Thanks for the reviews, mel and nefertari516! You two convinced me to continue (well, no, you more prodded me to continue, as I really like writing this story) and being my first story here, it really boosted my confidence.

But without further ado, here is chapter two:

- - -

Emma decided, the very next day, that as a friend, she was obliged to learn more about Miss Purkey and consult Mr. Knightley with her ideas and beliefs. It he was to marry (and the thought repulsed her quite too much to linger on), he might as well marry to his advantage, and being one of the wealthiest, most respected men in Highbury, there were few ladies eligible enough to prove worthy; and convinced, Emma resolved that her argument was perfectly in the right, and she worried no more about it.

But considering that if Mr. Knightley were to marry for love and love alone - well. Emma could not bear the thought of his degrading his level of propriety to an almost beggarly state, and in a fit of uncharacteristic anxiety on her part, immediately consulted Miss Taylor on the manner (though convieniently leaving out the man's identity). 'She was quite certain that a man of a large fortune and estate would marry for love, even if it was to his disadvantage. She would hope so, since it only increases the depth of his affections for her, and portrays his disinclination towards superficiality in a very good light.'

Rather than calming Emma's nerves, Miss Taylor's words left her in a state of inpenetrable shock, and she was inclined to believe (out of hopefulness more than anything) that since Miss Taylor did not know the object of her studies, was not suitable for advice and should therefore be ignored.

It seemed impossible to get any more information from John or Isabella on the subject the next day, even with her subtle clues and urging. Miss Purkey was obviously of no interest to them and Emma had to wonder if there was anything happening at all. Whatever the reason, Emma was anxious for Mr. Knightley's homecoming, where at Hartfield she could keep a watchful eye, and thanked the day that John and Isabella boarded their carriage and left for Randalls.

Emma then decided to consult her father on the matter, and in believable nonchalance she began the topic thus: 'Papa, have you heard of Lauren Purkey, by any chance? I remember her name from somewhere, but cannot recall where - it is quite irritating!'

'Miss Purkey?' asked her father with endearing obliviousness, 'Why, my dear, you met her at a ball some time ago! She was wearing that splendid lace dress - and you admitted to me how much you liked her, dress and all. She was very agreeable. I admire her very much.'

'I don't recall her,' Emma said flatly, trying to make it sound so, 'but I am sure she was very agreeable.'

Mr. Woodhouse beamed. 'Mr. Knightley could choose no better. The man deserves the very best - and I know how much you admire him, Emma, you must agree with me; I cannot wait to meet her!'

'Meet her!'

'My dear Emma! You have not heard the news? Mr. Knightley did not tell you? He's coming back and bringing her with!'

Emma felt weak. 'To Donwell Abbey?'

Mr. Woodhouse looked confused, as if his daughter's nature surprised him: 'Of course, of course, Emma! Where else shall she go?' Emma frowned and Mr. Woodhouse sighed, 'Oh, my dear, I know it will be hard to get used to having another lady around the house, but you must try.'

Emma nodded, as if this were really the circumstance she was concerned with. 'I apologise. I'm being selfish.'

Mr. Woodhouse looked shocked. 'Nonsense! You have not a selfish bone in your body.' Then, kissing her forehead affectionately, he walked from the room.

- - -

Emma had time to dwell on this, to her displeasure. She had called it on herself most effectively, rebuked as usual, but now, it seemed fairly obvious that her nature was inclined towards selfishness. She tried to tell herself it was not true - to listen to her father's good judgement (however biased it was) - but however much she attempted it, it was impossible. Well, perhaps it was not selfishness, exactly - no! She was looking out for a most dear friend, Mr. Knightley, and it was in her best interest to make - no, suggest - that he marry a respectable woman. That was all. Emma felt incredibly better afterwards. She would observe Miss Purkey that very night, and thus, judge whether or not she was right for him. It would be a most pleasing project.

Mr. Knightley came that very night, accompanied by none other than Lauren Purkey. As Mr. Knightley greeted her, Emma watched her. She was smiling pleasantly, looking very much pleased with her surroundings and doing much as a lady ought, complimenting their exquisite china and inquiring after Mr. Woodhouse's health with perfect sincerity. She even recalled Emma's name (to Emma's begrudging satisfaction) and told her she looked lovely, and that she was 'so very happy to see her, very pleased indeed, and that she had grown quite a lot since their last meeting!' Emma, stubborn as she was, only smiled and continued her scrutinization of her visitor. She had hair rather too reddish to compliment her companion's dark, her teeth were too white (almost dazzlingly so - quite distracting), she had only taken a bite of food, and she was too short to flatter Mr. Knightley's height, who towered a whole foot over her slim frame. The entire match was ill indeed, and despite their obvious mutual affection for each other, Emma thought that it was no more platonic than he had suggested. Lovers, indeed! School friends, at the very least! and Mr. Knightley was not that attracted to her, surely. She had a very sickly look about her. In fact, there was nothing that would draw him in but her pretty eyes, and that was a trait not uncommon in women. No, Emma mused, Mr. Knightley was not in love with her.

Looking past Miss Purkey, Emma saw Mr. Knightley watching her. She immediately busied herself with her food, trying not to look foolish, and answered Miss Purkey's statement of 'I hear you play the pianoforte very well, Emma,' with a modest reply and small smile.

'Surely you are too modest, my dear. George says you are talented, and you know how he is when it comes to compliments!' She ended this with a doting smile his way and a little laugh.

George? Emma fumed. 'Yes, I know.' I think I know him better than you, she thought splenetically, watching this lady's abhorring flirtation.

Mr. Woodhouse chimed in, 'Emma plays marvelously, Miss Purkey! Perhaps she could play us a tune after supper!' He glanced at Emma and asked, 'How about it, my dear?'

'I could not impose -'

'Oh, it would not be imposing, Emma!' cried Miss Purkey. 'In fact, George and I would be quite delighted. George?'

Mr. Knightley only nodded. Mr. Woodhouse beamed.

It was not until after supper, when Mr. Woodhouse and Mr. Knightley had sat down together and talked, that Miss Purkey disentangled herself from Mr. Knightley to speak to Emma. Emma had just sat down to her pianoforte and was sifting through her music when the lady approached. The meeting was not at all welcome; Emma's opinion of Miss Purkey was dropping every moment. Everything about her screamed vularity, unintelligence, and a kind of saccharine sweetness that left one's mouth feeling bitter.

Miss Purkey settled herself in Emma's line of sight, glanced momentarily in Mr. Knightley's direction, and said, 'I wish to speak to you, if I may.'

'You may,' said Emma shortly.

'Privately?' said she. 'May we take a turn about the garden while there's still light?'

Emma, though infinitely displeased with the idea, was curious as to what subject Miss Purkey needed to broach with herself, and agreed to the turn. She told the two men where they were going, her father insisted she wear her shawl, and they walked together out to the garden.

They had just taken a full turn around the garden when Emma had had quite enough: 'Miss Purkey, if you wish to speak to me, do so immediately. I'm afraid my patience is not so defined as yours.'

'Please,' said Miss Purkey warmly, 'please call me Lauren. I do so despise formality, and we are so much friends - sisters, if I may suggest - to discard the tradition. Do call me Lauren.'

'I'm afraid,' said Emma with forced smiles, 'that I could do no such thing. You are Miss Purkey, and Miss Purkey you shall remain. And being nearly ten years my elder should secure our formality, unless I am much mistaken. Now, then, what do you wish to speak to me about?'

Miss Purkey seemed quite taken aback by Emma's statement, but continued nonetheless. 'I suppose you could not help but notice George and my "connection" these past hours. I wanted to talk to you, because, being an old friend of his, I know that it is important for you to know these things - and if you have not heard the news or figured it out by now (for you seem a clever sort of girl), I would like to do the great honour of telling you myself; that George and I, we, that is -'

'You're to be married.'

Miss Purkey could not have hidden her blush even if she had tried. 'Oh. I had suspected that you would know. Did George tell you?'

Emma found that it was that simple question that pained her most. She was most effectively hiding sorrow when she said, 'No, I'm afraid Mr. Knightley did not tell me anything.'

'Oh,' said Miss Purkey blandly. She sounded rather foolish. 'As a friend of his, I thought that you might want to know.'

'Of course,' said Emma.

Miss Purkey said, 'Granted, it's not quite in place ...'

'Did Mr. Knightley not propose?' asked Emma; in her mind was a sliver of hope.

She shook her head. 'I'm sure he meant to - but my brothers ... Oh, Emma, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. George and I had discussed it quite some time ago - marriage, you know - but because of my father's ill health and my brothers' strong objections to the idea, we have not seen each other in nearly five years. You must have been nine years old - surely you do not remember?'

Emma shook her head and Miss Purkey continued: 'I finally convinced my brothers to let me see George, but now that I have ... he's ... not exactly himself. Now, do not fret - I do not mean in health; I mean to say that -'

At that very moment, the doors opened. Miss Purkey and Emma turned around.

'Ah, there you are, my dear! Time to come inside now - and you, Miss Purkey, I would not forgive myself if you caught cold!' Mr. Woodhouse ushered Miss Purkey inside, but Mr. Knightley stayed, and upon catching Emma's eye, meandered closer to her.

'I see you have been busy these past years, George, forming elopements with ignorant women,' Emma said icily.

Mr. Knightley looked sternly at her. 'Emma, that is uncalled for.'

'Uncalled for?' repeated Emma. 'She is a hateful, barbaric woman with no tact and little respectability!'

'Emma!'

'You have no idea of her relations! She could be a murderer! She could be plotting our deaths as we speak! Insufferable woman! It would not be unlike her to do so!'

Mr. Knightley looked simply furious with her.

Too riled up to stop, Emma said irritably, 'Mr. Knightley, as an unbiased opinion, you must appreciate my sincerity on the matter! As a friend, you have an obligation to listen to my judgement!'

Mr. Knightley frowned at her. 'And where does your judgement outdo mine? I am in charge of my own aquaintances, Emma. You are my friend, yes, but in the end, it is my choices that affect my life.'

'But her! Her of all people!' hissed Emma angrily.

'I cannot afford to listen to you, a girl barely fourteen, on this matter.'

Emma fumed, 'I am nearly fifteen, and even you have confessed to me your respect of my sense, Mr. Knightley! Can I not express myself to you on this matter? This lady is inferior to you in every way; she is certain of your affections, despite -' Emma paused uncertainly and continued furiously, 'And, without consent from you, she's making out that you and her are to be married!'

Mr. Knightley fixed a firm stare upon her, and so angry was his countenance that Emma looked away. 'Where did you hear that?'

'She brought me outside just now to tell me. Mr. Knightley, are you so blind to her faults that you cannot see the crass inclination of her ways? She meant to consult me on a matter of no understanding to myself, and having heard none of it from you -'

'Emma, that is quite enough,' snapped he. 'I quite feel your meaning. Speak no more.'

'Having heard none of it from you,' continued Emma with a dangerous flash of her eyes, 'I could only sit and listen with mortification. Did you ever mean to tell me that you were to marry Miss Purkey?'

'It cannot be surprising to you that I should marry someday,' said Mr. Knightley coldly.

'No, it cannot - but to a woman so grossly disagreeable in every possible way; I have to admit, I expected a woman of your aquaintance would be agreeable, and I dare say, elegant.'

At this point, Mr. Knightley said, 'Disagreeable to you, perhaps, because she derives attentions from you! Are you so spoiled as to think you my only object of affection? Emma, you amaze me.'

She clenched her jaw and turned away. How miserably did he misunderstand her! A pit of frustration was welling up in her stomach, and she felt so chafed by Mr. Knightley that she did not speak another word to him. She heard his angry footsteps retreat back into the house, but she did not follow, and it was only until she heard the sounds of Mr. Woodhouse's wishing them a good journey home did she come inside.

- - -

Mr. Knightley did not call on them the next day, which was not unexpected on Emma's part, and her dear father, ever amiable, was convinced that he and Miss Purkey were spending the day somewhere enjoying themselves 'as any young couple might.' Emma was inclined to believe differently, but did not mention this to Mr. Woodhouse, who would find it distressing, and Emma could not bear to distress her father in any way. In fact, only Miss Taylor noticed Emma's sullen mood, and in her quiet way, asked her about it. Emma disowned ever feeling unhappy, but as soon as Miss Taylor left the room, fell into a lapse of silent broodings, which did nothing to brighten her mood and everything to darken it.

Emma supposed she had been just slightly too cruel to Miss Purkey, but she had every justification, and if it were not for Mr. Knightley's disapproval, would have insulted her further still. Emma could not pinpoint exactly what she dispised so much about the woman, but that was not the point, so she dwelt no further on its mystery.

It was about a week from her argument with him that he appeared in the morning to inquire after the both of them, and especially, Emma found, to make amends to their friendship. As they strolled along the cobblestone walkway, admiring the lake and gardens, Emma said, 'Mr. Knightley, I believe you think me more a simpleton than you had thought before.'

'Why do you say that?'

Emma sighed. 'If I were older you would have paid me heed. But being my age, you tend to disregard me as a source of intelligence and therefore, I am just a silly girl to be lectured as you please.'

Mr. Knightley had the hint of a smile playing across his lips as he answered: 'Really? You surprise me. I often think of you as a guidance counselor and a very abudant source of intelligence. And you are indeed sometimes a silly girl, but you have wit, and I respect your opinion more than I think I should.'

'Ha! there, I cannot believe you.'

'You shall someday,' said he quietly.

Emma smiled playfully at him. 'I doubt that. You will still be there telling me what to do, but having me ignore you and do just as I please. I am, and will always be, under the sting of your disapprobation.'

He shook his head, smiling.

'But as we're on good terms now, I hope,' said Emma excitedly, 'I wish to speak to you of a most pleasing circumstance. Isabella and John are expecting another child!'

Mr. Knightley smiled. 'That is wonderful news, indeed! Did they tell you?'

'I noticed, actually.'

'Ah.'

In the silence that followed, Emma turned her eyes from his and said steadily, 'Do you think you shall marry Miss Purkey?'

Mr. Knightley was silent for a moment before saying, 'I think that I cannot possibly know the outcome of the future, Emma.'

'So you are not planning on it?'

He did not answer her. Emma continued to peer across the grounds.

'Where is she now?' asked she.

'Home in Bath; she sends her apologies that she could not say good-bye.'

Mr. Knightley faced her as he said so and smiled in amusement.

Emma crossed her arms. 'How very unfortunate. I'm sorry to hear that she could not manage to tear herself from darling George's clutches to say good-bye to such a friend.'

She raised an eyebrow at Mr. Knightley and spoke no more.