Mr. Knightley’s Diary

October

Thursday 1 October

Bella entranced us all with her antics this afternoon. It is a good thing John has a second daughter in little Emma, or he would be in danger of spoiling Bella, so that in twenty years she would become exactly like her aunt: self-satisfied and complacent. It is Emma’s failing, but I do not despair of her growing out of it. She will be a fine person if she does, for she has a pleasing face and figure, and an affectionate disposition.

Friday 2 October

After the noise and grime of London it is good to be home. I was struck anew with the beauty of Donwell Abbey, with its low, sheltered situation, and its avenues of timber. I left my horse in the stables and walked through the meadow and down to the stream. The light was fading, but there was still enough to see by and the low sunlight sparkled on the water. I thought of happy years spent fishing there with John, and I watched it as it trickled along.

I turned and walked back to the house, and was warmed by the sight of it. The west front was catching the last rays of light, which gleamed on the spires and arched windows. They brought out the detail in the carvings of birds and fruit, and I thought of the craftsmen who had made them centuries ago. After John’s town house, I welcomed the Abbey’s ancient walls, and its familiar sprawl.

I noticed that some of the furniture was becoming shabby, but I could not bring myself to think of changing it. Besides, the furniture in the drawing-room and dining-room is well enough, and visitors do not penetrate further than those two rooms.

I ate my dinner in solitary splendour, and afterwards I walked to Hartfield to give Emma and her father all the London news.

I found them about to play backgammon, but they abandoned their game as I entered the room. Mr. Woodhouse fussed about my health, and the damp and the dirt, but I did not pay him much attention. Instead, I let my eyes wander to Emma.

I was struck at once by the difference in her. With her governess in the house, Emma had always seemed like a schoolgirl, but with Miss Taylor gone, she seemed more like a young woman. Miss Taylor’s absence will be good for her.

She was taking her new condition well. She could not but miss the company of Miss Taylor, but she was making an effort to be cheerful. Her face broke out in a smile when she saw me, and it elicited an answering smile from me.

She asked about her sister, and her nephews and nieces.

"Did Isabella like the baby’s cap?" she asked.

"Very much. She said it had come just in time, as Emma had outgrown the last one."

"And did the boys and Bella like their presents?"

"Yes, they did. John complained there was no present for him."

"I will have to make him a cap the next time you go to London!" Emma said.

"And how did the wedding go?" I asked.

"Ah! Poor Miss Taylor!" sighed Mr. Woodhouse, who, I fear, will be lamenting the marriage "til Doomsday. "She will miss us, I am sure."

"We all behaved charmingly," said Emma. "Everybody was punctual, everybody in their best looks: not a tear, and hardly a long face to be seen. We all felt that we were going to be only half a mile apart, and were sure of meeting every day. Besides, it had an added matter of joy to me, and a very considerable one - that I made the match myself."

So she is still claiming to have made the marriage, despite everything I can say to give her a more rational view!

"My dear, pray do not make any more matches, they are silly things, and break up one’s family circle grievously," said her father.

I could not help giving a wry smile at this novel view of marriage!

"Only one more, Papa; only for Mr. Elton. Poor Mr. Elton! You like Mr. Elton, Papa. I must look about for a wife for him."

I shook my head at her delusions.

"Depend upon it, a man of six-or seven-and-twenty can take care of himself," I told her.

Nevertheless, I find myself half-hoping she will attempt it. I cannot make her see sense, but when she fails in this new endeavour, it will teach her that her powers are nothing out of the ordinary, and that she had better leave other people to manage their own affairs!

Friday 9 October

I rose early, as my few days away from Donwell have left me with much to do. I began the day by calling on Robert Martin at Abbey Mill Farm. If all my tenant farmers were as industrious and well-organized as Robert Martin, I would be very happy, for never a more sensible or hardworking young man drew breath. He has managed splendidly since his father died, and the farm was looking prosperous as I arrived.

I called at the farmhouse and I found the whole family there. Robert invited me into the parlour, a clean and bright room which was a credit to his mother. She and his sisters were all cheerful and well-dressed, and Robert himself was at ease.

Mrs. Martin invited me to take tea with them, and I was pleased to accept. It was a happy scene. The Misses Martin had a school-friend with them, a young girl by the name of Miss Harriet Smith. She seemed very fond of them, and they of her. It was easy to see why. She was a beautiful girl, with a naïve yet cheerful disposition, and it was soon apparent that she was the sort of girl who was eager to please and be pleased. It was not to be wondered at, for being a parlour boarder at Mrs. Goddard’s school, and the natural daughter of no one knew who, she had no family of her own. She was not the only gainer, for it was clear her presence brought a great deal of pleasure to the Martins.

Whilst we waited for the tea, we talked of the farm, and the conversation turned to the cows.

"The little Welsh cow is very pretty," Miss Smith said, in the manner of one who had never lived on a farm.

I believe she took it for a pet.

The Martins, however, were not displeased by her naïvety, indeed they seemed to like it. Mrs. Martin, in her motherly way, said: "Then, as you are so fond of it, we will call it your cow."

This small piece of good nature was well received by all. Harriet expressed her thanks very prettily; the Misses Martin said what an excellent idea it was; and Robert Martin smiled with all the good nature of a man who liked seeing pleasure bestowed.

When we had taken tea, Robert and I retired to talk business. We talked of the harvest, which was brought in early, and we agreed that the apples were the best crop we had seen, for the weather has been just right and has given them ripeness and sweetness. Then he talked of his plans to extend the farm buildings next year, and he wanted my advice as to where a new barn should be built.

We discussed the matter and decided it would be best at the bottom of the long field. As I came away, I felt that Abbey Mill Farm was in good hands.

The afternoon was spent going over the accounts with William Larkins. Because of the splendid harvest, I was able to tell him that we will conduct extensive repairs to the estate over the winter. There will be much to see to, and I hope to make a start before the end of the month.

Saturday 10 October

As I took my early-morning ride, I decided I must do something about finding a pony for John’s children. The last time they were here they rode Blossom, but they will need a more lively mount this time.

I set out for Kingston after breakfast, and on my way I called on Miss Bates. I was concerned to make sure she had enough fuel, and I knew that the only way to find out was to call. If I asked her it would do no good. She would only say that she had plenty, thanks to the generosity of her friends, whether it was true or not. But I was pleased to see that there was a good fire when I went in, and that there was a bucket full of coal in the grate.

I asked her if there was anything she would like me to get in Kingston for her, but her reply was as usual: "I am much obliged to you, but I believe there is nothing we need."

I then asked after her niece, in the hope that Miss Fairfax would soon be visiting Highbury, so that Emma would have a young lady of her own age to talk to.

"Jane? Quite well, thank you," she replied. "We heard from her a few days ago. At Weymouth. I was only saying to mother how good the sea air would be for dear Jane, and Mrs. Otway said that she had been to Weymouth as a girl, very refined, just the sort of place one would expect the Campbells to visit - Mrs. Weston had a letter from Frank Churchill, complimenting her on her marriage, and it was sent from Weymouth - good enough for the Churchills - so kind of the Campbells to take Jane."

"Since she lives with them, they could hardly leave her behind," I remarked. "Do you expect a visit from Miss Fairfax? It is a long time since we have seen her in Highbury."

"I am very much obliged to you, but no, she does not speak of a visit. I was saying to Mrs. Goddard only yesterday - she had called to see how mother was getting on, and was telling us of Miss Smith - staying with the Martins, has been with them all summer, invited by the Miss Martins who were at school with her, you know, and will not be back at Mrs. Goddard’s until the end of the week.

You will have seen them all together at church, in the same pew, when our dear Mr. Elton gave us another wonderful sermon. It is a shame he does not marry, but who would be good enough for him in Highbury?" She paused for breath, then asked: "What were we talking of?"

"We were talking of Kingston, but if you have no commissions for me, then I must be on my way."

I managed to get away at last, and went on to Kingston. It is a pity that Jane Fairfax is not to pay us a visit. Emma could learn a good deal from her. Miss Bates’s niece is as refined and intelligent a young woman as it would be possible to meet, but Emma has never taken to her. I suspect Emma does not feel comfortable with someone whose accomplishments are superior, and who might put her in the shade, but if she could put such considerations aside, I think the friendship would be beneficial to both of them.

I rode into Kingston and examined a number of ponies, but none of them was quite right. The animal needs to be mild enough for young children, and yet at the same time it needs some spirit.

I said as much to Emma when I met her at Ford’s on my return.

"You should take up riding again," I continued, as we stood at the counter, she to buy ribbon, and I to buy gloves.

"I am an indifferent horsewoman," she remarked. "I am convinced that horses do not like me, and I am not very fond of them."

"Because you never ride. You would soon become more proficient if you went riding every day.

You would grow accustomed to horses, and they to you."

"Thank you, but I prefer to walk. It is much quicker to put on my cloak than it is to have a horse saddled. I can have walked to Randalls, paid my visit and be home again by the time that is done."

"You mean you do not think you look well on horseback," I said, knowing her real reason.

"You have found me out," she said. "I could never acquire a good seat. I look far more graceful on foot."

"Then I cannot convince you. Perhaps you will change your mind when your nephews and nieces can all ride, and you are left behind."

"Perhaps. But as Emma is only six months old, I am in no hurry."

I accompanied her back to Hartfield.

"You will join us for dinner tomorrow?" she asked, as we parted at the gate.

"Willingly," I said. "Pray give my compliments to your father."

I watched her go inside, and then I returned to the Abbey, where I found William Larkins and the account book waiting for me.

Monday 12 October

A frustrating evening. I was looking forward to taking dinner at Hartfield, but when I found Miss Smith there I found myself growing impatient. She was accompanying Mrs. Goddard, but she was so overawed by Miss Woodhouse of Hartfield that she hung on Emma’s every word.

Miss Smith is a sweet-natured girl, but she will not do Emma any good. Her conversation is silly and ignorant, and she cannot teach Emma anything. Worse still, she gives Emma such flattering attention that it can only add to Emma’s conceit.

I hope that, as Miss Smith is unlikely to dine at Hartfield very often, the friendship will not go any further.

Tuesday 13 October

I saw Emma in Highbury today, and Miss Smith was with her. I was disappointed that Emma had pursued the acquaintance, but I bade them both good-morning. They were on their way to see Mrs. Weston, and I left them to continue on their way. I spent the rest of the day going round the farms, and this evening I went to the Crown for my Tuesday whist club.

The usual gentlemen were there. Weston, Elton, Cole and I all sat down to play at one table. As Weston dealt the cards, we talked over parish matters, and we all agreed that not enough was being done for the poor. Elton promised to take measures to improve their lot, which we all agreed to support. With winter coming, it will be much easier for us to guard against hardship than it will be for us to alleviate it once it has already arrived.

Weston was the overall winner at cards. He is sure his luck will last until next week, but I have promised him I will have my revenge.

Wednesday 14 October

Emma was about to go out with Miss Smith when I walked over to Hartfield this morning. We exchanged compliments and then they set off for Randalls.

I hope their friendship is not going to become a settled thing, for as well as Miss Smith giving Emma an inflated idea of her own powers, Emma will give Miss Smith a distaste for the society she truly enjoys. The poor girl will be left between two worlds, being ill-suited for one, and dissatisfied with the other.

Thursday 15 October

I could not help thinking about Emma and Harriet Smith this morning, and I decided to consult Mrs. Weston. I was sure her good sense, coupled with her knowledge of Emma, would make her as uneasy as I was, but I found that the reverse was true.

"I have been seeing their intimacy with the greatest pleasure," she told me. "I can imagine your objection to Harriet Smith. She is not the superior young woman which Emma’s friend ought to be. But on the other hand, as Emma wants to see her better informed it will be an inducement to her to read more herself."

"Emma has been meaning to read more ever since she was twelve years old," I returned. "Where Miss Taylor failed to stimulate, I may safely affirm that Harriet Smith will do nothing."

I did not realize until I had said it that my remark seemed to reflect badly on Mrs. Weston’s abilities as a governess, and so I redeemed myself by telling her I thought she was much more suited to being a wife.

"Though I am afraid you are rather thrown away on Weston," I remarked, "and that with every disposition to bear, there will be nothing to be borne. We will not despair, however. Weston may grow cross from the wantonness of comfort, or his son may plague him."

"I hope not that," she returned. "It is not likely. I had a very well-written letter from him on my marriage."

She gave it to me and I read it, but although I said it was very fine, I privately thought it was a poor substitute for a visit. He should have paid her that courtesy on her marriage, and not all the obstacles in the world should have prevented him.

"He was very sorry not to be here," she said, "but Mrs. Churchill was not well, and insisted on his accompanying her to Weymouth. Her physician felt the sea air would be beneficial to her health."

I managed no more than a harrumph! Though the Churchills took him in when his mother died and made him their heir, Weston being ill-equipped to care for a two-year-old son, and though he had taken their name, I still felt that, if his character had been what it ought, he would have made a point of calling on his new stepmother on her marriage.

She seemed to read my thoughts, for she said: "We will not argue about him."

"No, indeed. I have not come to plague you about your stepson. Rather, I have come to plague you about Emma, and I have not half done. I cannot agree with you in thinking this friendship a good thing. Miss Smith knows nothing herself, and looks upon Emma as knowing everything. How can Emma imagine she has any thing to learn herself, while Harriet is presenting such a delightful inferiority? And as for Miss Smith, I will venture to say that she cannot gain by the acquaintance. Hartfield will only put her out of conceit with all the other places she belongs to."

"I either depend more upon Emma’s good sense than you do, or am more anxious for her present comfort; for I cannot lament the acquaintance," said Mrs. Weston. "Emma must have a friend of her own age to talk to."

I said no more, and our conversation turned to other matters, but I still feel an anxiety about Emma and I will be glad when the friendship has run its course.

Saturday 17 October

I visited Hartfield this morning, and had the good fortune to find Emma alone. Moreover, she was reading a book. Feeling somewhat heartened by this, I asked her how her plans to educate her little friend were getting along.

"I have drawn up a programme of reading," she said. "We mean to study all the great authors."

"This is most impressive," I said, as she handed me the list.

It was beautifully laid out, and was written in the most exquisite hand. A great deal of thought had gone into selecting the list, and a lot of care had gone into its presentation.

"I wanted Harriet to have a feel for the beauty of our language, and so I thought I would guide her through some of our greatest works," she said, pleased with my praise.

"And which of these have you started?"

"All of them."

"All of them?" I asked in surprise.

"Yes. We mean to finish them by Christmas."

"An ambitious plan," I said. "You will need to read a book every week. Do you not think it would be better to read half as many books and devote twice as much time to each?"

"We can always read them a second time, in a more leisurely manner, later on, but Harriet is eager to make up for the deficiencies of her education as soon as possible. I do not say that Mrs. Goddard has been lax," said Emma graciously. "Quite the opposite. She has given Harriet sound basics. But it is up to me to further her education, and make it equal that of a young lady."

I did not know whether to scold her for her pomposity or tease her for her conceit, so instead I sought to open her eyes to her friend’s capabilities.

"My dear Emma, Harriet has no interest in literature. She was happy at the Martins" farm, marking her height on the wall and claiming a pretty cow."

"Which is why I must take her in hand, for then she will add an appreciation of literature, music and art to her repertoire of interests."

It was useless to argue with this misguided notion, particularly as I am convinced that the programme of education will last no longer than any of her previous programmes. It will start in an excess of zeal, and end in the plans being laid aside in favour of a walk into Highbury.

I saw a way that that could be turned to my advantage.

"Have you visited Miss Bates lately?" I asked.

"Not lately," she said lightly, but she looked uncomfortable.

She knows that I think she should visit Miss Bates more often than she does.

"She always thinks it an honour when you call, and being situated as you are, in a position of comfort and ease, and with Miss Bates being situated as she is, in a position of dwindling income, you should not be remiss in your attentions," I reminded her.

"Very well, I will call on her this afternoon. I will take Harriet," she said, brightening. "We will be ready for a break from our studies by then."

It is as I thought. A visit to Miss Bates is far more welcome to her when it is an alternative to study!

Monday 19 October

I dined with my friend Graham this evening. We were a small party, just Graham, the Coles, Elton, and Graham’s widowed sister.

"My sister, Mrs. Lovage, has joined me from Bath," said Graham, as he introduced us.

I wondered if here could be the woman I was looking for. She impressed me at our first meeting with her beauty and her good manners, followed closely by her good sense. I asked her about Bath, and Elton joined in the conversation.

"Do you know Bath?" she asked him.

"I know it very well. I visited there with my sisters only recently," he said.

"Your sisters are not Mrs. Winchester and Miss Catherine Elton?" asked Mrs. Lovage.

"Yes, indeed they are."

"But this is famous!" cried Mrs. Lovage. "I know them well. We often take tea together."

There were the usual congratulations, and Mrs. Lovage spoke sensibly about their mutual acquaintances, whilst the Coles added their experiences of Bath to the conversation.

"You must also know the Framptons," said Mrs. Lovage. "Miss Frampton has newly become engaged to a Mr. Bradshaw."

"I am very pleased for her," said Elton. "I believe the other Misses Frampton will not be far behind their sister. They are beautiful girls, with twenty thousand pounds apiece."

From the way he spoke of them it was clear he was intimate with them, and if I do not miss my guess, he has thoughts of marrying one or other of them.

"Nothing lifts the spirits so much as a wedding," said Mrs. Lovage. She turned to me. "Do you not think so, Mr. Knightley?"

"They are generally thought agreeable."

"I hear you have had a wedding of your own here recently?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weston is newly married."

"Then I must pay her my respects tomorrow," she said.

After dinner, we talked of more serious matters and I found that Mrs. Lovage was able to hold an intelligent conversation on a variety of subjects. She expressed an interest in old buildings and we talked of the Abbey at some length. I was about to invite her to visit, when Elton broke into our conversation, mentioning more of his Bath acquaintance, and the moment was lost.

I would like to see Emma become as well-informed as Mrs. Lovage, but as she does not mix with the Grahams, and would consider them quite beneath her, it is unlikely she will make Mrs. Lovage’s acquaintance. She will grow out of this false sense of superiority, I hope. It is all very well to preserve distinction of class within reason, particularly if inferiority of station is mixed with inferiority of mind, but where there is only a slight disparity it is nonsense, and I hope that one day Emma will see it.

Mrs. Lovage was very agreeable for the rest of the evening, but when I returned home I was disappointed to realize that I had no particular desire to see her again. But perhaps my feelings will change on further acquaintance.

Tuesday 20 October

We had a storm overnight, and some of the fences blew down. I toured the estate with William Larkins and gave instructions for repairs to be carried out.

This evening, I had my revenge at the whist club, and came home the overall winner. Elton would have done better if he had spent less time telling us of the heiresses he knew, and more time in thinking about his cards.

Wednesday 21 October

I went to Hartfield this morning, to see if the storm had done any damage there, and whether Mr. Woodhouse needed my help in organizing repairs. I was also curious to see Emma, and to discover whether she had tired of Miss Smith’s company. Unfortunately, I found that she was even closer to Miss Smith, and that Harriet, for so Emma calls her, was staying at Hartfield.

"Look, Papa, here is Mr. Knightley," said Emma as I entered the room.

"You have not walked over in all this wind?" he asked in alarm. "My dear Mr. Knightley, you should not be venturing out in this weather. Such a howling in the chimney-pots last night, was there not,

Emma? I thought they were going to come crashing down."

"But they did not, Papa," said Emma soothingly. "We were just saying how fortunate it was, that the storm did us no damage. How did you fare at the Abbey, Mr. Knightley?"

"Not so well. A number of fences have blown down, and they will have to be repaired."

"Emma, my dear, you and Harriet must not take a walk today, but must stay indoors. See, it is not safe to be outside. Mr. Knightley’s fences have blown down, and if you venture out, you and Harriet will surely be blown down, too."

"Very well, Papa, Harriet and I will go no further than Randalls."

"Even that is not safe," he said.

"I believe it is," said Emma. "Do you not think so, Mr. Knightley?"

Thus appealed to, I soothed her father’s fears and secured Emma her walk. It is not easy for her, being tied to such an old man, but she bears it cheerfully.

"We must not be remiss in our attentions, Papa," Emma went on, to convince him of the necessity of the walk. "Mrs. Weston will like to know we are all safe after the storm."

"Ah, poor Miss Taylor. If she had only stayed here, she would have been safe. We have escaped, though the wind howled in the chimneys, but I fear that Randalls is not so well-built. I hope their roof may not have blown off."

I told him that I had passed Randalls on my way, and had seen no such calamity.

"Poor Miss Taylor, she would have been much better here with us," sighed Mr. Woodhouse again. Emma took out a drawing she had been doing, by way of turning her father’s thoughts away from the numerous disasters that might have befallen his friends.

"A very pretty drawing," said Mr. Woodhouse. "Emma draws very well. Emma does everything very well."

"Papa," said Emma reprovingly, but pleased none the less.

What hope is there for her, with such flattery around her?

I pointed out its flaws and, though she had the goodness to admit that the tree was too tall in relation to the shrubbery, she showed no inclination to put it right.

"Harriet, show Mr. Knightley your drawing," she said.

Harriet shyly held out her drawing. It was a typical schoolgirl effort, but I found something to praise and some suggestions to make.

I asked Harriet what books she had been reading, and it was as I suspected. Many had been started but none finished. However, overall I found her improved. She had lost her schoolgirl giggle and, if her understanding was not good, at least it was better than formerly. There was nothing of vulgarity in her, and Emma had sought to build on her better qualities with some success.

I believe Mrs. Weston might have been right when she said the friendship would provide Emma with much needed company. Perhaps it will do no harm after all.

"We have had a letter from Isabella," said Emma.

She went over to the table, as Harriet listened patiently to Mr. Woodhouse’s account of his fears for poor Mrs. Weston in the storm.

I followed her, and took the letter she offered me. It was from Southend. Isabella praised the weather, the neighbourhood and the sea.

"So Isabella went bathing after all," I said.

"Yes, though before she went, she protested she would not venture into the water." She glanced at her father. "I have not mentioned it to Papa. He would only worry. He does not approve of the children getting their feet wet."

"If I remember, you were always getting your feet wet as a child," I said. "I recall you paddling in the stream at Donwell..."

"And receiving a fine scolding for it when Miss Taylor found me!"

"It was the mildest of reproofs, especially as you had escaped from your lessons and gone outside on the pretext of sketching the Abbey."

"It was not a pretext! I took my pencils and my sketchbook..."

"And abandoned them as soon as you were out of sight."

"Unfair!" she cried, adding saucily: "I abandoned them before I was out of sight."

"Incorrigible girl! If you had applied yourself more, you might now be a mistress of your art, instead of abandoning your portraits, half-finished, in a portfolio."

"They are not half-finished!" she declared, then she had the goodness to laugh, and to add: "Not all of them, anyway. I finished the portrait of John. It is my best work, I think, and deserves its place in the drawing-room. Mrs. Weston thought it a good likeness."

"Though Isabella did not."

She did not like my remark, and said: "Isabella is partial. No one could have captured John’s likeness in a way that would have suited her."

"And Mrs. Weston, too, is partial," I told her. "She would have thought it a good likeness however it had turned out."

"Perhaps I need more practice. I think I might draw you, Mr. Knightley," she said with an arch smile.

"I seem to recall you doing so..." I reminded her.

" - and abandoning the attempt," she admitted.

"I did not, say so."

"No, but you were about to. You seem to make no allowance for the fact that I was sixteen years old at the time."

"Quite old enough to finish it. But it is not too late. Perhaps you should take it out and finish it now," I said.

"I think not. You are the worst person in the world to sketch, for you are never still. You are worse than the children in that respect, for I am sure little George stays in one place for longer than his namesake."

"A convenient excuse," I told her.

"Not at all. If you will promise me a day when you will sit in a chair, I will promise you a finished portrait."

"I thought you had done with taking likenesses? I seem to remember you saying so, when you received a cool reception for your portrait of John," I teased her.

She smiled up at me. "I believe I have changed my mind."

It was a pity that, at that moment, Mr. Woodhouse called to us. I do not have enough opportunities to talk to Emma alone. Of all my acquaintance, she is the one whose company I most appreciate, despite her perversity and sauce!

Friday 23 October

I visited Miss Bates this morning, and found her well.

"Oh, Mr. Knightley, we"re honoured I am sure. Mother was just saying we have not seen Mr. Knightley since the storm, we hoped you were well - yes, thank you, Mother and I are both well, though Perry did not like the look of Mother the other day, however it was nothing, just a chill, which is not to be wondered at as the weather has turned cold. What was I talking about?"

"Have you had many visitors lately?" I asked her, wanting to see if my hint to Emma had gone home.

"Oh, yes, ever so many. Mrs. Cole came, she is so fond of Mother, and so kind and obliging, asking if there was anything she could do. And then Mrs. Goddard called. What do you think, she has had a goose from the Martins. Was that not kind of them? And Mrs. Goddard said it was the best goose she had ever eaten. She had it dressed and then Miss Nash, Miss Prince and Miss Richardson all supped with her, and then what do you think? She brought the legs for Mother and me. We are so fortunate in our friends."

She told me of Elton and Mrs. Cole; of Graham and Mrs. Lovage; in short, it seemed that everyone in Highbury had been to visit her. And then, at last, she mentioned Emma. I was pleased, and finally took my leave in good spirits.

I dined with the Otways, and found that Mrs. Lovage was there. We enjoyed a lively conversation after dinner, and then she sang. She has an agreeable voice, and I believe I may grow to like her very well in time.

Saturday 24 October

Estate business occupied me this morning, but I called at Hartfield this afternoon. I found Emma and Harriet just returning from a walk. It is as I suspected! They are no further on with their reading than last time I spoke to them. Studying has given way to walking to Randalls and talking to Mrs. Weston, or walking to Highbury and talking to Miss Bates. Emma defended their negligence by saying that she thought they ought to take their exercise whilst it is fine, for there will be many poor days over the winter when they will be glad to stay inside and read.

"You have an answer for everything," I told her.

"You should be pleased. You are always telling me you would like me to be better informed," she said, smiling up at me with that peculiar combination of innocence and mischief which has plagued me for years. "If I have an answer for everything, I have surely exceeded your expectations!"

I could not help laughing.

"Emma has always been very clever," said her father.

"That is undeniable, but cleverness must be put to good use, not bad," I remarked.

"And when, pray, do I ever put it to bad use?"

"I am sure Emma would never do such a thing," said her father anxiously. "She has never done anything bad. She has been a good daughter to me, a very good daughter, indeed I do not know a better one, unless it is Isabella." He shook his head. "Poor Isabella!"

"Mr. Knightley is teasing me, Papa," Emma said.

"I do not quite like that way he has, my dear," said her father, as Emma went over to him. "It is very rough to my ears."

"Come, now, you know Mr. Knightley is a good friend to us. How often have I heard you say that you do not know where you would be without Mr. Knightley to write your letters for you? And I am sure I do not know where I would be without him to read the paper to me in the evening."

"That is true, very true, for I am just a sad invalid and could not manage it, my dear. The print is so small it hurts my eyes, and I am sure I am very grateful to Mr. Knightley for reading to us."

I left Emma soothing him and spoke to Harriet, and by the time the tea was brought in he was content again.

Afterwards, I was able to write some business letters for him. I would have liked to stay to dinner, but my accounts needed looking into and I spent the evening with my books.

Monday 26 October

One of the trees in the wood was damaged by the storm and it is unsafe. I have given instructions for it to be felled. The timber is not of a good enough quality to be sold, and so I have ordered it cut up for firewood. I have given Wiliam Larkins instructions to have some of the logs sent to Miss Bates, and to distribute the rest amongst the poor.

Friday 30 October

Emma continues to make much of her little friend. When I arrived at Hartfield this evening, I found Harriet still there, and Elton was in attendance. Emma brought Harriet forward and set her at her ease, encouraging her to speak to Elton, and to answer questions he had asked. It was kind of her, for it will increase Harriet’s confidence and give her more facility with conversation. Elton good-naturedly humoured Harriet, whilst Emma looked on benignly.

I am not sure whether she sees herself as Harriet’s fairy godmother, or as Lady Bountiful, but I am convinced that Harriet sees her as a mixture of the two.

Later, I played a game of backgammon with Emma whilst the others entertained Mr. Woodhouse, and then I walked part of the way home with Elton. He was full of Emma’s praises, saying how well she spoke, and how intelligent were her ideas.

Elton is another one of Emma’s friends who is easily pleased, to add to her growing collection! I only hope my presence will be enough to counteract the harmful effects of all this adulation.