Emma in Love by Emma Tennant Read Free Book Online Page B

was quite the handsomest man she had ever seen.

Chapter 8
    It is often to be observed in those whose nature and circumstances produce a character accustomed to control and oversee the lives of others, that the unexpected is less easy to digest and understand than it is for those who have the habit of acquiescence and obedience to the demands of others. A scenario, whether domestic or abroad, which appears quite different from the one foreseen, may cause discomfiture, even rage: and it is probable that the closer to home the surprise turns out to be, the greater the need to restore order on the part of the incumbent dictator of the daily round.
    So Emma, who had reflected to her own satisfaction, all the way back from Highbury to Donwell Abbey, thatshe had done right in choosing the company of Jane Fairfax at her dinner over that of Captain Brocklehurst (for it really was as simple as that), received an unpleasant jolt on turning into the Abbey gates and going up the drive at a complacent trot. She had known that Mr. Knightley would praise her for extending an invitation to Miss Bates and her mother, whether the niece could come or no: even that the presence of Jane Fairfax was likely to be insisted on, as a consequence of this selfless conduct on her part. Emma, though she resented Mr. Knightley’s having still the ability to reduce her to tears with his censure, forgot this each time she anticipated the glow of his praise. Today, however, matters were to unfurl themselves in quite another fashion.
    On the sweep before the doors of Donwell Abbey stood two people. By their stance, which was markedly not one of friendship – it could, even, as Emma discerned as she alighted from the chaise, be seen as hostile – it was easily concluded that either or both would rather be anywhere in the world than in this particular spot. Their backs were as nearly turned to each other as it was possible to be without exciting the alarm of a passing servant or arriving guest.
    Across the sweep, and dabbling delightedly with their toes in a small pool, administered by a fountain and filled with water lilies, were three girls of about eight totwelve years old. Their cries of innocent happiness contrasted strongly with the sullen resentment expressed by the silent figures by the doors to the Abbey.
    As Emma stood for a moment aghast – for was not this couple, of all possible conjunctions the least anticipated, here – John Knightley and Jane Fairfax, no less – a delightful laugh, not familiar to her in any way, sounded from the lime walk on the far side of the garden. From under the canopy of the trees came Mr. Knightley; and accompanying him – taking his arm, letting it loose and taking it again, none of which the squire of Donwell seemed at all to show objection to – walked a young woman in sprigged muslin, her hair piled up on her head, and with a stray ringlet or two escaping, in the very latest French mode; and with this costly arrangement of chignon and fringe Emma was indeed familiar.
    As the new and unforeseen combination of persons strolled towards her, James appeared on the sweep in order to lead the horse away to the stables. Emma stood exposed before the two pairs, unknown quantities as indeed they were. She had the unpleasant sensation of having perhaps died and returned as a phantom, to find another life altogether in progress in her home; or at the very least she felt she had been gone longer and further than a brief visit to Miss Bates in Highbury. The tale of the gratitude of the two worthy ladies at a hindquarterof pork vanished from her lips; mistress of Donwell Abbey she might be, but she was rendered as silent as the pair by the Abbey doors at so great a surprise on her return. For the first time in her life, whether as Emma Woodhouse or Mrs. Knightley, she could think of nothing whatever to say.
    Mr. Knightley’s growing proximity returned everything to the habitual: he was not taken