Monday 28 June

For the last two days I have been in torment. I have not been like myself. I have been short-tempered and out of spirits. I think I was wrong to come here. Isabella has always reminded me too much of Emma.

And then there are the children. I thought: If I had known my own feelings last year, and spoken to Emma before she had met Frank Churchill, then she would already be my wife. I could, this very morning, be playing with my son, just as John is playing with his.


Tuesday 29 June

I determined to rouse myself and I attended to business, but this evening, a restless spirit was on me. As I sat in the drawing-room, with John reading his newspaper, Isabella sewing, and the children playing around us, I was given a picture of domestic felicity which set my heart aching. I wanted this for myself. I wanted it with Emma. If I had spoken - if I had not scolded her - if I had learnt my feelings sooner - if I had flattered her - if I had behaved as a lover and not a friend - if I had done all of the things I did not do, and none of the things I did, then perhaps I could have looked forward to the same kind of happiness.

July

Thursday 1 July

A letter from Highbury arrived this morning.

"It is from Miss Bates," said Isabella, recognizing the hand.

I picked up my newspaper and hid my face behind it. I did not want her to see my expression when she read the letter, for I was sure it would contain news of Emma’s betrothal.

As she began to read, I could scarcely breathe.

"Mother well - Jane still in low spirits - new gloves for Mrs. Cole - Mrs. Churchill dead."

Isabella stopped short. "Mrs. Churchill dead!"

I did not know what the information would mean for Emma. Would it delay her marriage, whilst the period of mourning was observed, or speed it, as Mrs. Churchill could not put any obstacles in the way?

Isabella was so shocked by the news that, fortunately, she did not notice my silence. She began to read Miss Bates’s letter more slowly: "We were all very shocked to hear it. Poor lady! It seems she was very ill after all. Mr. Churchill is better than can be expected - the funeral is to be in Yorkshire. Mother is so shocked! And poor Jane can hardly speak. She has been very ill, I fear. Perry is worried about her. She has a terrible headache -  Poor Jane," said Isabella, breaking off from reading the letter. "She is worried about her future, no doubt."

"No doubt," I managed to say.

I had recovered myself sufficiently to join in with the conversation, and the subject occupied us for the rest of the day.


Friday 2 July

I could not settle to anything. Emma is to marry Frank Churchill. It is as certain as the sun rising. I live in dread of the letter bearing the news, but a letter has not arrived. Emma will write to Isabella as soon as it is arranged, I am sure. Until then I am in torment. And afterwards…? I dare not think of it.


Saturday 3 July

I had luncheon at my club, with Routledge. As we finished our meal, I found him watching me curiously.

"Well?" he said.

"Well?" I asked.

"Out with it."

"Out with what?"

"Whatever it is that is bothering you," he said. "It must be something important, for you have not listened to a word I have said. You have answered me in an abstracted manner, and nothing you have said has made sense."

"Nothing is bothering me," I answered testily.

"You might as well make up your mind to tell me, because I will hound you until you do. I am tired of looking at your long face and hearing your sighs! It is not like you."

"I do not sigh!" I protested.

"I distinctly heard you as you ate your beef. You sighed."

I gave a deep sigh - then was angry with myself.

"Hah!" said Routledge. "There you are! It is as I said! You sighed. Well?"

I could not hide it from him any longer, nor did I wish to, for I needed to unburden myself.

"You were right." I said.

"About?"

"About Emma. Everything you said was true. I am in love with her. I cannot think why I did not see it sooner. I have been blind. She is the very woman for me."

"At last! I have been waiting for you to see it for months. Well, when are you going to marry her?"

"Never. I have missed my chance. She is going to marry Frank Churchill."

"Is she indeed?" he asked in surprise. "What busy lives you lead in Surrey! It is only a few months ago that you told me she was going to marry Elton. Elton, on the other hand, was going to marry Harriet - in Emma’s mind - but instead he went to Bath and came home with Augusta. It is as bad as A

Midsummer Night’s Dream. Are you sure there are no fairies in Highbury, who are making you their sport? It seems very like it. I expect to hear next that Jane Fairfax is about to marry Mr. Longridge, or that Miss Bates is engaged to Mr. Woodhouse."

I smiled despite myself.

"That is better," said Routledge. "A long face never helped anyone. Come now, tell me, what makes you think Emma is going to marry Churchill?"

"There is an understanding between them. From things she has said - things she has done - I asked her if she knew his mind on a certain subject, and she said she was convinced of it. In short, I thought he seemed to be casting glances at Jane Fairfax, some time ago, but Emma said she was sure of him. It was an intimate matter, one that would not have been spoken of if there had not been an engagement."

"And so they have announced their betrothal."

"I am expecting it any day, although it may be delayed as Mrs. Churchill has just died."

"Then, if it is as certain as you say, you had better marry Jane Fairfax instead."

"I have already thought about it, but I cannot do it."

"Why not? She is an attractive young woman, well-bred, agreeable and in need of a home."

"I cannot marry her for those reasons. Befriend her, help her - yes. But marry her? No."

"Then you had best see to your repairs at the Abbey, for it seems your nephew will inherit it, after all."

"It seems so." I remembered that Routledge sometimes saw John, and said: "You will say nothing of this to John? He does not know that I am in love with Emma. I can stand your rough concern, but if my brother knew, he would tell Isabella, and I cannot stand Isabella’s sympathy."

"I understand. I will say nothing to anyone. You may place your trust in me."

"Thank you."

"What do you intend to do now?" he asked me.

"Do? I will do what I have always done. Tend my estate, dine with my friends, play whist, look after the parish, and visit my brother."

"At least you will not have to see Emma, once she is married," said Routledge. "She will remove to Yorkshire, and not be reminding you of what you have lost."

"Small comfort," I said. "I do not know which is harder to bear, the thought of seeing Emma as the wife of another man, or the thought of never seeing her at all. I cannot imagine a life without her. What will it be like to go to Hartfield and find that she is not there? To dine with the Westons and see that her chair is empty? To go to church and see that she is not in her pew? To walk round Highbury with never a chance of meeting her?"

"You will adjust," he said.

"I suppose so," I said, but I did not believe it.

I was in low spirits when I returned to Brunswick Square. The boys wanted to play, but I put them off, saying: "Not now. I am tired."

I returned to my room and took up my quill. And now here I am, dreading another sleepless night and another empty day.


Monday 5 July

No letter again today. Perhaps, out of respect to Mrs. Churchill, they do not feel they can announce their engagement at once. But surely Emma would tell her sister?


Tuesday 6 July

The letter came, but what a letter! It was not from Emma, nor Miss Bates, but from Weston. My spirits sank when I saw it. It seemed that Emma’s letter must have been lost, and Weston was now writing of the news. How he had always longed for Emma as a daughter, and now he would have her!

But when I began to read the letter, I discovered it contained nothing but parish business - until I reached the end. I was so astonished that I cried out, and Isabella and John looked at me in surprise.

"Frank Churchill is engaged - to Jane Fairfax!" I said.

I thought at once of Emma. What would she be feeling? She must be desolate. She had been led on by him and deceived by him. I had suspected - I do not know quite what I had suspected, except that his behaviour had not rung true to me. And now the reason was revealed, because whilst he had been flirting with Emma, he had been paying court to Jane Fairfax.

I could scarcely believe it. I read on, and was more and more astounded. There had been a secret engagement between them, entered into in the autumn, at Weymouth, and hidden from everyone all the long months since.

And so he had been engaged when he had first come to Highbury! He had been engaged when he had danced with Emma. Engaged when he had flirted outrageously with her. Engaged when he had led everyone to believe he was on the point of making a proposal to her. Engaged…to Jane Fairfax!

"I cannot believe it," I said. "A secret betrothal…Jane Fairfax…I cannot believe she would be a party to such a thing."

"No wonder she has been ill," said Isabella.

"No wonder, indeed. To have to keep such a thing secret!" said John.