Mr. Knightley’s Diary

April

Friday 2 April

I was glad to find that Miss Fairfax had extended her visit, and would not be returning to London so soon as was expected.

"We are so glad, Mr. Knightley," said Miss Bates. "We are to have her for a full three months. She still does not look well. No, Jane, my love, you do not, though you protest you are very well indeed. When you were altering my gloves for me - such wonderful gloves, Mr. Knightley, quite the warmest I have ever worn, and bought from Ford’s, but just a little big around the wrist, and Jane kindly offered to take them in for me, as she was mending Mother’s petticoat anyway, and who should walk in but Mr. Longridge. A very kind gentleman, Mother is quite besotted with him - yes, you are, Mother, you know you are, for he comes and sits here for an hour or two together, and we are always glad of company, Mr. Knightley. He has asked me to give him my opinion on another house, Whitestones, you will know it Mr. Knightley, the Dodds have been renting it out but their tenants have left and they have decided to sell it. It seems a fine house to me but it is perhaps a little large for a single gentlemen. And then there is another house I have promised to see next week, Southdean, a pretty house with a stream, you know. I have always liked that house. It is not so grand as Whitestones, but I often used to think, when I was a girl, if I could choose a house to live in, that would be it. I painted it once, though not as well as Jane, she sketched it when she was eleven years old, do you remember, Jane? I believe I still have the picture somewhere, though I cannot remember where. I remember Mother saying to me…."

She paused for breath, and evidently did not remember what she had been saying, which gave me an opportunity to ask Miss Fairfax: "Will you be joining the Campbells again when your stay in Highbury is finished?"

"Yes for a little while. But I would rather not think of that," she remarked.

I said no more, as I did not wish to distress her. I wish I could offer her a home at the Abbey, but it is impossible.

"Oh, Jane, I know what I forgot to say. I meant to mention it but Mr. Knightley’s visit put it out of my mind - so kind of you, Mr. Knightley! So obliging! - I sent a reply to Mrs. Elton for you, you were out when her message arrived. She asks you to tea. Such an elegant woman! Such refinement! I am sure I never saw a better woman in my life, and it is always good to have a bride in the neighbourhood, is it not, Mr. Knightley? Jane must want to be with younger people, and not always shut up with her grandmother and her aunt, though I am sure her grandmother is the best woman in the world..."

"And so is her aunt," said Miss Fairfax with an affectionate smile.

"Oh, Jane, my love, I am sure I do not know - well - have you finished your sewing?"

And so she went on, spreading goodwill with every word but saying very little. Despite Miss

Fairfax’s affectionate smile, I could tell that her aunt’s constant chatter wearied her.

I did not envy her. A choice of spending an hour with Mrs. Elton, or an hour with her relations, was not a happy one.

I only wish Emma would take more notice of her. An afternoon at Hartfield would be far more enjoyable for Miss Fairfax than an afternoon at the vicarage or at home.

Saturday 3 April

There has been a heartening piece of news, one to gladden everybody in Highbury, and one to make me forget my own problems for a while. It is as I suspected. Mrs. Weston is expecting a child! The Westons have known for some time, but have told no one. Now, however, they have broken their silence, knowing it could not be disguised for much longer.

Emma was smiling as I met her just outside Randalls. I was coming out of the gate as she, accompanied by Harriet, was going in.

"This is good news!" I said.

"Very good news," she agreed.

"You will have to make some more caps."

"I have started one already, and so has Harriet!"

"Very well done," I said.

Harriet blushed and murmured something I did not catch.

We parted, I to go on business, and Emma to go in to see her friend.

Monday 5 April

Today was like spring, warm and sunny. I rode round the estate with William Larkins and we made sure that everything was in order. The farms were flourishing, and it did my heart good to see them. There is nothing like being in England in the spring.

Weston felt the same. He was very expansive this evening, and was more than usually talkative when I joined him for dinner.

Emma was there, and looking well. We spoke of many things, including Miss Fairfax.

"I wonder that Jane Fairfax spends so much time with Mrs. Elton," said Emma.

"We cannot suppose that she has any great enjoyment at the vicarage, my dear Emma," said Mrs.

Weston, "but it is better than being always at home."

"Another thing must be taken into consideration, too," I said. "Mrs. Elton does not talk to Miss Fairfax as she speaks of her. And besides the operation of this, as a general principle, you may be sure that Miss Fairfax awes Mrs. Elton by her superiority both of mind and manner. Such a woman as Jane Fairfax probably never fell in Mrs. Elton’s way before - and no degree of vanity can prevent her acknowledging her own comparative littleness in action, if not in consciousness."

I tried to do full justice to Miss Fairfax’s virtues, because I knew I could never marry her.

"I know how highly you think of Jane Fairfax," said Emma anxiously. "And yet…" She stopped, as if she did not know how to continue, then went on: "And yet, perhaps, you may hardly be aware yourself how highly it is. The extent of your admiration may take you by surprise some day or other."

Although I had had a similar idea myself, I did not want her to know it, so I bent and fastened the button of my gaiter to prevent her seeing my confusion.

"Oh! are you there?" I asked. "But you are miserably behindhand. Mr. Cole gave me a hint of it six weeks ago. That will never be, however, I can assure you. Miss Fairfax, I dare say, would not have me if I were to ask her; and I am very sure I shall never ask her."

"You are not vain, Mr. Knightley. I will say that for you," Emma replied.

To my surprise, she was not angry that I would not fall in with her plans. She was relieved.

"So you have been settling that I should marry Jane Fairfax," I said curiously, wondering exactly what had been going through her mind.

"No indeed I have not. You have scolded me too much for matchmaking for me to presume to take such a liberty with you. Oh no, upon my word I have not the smallest wish for your marrying Jane Fairfax or Jane anybody. You would not come in and sit with us in this comfortable way, if you were married."

Ah. So that was it. She liked my company, and would miss it if it were gone. I thought of Routledge and his words to me in London. Marry Emma! I had said it was a ludicrous idea, but was it?

I had tried to take an interest in Miss Larch, and I had failed. I had tried to take an interest in Mrs. Lovage, and I had failed. And I had tried to take an interest in Jane Fairfax, and I had failed. But I had never failed to take an interest in Emma, and I did so without even trying.

Why had I not seen it before? I never thought of anyone but Emma. But then my spirits sank as I realized that Emma could think of no one but Frank Churchill.

I could fiddle with my gaiter no longer.

"Jane Fairfax is a very charming young woman - but not even Jane Fairfax is perfect," I said. "She has a fault. She has not the open temper which a man would wish for in a wife."

The open temper that Emma has.

"You soon silenced Mr. Cole, I suppose?" she said.

"Yes, very soon. He gave me a quiet hint; I told him he was mistaken; he asked my pardon and said no more. Cole does not want to be wiser or wittier than his neighbours," I said, with a wry smile. "Jane Fairfax has feeling," I said, to give her her due, for I did not want Emma and Mrs. Weston to think I was slighting her. "I do not accuse her of want of feeling. Her sensibilities, I suspect, are strong, and her temper excellent in its power of forbearance, patience, self-control." An image of Jane rose before me, and I could not help my real feelings from coming through. "But it wants openness. She is reserved, more reserved, I think, than she used to be: And I love an open temper. No; "til Cole alluded to my supposed attachment, it had never entered my head," I added, for I did not want to harm Jane’s reputation by letting anyone know I had thought of marrying her, but had rejected the idea. "I saw Jane Fairfax and conversed with her, with admiration and pleasure always; but with no thought beyond."

Emma and Mrs. Weston exchanged glances, and I felt I had spent enough time talking about Jane Fairfax. Indeed, I had spent enough time talking altogether, and I soon excused myself, returning to the Abbey, where William Larkins was waiting for me, with the accounts.

Wednesday 7 April

John is to be with us shortly, with his two sons, and it will not be a moment too soon. My only regret is that John cannot stay. He will be here for a day, but then he must go back to London. We must be grateful that he is leaving the boys with us. It will provide us with some welcome company; company, moreover, that is more to my taste than the present Highbury company. I am growing tired of Weston’s talk about his son. Never a day seems to go by without him having a letter from his son, or expecting a letter, or wishing for a letter, and with it goes a wish that his son might pay us another visit. He seems to be obsessed with the young man, and Mrs. Weston is just as bad!

And if I am not hearing about Frank Churchill, I am seeing the Eltons!

I seem to meet them everywhere I go. The whole of Highbury is giving parties for them. Mrs. Elton can do nothing but talk of her sister and her sister’s barouche-landau, and if I hear another comment about Mr. Suckling and Maple Grove, I am liable to say something I shall regret.

Thursday 8 April

It was a relief to throw myself into Abbey business today and forget about my neighbours.

Friday 9 April

It is a good thing I am in a better temper today! Emma is arranging a dinner party for the Eltons, and of course I must go, and be polite to Mrs. Elton. I admire the way Emma is bearing it all. I am sure she does not wish to see them, but she is behaving as though nothing unfortunate happened between her and Mr. Elton. I am sure in my own mind that he proposed, or came as close to it as makes no difference. What else would have made him leave Highbury so suddenly after Christmas, if he had not made a declaration and been rejected? So, on the 13th, I must brace myself to hear all about Mr. Suckling and Maple Grove.

Saturday 10 April

An unlucky chance has made my brother choose the day of the party for his visit to Hartfield. He is not fond of company at the best of times, and to have to endure it without his wife present, and with a bridal couple who must be made much of, will be a sore trial to him. I can only hope he will curb his temper, and not upset Mr. Woodhouse.

Emma is worried because it will put her numbers out, and her father’s nerves are on edge because it makes the party bigger than he cares for.

The one good thing is that Harriet has cried off. She does not want to see Elton, I suppose, after Emma put it into her head to think of him.

How the matter of Harriet will resolve itself I do not know.

Monday 12 April

Emma’s problems have been solved in an unexpected way. Weston has been summoned to town, and cannot attend the dinner, though he means to call in afterwards, when he returns, so Emma’s numbers are now perfect.

All is now settled. John arrives tomorrow. He will be calling here first, and then going on to Hartfield, where he will leave the boys.

Tuesday 13 April

My two eldest nephews are growing apace. They are bright, lively boys, and they chased each other round the garden as John and I took a walk. He told me that Isabella and the other three children were well, and that his business is prospering. I took him to see the new path, and he approved of what I had done.

He did not stay long, but soon went on to Hartfield, with the boys being quieter for their run around. They were much more subdued when they arrived at Hartfield than they had been for most of the journey, he told me when I saw him again at Hartfield just before dinner, and they had not put too great a strain on their grandfather’s nerves.

Mr. Woodhouse was as courteous as ever, making the rounds of his guests and paying particular attention to Mrs. Elton, which pleased her greatly. He was very conscious of what was due to her as a bride.

John was talking to Miss Fairfax. He feels, as I do, that her lot is a hard one. To be taken away from everyone she knows and loves, and thrust into another family - one which might be disgreeable, with spoilt children and doting parents - is not an enviable fate.

I have asked amongst my acquaintance and tried to find her a position but I have not had any success. If I could know she was going into a well-regulated household, where her talents would be appreciated, I would be much happier.

My brother was very courteous to her, and as he had passed her on a walk this morning, he asked if she had arrived home before the rain. Fortunately she had, but Mrs. Elton, officious as ever, declared that Miss Fairfax must not walk to the post office any more; Mrs. Elton would have her servant collect Jane’s post.

I admired Miss Fairfax for her tact in dealing with Mrs. Elton. She did not give any direct reply, but instead skilfully turned the conversation towards the post office’s efficiency, and from thence to handwriting, which was a subject much more to her taste, for it meant Mrs. Elton could no longer irritate her.

"Isabella and Emma both write beautifully," said Mr. Woodhouse; "and always did. And so does poor Mrs. Weston," he added, with half a sigh and half a smile at her.

I wonder when he will stop calling her "poor Mrs. Weston"!

"Mr. Frank Churchill writes one of the best gentlemen’s hands I ever saw," said Emma, distracting her father’s thoughts from the sad fate of the woman who sat there, happy and contented, with her husband and her friends about her.

I would have applauded, yet I do not like this habit she has grown into, of forever praising Frank Churchill. Why no one else can see that he is a wastrel with no sense of duty I do not know. I seem to be the only person who is not blind to his faults, and he has many of them.

"I do not admire it," I said, determined to speak my mind. "It is too small - wants strength. It is like a woman’s writing."

Emma did not agree. Perhaps I had gone too far in saying it was like a woman’s hand, but really, I do not see what is so remarkable about Frank Churchill’s writing.

Mrs. Weston was called upon to find a letter, and Emma declared that she had kept a note written by him, and that it was in her writing-desk.

Why has she kept a note written by the man? Is she really falling in love with him? A foolish young puppy, who thinks of no one but himself? Who cannot take the trouble to pay a visit to his own father on his father’s marriage? Who indulges in freaks and whims?

I believe my impatience showed in my reply.

"Oh! when a gallant young man, like Mr. Frank Churchill writes to a fair lady like Miss

Woodhouse, he will, of course, put forth his best," I remarked.

I saw John look at me in surprise, but I could not help myself. Besides, I did not think it was so very rude, although perhaps it was as well that, at that moment, dinner was announced.

Mrs. Elton led the way, as a bride should, and gloried in it, as a bride should not.

Poor Miss Fairfax! I believe she had a great deal to bear after dinner, when the ladies withdrew. When I returned to the drawing-room with the other gentlemen, Mrs. Elton was offering to help her find a position as a governess. I should be sorry to see Miss Fairfax take up a position in any household known to Mrs. Elton.

I was just thinking that things could get no worse when Weston joined us. As luck would have it - or as bad luck would have it - he brought with him a letter from his son.

I took up my newspaper. I had no desire to listen to any further praise of Frank Churchill’s magnificent handwriting.

The letter was even worse than I had expected. A string of promises, a row of false hopes, all wrapped up in insincerity and capriciousness; that was what I had expected. But instead I learnt that the Churchills are to remove to town on account of Mrs. Churchill’s health, and that Frank is to remove with them. He will be so close to Hartfield - only sixteen miles away - that he will be able to visit easily.

Mr. and Mrs. Weston were delighted. Emma was delighted. And I was not delighted.

"We have the agreeable prospect of frequent visits from Frank the whole spring," Weston said.

Agreeable to whom? I thought, rustling my newspaper.

"Precisely the season of the year which one should have chosen for it: days almost at the longest; weather genial and pleasant, always inviting one out, and never too hot for exercise. When he was here before, we made the best of it; but there was a good deal of wet, damp, cheerless weather; there always is in February, you know, and we could not do half that we intended. Now will be the time. This will be complete enjoyment; and I do not know, Mrs. Elton, whether the uncertainty of our meetings, the sort of constant expectation there will be of his coming in today or tomorrow, and at any hour, may not be more friendly to happiness than having him actually in the house. I think it is so. I think it is the state of mind which gives most spirit and delight."

In May, then, I am to have all the pleasure of Frank Churchill’s company, as long as I do not expire before then with the promise of so much spirit and delight.

Fortunately, John began to speak of his sons before my bad temper could get the better of me.

"I hope I am aware that they may be too noisy for your father; or even may be some encumbrance to you, if your visiting engagements continue to increase as much as they have done lately," he said to Emma.

"Let them be sent to Donwell," I said. "I shall certainly be at leisure."

"Upon my word," exclaimed Emma to me, "you amuse me! I should like to know how many of all my numerous engagements take place without your being of the party; and why I am to be supposed in danger of wanting leisure to attend to the little boys. If Aunt Emma has not time for them, I do not think they would fare much better with Uncle Knightley, who is absent from home about five hours where she is absent one - and who, when he is at home, is either reading to himself or settling his accounts."

I smiled at this. She knows me well.

Mrs. Elton claimed my attention, but when she had done, I went to sit by Emma.

"You will bring the boys over to the Abbey tomorrow? If the weather continues wet, it will give them a chance to run about and be noisy without distressing your father."

"By all means. Harriet is to call in the morning, and we will bring them together."

"Must you always be with Harriet?" I asked impatiently.

"That is hardly fair!" she cried. "I have seen very little of Harriet since…"

"Since Mr. Elton returned?" I enquired. I saw her look uncomfortable, but I let it pass. "Very well, if you must bring her, you must." I had done with Harriet. "I want to give the children a chance to ride whilst they are here," I went on. "It is not often we have them for such an extended spell."

"Oh, yes, they are full of high spirits and are bound to enjoy it. But it is perhaps better not to mention it to my father; he will only worry about it. I hope the weather holds."

"There will be some dry spells, I am convinced."

"And if it rains tomorrow?"

"Then you and I will have to entertain the boys indoors."

I am looking forward to it. Inside or out, any time I spend with the boys is well spent, and I would never rather be with anyone but Emma.

Wednesday 14 April

I cannot make up my mind. Is Emma in love with Frank Churchill, or is she not? I sometimes think she is, but then she says something that convinces me otherwise. She seems to welcome his attentions, and yet she has not shown any signs of being in a decline when he is away.

We were talking of Isabella’s living in London, and I said to Emma: "Could you bear to move away from Highbury?"

"If there was a strong enough inducement, then perhaps I might," she said.

I thought of Frank Churchill. Would he be a strong enough inducement?

"Isabella seems happy enough in London," she went on, "but then she is happy wherever her husband is."

"And when you marry, you will be happy wherever your husband is," I said, looking at her earnestly.

"I will never marry," she said. "Why should I? I already have everything I want at Hartfield. Like you, I have no need of children to interest me, for I have Isabella’s children, and like you, I am happiest at home."

I felt myself grow brighter. It is very comfortable to have Emma so near, and spending my time with her, playing with the children, is my idea of a perfect day.

Thursday 15 April

There has been a delay in the Churchill family’s move to London. I knew how it would be! Churchill’s letter meant nothing at all. I never put any reliance on it. What! Mrs. Churchill, to remove to London from her native Yorkshire? Why should she do such a thing? And even if she thought she might, then why should she go ahead with her plan, when she is as fickle as her nephew?

I said as much to Emma.

"It is hardly Frank Churchill’s fault," she said. "He is very much at his aunt’s beck and call. He will be with us as soon as he can."

She did not seem unduly worried by the delay, which was heartening, but she defended him, which was dispiriting.

I still do not like the idea of his merely being delayed for a while. Whenever he comes to Highbury, it will be too soon for me.

Wednesday 21 April

I had a most unwelcome shock when I went to Hartfield today. I had promised to collect the boys, so that they could spend a day at the Abbey with me, and when I walked into the drawing-room, I found Frank Churchill there!

He had only come to pay a short visit, in order to say that the Churchills had at last moved to town. His aunt is still very sickly and she could not spare him for longer.

I was very sorry for Mrs. Churchill, and, once I knew he was not to visit us, for Frank Churchill, too.

"I believe the idea of Frank Churchill always being at Hartfield, now the Churchills are in London, will come to nothing," I said to Emma.

She remarked that it would be a pity, but as she then went on to see that the boys were warmly wrapped up, and to soothe her father’s fears that they would take cold on the walk to the Abbey, and to tell them to behave, and to remind me that I must not give them too much to eat, I did not think she was very much affected by it.

I begin to think that Frank Churchill is not so bad, after all. Perhaps I have been too hard on him: a young man who has to pay constant attention to a sick aunt must be forgiven the odd indiscretion.

In fact, if he remains in London, I believe I will like him very well indeed.

Thursday 22 April

The day was cold and wet. I attended to business this morning, and this afternoon, Emma called with the two little boys. I was delighted to find that Harriet was not with her. I have hardly seen Emma without her friend these last few months. We took the boys through the woods and watched them play.

"You will never marry, will you, Mr. Knightley?" she asked me.

I thought she seemed anxious, and I was gratified by her concern.

"No, never," I said. My spirits rose. Did she feel she would not like me to marry anyone else, because she would like me for herself? "You seem pleased," I said.

"I am," she replied.

Will you…I tried to say the words, but I was suddenly nervous and they would not come out.

I cleared my throat and was about to try again when she continued by saying: "I would not like little Henry to lose his inheritance."

Foolish, foolish fantasy! She was not in love with me after all, she was simply concerned for Henry.

"Oh, so that is the reason," I said, subdued.

"You would not like him to lose it, either, would you?" she asked anxiously.

"If I had a son of my own, I must reasonably assume I would rather see the Abbey go to him than my nephew," I replied. "But since I have no plans to marry, I see no reason for you to worry about Henry."

No plans, as yet, I thought, as she smiled at me. But I fully intend to marry if I can persuade Emma to marry me. I do not despair of it. She does not seem set on Churchill and she likes me, I know. In time, I hope she will come to see me as a husband.

She put her hand through my arm as we walked back through the gardens, and as we reached the Abbey the sun came out.

Friday 23 April

Frank Churchill was in Highbury today, but he spent very little time at Hartfield. He paid a call in the morning, and then went on to the Bateses, and had lunch with Mr. and Mrs. Weston before going back to London.

Monday 26 April

I joined Emma and her father at Hartfield this morning, and I found the Westons there. They had called to say that Mrs. Churchill felt no better in London, and that she had taken a house at Richmond for May and June.

I looked at Emma, wondering how she would take the news, for Richmond is very near.

"He will be with us all the time," said Weston, delighted. "It is only a short distance, no more than nine miles, and what is nine miles?"

"And now the ball can go ahead," said Mrs. Weston to Emma.

Emma was delighted, and I was downcast. I did not begrudge her her happiness, but I was left to trust in her good judgement and hope she sees through him in the end.

Mr. Woodhouse was not happy with the idea of the ball, either, though he likes it better in May than he did in February, as the chance of draughts are fewer. But he was still worried that the boys might be taken ill whilst Emma was away.

"You will have Mrs. Bates to sit with you," said Emma, "and if either of the boys is unwell, you can send a message to me at the Crown and I will come home directly."

Thus soothed, he subsided into vague hopes that no disasters would mar the evening. I hoped so, too, though the disasters I envisaged were of a different kind.