A/N: Oops… kind of forgot about this story, sorry. Will try and finish it off in a more timely fashion. Please review with your thoughts!

Chapter Three

'Within half an hour, he had passed from a thoroughly distressed state of mind, to something so like perfect happiness, that it could bear no other name.

Her change was equal. – This one half hour had given to each the same precious certainty of being beloved, had cleared from each the same degree of ignorance, jealousy or distrust.'

- "Emma", pg. 419

From a distance, the fair-haired young man and the dark-haired young woman sitting together on the bench by the lake with their heads bent close, looked like the inhabitants of some idyllic pastoral landscape.

From a closer vantage point, Mr. Woodhouse and Miss Knightley would have been the Highbury gossip's dream come true could he or she have witnessed them. They sat close, and spoke with the freedom and ease that came from a lifelong friendship; however, there was some new delight, some wondrous change in the way their eyes lingered on each other's faces with a new softness and their fingers were decidedly intertwined.

For Edmund it was strange and yet completely natural at the same time. He felt like his whole life had been spent in loving Georgiana, and although there was still the highly agreeable shock of having to accustom himself to being far happier than he deserved, there was also the deep sense that this had been in the making their whole lives and that nothing could have prevented it (even if he had unknowingly made a fairly thorough attempt at it).

Georgiana's smile was irrepressible and her cheeks were flushed with delight after listening to his woeful confessions. 'So you thought Henry was talking about me?'

Edmund knew that he had not mistaken or misheard Henry; the facts had been all too blatantly discussed between them as he had tried to find out the extent to which Henry had managed to succeed with Georgiana. However, clearly something had happened between then and now, because Henry was – by all accounts most happily – engaged to Maria Roberts, who had happened to be staying with the London Woodhouses on his sister-in-law's invitation. He decided in that moment that there was no need to pursue that topic further, for Georgiana's belief might as well be the truth now. 'I must have misunderstood him,' was all he said aloud about it. 'But I am glad of it, for that was what alerted me to my own feelings. That is my story,' he finished, looking down at her curiously, hoping that she would now elaborate on the strange, unaccountable, wonderful circumstance of her loving him in return.

She took the hint, laughter sparkling in her eyes. 'I'm afraid it's terribly incompatible with the accepted nature of romance which novels would have us believe in,' she said, mock-apologetically, 'but I've known that I have been in love with you for far longer than you knew of your feelings – it started when Fanny Churchill arrived, or perhaps it even began when she was expected to come.'

Edmund knew he should not be so ridiculously pleased as he was, but to think that Georgiana had loved him so long, had loved him even then when he had deserved it even less than he did now, was more dangerously flattering than any of Fanny Churchill's flirtatious compliments. As she rested her head on his shoulder, he tightened the hold of his arm around her.

'I saw my life at Hartfield in a different light,' she continued, 'exposed to others, vulnerable and defenceless if they chose to plunder it. Our easy, cheerful manner of meeting so often and talking of anything and everything, the feeling that I was welcome at Hartfield at any time – all that would be over. If you married, someone else would be the first, the chosen, the dearest, the wife, the friend to whom you would turn – someone else would be the one whose society you valued above all others; above mine. I don't think I realised how important it was to me to be the first in your affections until there was the dread of being supplanted by her.'

Then the shadow of her old heartache crossed her face as she lifted her head off his shoulder to look up at him. 'I saw you, as I thought, enamoured of Miss Churchill – and it was all the worse because I never believed her to deserve you. I knew you could be so much more than she could ever have any idea of, and I felt that you were being influenced by her for the worse, and were slowly becoming like her.'

Edmund's smile faded as his own shameful behaviour was brought once more to the forefront of his mind. His eyes met Georgiana's for a moment, before she rested her head on his shoulder once more. The mention of Box Hill did not pass her lips, and she moved her explanation on quickly for fear of having given pain. 'That was why I went to London,' she said softly. 'I could not bear to watch you with her anymore, and so I thought if I spent some time away from you I could learn to be indifferent.' She squeezed his hand, smiling slightly. 'Just so you know, it was utterly useless – the feelings don't go away.'

Edmund pressed his lips to the top of her head, loving her for being so honest with him when there appeared to be a pervading belief in existence that a woman should never admit to partiality for a man beginning until after he had proposed to her. But then they had never exactly been conventional – and he was glad of it.

Edmund had been pacing nervously outside Mr. Knightley's study for the past half hour, agitated despite Georgiana's attempts to calm him down. 'What if he doesn't give his blessing?' he asked anxiously. 'What if he hates me? What if he refuses his consent?'

She took both his hands in hers, forcing him to stop his pacing. 'Edmund,' she said emphatically, 'I know Papa loves you like a son already. He's just teasing you by making you wait. Don't worry – he knows how happy you make me; he would never refuse.'

Edmund sighed softly, leaning his forehead against hers. 'Thank you,' he said, moving forward slightly to place a soft kiss upon her lips.

'Mr. Woodhouse, if you could unhand my daughter, I would be happy to receive you in my study now.' The dry comment caused Edmund to immediately jump away from her.

The blood drained out of his face before it rushed back with a vengeance, causing his ears to turn pink. He swallowed, but held his head high, venturing no apology. He loved Georgiana, and he knew his own behaviour after their engagement had always been gentlemanly, despite a strong temptation founded on his own desires and the instinctive knowledge that she would not protest if he took some liberties. However, his mother had brought him up to be a man of honour, and whatever his other faults, his principles had never been lacking.

He turned to look at Georgiana one last time before he followed her father inside, and she gave him an encouraging smile. Once he was inside the study, Mr. Knightley shut the door. 'Sit, Mr. Woodhouse,' he said curtly, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

Edmund sat, with the feeling that this proceeding was somewhat ludicrous. To Mr. Knightley he had had always been Eddie or Ed – even "Edmund" had been reserved only for formal occasions.

For several seconds Mr. Knightley regarded him sternly over steepled fingers. Then he began speaking. 'I gather that you wish to marry my daughter; is that correct?' Edmund nodded, somewhat nervous at the older man's demeanour. 'You do realise, Mr. Woodhouse, that you have been making her dreadfully unhappy for the past several months?'

Edmund blanched. 'She told you about that?'

Mr. Knightley raised an eyebrow. 'She is my daughter, Mr. Woodhouse. I could hardly have failed to observe it. There were other things I did not fail to observe also.'

Edmund coloured deeply. He knew that he and Fanny Churchill had widely wagged tongues and raised conjectures with their behaviour. 'I cannot make any excuses, sir,' he said, forcing himself to meet the older man's eyes. 'I was wrong about many things, and I am sincerely sorry that any actions of mine hurt Georgiana. I love her, sir, and I would never have intentionally given her pain.' It had been so natural with him to call her by her Christian name that it slipped out of his mouth now; belatedly he wished he had stuck to formality – it might have served him better in this circumstance.

But Mr. Knightley nodded slowly, seemingly ruminating on his words. By and by, he looked at Edmund with a glint of amusement in his eyes. 'Will that do?' he asked.

Edmund's brow creased in confusion. 'Will what do, sir?'

'Have I fulfilled my role as the stern and forbidding father well enough, do you think, Ed? Or should I make you squirm in your seat a little more before I give my consent?' He was now smiling, and Edmund's face similarly broke into a grin, as relieved as it was happy.

'I think that should be sufficient, sir,' he said, laughing.

'Very well – then I can only offer you my sincerest congratulations and my confidence in your future happiness. Take good care of her, now.'

Edmund nodded in acquiescence, unable to stop smiling as they shook hands. If only his mother would receive the news so well, then he would have nothing to wish for.