"Does her husband not object?" he asked. "He seems to be unusually compliant if he allows her to stay with her brother so often - unless, of course, he goes, too?"
"She is a widow."
"Ah, I see. It is a recent bereavement? Is that why she stays so often with her brother? She is in need of consolation, I suppose."
"Not so very recent. Her husband has been dead for five years. She stays with her brother because she enjoys his company, not because she is grieving."
"I see. She is old, I take it? Graham must be thirty-five, so his sister is about forty, I collect, with several children?"
"Forty!" I said. "She is no such thing. She is his younger sister, and cannot be more than seven-or eight-and-twenty. As for children, I have never heard them mentioned."
"I believe you said she was ugly?"
"No, she is rather beautiful," I remarked. "In fact, she is very beautiful."
"And?"
"And what?"
"And, if she is a young and beautiful widow, who is the sister of your friend, have you not thought of marrying her?" he asked.
"Yes," I admitted. "I have. But I could not bring myself to think of her in that way. She would always be wanting to go to Brighton, or Bath, or London, or Weymouth, and I like to spend my time in Highbury."
"That is the worst reason for not marrying a woman I have ever come across! You surprise me,
Knightley. I did not think you would be so easily defeated. Surely some agreement could be reached?"
"If I loved her, yes. But I have no feelings for her. I did not miss her when she returned to Bath for a spell and that told me that she was not important to me."
"Why should you, indeed? You had plenty to do. You could not be expected to pine for her like a lovesick schoolboy."
"I was never a lovesick schoolboy. The notion of love, in my youth, struck me as ridiculous, but I always miss Emma when I am away from Highbury, no matter how much I have to do."
"Do you?" he asked thoughtfully.
"Yes, I do. I often resent an evening spent in London, because I cannot walk over to Hartfield after dinner and discuss the day’s news."
"And is there no one else you have seen who might interest you? No woman who has caught your fancy, or entertained you, or intrigued you?"
"My brother has introduced me to several young ladies, but the idea of an evening with one of them is not as enticing to me as the idea of five minutes with Emma," I said shortly.
"And have you met no great beauties?"
"A few. But I prefer to look at Emma."
"And what does all this tell you?" he asked me,
"That I have not yet met the right woman, and that there is no use my marrying unless I find someone I like as well as Emma," I said.
He laughed, though I did not know why. There was nothing very amusing in what I had said.
"I have a feeling you will be married before the year is out," he told me.
I could not agree with him, but for the sake of peace I did not contradict him and our conversation moved on to other things.
Friday 15 January
I returned home from London, and spent the evening at Hartfield. I enjoyed myself so thoroughly that I was convinced I would be foolish to exchange such company for something less agreeable. I would like to marry, but I would rather remain single than give up my evenings with Emma and her father.
Wednesday 20 January
The new path at the Abbey is proving troublesome. First we could not lay it because of the snow, then because of the flood that followed, and now there is such a thick frost that work cannot go ahead. I would like to have it finished for the spring, and I am chafing at the delay. However, it is only January, and I do not despair of some milder weather soon.
Weston called this morning to discuss a matter of business, and as he was leaving he told me that Miss Fairfax had arrived.
I took the first opportunity to call on Miss Bates, so that I could pay my respects.
Somehow the Bates’s apartment seemed shabbier today than usual, though I could not think why. It was still in the same house, belonging to the same people in business. It still occupied the drawing-room floor. It was still of a moderate size. Mrs. Bates was still sitting in the corner with her knitting, and Miss Bates was still ready to make me welcome.
And then I realized it was because of Miss Fairfax. Whether it was because her presence provided novelty, and therefore made me look at the room anew, or whether it was because everything seemed shabby in comparison with her beauty, I could not say. But shabby it seemed.
My first impression of Miss Fairfax was very favourable. She was even more beautiful than I remembered her, and I moved forward to greet her.
"I am very glad to see you in Highbury again, Miss Fairfax," I said to her.
"Thank you," she replied.
As I saw her in a better light, I noticed she was thin and pale.
"Your aunt tells me you have been ill?" I remarked, as I took a seat beside her.
"It is nothing. A cold, that is all," she said.
She seemed listless and out of spirits.
"But you have had it for several months?" I asked.
"It is hard, over the winter, to rid oneself of a cold," she said quietly.
"Now we have her back at Highbury, she will be well again in no time," said Miss Bates. "Our good Highbury air will restore her, depend upon it, Mr. Knightley. Mr. Perry is convinced of it. I spoke to him only this morning. He called to see Jane - so good! So obliging! We are so grateful to him - and he says that now she is back home, she will no doubt recover. Our friends have all been so kind, sending anything they think Jane might enjoy. Only this morning Mr. Longridge sent some calves"-foot jelly! Mr. Woodhouse has sent us a beautiful piece of pork, and Mr. Graham sent some bottled pears. I told him we could not think of taking them, but he said he had had such a glut of pears this year that we would be doing him a kindness in taking them. I am sure we will have her better in no time."
I could tell from her expression, though, that she was worried.
Various remedies were discussed; and then, seeing that Miss Fairfax looked upset at all this talk of her health, I talked about the Abbey, about John, Isabella and the children; in short, anything that I thought would lift her spirits.
She smiled a little when I spoke of Henry and John skating on the stream, for she met them as very small children, when she visited us two years ago.
"Oh, yes, Jane was so pleased to hear about the children. We had a visit from Miss Woodhouse, and she was so obliging as to tell us all about them," said Miss Bates.
Her remark pleased me. I had been going to call at Hartfield and suggest that Emma visit Miss
Fairfax, but I was glad that her own good sense had already prompted her to call.
I spent a little while longer with the Bateses, then I went on to Hartfield, pleased with my visit. I was eager for Emma’s opinion of Miss Fairfax, and I was both surprised and happy to discover that, for once, Emma seemed to be fully aware of Miss Fairfax’s merits.
It made me glad of Emma’s friendship with Harriet which has, I believe, served as a useful counterpoint in showing Emma how to value Jane Fairfax.
"She is certainly handsome; she is better than handsome!" were Emma’s first words to me. I was very gratified to hear them.
"I had forgotten how elegant Miss Fairfax is," she went on. "A very pretty height, and a graceful figure, though I thought she looked a little thin."
"So did I!" I joined in, pleased to know that, for once, we thought alike. "But then, she has been ill."
"Yes, so her aunt told me. A cold, I believe. It is strange for a cold to last so long," she added thoughtfully.
There was something in her eye as she said it, and I feared mischief, but I found it was nothing worse than a desire to be useful, after all, for Emma continued: "I do not like to think of her going as a governess, for so much elegance and beauty will be wasted in the schoolroom. It is a pity there is no young man in Highbury who could rescue her from that fate."