Just a little more misunderstandings! :D
X
"Sir, wake up! Sir!"
"What's wrong?" Mr. Knightley opened his bleary eyes, a little vexed.
"Miss Smith has called. Miss Woodhouse said you are going to see her."
Mr. Knightley frowned, "what time is it?"
"Ten to eleven. Sir."
"Why didn't you awake me earlier?" Mr. Knightley demanded querulously, instinctively trying to sit up but only letting out a painful cry.
"Careful Sir!" Riley held him tight promptly, having not a care to explain why.
Mr. Knightley held his breath for a moment to tolerate the pain and exhaled, "That's alright, dress me."
"Pardon? Sir?"
"I said dress me."
"But you cannot get dressed now!"
"I think it's you who said Miss Smith was waiting for me."
"Yes. But..."
"Dress me." Repeated Mr. Knightley simply and firmly, having no extra energy to argue with him after staying awake all night.
Riley was sure this was the toughest task he had ever confronted. At least for three times he simply could not proceed and tried to persuade his master to give up his persistence. He failed of course.
At length Mr. Knightley was properly dressed, with face pale with pain and shirt socked with cold sweat. He moved to a small sitting room next door and slumped into the sofa waiting for Emma, and Harriet.
He was started by Emma's paleness, and confused by her inexplicable nervousness. But he had to draw his attention back as Harriet was enquiring after him with eagerness and worry and sincerity.
He thanked her warmly, reassured that he was very well, and asked about her doings in these days.
Emma was started too by Mr. Knightley's paleness and formal dress. She could hardly imagine how he put that formfitting tailcoat on with so many healing broken bones. But she was soon distracted by the way these two talked. Mr. Knightley showed a great curiosity about something which seemed improper to be laid out in public, while his meaningful words and smile made Harriet blush.
Emma said only one word greeting Mr. Knightley after entering the room. She was now sitting in a chair beside Harriet across from him, wringing her hands unconsciously and biting her lower lip hardly. But maybe she should excuse herself running some errands to leave room for them to talk openly, as well as for her own sake. She could no longer trust herself to maintain tolerable composure.
"I believe we need some tea, excuse me." Emma got up in such a hurry, almost tripped over the chair.
It took Emma quite a while to order the tea, much longer than it should. And Emma found both Mr. Knightley and Harriet were in high spirits when she finally came back.
"Miss Woodhouse!" Harriet, deeply blushing, with unconcealed cheerfulness, turned eagerly to Emma who was still standing by the door. "I have been trying to consult you about a matter hanging over my mind these days, but didn't get the chance. And I think you deserve to know the news at the earliest time as you are such a best friend and have been so kind to me."
Emma offered a wry smile, knowing that she could not escape the topic any more like she had successfully done for days, including this morning. "Thank you Harriet, I'm glad to hear it."
"Miss Woodhouse," Harriet paused, looking at her in a controlled joyful manner and a little nervous, "I'm engaged to be married."
"Engaged!" Emma cried out, turning deadly pale instantly at the word, could only be on her feet by reaching out one hand against the door frame. "So soon?" Her voice trailed off, almost inaudible.
"Yes..." Harriet was a little disheartened by Emma's over-reaction, "I have been thinking about that this may upset you, but..."
"Oh no, Harriet, it didn't. I'm sorry. I believe I must be too happy to be myself. Please forgive me and accept my best wishes. I wish you joy with all my heart as your best friend." Emma was too ashamed of her dreadful manner just now, which must have hurt her friend's feelings, to dwell on the consequences of this engagement. She hurried over to Harriet, holding her hands with hers, bursting out her congratulations as heartily as she could.
When she had comforted Harriet and saw a genuinely delightful smile on her face, she turned slowly around towards the direction where Mr. Knightley was seated. She had promised the moment when he got injured that she would offer her congratulations to him. No matter how cruel it was to her, she would keep her word and try to learn to be truly happy for him.
"Mr. Knightley," Stammered Emma, avoiding eye contact with him, "I con..."
"Miss Woodhouse," Harriet's excitement prevented her from observing Emma's oddity, "Mr. Knightley has given his consent. Will I be too bold to assume that you will attend our wedding too, which will be held in a fortnight?"
Emma snapped her head up, eyes shifting between Mr. Knightley and Harriet, totally bewildered. "Harriet, who are you to marry?" Managed she finally.
"Mr. Martin, of course!"
Emma stared at Harriet with uncommonly wide-open eyes for a few seconds, and then scared her by a sudden, most enthusiastic hug. "Oh Harriet, I'm so happy for you..." But she checked herself at once and talked about something regarding the wedding with sincerest, most heartfelt cheerfulness which successfully caught Harriet's attention and glossed over her own ridiculousness.
Emma had only stolen a quick glance at Mr. Knightley since she discovered whom Harriet was to marry. When Harriet took her leave before long for fear of wearing Mr. Knightley out, Emma made no further exchange with him except a slight curtsey before escorting Harriet out.
She parted with Harriet at the gate of garden, turning back and taking a peek at Mr. Knightley's window, walking slowly to the house in deep thought. The whole situation was a mess to her and she wasn't sure what to do next. She had known from Harriet that her little friend had mistaken her gratitude and admiration to Mr. Knightley as affection, and had resumed her passion immediately when Robert Martin proposed to her again with Mr. Knightley's sanction. So Mr. Knightley wasn't to marry anyone at all.
She was extremely relieved and content. They could be good friends still. Mr. Knightley would dine with them and read in their sitting room after dinner nearly every day. She truly had nothing extravagant to expect.
But she would be happier if she had never examined and known her own heart. She yearned to see him at this moment even if she got nothing to say and just watched him sleep. But Mr. Knightley had implied yesterday that their doings wasn't right, if it's not for Harriet's sake, it must be for the etiquette that she, a young lady with birth and education, shouldn't break, he even had set an example just now by dressing himself in this difficult, almost impossible condition.
Mr. Knightley hadn't moved a finger since Emma left the room, stunning at a vague conclusion he was trying hard to draw. Images of Emma's countenance and reactions, the shock and despair, the relief and ecstasy, played over and over again in his mind which was all in a muddle right now. What did all those mean?
Emma was no doubt delighted at Harriet's marrying Robert, though he didn't know what had altered her so completely but it didn't matter. And obviously she had mistaken the identity of the fiance at first, then who was the man she was reckoning? Why did that man being the fiance strike her so much?
It's not too difficult to narrow down the range thanks to Emma's simple social connections, there's few eligible men who was moving in the same circle with both Emma and Harriet. He could almost name the man when Elton and Frank Churchill had both settled down, though he couldn't figure out where she got such an absurd idea.
And he shivered at the second WHY. Did he dare to think as he wanted?
He needed to see Emma, now! He rose to his feet abruptly and pained himself, but nothing could stop him from staggering to the window and seeing Emma entering the house. He got back to his room, sat down in the chair, got up, paced the room, sat down again, moved to sit on the bed, got up again...He bustled restlessly for he didn't know how long, but at least long enough for Emma to get up and down stairs ten times over, and she didn't show up.
Mr. Knightley sat in the chair where Emma used to sit, depressed.
He was cheered up by a knock at the door and was knocked down again when Riley came in with his late breakfast. "Sir, your favorite apple pie."
Mr. Knightley shot him a sulking glance, making no answer.
Riley put the food tray on the table, looking at him compassionately and searching for some words to say.
"I'm tired, undress me." Muttered Mr. Knightley finally.
Riley reacted promptly at this order, going to one nightstand first and getting to Mr. Knightley's side with a pair of scissors in hand.
"What are you doing?" Mr. Knightley was baffled.
"Cut your clothes off, of course."
"Since when have you been this generous?"
"The first day I got here, Miss Woodhouse told me so." Riley couldn't be more decisive and nimble, a sleeve had broken away as he was speaking.
Mr. Knightley winced at the fate of his second favorite tails, but soon lost his interest in it. "Did you see Miss Woodhouse?"
"Yes, I saw her in the kitchen just now."
"Did she…say anything?"
"No." Riley peeked at his master from the corner of his eye when busying himself cutting his shirt, what naughty things have you done to annoy the lovely Miss Woodhouse, why didn't she come to see you?
Mr. Knightley had a restless sleep that Emma left him alone too in his dreams. When he struggled to wake up and unconsciously looked around, there's still an empty chair over there. He smiled wryly to himself for all his wishful thinking, even if he was the assumed man, she may simply don't want him to get married, which would leave her absolutely alone, and would deprive Henry of his claim on Donwell Abbey.
But at least she cared about him and he was still her good friend. And he longed for her company even as only a friend.
But he had apologized for his behavior yesterday, if his doings were wrong, so were hers. How could Emma, so intelligent and well bred a young lady, repeat the errors that he, her lifelong mentor had indicated? He groaned ruefully at his stupidity, planning an apology for his apologies.
Another knock at the door drew him back from his thoughts and didn't excite him. When he was sober, he could easily tell it wasn't Emma.
It's Riley with his dinner. He rolled over in bed to give Riley only his back. Riley took a glance at his untouched breakfast, turning extremely worried, "Sir..."
Mr. Knightley ignored him, and turned to another side when Riley stepped up and tried to face him.
"Sir, have some food please..."
"Keep it, I'm full."
"How possible? You didn't eat anything today!" Riley wanted to cry.
Mr. Knightley kept his silence.
"I shouldn't tell Miss Woodhouse you're well." Muttered Riley.
"What?" Mr. Knightley was roused by the name Riley mentioned.
"Miss Woodhouse asked after you just now, and I said you were well."
"So I'm well." Sulked Mr. Knightley.
"Maybe I should complain to the Mistress of the house that I cannot cope with her most difficult guest."
"Then why are you still here?"
"Could I?" Riley's eyes lightened, vanishing from the room in a second. He always learned from his master of never troubling others, but Miss Woodhouse shouldn't be counted in of course.
Mr. Knightley regretted his thoughtlessness when hearing Emma's rapid footsteps. She must be scared by who knew what Riley had told her. In the blink of an eye, the door was cracked open and Emma rushed into the room. "Are you alright? Did you get hurt this morning?"
"I'm fine, Emma! Don't take Riley's nonsense." (What an ungrateful fellow! ← _←)
"But he said you didn't eat anything today!"
"I'm just not hungry, nothing serious." He tried to sit up, but only suffered from the consequences of his overexertion in the morning.
Emma took one step forward trying to help him, but halted with a second thought.
Mr. Knightley cursed himself inwardly and reached out his hand to her. Emma offered a little smile before taking it and helping him up, and then turned to get his supper, "You should eat something."
"Emma!" He grabbed her arm, "I promise I will eat later. But for now could you please talk to me for a while?" He wasn't sure what he was going to say exactly, he simply wanted to speak to her, everything or anything.
Emma consent, intending to sit in her usual chair, but Mr. Knightley didn't mean to let go of her arm and she had to sit on the bed. She took a brief glance at his eyes then looked away, guessing what he was to say.
"Emma…"
Emma looked up at him, waiting.
"I'm sorry."
"What for this time?"
Mr. Knightley blushed at his inconsistency, "For… for everything I did."
Emma frowned, "But you didn't do anything wrong, actually you have been so kind and brave."
Mr. Knightley sighed, maybe not, maybe entirely. "Emma, we are old friends, right?"
"Yes, of course."
"And... I was always welcome to Hartfield, I suppose?"
"Of course you were, and you always will be, anytime! Did I do anything wrong to offend you?" Emma tensed up.
"No, you didn't!" He touched her hand to assure her. "And… you want me to be happy?"
"Yes," Emma lowered her eyes, coloring a little, "I cannot bear to see you suffering, any sort."
"So you will do things that you do not even like sometimes to make me happy?"
"If it could make you happy, I think I'll be glad to do it," She paused and added, "anything."
Mr. Knightley was dejected at Emma's answer, why couldn't she be a little selfish, thinking only of herself?
Emma was puzzled and uneasy at Mr. Knightley's plain upset, "I thought it's the duty of a good friend."
"But I don't want to be the good friend…" Mr. Knightley burst out without thinking twice, mind spinning on how to proceed.
Emma wasn't the type of crying easily in front of others, not even Mr. Knightley. But she simply couldn't help on hearing this from him. Tears poured down her cheeks instantly without a tiny noise, though she didn't understand why he said so all at once.
Mr. Knightley struggled out of his frustration and looked up, and was scared to death by what he saw. "Emma? Oh gosh! My dear Emma, I didn't mean that!"
"Emma, please!" He was too panic-struck to even find a handkerchief, could only used his sleeve to wipe her tears and made a real mess.
Emma let out a slight chuckle at his fumble which finally calmed him a little. He took her hand in his and pressed it, "Emma, I only wanted to say...I mean..." He hesitated again, but felt he could no longer suppress his eagerness.
"Emma, tell me, would you allow me to win your affections, not as a good friend, but a man?"
Emma lifted her head abruptly, gazing at his eyes, petrifying.
"Emma, I beg you, do not say yes if you don't want to. I promise I will never leave you. I will always be your good friend as long as you allow me to. I know you adore me, and you will do anything to make me happy as you just said. But Emma, you must know, you are the love of my life, I could never be happy if you are not."
Emma kept staring at him but gradually recovered from freezing at his confession and leaned slowly in until resting her cheek on his shoulder, "Mr. Knightley," She made a little noise which was half sob, half laugh, "you're the kindest, finest, and the stupidest man I've ever known."
It's Mr. Knightley's turn to be petrifying. He kept perfectly still except stammering, "Emma, what do you...Are you saying..."
"You want my answer?"
"Absolutely!"
"Then try another way to ask."
"Another way?"
"Don't you want to know whether I love you, Mr. Knightley?"
Mr. Knightley gasped, taking a deep breath to find his voice, "Emma, do you...love me?"
"Yes, Mr. Knightley," Emma sobbed with joy and relief, "desperately, hopelessly, unconditionally."
All of a sudden a strong arm wrapped her shoulder and pressed her into his chest so tightly as if she was to melt in there. She sighed contentedly, nestling against him, enjoying his warm, passionate, and powerful caress.
But she soon began to struggle to free herself.
"Don't, Emma." He held her tighter.
"Mr. Knightley, let go of me."
"No!"
"I'm hurting you!"
"I need the pain to remind me that I'm not dreaming."
"Mr. Knightley..." Emma was affected but could not be eased, and Mr. Knightley was too strong for her to get rid of. "Don't you want to...," She lowered her voice to a whisper and successfully sparked his curiosity. He pushed her a little farther to look at her.
But when he saw her beautiful teary eyes, silky pink cheeks and seductive soft lips, his mind was occupied by only one thing, one thing that made his heart skip a beat or two. He lowered his head to hers slowly while she closed her eyes lightly.
Mr. Knightley had never thought that Emma was this delicious, smelling like roses, tasting like honey. He kissed and bit ravenously at her lips, swearing that he would never let her go even though Mr. Woodhouse was walking in at this very moment.