A/N: Sorry it took so long to write this. Real life intruded. Thank you so very much to those who reviewed. It makes me feel like someone is actually reading. Enjoy!
Also, I like Frank Churchill (from the BBC version). I think he's immature and a bit egotistical, and he has to learn his lesson just as Emma learned hers.
Chapter IV
By Jenni
"Good God, what an idea!" Frank Churchill exclaimed, throwing Jane's letter upon the desk. He had sequestered himself in his dressing room for half an hour to enjoy what a missive he expected to contain only those endearments his beloved generally employed, a statement of how oppressed she found life in Highbury without him, a brief list of her aunt's quirks, and a slightly longer one detailing Mrs. Elton's latest transgressions. Yet here at the end was not merely Jane's familiar, fond closing, but an additional article of local gossip proclaiming that charming, delightful Miss Emma Woodhouse was to marry that disagreeable Mr. George Knightley, a man who might be ten or even twenty years her senior, to be sure! He was an honorable man, of course, whom Frank would never dare criticize when there was a chance that one of his listeners might leap to his defense—but he could not imagine a person more severe. The evidence supporting his opinion was that he preferred his own gelding to Frank's black stallion, that he never flinched in Mrs. Elton's company but always appeared supremely interested, and that on Box Hill he had overheard him from afar chastise Miss Woodhouse like a child. That Miss Woodhouse must be forever subject to such oppression was intolerable.
Frank had never suspected the attachment for a moment; had never even thought to himself in his greatest moments of danger, when he felt he might be cultivating Miss Woodhouse's friendship too well for his liking, that it might be a good thing for Mr. Knightley to supplant him. For despite what he had written in his letter to Mrs. Weston, Frank Churchill had not always been certain that Miss Woodhouse was perfectly indifferent to him. He had only sensed his attentions were not of a kind capable of attaching her. Considering the hidden guilt he had never dared admit even to himself, some might expect the news of Miss Woodhouse's engagement to ease his conscience. He himself was surprised when it did not, and he sat for a long time in quiet distress that would not be put to rest when he had ascertained its cause. Only the dinner announcement reclaimed his attention, and for his uncle's sake he put Miss Woodhouse out of his mind so that he might appear to enjoy his veal and custard as tolerably as man in heavy mourning is allowed to enjoy anything.
Late that night, however, when he had retired for the evening, he found the unchecked weight of self-reflection pressing upon his shoulders once more. That energetic young woman and that man, who had never offered him a kind word if he could help it. Droll and unpleasant at every turn, the stern master of Donwell Abbey had never appealed to Frank, whose set in male society had never welcomed anyone lacking his own affability and openness of manner. It had not dawned on him that Mr. Knightley, viewing him as a rival, had treated him with the animosity on purpose, and that such behavior evidenced the deeper sensibility of which Frank presently considered him incapable. Accustomed to being liked, unable to comprehend what faults he might possess to prevent his popularity from being universal, Frank truly disliked Mr. Knightley, but felt that until now he had not known it. With this realization, came a new, unsettling feeling. Why should he mind if Miss Woodhouse married Mr. Knightley? What claim upon Miss Woodhouse, apart from friendship, did he have that should cause him to begrudge the match? He did not wish to marry her himself, but he was very far from wishing her ill. Frank thought her one of the most amiable women of his acquaintance; he enjoyed her smiles, her praise, her teasing; and although it inspired no passion in him, he found he could not relinquish the idea of being first in her eyes to one such as Mr. Knightley. How could it have happened?
No matter how many recollections of his time in Highbury Frank called to mind, it remained his firm conviction that Miss Woodhouse could not love Mr. Knightley. He had never seen it in her eye or any blush or manner of speaking, but always spoke of Mr. Knightley as one would expect a family friend to be spoken of. "Mr. Knightley will call in an hour," or "Mr. Knightley attaches greater importance to the balance of carriage wheels than to the carriage itself," or, most damning in Frank's opinion, "Dear me, Mr. Knightley would not approve of how we gossip."
Frank Churchill relied on Jane's judgment of character and motive, but in supposing Emma Woodhouse to be sincerely attached to Mr. Knightley, she was undoubtedly as mistaken as she had been that July when she accused him of being attached to Miss Woodhouse, unleashing such venomous and stinging words that he still shuddered to think of it. "If you say you do not love her, and still pay her such attentions, then you are twenty times less the man than that figment of a man whom I have erred in holding so high in my estimation. For she is half in love with you, and I am much mistaken if the whole of Highbury does not think you already bound to her in honor."
Jane's angry speech had been all but forgotten in recent weeks, but they flashed across Frank's mind like wildfire. He stumbled over the truth like a man blunders into an unseen ditch. He had done Emma Woodhouse grievous wrong in flirting so openly last spring and summer. He must have engaged her affections at some point and she, being disappointed, had accepted the first proposal she received from someone else. She was determined to save face, and in doing so she would make herself the most miserable creature on God's earth; and it was no one's fault but his own!