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.
And to have to stand by and watch her betrothed pay attention to another woman, I thought. He is even worse than I painted him.
Whilst John and Isabella talked over the news, my thoughts returned to Emma. She must be heartbroken. She could not even turn to her usual confidante, Mrs. Weston, because Mrs. Weston was too closely involved.
"I must go to her!" I said with decision, correcting myself as I saw Isabella’s startled expression.
" - to Highbury."
John looked at me curiously.
"But we thought you were to stay for another week," said Isabella.
"There is business for me to attend to - parish business," I said, folding my letter. "Weston writes to me of it."
I told them how much I had enjoyed my visit, and resisted Isabella’s entreaties to stay. I took my leave of the children, thanked John and Isabella, and was on my way.
I rode out of London thinking of nothing but Emma, my poor, heartbroken Emma. I scarcely noticed the rain. My horse was fresh, and I made good time. As I approached Highbury, the wind dropped to a gentle breeze, the clouds cleared and the sun came out.
I arrived at Hartfield. Emma was not in the house, but Mr. Woodhouse was there with Perry. I gave him greetings from Isabella, then asked him: "Where is Emma?"
"She is walking in the garden."
I went outside to look for her, and I saw her walking along the path. Her shoulders were drooping and her head was down. My heart cried out in sympathy. For her to be so deceived! And by such a useless young man! He had come among us, simpering and smiling and flirting, whilst all the time his affections and his hand were engaged. The monstrosity of it! I had thought him a worthless fribble, but I had not thought badly enough of him. There could be no mistake; no misunderstanding. He had used her; deceived her.
She arranged her face as she looked up and saw me. Brave girl! She would not let me see how unhappy she was.
"Mr. Knightley! I did not think to see you here. I thought you were still in London."
"I finished my business early, and I decided to return to the Abbey," I said, looking down into her eyes with compassion.
"You must have had a wet ride."
"Yes," I said.
"And how is everyone in London?" she asked, without any of her usual animation.
"They are all well, and send you their best wishes. Your sister begs me to tell you that baby Emma is starting to look just like you. She has your features, and the same shape of face."
"And will lose them, no doubt, before she is very much older!" she said.
"Perhaps."
"And how are the boys, and little Bella?"
"They are well, all well. The boys are continuing their riding-lessons, and Bella is begging to be allowed to learn, but her mother thinks she is too young. George is growing into a fine boy. I believe we might see them here before long."