Chapter 30
Of Agreements & Strawberries
"Donwell was famous for its strawberry-beds, which seemed a plea for the invitation; but no plea was necessary; cabbage-beds would have been enough to tempt the lady, who only wanted to be going somewhere." - Emma
John was having his morning meeting with the prospective tenants, or rather the father, who was said to be much younger than Emma could have expected. He was the younger son of a family by the surname of Sutton. A family who Emma was not familiar with because she had not traveled widely, but they were said to reside toward Warwickshire. Even George Knightley had not known him personally, nor the older brother who inherited the estate along with the lion's share of the late father's inheritance. Although he at least had known the family name and that they were of good stock and an old name in those parts.
This young father, if the terms of the lease were thought acceptable and if John found him amiable enough to consider letting the Hartfield to him and his family, would bring with him a young wife (of an age nearer to Emma than to Isabella)and a young son not yet three and a daughter who was still a babe.
If it were agreeable, Emma could not see how it would not be, and in truth, she was not sure what to wish over the situation. She did not mean to wish this party, a young family of good reputation away but nor did she wish to give up Hartfield entirely.
She twisted her hands together in her lap as if contorting them at all could bring her a portion of peace.
"You are nervous," George reflected.
"I am not sure what I am," she told him honestly. "I may say I am as eager as I have ever been to see John back so that I may ask him all about it," she admitted.
"Yes, I'm sure he will be back sometime before lunch, which will feel soon enough if you were well enough distracted," he told her. "Have you thought of reading to take your mind off it?" he asked.
"Reading?" she said, "Do you even know me but a little? Who are you and what have you done with my husband?" she asked dryly.
"Well, in my defense you do have the ever-pressing list of 100 titles, rather unchanged for what, five – nay, six years?" he told her, "It isn't to say you've never considered the idea of reading something,"
"Yes, I did read part of Dante's Inferno but then put it down, I'm sure the same is true of a handful of others on the list, it wasn't to say I never read anything –merely that nothing was read to fruition," she added.
"Ah, well if you are ever looking for something to distract perhaps the first half of one of the books on that list, that way you wouldn't put it off the list all together but might say you did read something at least a little," he told her, half truthful, half smirking.
"Are you teasing me George Knightley?" she asked, moving around his armchair to inspect his face which was full of all the furnishing of a laughing grin. Somewhat to her chagrin, she never had enjoyed him laughing at her.
"I meant to get your mind off of it, is it working?"
"Certainly, but with perhaps the unintended consequence of making me wish to wipe the smile from your face with your kerchief because you are laughing at me," she told him.
"I am not laughing at you. I am laughing with you," he offered.
"Would I not have to be laughing as well for that logic to stand?" she asked, a brow arched, moving to flop into the adjacent armchair with more of the boneless style of a petulant child than that of a refined lady of one and twenty.
"You would be laughing if you had less of the Woodhouse pride," he told her.
Then her back was ridged and she leant forward, looking a tad revolted, "Oh and now you will say you are distracting me as a Spanish matador does a bull, you know nothing gets my ire up as much as insinuating flaws with my Woodhouse lineage, but perhaps that posits the wellbeing of the Woodhouse pride in and of itself," she sighed out. She knew if she hadn't felt so flummoxed internally that she would not be so easily aggravated at the slightest thing.
She stood and pressed down her skirts in an effort to smooth any wrinkles or creases that may have transpired; though she needed not, her dress was so well starched the fabric hadn't really altered in the processes of slouching, sitting and standing. "I'm feeling so exceedingly agitated, and thinking on it, it really isn't right to inflict my personality and presence on you, George," she told him honestly.
"Emma," it was his turn to sigh. This use of her name was soft and so quiet it was hardly vocalized at all—had she not been standing right next to him she would scarcely have heard it. But she did hear and she took it to mean that he felt sorry.
"No, don't feel badly, it isn't your fault and I know that you do try but I think I'm in an impossible mood and I don't want it to reflect badly on either of us, for your teasing makes me grumpy when I know full well of other times where I would be happily chattering back like a Yellow-naped Amazonian Parrot," she confessed. "I'm going to go for a visit; it will surely take my mind off of things,"
"Emma, it is not yet past 10 in the morning," he reflected, Highbury was not the sort of place where one dropped in on friends' unannounced.
"Yes, I'll go to the village," she told him, moving nearer to him to drop a kiss on his cheek. She kept her hand gently under his chin and looked him right in the eye as if to impart the understanding that she was not angry with him. She knew that he meant well, she knew it and she did not want him to think she was going off irritated with him. He tried his best to distract her but it wasn't the happy charm she would have needed to do the trick. She knew where to find just such a person and she'd bring a basket for the girl and her mother. "I'll bring a basket, and nothing cheers me up as fast as doing just that," she admitted, rubbing her hand along his cheek before stooping to kiss the other cheek. "I will hopefully be back sometime after John has returned, likely after the lunch hour," she told him.
She was a few paces away when he asked her, "Should you like to take a carriage?"
And she would not know how silly he felt as the word left his mouth. He knew she took such enjoyment in walking, and yet the idea of her walking alone for some reason bothered him suddenly; the notion never had before. Perhaps it was her sullen nature and sallow mood; perhaps he felt one attitude was sure to bring about another much of the same.
"That isn't necessary," she told him.
"Should you like Mary or one of the kitchen maids to walk with you?" he asked, he'd never insert his own company, especially not after the way of this morning. She needed her space, but it didn't mean pure isolation.
She returned a few paces "No, I'll do very well alone, and I appreciate your concern, you needn't worry and I'll be back well before tea, hopefully with my mood much restored," she told him, pressing her lips, kissing his quickly and turning quickly from the space, a blush undoubtedly staining her cheeks.
She should have known that was all it would take to take her mind to another place. As she loaded the basket she felt a little more out of sorts, she thankfully noticed she had the bread and soft pastries at the bottom before she began adding the heavier fruits and vegetables on top of them. She avoided them being crushed under the other goods.
Oh, she was now agitated for another reason entirely, her walk wasn't wasted on thoughts of Hartfield but on what she had just done. Had she done a wrong thing? Had she inadvertently toppled their carefully built relationship with a thoughtless kiss? For it was one thing to press a kiss to his cheek as she had her dear papa, but truly another to press that same kiss to his lips.
And like a true fool, she had not even paused long enough to witness his reaction, was he shocked? Had he grimaced? Did he wear to look about him of one who was wary of having the task to present bad news? She groaned.
She had only wanted to comfort him. That, and then it had just happened. It may have been the draw of months gone by, all of those moments sketching him, thinking on his visage, contemplating his lip line, the robustness of his mouth, how they looked in every shade of peach and nougat, doodling them with every passing moment of distracted fancy.
She was hurrying away so quickly with her basket that she noticed she had stirred up a sweat. How unladylike, how unrefined, she slowed her pace to the village and was grateful for the light wind that cooled her—if not her mind, at least her body.
Maybe he hadn't really noticed. That thought was comforting, maybe he didn't have the same sort of thinking that she did. Obviously to her to kiss his cheek was entirely different than to press her lips to his. But maybe he didn't think—
She let out a deep exhale, she couldn't entertain the logic she found there. He wasn't an idiot, at very least he would distinguish the difference. As a true gentleman, he probably wouldn't say anything about it and thankfully John and Henry would be there until tomorrow to present a temporary cushion.
Emma knew she was right to make the trek to the village the moment she saw Amy Bradley's face.
"Emma!" The girl said delightedly, embracing her is a hasty hug. Amy's smile stretched practically from ear to ear and it was truly contagious for Emma found her own mimicked it almost at once.
"I have missed you," she told her, "for the other day you sent another person to bring a basket and I was so disappointed." She said, "For the girl that brought it said she was needed back and that she couldn't spare a minute to play,"
"I am sorry, I thought at least in my absence you would know that I had not forgotten about you and your mother, have the doctors been again recently to see her?—" Amy's face looked a little bit sullen then and Emma wholeheartedly regretted the question, she should have set her efforts to take the girls mind off of the circumstance, not to force her to retell it.
"She remains very tried," the girl answered. "The doctor has a few ideas, but said I should not be here for them and that a nurse would need to be at the cottage all hours to administer the dosages and remain here 'round the clock with a keen and watchful eye."
"Thank you Amy, I'll get a report from Dr. Hughes and Mr. Perry," she told her, and she did not like seeing the little girls face so grave and so changed from the radiant smile of earlier, she wished to fix her mistake, for she should not have treated the little girl as a grown-up and asked about the mother in so flippant a fashion, "And if you don't mind, now we will simply play,"
And they did, and Emma even took lunch with her and they both ate apples from the basket and bread with a hearty amount of cheese and butter.
"I'll talk to the physicians; they must know that you would be welcome to stay at my home at Donwell while your mother undergoes the proffered treatment, if that is the only hesitation, then it will be easily solved for," she told the girl.
"Thank you, Emma, much of what they say I do not understand, but I am only six so I think that it isn't really my fault," she confessed looking sad.
"Oh, of course, it isn't. I am certain much of what they say I would not understand, for they are very learned, they have taken up much schooling and information on the topic of wellness. It would not do for an untrained person, such as you or me, to understand everything they have come by years of learning and experience. No, I say it is quite a good thing that you and I have much that we do not understand."
And that seemed to appease the little girl, and Emma thought that in a few days she must speak with George about the idea. She would also speak to Dr. Hughes and Mr. Perry and ascertain the sort of timeline this treatment would take, the severity of it, the possible dangers and if or when they envisioned the best point to begin.
Emma hadn't thought a second about Hartfield, since leaving from Donwell that morning, upon returning John was back and eager to share all.
It felt to Emma as if she were pulled in and out of the conversation, one moment she was listening to and understanding John perfectly, the next she was abstracted, thinking about the situation of what remained of the Bradley family.
"I put in a stipulation for you Emma, rather it was my brother's idea,"
She was pulled to attention at her own name.
"Pardon me?" she said, looking a little foggy to anyone that knew her general gaze and complexion.
"A stipulation, it means a clause or requirement," John explained, thinking that she was not understanding the meaning. "It was entirely George's idea, I take no credit, but that effect of it is that you retain the rights to oversee the ground and the conduct of the groundskeeper, it would be within your prevue to replace the groundskeeper if ever it was required with a person of your choosing. You will also have two days a week, set days mind you, such as a Tuesday and Thursday whereabouts, should you have the inclination you will be at liberty observe the grounds, tend to the garden if needed and make recommendations to the groundsman. You will also retain the right to split bulbs and transplant flowers to or from the gardens at Hartfield as the season permits, under the care of the groundskeeper, to any location of your choosing."
Emma nodded mutely; it was all too much information too rapidly for her current state of mind.
George took it up, "That means if you would like to make a garden at Donwell from the overabundance of Hartfield, you might plan to do that beginning in the fall if you desired it. I have already had William Larkin draft a plan for such a space; we would remove some of the lawn to make way for another flower bed all its own. You'll have to look at the tentative plan and see if the shape, placement, and layout is to your liking,"
"That is a very good idea, thank you both of thinking of it and for implementing it, I am very much gratified," she said, but her persona was impossibly tranquil.
Both brothers glance at each other silently agreed to say nothing about her despondence and continued with their meal. John was talking idly about London and the practice of law, and George rejoining with the conversation about infinitesimal changes on his estate, the orchard, and plans for expansion. Even Henry seemed to play along, for he ate heartily, and without saying anything and made no complaint about any of the food items on his plate.
It was not to say that they avoided each other, for they did not. But rather that neither mentioned anything about the kiss Emma had bestowed upon him.
Perhaps what Emma thought was her silliest of thoughts had been correct, maybe he really had not noticed. Perhaps what was for her was dramatically obvious, had not registered with him in the same way.
That was for the best, she would not have wanted to do anything to overturn their happy existence, she was not one to trade comfort for chaos and she knew in kissing him she had taken that risk. After all, he was the same man that had all but told her he would not want her in that way back when they were in London.
She had other things on her mind.
Dr. Hughes was not able to meet with her until few days after her visit with Amy. The doctor had been at a seminar in London hosted by doctor Astley Paston Cooper—he told her directly, he feared doing nothing far more than the risks of trying something to aid Mrs. Bradley. He said his resolve was all the more after attending the lecture in London, the modern era of medicine was upon us and it was all being pushed forward by men like doctor Astley Paston Cooper, willing to take risks so that their patients might recover. "Having spoken to Paston Cooper, I have more well-rounded ideas of what we might try for Mrs. Bradley; he agrees with my thoughts and also thinks we might find some success to draw the toxins out of the body. It will not be what one would deem an enjoyable thing, and to inflict and observe it will seem perhaps cruel, but we are hoping to bring her through the horrors of this illness so that she might recover, into perfect wellness with no memory of the terrors of the time that came before,"
Emma told him he had her full support, financially and with respect to a household for Amy while the treatment was underway.
"Then let us plan for midweek of next week, it will take a few days for the supplies to be made ready and for me to procure the correct nurse for the task—in all likelihood I will hazard another trip to London for that task, as we do not have the same selection in the rural areas and it will be very important that the nurse has had as much experience as possible with the topic and our stratagem."
It was settled, Emma placed it in her mind. It would be the outing to Box Hill and then on Wednesday the treatment would commence.
Emma had experienced dreams in the night the evening before the gathering and it was ominous indeed. It was vivid thunderclouds, clashes of lightning, torrential rain and the most violent tempest to rival anything envisioned by Shakespeare himself. She woke up certain of one thing, the day was ruined and they would have to call the whole thing off on account of the rain, inclement weather and the mire left in its wake.
Upon actually waking or perhaps upon George's insistence that nothing was the matter and that the skies were clear and there had been no storm through the night, she came to understand that it had all been only a dream and that the weather was actually perfect for the occasion. The day would go on exactly as she had planned.
If the weather was perfectly dry for their day as of the morning, then Mrs. Elton assuredly was the one thing that put a damper on the party, well if not the entire party then on poor Jane Fairfax.
The woman was truly impossible, Emma thought to herself.
On normal circumstances, Emma was an efficient strawberry picker. It was just her nature, not only to select only the best and truly prime berries but also to aim to fill her basket more quickly than the others pickers. It may have been called a competitive spirit, she wasn't altogether sure of the source.
If it had been the year prior, she would have started by gathering just enough fresh berries to bring a plate of washed and hulled strawberries to her father. She would have spent a few moments in Donwell kitchen, with no doubt Mr. Knightley looking over her shoulder as she washed and hulled the berries, removing the stems with a paring knife while he assured her that he had a kitchen maid that would do it without a moment lost for the trouble. She would have certainly ignored him, dried the berries carefully with a tea towel and then would have brought the plate to her father where he sat in Mr. Knightley's study by a blazing fire, with books surrounding and he would likely have been looking over Mr. Knightley's shadow box of pinned dragonflies or some other such fascination.
As it currently was, she had started quickly picking berries and had only increased in gusto the more Mrs. Elton talked.
"Emma, you must agree that we must help Jane find a suitable occupation," she announced, leaning low to gently take a berry from the vine, inspect it as if she had never seen a strawberry on the plant before and then carefully remove it with a few twists and tugs, looking at it again before placing it in her basket. She was laxidasical and slow –the perfect opposite of Emma's swift, efficiency. That was why Mrs. Elton had a grand total of three strawberries and Emma's basket was a quarter full. Well, that was partial why. Emma felt it a deplorable thing to eat a strawberry while picking, it showed a lack of self-control, an inability to learn self-denial and a propensity for instant gratification. While Emma waited until the task complete to taste the fruit of her labour, Mrs. Elton seems to put two in her mouth for each one that ended up in the basket. Unfortunately, it did not seem to diminish her talking, for she seemed to think that as they were out of doors it was permissible to talk between mouthfuls.
She a lot exclaimed zealously about the deliciousness of the fruit, almost smacking her lips as she did so, "Why! How sweet and flavorful. Oh, yes these are stupendous! I see exactly why this is the prize berry patch in the county, I don't think I have tasted a berry so fresh and vibrant in all my life," she boasted.
It would have been one thing if she had only said it the first she tasted but she felt it needed to exclaim with similar verisimilitude every other berry she ingested. It was taxing rather quickly.
Mrs. Elton oscillated between praising the deliciousness of the berries, Mr. Knightley for inviting them and God for creating the patch and berries in general and then switching back to entreating Jane to think about her situation. It was all rather tumultuous.
"You'll need an occupation Jane," she warned.
"I know, and I understand this perfectly and I am grateful for your care of me, however, I had thought it best to have the summer here and then to advertise at the end of the fall season or perhaps in January,"
"Oh, no the fall or January will be much too late!" Mrs. Elton protested, "tell her that you agree with me, Emma!"
Emma fought against rolling her eyes and instead focused on lifting a few leaves to retrieve a berry that appeared a well-hidden gem. Instead, she inquired of Jane, "Why is it that you think to the Fall season or perhaps the new year?"
"Oh, well I feel as if I have only just come to Highbury and it has been so long since that I have really known my kin, and in staying here I am reminded of how precious it is and it has only just begun to feel more like my home and it seems so short-lived that I should be torn from it so quickly and for some other unknown posting some unknown distance away where I will remain some unknown duration of time," she told her.
"Oh and certainly your Aunts will miss you," Emma promised. And Jane smiled back, a perfectly pleasant smile.
"Oh but you must not think of them! You must think of yourself!" Mrs. Elton insisted, "And what you must think about is the jobs that are out there for governesses at this present moment! As with anything, there is a season that is best, when the choice families are looking for teachers for their children, it is in the summertime I assure you! It is in the summertime, while pupils holiday that these selections and changes to their previous governesses and tutors are made. For in other times of the year it would interrupt the children's studies –and those, those sudden changes where governess has quit a post midyear, well those are the very ones you will find available in the winter or late fall. Ask yourself this Jane, do you want a job that is available because the predecessor has fallen through? Do you want a job that is available because the master of the house was too familiar and the governess before you left like a thief in the night to escape that fate? Do you want the situation with children so terrible that the last holder quit the post without seeing through the remainder of the school year? No, no, no. I answer these for you, you certainly do not," she said firmly.
"Surely there are other reasons that a family might be hiring at any time of the year," Jane said softly, it was a challenge to Mrs. Elton's statement but it was worded eloquently and spoken so gently that it almost did not seem one.
"No, there are not –or at least not as a general rule," Mrs. Elton attested and Emma questioned what exactly made her the expert on the topic. "I will put together a list for you, perhaps Mrs. Knightley might add to it but it will be of respectable families in our acquaintance that are looking this summer for a governess, and it would be best for you to take up the list and send out correspondence right away for these really will be the best of families and I see your nature, Jane. You are a wonderful character, with great talent and potential and you would deserve these fine families as much as they would deserve you to be of service to teach their young children. But in order to realize this future, you must not hesitate a single moment for it is to be there and gone in a flash I assure you! These families are the most respectable of families in the whole country and they will be looking eagerly to fill the post and it is possible that there are others with equally as much gentility and accomplishments as you have, and they might be quicker and you may have your bread and provision snatched right out from between your fingertips before you see it dawn upon you," Mrs. Elton said and this sounded almost like a promise. "I'm sure my dear husband would agree when I say let us not forget the biblical saying 'ye have not, because ye ask not'!" She added as if she had not said enough already and now she needed to really press it in.
Jane looked positively grey when Emma looked up from her own basket to take in her features; it was not simply the contrast from the bright and brilliant strawberries to the dull and dreary looking girl's face—no Jane Fairfax looked almost ill, and it was something set upon her, for she had not looked the colour or countenance prior to the conversation with Mrs. Elton. For this reason, Emma knew the source and likely the impetus for the girl's dismal thoughts and facial expression that belayed them.
"I'd like to walk about and see the gardens if you don't mind," Jane said, looking to Emma for approval.
"Go right ahead, see everything you'd like, in fact, all of Donwell is at your disposal for exploration, but pray, do not get lost," she told her, wanting anything for the sad face to have enough time away from Mrs. Elton to regain its normal status and hue.
"I'll stick to the paths common enough," Jane assured, putting down her basket, barely half-filled on the table that was near the entrance of the strawberry garden, Emma had placed it there for just such a purpose.
"We really must encourage her to make sensible decisions. I would hate to see her throw away good chances and she will not have much of a life here, nor can she remain with her aunts for very long without weighing heavily upon them," Mrs. Elton said with Jane having exited earshot.
Emma hurried her pace and efforts to fill her basket so that she might quit the conversation without it being a source of personal injury or any such speculation.
Okay, this is as close as I could get them to Box Hill in a single chapter in almost 5,000 words! As you have noticed we have combined the strawberry picking and the trip to Box Hill. Box Hill proper is the next chapter! Yay!
A big thanks to Laina Lee not only for being such a consistent reviewer and positive contributor to this story but also full credit for the idea of including the flowers in the terms of the lease. I loved the idea to include a clause for the flowers, such a great idea—I could see George thinking up this idea and John agreeing with it and into the mix it went!
Thanks all for the review. I so appreciate it!
Ask me any questions, give me your opinion or requests! Tell me any thoughts pertaining to this story or this specific chapter-how we doing?
Do you all hate me for how their first real kiss was portrayed?
I want to hear it all!
Till next time!
