'Ah! There is some difficulty unprovided for,' said Emma. 'William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you ask mine.'
I laughed. 'I am sure William Larkins will be overjoyed. He will have his old master back, instead of a man who is distracted.'
'Then I will think about it,' she promised me, and I am confident she will agree.
Thursday 8 July
When I returned to Hartfield this morning, I found that Emma wanted me to move to Hartfield as much as I want it myself. It is the best solution to our present difficulties. Emma and I can be together, and Mr Woodhouse will not be alone.
Whilst I was there, Mrs Goddard called, and as we all took tea together, she broached the subject of Harriet.
'Such a toothache, poor girl!' said Mrs Goddard.
Mr Woodhouse was all solicitousness.
'She must see Perry at once.'
'Would it not be better for her to see a dentist, Papa?' asked Emma.
'You are quite right, my dear, as you always are, but there is no one I would trust near by,' he said anxiously.
'We must send her to London, to see Isabella's dentist. I am sure Isabella will be glad to have her for a few days. Harriet was so good with the children when they were with us,' said Emma.
'Indeed she was,' he said, much struck.
I caught Emma's eye, and she coloured slightly: she was feeling guilty for encouraging her friend to think of Elton, and wished to give her some fun to make amends, I could tell, for once the trip to the dentist was over there would be trips to the London amusements. The delights of the shops and the entertainments would be there for Harriet to enjoy.
It was arranged that Emma would write to Isabella, and that Mrs Goddard would arrange the affair with Harriet. Mrs Goddard went away full of the news, and if her own excitement was anything to judge by, I thought Harriet would be very well pleased.
After tea, Emma and I took a walk around the gardens.
'I will go to your father this evening and ask him for your hand,' I said.
'No! I must be the one to tell him,' she said. 'It will be easier for him if it comes from me.'
'Very well, if you are sure.'
'I am.'
'Perhaps you are right. If you speak to him whilst I am still here, then I can add my reassurances to yours when the news has been broken.'
'No,' she said, 'I cannot tell him just yet. He is very nervous about Mrs Weston. It is only a fortnight now until her time, and I will not add any more anxieties to his present store. He does not need to know about our engagement yet. It will only cause him needless worry.'
I was impatient to reveal my happiness to the world, but at last I agreed.
Thursday 22 July
Mrs Weston has had a daughter! I could not be happier for her! She and her little girl are doing well, and Weston is beside himself with joy.
'She is the most beautiful baby in the world,' said Emma, when she had seen the infant. 'She looks just like Mrs Weston.'
I remarked that, with such parents, the baby would be indulged, and Emma cried mischievously: 'At that rate, what will become of her?'
'Nothing very bad,' I said with a smile. 'She will be disagreeable in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all my happiness to you, would it not be horrible ingratitude in me to be severe on them?'
She laughed, and said that she had had me to correct her. But I could not let this pass.
'My interference was quite as likely to do harm as good. How often, when you were a girl, have you said to me, with one of your saucy looks--"Mr Knightley, I am going to do so and so; Papa says I may"--something of which, you knew, I did not approve.'
'What an amiable creature I was! No wonder you should hold my speeches in such affectionate remembrance.'
' "Mr Knightley". You always called me "Mr Knightley", and, from habit, it has not so very formal a sound. And yet it is formal. I want you to call me something else, but I do not know what.'
'I remember once calling you "George", in one of my amiable fits, about ten years ago. I did it because I thought it would offend you; but, as you made no objection, I never did it again.'
'And cannot you call me "George" now?'
'Impossible! I never can call you any thing but "Mr Knightley". I will not promise even to equal the elegant terseness of Mrs Elton, by calling you Mr K. But I will promise,' she added presently, laughing and blushing, 'I will promise to call you once by your Christian name. I do not say when, but perhaps you may guess where--in the building in which N. takes M. for better, for worse.'
I am looking forward to that day. I can think of no greater happiness than having Emma as my wife.
Friday 23 July
Isabella has invited Harriet to stay on for another two weeks, so that she and John can bring her back to Highbury in their carriage when they visit us in August. I am glad. It means I will have Emma to myself, without her friend always being by.
Monday 26 July
I wrote to John of our engagement today. It will be a loss to his boys, there is no doubt about it. Little Henry will soon be replaced in his position of heir to Donwell Abbey, God willing. But John has always urged me to marry, and I do not think he will be displeased.
Tuesday 27 July
I have had a letter from John, congratulating me on my engagement. I showed it to Emma. It was brief, and wished me well.
Emma and I spoke again about when to tell her father the news. 'I have resolved to do it this afternoon,' she said.
'Do you want me with you?'
'No, I will do it better alone. Then, upon your arrival, you can add your assurances that it will be for the good of all.'
'Very well. What time do you want me to call?'
'At four o'clock. I will have tea with Papa first, then tell him the news, and then I rely on you to add your cheer.'
And so we agreed.
I arrived punctually at four o'clock, and found Mr Woodhouse in a state of misery.
'Ah, Mr Knightley, this is a sorry affair,' he said, on greeting me.
Not many men can have been met with these words when they announced their engagement!
'What! A sorry affair! To have Mr Knightley always with us!' said Emma rousingly. 'Someone to write your letters, and attend to business, and give us diversion when we are low in spirits!'
'That is very true,' he admitted.
'I count myself a lucky man to have won the hand of such a sweet, beautiful woman, for you know there is no one better than Emma in all the world,' I said.
'Yes, that is so,' he remarked, much struck. 'No man ever had a better daughter, unless it was Isabella, who was so happy, here at Hartfield before she married. Poor Isabella!' he said, shaking his head. 'Marriage is a dreadful thing.'
'But not this one, Papa. This one will not be taking me anywhere,' said Emma. 'I will still live at Hartfield. And I will have Mr Knightley here as well, as you will, Papa. It is quite a different matter from Isabella's marriage.'
He was at last brought round. He reminisced about Emma, and praised her many perfections.
I was not exasperated, as I used to be, when he spoke of them. Instead, I agreed with every one.
And so, slowly, he became accustomed to the idea.
To the idea, but not the fact. That will take some time to accomplish. But at least we have made a start.
Wednesday 28 July
Weston called on me at the Abbey this morning, to offer his congratulations.
'Mrs Weston and I could not be more delighted!' he said. 'It is a wonder it did not occur to us before. It is the most suitable thing. Who else would have agreed to move to Hartfield? Who else would have been so understanding of Mr Woodhouse? It is one of the things that concerned Anne and me, when we hoped Emma would marry Frank. Emma would have had to go to live in Yorkshire, and that would have been a sad thing indeed. But everything has turned out for the best, as I kn
ew it would. We are not to lose Emma, and Anne and I are still to gain a beautiful daughter-in-law in Jane Fairfax. Two daughters in one year! I am truly blessed.'
'And how is Anna?' I asked.
'Thriving. The joy of having a baby daughter! I hope you will soon know the same joy, Knightley. Anna is someone to brighten our lives, and to keep us lively as we grow old. I could not have wished for anything better. To think, I have a son and a daughter! And at my time of life! I am the most fortunate of men.'
'I think you will have to fight me for that honour!' I said.
'Will you join us for dinner tomorrow night?' he asked. 'Emma and her father are invited. Mrs Weston feels she may be of some assistance in reconciling Mr Woodhouse to the marriage.'
'Thank you, yes,' I said. 'I will be there.'
Thursday 29 July
We dined at Randalls this evening, and Mrs Weston was as great a help as she had meant to be.
'This is very good news,' she said cheerfully to Mr Woodhouse. 'Mr Knightley is just the person to take care of Emma, and of you. He is always so kind and considerate, and we all love him so dearly. It could not be a better arrangement.'
'Ah, poor Miss Taylor, it would be so much better if you had never married. You always liked living at Hartfield with us,' he said.
This was not encouraging, but she persevered.
'But if I had never married Mr Weston, I would never have had Anna,' she said, smiling at the baby on her knee. 'You know you love her. See, she loves you, too, for she is smiling at you.'
I could not see the smile, but Mrs Weston and Emma were certain it was there. Mr Woodhouse was very happy to believe it, and his cries of 'Poor Miss Taylor!' and 'Poor Emma!' soon subsided, to be replaced by cries of: 'She is a pretty little thing.'
'And she will have soon outgrown her first set of caps,' Mrs Weston said.
'I will have to make her some more,' said Emma.
And so the evening passed, and by the end of it, I felt we had worn away the worst of Mr Woodhouse's resistance.
AUGUST
Monday 2 August
Robert Martin called to say he was going to town on business, and he asked if there was anything he could do for me whilst there. I asked him to take charge of some papers for John, which he took very readily.
Thursday 5 August
I was surprised to find Robert Martin at my door as soon as I had breakfasted this morning, but when I saw his face, I guessed what he would say.
He had delivered the papers to John, and had then been invited to join John's party to Astley's in the evening. He had accepted the invitation, and had gone with John, Isabella, Henry, little John--and Harriet.
'There was quite a crush, and on quitting our box at Astley's, Mr John Knightley took charge of his wife and younger boy, whilst I followed with Harriet and Henry. Harriet was uneasy. I gave her my arm, and steered her safely through the crowd,' he told me.
By his recital of this small incident, I could guess what was coming, but I did not interrupt him. I was only too pleased to see him happy.
'Your brother asked me to dine with them the next day,' he went on. 'Very kind of him it was, and I accepted his invitation. In the course of the visit I had a chance of speaking to Harriet. I asked her to be my wife, Mr Knightley,' he told me, with a smile spreading across his face, 'and she said yes.'
I was delighted, and told him so, but I was pensive as I walked to Hartfield, not knowing how Emma would react to the news. I greeted her warmly, and then said: 'I have something to tell you, Emma; some news.'
'Good or bad?' she asked.
'I do not know which it ought to be called.'
For myself, I knew; and for Harriet and Mr Martin; but for Emma? I did not know how she would regard it. I said as much, and then said: 'It concerns Harriet Smith.'
She flushed, but said nothing.
'Harriet Smith prepares to marry Robert Martin. I have it from Robert Martin himself. He told me not half an hour ago.'
I thought she did not like it, and I said as much, but she replied: 'You mistake me. I never was more surprised--but it does not make me unhappy, I assure you. How--how has it been possible?'
I told her everything, and she made no reply.
'Emma, my love, I know you think of his situation as an evil; but you must consider it as what satisfies your friend; and I will answer for your thinking better and better of him as you know him more. His good sense and good principles would delight you. As far as the man is concerned, you could not wish your friend in better hands.'
I was relieved to learn that she had been silent only from surprise.
'You need not be at any pains to reconcile me to the match. I think Harriet is doing extremely well. Her connections may be worse than his. I have been silent from surprise merely, excessive surprise. You cannot imagine how suddenly it has come on me! How peculiarly unprepared I was! For I had reason to believe her very lately more determined against him, much more, than she was before.'
'You ought to know your friend best,' I said, 'but I should say she was a good-tempered, soft-hearted girl, not likely to be very, very determined against any young man who told her he loved her.'
It is a happy conclusion to the affair, and Emma sees it quite as well as I do.
Friday 6 August
As Emma and I walked in the garden at Hartfield this morning we were talking of Harriet again, and Emma laughed, saying: 'Only Harriet could be in love thrice in one year.'
'Thrice?' I asked. 'Mr Elton and Mr Martin are but two men.'
She coloured, but then said saucily: 'I see I must tell you all. I am very much afraid that, until recently, Harriet was in love with you.'
'Me?' I asked, astonished.
'You need not be so surprised. You are a very easy man to fall in love with. I have managed it myself without any difficulty.'
I smiled and pulled her hand through my arm.
'But Harriet...I cannot believe it. I gave her no encouragement. I barely spoke to her!' I said.
'You saved her from humiliation when you asked her to dance, and you singled her out at the Abbey, asking her if her affections were engaged.'
'The first was an act of charity, the second--she did not think I was asking if she was attached to me?'
'Yes, she did.'
'But I was thinking of Robert Martin! I wanted to know if she was still in love with him.'
'So I hoped, but she was adamant that nothing had been further from your mind--or hers. And then you sat with her at Hartfield just before you went to London, the day after Box Hill. She distinctly remembered you saying you could not stay for five minutes, but then you stayed with her for half an hour.'
'That is because I was waiting for you.'
'So I hoped--'
'You hoped?'
'When Harriet told me she was in love with you, and she was sure her feelings were returned--that is when I knew I loved you. I told her she must be mistaken, but she gave so many proofs of your affection, I thought it must be true. I was thinking of it as I walked in the garden when you returned from London, and it was at the forefront of my mind as you said you had something to tell me.'
'You thought...' I began in surprise. 'You cannot mean to say that you thought I was about to talk of Harriet?'
'Yes. I thought you were about to tell me that you were in love with her.'
'So that is why you looked so sad.'
'I thought I had lost you. I had spent so long meddling with other people's hearts, I had neglected my own.'
'So when I spoke, and you tried to silence me...'
'...it was because I could not bear to hear you say that you intended to marry Harriet. But I realized that, as a friend, I could not refuse to listen, and so I said you might speak. And then you said that you loved me.'
'Oh, Emma,' I said.
Words failed me, and so I abandoned them, and kissed her. It felt so right that I kissed her again. And then again.
Tuesday 10 August
Joh
n has arrived from London with his family, and Harriet has returned with them. When I called on Emma this afternoon, she had spoken to her friend, and after a little awkwardness on each side, they had congratulated each other with a warm and sincere affection.
Emma has invited Robert Martin to call on her, and I am sure he will be happy to accept the invitation.
Thursday 12 August
Robert Martin called at Hartfield today, and Emma was delighted to meet him. Harriet was as happy as it is possible for a woman to be, and Robert's happiness, I do believe, approached my own.
Harriet's father has been discovered at last. Mrs Goddard revealed his name to Mr Martin, and Harriet now knows she is the natural daughter of a tradesman. Robert Martin has applied to him, and he has given his consent to the marriage.
Autumn will be a season of weddings!
SEPTEMBER
Friday 10 September
Emma and I have decided to marry whilst Isabella and John are still here. It will allow Emma and me to go to the seaside for a fortnight after the wedding, and we will not have to worry about leaving Mr Woodhouse alone. As Harriet is marrying in a few weeks' time, and Churchill is marrying in November, we have settled on October. John and Isabella approve the plan; so do the Westons. But we still have to get Mr Woodhouse's consent.
Emma said, this evening: 'Papa, Mr Knightley and I have decided to marry in October. Then you can have a quiet fortnight with Isabella and John and all the dear little children whilst we are away.'
'October!' said he, looking stricken. 'But that is next month.'
'That is a good thing, Papa,' said Isabella, 'as it means you will have Mr Knightley's company all the sooner.'
'But we already have his company. He walks over from the Abbey to see us every day. You had much better not get married, Emma. It will be better if we stay as we are.'
He was so troubled that I despaired of ever seeing my wedding-day.
'I cannot marry if it will cause him so much pain,' said Emma, when he had retired for the night.
'He will accept it as soon as it is a settled thing,' said John. 'It is only this indecision that makes him anxious. Tell him the date; go ahead with your plan; and he will accustom himself to it. That is how Isabella and I managed.'
Mr. Knightley's Diary Page 20
