A/N: Please review!
Emma was in deep conversation with Mrs. Weston, and for some reason they kept looking over at him. He tried to pretend not to notice, roving his gaze over the other guests, trying to locate Churchill (his aim was to always keep that man within his line of vision). He saw the young man now sitting by Jane Fairfax; however, it seemed Miss Fairfax's reserve was universal and not simply for Emma. Churchill seemed to be speaking twenty words for every one of hers. He smiled in grim satisfaction; perhaps it would do the young man good to be coldly rebuffed for once – he needed to realise that a winning smile and charming manners could not beguile everyone.
He just wished Emma did not have to be one of the beguiled.
He was still too far away to hear more than the tone of her voice as she was speaking to Mrs. Weston (though of course he wasn't trying to listen), but he could tell that as Emma's words grew more eager, she grew more agitated. When, unable to help himself any longer, he glanced over and met her gaze, he could not read the expression of her eyes; she gave him a strained smile before looking quickly away.
Perhaps fortunately, before he was tempted to inconspicuously move closer and eavesdrop in a most ungentlemanly manner, Mr. Cole approached Emma and seemed to be soliciting her to play on their new pianoforte. Emma smiled modestly – though he could tell she was pleased at being asked first before any other young lady – but before she could give the acceptance which was no doubt forthcoming, Frank Churchill appeared out of nowhere to add his unneeded and entirely too eager entreaties (they were audible from where Mr. Knightley was standing).
If he could have wished for any particular reaction to this from Emma, it would have been a cold set-down which would hopefully have taken the wind out of Churchill's sails; however, when her cheerful reply of 'Very well, I will play' came, he supposed he should be thankful that it was addressed to Mr. Cole, and that Churchill's pretty speech had elicited no real response from her.
Such thoughts were put aside for the moment as she began to play, however. Emma's performance, such as it was, could not but be pleasing. Although he knew her reputation for accomplishment was rather higher than she deserved, she was at least well aware of her own limitations and played only what she could do credit to, and as she was well able to accompany her own voice, the overall effect was a pleasant one.
Until the song was ruined by Mr. Churchill adding his own – utterly unneeded – voice to Emma's. He appeared to be the only person who found this interruption, this blatant stealing of Emma's limelight, rude and selfish. The Westons, he noticed, exchanged a look of delighted satisfaction, and everyone else seemed much struck by the picture the beautiful young woman and the handsome young man made as they sang together.
After the song was over, Emma smiled up at the wretch and said laughingly, 'Well, Mr. Churchill, it seems your secret is out – now we all know that you have a delightful voice, and a thorough knowledge of music!'
The young man laughed in affected modesty, and then weakly protested. 'Oh no, not at all. I know nothing of the matter, and have no voice at all.'
Mr. Knightley's lip curled slightly. If the young man really were modest about his own musical abilities – and damn him, it had to be admitted that his voice was good – he would not have put himself forward, especially not uninvited in the middle of Emma's performance.
Well, at least Emma had left him to his denials of any talent and hadn't bothered to contradict him out of his self-deprecation. She was not then so far gone – but the very fact of her cheerful acceptance of his insinuation into her performance, her utter lack of pique at his stealing her thunder (for however well-hidden, he was sure he, who had known her all her life, would have recognized the signs even if her manners were impeccable) worried him.
Were the Westons right in their suspicions? Was Emma becoming enamoured of Churchill? He wasn't sure, but one thing he was sure about was that Churchill was not sincerely attached to Emma – he seemed more in love with himself than anyone else, and his sole aim seemed to be to simper and smile and make love to everyone and cement his position as Highbury's favourite.
If such was indeed the case, then Mr. Knightley would have to keep a careful eye on Emma and make sure she did not get hurt. After all, he was a partial old friend.
