by Karen M Cox
He left, and I sat down next to her. “Are you okay? Bob said you and the baby were fine, but you look pale. Did you call the doctor?”
“No, I’m fine. I guess he really didn’t tell you.” She gave me a wan smile. “I’m surprised he didn’t blurt it out. I guess I should have more faith in him.”
“It must be about Frank, but given that Bob says he’s fine, I can’t imagine what it could be.”
“Yes, it is Frank. He called us this morning.”
“Well, that in itself is a surprise. Frank is no morning person, from what I can tell.”
“Even more so, as where he is right now, he’s three hours behind us—in Las Vegas.”
I started to make a joke about debauchery in Las Vegas, but Nina was looking at me with such anxiety, I held my tongue.
“Frank called us this morning to tell us that he went to Las Vegas to—Emma, he got married!”
“Frank eloped?”
“Yes, and it’s even more bizarre than any of us could imagine.”
I could imagine some pretty bizarre stuff: a truck stop waitress, a show girl, maybe even a transvestite.
Nina covered my hand, squeezed it gently. “He ran off with Jane Fairfax!”
I bolted to my feet. “He did what?” I began to pace back and forth, the refrain of “Not again! Not again!” racing through my mind as I thought of poor Mary Jo. “You’re kidding!”
“I wish I were, honey. I know you’re shocked. Bob and I certainly were.”
“But Jane is engaged…to Mike Dixon! And has been for several months.”
“Frank confessed he and Jane had an affair last fall when they were both in New York, right about the time Mike left for Ireland. They kept it secret from everyone—for obvious reasons, I guess. Neither their friends nor their families had any idea at all. Frank told Bob that the affair was the real reason she came home last winter. She wanted some perspective, to help her decide what to do—and whether or not she wanted to break it off with Mike.”
“The piano,” I whispered. “A secret admirer.” Then louder, “So that’s why he appeared so suddenly in Highbury after putting off his visit for so long.”
“Emma,” Nina admonished me.
“It wasn’t to see his father and stepmother but to pursue his illicit love affair. What a piece of work!”
“We were surprised, of course, and a little disappointed in her—that she didn’t break off her engagement beforehand. That would have been more proper.”
“Huh, well, yeah, you’re right about that.”
“But Jane is a lovely girl, and we like her, so his choice of wife isn’t really the problem. We were mostly concerned about who else might be hurt by this turn of events.”
“What?” My mind was on Mary Jo, so I was confused, wondering if Nina had guessed Mary Jo’s feelings. Then I saw the compassion, the pain in Nina’s eyes. I knelt at her feet. “Oh, Nina! Please don’t fret! I know you might have thought perhaps Frank and I had something going. But I promise you, even though we went out a time or two, I never thought it would go anywhere.”
“Really, Emma?”
“Honest. When he first came back, well, I was a little interested, I guess. He’s a cutie pie. And there’s not too much to choose from around here.”
Nina laughed. “Not for you anyway.”
“But that was only at first. Rest assured, Frank and I are friends, nothing more.”
“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. Bob will be too. I must confess, we secretly entertained the idea that you all might work something out. It would have been lovely to have two people so important to both of us, always in our lives, part of our family.”
“I am just fine, so don’t give my feelings another thought.” I stood up and started pacing again. “But really, Nina, there’s no excuse for his behavior. Coming here after avoiding you all for so long and then flirting with me in front of everybody the way he did. Sure, I didn’t read too much into it, but I might have. He didn’t know if he was leading me on or not. Shameful, really!” I stopped pacing, my eyes widening in horrific realization. “And Jane! To have to sit around here and watch him behave that way toward another woman after they had that affair! And have nowhere to go—stuck here playing Guinevere…and I even went to the theater with him to see it! Went out with him, right in front of her.” I covered my eyes. “No wonder she wouldn’t even see me before she left. I can’t blame her!”
“Frank told Bob that Jane had broken it off with him. He came here to find her because he wanted another chance. It’s really quite romantic, when you think about it.”
I turned and stared at my aunt, agape. “Romantic? Nina, he treated her without any respect. Flaunted another woman in front of her to try and make her jealous. He used me to do that!” That thought rankled more than any other. “Made her miserable to the point she left her family and went back to New York alone!”
“He didn’t know she’d gone back. He told his father he didn’t know, and when he found out—”
“How?”
“Pardon?”
“How did he find out?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A letter or something. A call maybe? Anyway, sometime after his grandmother’s funeral, he went after Jane. He told her he loved her and asked her to marry him straight away. They left for Vegas the next day.”
My head stopped spinning, so I sat down. “Of all the crazy, stupid stunts. Married in Vegas. Probably by an Elvis impersonator. Strip joints everywhere around. Without her family or his or any of their friends. Just crazy.”
“He seemed so contrite about what had happened. He wanted to make it right—wanted to marry her—as soon as possible. I felt a bit sorry for him, Emma. He’s suffered the past few months. That much was obvious to Bob.”
“He’s suffered? What about her? She’s the one I feel sorry for. Everything seems to be just fine for him now. What did his mom say?”
“She seems okay with it. She’s taken a vacation. I guess her mother’s death took quite a toll on her, and Bob says she’s kind of an emotional person. Frank said his mother didn’t seem to mind one way or another.”
“So, no one knew about the affair back in New York? Do you think poor Mike Dixon had a clue?”
“None, as far as I know. And for what it’s worth, the gossip is that he’s taken up with an Irish girl starring in the movie he’s directing now.”
“Theater types.” I rolled my eyes. “Drama, drama, drama. Well, I guess we’ll all get used to it eventually. I still say they should have been upfront with everyone and had a decent length of engagement and a discreet wedding either here or in Alabama. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but even Tim Elton and Edie Bitti did a better job of this engagement business. And when I think back on things I said to Frank, to Jane—me and my big mouth! But then again, how was I supposed to know they were harboring this big secret?”
“I’ve thought back on the things I said myself, wondering if I’ve said anything that would hurt them, but I can’t think of anything I said to either of them that both Frank and Jane might not have wanted to hear.”
“Lucky you. Your only blunder was telling me that George had a thing for her. I’ve stuck my foot in it countless times—with both of them.”
Bob peeked in the door, and Nina beckoned him forward, whispering to me, “Put him at ease, honey. He’s been so worried about you.”
I turned, pasted on a bright smile, shook Bob’s hand and then embraced him. “Congratulations! Jane will be a lovely daughter-in-law. Frank is a lucky, lucky man!” The jerk. Of course, I left that last remark in my head, and after many assurances of my best wishes while Bob drove me home, I flopped down on the couch in my quiet, peaceful living room.
How on earth was I going to break this news to Mary Jo!
Breaking the news ended up being easier than I ever anticipated. Thinking it might be best to tell Mary Jo when others weren’t around, I invited her for lunch on Saturday, and fretted for the rest of the
week how I might broach the subject. Poor Mary Jo had been the innocent victim of my matchmaking schemes twice now, and it brought to mind how George had once told me, “Emma, everything you do does not help Mary Jo, just because you wish it would.” True, I hadn’t planted the idea of Frank Weston myself; Mary Jo came to her feelings about him all on her own, but I had encouraged her, and what a disastrous result! I should have known better, and now that I really thought it through, Frank and Mary Jo were almost certainly a match made in hell.
My own, unintentional role in the whole debacle made me angry, mostly at Frank, but also at myself. At least I could let go of my guilt about Jane. Miss Fairfax had her happily-ever-after—or at least a happy-for-now. Jane’s behavior before she went back to New York made perfect sense. She saw me as the other woman being thrown in her face. My offer to help pack appeared to be gloating, my gifts of muffins and herbal tea like poison. But there was nothing I could do about the past. I could only move forward, and moving forward meant helping Mary Jo.
It struck me as ironic that I was playing the same part that Nina had played with me earlier in the week. If only this conversation would have the same outcome! I was heartsick on Mary Jo’s behalf.
The doorbell rang, and I called to Mrs. Davies, “I’ll get it.”
I opened the door to Mary Jo’s smiling face. “Hi, Emma!”
“Hi.”
“It doesn’t seem like I’ve been out here in forever. How’s your dad doing?”
“He’s fine. We can go see him in a minute, but let’s just have a seat first. I have some news.”
“News?” Mary Jo’s brow wrinkled. “Oh! I guess you mean the news about Jane Fairfax. Don’t that just beat all? Her and Frank, I mean. In love all this time, and no one knew! Well, you probably did. You read people so well.”
This is bizarre! She doesn’t seem the least bit upset. I spoke slowly, as if to let the words sink in. “Jane Fairfax and Frank Weston ran off to Vegas.”
Mary Jo nodded. “Crazy, huh? I’m starving. What’s for lunch?”
“And got married.”
“I know. Bob came in the office yesterday and told me the whole story. He said it was kind of a secret, but I could talk to you about it because you already knew. Did you know about them dating before they came here to Highbury?”
“I think ‘dating’ is quite the euphemism for it. Of course, I didn’t know! I’m your friend! If I had known, I would have warned you.”
“Warned me? Whatever for?”
“I never would have encouraged you if I knew Frank was in love with someone else.”
“Why would I care about…? Oh! You thought I was interested in Frank Weston?”
“Aren’t you? I mean, weren’t you?”
Mary Jo laughed. “No way! I’ve never been interested in him. Not one bit. The man I was talking about, well you said I shouldn’t tell you who he is, but you talked like you knew. He’s much more than Frank Weston ever thought about being. So much more—gentlemanly, perfect, educated, handsome…” She sighed, a dreamy sound that was eerie in its familiarity and flashed me back to adolescence in a terrifying moment of clarity. I swallowed loudly around the lump in my throat.
“Mary Jo, are you talking about”—I swallowed again—“George Knightley?”
“Of course.” My face must have shown my horror, because Mary Jo continued in uncertain tones. “At first I thought Mr. Knightley would never consider me as dating material. He’s my boss after all, and I know what you said about dating men in the office. But then you said I had such good taste, and I know how close he is to your family, so I thought that meant you thought it possible. Even probable.”
“But you said the man came to your rescue. Frank was the one who helped you!”
“When?”
“At the graduation brunch, when that guy ran you off the road on the way to the country club.”
“Oooh! I see what you were thinking, but no, I meant when Mr. Knightley—I mean George, I’m supposed to call him George outside the office—when George asked me to dance after Tim embarrassed me at the Derby party. That was when I realized what a true gentleman he is. That was when I fell for him.”
“Oh, dear Lord, what is to be done about this?”
“Done about it? Something has to be done about it? I don’t get it. If I liked Frank, it was okay, but if I like George, it’s not?”
I tried to keep my voice calm. “It’s just that you and George are so different…in—in personality. And he’s your boss. And—”
“But you said I had wonderful taste. You said that stranger things had happened. Oh dear, I hope people won’t try to keep us apart! If George doesn’t mind the differences in our ages, in our backgrounds, or that he’s my boss, then why should anyone else?”
Deep breaths, Emma! I purposefully steadied my voice. “Do you think George…feels the way you do?” I cleared my throat to keep my voice from squeaking. “Returns your feelings? Has he told you so?”
“Not in those exact words, but yes, in little ways, I do think he has let me know that he likes me. And he took the time to show me all around Donwell, as if he hoped…” Mary Jo blushed. “You know, maybe it might be my home too, someday.”
My heart stopped. And the truth, the entire delirious, heart-wrenching, maddening, soul-weakening truth buried me in a landslide of sadness and loss. Mary Jo couldn’t marry George and live at Donwell! That was simply impossible, because it was now painfully obvious that the only woman who should marry George Bryan Knightley was…Emma Katherine Woodhouse!
I listened as Mary Jo told me how George had been kinder to her recently. He was more interested in what she thought about the inner workings of the office and had taken her suggestions. He’d even discussed a case with her on the phone and trusted her to call a client and get information he needed, not just sit there and direct calls to the attorneys and paralegals. The last time he was in town, he’d brought her coffee, just the way she liked it, for no reason at all!
As I thought back over the last couple of months, I realized I had also noticed George’s softening opinions toward Mary Jo. Stupid me! I had even rejoiced in them as evidence of his broadening horizons, being more accepting of my friend. After all, he had commented on the pleasant conversation he shared with Mary Jo at the Derby party.
“That night was the first time I’d ever thought of Mr. Knightley, you know, in that way, but I would never have held out hope for him—never would have thought it possible—except for you. I remember at your graduation party, you said to let his actions guide my feelings, and I have taken your advice. I’ve watched and waited and hoped, and now, I think he might feel the same way about me that I do about him.”
I know not how I got through lunch. It was torture to listen to Mary Jo talk incessantly about George, as if now that the topic was opened, the floodgates had burst. After the meal, Mary Jo suggested we take a walk around Hartfield Estates “like we used to,” but I put her off, saying the bulldozers had destroyed our favorite path in order to put in a clubhouse for the subdivision. It was partly true. Another route could have been found, but I wanted out, away from everyone, but especially away from Mary Jo.
As she left, Mary Jo turned to me and asked in all earnestness, eyes wide and uncertain, “Do you really, honestly think I have a chance with him?”
I paused, took in her pleading expression, and felt my heart beating in my throat. This was the day for terrifying epiphanies, and the next one came rolling on in. I knew nothing about anyone, not really, because you never know someone until…well, you know them. I’d been wrong so many times—about Tim, about Frank and Jane, about Mary Jo—why would I know anything about George’s heart and mind? He gave out nuggets of his thoughts and feelings like the chocolates he passed out at Valentine’s Day (and just as infrequently). I’d unwittingly played a role in his reluctance to share with me, I knew that. With my schemes and opinions, and my arrogant self-assuredness that I knew what was best, I had effectively shut him out.
He didn’t share personal thoughts with me because there was no point. If we disagreed, I ignored him or stomped all over his advice, and then did what I wanted anyway.
Mary Jo’s hopeful face brought me back to the present. How could I, not knowing George’s true heart, treat Mary Jo with the respect due a friend and still be truthful? How could I be a friend and answer? Perhaps the way George would, if he were in this position? What was a truth I could tell Mary Jo, something I knew, for a fact, about George Knightley?
“Well,” I began, “I don’t know the answer to your question, not really.”
“Oh.” Mary Jo’s shoulders slumped and a sigh escaped her.
“But I’ve known George Knightley all my life, and one thing I know for sure is that he is the last man in the world who would intentionally lead a woman to believe he cared for her more than he really does.”
“Oh!” Mary Jo’s smile bloomed. “Oh, well then.” She threw her arms around me in an embrace I did not return, but the lack of enthusiasm didn’t dampen Mary Jo’s happiness one iota. “Thank you, Emma! Thank you for lunch, and thank you for everything!”
Mrs. Davies came up behind me as I watched Mary Jo’s car drive away.
“You want I should clean up them dishes, Miss Emma?”
“What? Oh, yes please. Clean them up, toss them out, I don’t care.”
Mrs. Davies frowned at me. “You okay, child? You’re all flushed.”
“I’m fine.” Panic stole over me as I realized I was about to lose it all in front of the housekeeper. “I—I—I’m taking the dog for a walk.”
“In this heat? Why don’t you wait until evening, when it cools off some?”
I shut the door and hurried to the back to retrieve the leash. “Will you tell Daddy?” I called back.
“Sure, honey, but…”
“Where is it? Where is it?” I opened two kitchen drawers and checked the mud room hooks for Maude’s leash. “Screw it! We’ll go without the stupid thing.” I slammed a drawer shut. “Maude! Come here, girl! How about a walk?” Paws clattered over the floor as Maude raced toward me, joyful barks punching through the air. I buried my face in her fur, starting to feel the tears behind my eyes. Emma Katherine Woodhouse never cried, never! Except for today.
