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.