I had never thought so ill of a man in my life. To withdraw to the card-room would have been sensible; to have avoided her would have been unkind but permissible; yet to stand directly in front of her, and then to move away - that was abominable.

Things grew worse. Mrs. Weston asked him if he danced, and he offered to partner her, or Mrs. Gilbert; but when she mentioned Harriet, he had the effrontery to say that he was an old married man and his dancing days were over.

I was so incensed that I walked over to Harriet and asked her to dance myself. She looked up at me with such an expression of humble gratitude that my heart swelled.

I had not thought Elton could be so small-minded. Marriage had not made him better; it had made him many times worse. He had never been petty-minded before. Vain, yes; proud, yes; thinking well of himself, yes; but cruel towards others - no. And what another! A young girl with no family to offer her protection. I was disgusted with him, and did not trouble to conceal it.

I led Harriet on to the floor with all the deference I would have given to an heiress with £50,000, and I was gratified to see Elton’s black look, as well as Harriet’s radiant smile.

Emma might have chosen unwisely for Elton, but not as unwisely as he had chosen for himself. Harriet was shy at first, and said little, but she soon gained confidence and answered me freely, with an openness that was very attractive. She danced joyfully, bounding down the room like a lamb in spring, and I am sure the sight of her lifted the spirits of all reasonable men and women in the room.

During supper, I wondered again at Elton’s slight, for it was not only Harriet whom he had ill-treated. He had slighted Mrs. Weston, his hostess, when he had refused to dance with a partner she offered him, and he had sent a message to Emma, that he would not do anything to oblige her; more, that he was happy to disoblige her. And, by the glances that passed between Elton and his wife, it was clear she encouraged him.

When supper was over, Emma beckoned me over to her with her eyes. She thanked me for my kindness to her friend and we joined in censuring Elton and his abominable behaviour.

"The Eltons aimed at wounding more than Harriet," I said. "Emma, why is it that they are your enemies?" She said nothing, so I continued. "She ought not to be angry with you, I suspect, whatever he may be. To that surmise, you say nothing, of course; but confess, Emma, that you did want him to marry Harriet."

"I did," she confessed at last, "and they cannot forgive me."

Poor Emma!

"I shall not scold you," I said kindly. "I leave you to your own reflections."

"Can you trust me with such flatterers? Does my vain spirit ever tell me I am wrong?" she asked ruefully.

"Not your vain spirit, but your serious spirit. If one leads you wrong, I am sure the other tells you of it," I said, loving her more than ever.

"I do own myself to have been completely mistaken in Mr. Elton," she confessed. "There is a littleness about him which you discovered, and which I did not: and I was fully convinced of his being in love with Harriet. It was through a series of strange blunders!"

I was touched by her confidence.

"And, in return for your acknowledging so much, I will do you the justice to say, that you would have chosen for him better than he has chosen for himself. Harriet Smith has some first-rate qualities, which Mrs. Elton is totally without. An unpretending, single-minded, artless girl - infinitely to be preferred by any man of sense and taste to such a woman as Mrs. Elton. I found Harriet more conversable than I expected."

She was gratified. There was time for no more. The dancing was about to begin again.

My heart was warmed when, on asking her whom she meant to dance with, Emma said: "With you, if you will ask me."

My spirits surged.

"Will you?" I said, looking down into her eyes as I offered her my hand.

"Indeed I will," she replied, taking it. She was back to her old self. "You have shown that you can dance, and you know we are not really so much brother and sister as to make it at all improper."

"Brother and sister! - no, indeed."

As I led her onto the floor, I wondered if she saw me as a brother. I knew I had an opportunity, in the dance, to make her see me as something more. She was not in love with me, perhaps, but I felt confident I could make her love me. And then…a happy future opened out before me. Emma and I at the Abbey, with our own children.

Little Henry will have to make his own way in the world, I fear!


Wednesday 5 May

There was a most unfortunate incident today. I was just about to set out for Kingston when I was greeted by a messenger from Hartfield. He gave me a note, and I was alarmed to see that Harriet had been attacked by a group of gypsies on the Richmond Road. She and a friend had been walking along when they had seen the gypsies and, taking fright, had run away. Harriet had not been able to run very far as she had suffered from a cramp, and it was only the timely intervention of Frank Churchill, who just happened to be passing, that saved her from bodily harm.

I set out at once to see that the road was made safe again, but by the time I arrived the gypsies had hurried off. They had no mind to face a magistrate, and I am persuaded they will not trouble us again.

But I am still concerned that this should have happened in my parish.

I went to see Weston straight away and told him what had happened. He had not heard of it, as his son had been on his way to Richmond when the attack and rescue occurred, and had therefore continued with his journey, but he was as concerned as I was. We decided we would speak to the other gentlemen of the parish at our whist club tonight. We must be vigilant if this is not to happen again.

I went from Randalls to Hartfield to satisfy myself that Harriet was all right. I found my nephews full of the story, and relishing it as little boys should. The story of Harriet and the gypsies will, I feel, inspire their games for weeks to come.

Harriet had been shaken by the incident, but she was much recovered. She had had Churchill to rescue her, and Emma and Mr. Woodhouse to make much of her, and this had quickly restored her spirits.

Mr. Woodhouse, however, was in a quake, and would hardly be satisfied until Emma promised him she would never leave the grounds again.

However, he will accustom himself to it by and by, and I have no doubt she will be walking to Randalls as usual tomorrow.


Tuesday 11 May

The boys were still talking of Harriet and the gypsies when I went to Hartfield today. They were in a boisterous mood, and Emma and I took them outside to fly a kite. The wind was high, and we had no difficulty in getting the kites to soar aloft. I handed the strings to Henry and helped him manage them, whilst Emma helped John.

The children were delighted with the game, though Mr. Woodhouse, when we returned to the house, was unhappy.

"I do not think you should have played with a kite in such a wind," he said to Henry. "It is particularly strong today, and it might have carried you away."

"But we were holding the strings, too, Papa," said Emma. "Did you not see? Mr. Knightley held on to Henry’s kite, and I held on to John’s. The wind looked strong, perhaps, but once outside it was not so very bad. It tugged now and again at the kites, but we were never in any danger, and if it had tugged too hard, we could always have let the strings go, you know."

"You mean well, my dear, I know, but I cannot like it. You should not play with kites when the wind is so high."

"We have to play with them in the wind, Grandpapa," said Henry, "otherwise they will not fly."

Mr. Woodhouse told the boys that kites were for grownups, not little boys, and this so upset the children, who thought they would have to wait another twenty years before being allowed to fly a kite again, that Emma had three sets of nerves to soothe before tea.

I cannot believe we will be sending the boys on their way again in a few days. It hardly seems like any time since they arrived.

I almost spoke to Emma this evening; almost gave her an intimation of my feelings; but I felt the time had not yet come - that she did not yet see me as more than a friend - and so I held my peace.


Saturday 15 May

John arrived to collect the boys and we all took luncheon together.

"Will you not stay?" asked Emma.

"No, I must get home," he said.

Emma was resigned, knowing that nothing can keep John away from his hearth and home, unless it is unavoidable.

Emma had made a new cap for the baby, a shirt for little George, a handkerchief for Isabella, and a doll for Bella. John thanked her for the presents and promised to deliver them. Then it was time for him to go.

Mr. Woodhouse mourned their absence, though I think the boys were here long enough. He had been getting more and more worried about them as they had grown more and more confident. It is as well they were going home, where they could play to their heart’s content without worrying Grandpapa.

June

Tuesday 1 June

I was dining at the vicarage this evening when I saw something disturbing. Frank Churchill kept catching Jane Fairfax’s eye, and I am sure some secret intelligence passed between them. I thought at first that Churchill had switched his affections, but this was not the case, as he went on making love to Emma. I was at a loss as to what it could mean.