Some of you are reading so deeply, I love it. To the reviewer that noticed Frank Churchill's song selections for Jane, you nailed it. I love that the little nuances are grasped, that's my favourite! Thanks for sharing! I love hearing your guys thoughts as you read!
Praise & Admiration
Chapter 23
It should not have bothered her as much as it had. The ridiculous tile game, she had forgotten the name, but the memory of it would not soon be forgotten. It had been such an embarrassment and she had felt such a fool! If she never played again it would be too soon.
It was not as if all shared her sentiment. No, naturally Jane and George had found the game highly amusing, as they thoroughly trounced their competition. And Emma tried not to hold their zeal and enjoyment against them as they laughed and enjoyed themselves the entire game—which to Emma's chagrin lasted four rounds.
Oh, and it was not as if they were exaggeratedly gleeful about their victory—that would have been in poor taste, but they certainly were not flummoxed or disillusioned by the game. They were both clever and quick-witted, and evidently better spellers than Emma. They certainly had not lost any points on a technicality either.
That still rubbed her the wrong way, Allium was the correct Latin for the common onion; how could it be disallowed?
She tried her very hardest to forget about it or at very least not to let it detract from the dinner courses or dessert. Everything was indeed delicious but despite her best efforts, the game itself left such as sour taste in her mouth.
Dessert took less intense focus, it was a creamy lemon tart that was more sharp than sweet, and Emma loved it and made a point to rave about it to the entire table.
It was one thing she realized she could be very good at, selecting just right words for praising and encouraging others in their attempts and successes. She was a positive person; it came to her most naturally—some might say it was gifting or a calling.
She could tell it brought great delight to Mrs. Weston who seemed to beam with pride at every praising remark, and possibly to Frank Churchill as well for he seemed to also smile at the praise almost as if it were intended for him.
They played no more games after supper, for that Emma was eternally grateful, the previous game still flashed gratingly across her mind. Jane's cheerful smile result of winning, a matching smile— no perhaps more of a smirk from her own husband. It still almost brought a grimace to her features. Perhaps more than anything it was the awareness of how well matched Jane and her husband had been in the game brought her the most dissatisfaction. She tensed up in recoil and set about again to put the loss and the entire game far from her mind.
The carriage door shut after him as he sat down directly beside her. It may have simply been her nature now, glutton for punishment or something, but she felt relief at his closeness, the way his leg was close enough to brush against the ruffle of her skirt, the fact that she could tangibly feel him near her brought her an odd kind of peace. And at the same time, it disturbed her how long it had been since they had felt this close. As that thought came to mind her pressed herself to really think on it. When was the last time? Perhaps the summer or the drunken ride home from the Coles' party, her brows set at that, although that was not near the same. Certainly not since their trip to London, she agreed with herself. Her feelings were still hurt, what sort of silly creature was she? How could she be longing for his closeness? Yes, it seemed she truly was a glutton for punishment after all.
"You needn't look so dour,"
The statement startled her from her thoughts. She instantly gave suitable reasoning for her cross features. She forced a dry chuckle to cover her inner thoughts, and gave other thoughts sound and voice instead, "Yes you, the victor, may say that! For you did not perform deplorably in the game of alphabet tiles, or at least I should say you did not lose, for I do think it is deplorable that the Latin name for onion was disallowed on a technicality, but some may do whatever they must in order to win by any means possible," she huffed, naturally falling into her legitimate frustration of earlier that evening, and thus becoming very convincing in her crossness.
"Oh hush," he scoffed, "and I do think you enjoyed yourself, whatever you may say!" he insisted. "And I know you do not like losing, I could see it written on your face ever since. But that shouldn't make you bitter, and if you enjoy winning so much maybe next time you'll be on my team," his voice rippled with boyish humour, she'd have seen it reflecting in his eyes if she would have brought her own to look at him. But alas she did not.
"Well, it's not all about winning, Miss. Bates was a perfectly enjoyable teammate, but it was a silly game and I did not think a very fun one and hopefully next time we will play something else. I'm quite good at whist, very good actually and I realize I do not like games involving letters on cards or tiles." She huffed, feeling every bit a dragon of folklore, one that needed to get out all of its fire in order to be relaxed again.
"Alright. Fair enough. But Emma to brighten your mood, for I can see that you are sullen, I am very proud of you," he informed her.
She was stunned by the statement. She raised her eyes to his then, only to find him beaming at her. Proud was not a word he used lightly. And oh, how the look of proudness affected her. She hated how she savored his favour. Like something being poured down from heaven! It was as if his words were some fine elixir, a healing balm, a delightful essence that she desperately needed, wanted, dreamt of. To be esteemed by him was almost intoxicating to her mind and senses.
The word proud from his lips held her in rapt attention. He continued, "Emma I was very pleased that you were involving Jane. You know that while she plays amazingly well, their house does not have an instrument—there is no way for her to practice and everyone knows her to be so fond of music. It was a tremendous thing you did to give her the opportunity to play and enjoy the music. You had the leverage being so close a friend to Mrs. Weston and I was so proud to see you utilize your talents for hosting as to include Jane and to make certain that she was welcome and enjoying herself. You've done well in that," he boasted proudly.
Emma smiled broadly unable to help herself, he continued, "And Jane being very musical, one could see the delight on her face at having the chance to play and sing. It was a kindness to all really for she has such talent and such a great voice, "he admitted.
Emma held one expression back, as he began to praise Jane and her illustrious musical talents.
He continued, "It also speaks to her ethic and her unwillingness to turn down opportunities presented."
Emma shifted slightly, wishing to do away with the topic of Jane and on to something more agreeable but for once in her life, she was without words and at a complete loss for how to shift the conversation elsewhere.
"And then I think to all the ladies with grand instruments in their homes and they scarcely touch them. As if they only do for the household to dust them," he teased.
Emma felt her own guilt set in at his statement, for it described her exactly. She had access to instruments all her life, in fact, there were two different pianos at Donwell Abbey, the best one in the Lady's study just a few strides beyond her own room—the lady's study which Emma felt rather still belonged to the former Mrs. Knightley. But that was not her excuse for not playing, certainly, she had skillfully avoided practicing all her young life and it was a habit that pursued her into adulthood as well. She was idle in the area of music, she had not practiced, not nearly as much as she had ought to and the lollipops had attested to it. She liked music in a passive, casual sort of way, having an ear for enjoying it but not special gifting by any means. She was no great talent, for every drop of energy she put into it, she got one drop of equity in her playing ability. There was no great return on investment and as a principle, she invested as little as she could afford. The laziness of her youth showed now, she was not deserving of any of the praise he had bestowed on Jane. In fact, if anything she was fortunate to be as proficient as she was, for it was hardly earned by hard work or the industriousness Mr. Knightley has described as praiseworthy in Jane.
"And yet Jane, who has not even a small piano, she was so dedicated and so gifted, her playing shows years of intentional practice, and one knows instantly that she must have been very focused and very industrious, she must have been a very ardent student in her years living with her friends the Campbells, when she did have access to an instrument."
Thinking on it now she could practice hours a day should she choose to, and then she would be as well accomplished at Jane. And maybe then she would not be judged for her lack of practice nor to hear Jane's ability endlessly praised. She had no real excuse, what was her reason not to? She felt her blush, she was ashamed slightly at how ignorant she had been of her opportunities and how she hardly made use of possessions that many would have dreamed of or longed for.
"And her voice, very trained and very pleasing, I'm sure Frank Churchill thought it too. The nerve of that man! Though I had not thought it possible, I grow more and more astounded of his silliness each waking day." He confided to her, seeing how her face relaxed at the mention of Frank but not understanding her relief at any topic apart from Jane Fairfax.
The feeling was exactly bittersweet. To be so praised by him but then to hear his seemingly unending praise for the lovely Jane Fairfax and all her talents. That was almost enough to make her seethe, but instead, it made her curious to burrow deeper into what he had said.
Had there ever been something between them, some wish on his part perhaps?
Try as she might she could not remember Jane much before they were fifteen—she had come to visit then, a short break as her friends the Campbells were going on a family trip to the European continent and it was decided at that time that Jane would summer in Highbury with her relations instead. And back then all Emma could remember was a willowy young girl, perhaps the only one who Highbury thought equal to, or in some cases to Emma's chagrin, more perfect than Emma Woodhouse—and the reason for the surpassing notion seemed to be that while Emma was good and lovely, she had been handed everything she possessed and Jane being good and lovely had worked for the possession of every merit she had. Emma had formed an instant dislike for her rival; in hindsight, she could not recall a word spoken about Jane good or bad by Mr. Knightley.
Mr. Knightley, as a rule, spoke well about everyone, unless they were truly deserving of some reprimand. As Jane was truly very good in thought, words and deeds, it stands as likely that he would have said only positive things or nothing at all if she drew no notice, for she was very quiet and mousey back then. Emma would not have been surprised if he had not known her but to be Miss. Bates' niece.
She sighed softly. And unbeknownst to her Mr. Knightley would think it was in reaction to his statement about Frank.
If he had not known her but to be Miss. Bates' niece then, apparently all that was changed now, for now, he had many praiseworthy things to say about her accomplishments and her person.
Emma would admit that Jane Fairfax had returned to them far more pretty than her former self, beautiful skin, healthy glowing cheeks, and bright eyes. Yes, all the sea air in Weymouth must have been very agreeable.
Was it possible Mr. Knightley noticed now what he had not before?
Was he regretful that his status was otherwise occupied?
Emma sharply bit her lip to stop her errant thoughts.
"Speaking poorly of him makes you fall silent? I only say what is the plain truth, he had no care for her voice, only his own selfish pleasures. I think him a very selfish man indeed,"
"Let us not speak of him then," Emma offered attempting to dismiss the new subject—in hindsight, she would have preferred more gushing praise of the lovely Jane Fairfax. "Perhaps you would like to regal me further with the accomplishments and faculties of Jane Fairfax?" She stated with a degree of false sweetness, that anyone would see as scoffing or merely sharpness.
"Don't be petty Emma, it does not become you," he said and then he turned to admire the darkened nighttime landscape outside his carriage window.
It was a few days since performing so poorly in the tile game that Emma encountered her partner in the game. Or rather it was Miss. Bates that called out to hear, as Emma was exiting the draper's shop.
"Thank you, my dear Emma, for the stupendous hindquarter of pork," she said with great delight and enthusiasm.
It was a conundrum indeed for Emma had not sent a hindquarter of pork. Although, perhaps someone else from Donwell had on her behalf.
"I have always said that Donwell has the best pork—such a pleasant sweetness— although not to be compared to the pork formally sent from Hartfield, for I know you would feed them likely as many, if not more Donwell apples than at Donwell itself!" Miss Bates reflected.
"Certainly! Of Father used to love the sweetness of the meat when they would eat sweet foods like carrots, corn and apples, and Mr. Knightley was always so kind as to have his man William Larkin bring the bruised, crushed and dented apples on to Hartfield for he knew how much father liked it such," Emma smiled at the memory, "it was always such a gift!" Emma told her.
"Oh! Speaking of it, I cannot fathom how it was not the first thing I spoke to you of! But, it may be just as well for then it may have appeared quite rude, if the news of it interrupted my thankfulness for the pork—so tender and sweet as it was, I would hate for you and Mr. Knightley to think us ungrateful. We are ever so grateful for the generosity, "
"News? What news?" Emma asked hastily, almost fearful that Miss. Bates would enter another round of effusive thanks before explaining.
"Oh, well we are but a short walk to our apartment, and it must be seen I think, for I am certain words hardly do justice to it—Yes, I think it must be seen in person—we were so very shocked, it arrived just this morning! Such extravagance! You shan't think it unladylike if we hurry—would you dear Emma?"
"Certainly not! I feel the suspense might kill me should we linger slowly!" Emma told her, half in jest, half exasperated that the women who knew not how to hold her tongue would hold it now, of all times!
Sorry! This was meant to be posted a long time ago but it wasn't finished. I knew what I wanted to say but I was struggling to find time and motivation to write it down. I voice record chapters as I drive, so basically, I needed to transcribe my verbal notes. It should NOT have taken this long.
I am so grateful to those that review, you all deserve a long verbose, Miss. Bates-esque rant on how grateful I am! ;)
Please review if you are still following along!
