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"No, Mrs. Knightley. And until she is in being I will handle such matters myself.
Emma could have kicked George Knightley under the card table. But she was too well bred and gently reared for such an action.
The impertinence of such a high handed statement, and to say it in front of her.
It was bad enough that he had contradicted her before the ill mannered Mrs. Elton, who so often sought ways to place herself in society above Emma.
But to continue the insult thus?
It would not be born.
Emma knew, she just knew, that he was attempting to goad her into action. Trying to force her hand so that she might allow him to speak to her father of their understanding sooner rather than later.
But how could she give her dear papa such a shock when even now he spent his days in such deep concern for Mrs. Weston's condition?
Once the Westons celebrated the birth of their child she would happily allow Mr. Knightley to ask for her hand.
She was sure that they could, between the two of them, manage a way to sooth her father's nerves.
But certainly not if she was moved to murder the man she loved before they were even properly engaged.
And the audacity of Mrs. Elton. To have 'exhausted Hartfield.'
Truly is was a miracle that Emma Woodhouse did not forcefully connect her daintily slippered foot into Mr. Knightley's lower leg.
Insults and slights from Mrs. Elton she was used to, having Mr. Knightley behave as an impartial observer to these she could bear (for the sake of their continued secrecy) but to have him take up her side against Emma...
Though her initial reaction was anger Emma could admit to hurt as well.
She loved George Knightley. And while she knew he loved her, she had a life time of scoldings and corrections from him which ate at her in her more vulnerable moments.
Even now she sat across from the venerable Jane Fairfax. She, who Mr. Knightley has so often compared Emma to and found the latter wanting.
And suddenly Emma found she could no longer concentrate on the cards in her hand, much less those on the table.
She spent enough time at the game to avoid the appearance that her discomfiture had been caused by Mr. Knightley and Mrs. Elton's plans then begged pardon for some air.
If Mr. Knightley tried to catch her eye as she departed for the garden then she did her best to avoid it.
Stepping outside into the fresh air she paused for a moment to collect herself.
Minutes passed and Emma felt she could once again go back into the gathering as a dignified young gentlewoman.
But as she turned to go she was stopped by the site of her betrothed walking toward her.
"Emma, dear one, are you unwell?" Mr. Knightley must have given some excuse because he joined her in the garden and was beside her in swift strides.
With a gentle hand at her elbow he guided her further back into the gardens, away from the view afforded by the house.
"I am well Mr. Knightley, I just needed a moment." She avoided his eyes, knowing that she stood no chance of maintaining her façade of indifference if she were to meet them.
But he brought a gentle had to her chin so that he might turn her face up to his, before sliding it forward to cup her jaw.
"Beloved, please, do not hide what you feel from me. Let me see you Emma, no need for the perfect Miss Woodhouse when it is just you and I." His blue eyes desperately searched her face. "If there is something within my power to sooth your distress and make you happy then please consider it already done."
Emma, feeling silly for allowing her feelings to rule her, did not want to admit that Mrs. Elton had caused her grief, nor that Mr. Knightley himself had added to it.
But she also could not bring herself to lie, even by omission, to the man she so loved.
"While I am inured to Mrs. Elton's slights and subtle, sometimes less so, attacks upon my person and position, I found myself caught off guard by the combination of it with your own indifference."
He would not like her answer, and she knew he would immediately blame himself for upsetting her, but she pressed on. "I... understand that you impartiality is important to keeping our engagement secret at this time, but I wonder now that if I had a character less like my own and more like the infallible Jane Fairfax if it might be easier to bear. For then you would at least have less opportunity to correct me in company."
She watched as Mr. Knightley's face grew sorrowful.
Oh, how she regretted being unable to restrain her foolish heart. Had she merely born up her suffering under Mrs. Elton's strictures then surely she would not have caused her beloved Mr. Knightley such pain as well!
"Emma, my sweetest, loveliest girl. Surely you know that if you were anyone but yourself I would not love you as I do. I do not want Jane Fairfax, as esteemable as she may be. I love Emma Woodhouse, clever, caring, wonderful woman that you are."
As he spoke he pressed his forehead lightly to hers, cradling her face in his hands and crowding his body close as if trying to embrace her with his mere presence.
"And as for Mrs. Elton, I apologise for teasing you. Especially if it came at the cost of appearing to correct you for her sake." Peering into her eyes he used his thumbs to lightly brush over the apples of her cheeks.
Emma, who was still unused to such closeness with a man, felt dizzy at his proximity. He smelled of sandalwood and leather and she could feel the warmth of him radiating through his clothing and the space between them.
It made her thoughts scatter and her stomach tighten.
"I eagerly await the day you become Mrs. Knightley, but until then I must settle for having you help me plan an excursion at Donwell Abbey whilst keeping your involvement a secret."
Emma gave him a weak grin.
"You simply do not want to plan it yourself." She observed.
"What an infamous accusation! You cut me to the quick Miss Woodhouse." He gave her one of his charming smiles and stepping back he allowed his hands to trace lightly down her arms where the clasped and held her own.
"If you truly wish to put Mrs. Elton into her place then why not publicly claim your own? Perhaps you would consider allowing me to speak with your father?" He teased.
Emma narrowed her eyes are him.
"George Knightley, I knew this was an attempt to sway my mind."
He gave a sharp inhale and she could see his eyes brighten, though she did not know if it was at the use of his Christian name or her scolding.
But he only gave an unrepentant chuckle, "One of many more to come my dearest, until you relent and let me engage your affections openly and honorably."
Casting quick looks about to ensure that they were indeed alone and out of sight Emma darted closer to press a swift, chaste kiss upon his lips.
"It is a good thing that you are doing the waiting and not I, as you are quite the more patient and virtuous of us." She teased back.
"I will not feel virtuous as I plan this excursion and fantasize about what dalliances we could be having alone in my strawberry fields." He growled, his eyes darkening.
Though their chances for intimacies had been few, between their limited time alone and his own strict adherence to duty and manners, she did know that giving him such a chaste kiss only drove him to reciprocate more passionately.
A back and forth she had come to delight in.
But now her curiosity was peaked.
"What sort of dalliances in the strawberry fields?"
Mr. Knightley went swiftly from amorous to flustered.
"I- er that is- well..." Emma observed a flush crawl up his neck and ears, turning them a delightful shade of pink.
"Noth- nothing a young lady need know about." He choked out.
Emma's dark eyes narrowed.
"You could fill entire libraries with the information gentlemen believe young ladies ought not know about. It seems fairly rude to fantasize about me then not share the content of that fantasy."
Now Mr. Knightley was definitely turned more red than pink. How delightful to bring such a reaction out in him!
"Emma, you cannot ask a man to tell you the content of his fantasies."
"If you weren't such a well mannered gentleman you could show me instead of answering with words." She replied in an arch manner, well aware that she was treading upon dangerous ground.
"If you would allow me to speak with your father I would be all too happy to marry you, and then show you exactly what sort of excursion I have in mind for the two of us in our strawberry fields." He smirked at her.
She gave him a scowl, but could only briefly keep it in place as her lips twitched upward into a playful smile, one that was full of impertinence.
"Do I get to write the guest list in this fantasy?"
"There is no guest list, there are not guests, and truth be told there are hardly any clothes either. So you may continue to ponder that or we can make for Hartfield and be one step closer to having it become a reality."
And with that highly improper statement he pulled her in for a brief, passionate, highly improper kiss. Then making sure their clothing was in no manner mussed he offered her his arm to lead her back to the house.
As they neared Emma stalled her steps.
"Perhaps, if it can be done in a manner delicate enough not to strenuously shock him, you may speak with my father before Mrs. Weston's confinement?"
Mr. Knightley's answering smile was radiant and rather infectious as Emma found herself grinning back at him.
"Wretched girl, now I will be the one struggling to comport myself as a dignified gentleman in company while restraining my feelings." He scolded her playfully.
His eyes sparkled with joy and he seemed almost to vibrate with energy. Perhaps longing to set out for Hartfield that moment before she could change her mind.
"I love you George Knightley." She said simply, wishing to tell him once more before they were again amongst others and needed to return to roles of Mr. Knightley and Miss Woodhouse.
The expression on his handsome face melted into one of wonder and awe, as if he truly could not believe his fortune at having her. When Emma knew she was the fortunate one, being so unworthy of such a truly good man.
"My dearest Emma, truly there is no man in England, nay in the whole of the world, as fortunate as I. I love you, though I speak of it poorly and show it in a most ungentlemanly manner." If he stuttered a bit over the weight of his emotions Emma barely noticed, too busy was she basking in his love.
"There are various degrees and types of ungentlemanly behaviors you know..." She said as they reached the door, "some of which I am becoming rather partial to."
With on last saucy grin she was inside in company, and out of reach.
"Minx." He groaned. But plastered a neutral expression upon his face.
He made his apologies soon after entering and begged off to estate business and to begin the operations of opening Donwell.
But Emma caught his eye as he bowed out and knew he was going home by way of Hartfield.
She hoped Dr. Perry was prepared for a long week.