussion. For the next fifteen minutes Mr. Knightley was stuck listening to talk of fencing disputes, moving paths and renovating tenants' cottages when all he wanted to do was be with Emma and keep her safe.
Why did this always happen to him? First Elton, now Churchill – if anything this time it was worse, for Emma herself seemed taken in by the fellow, and Mr. Knightley knew he couldn't trust her to rebuff any advances made.
After what seemed an age the other gentlemen finally made the decision to join the ladies – and Mr. Churchill – in the drawing room, and just as Mr. Knightley had feared, Churchill was sitting next to Emma, saying something to her which made her laugh. He was contemplating walking right over and insinuating himself into their conversation uninvited when this drastic measure was rendered unnecessary by Churchill's leaving Emma to say a word or two to Miss Fairfax. Well, it was about time he exchanged pleasantries with someone else – he had been inappropriately focused on Emma alone the whole evening.
When he saw Mrs. Weston take the chair beside Emma, he smiled in satisfaction. Now Churchill could not regain his former place, and Emma would be safe for the moment. Though upon noticing Churchill's defection he had been hoping to take the seat himself, he didn't begrudge its loss – Emma's safety was Emma's safety, and that was all he wanted. After all, he was a partial old friend.
