Mr. Knightley’s Diary

I meant to leave, but I could not bring myself to do so. Not without one last glimpse of Emma, and so I continued to talk to Miss Smith.

"Did you enjoy our trip to Box Hill?" I asked her.

"Oh, yes, very much," she said.

"I am glad," I said warmly, and so I was: I was glad that at least one person had enjoyed it.

"I was sorry you ate out of doors," said Mr. Woodhouse anxiously. "Perry did not think it at all wise. I hope you may not take cold."

She assured him she was quite well.

"You were very ill over the winter," he said to her.

"You were indeed," I said kindly, remembering that she had had other ills, besides a cold, to bear.

"It was nothing," she whispered.

I began to think there was more to her colourings than goodwill towards me and my suit, and I wondered if she might have caught another cold after all, for not only did she seem to colour a great deal, but also to whisper.

"I hope your throat is not sore?" I asked her.

"No, thank you," she said, and blushed again.

The time passed slowly, but pass it did, and at last Emma returned. I rose as soon as she came in, saying I was going to London, and asking if she had any message to send to her sister. She looked surprised, but I said I had been planning the expedition for some time.

I waited for a word from her, something to give me hope to remain, but there was nothing.

I was a fool to expect it. To think that Emma, with all her advantages of birth and beauty, with a good heart and superior understanding, would sacrifice the attentions of a man who flatters her for the hand of a man who scolds her! If I had ever had a chance of winning her away from Churchill, I had lost it on Box Hill.

She said she had no particular message, and I was about to leave when her father began asking her about her morning call. To my surprise, I learnt that she had been calling on the Bateses, which is why she had been from home.

I am sure she did not go to apologize - it would have been beyond the desire of either party, for Miss Bates would have been as embarrassed as Emma - but this attention would be recognized as an apology, and I felt my heart expand. So Emma had not lost her better nature!

My face must have showed my thoughts, for she smiled at me, a little shyly, and on an impulse I took her hand. I wanted to do more. I wanted to kiss it. I lifted it, scarcely knowing what I was doing, and I was about to press it to my lips when I recollected that I had no right to do such a thing, no matter how much I might want to.

I dropped her hand, then making her a bow, I bade her and her father farewell. I said goodbye to Harriet, and set out for London.

It was a long and dismal journey, filled with gloomy thoughts, but once I reached Brunswick Square, I endeavoured to put my troubles out of my mind.

John and Isabella were surprised to see me, but I gave some pretext relating to business and they accepted it, welcoming me into their home.

I soon saw that the boys had grown since they were with us in the spring. Henry was turning into a fine boy, and John was not far behind. Bella had grown a very little, except in mischief, and George was still content to toddle behind her. The baby was showing an interest in everything, and I sat down with her on my knee.

Henry asked me about Harriet and the Gypsies, a tale which made Isabella shudder, and John asked me what had been done to make sure the roads were safe. This led to parish business, and we talked of Highbury and Hartfield until it was time to go to bed.

I went upstairs but I could not sleep. I took up my newspaper, but I could not pay attention to it. I was not interested in the world outside, I was interested in my own world, and at the heart of that world was Emma. Emma with her good heart, Emma with her dear face. Emma. My Emma.

Monday 28 June

For the last two days I have been in torment. I have not been like myself. I have been short-tempered and out of spirits. I think I was wrong to come here. Isabella has always reminded me too much of Emma.

And then there are the children. I thought: If I had known my own feelings last year, and spoken to Emma before she had met Frank Churchill, then she would already be my wife. I could, this very morning, be playing with my son, just as John is playing with his.

Tuesday 29 June

me.

I determined to rouse myself and I attended to business, but this evening, a restless spirit was on As I sat in the drawing-room, with John reading his newspaper, Isabella sewing, and the children playing around us, I was given a picture of domestic felicity which set my heart aching. I wanted this for myself. I wanted it with Emma. If I had spoken - if I had not scolded her - if I had learnt my feelings sooner - if I had flattered her - if I had behaved as a lover and not a friend - if I had done all of the things I did not do, and none of the things I did, then perhaps I could have looked forward to the same kind of happiness.

July

Thursday 1 July