Mr. Knightley’s Diary

"I understand. I will say nothing to anyone. You may place your trust in me."

"Thank you."

"What do you intend to do now?" he asked me.

"Do? I will do what I have always done. Tend my estate, dine with my friends, play whist, look after the parish, and visit my brother."

"At least you will not have to see Emma, once she is married," said Routledge. "She will remove to Yorkshire, and not be reminding you of what you have lost."

"Small comfort," I said. "I do not know which is harder to bear, the thought of seeing Emma as the wife of another man, or the thought of never seeing her at all. I cannot imagine a life without her. What will it be like to go to Hartfield and find that she is not there? To dine with the Westons and see that her chair is empty? To go to church and see that she is not in her pew? To walk round Highbury with never a chance of meeting her?"

"You will adjust," he said.

"I suppose so," I said, but I did not believe it.

I was in low spirits when I returned to Brunswick Square. The boys wanted to play, but I put them off, saying: "Not now. I am tired."

I returned to my room and took up my quill. And now here I am, dreading another sleepless night and another empty day.

Monday 5 July

No letter again today. Perhaps, out of respect to Mrs. Churchill, they do not feel they can announce their engagement at once. But surely Emma would tell her sister?

Tuesday 6 July

The letter came, but what a letter! It was not from Emma, nor Miss Bates, but from Weston. My spirits sank when I saw it. It seemed that Emma’s letter must have been lost, and Weston was now writing of the news. How he had always longed for Emma as a daughter, and now he would have her!

But when I began to read the letter, I discovered it contained nothing but parish business - until I reached the end. I was so astonished that I cried out, and Isabella and John looked at me in surprise.

"Frank Churchill is engaged - to Jane Fairfax!" I said.

I thought at once of Emma. What would she be feeling? She must be desolate. She had been led on by him and deceived by him. I had suspected - I do not know quite what I had suspected, except that his behaviour had not rung true to me. And now the reason was revealed, because whilst he had been flirting with Emma, he had been paying court to Jane Fairfax.

I could scarcely believe it. I read on, and was more and more astounded. There had been a secret engagement between them, entered into in the autumn, at Weymouth, and hidden from everyone all the long months since.

And so he had been engaged when he had first come to Highbury! He had been engaged when he had danced with Emma. Engaged when he had flirted outrageously with her. Engaged when he had led everyone to believe he was on the point of making a proposal to her. Engaged…to Jane Fairfax!

"I cannot believe it," I said. "A secret betrothal…Jane Fairfax…I cannot believe she would be a party to such a thing."

"No wonder she has been ill," said Isabella.

"No wonder, indeed. To have to keep such a thing secret!" said John.

And to have to stand by and watch her betrothed pay attention to another woman, I thought. He is even worse than I painted him.

Whilst John and Isabella talked over the news, my thoughts returned to Emma. She must be heartbroken. She could not even turn to her usual confidante, Mrs. Weston, because Mrs. Weston was too closely involved.

"I must go to her!" I said with decision, correcting myself as I saw Isabella’s startled expression.

" - to Highbury."

John looked at me curiously.

"But we thought you were to stay for another week," said Isabella.

"There is business for me to attend to - parish business," I said, folding my letter. "Weston writes to me of it."

I told them how much I had enjoyed my visit, and resisted Isabella’s entreaties to stay. I took my leave of the children, thanked John and Isabella, and was on my way.

I rode out of London thinking of nothing but Emma, my poor, heartbroken Emma. I scarcely noticed the rain. My horse was fresh, and I made good time. As I approached Highbury, the wind dropped to a gentle breeze, the clouds cleared and the sun came out.

I arrived at Hartfield. Emma was not in the house, but Mr. Woodhouse was there with Perry. I gave him greetings from Isabella, then asked him: "Where is Emma?"

"She is walking in the garden."

I went outside to look for her, and I saw her walking along the path. Her shoulders were drooping and her head was down. My heart cried out in sympathy. For her to be so deceived! And by such a useless young man! He had come among us, simpering and smiling and flirting, whilst all the time his affections and his hand were engaged. The monstrosity of it! I had thought him a worthless fribble, but I had not thought badly enough of him. There could be no mistake; no misunderstanding. He had used her; deceived her.

She arranged her face as she looked up and saw me. Brave girl! She would not let me see how unhappy she was.