Mr. Knightley’s Diary

I seem to meet them everywhere I go. The whole of Highbury is giving parties for them. Mrs. Elton can do nothing but talk of her sister and her sister’s barouche-landau, and if I hear another comment about Mr. Suckling and Maple Grove, I am liable to say something I shall regret.

Thursday 8 April

It was a relief to throw myself into Abbey business today and forget about my neighbours.

Friday 9 April

It is a good thing I am in a better temper today! Emma is arranging a dinner party for the Eltons, and of course I must go, and be polite to Mrs. Elton. I admire the way Emma is bearing it all. I am sure she does not wish to see them, but she is behaving as though nothing unfortunate happened between her and Mr. Elton. I am sure in my own mind that he proposed, or came as close to it as makes no difference. What else would have made him leave Highbury so suddenly after Christmas, if he had not made a declaration and been rejected? So, on the 13th, I must brace myself to hear all about Mr. Suckling and Maple Grove.

Saturday 10 April

An unlucky chance has made my brother choose the day of the party for his visit to Hartfield. He is not fond of company at the best of times, and to have to endure it without his wife present, and with a bridal couple who must be made much of, will be a sore trial to him. I can only hope he will curb his temper, and not upset Mr. Woodhouse.

Emma is worried because it will put her numbers out, and her father’s nerves are on edge because it makes the party bigger than he cares for.

The one good thing is that Harriet has cried off. She does not want to see Elton, I suppose, after Emma put it into her head to think of him.

How the matter of Harriet will resolve itself I do not know.

Monday 12 April

Emma’s problems have been solved in an unexpected way. Weston has been summoned to town, and cannot attend the dinner, though he means to call in afterwards, when he returns, so Emma’s numbers are now perfect.

All is now settled. John arrives tomorrow. He will be calling here first, and then going on to Hartfield, where he will leave the boys.

Tuesday 13 April

My two eldest nephews are growing apace. They are bright, lively boys, and they chased each other round the garden as John and I took a walk. He told me that Isabella and the other three children were well, and that his business is prospering. I took him to see the new path, and he approved of what I had done.

He did not stay long, but soon went on to Hartfield, with the boys being quieter for their run around. They were much more subdued when they arrived at Hartfield than they had been for most of the journey, he told me when I saw him again at Hartfield just before dinner, and they had not put too great a strain on their grandfather’s nerves.

Mr. Woodhouse was as courteous as ever, making the rounds of his guests and paying particular attention to Mrs. Elton, which pleased her greatly. He was very conscious of what was due to her as a bride.

John was talking to Miss Fairfax. He feels, as I do, that her lot is a hard one. To be taken away from everyone she knows and loves, and thrust into another family - one which might be disgreeable, with spoilt children and doting parents - is not an enviable fate.

I have asked amongst my acquaintance and tried to find her a position but I have not had any success. If I could know she was going into a well-regulated household, where her talents would be appreciated, I would be much happier.

My brother was very courteous to her, and as he had passed her on a walk this morning, he asked if she had arrived home before the rain. Fortunately she had, but Mrs. Elton, officious as ever, declared that Miss Fairfax must not walk to the post office any more; Mrs. Elton would have her servant collect Jane’s post.

I admired Miss Fairfax for her tact in dealing with Mrs. Elton. She did not give any direct reply, but instead skilfully turned the conversation towards the post office’s efficiency, and from thence to handwriting, which was a subject much more to her taste, for it meant Mrs. Elton could no longer irritate her.

"Isabella and Emma both write beautifully," said Mr. Woodhouse; "and always did. And so does poor Mrs. Weston," he added, with half a sigh and half a smile at her.

I wonder when he will stop calling her "poor Mrs. Weston"!

"Mr. Frank Churchill writes one of the best gentlemen’s hands I ever saw," said Emma, distracting her father’s thoughts from the sad fate of the woman who sat there, happy and contented, with her husband and her friends about her.

I would have applauded, yet I do not like this habit she has grown into, of forever praising Frank Churchill. Why no one else can see that he is a wastrel with no sense of duty I do not know. I seem to be the only person who is not blind to his faults, and he has many of them.