Emma & Knightley by Rachel Billington

Author:Rachel Billington
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2013-08-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

It was after midday by the time James drew up the carriage in front of Abbey-Mill Farm. It was a flat, grey day and the whole area, river, garden, apple trees, was no longer bathed in the golden glow that Emma had admired on her last visit. She could not help thinking that its low-lying position must make the house and its surroundings very damp in the winter. She said as much to Miss Bates as they descended and made their way to the garden path but Miss Bates could not agree, having always found Abbey-Mill one of the driest, cosiest places she had ever been in. Mr Martin called it paradise in his friendly way and she had never been one to disagree.

At this point, she saw Emma’s frown and, misreading its cause, started on a eulogy of Hartfield which she was surprised to find only deepened Emma’s frown. Luckily for her peace of mind, the path was not long and the door was already open before they reached the end of it. There stood the same cheerful maid who Emma remembered from her last visit, with the message that her mistresses awaited them in the parlour. Emma saw the change from the mistresses welcoming them in person on the doorstep, and allowed her cloak to be removed with an irritable shrug, before she schooled herself into better humour.

Indeed they had not reached the parlour before a great many Martin ladies had come to greet her, only Harriet lingering behind a little.

Congratulations on the baby – the reason for her visit – were dispensed with real goodwill. The baby himself was then produced – no wet-nurse for him – and, although his face was mostly hid by a vast white cap and he was disinclined to wake beyond a wide-mouthed, lolling yawn, Emma was able to pronounce him a fine, large child who did both his parents justice. If Miss Bates could not restrain a few sad looks, everybody understood the reason, forgave her easily and, out of consideration for her feelings – she who had never yet seen her only living relation – took away young Robert to another room.

‘Now I know Mrs Knightley likes chocolate,’ said old Mrs Martin kindly, ‘but I must admit that we usually take something a little more substantial at this time of day. Harriet tells me it is not the proper thing to do but Robert has been used to a plate of cold meat or suchlike – it is hungry work looking after a farm.’

Emma bowed her head graciously, Miss Bates nodded and smiled again and Harriet, well, Harriet was so pleased with her life, so pretty and cheerful and felt her good fortune so obviously, that nothing could displease her and, it must be said, it would be an uncharitable person who could be displeased by her.

Emma sighed; she could not be that person. Harriet in the flesh was not the threat she had become in the veiled regions of her imagination.

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