Mr. Knightley’s Diary

"Ay, he did, but it cannot be as healthy as Hartfield, my dear. I do not like to think of the children playing in all that smoke."

"There is no smoke in Brunswick Square, Papa. Is there, Mr. Knightley?" she asked, appealing to me.

"Very little," I said. Then, seeing his worried face, I remarked: "When the children play, you know, they go to the park, where there is no smoke at all."

"You see, Papa, there is no need to worry about the children. What message would you like Mr. Knightley to give Isabella?" she asked. "You know she will want to hear from you."

"Tell her that Perry says she must not think of taking the children sea-bathing again," he said. "He says that she must wrap them up warmly. It is very chilly now that autumn is here. And she must not go out in the rain. Perry has known many people to take ill and die from going out in the rain."

As he talked, I watched Emma and wondered what is to become of her. She is of an age to be married, but she spends her time with people who are so much older than she, that she is never likely to meet a husband. And if she does, I do not know if she will wish to marry. She is too comfortable where she is. Her father is easy to please and she can do as she likes with the household. A husband will have his own views, and Emma is not likely to take to that way of living.

But if she does not marry, what then?

Thursday 24 September

I set out for London this afternoon. The autumn day was drawing in and I did not arrive at Brunswick Square until after dark.

The house was as neat as always, a credit to Isabella. John could not have found a better wife if he had searched the length and breadth of England. With her domestic character and her gentle, quiet manners, she must be one of the few women in the country whose amiable and affectionate disposition would allow her to tolerate his short temper.

As I was shown into the drawing-room I was greeted by a perfect domestic scene. Isabella and John were sitting there, surrounded by their five children. The baby was sitting on Isabella’s knee, whilst Bella and George were playing on the hearthrug. Henry and John were more active, as befit their advanced years, and as soon as they saw me they ran up to me with squeals of "Uncle George!" and then they clamoured to be thrown into the air. I obliged, sending them both up to the ceiling, before setting them back on their feet.

"Again! Again!" said Henry.

"You are too heavy! You must be five years old by now..." I teased him.

"Six!" he cried in delight.

"Then it is no wonder you are so big."

He tugged at the tails of my coat and I relented. "Very well, one more time then," I said.

Nothing would do but that I should treat little John in the same way before I could sit down.

"Enough," said my brother John, as they clamoured for more. "Give Uncle George some peace. He has ridden all the way from Surrey."

"Here," said Isabella, giving them some wooden blocks to play with.

The boys sat down on the hearthrug and occupied themselves by building a tower.

"How was your journey?" Isabella asked, as she moved the baby to her other knee.

"Better than usual," I told her. "At least, this time, the weather was dry."

"I wish you would not ride," she said. "It is too far. You should use your carriage."

"Too far?" said John. "It is only sixteen miles. No more than a three-hour journey."

"I should not like to ride so far on horseback," said Isabella.

"Then it is a good thing I was the one who undertook the journey, and not you," I remarked.

She gave the baby to John and took Bella on her knee, for Bella had started to cough.

"How is Bella’s throat?" I asked.

"Better than it was. I am using an embrocation of Mr. Wingfield’s devising, and it seems to be strengthening her. But tell me, how is my sister? She is not too lonely, I hope?" asked Isabella.

"No, not yet. Miss Taylor is still at Hartfield. She is not Mrs. Weston yet."

"Poor Emma," said Isabella. "And poor Papa. They will be very lonely without her. She has been with them for such a long time. It is sixteen years since she arrived. A sad business."

"A sad business!" cried John. "Not for Miss Taylor! To go from being a governess companion, to being a wife? It is an excellent business, and a very good match for her. As a companion she was a dependent, no matter how much she was loved, but as Mrs. Weston, she will be a woman with a home of her own. I am very glad to have her marry. A more sensible and respectable match I have yet to see."

"But it is a sad business for Emma," said Isabella.

"It will do her good to have some time to herself," said John.

"It will give her a chance to finish all the things she has been meaning to finish for the last five years," I said.

"For shame!" cried Isabella.

"You have always been hard on Emma," said John.