Today was a fine day. After the recent bad weather it was a relief to wake to a blue sky and a stiff breeze, rather than sleet and scattered snow. I received a letter from John this morning and I walked over to Hartfield so that I could share the news.
"Will he be coming to us at Easter?" asked Emma.
"No, he says he is too busy, but he has promised to visit us for an extended spell in the summer."
"But the children will have grown so much by then!"
Mr. Woodhouse sighed and shook his head, murmuring, "Poor Isabella! She must miss us terribly."
"You must write back and persuade your brother to spare us a few days," said Emma.
"I only wish I could. I would like to have the boys here myself."
"And not the girls?" Emma teased me.
"The girls, too!"
"Emma will no longer be a baby the next time we see her. If we wait until the summer, she will be more than one year old."
"But she will not be too big for her aunt to play with," I said.
"Or her uncle. You are as capable of doting on the children as I am."
At this Mr. Woodhouse broke in anxiously: "Only sometimes, Mr. Knightley, I fear you are too rough. I have seen you throwing them up to the ceiling, and it is very dangerous."
"Come now, Papa, the children enjoy it," said Emma.
"Children enjoy all sorts of things that are not good for them, my dear," he said. "Once, Henry asked me for a knife, but I told him knives were only made for grandpapas. I could not think of letting him have anything so dangerous."
Emma wisely changed the subject. We spoke of the Bateses, the Coles and the Westons, and Mr. Woodhouse was soon soothed.
I could not stay to luncheon as business called me back to the Abbey but I walked over to Hartfield after dinner and spent the remainder of my evening there.
Once I was settled in my chair, Emma told me she had written to Isabella and begged her to spare her two oldest children for a time.
"I know she will not be parted from the younger ones, but if John finds himself travelling this way on business he could bring the older children with him and leave them here."
She looked at me.
"Well?" I asked her.
"I thought that you might like to write something similar to John," she said.
"Hah! Very well. I will add my entreaties to yours, and see if we cannot persuade them between us."
March
Monday 1 March
Whilst dining with Graham this evening, Mr. Longridge spoke of his continuing efforts to find a house in Highbury.
"I have seen so many houses, if I did not have my friends to help me, I would be thoroughly confused."
"You have been to Brookfield?" asked Mrs. Cole.
"Not yet, but I have it on my list, and I am going there tomorrow. I have high hopes of it. I have heard it is an excellent house."
"It is certainly very conveniently placed, being on the London road."
"I do not believe I shall be going to London very much, except to visit the shops and theatres from time to time. I like the countryside hereabouts, and I am having a new carriage made, the better to explore it. The springs are deplorable on the one I have at present."
"Not at all - most comfortable - Jane was only saying so this morning," said Miss Bates.
As she regaled Mrs. Cole with an account of Longridge’s carriage, I spoke to Miss Fairfax, trying to draw her out on the subject of the carriage, but after answering my questions with one word she relapsed into silence.
"I like my friends to be comfortable, and I like to be comfortable myself," said Mr. Longridge.
After talk on the comfort of carriages died away, Mrs. Goddard said that she had had a visit from the Miss Martins.
"They are the sisters of your tenant farmer, Mr. Robert Martin, I believe," said Graham.
"Yes, I know the family. Mr. Martin is an excellent tenant, and his family are very agreeable," I said.
"They were great friends with Harriet when they were all at school together, but they have not seen so much of each other recently," Mrs. Goddard said, determined to have her share of the conversation.
"It is a pity, for Harriet enjoyed her visit to them last summer immensely. But now, I hope, their intercourse is to resume."
"Oh?"
"They all seemed very friendly together. Miss Smith was surprised to see them. She has been so much with Miss Woodhouse and they, no doubt, have been busy at home, but she was soon chatting very pleasantly with them. I said to Miss Smith she must make sure she returned the call, and she said yes, she was looking forward to it. She was very happy at Abbey Mill Farm."
Mrs. Goddard looked at me as she said it, and then looked away. She has been in place of a mother to Miss Smith for many years, and I am sure she would like to see Miss Smith happily settled, as I would.
It remains to be seen if Emma has learnt her lesson and wishes it, too.
Tuesday 2 March
I went over to Hartfield to see Mr. Woodhouse on a matter of business and I was hoping to see Emma, but I learnt that she was out.
"She has taken Harriet to see some friends of hers, the Martins. She promised me she will not be long," said Mr. Woodhouse.
My spirits fell. I had hoped Emma would encourage her friend to return the visit, but I was unhappy that she had decided to go with her. I hoped it was an act of kindness on her part, to take Miss Smith in the carriage, but I feared it was because she did not want her friend to stay too long.
I scarcely listened to Mr. Woodhouse’s complaints about the weather, his infirmity, and the imagined infirmity of all his friends, so busy was I thinking of Emma, but when I heard the name Frank Churchill, I began to pay attention.
"Mr. and Mrs. Weston were here this morning, with some news about Mr. Weston’s son, Frank. He is to visit us," he said.
"I have been hearing of his visit these last six months, but it has never happened yet," I remarked.
"His time is not his own," said Mr. Woodhouse, shaking his head. "Mrs. Churchill is very ill, poor lady! If only she had Perry to attend her, she would soon see a marked improvement in her condition, but she has to rely on some Yorkshire doctor, who I dare say does not know his business."
"And when is Frank Churchill to visit?" I asked, feeling out of humour.
"On the morrow."
"On the morrow!"
I could scarcely believe it. After all the delays, to learn that Frank Churchill was to visit so soon!
"That is what Mr. Weston said," continued Mr. Woodhouse. "They are to see him by dinner-time as a certainty. He is at Oxford today, and he comes for a whole fortnight."
"A whole fortnight!" I cried.
I could think of nothing worse than a fortnight of Frank Churchill.
When I returned to the Abbey, I found my exasperation leaving me, and wondered why I had become so angry at the idea of his imminent arrival. I had never even met the young man, and to take him in such dislike was absurd. But when I called on Graham this evening and discovered that Frank Churchill had already arrived, my animosity was rekindled.
"Already arrived? But he is not due until tomorrow!" I said.
"He arrived early, as a surprise," said Graham, well-pleased.
"A charming thought," said Mrs. Cole, who had dined with Graham, along with her husband and the Otways.
"An unforgivable one," I said. "What, to arrive a day early, when nothing is ready, and to take his hosts by surprise. What if they had been out?"
"But they were not out," said Graham good-humouredly. "Mr. Weston is delighted with him, and Mrs. Weston, too."
I could say no more, but that did not stop me thinking it. Young men of that age are always careless of the feelings of others. They do not have the steady character that comes later in life. They make very bad sons and even worse husbands. It is a pity Frank Churchill could not have stayed at Enscombe.