A/N: Just warning you all that in the process of actually thinking up a plot, I realized the title to this story might not be suitable much longer. I might change it in the next chapter.
Thanks to those of you who commented on Mr. Woodhouse's characterization. My idea is that as annoying as it is, the man actually has a very good point. Emma is young, and pregnancy was not easy on a woman in the 19th century. Granted, women married earlier in the Regency and had less to do in life, but I think Emma valued her independence and did not particularly crave family life. If she hadn't been so very much in love with Mr. Knightley . . . if, in other words, she had chosen Frank Churchill, I think there would be good cause for asking her to wait another year or two.
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Chapter III
By Jenni
Never before had the walk to Randalls been as pleasant to Emma as it was while she strolled arm in arm with Mr. Knightley. The gravel road was flanked in the vibrant summer wildflowers of knapweed and harebell so that all the countryside seemed laid open to them in lustrous colour. Buoyed by the glorious weather, his manner was jovial, as it had been since that wondrous day when they had confessed and exchanged every tender feeling; but this morning in his way of addressing her there was a new openness of speech that Emma could not recall him extending to her before. He invited her opinion on every topic from his plans for the estate to the position he had recently secured for Sarah Larkins with the Coles's. Emma deemed it a pleasure to bestow the necessary reassurance that would be her duty to provide from here on. She knew very little about landscaping, but she thought his plans for Donwell excellent; she did not know anything of the Coles's needs for a housekeeper and even less of Sarah Larkins, but his charity was most admirable. Everything he did was for the best and could not be better. It was not until they were almost in sight of Randalls that he first gave any hint of wanting more than her assent.
"Dearest Emma, are you listening?" he asked as they crossed the gates that divided the public road from the long path cutting through Randall's verdant greensward.
"Of course, Mr. Knightley," said she. Then, daringly, she added, "When I am not admiring how our walk has animated you, that is."
"If that be the case, I will not prevent your thoughts from wandering," he replied. "But should you ever find what I am saying more interesting than my figure, allow me to say that you needn't agree with me always. It is not in your nature, and I do not expect it."
"Then I shall never cease to study you, Mr. Knightley, if to do so means we must quarrel."
"Not to quarrel. Merely to express a difference of opinion, as we have had in the past. I have not meant through our several disagreements to silence you forever."
"Yet I recall you being right on every occasion when we have quarreled. And how do I dare disagree with your superior wisdom? If I did not know your principles to be utterly incorruptible, I should fear leading you astray."
Emma's thoughts darted to poor Harriet Smith, pining for Mr. Knightley in Brunswick Square, the unintended consequence of her own meddling. Anxiety touched her for one, brief moment, for she was not yet transformed into such a rational creature that she could not imagine Mr. Knightley in love with Harriet Smith.
"No, you need not fear leading me astray," he said, with a smile. Then, perhaps sensing that she was growing uncomfortable, although unable to ascertain why, he stopped and placed his hand below her chin. "Don't cast your eyes down, my love. You needn't be ashamed of the past. You have learned from your errors. But as for my being always right, that is not so."
"Oh, I never believed you are always right. There was a day last week when you said it would rain, but the weather stayed very fine. Yet in matters of real importance, even when I was insolent and foolish, I could not deny your superior understanding."
"I doubt that very much," said he.
"I would readily disagree with you on that point," said Emma. "Especially, since you have told me how much you like it when our opinions differ, and also because I am in the mood to comply with your every whim. But you will find me unmovable, and I am quite determined to carry the argument, so we had better stop. I do not wish to arrive in Mrs. Weston's parlour looking flushed."
"Then I shall not make you blush by telling you how beautiful you look today," said he. "But I see the color rising in your cheek despite my best efforts. Ah, well, Mrs. Weston will attribute it to the exercise, I suppose."
"Mrs. Weston will do no such thing," said Emma. "She will only observe us once together, looking more exhilarated in each other's company than we have ever been at any other time, and she will know the whole of it. I think she has suspected something for weeks. I have been far too pleased since Frank Churchill's engagement. She might well have guessed I already possessed immunity from a romantic attachment in some other corner."
Mr. Knightley did not look as amused by her statement as she had intended. He had started at the name of Frank Churchill, only to remain silent, venturing only to say, "Yes, I suppose Mrs. Weston would find it incomprehensible for any young lady not to fancy herself in love with Frank Churchill."
"Mr. Knightley—"
"There is 'Mr. Knightley' again. It is so formal," said he, and though no outwardly sign marred his tranquil countenance, Emma was well-acquainted with his moods and knew she had hurt him. She wished she had not mentioned Frank Churchill. She, who dreaded to hear him say the name of her own friend, felt she should have exercised greater discernment. "You say it seems strange to you," he continued, "but can you not call me 'George?'"
Emma would have said yes, called him 'George' or 'my dearest love,' and thrown herself into his arms, but they had arrived at the door to Randalls and it was too late. Hannah opened it even before they knocked, and in half a minute they had shuffled into the drawing room where they found Mrs. Weston rocking the baby in her arms. It was the very picture of felicity, thought Emma, and she could not help but wish her father had come with them. For if he had, she was sure that upon seeing Mrs. Weston's tranquil countenance, even he could not have summoned the will to describe her as "poor Miss Taylor."
Contrary to her expectations, however, Mrs. Weston did not seem to notice the overpowering effect of love on her visitors. Had she not been half as preoccupied with little Anna as to allow them more initial attention than a hello, she would have seen merely signs of discomposure on Emma's part and some vexation on Mr. Knightley's. But it all disappeared the moment they sat down, although not before Emma saw him take up a miniature silhouette of Frank, undoubtedly the gift of Jane Fairfax. It had been sitting on a small table beside the sofa, and there he replaced without comment, setting it face down to prevent anyone else from admiring the likeness.
"What beauty!" exclaimed Emma, "But I will not pretend to be surprised with such a mother." Then, bewildering Mrs. Weston with an uncharacteristic pronouncement, she added, "If I were blessed with a daughter possessing half as much charm, I dare say I would be well satisfied."
"She is the most delightful creature," said Mr. Knightley at once, leaning forward to see the baby more clearly. "You can see her smile will be just like her father's when she is older, but I do not think she has quite mastered it yet. But see, the mouth is the same."
"You are the first one to notice, Mr. Knightley. And yet that is just what I thought from the first, but Mr. Weston demurs. He insists all the beauty comes from me, and the smile too. How he and Emma flatter me! Ah, but Mr. Weston is in the garden, and I believe he had a question of business for you. Hannah will call him."
"It is nothing dire, I hope. I am afraid I must return to Donwell shortly, but I would be most obliged to speak about it with him tomorrow."
"Nothing like," said she. "I am sure it was something only about your landscaping project, but he must explain it."
In half a second her attention had returned to little Anna, who was cooing less contentedly than before. She had begun to fuss and cry, and only by giving her her full attention could Mrs. Weston prevent the situation from becoming worse.
Emma took the opportunity to catch Mr. Knightley's eye. "Will you not escort me home to Hartfield before returning to Donwell?" whispered Emma. Her entreaty was heartfelt, and so certain was she of his noticing the love radiating from her eyes that when he answered, "Of course," she felt completely understood. Gently she placed his hand over his, and she meant to call him by his Christian name, but still her stubborn tongue was mute. Willing as she was, she could not bring herself to say, 'George.' As before, it seemed sacrilegious to call him anything but, "Mr. Knightley," and a bashful grin was the only thing she could command herself to produce.
It was silence that alerted them to the fact that Mrs. Weston had succeeded in comforting the baby, and they turned towards her to find her questioning gaze fixed upon them. In an instant, Emma knew the reason. Their hands were still joined between them on the sofa, and if that were not enough, her sudden blushing gave them away. The suspicion she had predicted would dawn in Mrs. Weston's mind upon seeing her agreeably engaged in conversation with Mr. Knightley had indeed been created. But a moment's clarification would commute that suspicion to knowledge. Only a moment before she ended at last this unnatural concealment from her dear friend! Now she might unfold the secrets of her heart and be validated, supported, and supplemented by one whose loving words she had yearned to hear in approbation of this most consequential of decisions.
Mr. Knightley sensed that until he left, neither woman could be fully open with the other. The effusion of minutiae regarding Emma's thoughts and feelings, her many sighs before his declaration, her agitation during, and her great relief and elation afterwards, which were about to be conveyed to Mrs. Weston, would be made and received with infinitely more pleasure without him nearby to judge their reasonability. Nor would Mrs. Weston praise his character, his figure, or his estate while he could hear her. Dutifully, he excused himself. He thought he should see Mr. Weston immediately rather than wait until tomorrow. With a bow, he was gone.
"How sly you are, my Emma!" cried Mrs. Weston when he had left. "I know you are keeping something from me, but I have a poor record with these sorts of guessing games, as you know. I am almost afraid to venture a conjecture."
"If you would guess that Mr. Knightley and I are engaged, then conjecture all you please," she said, laughing.
"Oh, my dearest child! Can it be true?" was Mrs. Weston's cry, and Emma suspected that but for little Anna on her lap, she might have leapt to her feet in shock.
"Oh but it can. At times I scarce believe it, but indeed it can!" cried Emma an outpouring of joy that effected the immediate relief of Mrs. Weston's doubts, if not her curiosity. Her questions were numerous and rapid in their succession. Emma had but a quarter of an hour before Mr. Knightley could return, and in that time how could she answer them all?
"You ask how and when and why," said she, "but all I can say is that I have loved him all my life, and foolish girl that I am, I only learnt my own heart as early as I learnt the news of Frank's engagement, when I feared— Oh, but I am too ashamed to repeat what I feared! I knew he had gone to London to be away from me, and I thought my heart might break, but when he returned he came straight away to Hartfield. He thought me in love with Frank. Lending me comfort was his first order of business, and when he discovered I required none, then confessing his feelings to me was his second! For he, he has loved me nearly as long, but despaired of ever winning me. Can you believe it? Such a man as he is, to be wondering whether a woman could ever find room for him in her heart? For he is kind, generous, handsome, and in general so superior a man that, excepting Mr. Weston, of course, I know I shall never find either his better or his equal if I roamed this vast world thriceover."
"'Excepting Mr. Weston,' indeed," laughed his wife. "I know you say so only to humour me, for you do not think anyone at all is better than your Mr. Knightley. I see it in your eye, my dear. How blissful, how happy you look! I have wished so often to see you thus, and now that I do, I find myself well satisfied at last with everything and everyone but myself. Oh, to think how I have blundered in this regard! How often I set my will towards a match between Mr. Knightley and Jane Fairfax! And many times Mr. Weston and I spoke of you and Frank as a settled couple while he was in the room. My words must have been a torture to you all!"
"I will not say they were without sting," laughed Emma. "But perhaps they hastened the inevitable, for both of us were hopelessly blind until jealousy lifted the shade."
"Then I will not apologize overmuch. Yet how stupid I was not to have seen it all earlier! For who else but you has commanded Mr. Knightley's interest and good-will for so long? He and I used to chat about you over the years, and the last time we did so, he praised your beauty to high heaven. I should have seen it then. And he? Who could be more worthy of you than Mr. Knightley? Who else would be so understanding of your father?"
"Oh, my father," said Emma, and a cloud fell over the conversation. She related her father's reaction to the news, his general disapproval, and her fears that he might never be reconciled to the match. And if he should not, then could they marry without his consent? It was impossible to think so, yet equally impossible not to. Her only solace was that her sister and Mrs. Weston might persuade him in time.
"Do not worry, my Emma. If you desire it, Mr. Weston and I will spread the news throughout town as if it were gossip. Then you need not fret about being undutiful in continuing to announce something your father finds distressing. Everyone will know by the end of the week as a fixed plan. They will come to congratulate you, and eventually your father will also come to think of it as being settled. I know him almost as well as you, and uncomfortable as he is, he would never stand in the way of something that everyone deems best. But if you prefer to keep it a secret engagement until you have gained his blessing, then I shall comply with your wishes."
"Do do, spread the news," said Emma with a laugh. "Secret engagements may be all the rage, but if I shall certainly go mad if I must pretend to others that I do not love Mr. Knightley. Ah! If Mr. Perry might only be convinced to recommend marriage for my health, then papa might be tolerably at ease."
"My dear, your father only wants the best for you. He is no friend to change, but you and I both know he would do anything in his power to make you happy."
Mrs. Weston could help it no longer. She entreated Emma once again for the circumstances leading to her epiphany, and Emma endeavored to supply them. They sat in conversation until Anna began to fuss again and Mr. Knightley returned with Mr. Weston. The latter was smiling broadly, coming immediately to Emma to shake her hand, whereupon Mrs. Weston expressed her whole-hearted congratulations to Mr. Knightley.
"You are the very first to take my hand and tell me what a happy man my wife will make me and how well I deserve her," said he to Mrs. Weston. "And all the more do I honour you. I was beginning to expect an uphill battle in all corners."
"I don't see how," said Mr. Weston. "I saw this coming on for months, and I am sure I cannot be the only one who noticed. Always looking each other's way. Always so solicitous for each other's comfort. I once thought I had something of great import to tell Emma, and poor girl, her only thought was that I'd seen you lying in a ditch somewhere."
"What's this?" asked Mr. Knightley with a smile. Emma felt they were within half a second of getting to Frank Churchill. She inquired about whether or not little Anna required her nap. The child was indeed tired and ought to be put to bed. Emma and Mr. Knightley would go, but not before Mr. Weston had clapped the latter on his back and said, "We used to joke about Emma marrying Frank, but I always said it wouldn't do. No, she has her mind set on some other fellow, and poor Frank will be heartbroken. It is a good thing he has Miss Fairfax. A good thing indeed!"