Part X
After Emma, the children, and the nursery maids left the drawing room, George kept Mr Woodhouse company until the old gentleman's countenance was sufficiently recovered. He then handed him into the Hartfield carriage and escorted him, while he was on horseback, safely back home. The dutiful son-in-law had made certain that his father-in-law was tucked comfortably in bed and assured him that his granddaughter had neither caught cold nor fallen prey to feverish infection before quitting him to return to Donwell Abbey.
As soon as he stepped foot in his house, the concerned father went directly to his daughter's chamber. But as he came near the door, he heard the sweet, low voice of Emma humming Grace's favourite lullaby, and he knew, in spite of how much he wished to see Grace, he must refrain from disturbing his wife in calming their two-year-old.
Instead, he decided to wait for Emma in the Mistress Chamber, and had been waiting there for nearly an hour. During this time, he had discarded his frock coat and cravat, been pacing the elegant room listlessly. When, long at last, the door creaked, the husband and father instantly came to the door.
"How is she?" he asked as soon as he saw his wife.
Dismissing the maids at the threshold, "She is asleep," replied Emma, very quietly.
George noticed that Emma was looking strained and downcast, rather than pressing her, he took her hand and led her inside the room.
After they had sat down on the settee by each other, Emma, with head hung low, spoke wearily, "It took some time to calm her… she was very much frightened by the notion of living in a gaol…"
"But how did she come to learn about the gaol?" he asked.
"Apparently," replied Emma, her voice sounding troubled to George, "Father had read to her from the papers several days ago and told her that the gaol was the most dreadful place in the world."
This did not surprise George, something he heard Mr Woodhouse muttered to himself as the old gentleman climbing into bed earlier had him surmised this much. Now that he was certain the reason why Grace was afraid of being sent to the gaol, the husband was about to tell his wife – as he reckoned he should have done in the very first place – the exchange between him and their daughter the morning they set Mr Larkins free.
"Emma, I must tell you why Grace thought I would send her to the gaol…" He had only just begun and was interrupted.
"There… there is no need," she murmured dishearteningly, "I… I know…" Her eyes fixed at her wrung hands.
"Grace told you?"
Emma nodded weakly, still not meeting George's eyes.
"She… she told me… that she had promised you…" imparted the wife, her voice shrinking rapidly, and her head dipped even lower than before.
George was certain that Emma was upset with him, and he was ashamed of the mistake he had made with Grace. "I am very sorry, Emma…" he confessed sincerely, but was caught by surprise when Emma suddenly looked up at him.
"It is my all my fault!" she blurted in a frenzy. "It is entirely my fault! I am so very sorry, George! I shall not blame you if you would not forgive me!"
"Emma!" George was astounded. "How could it be your fault? I was the one who made Grace promise me something that she could not keep…"
"It is my fault, George!" she insisted ardently. "I have been indulging Grace the past three weeks! I should not have yielded to her plea after the night the thunder startled her! I should have known that she would form a habit as soon as I gave in… children form habits so quickly… and … and I have been a mother for two and a half years… how could I not know what would come of my yielding to her!"
George could not bear watching Emma laden herself with self-reproofs.
"Emma," he took her wrung hands, "you were only doing what most mothers who love their children dearly would do."
"But in loving our children, I have neglected you!" Emma's guilt-ridden eyes bored into George's eyes. "Mrs Weston once said that I might be being too indulgent to Grace… and she had said that by indulging Grace I could be neglecting the other… I had thought that she meant William and dismissed it… How could I misunderstand her meaning…I should have known how miserable it would make you feel… how could I not know… how could I be so stupid!" repentant tears were welling in her eyes.
"Come, Emma," George had folded Emma in his arms, was now dabbing her eyes with his handkerchief, "you ought not to be so harsh on yourself…"
"But I must, George!" she declared. Convinced that she did not deserve his love, the wife struggled to loosen from her husband's embrace, but he would not let her.
"You are the most loving mother any children could have, and the most devoted wife any men could ever wish for – you are being unjust to yourself, Emma!"
"I am not!" She refused to listen to him and stubbornly shook her head against his chest. "Had I given any serious thought to what Mrs Weston said, I would have understood her meaning… and even if Mrs Weston had never said a word to me, I should have known that I was neglecting you, how spending all nights with our children would make you feel! I am… I am an incompetent mother… a dreadful, dreadful wife!"
"Emma," George succeeded immediately, "if I had ever felt being neglected by you, I had quickly dismissed the notion. We both love our children with all our hearts and wish to see them growing up well. I cannot bear them being unhappy just as you cannot bear their tears. Heavens know – I – know what a devoted wife and mother you are, you ought not to be so unjust to yourself!"
George held Emma a little away to look at her, with both hands squeezing her shoulders and his eyes willing her to look up at him, but his obstinate wife refused to oblige and kept sulking in self-disapprobation.
"Emma, why do you insist on being severe at yourself?"
"Because I have let you down…" she cried, self-loathingly, "Because I am an incompetent mother and a dreadful wife!"
For a moment, George fell into contemplative silence, but very soon, he resumed, "Very well, Emma. If you must be so harsh on yourself, then let me share an equal part of that harshness with you."
He waited for Emma to raise her eyes at him, but she did not yield. In spite of his wife's mulishness, the husband began.
"For one who proclaims the beauty of truth and sincerity in all our dealings with each other, I could not have failed more miserably! I should have spoken to you when I thought I should be speaking with Grace. Instead, the blockhead that I am, I bade our daughter to keep a promise that no two-year-old could keep under the circumstance. Our Grace might be precocious, but she is still a very young child! At the first sign that it was beyond her power to keep her words, rather than imparting to you of what had transpired between me and our child, I ill logically allowed myself to believe that all Grace needed was a little encouragement and some gentle reminders. You have often complimented me a sensible man, but I am afraid, Emma – that your sensible man had become quite a foolish husband and a nonsensical father!"
Emma gasped, "But you… you are an excellent father and the most loving husband…" speaking in complete dismay, "How could you speak those things of yourself?"
"But is not it the truth, Emma?" he returned. "How could any, any, good husband and tolerable father commit such follies! Any fool would have known how to raise a child and be the father that his children need. I am the most ill-suited father I ever know…"
"George!" Emma cut him off indignantly. "That is utterly – utterly – untrue!" She could not believe her husband would take such mistaken notions in his head. "You were not a father until Grace came along, and since the first day of Grace's birth, you have been the most devoted father, and the kindest, most loving, understanding husband to me! How could you speak of yourself in such absurd ways?"
"But, Emma," the husband was as unyielding as his wife, "for two and a half years of being a father, what have I learnt? I should have known Grace was too young to keep such promise; I should have brought every matter concerning us to you instead of going to our two-year-old! How could I commit such imbecile mistakes? What a complete fool of a father and husband I am!"
"Stop this ridiculousness at once, Mr Knightley!" Emma stamped her foot, gripped George's forearm and demanded ardently. "We have only been parents for two and a half years – there are many years ahead of us to learn as father and mother! And there is a life-time before us to grow as husband and wife! If you must insist that you have made a mistake with Grace, I shall refrain from persuading you against it. But I shall not – cannot – allow you to accuse yourself of things that are complete contradictions of who you are! You are the most wonderful, most loving, most devoted father and husband I know – George, my dearest love – why do you insist on being unjust to yourself?"
While Emma stared at George imploringly and was grasping for breath from speaking so fervently to him, the self-deprecating countenance in George had miraculously vanished, his commanding presence returned, his open-temper reemerged, and a remarkable twinkle, which was far too familiar to Emma, sparked his dark eyes and caught her by surprise.
"And you, Emma, are not being unjust to – yourself?" asked he, very deliberately.
For a moment, the astonished wife was speechless. As she surmised that she had, once again, fallen into her husband's stratagem, "You…" she cried, indignantly, "You… incorrigible… you!" turning away from her husband and pointing her pretty little nose high towards the sky.
A warm smile broke out of George. "Emma," he said, in his famed calmness and sincerity, "you understand that I was only trying to make a point, do not you?"
"No!" the wife said haughtily, and with a pout and deeply annoyed brows. "You beguiled me into thinking that you were miserable for your mistakes and being greatly unjust to yourself!" she shifted further away from him.
"Emma," the husband laid his hands on his wife's shoulders but was shrugged off with little mercy, "I did feel sorry for my mistakes, but I was not about to let my guilt takes over my good sense…"
"Huh!" Emma turned sharply to gape at George, "You think I have allowed my guilt to take over my goodsense? Or… or do you think I have any goodsense at all?"
George could not resist, "Emma, have not we been through the subject of you being nonsensical when you were fourteen?" he teased.
Exasperated by her impertinent husband, the wife groaned, stamped both feet, and lifted her pretty little nose, perfectly formed chin, and enticing pouty lips to the sky even higher than before.
George chuckled – no matter how much Emma had matured since they married, once in a long while the childish tantrum of his darling wife's girlhood days would creep back out and amused him in the most delightful way!
"Stop laughing!" Emma decreed with exasperation.
"But you are too adorable when you are upset with me, my love!" His chuckles had turned into a wide grin.
"Then I shall be upset with you every day until I turn a hundred years old!" Her crinkled nose was irresistible to him.
"And I am sure you shall be just as adorable even when you become a centennial lady, my love!" His grin just turned ridiculous.
Though Emma had the greatest desire to punish her George, however, presently, his insufferable grin was far more endearing than infuriating to her.
"You must beg for my forgiveness!" she demanded archly, could hardly suppress the twitches on her lips.
"And I am happy to oblige!" The husband possessed himself the delicate hands of his wife and held them to his heart. "Would you forgive me for laughing at you, Emma?"
"Hum… I suppose…" Emma said smugly. "And…" she was only half-satisfied.
"And – what – Emma?" He gave her a quizzical look.
"Begging for my forgiveness for beguiling me, of course!"
"That – Emma, is a forgiveness that I cannot beg!" George declared, unashamedly.
"But why?" shocked and disappointed, she asked.
"Emma, do you honestly believe you are the names you called yourself?" George asked. "An incompetent mother?" his brows furrowed most disagreeably, "A dreadful wife?" he found Emma's description of herself appalling even now.
George's questions immediately brought Emma back to her harsh words on herself. Though she was not a perfect mother and wife, she had endeavoured to be worthy of her husband and their children. But in the midst of feeling disappointed by her blunders, she had allowed herself to dwell in self-disapprobation, and impulsively, and unjustly, given herself names that she did not deserve.
Although blushing, in spite of her feeling foolish for her rash act, the wife still felt strongly the regret and guilt of indulging her daughter and neglecting her husband inside.
George saw Emma's pensiveness; he pulled her gently to him, "Emma," speaking softly to her, "you must know that I only beguiled you to help you see the truth."
"And the truth is…" she looked up at him beseechingly.
"The truth is, Emma, that we, as parents, and husband and wife, make mistakes. There is no doubt that I had made a foolish mistake with Grace, and I indeed feel sorry for it. But I am not about to throw myself into thinking I am a fool of a father and husband, and I sure do not wish you doing it to yourself – For to err is human, Emma. Once we learn where we have erred, it is far more important that we grow from our mistakes than to condemn ourselves for them."
Emma sighed. "And I have committed far too many mistakes in my youth to not know the truth of what you just said!"
"You and I – both – have, my love!"
George gave Emma a reassuring smile, hoping that it would dispel her melancholy, only that she was, at the moment, deep in thought.
Slowly breaking from her reverie, she spoke, "George…"
"Yes, Emma…"
"Do you think we could have avoided our blunders had I let the nursery maids look after our children instead of insisting on looking after them mostly myself?"
He regarded her question thoughtfully.
"Emma," he said, "when Grace was born, there were times I had wished you would let the nursemaids take care of her more than you did. The way you insisted on caring for Grace night and day, allowing yourself to be utterly exhausted and wane and so dispirited nearly broke me. But as you so tirelessly held our infant daughter, soothing her, loving her, and taking care of her, in spite of her being inconsolable, in spite of your own difficulties, I was soon come to understand that you were giving our child the love that only a mother could give. Had you chosen to entrust our children in the hands of the Nurse or the maids as so many families of our station do, I would have had no objections. But I admire and love you all the more for willingly devoting yourself so unreservedly to our children and love them the way you do. If I had to forgo a portion of my time with you or give up some of my comfort in order for our children to be cherished by their mother, it was the smallest price I could pay."
Emma moved an inch closer to George, squeezing their entwined hands between their hearts, gazing gratefully and adoringly up at him, "Just like the way you were willing to sacrifice your own comfort for my father's when you married me?"
"Any price to win the love of my life…"
The husband leaned in to kiss his wife tenderly, and such kiss had brought the beautiful countenance and radiance back to his lovely wife.
And when the two lovers broke off from their kiss, they both turned their eyes to the clock atop the mantelpiece.
"Grace has been waking up about this time the last three weeks…" said Emma, with anxiety. "I must go…" she saw the thoughtful countenance on George and quickly checked herself. "May I… Should… should I go to her, George?" she implored.
"Would you let me go to Grace, Emma?" entreated George.
A/N: Thank you for reading and have a good weekend! :-)