Mr. Knightley’s Diary

March

Monday 1 March

Whilst dining with Graham this evening, Mr. Longridge spoke of his continuing efforts to find a house in Highbury.

"I have seen so many houses, if I did not have my friends to help me, I would be thoroughly confused."

"You have been to Brookfield?" asked Mrs. Cole.

"Not yet, but I have it on my list, and I am going there tomorrow. I have high hopes of it. I have heard it is an excellent house."

"It is certainly very conveniently placed, being on the London road."

"I do not believe I shall be going to London very much, except to visit the shops and theatres from time to time. I like the countryside hereabouts, and I am having a new carriage made, the better to explore it. The springs are deplorable on the one I have at present."

"Not at all - most comfortable - Jane was only saying so this morning," said Miss Bates.

As she regaled Mrs. Cole with an account of Longridge’s carriage, I spoke to Miss Fairfax, trying to draw her out on the subject of the carriage, but after answering my questions with one word she relapsed into silence.

"I like my friends to be comfortable, and I like to be comfortable myself," said Mr. Longridge.

After talk on the comfort of carriages died away, Mrs. Goddard said that she had had a visit from the Miss Martins.

"They are the sisters of your tenant farmer, Mr. Robert Martin, I believe," said Graham.

"Yes, I know the family. Mr. Martin is an excellent tenant, and his family are very agreeable," I said.

"They were great friends with Harriet when they were all at school together, but they have not seen so much of each other recently," Mrs. Goddard said, determined to have her share of the conversation.

"It is a pity, for Harriet enjoyed her visit to them last summer immensely. But now, I hope, their intercourse is to resume."

"Oh?"

"They all seemed very friendly together. Miss Smith was surprised to see them. She has been so much with Miss Woodhouse and they, no doubt, have been busy at home, but she was soon chatting very pleasantly with them. I said to Miss Smith she must make sure she returned the call, and she said yes, she was looking forward to it. She was very happy at Abbey Mill Farm."

Mrs. Goddard looked at me as she said it, and then looked away. She has been in place of a mother to Miss Smith for many years, and I am sure she would like to see Miss Smith happily settled, as I would.

It remains to be seen if Emma has learnt her lesson and wishes it, too.

Tuesday 2 March

I went over to Hartfield to see Mr. Woodhouse on a matter of business and I was hoping to see Emma, but I learnt that she was out.

"She has taken Harriet to see some friends of hers, the Martins. She promised me she will not be long," said Mr. Woodhouse.

My spirits fell. I had hoped Emma would encourage her friend to return the visit, but I was unhappy that she had decided to go with her. I hoped it was an act of kindness on her part, to take Miss Smith in the carriage, but I feared it was because she did not want her friend to stay too long.

I scarcely listened to Mr. Woodhouse’s complaints about the weather, his infirmity, and the imagined infirmity of all his friends, so busy was I thinking of Emma, but when I heard the name Frank Churchill, I began to pay attention.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weston were here this morning, with some news about Mr. Weston’s son, Frank. He is to visit us," he said.

"I have been hearing of his visit these last six months, but it has never happened yet," I remarked.

"His time is not his own," said Mr. Woodhouse, shaking his head. "Mrs. Churchill is very ill, poor lady! If only she had Perry to attend her, she would soon see a marked improvement in her condition, but she has to rely on some Yorkshire doctor, who I dare say does not know his business."

"And when is Frank Churchill to visit?" I asked, feeling out of humour.

"On the morrow."

"On the morrow!"

I could scarcely believe it. After all the delays, to learn that Frank Churchill was to visit so soon!

"That is what Mr. Weston said," continued Mr. Woodhouse. "They are to see him by dinner-time as a certainty. He is at Oxford today, and he comes for a whole fortnight."

"A whole fortnight!" I cried.

I could think of nothing worse than a fortnight of Frank Churchill.

When I returned to the Abbey, I found my exasperation leaving me, and wondered why I had become so angry at the idea of his imminent arrival. I had never even met the young man, and to take him in such dislike was absurd. But when I called on Graham this evening and discovered that Frank Churchill had already arrived, my animosity was rekindled.

"Already arrived? But he is not due until tomorrow!" I said.

"He arrived early, as a surprise," said Graham, well-pleased.

"A charming thought," said Mrs. Cole, who had dined with Graham, along with her husband and the Otways.

"An unforgivable one," I said. "What, to arrive a day early, when nothing is ready, and to take his hosts by surprise. What if they had been out?"

"But they were not out," said Graham good-humouredly. "Mr. Weston is delighted with him, and Mrs. Weston, too."

I could say no more, but that did not stop me thinking it. Young men of that age are always careless of the feelings of others. They do not have the steady character that comes later in life. They make very bad sons and even worse husbands. It is a pity Frank Churchill could not have stayed at Enscombe.

Wednesday 3 March

Everywhere I go I hear of no one but Frank Churchill. I called on Miss Bates this morning, thinking I would find a respite, only to discover that he had called on her, and that she could talk of nothing else.

I could not think what he was doing at the Bateses so early in his stay. It was his father’s doing, I suppose. Knowing Miss Bates to be in difficult circumstances, he had made sure his son paid a visit at once, as a mark of respect, and I commended him for it. If it had been left to his son, the visit would probably never have been made.

"Such a handsome young man!" said Miss Bates. "With such an air! Mother was saying we have never seen such a fine young man - a credit to Mr. Weston - Mrs. Weston so pleased - stayed with us for three-quarters of an hour - sure I do not know what we have done to deserve such a distinction. We were all very pleased with him, were we not, Jane?"

Thus appealed to, Miss Fairfax said that he was a very pleasing young man, but her words were not heartfelt. As she is a woman of discernment and taste, if she has found something lacking in him, then something lacking there must be. I tried to encourage her to say more, but she would not be drawn.

"He called to pay his respects to Jane. He met her at Weymouth. You remember I told you that Jane went to Weymouth? That is where she caught her shocking cold. It was when she was nearly swept overboard, I am sure."

"No," Jane murmured, but her aunt would not be silenced.

"You wrote to us not long afterwards, Jane, my dear, and that was when you mentioned you were not feeling well. Mrs. Campbell had commented on it, you said. You told us you were in low spirits, and had been glad to leave Weymouth behind."

I found myself wondering again if Frank Churchill had offended her there. That would account for her low spirits, her relief at leaving Weymouth behind, and it would fit in with my belief of him. Finding her to be elegant and accomplished, he had perhaps mistaken her for a woman of fashion and behaved charmingly towards her, but had then ignored her when he had discovered that she was destined to become a governess. Perhaps he had even flirted with her, or made love to her, before learning his mistake. Seeing her in Highbury must have been a shock to him, and his feelings of guilt probably accounted for his early call.

"It is my belief that that is where she caught such a shocking cold. Mr. Perry is in agreement with me," said Miss Bates.

Miss Fairfax protested that she was well, and I did not add to her distress by saying that she did not look well, but even so, I resolved to send Miss Bates some chickens, in the hope they might tempt Miss Fairfax to eat. More than that I could not do, without arousing the suspicions that Cole had entertained of my being in love with her.

I begin to think such a sentiment impossible. She is graceful and charming, but there is a lack of warmth in her that I am finding it hard to ignore.

Thursday 4 March

I found the Westons at Hartfield this morning, talking about Frank. I did not want to speak of him, but I could not very well leave, so I took up a newspaper and studied it intently.

"I told you he would come!" said Mr. Weston. "Did I not say that he would be with us in the spring? I knew how it would be. As soon as Mrs. Churchill could spare him, he came straight away, and he is very glad he did. He told me so himself."

Weston turned to Emma.

"He admires you greatly," he said.

So! He had seen Emma. I gave a harrumph behind my newspaper. It was a remark which could not fail to please her - or to add to her vanity.

"He thinks you very beautiful and charming," said Mrs. Weston.

If anything was destined to make Emma even more conceited than usual, it was the arrival of Frank Churchill! What hope is there for her better nature to develop if she is constantly surrounded by flattery? I am sure the Westons mean Emma to marry him. That was where all these remarks about her beauty and her charming nature tended.

If Mr. Woodhouse could have understood the treachery being conducted under his very nose, he would have immediately sent for Perry!

Friday 5 March

I returned to Hartfield this morning, drawn there by a desire to find out what Emma thought of Frank Churchill. She could not speak freely in front of the Westons yesterday, but I hoped that today she would tell me the truth: that he was well enough, in a frivolous sort of way, but not the kind of man to appeal to a woman of sense.

"And what do you make of Frank Churchill?" I asked, as Emma sat down opposite me, adding: "I half expected to find him here."

"He has gone to London," she said.

"To London?" I asked in surprise. "There is nothing wrong, I hope? No accident that requires his presence?"

"No." She had the goodness to look a little ashamed. "He has gone to have his hair cut."

I was much gratified.

"Hum! Just the trifling, silly fellow I took him for," I said, retiring behind my newspaper.

"I hope he returns in time for the Coles" dinner party," said Mr. Woodhouse. "It would not do to slight the Coles. Emma is going for that very reason. It is good of her, for she cannot want to go out, I am sure."

"I thought you had made up your mind to refuse their invitation?" I said to her.

"I had," she said uncomfortably. "But they expressed themselves so well in their invitation that I changed my mind. I did not wish to disappoint them, and Mrs. Weston particularly wished me to go," she added, with the air of one making an excuse. "I felt it would be wrong of me to refuse."

I detected the reason for the change at once.

"And is Mr. Churchill to be there, or will he still be having his hair cut?" I asked.

I was surprised at how scathing my words sounded.

"Of course not! And yes, he will be going to the dinner party. At least," she said, colouring slightly,

"I suppose he will be going. I am sure I do not know. But as Mr. and Mrs. Weston are going, I suppose I must assume that Mr. Churchill will be going, too."

"I only hope that Emma will not come home cold," said Mr. Woodhouse. "I have made my excuses.

The Coles know that I am a sad invalid, and although they had ordered a screen for me specially so that I would not have to sit in any draughts, I told them I could not go. I have made Emma promise me that if she comes home cold, she will warm herself thoroughly, and that if she is hungry, she will take something to eat."

I watched Emma throughout this speech, and I saw how uncomfortable she was. If Churchill had not been going to the dinner party, then I am sure Emma would have remained at home.

Saturday 6 March

I was worried about Miss Fairfax walking to the Coles" house in the cold night air, and so I called on Miss Bates this morning and offered to take her and her niece in my carriage.

"Oh, Mr. Knightley, you are too kind," said Miss Bates. "Is he not, mother? Mr. Knightley has offered to take us up in his carriage. I am sure I do not know when I have been shown such kindness."

"It is nothing," I said. "I am going to the party myself, and I have to pass your door; it is no trouble."

That was not quite true, but nevertheless, Miss Bates accepted my excuse and the time of the carriage was arranged.

Monday 8 March

After a day’s work I was ready to enjoy the evening. I arranged for the carriage to be brought round in good time. I would not have taken it for myself, as I prefer to walk or ride, but I was glad to be able to show Miss Bates some attention, and to safeguard the health of her niece.

"Well, this is travelling in style, is it not, Jane?" asked Miss Bates as we drove to the Coles" house.

Miss Fairfax, thus appealed to, said it was, but she continued to be in low spirits. It is perhaps not to be expected that the Highbury air could do her any good in March, but when the weather improves, then I hope to see an improvement in her health.

We arrived. I helped the Bateses out but I did not immediately follow them inside, as Emma arrived just behind me.

As she stepped out of the carriage, I thought I had never seen her look better. Her gown could be glimpsed beneath her pelisse, and I could see that it was new. I noticed that her hair was done in a different style, and I was disappointed to think that it was all in compliment to Frank Churchill.

"This is coming as you should," she said in her nonsensical way, as she looked at my carriage appreciatively, "like a gentleman. I am quite glad to see you."

I shook my head and laughed, saying: "How lucky that we should arrive at the same moment; for, if we had first met in the drawing-room, I doubt whether you would have discerned me to be more of a gentleman than usual. You might not have distinguished how I came by my look or manner."

"Yes I should; I am sure I should," she said serenely.

"Nonsensical girl!"

I could not help my eyes following her as we went in, and I saw that the Coles had gone out of their way to please her. She was received with a cordial respect which could not but gratify her, and she was given all the consequence she could wish for. When the Westons arrived, their brightest smiles were for her, and Mr. Weston’s son went straight to her side.

I wanted to like him, but I could not. Insufferable puppy! To go to London for a haircut! And then to go straight away to Emma, and ignore the rest of the party!

I did not want to watch the two of them, but I found I could not help myself. He is of an age with her, he is handsome and charming, and what is more, the Westons wish the match. I have long suspected it, and now I am sure of it. They look upon her already as a daughter-in-law. But I cannot abide the thought of Emma being married to Frank Churchill!

To a good man, yes, one who knows her in all her moods, who can laugh at her follies and rejoice in her virtues; who will not allow her to give in to her worst instincts; one who knows her, and who, knowing her, will still love her, and love her as she should be loved.

And that man is not Frank Churchill.

I spent the rest of the evening in an unhappy state and paid little attention to the conversation over dinner. Elton and his interesting situation were talked over; Miss Fairfax’s new pianoforte was discussed; and Emma talked all the time to Frank Churchill.

What could he have to say to her that was so amusing? She seemed to value his every word. I heard some mention of Weymouth, but nothing that seemed to warrant such close attention.

I was glad when dinner came to an end. The ladies left us, and the talk turned to politics. Frank Churchill took no part in the discussion. As I watched him, I could not help thinking that there was something unsettled about him, something that did not ring true. He was very taken with Emma, and mentioned her often, but I thought his remarks were shallow and immature.

The talk moved on to parish business.

"I can have nothing of interest to add," he said, standing up, "and so I will go and join the ladies.

Perhaps I might be able to entertain them."

Weston looked pleased at this gallantry, and Cole remarked, when he had left the room: "An agreeable young man."

Hah! That was not my view of him, but I did not say so.

When we had finished with parish business, we moved through to the drawing-room, and I saw that he was sitting next to Emma. On her being spoken to by Mr. Cole, however, his eyes wandered to Miss

Fairfax. I hoped he might be switching his affections, but no such thing. As soon as Emma spoke to him, he was all attention again.

To turn my thoughts from this gloomy scene, I engaged Harriet in conversation, for she was sitting by herself. I asked her what she had been reading, and she told me she had been reading a romance. She looked nervously at Emma as she said so, and a further question elicited the information that she had been reading it at Mrs. Goddard’s and not at Hartfield. She talked about the book intelligently, however, and it was clear she had given it much thought.

I saw Emma glance at me several times, and look concerned. She supposed I was finding her little friend wanting. But Harriet is much improved, and there is a sweetness to her nature that will always recommend her to people of sense. She, at least, does not fly off to London for a haircut on a whim.

My attention was caught by a bustle round the pianoforte, and Emma was called upon to sing. I was just enjoying the song when Churchill, the coxcomb, joined her, unasked. Everyone complimented him on his voice, though I could not think it was anything out of the ordinary.

Miss Fairfax then played, and her music was, as always, superior. She played with a perfect mastery of the instrument, and sang with a sweetness of tone. But, somehow, I did not like to listen to her as much as I liked to listen to Emma.

I went to sit with Emma, and once the music was over, we fell into conversation.

"I often feel concerned that I dare not make our carriage more useful on such occasions," she said, commending me on bringing the Bateses. "It is not that I am without the wish; but you know how impossible my father would deem it that James should put-to for such a purpose," she said.

"It is quite out of the question," I said, but I was pleased with her kind thought. "You must often wish it, I am sure."

Her thoughts seemed to dwell on Miss Fairfax.

"This present from the Campbells - this pianoforte is very kindly given," she said.

It had been the talk of the evening, that Miss Fairfax had received a pianoforte. I agreed, but said they would have done better had they given her notice of it.

"Surprises are foolish things. The pleasure is not enhanced, and the inconvenience is often considerable," I said.

Miss Fairfax and Mr. Churchill were still singing, but Miss Fairfax’s voice was growing thick, and I had to urge Miss Bates to step in.

Emma did not seem to like my interference, but her displeasure was soon forgotten when singing gave way to dancing, and Frank Churchill claimed her hand.

I was obliged to sit and watch them, and to listen to Mr. Cole when he said had never seen anything finer, though I privately thought that Frank Churchill’s dancing was remarkably wooden. There was no grace to his movements, and twice he forgot the steps.

Tuesday 9 March

As I was passing Miss Bates’s house on my way to Kingston this morning, she hailed me from the window.

I asked after her niece, and cut short her effusive thanks for the use of my carriage by asking if she wanted anything from Kingston. She could not think of anything, but invited me in, and I was inclined to accept her offer as she said that Emma was there. I was just about to go inside when I learned that Frank Churchill was there as well, so I declined.

I had no wish to see the two of them together, nor indeed any desire to see Frank Churchill again.

Wednesday 10 March

I dined with the Coxes this evening. The Coles were there, as were the Bateses, Mrs. Goddard, the Otways, Graham and Mr. Longridge.

After dinner, there was some sensible discussion about ways to relieve the poor, but as soon as we rejoined the ladies in the drawing-room, the talk was all of a coming ball.

"It was Mr. Churchill’s idea," said Miss Cox. "He and Miss Woodhouse were so taken with the dancing at your house, Mrs. Cole, that they wanted to continue it, and so they have decided to hold a ball at the Crown. Mother and I just happened to pass Mr. Churchill when he was hurrying to see Miss

Bates, to ask her opinion on the size of the room."

"Ay, just the person to ask," said Mr. Longridge kindly.

"I do not know when I have been more gratified," said Miss Bates, taking up the tale. "Mother and I were just sitting down to a dish of tea when who should walk in but Mr. Frank Churchill! I was just thanking him for mending mother’s glasses - so kind! So obliging! For mother cannot see without them, and she could not wear them without the rivet, for you know it was quite impossible - what was I speaking of? Oh yes, the ball. Mr. Churchill asked me to go and give my opinion and he would not take no for an answer, and Jane was invited, too, of course, for I am sure no one knows more about elegant gatherings than Jane, through having been to so many with the Campbells. I went across to the Crown and told them the rooms were perfectly large enough, and no draughts to be feared, as long as the windows are kept closed. Mr. Churchill was so obliging as to secure Miss Woodhouse’s hand for the first two dances, so we will all be treated to some dancing of the most superior kind."

Miss Fairfax looked distressed, and I thought she must be ill indeed if the thought of a ball did not lift her spirits, for I cannot believe her distress was at Emma being singled out in this way. Miss Fairfax is too generous for that.

Miss Fairfax was the only person who was silent, however. Everyone else broke out into conversation. As they discussed the ball, I found myself wondering why Churchill should be asking Emma for the first two dances. It was not his place to do so, though everyone else seems pleased with the idea. I found myself wishing I had asked her first.

However, the ball will very likely come to nothing as he is to return to his aunt in a few days" time.

I find myself hoping that he will never come back.

Thursday 11 March

Emma was full of the ball, and my hope that it would not take place proved a vain one. When I visited Hartfield, Emma could talk of nothing else. Frank Churchill had appealed to his aunt, who had graciously declared she could manage without him, with the result that he was to stay for a week beyond his appointed time.

I tried to be generous, for Emma has little enough to entertain her, but my tongue would not do what I wished it to do.

"If the Westons think it worth while to be at all this trouble for a few hours of noisy entertainment, I have nothing to say against it, but they shall not choose pleasures for me," I said.

"But you will be there?" Emma asked me, with a trace of anxiety.

I almost asked her what it was to her, but I managed to restrain myself just in time.

"Oh! yes, I must be there," I said. "I could not refuse; and I will keep as much awake as I can; but I would rather be at the Abbey, I confess."

"Surely you would rather be at the Crown, instead of sitting at home with your accounts?" she asked.

"I cannot see why," I answered bad-temperedly.

"Because you will have an opportunity of dancing."

"I do not care to dance," I remarked.

"You will at least take pleasure in seeing it," she said.

"Pleasure in seeing dancing! Not I, indeed. I never look at it. I do not know who does. Fine dancing,

I believe, like virtue, must be its own reward. Those who are standing by are usually thinking of something very different."

I felt annoyed with myself for saying it, but I could not take any pleasure in seeing Emma dance with Mr. Churchill.

Emma was quite angry, and I am not surprised. I was being churlish. Moreover, I was implying that her belief that people enjoyed to see fine dancing sprang from the vanity of those who were dancing, and that is not the case. I know it as well as she. And yet I could not be gracious with the thought of Frank Churchill in my mind.

Why I am so opposed to him I do not know. He is young and foolish and has odd fancies, but there is no real harm in him. And yet I cannot like him, do what I may. If Emma had not taken such a fancy to him, then it might have been different, but to hear her constantly talking about him puts me out of temper. He is no different from other young men his age, and I cannot see why she finds him so interesting.

Saturday 13 March

I have been punished for my gracelessness, for I find that Emma’s happiness is to be lost. Frank Churchill has had a letter from his uncle saying that his aunt is unwell, and that he must go home. I am sure the letter had more to do with his aunt’s selfishness than any illness. She could not bear to think of her nephew enjoying himself, that was all.

And I, I am almost as bad, for I could not bear to think of it, either. It was a warning to me, indeed, not to let bad temper rule my life.

"I am sorry for you, Emma, truly sorry," I said, when I joined her and her father for supper. "You,

Emma, who have so few opportunities for dancing, you are really out of luck; you are very much out of luck!"

I could tell how disappointed she was.

"We should not have delayed," she said. "We could have held the ball with far fewer arrangements." Mr. Woodhouse, however, was glad it was not to go ahead. "I am sorry for your disappointment, Emma," he began, "but I cannot think it a bad thing. No, I cannot think it a bad thing at all. Mrs. Weston was all for saying there were no draughts, but an inn, my dear, must always have them, and you would probably have taken cold."

Even in her disappointment, Emma did not grow impatient with him.

"We inspected the inn most particularly, Papa, you know we did," she said. "Besides, I have not despaired of holding the ball. Mr. Churchill must be with us again soon, Papa, and then it will go ahead."

She spoke bravely, but I could tell by her tone she did not believe it.

I tried to cheer her by inviting her and her father to the Abbey tomorrow for dinner. Mr. Woodhouse goes out so little that Emma is often forced to spend her time at home, but he is familiar with the Abbey, and after a little persuasion, I hoped he might give his consent.

It seemed as though he would do so, but at the last moment he decided that the horses would not like it, and invited me to Hartfield instead.

I was happy to accept. I could not promise Emma a ball, but I could promise her a cheerful evening with her friends, and a chance to talk of her lost ball to her heart’s content.

Monday 15 March

I was hoping that, now Frank Churchill is not in front of her, Emma would quickly forget him, but it is not to be. She talked of nothing but him this morning, or so it seemed to me.

The Westons joined us at Hartfield, and they were only too glad to talk of him. They did everything they could to promote his virtues with Emma, and I grew more and more impatient with every word.

They have a right to be delighted with their son, but they do not have a right to expect everyone else to be delighted with him as well.

Tuesday 16 March

I do not want to see Emma marry Frank Churchill, and so I said to Routledge this evening when, having travelled to London this morning to deal with a matter of business, I dined with him at the club.

"Churchill is not the man for Emma," I said. "He would encourage her rasher ideas, and lead her into temptation. He would be always jaunting off to London to have his hair cut or some other freak, and she would not like it. What is amusing in an acquaintance, and allowable in a friend, is less comfortable in a husband."

"Nevertheless, it sounds as though it would be a good match," he remarked.

"It would take her away from Hartfield and all her friends," I returned. "Churchill would carry her off to Enscombe in Yorkshire, and separate her from her father and sister as effectively as if he took her off to France. She would not be comfortable there, away from everyone and everything she knows. At the Abbey, she is only sixteen miles from her sister, and close to her father..."

"At the Abbey?" he asked.

"I mean, of course, that at Highbury she is only sixteen miles from her sister, and close to her father."

"But you said the Abbey," he pointed out. "Your mistake was revealing. You never seem to talk of anyone but Emma. You told me yourself that you have never met anyone you like better. It is as plain as a pikestaff. I have thought so ever since our last meeting. You should marry her, Knightley."

"Marry Emma? Nonsense! I have known her all my life."

"A very good basis for marriage. Think of your brother. He has known Isabella all his life, and I have yet to see a happier couple."

"No, it would not do. I am too old for her," I protested.

"Nonsense. You are in your prime."

"She is too young for me," I said, shaking my head.

"She is twenty-one. You"re a clever man, George," he said, "but sometimes you cannot see what is under your nose. Emma is the perfect wife for you, and you are the perfect husband for her. I have known it for many months. If you do not ask her yourself, then you cannot complain if someone else does."

"Good. I would like to see her married," I said. "Just not to Frank Churchill."

"Jealous?"

"Of course not! Why should I be jealous of a frippery fellow like Frank Churchill?"

He laughed at me, but then he grew serious.

"If she marries, your life would change," he said. "There would be no more evenings spent at Hartfield. Her marriage would take her away."

"She would never move far from her father. She would find a man from Surrey."

"And would you be able to sit with her every evening, if she did?" he asked.

"A man from Highbury then!" I said impatiently.

"Who? You have already discounted Elton, and quite right, too. She is too good for Elton. But who else is there? She will marry no one related to Highbury - unless she marries Weston’s son. He is the right age, and he is a good-looking man, by all accounts."

"She can do better than Frank Churchill! A man who does not know his duty, who writes flowery letters that deliver nothing but promise everything, a weakling who cannot do right when it is under his nose. Such a man will not do for Emma."

"She might not feel as you do. Women are strange creatures. They like a handsome face, and she must have someone, after all. Besides, on reflection, I think you are right. You are too old for Emma."

"I am not yet in my dotage!" I returned.

"Have it your own way!" he said. "You are too old for her, and not too old!"

"Perhaps, before you find a mate for me, you should find one for yourself," I said.

"I might have done."

I was immediately curious, and encouraged him to tell me about Miss Turner, a young lady he met at a soirée six weeks ago. He confided in me that he meant to marry her, if she would have him.

I retired to Brunswick Square at last. After spending an hour with John and Isabella, I retired to bed.

As I went upstairs, I thought again of what Routledge had said. Marry Emma? Ridiculous!

Thursday 18 March

I thought of Routledge’s words again this morning. Marry Emma? Impossible! I am not in love with her, and my dislike of Frank Churchill has nothing to do with jealousy. It is just that I do not think it would be good for her to marry him. Now he is no longer in Highbury, I am sure Emma will think no more about him.

Monday 22 March

Work on the path is at last finished, and I examined it to make sure the work was well done, then went over the costs with William Larkins. We managed to spend more than we had anticipated, but it was well worth doing, and I am looking forward to getting John’s approval of it when he visits us.

Tuesday 23 March

Elton has named his wedding-day at last, and will soon be back among us. I heard it first at the whist club, where it produced a variety of reactions.

"Happy man," said Longridge, blowing his nose. "It is twenty-five years to the day that my dear wife and I were married. It was a beautiful wedding. Everyone said she was the prettiest bride they had ever seen. She was a wonderful woman, always cheerful, and always with some news to bring me. She took a great interest in life, Mr. Knightley, and was a source of much solace to me." He shook his head sadly. "The house is too quiet without her."

Cole was interested in the event in a more practical manner. He told me that Mrs. Cole had offered to find Elton a parlour maid, as Elton would no doubt require more servants, now that he was losing his bachelor status.

Weston said he hoped that Elton would be as happy as he is, but begged leave to doubt it, and then said that he would like to see his son find a good woman and marry, too.

After everyone had ventured his or her opinion on the subject, we settled down to whist. Weston had all the luck tonight, and declared himself blessed, whereupon Longridge offered that his wife had been a keen cribbage player, and had beaten him on many occasions. Cole hoped that Elton would still visit the whist club once he was married, and we parted in perfect amity.

Wednesday 24 March

I called on Miss Bates as I was passing this morning. I found Miss Fairfax trimming a bonnet for her aunt.

"So good, I am sure it is better than anything Ford’s has to offer, or indeed anything from London, Jane has always been so clever - yes, I thank you, well, though growing a little deaf, but Perry says she is remarkable for her age - I was going to trim it myself, some ribbon from Ford’s, but Jane had some in her workbasket, just the right shade…."

I was glad to find her in good spirits, and Mrs. Bates in health. Miss Fairfax still looked pale and ill. I hope that the better weather might bring an improvement. We had sunshine today, and if it continues, perhaps Miss Fairfax will regain her spirits.

Sunday 28 March

We had our first glimpse of Mrs. Elton at church today, and I"ll wager that not one woman in the congregation paid attention to the sermon, they all spent their time looking at the newcomer instead.

Very little of Mrs. Elton could be seen, save the back of her bonnet. It did not look as well as Miss

Bates’s bonnet to me, and Emma was amused when I said so.

"It has come from London, depend upon it," she said.

"It seems as though it could just as well have come from Bath to me," I said.

"As you are so much older and wiser than I am, I must of course defer to your judgement."

"Not so very much older," I said.

"And not so very much wiser," she said saucily.

I smiled, but would not give her the satisfaction of laughing.

"I may be allowed to be a little wiser, I suppose," I said.

"You may. But not where bonnets are concerned."

She teases me and bedevils me, she exasperates and infuriates me, but what would I do without Emma?

Tuesday 30 March

It is two weeks now since Frank Churchill left, and I have fallen back into my routine of regular visits to Hartfield.

"And what do you think of Mrs. Elton?" I asked Emma. "Or have you not yet had time to visit her?"

"Yes, I called on her yesterday," she said.

I was surprised that she had paid Mrs. Elton the compliment of an early visit, but I was also relieved. I am not perfectly sure of what happened between Elton and Emma, but I know her thoughts were not easy on that score, and yet she still performed her duty.

"And did you see her?"

"Yes, I did."

"Then you had better luck than I did. When I called, she and her husband were out. Well?" I asked, as no comment was forthcoming.

"She was very elegantly dressed," said Emma.

"In a London bonnet?" I asked her.

"In a London gown."

"And have you nothing more to say?" I asked in surprise.

"One visit is hardly enough to judge of someone’s character," said Emma, "but she seemed to be very pleasing."

She would say no more, but perhaps she might be ready to commit herself when Mrs. Elton has returned the call.

I did not meet the lady myself until later in the day, when I came across her at the Westons. I had called to speak to Weston about some hay, but as soon as the Eltons entered the room, everything of that kind was naturally postponed.

I had not been in company with Mrs. Elton for more than five minutes when I realized that she was not destined to become a regular guest at the Abbey. Between telling me how fine her brother-in-law’s house is; calling Elton by turns her caro sposo and Mr. E; informing me of her many resources - which, however, she seems determined to ignore now that she is a married woman - and saying that Emma was already a favourite with her; she managed to disgust me in as many ways as she spent minutes talking. How Elton could bear it I do not know, but he simpered and smiled as though he had brought home a jewel.

I was polite, however, and welcomed her to Highbury society.

"I would love to stay all day, but my caro sposo insists I return Miss Woodhouse’s visit," said she.

"I am looking forward to seeing Hartfield. Mr. E tells me it is very like Maple Grove. Did I mention Maple Grove? My brother-in-law, Mr. Suckling’s place?"

Mrs. Weston assured her she had, and Weston bowed her out of the room.

"A very elegantly dressed woman," said Mrs. Weston.

"Hah!"

She looked at me in surprise.

"That is exactly what Emma said!" I told her.

Mrs. Weston had the goodness to smile, and I knew our views of Mrs. Elton coincided.

Wednesday 31 March

I was eager to find out about Mrs. Elton’s visit to Hartfield, and I had an opportunity this evening when I dined with Emma and her father. Whilst Mr. Woodhouse fretted that he had not paid Mrs. Elton a visit - "A bride, you know" - Emma reassured him that his health would be his excuse.

I could get very little from her concerning Mrs. Elton, and she said no more than yesterday, but that in itself told me everything I needed to know.

"You do not like Mrs. Elton," I remarked. "So you have been subjected to her talk about her caro sposo and Mr. E as well, have you?"

"I have, though I think it is very unfair of you to ridicule her for demonstrating her knowledge of Italian - and the alphabet," she said to me saucily.

"I have no objection to her knowledge of either, but I have a lively dread of her displaying such knowledge in the most vulgar way possible. How Elton can stand it I do not know."

"He is in love. Allowances must be made," she said.

"Hah!"

She does not think that Elton is in love any more than I do.

"I am glad to see that your taste, which erred in singling out Harriet, and again in rejecting Miss Fairfax, and yet again in singling out that puppy Frank Churchill - yes, well - your taste, in this case, was not at fault," I told her. "Mrs. Elton is a vainglorious woman with a small mind who thinks she is bringing refinement to a quiet corner of the country, when she is bringing only change."

"At last, we think the same on something!" said Emma. "No, pray do not spoil it," she said, when I opened my mouth to speak again. "Let me savour the moment."

Impossible girl! But out of the goodness of my heart, I let her have her own way.