We hit a real low with reviews last chapter. A grand total of seven. I try not to give it too much credence, but I sometimes get in my own head about it. Maybe the pace isn't moving fast enough, what if readers are dropping off out of boredom, maybe people aren't interested, or maybe the last chapter was really boring… You get the picture!
Thank you to those that did review and review faithfully! I always love hearing your insights and seeing what elements stand out to readers. Reviews are far less about kudos and more about seeing how the story is being consumed and understood by you guys. It is such a special thing to write with a live audience, reviews are the backbone of that and that is exactly why I love reviews.
Welcome Rianess, I am honoured that you read this in one sitting and by the compliment. Thank you.
I was hoping to wait until I hit the 350 review mark to post this as a celebration.
Instead, I'll post it in celebration of a new reader! Thanks Rianess for reading and reviewing! This chapter is for you.
Chapter 26
A New Friend
Emma kept her word to Alice Stevens. No sooner did she arrive home to Donwell then she turned around a returned to the village, this time heavy-laden with a basket on each arm.
In one basket, she had placed fresh food items that were on hand, apples and vegetables from the estate and some of Donwell's preserves and freshly made rolls. In the other basket, she had a few of her childhood dolls, small jars of honey, dried ginger root, dried lemon rind and small envelopes of turmeric powder and mustard powder, and cloves. She wished she could have given her some oils, clove or eucalyptus –on the off chance the women's complaint was something to do with the lungs or sore muscles.
She missed having access to her father's well-stocked cabinet with poultices, smelling salts, elixirs, emulations, and oils. There assuredly would have been amongst his expansive collection something to cure every known ailment. She did her best to pull from Donwell's well stock cupboards that which could be repurposed for medicinal reasons and she had left the cook instructions that she would like some restorative bone broths and beef tea made. Those would take more notice to prepare but would be ready soon enough for a return visit.
"Hello?" She had called out after knocking, and she called out a few more times, knocking each time but resisted trying the door.
Afterall she did not know these Bradleys', she would not be so forward as to permit herself into their home unbidden. So she knocked again a final time and then regretted not having the forethought to have brought something of a note. She placed both baskets in the path of the front door and then as she was leaving she planned she would return in a few days.
On her second journey to the home, she brought some dried meats, fresh fruit, and oranges this time—she had purchased for the occasion specifically and the beef tea and bone broth jars that cook had prepared.
And when she knocked this time, the door was soon opened by a girl with a very slight frame, looking to be four or possibly five. The girl has wide brown eyes and hair the colour of black walnut hulls. And Emma knew Mrs. Hodges would have had her straight into a wash tub if she had seen her.
Emma smiled softly, bending at the knees to be the girl's own height. "I'm Emma. A neighbor of yours thought that I might like to meet you and your mother and I have brought some goodies to share with you both," she offered, tilting the basket, the tops of the carrots were the only thing visible, as their foliage tops draped over the side and everything else was covered by a cheesecloth.
"Thank you for the other basket—I had never seen a doll with a painted face before, all the other one I have seen other girls play with were made of yarn or fabric scraps. I liked the dolls very much, maybe even a little bit more than the apples. I've never had an apple that sweet in all my life. I felt sorry that I hadn't talked to you. I saw you from the window the other day but I didn't know you face so I daren't open the door. I thought maybe you were a new landlord and our other landlord is not…" The girl stopped herself, to a pause for air and then introduced herself "I'm Amy,"
Emma saw her own likeness in the girl's exuberance and attempt to share all sorts of information in somewhat of a disorganized fashion.
"You are very welcome, Amy. I would play with those dolls all the time when I was your age, they gave me much amusement, and I hope they do the same for you," Emma smiled, "Do you think I might be able to come in and place this basket inside?"
"Yes, if we are both very quiet, mama is sleeping. She is so restless it seems she does not sleep at all in the night but can sleep some in the day if I am very quiet," the girl explained already whispering.
"I understand, yes, I can be very quiet when I set my mind to it," Emma told her, "You can show me the dolls perhaps," she suggested.
The girl permitted Emma into the room, it was a small cottage, so the kitchen was immediate and off in the corner was a small cot, with a heap of blankets and though the room was dark, Emma could make out a slumped figure in the bed, and could hear a touch of labored breathing.
"I've named this one Eliza," Amy told holding up, the doll Emma had always known as Rowena.
"That is a lovely name," Emma agreed looking with fresh eyes on the doll that had brought her so much joy as a child. "And the other two?" Emma inquired.
Holding the one Emma had always called Stella, "Princess Josephine" Amy said looking to Emma for approval.
"A great choice, yes! I see it now exactly, I had not thought of it before but she certainly does have the regal look of a princess," Emma whispered back.
"And Lady Penelope, she is the best friend of the princess, and Eliza is their helper," Emma took in the new name for the most beloved of her dolls, Lottie for short but Charlotte had always been her given name.
"A lady's maid?" Emma asked softly, "Well that is very fitting; they both look very well dressed so Eliza has done a very good job indeed," Emma encouraged.
They played a little while with the dolls and the whole time Emma carried on a hushed conversation with the six-year-old, Amy had confirmed that she was six, turning seven soon, but 'soon' Emma discovered was not for almost five more months. Amy like George had a birthday in the sad month of November, chilly and rainy with hardly any sun for all the clouds and the trees were always bare- it was almost depressing and unkind that anyone should be born into such abysmal conditions.
"Is your mother's illness becoming better?" Emma asked as they sat on the kitchen floor with their backs against the masonry of the empty fireplace.
"Are you asking about my mother or is Lady Penelope asking that about Princess Josephine mother?" Amy asked, her eyebrows showing a puzzled look.
"Oh, my apologies," Emma smiled, "I was asking after your mother, sorry if I interfere with our game, you may tell me afterward how Princess Josephine's mother fairs,"
"That's alright. I do not think she is feeling better but I do not think she is worsely; it seems much the same. Although some of this week she was able to be out of bed. It seems now that she is more tired for it, but she insisted on preparing something for us to eat and starting on with the laundry. I wish I could help her more, if the line was lower I would be able to hang the things but I am too short to help even with a stool. I did help to scrub the clothes though and I am very good at scrubbing,"
"I see, and do you know if she has seen the doctor?"
Amy shook her head 'no', "But Princess Josephine's mother is very well and she thanks you for asking,"
"I should like to have my own doctor; Dr. Hughes and my apothecary have a visit here. Do you think your mother would allow it? If you thought so, I would arrange everything. Mr. Perry is an old family friend and Dr. Hughes has been my doctor for as long as I can remember, and I am rarely sick, so he must be rather good at his work,"
"I do not think she would tell you it herself, but we aren't rich, well that is we cannot afford a doctor, there isn't money enough anymore, and we will have to do something soon or our landlord will turn us out. That is why mama was doing laundry in the week, she can get some wages by doing the laundry and the mending for the Coles housekeeper, but she is worried she will lose it if she isn't able to keep it up,"
"I see, yes, well then it is very important that she be well again soon, isn't it? I will send my doctor and my apothecary and they will return to me for the payment for that which is needed to help your mother recover fastest, be it medications or their services."
"Do you think it will help very quickly?" Amy asked looking excited at the prospect.
"Well, I cannot know how quickly but I have always recovered rather quickly when abiding by their instructions," Emma told her.
"Alright, then we will allow their visit," Amy agreed.
"Very good, now I feel I have almost overstayed my welcome," Emma told her, "there is fruit in the basket and fresh vegetables, and the broth should be warmed up before it is taken," she glanced around and there was not a proper stove, only the fire and at a second glance Emma realized she did not see resources, wood nor coal, that would allow a fire to be present, "but both the broth and beef tea can also be taken cold if it is not possible to heat them, and they will do much good either way," she promised.
"I'll be sure she takes some of them once she wakes,"
"Most excellent, and I will be back to visit you, every other day if that is agreeable to you," Emma told the girl, mainly because she thought it might provide opportunities to feed the girl and keep them in groceries.
"Oh it is! And will you play dolls again?"
"If we are able," Emma told her, "Do you have a favorite snack? I might try to bring it,"
"I really liked the biscuits you brought last time," Amy confided.
"Ah, I thought you might! I have more in this basket as well, but I'll maybe bring a different variety next time. My favorite ones have the raspberry swirls and I haven't seen that cook has made many that sort lately, I'll have to request them,"
With that Emma waved goodbye and Amy waved back as she left to return home.
"Must I?" Emma asked with big eyes and a beseeching look.
And he was certain that she must have been the most difficult woman in the world to say no to, everything about her implored him to concede and simply agree with her, and everything in him as well, everything but his sense of duty that is, for he had always taken his responsibilities and now, their responsibilities to the community seriously.
"We, it isn't just you, and they aren't back for another few weeks, so I don't see why you are getting concerned about it now." He told her, "but you know as well as I how it must be, for though we did not write the rules, we have both lived in Highbury all our lives and we know them keenly and we know how it must be."
"But surely someone else could welcome them," Emma insisted with a slight whine to her tone.
"As much as I would like that, you know that isn't the way it works—who else should welcome the new Mrs. Elton but the first family of Highbury, and that title, darling Emma, falls to us, sadly by default as there are too few families to stand in contest. Perhaps if you and I had married other people then it would have to be decided between our houses which family was 'first' in the opinion of Highbury. Would it have been the Woodhouses legacy, whose line goes back over a thousand years in this very spot that would best the Knightleys? Or would it have been the Knightley ingenuity, a line that only boasts five hundred years in the region but that has seen fit to gain more land in the area than any three neighboring combined? It would have made for an interesting contest, to think Emma, we could have been vying for the top spot in public opinion, and the right to entertain and welcome the Mrs. Elton's of Highbury society. But as we chose to marry one another we have thus removed any sense of contest for the title, the rank and all that it entails falls to us. "
She sighed loudly.
The room was silent for a few moments; he was looking at her, but not in a way that suggested anything more than a desire to read her face, her thoughts while she was silent.
"But can it not simply be tea? I am certain there is nothing in the unwritten rules that specifies what form of invitation is required. Surely it would be tolerable to invite her for tea, inviting them to dine seems so—so arduous and drawn out and never-ending," she explained dramatically whirling her arms a little as if to simulate the commotion and disturbance she felt internally. "And if we did invite them to dine, it would be rude not to have at least three courses, but the very thought chills me right through, three whole courses with Mr. Elton and his new wife! Whatever would we do to pass the time?"
"So you would rather have her for tea by yourself, then the pair of us entertain the pair of them for dinner?" George scoffed.
"I could have her at tea for forty-five minutes—" he looked at her sharply, "Fine, fine! I could have her at tea for less than two hours and then have the excuse of needing to arrange things and dress for the evening, and she would be back in her carriage and on her merry way, but dinner—well that would be three or four hours at least!"
"You would manage it, with ease, it is your role and you are good at it. No, not just good—you are the best at it—everyone pales when compared to you, Emma. Add to that you have so much respect and social standing in our community; you've held their esteem since long before you came of age. It is right that it is your job, and so it should be, by merit and by title." he told her.
"Dinner? Must I? That seems far too much of a thing to ask of a person in good social standing! Should it not fall instead to those who are in bad standing, or as some sort of punishment for pernicious social climbing? For then the Coles could host them!" She spat out.
"Stop," he said and she knew her jab at the Coles was a step too far, "but you forget it will not be just you, I'll be there to help you,"
"While I would be grateful for the moral support, you are not considered by many to be a talkative person Mr. Knightley, you are more of a stoic, which you are loved for, but it doesn't lend itself to being all that helpful in a dinner party that is merely a quartet. All of the talking I am certain would fall to me, for he is a little awkward when not speaking from the pulpit and I have to assume that she would be a demure sort of person in order to be a rector's wife, perhaps a Jane Fairfax type, which would respond to questions but contribute very little to the general conversation. You understand then the work that would be upon me to host them? I am said to be a talkative person but three or four hours with the Elton's for a dinner would surely try my every nerve,"
George laughed, "I never knew you to trouble yourself over things like this Emma, hosting and entertaining has always seemed so natural an art form for you, I didn't know it required so much thought,"
"Normally it does not, but this is different, it is Mr. Elton, who I have some opinion has not been disposed to like me very much," she told him candidly.
"He is the rector of our parish, I do not think he has a choice about which congregants he may be disposed to like or not, and as a wealthy patron, he certainly cannot afford not to be in your favour, which would mean he would at least need to pretend to like your company, even if he did not."
"Oh, that's nonsense, rector or not he is still a person, liable as anyone to have notions about people. I cannot help but feel that he does not like me. And I don't say it without cause, I say it because of the way his looked at me when our bans were read the first time, he gave me the strangest look, as if he was judging me and I had come up lacking!" Emma explained.
"It isn't nonsense, and you'll not like what I say next, I assure you but I had often wondered, before all this," he motioned between them, "if Mr. Elton had had his eye on you as a potential suitor,"
"Oh! That is even more ridiculous! Perhaps the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in all my life!" Emma retorted, feeling a blush and her voice raised in the defense and to the refutement of it.
"Well, it would make sense of the look you say he gave you, would it not? And men, well, let me just say we have a sort of sense about these things," George added with a chuckle.
"Stop it," she said, pushing his shoulder gently as she bid him to stop teasing her. "Now, you'll make it even more impossible to have dinner with them, should you deem a tea with Mrs. Elton not entirely sufficient,"
"Well, you say it is sufficient, why do you need my approval?" he asked her.
She met his eyes, looking directly at him as she spoke, "Because I want your approval, I've always wanted your approval ever since I can remember," she told him, stepping forward to stand a hairsbreadth nearer to him.
"Tell me in your own words that you think tea is perfectly sufficient," she said, moving her hand so that she could tug at the sleeve of his jacket.
He sighed.
"Please just say it," she solicited
"Fine, Emma, you are right. You, Emma, are the leading authority on social custom and decorum in the jurisdiction of Highbury and I think that if you say that tea with Mrs. Elton is perfectly sufficient as a first welcome, then you must be right, for who am I to disagree with you on such matters,"
"Oh George," She smiled, "It sounds most excellent to hear you said I'm right about something! I almost want to ask you to repeat it," she laughed, "Honestly, I think it is the best feeling that I know— here, feel this—" she said taking his hand and placing it just under her jaw against her neck, "That, that sensation bubbling up is pride. And not the ungodly kind mind you but rather delightful satisfaction, and it is swelling up so much that I can feel it pulsing in my veins, can you feel that?"
She was grinning at him foolishly, and he wanted to close the space between them and simply hold her but could not bring himself to close the distance.
Instead of doing as he wished, he actioned his thumb a few times, gently gliding it back and forth over the supple skin, feeling for the artery beneath the skin and the sensation that she spoke of. Perhaps he was just overcome by his own sensations because although he could feel her heart beat, rhythmic and the warmth of her soft skin, he could not say he felt any sort of palpitating over the normal fair.
"No, I don't feel anything but that which is normal—" he dropped his hand, and continued keeping his tone the same, "however your face is confirmation enough of your sense of satisfaction, you are obviously very pleased, and I'll make a note of remembering how much power I allegedly hold by my good opinion!" the last bit held a teasing tone, for he did not feel he could compose himself in any other sort of way but to make a joke of things.
Alright, folks. as always please review. I love hearing all your thoughts!
