Chapter 9

Sway

Thank you so much for the kind words in the reviews of last chapter. As promised your reviews have encouraged a faster update. Here it is, enjoy!


She was mortified to think she had not only cried, not just in front of him—no that would have been a kind luxury but into his shoulder and onto his shirt. It was worse than that, in fact, she had been crying so hard, and in conjunction with the exhaustion from the day, she had fallen asleep.

The room with the torn down wallpaper must have been, in Mr. Knightley's mind a least, unfit for sleeping—several servants had moved the bed away from the wall and nearer to the fireplace to allow Emma access to the wallpaper behind it but other than that Emma had no complaint about sleeping there.

Emma woke before him by several hours, her eyes stung a little from the outburst the evening prior and her face felt tight from the dried saltwater from her tears. She found that they were sleeping in a room she did not recognize; warm wood finishing a mixture of forest greens and earthy tones that seemed more welcoming than hostile or cold. Her face still near the covers she could smell him in the fabric, it was Mr. Knightley's room-for it could be no other place. She tried to reflect on the day of the tour of the estate, and could not remember being shown his room, perhaps he thought it too forward in light of what it might have implied given that it was their wedding day.

She felt perhaps he had not intended her to be here. It may have been a place of solace, a spot reserved for him – perhaps evens as a bastion or reprieve from her. She sucked in a breath against the sting of her thoughts; she wondered if there were very many other places he hadn't included in the tour.

She left the room and as she had done many times at Hartfield she slipped into the kitchen to quietly make herself a cup of tea. Breakfast was many hours off and she had no desire to wake any of the servants. Tea in hand and with a buttered tea biscuit she had pilfered from the pantry she returned to Mrs. Knightley's room.

She expected to see a last remaining strip of grey paper showing where she had left off the previous day but was shocked to see that the work had been completed. Half of her felt pleased, that was the part that felt the tension and stiffness of muscles in her arms and shoulder blades from reaching, pulling at the paper, pumping water and carrying the water buckets. The other half felt usurped, that after all that effort she had not fully completed the task herself. It wasn't worth becoming vexed over, she cautioned herself. Certainly, she was in a mood as of late to find fault with almost anything Mr. Knightley said or did and she knew she ought to pick her battles wisely. Hurt feelings or high emotions aside, he was still the man who had given up the prospect of a real marriage for a false one, simply to keep her in Highbury and that was a debt she could never repay him.

She set a fire and set a kettle to heat some water from the wash pan so that it wouldn't be overly cold against her skin. She felt grimy but didn't think it would be proper for her to draw her own bath, the thought of pumping and carrying all that water was the biggest deterrent. She would bathe as soon as a maid would be able to help her.

After washing her face, chest, and hands she moved the sip her tea, eat her biscuit and look over wallpaper patterns from the samples.

It was as her hand reached to turn the page that she noticed she was not wearing the old stained chemise but a new one and one that she was certain she had never seen before. It had light almost ethereal embroidery on the sleeve and Emma had always selected the simplest styles as she had never seen much point in anything different for sleeping.

She wasn't sure she wanted to ask Mr. Knightley where it had come from. Perhaps he had bought it for her—but that seemed odd to her. She hadn't examined the collection of things that Mr, Knightley would have added to her trousseau. She had seen the Knightley family jewelry and ended her search after admiring them and then placing everything in the care of her lady's maid. She left the thought there and turned her full attention back to the paper options.

She had narrowed down her picks to a shortlist of paper patterns when Mr. Knightley entered the room.

"Will you take breakfast with me Emma?" he asked, looking at her closely as if examining for any damage since the last time he had been with her.

"I am sorry if my tears startled you Mr. Knightley, but do not let me keep you from your business –I know you like to keep yourself busy and that you have much to do. It was a weak moment and I am fine, truly." she encouraged before continuing, "I certainly shouldn't need to be mollycoddled, at least not as a daily affair," She offered weak humour in an attempt to keep her feelings of embarrassment at bay.

"Emma, I am asking you to take breakfast with me because I wish to have breakfast with you. It isn't because I am alarmed or looking to coddle you," he assured her.

"I look affright, Mr. Knightley, that fact could not have escaped your notice" she told him. "and I haven't bathed yet, and so I must warn you that I am liable to smell something fierce in proximity–possibly like a herd of cattle—but if all that has not scared you off, would you be willing to have breakfast in here and help me decide on a pattern?"

He replied in jest and his eyes sparkled lively and attentive, "Perhaps not a hold heard Emma, but only several cattle,"

She tossed the wrung out washcloth that she had used in an attempt to clean her nails at him and it connected squarely with his shoulder and he laughed.

"What I meant to say was that I would be honoured, milady," he said stepping from the room with an exaggerated bow.

In other circumstances, Emma would have defended their complex relationship. She would be the first to mention that they had many happy moments in between the banter, squabbles, feelings of annoyance and outright arguing.

At the moment she was too invested in winning the argument at hand to reflect on the fact that there was far more to their relationship than verbal sparring and disagreement.

Currently, all she could wonder was if he could even hear himself; was he even aware of what he was saying?

"I am not going," she told him bluntly, waving the invitation to the Cole's party in an agitated fashion.

Why had they even extended the invitation?

Everyone knew it was the proper thing for him to reject it!

In real society, in London, the Coles wouldn't dream of inviting a Knightley or a Woodhouse to their party. It was absurd. Even her father, as good as he was, as kind a soul as he was, would have been quick to reject the invitation. It was the proper thing to do. They were in trade for heaven sakes, what was next, going to tea with the miners at Hudson forge? Ironically, she felt she could stomach that better, she had no issues with entering the homes of the poor for charity's sake, but it was a whole different matter for those that were clawing up the social ladder and expecting their copious wealth to buy them acceptance and even favour from the important people in society.

No, that she would not stand for.

"Emma, I have always attended the Cole's party, I have no intention of changing that."

"Changing nothing! I don't care a whit about what you do but I am not attending," she tossed back shaking her head, she had suspected he might have attended the parties they hosted in the past, but it was never confirmed and she had never asked him about it directly. It had been mere speculation, based solely on the fact that he had never spoken ill of the fact that the Coles always sent invitations to the Woodhouses and Knightleys.

"It is the first function for us as a married couple, I cannot attend alone because we have an image to uphold," he explained, rubbing his temples as if it pained him to explain the intricacies of the situation to a wayward child.

"Ah Yes! Bravo! He finally understands the premise of the thing!" Emma exclaimed full of fabricated excitement and steeped with heavy sarcasm, "We have an image to uphold, the very reason we should, based on every principal, reject their invitation!"

"I have always attended. And if you must know Emma, it has been incredibly profitable for me to work closely with and to maintain good relations with the Coles; it is good business sense. They are well connected, wealthy and have impeccable manners. You do them an injustice to ignore them and to consider them your inferior. And since I do count the family among my friends, I will not disrespect my friends by rejecting their invitation with no other grounds than pleasing my wife and feeding her vanity. I am steadfast on this point and I will not have the fact that I am married sway me on it. It is important to me and regardless of what you may believe it is not detrimental to our image in Highbury. Perhaps in London things might be different but many of your friends in Highbury regularly attend parties hosted," he spoke, she felt like laughing in the middle of his monolog but held her tongue in check until he was finished.

"You think I have the power to sway you? Balderdash! That is the silliest thing I've ever heard. No, you are not the sort to allow me any such power over you. In fact, I think you have always taken a good degree of pride in admonishing me at every turn, be I right or wrong. I think you get far more pleasure from saying 'No Emma,' than you would from any positive phrase in the English language," She began, flicking her eyes to his to witness his reaction. His entire face looking smoldering and angry—some part of her liked seeing the evidence that her words had struck, proven in the fact that she could stir a reaction from him. "You know that it is not right for you or me to accept an invitation from the Coles, and you want to make it seem correct by watering the thing down and making excuses for it. It is easier to paint me as vain than it is to admit that you are actually the one in error. And in this Mr. Knightley, you are in error. I know this isn't London and I have speculated for some time that many others might attend the Cole's parties—and yes they are wealthy, absolutely they would be lucrative business connections but all these things together do not make it right. I am not a follower, Mr. Knightley; I walk my own path, as lonely as it might be at times. I have not attended a party hosted by the Coles or anyone in trade for that matter and I have never entertained or sought entertainment from anyone below my station and lineage in my entire life. Carolyn Knightley would not have attended this party and Emma Knightley will not attend either. You will not make me," Owning her new name and ignoring the fact that it felt foreign on her lips and she darted her eyes back up to once more see what result it had on him.

His whole continence appeared fiery and most of all his eyes. Everything about his face was flamed with a well-bridled passion, and for the most part, it was a face that she was used to. They, although friends, feuded often and perhaps the only difference now was that the stakes were higher. In the past, they would merely agree to disagree and Mr. Knightley would make his choice and Emma hers in the opposite direction. Now it seemed that due to the fact that their names were linked forever, it was necessary that they think the identically on each subject and come to a strong agreement about what they should do in each circumstance.

It was enough to give her a headache.

"You make me sound like an ogre Emma," he tossed back, walking across the room at a clipped pace. He did pace, always in an argument—as if his head couldn't form thoughts or his mouth could not articulate them unless he was in motion. "Be at ease, ogre or not I am highly certain that you have never been made to do a thing you didn't wish to in your entire life! Were I you, I would not worry my pretty head that someone such as I would be able to offset the track record!" he retaliated with his own brand of sarcasm.

Emma fully ignored him, moving on to her next statement.

"In addition, you declined my request to host my own party and yes, in hindsight I do see that was sensible, I had foolishly overlooked the timing of things. However, I do not think it would be any better received should I attend this party," she maneuvered, changing tactics subtly with practiced finesse.

"I disagree entirely; the two are completely different things. This is to be a party with some dancing for entertainment. In contrast, you would have hosted the grandest party of the year. You have a new name to uphold and you have a vested interest in aggrandizing Donwell. You would have had no choice but to be extravagant for the reasons that follow: it would be the first party at Donwell in at least a decade; it would also be the first party you have hosted as mistress here and the first event as my wife. All things considered, you could not do something understated and to do anything extravagant would bring social judgement, disdain, and ridicule. The two are not the same and you are simply being ornery if you see fit to disagree," he stated.

"I am not being disagreeable out of sheer obstinacy!" Emma protested grating her hands through her hair in frustration. The endless cyclical verbal brawling, this man would be the death of her she swore it.

"I am not a disagreeable man by nature; ask anyone I conduct business with! I do not take pleasure in disagreeing with you but there are many occasions that we do not agree and we must work together to come to an agreement,"

"And let me guess, in your imaginings of this novel arrangement, will agreement always mean that I am the one changing my mind?" She bit out, asking her question with a harsh growl and feeling a sudden urge to stomp her feet in rebellion as well.

"On this point, I am asking you to change your mind," he told her, "In the future, and you know as well as I that there will be a plethora of other occasions, it will be you asking me to change mine," he explained. "Just as you changed my mind when you asked me to marry you—you convinced me, Emma,"

"Oh is that the toted example of a shining success? What is that, accommodation at its finest? I should think you would pick a better example, at least one with an outcome that you aren't repulsed by," she snapped.

"I am not repulsed by it! Do not twist this in a petty attempt to win an argument!" he challenged back motioning to the space between them as he spoke, she couldn't help but notice the brightness of his eyes and how adamant he appeared when he spoke of their arrangement.

He sighed, "Emma, I need you at my side. I am not above bribery—you may have a new dress made and I will borrow the Phaeton carriage again from my friends in London,"

"Mr. Knightley, exactly how silly do you think I am?" She began rhetorically, she was certain as he was looking directly at her that he would indeed see the venom in her expression. "You forget that the Cole's party is the one party that it would not be remiss to arrive on horseback! If you are set that I shall join you I will do so but then it is my expressed wish that we will ride on horseback. I have a dress that I will wear—I have no intention of being bribed or of throwing good money after bad in having a dress made especially for the occasion!"

"As you wish, Emma. But please understand that borrowing the Phaeton is not something I can arrange last minute. Be certain that this is what you wish, and I will take this as confirmation of our transportation plans for the evening and from this point forward you will not be able to change your mind about the Phaeton, though a standard carriage is always an option should it rain,"

"I am not fickle Mr. Knightley, I have never been quick to change my mind and I will see that we ride horses regardless of the weather, after all, it is only the Coles and I cannot imagine that they would expect better from most of their guests,"

"Emma," he hissed at her last comment. She should keep a record of the different tones he used when he said her name and the different meanings behind each specific intonation. This one she would obviously mark down under vexed.

"You should not be the one that is angry Mr. Knightley, you've won this battle," she informed him. "Do not disturb me, I need some time to myself," she called back over her shoulder exiting the room and planning to work in the garden. She felt so annoyed with him, she had half a mind to prune all the wrong branches on his trees. She wouldn't do it, but she might smile a little at the wicked thought of it and the imagining of his forlorn face looking outward at the garden.

Yes, she was a woman of simple pleasures it would seem.


Sorry guys, the feud continues! Give me your thought, feeling, and options! I love hearing about what you liked, disliked-are they still in character? Is anything missing that you would like to see from them? Leave a review and I'll adore you and possibly write faster!

Anyways, the next chapter is in the works and it is brilliantly fun (in my opinion) and I can't wait to be able to share with you!