Thank you all who reviewed. I really appreciate the support and encouragement to keep writing.
Thank you to those that count down days between updates, that warmed my heart to read! (I try to aim for once a month but you know how off I can be!)
It isn't for lack of idea or direction, it is just often writing is the last thing that gets done amongst a busy schedule. I love it, it is relaxing and exciting and I love imagining and thinking about stories, I wish more of my time could go to writing!
Thank you to those that have said Emma is canon, I love that, that is my main goal! It is high praise in my opinion!
Without any more ado, here is the new chapter.
Gifts
Chapter 25
Scene: for the entry to this chapter we have Emma, leaning over a writing desk in their parlor, scribbling away happily. I'll leave the rest to you.
You would hardly believe it Frank!
You remember Jane Fairfax, don't you? She was the one who played so well at your stepmother's dinner party. I believe you are also acquainted with her close friends the Campbells or perhaps maybe a Mr. Dixon?
Anyways, you will hardly believe the gift that was sent to her! If you weren't all the way in Yorkshire I'd make you guess. As it is such a distance, I'll save you the suspense and the rider then effort.
Someone—an unknown figure at this point—has sent our dear friend Jane Fairfax a pianoforte. It sounds far fetched but it is the complete and utter truth and it is absolutely the talk of the town. And people say Highbury is a sleepy place and that nothing ever happens here. Well, this will prove them wrong about that if nothing else does! It really is mysterious!
I'm not sure what I think about it! For a short time, I wondered if it was my own husband that had sent it, for he has such a soft spot for Jane, as well as for the entire Bates family. I have in recent months noticed him often to praise her for many things. The generous person that he is, and his attitude of always wanting to do right by everyone. This caused me to wonder if he had dispatched the gift, secretly as not to cause a commotion. (men are silly like that at times, the things they assume will reduce commotion are often the very factors that stir it up!). He had taken such an interest in her lack of an instrument following the party, but he says he has not sent it, and I know him to be nothing if not a man of his word. So it must have been another person.
The mystery remains! In addition, Harriet has not been able to draw anything extra out of Jane either. I thought perhaps that which Jane would not confide to me, she might be willing to confide to one as sweet and docile as my dear friend Harriet. They are similar in that they are both unmarried and would have many things in common in terms of social status. I thought these commonalities might allow Jane to divulge more. Alas, Jane does not seem to be willing to share the information with anyone.
Some have speculated that Colonel Campbell and Mrs. Campbell had given it to her, but that does not explain the shroud of secrecy. I think all clear thinking individuals would agree that it must be a romantic gift.
I personally can only think of two reasons that would prompt Jane to say nothing about it. One, perhaps she is embarrassed by the sender and does not wish to encourage the attention. For what else could she do in this predicament? Surely, a person could not really return a gifted pianoforte to the sender, could they? It would certainly stir up far more notice than demurely accepting the gift! Jane is the exact image of demure, don't you think? And who would pay for the return delivery dues—the family is certainly not in a place to pour out expenditures on the removal of a piano to who knows where? Certainly, if the gift was unwanted, it would be a very awkward thing indeed and it would have placed her in a rather tenuous position. It would be likely that she would wish to say nothing more about it and to refuse to name the sender.
Or, two, perhaps she is unaware of who the sender is, we are told there was no note to accompany it, what if it truly were a secret admirer? I can think of no other motivation for the secrecy, can you?
I'll let you think on it, and if you have any clever notions you might share them with me the next time we meet!
She heard movement in the room but continued with her letter.
But it isn't as if nothing ever happens here. Another incredible surprise is that Mr. Elton is engaged.
A girl named Augusta Hawkins whom nobody has really ever heard of. The family is from London, and I suppose we will see what kind of a woman she is in a short span of time. She—
"Are you busy, Emma?"
"I was just writing a letter but it isn't pressing," she told him. Placing her pen back in its holder and using the press to blot away the extra ink before placing it aside.
"I wondered if you might take tea with me," he posited. "Cook made scones," he told her and when she looked at him she noticed he was holding a tea tray, perfectly set up with all the necessary items for an English tea.
She smiled at him, feeling silly and yet pleased all the same seeing him as he was, "Look at you, all doting and domesticated," she offered.
"Yes," he agreed. "I brought you a gift and I thought we could have tea after,"
"A gift! Really?"
"I ordered it from London, and it came by rider this afternoon. I suppose you might open it Emma before I say anything else and give the surprise of it away."
"What is it?" She asked still rather surprised and looking keenly at the package he held.
"It's a gift Emma, to tell you of the contents rather defeats the purpose of wrapping it. For you see it was in a plain manila envelope and I requested Mrs. Hodges re-wrap it in the expert way of hers, in the floral print paper you find it in now."
"Really? Well, that was very thoughtful. And you know how dearly I love flowers. These delicate pink ones here on the paper print are called— What is the occasion? Have I overlooked something?" She asked stopping mid-thought to ask.
He smiled at her chuckling richly, almost as if he enjoyed seeing her grasping for the meaning behind it. "You've overlooked nothing, what are the flowers called?"
"Phlox subulata" she told him before adding dryly, "which I hope is acceptable to you for I do not think I know the English name, but I suppose it is a good thing we are not playing alphabet tiles!" She called out with a small degree of indignation before adding, "Are you sure that there is no occasion? It isn't my birthday, nor my father's, nor your birthday—"
"Did you really think I might give you a gift on my own birthday?" He scoffed his teasing tone was in full stride.
"Well, it makes absolutely as much sense as a gift for no purpose whatsoever!" She exclaimed. "Unless— you haven't broken something have you? I'm not liable to accept the gift and then see a cabinet full of shattered dishes and one of Virgil's fetching sticks at the foot of it?"
"No occasion, does a man need an occasion to dote upon his wife? I thought of it and thought you might enjoy it, but really open it before the suspense gets to me,"
She laughed at his words.
"Accept the gift, Emma," he said hoarsely, placing his hand at the spot her shoulder met her neck as if to steady her thoughts. She felt the ripples coursing from the very spot and zinging in waves towards her heart.
"Very well, very well. I will do just as you ask," she agreed heartily. Resisting the urge to turn her head and cheekily kiss his hand. "Because you ask so nicely I will open it now, for who am I to resist such inducement?" she turned her head towards him with a loopy grin. Both knew her to be perfectly unable to resist gifts, mainly driven by her curiosity to know information rather than an innate desire for material things.
"Something very flat," she acknowledged running her fingers around the edges of the packaging. "A notebook perhaps?" She guessed looking back at him expectantly, her blue eyes big with excitement and boldly persuading him to agree with her.
He shook his head, "I forgot how much you loved guessing," he told her reminiscently.
"Of course I do," she admitted, she bent the package gently, leaning forward and inspecting it, her curls followed her motion, falling forward to brush against her forehead, she pressed them back out of her line of vision with her free hand, "Hmm—is it stationary?"
"No, and I think you just enjoy being right!" He scoffed, "Do you remember that time I bought you an edging trowel for gardening? You guessed it right off,"
"Of course I remember, that was only the summer before last and it was shaped exactly like an edging spade, hardly a great feat of clairvoyance!" she reflected with a light titter at the memory.
"Still, it was demonstrative of your enjoyment of guessing, and your occasional accuracy," he acknowledged.
"Occasional! Certainly more than occasional," she said with a small measure of pride, "Is it a newspaper?"
"A newspaper? No, not at all— why would I gift you a wrapped up newspaper? I feel that might be seen by most as a rather cruel letdown or something of a prank. And see, that kind of a guess is exactly why I used the very word 'occasional'," he retorted, with laughter when he could no longer keep a straight face.
"Yes," she admitted with a light blush, "that does sound a very silly guess when said aloud," she admitted. "I wasn't fully thinking, and it is so light and papery and it also feels as though there are several leaflets as a newspaper has," she offered to explain her logic.
"Open the gift, Emma," he encouraged, though fully enjoying how much delight she took in the simple action of guessing.
She took a deep breath to inhale any aromas, holding the paper print very close to her face, wishing for some sort of clue from her other senses. She could not smell anything but the rich papery scent.
"Alright, and I'll admit I have no idea," she owned, almost possessing the features of one in remorse for their actions.
She met his eyes, he smiled back, and it pleased him more than he could have guessed that she could not predict the contents of the package. He liked the feeling and thought to seek opportunities to replicate it in the future.
"Go on then," he urged.
She sighed deeply and began to peel back the wrapping.
Beneath the flowery paper was a plain manila envelope as he said and beneath the envelope, several sheets of paper as she had guessed, but instead of stationary or newsprint she found musical notes. It appeared several songs all bound with a pretty red ribbon.
"They are said to be the latest in London," he promised.
"They look lovely, complex but delightful," she offered grinning at him without reservation. She began running her fingers along the first few pages and thinking of the notes in her head.
He was obviously proud of her for practicing, why else would he give her such a gift?
That thought alone made her as happy as any gift ever could!
"You have been practicing and consistently, I have heard you daily and you are improving— these songs may be a little more of a challenge now but soon enough if you were to keep up with your practice they would be well in hand. I'm certain of it,"
"Thank you George, they are wonderful and I think soon I will make copies for Jane, I'm sure she would appreciate what is the latest style in London, and it is unlikely she has much access to new music, for when I asked her if any music had been sent with the instrument she said that nothing had, but that she had many songs memorized,"
"That seems a nice gesture, it is very thoughtful of you Emma," he encouraged.
"Oh, and I have found a family in the village who is willing to accept their old end tables, so I'll try to make an effort to copy the sheets of music before I am to go and arrange the details the with the Bates."
He nodded.
"Would you mind entirely if I were to begin copying these directly after our tea?" She asked him gently. "As I am somewhat out of the practice of making copies and I am not sure how long they will take me," she excused.
"Not at all," he agreed, "after we have tea, I will leave you to it,"
Jane Fairfax seemed genuinely astonished and so very well pleased by the copies that she was almost speechless.
"I don't know how to thank you,"
Emma smiled broadly, feeling like the patron saint of musicians or something other, perhaps a sort of fairy godmother.
"These are lovely Emma—I don't know what to say,'" Jane exclaimed.
"My husband—well he is generally very thoughtful but it seems he was especially so this time as he selected some very choice music that is the latest fashion in London as a gift for me. No occasion, just something about it must have appealed to him and beckoned for him to purchase them for me. It was such a kind gift really and I thought at once, should not my husband's kindness ought to benefit as many as possible? Naturally, the answer was yes. Obviously, not everyone would have an interest or taste for music but I thought of you and your new pianoforte, thinking you, as something of an aficionado, would also appreciate new music to try your hand at," Emma told her with a pleased smile.
"They are beautiful transcriptions" Miss. Bates said with great excitement.
'Certainly, they must have taken you hours," Jane added looking over the careful copies. And they had for Emma was a little rusty at making copies, she had not had reason to since she was school aged, and so she was extra careful and for her, that meant becoming extraordinarily slow. It had not bothered her to spend the time, though she still had not finished her letter to Frank Churchill as a result.
"It was nothing," Emma told her waving off her consideration with the light shake of her head. "After all, it is only since I started practicing again that my husband has thought to gift me the sheet music. And it was playing with you at Mrs. Weston party that rekindled my desire to practice—more dedicatedly," Emma acknowledged tactfully, leaving out by omission her complete disregard for practicing prior to. "One might say, but for playing with you I would not have begun practicing as I do now, and my dear husband would not have purchased these songs at all! For this reason, the moment George gave me the gift of these songs, I thought of you and that you might like to share in the spoils! And as these new songs are direct from London and are said to be very popular, perhaps they might be just the thing to play at the next party?!"
"It is all too kind," Miss. Bates cooed, "You are too kind," she added then smiling brightly at Emma.
"Nonsense," Emma countered pressing her hand across the air as if to bat away the notion, "You are kind as well, for I have heard that the Stevens family is very excited about the end tables you will be gifting them," Emma announced changing the subject. "Mr. Stevens thought that he and his son would be able to pick up the end tables sometime tomorrow afternoon if that were an agreeable time, as they only work a half day in on Saturday, would that be an agreeable idea?"
"Yes, very much so—thank you, dear Emma, for seeing to all of that," Miss. Bates offered before rambling into a rather long montage of thanks and commendation.
It was after she had posted the letter to Frank, with a few inclusions of the events of the previous days that she walked on to the village, or what she had called the village since she was a little girl. The proper name was Hampton Street, but the name didn't really do the area justice. For although it could be said to be one singular street the houses and pathways had been there so long, long before much of the rest of Highbury had been built, and even before there was much in the way of rules for where a house should be or where a road must go. For that reason it was so much more like a village, with weaving pathways and houses close together in some spots and with wide gaps apart in others, gardens sometimes in the middle of where a street would logically go, so the path would scrawl around it and continue its long bending and winding journey. It was haphazard and wild, and perhaps that was why Emma had always liked it. It was nothing similar to the manicured and organized streets of Highbury proper.
She came here often, normally with a basket and often with Harriet in toe nowadays. In fact, it felt rather strange to be alone and without a basket, but she had promised the Stevens that she would check in.
"Hallo! Do come in," Alice Stevens had called promptly after Emma had knocked.
Their home was like a humble cottage but always very clean and well kept, and sometimes had the smell of freshly baked bread about it.
"I have come as you had suggested Alice, to see the new end tables, and how they do in their new home," Emma said cheerfully.
"Oh, they are so fancy, we really are not used to such finery but I've told the children that if we are to have them, then we are to use them but we will do the best we can to keep them in their polished way! They look almost like diamonds—mind you, I've never seen a diamond but I can image it is how they would look—my father had occasion to see one and he said it shone light out like a hundred stars,"
"They do look very nice as you have them situated, and I think it is exactly right to use them, for unlike diamonds they are not meant merely to be looked at!"
"And you have surely seen a diamond Miss. Woodh—Mrs. Knightley," Alice corrected with a genteel looking curtsy. "Would you say that that is a good comparison to how the tables sparkle?"
"Yes," Emma smiled, "I think it is a very good comparison and I know my friends the Bates will relish in hearing them described that way. How else do things fair here?"
"Oh, well the Stevens family is hale and hearty and we thank you—for we have a good memory to the times in the winter when we were in a pinch being sick and out of work, and you brought us many a kind thing in those baskets. We will never forget that, and although we are is a good way now that summer work is plentiful and even young James has been hired on for pulling rocks out of the farmer's field,"
"I am glad to hear it," Emma rejoined cheerfully.
"Yes, as are we. If you are looking to extend help, there is one family to my attention that is not in such a good place, perhaps you have heard of the family with the surname Bradley?"
"No, certainly I have not. What is it that you believe I might do for them?"
"It is a family much reduced in size, a real sorrowful tale. The new babe died a few weeks after it was born, the doctor had believed it to have some internal complaint, but that was almost a year ago now, but a few months ago the husband was killed at sea, there was a wreckage in a storm and over two hundred men were killed returning from the West Indies. The family is Welsh, or he was. I had heard when they moved here that he was from Cardiff and she was from Bristol I think; they had not been in Highbury for more than a few months when the baby died. I think they had hope that he might find work here instead but a seafaring man will always find work on the sea when nothing is coming up in town. It was just this spring, perhaps March or maybe April when word was received that he had died—one of the few confirmed, I suppose she is lucky in that way, for many were said to be lost at sea, but there was nothing to send home to the next of kin for solace," Alice continued.
"That is a horrible tragedy, I am very saddened to hear of it—and I am sorry I had not heard of it sooner, for things have been busier than normal."
"No need to apologize, Mrs. Knightley, for it had not seemed as bad as it does now, for in the earlier days following his death she had seemed to be coping better. She had piece work, for she is very gifted at needlepoint, but just recently she has taken sickly, they have no relations here, just she and the daughter,"
"If you will direct me to their lodgings I will return to them at once with a basket," Emma told her, feeling a sense of urgency, "How old is the daughter, I should like to bring her something special,"
"That is very thoughtful, her name is Amy and I believe her to be 5 or maybe 6,"
"And the mother's name?"
"Her name is Rachel Bradley, their lodgings are past the dugout, and on beyond the stables connected to the inn. There are rows of houses, there are seven houses all situated together in each row, they are the in the second row nearest the dugout and theirs is the house in the middle, with a green painted door,"
—-
Alright, tell me what you think! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as always please review as it makes me very happy!
A fun thing that I was looking at was where some of my readers are from! I love that!
I wanted to do a roll call and see if I can get a response! I'm so curious of who is who!
I'm starting by calling on some countries that have one or two readers!
Hey Singapore, Brazil, Sweden, Norway & Columbia! Thanks for reading, what is your favorite thing about Emma or just say Hi!
