Emma watched Harriet enter the room and attempt to conceal the fact that she had been weeping. She had passed by Harriet's bedchamber before going down to breakfast and heard the sobs. Thankfully Mr. Woodhouse's rooms were at the other end of the corridor, and he had not been disturbed by it all.
"Harriet, my dear, please sit. I will get your plate." Emma selected a few of Harriet's favourites in small portions and sat down next to her. "While we eat, will you tell me what is troubling you?" She could not extract even a monosyllable in response. "I think I can guess," she said, finally, as Harriet appeared on the verge of crying again.
Emma turned her chair to face her friend and took a deep breath. She had resolved, upon awakening, to assist Harriet in finding her happiness even at the expense of her own ambitions for her. "I hesitate to mention the particulars, but if you are regretting a certain decision," and here she gave Harriet an inquiring glance which was answered in a barrage of tears, "then I would venture to say that all is not lost." She took her friend's hands in her own. "People change their minds every day." She tried to make light of it with her speech even as the burden of her task grew heavier. "Surely you must be allowed to reconsider something as important as...well, I did say I would not mention it if it troubles you to speak of it plainly. But I assure you that I will support you in whatever you decide." I will, I will support her, even as far as Abbey Mill Farm. She grimaced. Yes! I can do this. "I believe I spoke too quickly in professing that we could no longer be acquainted under certain circumstances." She looked down at their hands. It must be the case. Mr. Knightley respected Mr. Martin a great deal; surely there was hope in that.
At those words Harriet's head came up. She looked hard at her companion to assure herself that she had not imagined the scene before her. She had come to the breakfast room prepared to sacrifice her friendship with Miss Woodhouse and take herself and her trunk back to Mrs. Goddard's. Now such a drastic measure seemed unnecessary. Had Mr. Martin gained consequence overnight? What had made Miss Woodhouse change her mind? She had said people did so every day. Perhaps there was nothing more to it.
"Miss Woodhouse," Harriet began, "you are right. I do wish I had another opportunity to reply to Mr. Martin's letter. I believe he could make me very happy. But now," she paused to contain her sobs, "I fear I shall never see him, or my friend Elizabeth, again. Surely they will not want to speak to me after what I wrote! They must be so angry with me!" She gave full expression to her sorrow.
After consoling her friend as best she could, Emma dispatched a note to Mrs. Weston and awaited the reply.
Georgiana was confused and apprehensive when Anne de Bourgh, sans Lady Catherine, sans Mrs. Jenkinson, walked through the door of her London home. Then several things happened that were very wrong. First, her sickly cousin, looking pale but unusually cheerful, smiled and greeted her enthusiastically. Second, her brother smiled - broadly - and directed the servants to take Miss de Bourgh's trunks to a guest chamber. Third, the Colonel laughed and told her what fun she would have now Anne was here!
By the time everything had been explained to her satisfaction and the four relations had passed a most pleasant day in each other's company, Georgiana was almost disappointed that Anne was not to become Mrs. Darcy after all.
"Robert!" Elizabeth Martin called to her brother before he reached the back door. "A carriage has come, and I think it belongs to Miss Woodhouse."
"I saw it. I have no wish to stay."
"Perhaps Harriet is with her!"
"Do not detain me any longer, Elizabeth. I would go."
"Robert, don't be a simpleton. This may be your chance...Robert!"
She watched helplessly as her brother rushed out the door and slammed it shut. Miss Martin hurried back to the parlour to receive their guest along with her mother and sister. Miss Woodhouse had indeed come, and without Harriet.
Emma found her pride rebelling against her intentions. Can Harriet really want to live in this place, among these people? She greeted the family with as little condescension as she could manage and took a moment to look about the modest home. "You have a pretty room here, Mrs. Martin," she began. After the exchange of half a dozen sentences, the moment was upon her. She addressed the lady of the house. "I have not had the privilege of conversing with your son, but I hear he is an admirable, intelligent young man. Mr. Knightley always speaks highly of him."
"I thank you, Miss Woodhouse." Mrs. Martin eyed the young lady curiously. "Robert has gone out to the fields, just now, in fact. I imagine he will be sorry to have missed your call," she said with thinly veiled sarcasm. Both her daughters lowered their eyes.
Emma took the barb with good grace. Perhaps he may be when I tell you what I have really come to say. No sense in delaying it further. "Some weeks ago it was my great pleasure to become acquainted with a young woman you know well, Miss Harriet Smith. It is concern for her which brings me here today."
Miss Martin looked up with a tight face. Mrs. Martin, her mouth turned down at the corners, simply waited for the insults she was sure Miss Woodhouse had come to level at her household.
"In fact," Emma continued, "it may be providential that we are all women here. Some matters are more easily discussed among members of one's own sex." She took a breath and tried very hard not to look the spoiled little girl that Mr. Knightley at times accused her of being. I am doing this for Harriet. She deserves to be happy, and as her misery was formed by my own hand, I have no choice. "Our mutual friend is in poor spirits. I know she was very happy during the months she spent here and has nothing but praise for you, Mrs. Martin, and each of your children." Emma paused, hoping that one of the ladies would interject a comment, change the subject, anything so that she would not have to humble herself further. Someone may yet save her from having to pay a call on Mrs. Robert Martin in future. No one intervened. She sighed. "Harriet would like very much to call on you, but she fears that circumstances, recent circumstances have made it awkward if not impossible. She is worried, in short, that she will not be welcome here."
All three ladies disclaimed the idea. Elizabeth Martin protested most vigorously. "Harriet has done nothing to forfeit our regard." She was glad now that Robert had not heeded her plea to remain indoors. "She is always welcome at Abbey Mill Farm."
Emma's face showed relief tinged with disappointment. Yet it was hard to persist in her opinion of these people when they were so forgiving. She needed to think differently about them if she and Harriet were to remain close. "I am sure Harriet will be delighted and grateful to hear it," she finally responded. "She deeply regrets any estrangement from this household." Emma swallowed hard before making her final comment on the subject. "I believe she wishes most of all that things would be as they once were, that her intimacy with all your family might be restored."
Mrs. Martin was not sure that she could ever like Miss Woodhouse after the disappointment she had caused her son. She was certain the lady was behind it. She, like Robert, believed Harriet to be very fond of him, though she considered them both a little young to marry and would have preferred that they wait another year or two. Still she could appreciate Miss Woodhouse's gesture and was sensible of her condescension in coming all this way to mend what she must wish to see permanently broken. What a blow to her pride for all her particular attention to her new friend to culminate in this! Perhaps she truly cared for Harriet's happiness. Perhaps that excellent Mr. Knightley had given her a set-down. Whatever the cause, Mrs. Martin was thankful for it. Her son had been a miserable wretch for two days together, and she hated to see any of her children suffer.
"Miss Woodhouse," she offered, "I thank you for your concern. I will add my assurances to Elizabeth's. Harriet may call on us at her convenience. We shall be very pleased to have her company." She made sure to catch the eye of her guest as she said, "I quite look upon her as my own daughter."
Emma only nodded. She was as satisfied as she had a right to be. Her task was complete, and if Mr. Martin was not one to resent the past, Harriet's happiness was assured.
Acting purely in another's interest and trusting in someone else's opinion and good sense had been onerous work. As she noted the pleased expressions on the faces of Harriet's future in-laws, she wished she had been a more tractable charge for 'poor Miss Taylor,' as her father stubbornly called her former governess, and less used to having her own way in every thing. Her one consolation, other than the end of Harriet's misery, was that Mr. Knightley was the last man in the world who would intentionally send her on a fool's errand. True, he had not sent her to the Martins' home - in fact, he had no idea she was there and may not even agree with what she had done - but he would never have opposed her so strongly about the business with Harriet had he not considered the error to be a grave one. And under no circumstances did she wish to repeat the events of the previous morning's walk. She took leave and hurried out to her waiting carriage where she could indulge her turbulent thoughts in relative comfort.
Across town from the Darcys, Charles Bingley was experiencing a nasty shock. He held in his hand a letter that he had wrested from Caroline before she could break the seal. He was very thankful she had not succeeded, for had she read it, he never would have known of its existence. Caroline would have burned it forthwith.
The question before him was, what to do now? Should he barge in on Jane's relations in Gracechurch Street, plead an audience with their niece, and beg her forgiveness? Should he gallop over to Darcy's house and break his nose? Should he bar his sister from Netherfield? Sisters, that is; Louisa had deceived him as well. Perhaps he should cut short his financial assistance and let them fend for themselves. He would no longer pay for their fancy gowns and fancier dinner parties while they cruelly misused someone as innocent and kind as Jane Bennet.
What must Jane think? She very likely had been led to believe that he did not care for her. What were her feelings now? Was she disappointed? Bitter? Darcy's letter indicated that she pined for him, that she was as miserable as he was. That could not be allowed to continue. He had been a fool not to return to her before. He would remain one if he failed to seek her out now.
Bingley's anger at Darcy was quickly giving way to gratitude for such precious information as he had received at his hands. His sisters were another matter, but he was not ready to face them yet. The weather was very fine. He called for his horse.
"But what will my mother say? Do you think she will allow it?" Anne directed the question to Darcy. Fitzwilliam was suggesting that the ladies visit his parents' house in town and then continue to their country estate for several weeks in the summer. Lady Catherine expected Anne to stay a fortnight with Darcy and Georgiana and had not granted permission for an extended time away from Rosings.
"Anne, as I promised your mother, I will have our physician attend you as soon as can be arranged. She knows of Dr. Thompson's excellent reputation. If he should pronounce you well enough, Lady Catherine will be satisfied."
The butler interrupted them. "Mr. Bingley to see you, sir."
"Show him to the study." Bingley must have read the note. Darcy could not recall when he had last seen his friend angry. He wondered how the man would look. He excused himself from the company of his sister and cousins and went to find out.
Chapter Six
The carriage stopped in front of Hartfield, not Randalls. Emma had ordered James to take her home without being aware of it. Just as well, she thought. I can have a little time to myself before facing Harriet. Besides, Mrs. Weston will no doubt want an explanation that I am ill prepared to give at the moment. She entered the house and found her father dawdling over a very late breakfast in the company of none other than Mr. Knightley.
"Emma! Has Miss Smith recovered? How is poor Miss Taylor?"
"Papa, Mrs. Weston is in perfect health and is the best sort of company for Harriet just now." Her voice trailed off. She did not wish to discuss the subject in front of both men.
"Has something happened? Is Miss Smith ill?" Mr. Knightley looked genuinely concerned.
"Nothing serious, I assure you. Our dear Mrs. Weston will charm all Miss Smith's melancholy away in no time at all." She made her choice; she would speak with Mr. Knightley. Better not to dwell on the subject with her father lest he summon Mr. Perry and send him over to Randalls. "Now, Sir," she addressed their guest, "I see that you have finished your coffee. May I show you my latest attempt at drawing? It is nothing much, hardly an outline, but I would have your opinion of it, if my father will be kind enough to spare you."
"Of course, my dear. You are so talented! By all means show Mr. Knightley your work."
"Thank you, Papa. I shall bring him back to you when we are done. Do not hurry your meal. Please take your time."
Emma whisked Mr. Knightley out of the room and guided him to a small parlour on the other side of the house where she kept her portfolio. She made a show of searching for a particular likeness but soon became discomposed by Mr. Knightley's hovering presence. "I confess I have no new work to show you," she told him. An idea occurred to her. "However, if you will help me, we can talk and have something to present to my father in the bargain." She began to set up her materials.
"What do you propose?"
"That you sit for me." Of all those closely connected with her, Mr. Knightley had never volunteered to be the subject of her artistic efforts, and she had never been bold enough to suggest it. Now such an arrangement would serve her purposes well. He could not express his anger towards her too passionately without spoiling the pose, and she would not have to face his piercing gaze while relating her story. And perhaps as she transferred his form to paper, she could begin to understand why thoughts of him had plagued her since the previous day, or how her feelings concerning him had become an unlikely mix of anger, sadness and longing.
He watched her for a moment, caught up in her energy. She was, as a rule, enthusiastic at the start of a new venture, and just now she quite looked the part of the accomplished, industrious young lady she had never truly striven to be. "You cannot be serious," he said when she appeared ready to begin.
"Do you want to hear about Harriet or not?" She directed him to the chair across from her.
"Emma!"
"Sit! Please. And turn away from me. No. Yes! Like that...Perfect. Now stay still."
He rolled his eyes, but did as she bade him. He sat in silence for a few minutes, trying not to be uncomfortable and wondering whether to tell her about his visit to Abbey Mill Farm. "Emma, what is the matter with Harriet Smith?" he asked her, finally. "And why may I not look at you?"
"Stop frowning. You are ruining it." Emma worked quickly, her hand flying back and forth across the page. She had caught his general shape and a few details. "You know very well what ails her," she eventually said. "We discussed it at length yesterday. Apparently you and Harriet are of one mind regarding Mr. Martin." After a few moments she added, "Though I do hope he is not very bitterly disappointed." She did not like to be the cause of another's suffering.
"A man cannot be more so." Knightley frowned again. So he was right - Miss Smith's heart had been touched. If only Emma had stayed out of it! But what was done was done. "I saw him yesterday, after I left you." He was becoming bored staring at the wall. He much preferred to look people in the eyes when he spoke to them. "I believe it will be a very long time before he can forget her." He scratched the bridge of his nose. "If he ever does."
"Does he intend to forget her now?" She hoped not, for Harriet's sake. Her eyes were flickering between Mr. Knightley and the paper. She had just hinted at his expression and was concentrating on the shoulders, ear and fall of his hair across his brow. From the chest down, she had captured his form tolerably well. The proportions were very good, if she did say so herself. He could not accuse her of making him too tall, but then his figure needed no embellishment.
Knightley did not catch her words at first, but once he did he stood up, completely disregarding their arrangement. "What do you expect him to do, pine for the girl for the rest of his life?"
Emma threw down her materials in exasperation. "No, of course not. I was just hopeful that his sentiments were genuine and would last at least another day or two, until Harriet gets the chance to call on him."
He looked at her, stupefied, before asking, "Is she silly enough to march over to Abbey Mill Farm and act as though nothing has happened?" He knew he should not have said it as soon as the words passed his lips.
Emma was shaking her head by now and holding back tears. She had not thought it would be so difficult or that he would hurt her so much. "I realise that you may not have a high opinion of my sex, but you wrong Harriet, and you insult me with your assumptions. Will you stop yelling at me for a moment so that I may tell you what has transpired?"
Knightley was taken aback by her words. "I apologise. I had raised my voice before I was aware of it." He had not meant to be uncivil to her. He certainly did not wish to alarm the servants or, heaven forbid, Mr. Woodhouse. He had not wanted his likeness taken; he detested being scrutinised in that way and unconsciously counterbalanced his feelings of vulnerability with aggressiveness. In a conciliatory effort he leaned over the table to look at the drawing. It was by no means complete, but he was easily recognizable as the subject. "It is a good beginning, Emma. Quite good, actually. But then you always begin well." She really was very talented, he thought.
"And I finish poorly? Don't say another word!" She held up her hand to silence any further comment. "You must hear me out, so you will know that I am capable of properly seeing a matter through to its completion." Her eyes were red with tears and fury. She pressed her hand to her forehead, staving off a headache "During my walk yesterday I had the opportunity to reconsider my part in this whole affair. Something...happened, on the grounds, something I do not profess to comprehend. There have been moments when I dearly wished to tell you all about it, but now I do not think I shall. It suffices to say that by the time I returned to the house, I was no longer sure I had been completely right to discourage Harriet's attachment to Mr. Martin. By evening I was even less certain. This morning when I arose, I vowed to promote Harriet's happiness whether or not I agreed with her method of obtaining it."
She swallowed before continuing. "Breakfast was a disaster. Harriet was inconsolable. After some prodding on my part, she told me she regretted refusing Mr. Martin but was afraid he would never speak to her again. I had to do something. If my father had come down and seen her in that state...you know that would never do. As things were unlikely to improve, I arranged for her to visit with Mrs. Weston while I paid a call on the Martins." She looked at the chair he had vacated minutes before, seeing his form there in her mind, recalling his posture, strong and unyielding, wishing he could be a little softer now for her sake. "Mr. Martin was out, but I spoke to his mother and sisters," she said, gaze still on the empty chair. "They made it very clear that Harriet is welcome there. If Mr. Martin is willing, he and Harriet both can be happy again. She is quite ready to give her heart to him. Perhaps she already has. All that remains is for her to say the word, and I shall take her to call on her friend Elizabeth Martin. I believe that is all I can do. Do you not agree?" She looked up at him. "Or is that insufficient to atone for my ill-conceived interference?"
Knightley's eyes were intense, his countenance inscrutable. "Oh, Emma," he breathed out as he walked over and grasped her hand. He opened his mouth to reply to all he had heard, searching for the right words.
Abruptly she pulled her hand back. She could not tell whether he was still angry with her. She decided to take no chances. "Do not chastise me, sir. I want none of it. And, pray, do not pity me for my pitiful judgement. I will not stay here and be patronised by you! That would be worse than enduring your triumph. After the day - nay, the days I have had, I simply am not equal to it." She continued in a calmer, colder voice. "You have blamed me and lectured me for as long as I can remember. I believe I am allowed, at nearly one and twenty, to declare, 'Enough.' Whatever virtues you have not instilled in me by now I shall have to do without." She stood and made a hasty attempt to tidy her things. "No doubt my father is still in the breakfast room and would be delighted with your company. I am sure you remember the way." She ran from the parlour just as the tears began to flow.
Bewildered, Knightley remained where he was for several minutes before departing the room in search of Mr. Woodhouse.
Anne closed her eyes and slid further under the covers on the spacious, comfortable bed. She had put on her nightgown and brushed out her hair with no interference from Georgiana's maid. The maid was pleasant enough and actually a welcome relief from her own at Rosings, who reported every little thing to her mother. Anne merely wished for a bit of independence, nothing more, just to know what it was like. She could not recall a time when she had been permitted to attempt the smallest task without assistance, and, indeed, without instruction.
She had taken a bold step in coming to London, and already she was reaping the rewards. She had always believed her reserved cousin could be charming when the situation demanded it, and he had charmed her mother into complying with her every wish for this unplanned visit. Unfortunately somewhere in the process Lady Catherine had formed the opinion that Darcy desired to present Anne to his household staff as the future mistress and to prepare the various rooms to her liking. The shock would be great when her ladyship was undeceived, and undeceived she must be. Now was not the time to dwell on future unpleasantness, however. The day had been far too enjoyable to conclude it with such thoughts.
Anne meant to enjoy herself thoroughly now that the doctor had proclaimed her fit enough to remain in town until the start of summer. Dr. Thompson had come straightaway, arriving after tea, and had examined her for several minutes. While he considered her constitution delicate at best, he found nothing to alarm and he did not think her overly pale. He gave her sensible advice on avoiding infectious illness, to which she was particularly susceptible, recommended exercise as long as she did not overexert herself, and encouraged her to keep sufficiently warm during the sometimes chilly spring evenings. He then asked many questions about when and how often she had been indisposed and what she ate and drank, and he listened carefully to her answers. To her surprise he urged her not to eat more but to eat differently, and to completely forego certain foods that appeared to increase her ailments. She considered the hour informative and very satisfactorily spent.
She found it satisfying as well to recall the fruits of her daily foray, as she termed it. She had not yet given up her habit of 'spying' in the afternoons. It was her one secret liberty, and she was loath to relinquish it. She supposed she ought to behave better, being a guest in her cousin's house, but it was too easy to continue in her old ways here. The servants did not run helter-skelter as they did at home, and those she encountered gave her a wide berth for fear of offending the daughter of the formidable Lady Catherine de Bourgh. In addition, her slight figure and retiring air rendered stealth superfluous. She receded into the background quite naturally.
From her vantage point in the shadows she had seen Mr. Bingley, who had been in the house for over an hour, emerge from the study at half past three. Though pressed by Darcy, Mr. Bingley declined tea, declaring he had much to do, and said something that made her cousin laugh, about the Bennets and becoming brothers at last and Caroline being in high dudgeon. Then the young man departed. She had watched him walk away and remarked to herself that he cut a very handsome figure in his blue coat.
Anne did not feel anything in particular for Mr. Bingley beyond a fleeting admiration of his form. Rather, she felt free, ever since she had released Darcy - and herself - from the threat of an unwanted alliance, to admire whomever she chose. She did not need to marry and for years had not wished it. Even now she might travel as her health permitted, or study, or reside in London half the year to partake of the delights of the season, whatever they may be. She might go from house to house, staying for long intervals with those relations who were happy to have her. And there was a much greater chance outside of Kent to become acquainted with an amiable gentleman who suited her tastes should she desire to marry after all. Now that her eyes were opened to the possibilities, perhaps she would be able to spot what her mother had refused to look for these many years - something or someone to help her move well beyond the dreariness that was her existence at Rosings Park.
"I am going to conduct some business at Netherfield. I should have seen to it months ago."
"But why now, Charles?" Two days ago he had received that letter from Mr. Darcy, the one she had almost opened herself. She had looked everywhere for it, even secretly searched his room, but she could not find it. Perhaps the answer was written there.
"I just told you - I have neglected it far too long already. I hesitated to go back into Hertfordshire for reasons you know very well, but those reasons no longer exist. It will not take long. I shall return within the week."
"Very well, then."
Caroline observed her brother carefully. What had he meant when he said the reasons no longer existed? Had he given up his attachment to Jane Bennet? Was Miss Bennet attached to another? She had seen no engagement announcement in the papers.
Charles did not appear happy about whatever business he thought he needed to personally oversee in Hertfordshire. Perhaps Mr. Darcy advised him to give up Netherfield. That would be welcome news. If her memory served her, Jane was still in town but would be leaving in early May. With any luck, she will be gone by the time he gets back. Good riddance! May their carriages pass each other on the London road!
Caroline felt a pang of guilt, for Jane Bennet truly was a sweet girl and one of the few people of her acquaintance who treated her with genuine kindness. She would have been an ideal sister if only she had higher connections and a respectable dowry. She set those thoughts aside as not worth the bother. She would not lament what she could not change. Besides, it seemed an excellent time to call on Miss Darcy. A visit to that young lady always cheered her up. She checked her appearance in the nearest looking-glass and hurried out, not even delaying her departure long enough to see her brother off.
Chapter Seven
Hartfield had not been graced with the presence of Mr. George Knightley for six days. On the seventh, said gentleman walked into the drawing room. Mr. Woodhouse was agitated about some household detail and Emma was trying to calm him while the servant looked on. "Papa, you know that Isabella will not mind that. She always brings little toys and diversions for the children. You worry yourself too much."
She turned when she heard footsteps. "M-Mr. Knightley!" she stammered but quickly recovered and plastered a smile on her face. "I am sure you must be looking forward to seeing John and Isabella as much as we are."
"Yes I am. But I do not want to detract from your pleasure, or yours, sir," he said, nodding to Mr. Woodhouse. "I will happily forego any claim on their presence at Donwell as long as I am welcome here and if I can be assured of some time with my brother in the next few days. I have some matters of business to discuss with him."
"Need you ask? Of course you are welcome here."
"You may invite John to Donwell Abbey as often as you like," Mr. Woodhouse chimed in, "as long as poor Isabella does not suffer for it. I do not know why he had to take her so far away. It cannot do her any good to be always in London. She was so happy in the country." He was not overly glad to see his old friend just now. He disliked sharing Isabella with anyone on the first day of her visit to Hartfield. It made him peevish.
"My dear sir," Knightley replied in a soothing voice, "I assure you that John has only done what he must: that is, settled his wife where he can best provide for her. If he had done any less he would have had me to answer to, as well as yourself and Emma. In fact, I am sure Emma would never forgive me if I allowed my brother to injure her sister in any way," he said with a glance at her, "and I cannot bear to have her angry with me."
He wants to be reconciled, thought Emma. I was not sure he would want to speak to me at all after our last meeting. I certainly shall not reject the proffered olive branch. "And I can never bear to stay angry with you for very long," she said as she held out her hand to him.
He kissed it gratefully. When he raised his head, he leaned in towards her ear and whispered, "I would speak with you."
She nodded and began inquiring about their mutual acquaintance. After they had settled themselves a little distance from Emma's father and achieved a modicum of privacy, Knightley asked her, "Where is your friend Miss Smith today? Is she still a guest of Hartfield?"
"Yes. She will stay with us through Christmas, perhaps longer. She is spending the day with the Martins. I will send the carriage for her once Isabella arrives." The servants had been coming in and out of the room for the last hour to consult with Mr. Woodhouse or Miss Woodhouse about preparation for their guests. One was speaking with Mr. Woodhouse just now. Emma watched the interchange for a moment. Deciding that her presence was not required, she turned back to her companion and smiled.
Only when he saw that his host was sufficiently distracted did Knightley venture to broach a particular subject.
"I understand that congratulations are in order," he said in a quieter voice.
"True. Harriet has accepted Mr. Martin's offer of marriage. She is very happy, I believe."
"As is Robert Martin. I have never seen him smile as broadly as he has these few days past." There was something about Mr. Martin's satisfaction and joy that had made Knightley a tiny bit envious.
"Then I am happy for him as well."
"That is generous of you."
"You know very well it is not." She turned away. "But let us not go over old ground."
Knightley was only too happy to assent. "I will say this: I spoke at length with Miss Smith last week, while we all waited here for you to return from your walk. My former opinion of her did not do her justice. I found her to be very pleasant company - an unpretending, artless girl. She has some first-rate qualities that any gentleman of sense and taste would find appealing."
Emma was gratified to hear it, especially as the mystery of Harriet's parentage had been revealed. She had been fooling herself. Miss Smith's father turned out to be no more than a tradesman. He had provided her with a generous settlement, and in higher circles than Harriet frequented, that alone would have been insufficient to compensate for the stain of illegitimacy. She was sure Mr. Knightley had been informed, considering his friendship with Mr. Martin, and that made his compliment to Harriet all the more precious.
Knightley continued haltingly. "My words after - that is, the following day, when you were drawing-"
"No. Please, Mr. Knightley. That...discussion was certainly not one of our best. At least we were both right as far as good intentions went. We only wanted to protect our friends. Let us say no more about it."
"I must mention it, Emma. I am sorry for what I said then. It was wrong of me. I took out my frustrations on you and slighted you, slighted Miss Smith. I even scolded you as if you were a naughty child." He smiled a half smile. "Well, I suppose you were a little naughty, but that is no excuse." He looked down and took her hand. "Sometimes I forget that much has changed since I was a boy of sixteen and you were but a baby in my arms."
She smiled at the image, feeling warm at the thought of him holding her. "Then we are friends again?" He was looking slightly odd. Perhaps he had not heard her.
Knightley absently caressed her hand before answering. "Friends? Yes, of course." He relaxed his hold so that their hands rested together on the chair, fingers not quite touching.
Some minutes passed and neither stirred much. Mr. Woodhouse was having a protracted consultation with his housekeeper. Snatches of the conversation reached the other two. Knightley was lost in thought until Emma's voice brought him out of his reverie.
"Why do you look at me that way?" She had glanced up several times to find him staring intently at her. "Is anything else troubling you? Have I done some other naughty thing to offend you?"
"Offend me? No indeed."
"Then why do you stare?"
He had not realized he was staring at her. Yet there was nothing surprising in that; whenever they were in company together, there was hardly anyone or anything else that could hold his attention the way she could. He thought of something he told Mrs. Weston once. 'I love to look at her,' he had said then.
"I love to look at you," he repeated now. It was as simple as that, was it not? The words were spoken before he knew what he was about. Yet they did not seem strange or wrong when he said them.
Emma leaned back in surprise. She knew he would never flatter her. He must be telling the truth, as he saw it. But why had he told her? What could it mean? She lowered her eyes first.
Neither was willing to comment on the subject. They conversed in a dilatory manner about many things. Yet one of their favourite topics to be canvassed just before a visit from his brother and her sister was not even mentioned - that of their joint nephew Henry being in a fair way to inherit Donwell Abbey from his bachelor uncle and to be hopelessly spoiled by the continual presents he was sure to receive from his maiden aunt.
After all, it was by no means a settled thing.
A week had passed since Lady Catherine's nephews had departed Kent. Now Elizabeth, along with Maria Lucas, had left Charlotte to her husband and her poultry and arrived at her uncle Gardiner's home in time for supper. Jane thought her sister seemed a little preoccupied and wondered what could be the cause. Elizabeth became less talkative as the meal progressed, though she looked at her sister frequently as if she wished to speak to her, which only worried Jane more.
That evening after Maria had retired a little early to unpack and inspect her gowns according to Lady Catherine's detailed instructions, Jane led Elizabeth to the room she occupied whenever she stayed in Gracechurch Street, closed the door and gestured for her sister to sit. "Now, Lizzy, what is it you could not tell me in front of Aunt and Uncle and Maria? What has happened?"
"Mr. Darcy proposed marriage to me." Elizabeth had not known where to start. That seemed as good a place as any.
Jane was astonished. "That was wholly unexpected. I had no idea he was in love with you." She smiled at her sister, still not quite taking it all in. Poor Mr. Darcy, she thought. What a misfortune to love someone who dislikes you so strongly. I hope she was gentle in her refusal. She could not discern anything from her sister's expression, or rather anything other than embarrassment. When Elizabeth did not elaborate, another possibility occurred to her. "Lizzy, are you telling me that you are engaged to Mr. Darcy?" She felt the tiniest bit jealous at the thought of her sister's accepting an offer of marriage when she had entertained hopes for one from Mr. Bingley and had been severely disappointed.
"No. I refused him." Elizabeth went on to describe the proposal and her response to it, leaving out everything pertaining to Mr. Bingley. She then told her about the letter and its effect on her.
After exclaiming over the shock of it and discussing Wickham's character, Miss Darcy's near miss and Mr. Darcy's disappointment, they sat in silence. While Elizabeth considered whether to reveal anything of her last meeting with Darcy, Jane inquired in a steady voice that belied her trepidation, "What did he have to say of Mr. Bingley?"
Elizabeth looked painfully conscious and averted her eyes.
"It is clear from the look on your face that Mr. Darcy did say something about him. Will you not tell me?"
"Jane, don't ask it of me, please." Elizabeth had hoped to avoid the subject entirely.
Jane sat on the bed next to her sister and clasped her hand. "Lizzy, I could tolerate such treatment from anyone but you. My dearest sister, you are also my closest friend. I will not have you believe me so fragile that I cannot bear to know the truth!" She looked at Elizabeth seriously. "If Mr. Darcy thought so meanly of our family and struggled to suppress his own feelings for you, it is unlikely he would have supported a match between me and his friend. And Mr. Bingley has often mentioned how much he respects Mr. Darcy and relies on him for advice."
Elizabeth looked up sharply at her sister and sighed. She did not want to tell her how sincerely she had been valued by Mr. Bingley before his sisters and friend had interfered.
"Lizzy! Speak to me," Jane implored her. "If you do not, I will assume I am correct." She tried another tactic. "I know you, Lizzy. If you challenged him on Wickham's behalf, you cannot convince me that you kept silent on this subject. It has been your steadfast belief that Mr. Darcy, along with Caroline and Louisa, persuaded Mr. Bingley to remain in town against his inclination."
Elizabeth could do naught but relent. Squeezing her sister's hand, she told her what she knew. "It is true, Jane. Darcy did not support the match. He told Mr. Bingley as much when he followed him to London. In addition to his poor opinion of our family - excepting you and myself, I should add, for he had nothing but good to say of you personally - he had not observed that you returned Mr. Bingley's regard. I believe he thought Mama would press you to accept him whether you cared for him or not." She tried to hold back her tears. "Jane, he knew you were here, in town. Darcy knew, and he refused to tell Mr. Bingley."
Jane frowned at this revelation as she understood the implications. Her sister was saying that Mr. Bingley had cared for her, that he was persuaded to give her up, that he was entirely ignorant of her being in town all these months. Caroline's words had been as false as her friendship; her brother had never been attached to Miss Darcy at all. She was shocked and angry but remained silent, waiting for her sister to continue. When Elizabeth did not, Jane composed herself and tried to assimilate this new information.
"Perhaps Miss Bingley asked Mr. Darcy not to tell her brother. Perhaps he, too, wished Bingley to marry Miss Darcy. He is allowed his opinion. Unlike Caroline, he was under no obligation to inform his friend of my arrival in town." Jane silently fumed at the depth of Caroline's deception, her expression reflecting her thoughts.
"But all that has changed now," Elizabeth hurriedly added. She did not want Jane to despair or, worse, to become resentful. "I did not want to say anything to you, to upset you. I even hoped that you would have heard something by now, that perhaps he would have called here, but when neither you nor my aunt mentioned his name I was unwilling to bring up the subject myself. Darcy has spoken to him, or he will soon. He was very anxious to hear that you would forgive Mr. Bingley his neglect. Had you seen him with your own eyes, Jane, you would know how sorry he is for what he has done! I assured him you would forgive his friend, as you have never been one to harbour ill will. Now I ask you to forgive me if I was presumptuous in doing as much."
Jane stood up and paced the room. She was elated and her stomach was in knots at the prospect of seeing Charles again. While she knew she would forgive him, perhaps already had forgiven him as well as his interfering friend, she was not comfortable knowing that her personal affairs had been unreservedly discussed by her sister and Mr. Darcy. "But if I had said more, if I had shown more of my feelings in November, none of this would have been necessary." She held a hand to her forehead. "Why did Bingley doubt my regard for him? I never suspected such a thing."
"Oh Jane, what could you have done, how could you have behaved? Would you flirt as Kitty and Lydia do with all the officers, or as Miss Bingley does with Darcy? You are the only one blameless in all this! You did what was right and proper."
"It was not enough!" she said with uncommon vehemence. "Bingley needed to understand my feelings and either he did not, or he allowed himself to be persuaded that he was in error." She sighed in frustration. "Yet I have done much the same thing myself and I would not let you convince me that he truly cared for me. He refused to believe his friend mistaken, and I refused to believe his sister deceitful. What a mess we have made for ourselves." Jane covered her face with her hands and willed herself not to cry.
Elizabeth was amazed at the words coming from her sister's mouth. "What will you do now, Jane?"
"If you are worried that I will not forgive him, there is no need. I have done it already. And you may tell your Darcy that he is forgiven as well." She arched her eyebrow at her sister.
"My Darcy?" she protested, blushing and recalling his hands and his voice and their almost-kiss.
"Yes, your Darcy, since his proposal and his letter, and mostly the fact that you have dropped the 'Mister' the last three times you mentioned his name." She stood still. "Did he write of all this in the letter as well? You spoke of it as if you discussed it face to face."
"He wrote of what happened once the whole party was in London, but he told me in person of his regret. He was most anxious that Bingley retain your good opinion."
"And what of your good opinion, Lizzy? Does Mr. Darcy have it now?" She received no answer but she did not need one. "Did he express regret for more than his advice to Bingley? You have told me you are not engaged, though clearly things have improved between you." Jane displayed a rare impertinent smile at her sister's continued silence. "Perhaps I shall tell Darcy the next time I see him that he has accomplished the impossible - the mere mention of his name has rendered Lizzy Bennet speechless."
Elizabeth opened her mouth wide in protest, then laughed and rose to embrace her sister. The two soon parted company for a time, instinctively giving each other a little privacy to dwell on the nature of her own feelings concerning one of two particular gentlemen from the north of England.
Harriet was in ecstasy. She was spending the day with her betrothed and his family, soon to be hers as well! And the evening was sure to be almost as delightful. Miss Woodhouse's elder sister was coming with her family to Hartfield. The house would be filled with the sounds of children's laughter and lively conversation. As she imagined how her own little ones would look, scampering about Abbey Mill Farm, she thought back to how she had arrived at her present happiness.
The nightmare with the strange letter that would not ignite caused her to know her heart, and the following day it gave her an idea for seeking reconciliation with Robert. That morning at Hartfield was horrible. She ate nothing at breakfast and barely spoke. Miss Woodhouse finally escorted her to Randalls where Mrs. Weston tried, very kindly, to console her for a quarter of an hour before leaving her to think in peace. After an hour or so, she had a plan. She got up the courage to ask Mrs. Weston for some paper and a pen. Everything had gone wrong since she had written to Mr. Martin and she was convinced that only another attempt would make it right.
That afternoon, Miss Woodhouse came for her in the carriage. They discussed what was to be done and before long she found herself outside the Martins' home. The greeting she received was more than she deserved, she knew. Elizabeth embraced her and took her off to the back of the house to talk. They had been there only a few minutes when Robert walked in.
"Miss Smith!"
"Mr. Martin."
The bow and curtsey were awkwardly executed. Elizabeth tried to revive their conversation, but Harriet could think only of the letter she had brought with her. She asked her friend for a few moments alone with her brother. The request was gladly granted.
"Mr. Martin," she pressed on boldly when Elizabeth had left them, "I hope you will forgive me for asking to speak to you privately. There is something I need to put to rights." She looked at his face and saw the hurt and hope and affection there. That, and the fact that she had gone over the plan again and again in her mind, gave her the strength to continue. "You received a letter from me which never should have been sent. I have its replacement right here," she said, pulling the folded paper from her pocket. "Will you read it now?"
He nodded, dumbfounded.
Mr. Martin took the letter from her and Harriet nervously recited it in her head as she watched him read it:
Dear Mr. Martin,
I was very surprised to receive your letter. I had no idea you admired me enough to want to marry me. At first I did not know how to respond. I sought another's advice on a matter that I should have decided on my own, and I am very sorry for any pain that my actions have caused. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
In the last few days I have come to realise that I do return the sentiments you expressed so beautifully. Though it may be too late to tell you this, I want you to know that I thank you for your proposal and would be honoured to become your wife.
She knew immediately when he was done. They were both still for a few moments. She had been terrified that he would reject her and tell her to get out of his sight. Instead he stepped closer. "I must admit it is a vast improvement over the other one," he said, finally. "Is there more? Is that how it ends?" He wore a tentative smile. "Such a good letter deserves a proper ending."
She had left the letter unsigned. It had seemed unnecessary at the time. After all, she had planned to give it to him in person. Perhaps he meant something else. "That is as far as I got. What do you think it is lacking?" Another apology, perhaps?
He was very close then; she was practically in his arms. His voice wrapped around her like a blanket, soft and comforting. "I am sure that together we can agree upon something appropriate."
She was wondering what that would be when she felt his lips upon hers.
Several seconds later she sighed and said, to the surprise of both, "A very good ending. Much better than a mere signature."
How they had laughed at that moment! Harriet was completely satisfied. Less than two months and it would be accomplished. She could not wait to become his wife.
Chapter Eight
"I have it!"
"No! I am the eldest. I should carry it."
"We both can carry it."
"Fair enough."
The sounds were followed by the sight of Henry and John holding Emma's portfolio at an awkward angle, generating a few chuckles around the room.
"Oh, my! Careful, Henry! Careful, John! Does that belong to your aunt?" Isabella's anxiety increased. It was only their first evening at Hartfield, and already her sons were getting into difficulties.
"Let me have that, boys." The elder John stepped forward and lifted the burden from his two little ones. "Now, tell me what inspired you to bring this all the way in here. As I recall, your aunt keeps this carefully tucked away and I am sure she does not want you to spoil its contents."
Emma was silent. Knightley, still smiling at his nephews' unusual entrance, expected her to share his amusement. He noticed that she looked a little red-faced.
John was holding the portfolio, ready to open it, when his sons began their explanation.
"I was looking for some paper. I wanted to draw -"
"I wanted to see Aunt Emma's pictures..."
"...and I remembered where she put it the last time..."
"...her pictures are very pretty and..."
"...I found it right where I thought it was -"
"No, I found it! I saw it first!"
"Then it peeked out."
"It looks just like him!"
They stood staring expectantly at their father, who was now even more confused than when they had entered the room. "What looks just like whom?"
"Uncle George!" they squealed together.
"Aunt Woodhouse and Uncle Knightley," Isabella corrected, though she knew that neither Emma nor George had the least objection to their nephews' informality.
With great curiosity John glanced at Emma. Seeing that she did not disapprove, he leafed through the collection of drawings on his lap and soon found himself staring at a perfect likeness of his elder brother. He picked it up by the corners. "The boys did not exaggerate, Emma. You have captured George exactly." He turned to face her. "Though your portrait of Miss Smith is very like," nodding toward Harriet, who had joined them in time for supper, "and a great accomplishment, I believe this may be the best work I have ever seen from you." He handed the picture to his wife. "Do you not agree, my dear? Is not your sister quite talented?" To his sister-in-law he said, "May the boys have a little paper and something to draw with?"
Emma said not a word as the party exclaimed over the picture and lauded her abilities. She procured the requested items for her nephews, and soon they were stretched out on the floor busily working on their own masterpieces.
By the time Emma returned to her seat, Knightley was holding the portrait. He was surprised, to say the least; she had only begun the work when their argument had halted progress on it the previous week. He had not expected her to complete it from memory. Did she know him so well? Looking at the image brought back to his mind what he had been thinking at the time and how he had behaved. "I thank you for not giving me a portly middle and a bulbous, red nose. You must have been tempted to do so under the circumstances." He noted her small smile. "But really, Emma, I am amazed! How can you accomplish so much when the object is not even before you?"
Emma would not tell him how frequently he had been in her thoughts during the past week, or that she had long ago memorised every feature in his face. Such a revelation would go to his head and he would be unbearable company. She did the only thing she could think of - she changed the subject.
Mr. Bennet listened for the arrival of the carriage that would restore peace and good sense to Longbourn. He sorely missed Lizzy and Jane, and now he had more than a few questions he wanted to ask them.
His first surprise had been Mr. Bingley's return from town. Jane had mentioned nothing of the gentleman in her letters. No one had anticipated it, not even Mrs. Bennet or Mrs. Philips, who had rushed to Longbourn at the earliest word of his arrival to share the news with her sister. Hardly anything was seen of the man for the first three days. He kept himself occupied at Netherfield, having a great deal of business with his steward, according to Sir William Lucas, who had been the first to call on him and welcome him back to the neighbourhood.
When Mr. Bingley called at Longbourn on his fourth day in the country, Mr. Bennet was barely civil. The young man had publicly courted his daughter only to abandon her to the gossipmongers for her dashed hopes. Had he called months ago, as had been expected, his smiles and easy address would have pleased Mr. Bennet for his daughter's sake. As it was, the elder gentleman required substantial force of will to attend to his guest. His effort was rewarded, however. The young man had only just received news of Jane's being in town. He had been delayed by his sisters and finally agreed to stay for the winter, but the months had dragged on as compared with the pleasant days he had spent in Hertfordshire. He was determined to renew the lease on Netherfield. He wished they might always be on friendly terms, that he might trouble him for advice from time to time as he learned how to manage an estate of his own.
"I would like to talk more on this, Sir, in the coming weeks. I am to meet with my steward within the hour and I am sure you have business to attend to as well, so I will take my leave shortly. There is one matter, however, on which I would like to have your opinion before I depart."
Mr. Bennet was all curiosity. "Yes?"
"I understand that Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, along with Miss Lucas, are to return from London very soon. I plan to renew my acquaintance with them when I go to town in two days. Mr. Darcy has agreed to return with me to Netherfield to render his assistance until his presence is required at Pemberley in the summer. I propose, if it is agreeable to the ladies, that we escort your daughters and their friend to Hertfordshire and allow them the use of a private carriage. Darcy and I would accompany them on horseback, of course. Do these arrangements meet with your approval, Sir?"
"Mr. Darcy? Escort my daughters?" Mr. Bennet was taken aback at this stroke of civility, nay, particular attention to his eldest girls. "Pardon me, Mr. Bingley," he said, quickly recovering. "It is so completely unexpected. I was not aware that Mr. Darcy - I...I should hate to have him go out of his way on my family's account." He knew not what to say.
"I should tell you that Darcy is the one who suggested the idea to me and even volunteered his equipage for your daughters' use. I am sure he would consider it a privilege, no inconvenience at all."
Mr. Bennet stared wide-eyed at his companion for a second before regaining his composure. It would not do for Jane's prospective husband to think him addle-brained. He stood up. "Mr. Bingley, if Jane and Lizzy agree to your plan, you have my permission and my thanks. I am sure Sir William Lucas can have no objection."
"It will be my pleasure, Mr. Bennet." Bingley shook his host's hand with a grand smile on his face.
That had been approximately one week ago. The second surprise, that Mr. Darcy should take an active interest in his daughters' welfare, continued to confound him. That the man would condescend to call on a tradesman residing in Gracechurch Street was simply beyond belief. Yet he had called, more than once. Sweet, considerate Jane had written her assurances that their journey home was arranged to everyone's satisfaction and that the carriage need not meet them at the inn as originally planned.
Mr. Bennet drew the curtains so he would not be tempted to look out the window every five minutes. He could keep himself occupied by reviewing the accounts. Perhaps he should follow Bingley's example and confer with his steward; there were several matters he had been putting off. He ruefully considered that he might not be the best example to his newest neighbour of a responsible and diligent landowner.
The truth was, had he worked to improve his estate and saved something for his daughters' dowries, he might not be dependent upon the interest of men such as Mr. Bingley to secure their futures. The pang of remorse would pass, he knew, and more quickly than it should. His thoughts returned to Mr. Darcy. That gentleman seemed well informed when it came to his daughters' plans. Was he to rely on Darcy as well to provide for one of his children? He had the strongest suspicion that Lizzy held the answer to that question.
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