But she admitted nothing. She said only: "From all he says, Miss Hawkins seems to be a handsome and accomplished woman. I wish them both very well."

Well done, Emma! I thought with admiration.

Elton’s triumphant glances in her direction, his dwelling on his beloved’s dowry and her connections at Maple Grove, had all been intended to humiliate her, but they had not done so. She had risen above them, and behaved perfectly. Not even such a shameful display on Elton’s part had been enough to make her petty-minded, or to prompt her to say something rude about Augusta Hawkins.

And that is why, though I am frequently exasperated by her, and often despair of her, I always find Emma endearing.


Saturday 20 February

Elton has at last departed for Bath, and we are left in peace. It is a busy time of year at the Abbey with the sheep. The weather is not propitious, as we have had more snow, but my shepherds know their job, and I hope we will have a good number of lambs this year.


Monday 22 February

I called on Miss Bates this morning as business took me into Highbury, but she was out, and I found that old Mrs. Bates was alone. It was difficult to talk to her, as she is growing rather deaf, but I gathered that Miss Bates was helping Mr. Longridge to choose a house, and that Miss Fairfax had gone with them.

Mr. Longridge had wanted a woman’s opinion, it seems, as he knows little about the arrangement of kitchens and so forth, and Miss Bates had been happy to oblige.

I am sure his motive in asking for her help was kindness: Miss Bates, with her own small establishment, knows little of houses.

I liked him even more when I discovered that he had prevailed upon Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax to agree to dine with him afterwards, at a small country inn, in company with the Otways and the Coles.

He would have taken Mrs. Bates as well, but she had preferred to remain indoors, knitting by the fire.

And so, he had arranged to provide Miss Bates and her niece with an enjoyable day, and with a meal into the bargain.

It is a pity that I did not see Miss Fairfax, but as she is to be with us for some time, there will be plenty of other opportunities for me to speak to her.


Tuesday 23 February

The weather grows worse, and it was with difficulty that I managed to walk to Hartfield after dinner this evening, but I did not want to neglect my friends. I found Emma and her father sitting with Harriet.

I have grown used to finding Harriet there, and it was welcome this evening, as it meant that Emma and I could play backgammon without worrying that her father would be bored. He had Harriet to sit with him, and she read him Isabella’s latest letter again: little George had a cold, the baby was growing rapidly, and Henry was making good progress with his reading.

"I called on Miss Bates this morning," she said.

"And you are wanting me to praise you for it," I said.

"No. If I want flattery, I know I must look elsewhere!"

We began to play.

"And did you find Miss Fairfax at home?" I asked her.

"I did. She had just returned from the post office. If I had called half an hour sooner, I would not have seen her."

"And did you still find her reserved?"

"Yes, I did. I found it very difficult to have a conversation with her. She listened politely to everything I had to say, and she answered every question I put to her, but she volunteered nothing.

"Perhaps she had nothing to volunteer."

"Nothing to volunteer, when she has been away from us for two years? What of all her news? Talk of her friend and her friend’s wedding? Of the Campbells, and her life with them? Of her time at Weymouth, and her adventure on the boat? I am sure that could occupy half an hour at least."

"I thought she had told you something of her friend’s wedding a few days ago?"

"She did, but only when I asked her outright for information."

There was something in her tone which gave me pause.

"What mischief are you brewing now?" I asked.

She looked at me innocently.

"You are a very suspicious man, Mr. Knightley. What makes you think I would be brewing mischief?"

"Experience," I remarked.

"It is sometimes very inconvenient to talk to someone I have known all my life," she said playfully.

"It is also very unfair. It gives you an advantage. You know all about my childhood freaks, and I know nothing about yours."

"That is because I never had any!" I returned.

She laughed.

"What is it, my dear?" asked her father, looking up from the letter.

"Mr. Knightley says he had no childhood freaks."

"I am sure he did not," said her father. "I have known Mr. Knightley all his life, and he has never suffered from freaks. A better man it would be hard to find. Why, even as a boy he was very well-mannered. I remember him saying to me, when I had had a cold: “I am sorry to hear you have not been well. I hope you are recovered?” and he was only five years old."

I did not remember this evidence of my childhood virtues, but I said: "There you are," to Emma none the less.

"I believe I will ask John about you and find out the truth the next time I see him," she returned. "I cannot believe you led a blameless childhood. I am sure you had your share of mischief."

"As he is unlikely to visit us before the summer, I am not afraid."

"Summer will come," she said, "and I will be waiting!"

"You are incorrigible," I told her, and she laughed.

It was a very happy evening, and I came home well-pleased with life.


Wednesday 24 February

I called on Miss Bates today, and found Mrs. Goddard there. They were talking of Mr. Longridge as

I was shown in.

"A very fine man," Miss Bates was saying. "It was so sad for him to lose his wife. It was twenty years to the day yesterday, he was felling me, and he’s never forgotten her, poor man, but so kindhearted! He came to see if mother and I had enough coal. He is in the way of it, though I am not sure how. I think it was something to do with canals, though what canals have to do with coal I am sure I do not know. Why, here’s Mr. Knightley."

I enquired after her health, and the health of her mother and Miss Fairfax.

"Well, I thank you," she said. "We are all well."

I thought, perhaps, Miss Fairfax looked a little better. She was not so pale as previously, although this could have been because she was sitting nearer the fire, and the heat was giving her cheeks a ruddy glow. She was helping her grandmother wind wool.

Mrs. Cole was talking about the dinner party she means to give. Ever since her husband provided her with a new dining-room, she has been longing to entertain.

"I have ordered a screen from London, in the hope that Mr. Woodhouse might be prevailed upon to join us. I know he does not go out as a rule, but we would be honoured if he would condescend to visit us, and I thought, perhaps, if he was properly sheltered from draughts, he and Miss Woodhouse might accept our invitation," said Mrs. Cole.

So Mrs. Cole is planning to invite Emma to her dinner party. It will be interesting to see how Miss

Woodhouse of Hartfield reacts!


Thursday 25 February

It was good to dine out again, at the Otways, as problems with the accounts, heavy weather and troubles with the sheep have kept me at the Abbey for some time, except when I have been dining at Hartfield.

There was the usual talk before dinner. Mr. Longridge had seen two houses near Highbury, but neither of them had been suitable. Three Chimneys had had a dark hall, and Whitestone had had a very small garden.

"Hardly big enough to put a seat in, let alone have friends round in the summer. I like a garden," Mr. Longridge said.

Weston seemed very happy. He said nothing, but he and Mrs. Weston have been married for some months, and I think we might soon have news that another Weston is on the way. Mrs. Weston was not there this evening, as she was indisposed, lending credence to my idea.

At the end of the evening, Weston and I walked home together until our paths diverged. He told me he was still hoping to see his son in Highbury, but until such time, he was finding comfort in talking of Frank to Miss Fairfax.

"It was fortunate her meeting him at Weymouth," he said to me. "She has been able to tell me how he looked, and what he said and did. She is more nervous than I remember her, though," he said with a frown. "Every time I asked her a question she blushed before she answered."

Perhaps it is just because her spirits are low, but I suspect another reason for her embarrassment. I think it possible that Frank Churchill did not please her. If he is what I think he is, he was probably condescending to her or her friend. She would not wish to say so to Mr. Weston, of course, which is why she was embarrassed.

I did not tell Weston what was going through my mind. He might as well think his son is perfect for as long as he can.


Friday 26 February

I have discovered Emma’s reaction to the Coles" plan to invite her to their dinner party. I do not know where she heard of it, though I suspect the news came from Mrs. Weston, via Weston and Cole, but she has already decided she will not go.

"Who are the Coles?" she asked in a superior voice, as we played chess, whilst her father ate a bowl of gruel.

"They are your neighbours," I said.

"But of such low origin, in trade!"