Forget-me-not
AN: Thank you very much for the reviews.
He knew he had to reply but he gave himself a day, a day to depart from Donwell, Hartfield and the farms and all the thoughts that filled those places. He headed into town, there were a few parish matters he had to attend to and on his way he saw Miss Bates in the village square. He stopped his horse and tipped his hat to her.
"Oh Mr. Knightley, how are you? I can see that you are well but really sir you have not stopped I think since Miss Woodhouse has left. I have heard accounts of you everywhere and I daresay always on foot. You will wear yourself out at this rate I fear."
"I am fine I assure you Miss Bates, exercise is always good for me."
"Oh true, true. I was just saying to mother yesterday how well I feel when I have had my early walk to check the post. I have been there this morning already, oh yes. And I should tell you that I have had a letter from Jane, now isn't she dutiful, why she is just settled into her new home and can still find the time to write. Oh they are so in love Mr. Knightley and to think none of us new but I suppose they did not want to risk it…no I daresay, but as my father would say nothing ventured, nothing gained and so they are very happy indeed. It is hard for young people in love do you not think Mr. Knightley? They are so often thwarted by family and situation…" she stopped to take a breath and smiled up on Mr. Knightley who was listening attentively on his horse.
"In some cases…yes I would agree." He nodded.
"Well it has worked out for Jane and Frank, they have promised me to come at Christmas and mother and I are delighted! Oh to have a house full of people at that time is always a pleasure is it not Mr. Knightley?"
"To be sure." He made to ride on after a little parting bow.
"I see that you must be pressing on Mr. Knightley but I just wanted to enquire after Miss Woodhouse, is she feeling better, is she enjoying her stay in London? We must not let her stay too long; she will not want to come back to our little village here." She smiled.
"Yes I think she is enjoying it and in her last letter she is sounding much better. As far as the length of her stay only she can determine that." Knightley finished sounding more resolute than he realized.
Miss Bate's smile weakened just at the corners, "wonderful to hear that she is feeling better."
"Yes, good day Miss Bates." Mr. Knightley rode on trying to believe that he really did want it to be Emma's decision to come home.
In the evening he took his meal in the study at Donwell and at his desk, after setting his tray aside, he took up ink and paper for a reply;
Dear Family,
I am happy to hear that you are all ensconced in London. Emma has relayed to me accounts of events and friends, it sounds that the change is doing everyone some good. He crumpled the first attempt, feeling at a disadvantage to have to address everything he said to the entire family, whereas Emma could write as she pleased to her audience of one, himself. He thought on this for a moment and came up with an acceptable way round to writing to her personally, he would enclose a note to Emma containing pertinent business of Hartfield that she would want to be kept informed of while she was away. He knew that Isabella was not likely to look at it and probably would assume that Emma would inform herself and John if anything important happened that they should know about. So with this he started again, in about 20 minutes he had completed an acceptable family letter, including all the news of Highbury to suit Isabella and John; The Weston's baby was due in January and she was enjoying excellent health, Dr. Perry had bought a carriage with some money that Mr. Woodhouse had left him in his will and the Parish committee had decided to donate money to build a new school for all the village children. With this business finished he could write a more personal letter to Emma.
Dear Emma,
As you have read in the family letter I am writing to you about any business related to Hartfield that you will like to stay informed upon. I must begin by thanking you for your well written letter of the 19th, I am happy that you are meeting new people and taking in new sites. The Opera I hope will be a thrilling evening for you. I remember when I first went with an Aunt to Covent Garden, it was a pantomime and John and I were fascinated by the acrobats and harlequins, we were small boys and the place was huge, it was before the fire of 08 and looked quite different than it does now. I must remember to show you a book from Donwell Library that has a sketch of the old configuration. I have heard that the stage lights are gas now and illuminate the players in a most theatrical way. I have not been in several years, it is lucky that you will be in a box with the Wrights, I think that I met them once when John took me to his club, I don't remember the son but I believe I did meet Miss Wright and her mother at a luncheon in London, they seemed very pleasant women as for Mr. Wright I did notice that he had rather a dark view on almost every subject we touched on. Your observation on the matter was astute, idleness does seem to breed that nature I have seen it on more that one occasion with my contemporaries and alumni.
Hartfield is in full bloom, the sunflowers and heather is glorious, Stevens is doing a fair job of overseeing the gardens in your absence but I believe when I was speaking to him yesterday he let slip that he had not realized how much tending Miss Emma had done and that it was a credit to her that the garden looked as pleasing as it did in every season. I pass the compliment on to you respectfully. Greta, your faithful cook, has decided that I am far to thin and offers me biscuits and sweets at every opportunity, I am running out of excuses, just yesterday I managed to dodge her by stepping out the side door to the garden path, really Emma she is very persistent but also has a very sweet nature and I do not wish to offend but if I eat everything she makes for me it will be I that you do not recognize when you return for I will be 5 times my size. He knew she would smile at this and could, if he imagined hard enough, see her expression.
I hired a few of my tenants to come round and patch the north wall as it was damaged by that storm in late spring when the sycamore blew down, they should be completing the work on the 23rd if all goes well.
I met Miss Bates yesterday in the village and she told me she had a letter from Jane; they are doing well and will be back in Highbury for Christmas. She also asked particularly about your health and happiness and I assured her that you were feeling well and enjoying your stay in London. She was very relieved to hear the news; she counts you as one of her closest friends. I believe when you are a good person at your very center small inconsistencies in temperament are afforded by those that know intimately your true nature. For instance, with your Mr. Wright, you are realizing his true nature and so his cynicism and misplaced disappointment are, in your opinion, unpardonable, but if he had a warm and generous spirit in general but occasionally diverted from this and corrected his wife or children, perhaps rather too harshly, he could be forgiven. Mr. Knightley wanted to go on and say that he thought she was the very best kind of person and that removing to London could not make her any better, but he knew such effusiveness was inappropriate and could only hope that Emma would read between the lines down to his feelings.
As you see Hartfield is running smoothly, thanks to your father's excellent choice of help and, as I am finding out, your excellent organization of the household. He had always assisted Mr. Woodhouse with certain details of business concerning the running of the estate, especially in the more recent years but he had never been privy to the actual details of running the household and he was finding more and more, while speaking with the servants, that Emma truly had a knack for organization.
In closing, I hope that you have a wonderful time at the Opera and continue to further your education. Your new friend, Miss Wright, seems an excellent match for you Emma. I am glad to hear you are making new friends. I saw your old friend Harriet Smith at the Parish just yesterday, she and I spoke of you for a while and she sends her regards, she promises to write soon but confessed that she does not have a way with words. She is staying with the Martin's for a few weeks over the summer again and I offered her to come and picnic on the grounds of Donwell with the Martins whenever the weather was fine. Truly, Mr. Knightley was hoping that Harriet and Mr. Martin would become reacquainted, perhaps even on a picnic at Donwell and that he could help him gain what he was realizing more fully each day must have been a terrible loss. He sat back in his chair, resting his head for a moment when a grin broke the down turned lines of his mouth. He thought that surely Emma will tease him for trying to do some matchmaking of his own. He shook his head at what her reply would be and then sealed the letter with wax and put it at the top of a pile of correspondence he had been working on.
Sincerely,
George Knightley
The weeks that followed brought on the true hot weather of late August and September and on one particular balmy evening Mr. Knightley had opened the great French doors in the library at Donwell and placed his chair almost outside, it had been a long and very tedious day going over accounts and prospects for the impending harvest, he loosened his cravat and hung his outer coat over the nearby desk chair, helped himself to a glass of sherry and settled down to read a letter from London.
Dear Mr. Knightley,
There is no excuse for my taking so long to reply I can only say that when one child comes down with an illness it spreads through the household in the blink of an eye. Isabella, the maids and I have been on almost constant nursing duty. Mr. Knightley sat straighter in his chair, furrowing his brow over the possibility that one of his little nieces or nephews might be seriously ill.
Summer colds seem to be the very worst kind, they linger on for weeks. All the children seem to be on the mend now but little Henry took it the hardest and even had difficulty catching his breath one night. Isabella's regular doctor, Crammer, was nowhere to be found but luckily Catherine Wright's brother was on hand, he is a doctor in London, I believe I mentioned him in my last letter. He knew just the correct herb to add to his tea and his wheeze and hard breathing cleared very quickly. We were all very grateful that he had been dining with us that evening. Mr. Knightley gave a sigh of relief to hear that all the children were feeling better.
The Wrights, Catherine and William have been hear at Brunswick square much during my visit, I think they wish to escape the wrath of their father. Catherine and I have started a small endeavor of making bandages and knitting some needed items for one of the hospitals that her brother is in attendance. He sits at two, one of a kind for ladies and gentleman like us and one for the poor. One evening he told us of the need for basic supplies at the latter and the next day both Catherine and I had the same idea. I must tell you Mr. Knightley that although I love a ball and am attracted by the latest fashions a steady diet of such pleasures is to rich for me. I have of late been missing my garden and duties at Hartfield and your letter, to which I now reply, made me just a bit homesick for Highbury. Mr. Knightley smiled at this admission but it was, he knew, a guilty pleasure. I am afraid I must have been wearing my heart to much on my sleeve because Mr. Wright inquired if I didn't need a change of scenery and asked me to tour the museums with him, and his sister of course, at the end of the week. "Hmmm…" mumbled aloud.
I am pleased that Miss Bates, Jane and Frank Churchill are doing so well. Perhaps, we will be all home in Highbury for Christmas and everyone can come to Hartfield. It will be so strange without father. Mr. Knightley acknowledged this with a nod of his head and remembered back to his own first Christmas without his mother, there was still laughter and joy but somehow it did not resonate with the same force, after she was gone it was just he, John and father and they would grow far too serious at times. He remembered how his mother had a way of teasing them out of their bad temper.
Thank you too for the news of Harriet; it was kind of you to offer them to picnic on the grounds. Do you often see and speak with Harriet? Mr. Knightley drew his brows together at this question thinking it was rather odd. He had been sure Emma would have seen through to his motive. Perhaps she sees it as impossibility now?
Mr. Knightley in many ways you have been a better friend to Harriet than I have. I am seeing my conduct from a distance and know that it was not what it should have been. You tried to warn me but I continued my relationship with Harriet which now I see was all one sided in my own mind at the time. I gave nothing to the friendship and only caused pain and heartache. I think to be able to give yourself to other people you must know your own self first. I look around and see examples of this every day; my dear sister Isabella seems to have always known herself and she is a perfect wife and mother, John, so content with his happy family and work, although perhaps a bit critical at times, knows what he wants, Mr. William Wright, very focused on his career and field of study seems very happy and you, of course Mr. Knightley, always in good spirits and content with your life…it seems only Catherine and I are removed from this troupe, not that we are not jovial and enjoy life, but I suppose we are not settled. Mr. Knightley let his arm fall that was holding the letter, he thought on what Emma had stated, was he really content with everything in his life? He looked up to the clear night sky, the stars, so distinct in their positions, marker points for something important, more important than himself. Her thoughts and words washed over him and he felt small and apart from his usual world.
I must close with something lighthearted now, this is all growing to serious. I have not spoken of the Opera as of yet. It was a magical evening, as you said the gas lights put such an effect on the actors and the singing was truly thrilling, but the true drama occurred during the intermission. Mr. William Wright escorted Catherine and me out to the grand lobby for some refreshments, with the other members of both families behind us. Mr. Wright went to fetch drinks while I tried not to be in awe of the architecture and grand chandelier in the center of the room. Mr. Knightley smiled. Catherine was explaining some history about the theater to me when a mature woman and two young ladies approached us. Catherine made the introductions. The name was Bates, yes Bates. She evidently was a cousin of our Miss Bates of Highbury. When I inquired the woman acknowledged with almost a sneer and it was made most clear that I should not continue my inquiry further. The two daughters, one named Charlotte and the other Hannah were both very pretty, small with dark hair and very finely dressed but their expressions were very disapproving, but Mr. Knightley you will be proud of me I forged forward not making a quick first impression. I truly tried every line of conversation but seemed to be in the wrong on every subject. This went on until William came over with the refreshments. He greeted the three warmly and spoke a bit more particular to Charlotte. Her expression changed immediately, she spoke warmly and softly, interjecting all kinds of questions about his studying, it was astounding…like two different people. Knightley nodded his head, he knew this type of woman. I chanced a glance at Catherine and she responded with a knowing smile in return. This must not have been Charlottes only performance. Mr. Wright spoke with her for a few minutes and then turned to me to inquire after the punch, how I enjoyed the opera the actors… and before we knew it Charlotte, who had been fine just a moment ago fainted away to the floor! Oh Mr. Knightely the drama, she was only missing the gas lamps. He laughed out loud…and it resonated on the night air. Well, good and kind Mr. Wright knelt to her service, patted her hand, and checked her pulse but only when it was decided that they should return home did she fully come round with her cheeks just as rosy as before. I know that you will be mentally scolding me for not being more generous but perhaps I could sidestep this offence if I give Charlotte the title of best actress of the evening. Knightley shook his head at her impertinence but could not stop laughing. I hope that I should never stoop to such tactics; it makes all women look bad. You, Dear Emma, will never have to…
Then poor Mr. Wright had to forgo the rest of the opera and convey the three ladies home to be sure that Charlotte did not have a relapse. Knightley thought he detected a note of jealousy, which he knew Emma, on occasion, had an inclination towards.
We went back to the Wright's box with the rest of the family and enjoyed the Opera. It was truly beautiful and not really spoilt too much by the circumstances. "Good girl, Emma." He whispered as he carefully folded the letter, fingering the wax seal, it was embellished with a forget-me-not flower, delicately floating inside the crude red wax.