Charity Envieth Not by Barbara Cornthwaite

Author:Barbara Cornthwaite
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: CreateSpace
Published: 2009-12-07T05:00:00+00:00

14

Knightley awoke to the same thoughts he had closed his eyes against the night before. He lay in bed, staring at the canopy above him, while his thoughts wandered. How had Emma fared on the carriage ride home? Presumably, Elton had offered and she had refused, and therefore he ought to feel relief that this affair was over. Most probably, also, Emma now realized her own error—Elton was not attracted to Harriet, as Knightley had told her, and she was Elton’s object, as John had warned her. She must also now be aware of her own conceit. And he knew Emma: where she knew she was in the wrong, she would endeavour to change. Elton’s unsuccessful proposal would bring many good things to Emma—and to Elton as well, if he would condescend to profit by it. Really, he should be full of relief and thanks.

Instead, he was uneasy. Whatever the scene had been, it must have been supremely uncomfortable for Emma. Humility was not a virtue that sat easily with her. Good for her it might be to be caught out in her error, but the pain and embarrassment that must be hers awakened all his compassion. And then a new doubt assailed him: what if Elton had seen Emma’s displeasure and bided his time in making his proposals? Had he taken Emma’s hint? Or had he declared himself?

He threw off the bedclothes and went over to the window, looking out at a landscape that had its own snowy blanket. For the moment, the world was fresh and peaceful; nothing could be more appropriate for Christmas morning. Peace… He felt greatly in need of some peace of mind. The evening before had been full of turmoil, though now that he came to consider it, he was not entirely sure why. Of course Elton was an idiot and a nuisance, but that was nothing new. Neither were John’s hints about marriage. He hadn’t been vexed when he had arrived at Randalls, so what was it that had turned the evening sour?

The sound of the door being opened ended his musing, and he turned to greet his butler.

“Good morning, sir,” said Baxter. “Permit me to wish you a happy Christmas.”

“Thank you, Baxter, and you have my wishes for the same.”

“I thank you, sir. May I propose the grey coat for this morning? I fear the inclement weather will render the church extremely frigid.”

“Yes, I will have the grey. However, I will return here after church to change it for a lighter one before I go to Hartfield—there will be no need to be dressed warmly there.”

The church was very cold; poor Spencer could be seen shivering as he read out the lesson. Knightley suspected that his was not the only mind not fixed on the text, but he was distracted by more than just the temperature. His thoughts were at Hartfield, and he spent most of the service wondering what Emma’s state of mind might be, and whether John’s temper was restored.

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