Chapter 13
Exchange
"Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love."
― Jane Austen
June 9th, 1815
Dear Mr. Frank Churchill,
Thank you for sending me correspondence. It was a privilege to receive post courtesy of Yorkshire. As is not often that I receive post from farther afield than London, It was with very great delight that I received post all the way from Yorkshire. So great in fact that it was absolutely painstaking to wait until afternoon tea to show the post to my husband, although I learned later that he had no wish to read—it was a battle of the will and a great lesson in patience to be sure!
And to the main question of your letter, I would be honoured to make a standing arrangement to take tea with Mrs. Weston at a set time and day of the week. Thursday seems the most agreeable and I have already asked, and this suits all. I will be there at tea time every Thursday to be—I believe buffer was that the word you had for it. So should you call on the Weston's house Thursday at afternoon tea it will be a more agreeable time, there is a guarantee that you would be more comfortable and more at ease as you are sure to know at least one people and have one friend among the family. It would please me greatly to provide you this service and I hope it is not too many teas that are taken in your absence. For I do know that you are kept at bay by some emotion or another, but I must insist that your stepmother, Mrs. Weston, and your father are dear sweet people who have only your best interest at heart. And you must know that they adore you completely from a distance and I assure you that I am completely certain that this sentiment will be more evident in proximity. It will be a great honour to be a part of the reunion between you and your father and I hope it is not much longer for he is a man who talks of little else than of the happy prospect of seeing you again.
With respect to the lady you mentioned at the party, I find myself abundantly curious. What is she like? You said at the party that you did not even like her at first. What changed your mind and opinion? What is it that made you fall in love with her?
If the last question is too forward for our current level of friendship I understand. I would prefer that you leave it out in your reply—do not let it prevent you from responding. It is not merely gossip or information to me; I am genuinely intrigued about this topic. What is it that allows a person to fall in love with another person? Is it always the same? For instance, what would allow my husband to love me? What should the basis of such a feeling be? Is it different for every sort of person? I do not expect you to be an expert on the subject, but that you might have the potential to offer some clue from your own personal experience. Once, more do not allow my question to delay a response if the subject is not to your comfort or liking. If nothing else you are simply a person who has been let in on my wonderance of late.
I do look forward to hearing from you and perchance seeing you at some Thursday or another at Randalls for tea in the not too distant future.
With sincerity your new friend,
Emma
June 11th, 1815
Dear Emma,
Thank you for saying so. It is relieving to know that there is at least one person counting on and encouraging my visit. And I do not for a moment think that you are the only one, for I am certain that you are right, that my father and Mrs. Weston would be overjoyed to see me and I will aim, in so far that I am able, to expedite the process so that they are not kept waiting with a large amount of angst. It would bring me great joy to see my father happy and it is my expressed wish that this endeavour should not be a time consuming commitment on your part. Although I recall you mentioned that Mrs. Weston is a close friend, I do not wish to overstep or inconvenience you or keep you in suspense. I have the notion that you are not one to appreciate the idea of suspense.
As for the other matter I have no issue confiding in you the nature of my feelings and the inspiration behind them.
She is a woman above reproach who I am continually more impress by with every moment I spend in her company. What I once thought shyness is a magical, reserved quiet. It is judicious rather than ignorant —it is not that she lacks intellectual things to say. Her variety of quiet is tranquility it is thinking, it is regal and it is dainty. In her expression she is aware, unassuming and tirelessly patient. And when you do hear her speak, let me assure you it is well thought out, in the most magnificent of ways. She is creative—to hear her tell a story—relaying a real story or something of fiction it is quite something, transfixing even. It is a gifting really and while she is reserved in her words it is just that she has weighed each so carefully—it is a practical response as if it were wasteful to be superfluous and she has a fierce economy. And because she doles each word out with careful intentionality, each words seems more precious to my ears than the words of any other person. As she is not wasteful, I find I am increasingly eager to know what she will say, to know what it is she thinks—a true idea of supply and demand I dare say. Followers of Smith would be invigorated I dare say to hear me talk of it.
She is brilliant really—she is witty and impossibly clever. And her is remarkably good—her kindness knows no bounds. She is a good person to everyone and means no harm or foul to any. She has never had an enemy in her life and I am convinced that many would have believed her a rival but she is above it, far too good for that sort of petty nonsense.
She has not known great wealth in her life and she is economical in how she dresses but she is radiant none the less. Sit her next to any number of grand beauties of all sorts of wealth and income and they would pale in comparison to her. For some people, their eyes will catch the sparkle off of the earrings or the necklace of some grand lady and they will believe that it is she that sparkles. It is amazing how easily it is possible for people to be convinced that it is the lady that sparkles when in actuality it may have nothing to do with the light in her eyes, or the beauty of her countenance but instead the glint of a gilded adornment intended to make up for the lady's lack of the former two. Or perhaps it is the kind words others have spoken of her—such as that others have said that she is pretty, well then she must be pretty, mustn't she? No my darling sparkles in only the most authentic of ways and many might miss it, she is not the centre of attention in any way.
I have met many women in my time, whether it is in the country side, in Yorkshire, abroad or in London or in travels to Ireland. While they might have a persona of sweetness it is decorative in nature. That is to say it is not their true nature and rather an adornment like a broch or some piece of jewelry that might be added for effect. This is not the case with the woman I love, she is gentle and kind and gracious to all that know her, she is sweetness to her very core and she understands no other way of being.
She is a fine lady and to say nothing of her appearance I would be in error. It is not her greatest asset simply because of the grand nature of her other qualities. For while she is a great beauty, I must say her looks are not the highest points of who she is, which is due only to the great stature of her character. And yet often it appear she is overlooked, for she is not wealthy and her quiet nature is sometime misunderstood. I acclaim that it is to my benefit that she would be overlooked by others, as I am certain that I am not near even half of her equal in either attractiveness and goodness of character.
In appearance she is petite and fine featured, she has large wide eyes and looks as if she in taking in the entire world in one glance. Her hair is soft in its appearance, glowing and her cheeks always have a cheerful, healthy glow. She is a radiant brunette, with pulls of almost a garnet colour through her hair. Her general appearance is warm like the tones of a forest in the fall, and her complexion is clear and holds warm tones in every season.
Even when she is fixated on other things, be it reading or listening to a person she gaze and mouth is soft and gentle in appearance, lively and interested. She allows one to see what it is she is thinking, at just a look at her features. She is a genuine person, with no pretense or falsehood about her. She is charming once you get to know her. Should you entreat her goodness you will see her true radiance, she is wonderful.
And maybe I have said too much. I will stop on the overview as I am obviously enraptured and I have a notion that my gushing on and on is more than you may have bargained for when you posed the question.
In your piece you mention a curiosity about love. I in turn cannot help but be curious about what has rustled up the question from your mind. I think I can speak in direction of your husband's feelings, that he does love you. You will wonder at how I know this, and you might even disbelieve me. I will simply say that is one of the things that a man can just tell with an easy glance. We understand our fellow man well in this way. Yes, you husband loves you and you will no doubt wish to have some form of confirmation, as you are not so able to discern it at a glance as any man might. In favour of confirmation I would suggest you kiss him, you will know an amorous reaction when you do.
You'll have to write me telling me that I am correct,
Until then,
Frank Churchill
June 16th, 1815
Mr. Churchill,
You are fortunate that you are not in proximity and that you find yourself at a safe distance in Yorkshire which prevents me from smacking you. Were you in the distance of my arm span I assure you I would not have hesitated for one moment to slap you. And this is, I assure you, an incredible accomplishment, as despite my moment of high temper, I have never been reduced to smacking anyone, not even my sister as children.
I will confess that my gasp was completely audible; even servants in the hall outside the parlor where I took my afternoon tea had heard my gasp of horror as I read it. Perhaps you heard it, even at your distance in Yorkshire! You ought not put into writing things that will startle a person so greatly, and moreover, what if my husband had read it? Can you imagine my mortification? You are lucky—no I am lucky that he has no wish to read mail that I receive. But as I had not confided to you that information, you would have no way to know that! As a result, I am thus rendered shocked that you would place in writing what might mortify me so greatly. Poorly done Frank, I am likely to remain cross with you and do not have the ambition or good manners to make small talk about the other particulars of your letter, but to say I hope to meet your sweetheart someday.
It is likely best that you did not attend Thursday Tea yesterday; it would have been a battle of my will to prevent myself from unleashing a tirade. I assure you that I will not be so cross by next week and you should not be in danger of attending then.
Your still cross friend,
Emma
June 19th, 1815
Emma,
I could well imagine your crossness at the recommendation in my last letter. Yes, I feel I am at a safe distance in Yorkshire, but I can also well imagine your shrill voice and cross reaction.
Perhaps you have found yourself exclaiming "Mr. Churchill, I will do no such thing" to the empty halls of your room while your husband is away managing the affairs of his estate.
Or maybe seething to yourself words like "How improper of Frank to say such a thing!" as you are aggressively pruning back the shrubbery. But I will remind you that he is your husband and you have every right to kiss him, should you wish to. There is nothing improper about it. And I will ask you, if only to add to your crossness, do you want to kiss him? As he is your husband there is no sense going in a roundabout way.
Do you wish him to be in love with you? Or I should say do you wish him to show that he is in love with you? For it is your action that he is waiting on. I have a general idea of the man your husband is from the report of others. It is said that he is not one that is quick to change his mind or his behaviour or his actions. He is a steadfast man indeed, said to be stable and reliable in every sort of way. From this I would gather that he is not one to overstep; while he is not a cautious man, he is prudent; he is smart, and well witted.
I would assume that he watches things and has a keen understanding of many things. Although he understands the world around him and he understands his business, you must not assume that he understands the thinking of a woman. For even a woman at times may not understand perfectly her own thinking and feelings, it is without a good deal of confidence that most men approach the subject.
And I think your actions, as I have mentioned to you before at the Coles' party have told him a consistent message. You will have shown him through your past actions what he understands as disinterest. You have given him the same message that you have given to any other man which is "Stay back", "I am not interested", "I am not ready to change,".
And will own that I am not clairvoyant; I must admit I did hear a rumor or two in my time at Highbury. Excuse me if it proves false but I heard a rumor that many were surprised you had married at all, without real necessity as you had often said "I am Miss Woodhouse and I am never to marry," –all this together would be enough of a message to dissuade even the dimmest of men. And yet the contrasting effect ought to dare the bravest of men to try. Would he be the one that is able to convince the great Emma Woodhouse that he was the one worthy of her affection? And as yours is not a natural marriage but one of some level of convenience on someone's part—the rumor mill does not seem to fully understand your motivations, but all are perfectly convinced your husband would not have married but for loving you. And they all speak so favorably of you, saying earnestly "for who could help but love Emma?"
They say he has always been enraptured with you; wrapped around your finger and deigning to grant your every wish. This was confessed to me with some degree of jealous; apparently there are women in Highbury that wish he might have hung off their every word as he has yours for years.
Since he is one that hangs off of your every word and would undoubtedly grant your every wish, I suggest you think about what it is you wish your marriage to look like. The situation of convenience as it is requires that he relies on you and your inclination.
I hope to return to Highbury to hear that you have taken my advice, but I will not press you on it just yet. Heaven knows Emma does not like to be tested on anything with any degree of severity! But know in the future if it isn't something you've taken up, I might turn it into a challenge for you! I have some notion that a challenge would spur you on in ways I've not yet fully considered.
Until then,
Frank
June 21st, 1815
Mr. Churchill, (and yes I will continue with the formal title until my ire dies down)
I am sure you were looking for a reaction and as such I will merely say that you did get one. Not near so shocked as the last letter, as I feel I was somewhat more prepared for what you might say. I still look forward to the prospect of you visit but understand, it would be unwise to bring the matter up again, especially in my proximity. Consider it a warning Mr. Churchill.
I will ignore the entirety of what you have told me in your last letter and act the responsible adult and offer a change of topic.
To the figure of you previous letter, this lady that you have painted so vividly I almost feel I know her already.
I would be obliged to act in your interest in this area. You mentioned the difficulty of your aunt at the Cole's party and I extended my willingness to support.
Were I to know her name, I might befriend her. It would be a strong connection for her if she were to be a friend of Emma Woodhouse-strike that and read Knightley, for I do not feel it necessary to rewrite the letter on account of the name error. If it would please you, I would host a dinner party and invite a selection of friends. Naturally as you are my friend (even after what you have said about me and my husband-you are still my friend but remember that you are lucky that I have a perchance for forgiveness) and she will be my new friend, it would diminish any sort of speculation-simply thought of as a gathering of Emma Knightley's friends.
I must acknowledge that I will not be a liberty to do so until you have become reacquainted with your father. I am certain it would seem impossibly callous if I were to host parties inviting the son when his own father is such a dear friend and the relationship has not been reconciled.
Until then,
Emma
Sorry that this took an age! I learned something about myself, apparently I don't really enjoy writing in an epistolary style. This will be the only chapter like it, but I wanted to give you insight into Emma and Frank's friendship and not have it be a big mystery. I am hoping it came off okay. Feedback? Advice?
I'm not the biggest fan of reading epistolary novels (meaning that, I don't read them), so I understand if this isn't everyone favourite chapter. Just hoping it isn't too different or awkward compared to the other chapters.
As always please review, as I would love feedback on this chapter and what worked (or didn't work!)
