Chapter Text
It was as sunny as it could be in Donwell. Emma had her basket full of the biggest strawberries she could find. The activity has turned into a silent competition, happening inside her head only, for her amusement, in which she had to catch the bigger ones before anyone else could. It was a beautiful, but boring day, so she had to find a way to make it all the more delightful.
To take her rest away from the sun, Emma sat at the roots of a tree, finally relaxing her composure, away from the others. This was not a day to be exchanging not so pleasant pleasantries, she would much rather enjoy it by her self for a bit, before attending to her social duties.
Eager she was to enjoy the fruit of her hardwork, but taking her first bite did not feel nearly as rewarding as she expected. With clear confusion and a bit of disappointment in her face, she bit another one, only to find it also had almost no taste at all!
"You picked all the wrong ones." Explained a familiar voice behind her.
"What could you possibly mean by wrong strawberries? That does not sound like something that actually exists."
Mr Knightley softly laughed, looking at his shoes. "The smallest strawberries are underdeveloped, the big ones are mostly dry and flavourless. You should pick the ones in between."
Emma rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms, concealing a smile that would be admission of defeat. "You must be making that up just to spite me."
"I'd rather be spiteful with the truth only. Come", Mr. Knightley offered his hand, "I'll teach you."
"As you always gladly do." She had to have the last word, as he helped her to her feet and led her again through the strawberry fields, her hand in his arm.
"Here", he bend on a knee before a shrubbery, squinting his eyes, for the sun was shining over him, turning his golden hair into a glistening halo around his face. Emma caught herself staring at him, while he was babbling all about the ripeness of fruit.
"Emma, are you even listening?" He said, furrowing his brows.
"Yes, of course. Strawberries are ripe when this and that, and not ripe when such and such, etcetera. I heard you." She looked impishly at his face.
"Am I boring you? Because you can have all the bad strawberries you want, if that's more to your liking." Dared him, raising an eyebrow.
"No, please, Mr. Knightley. Do continue." She sat on her knees beside him, and they started picking together, while he showed her the better color, size and firmness of the berries.
They went on along the path, until her basket was full. They got up and ready to head back to the others, but she had to enjoy her strawberries, before the fun should be over, and take proof of all the new agricultural knowledge she begrudgingly received.
Emma reached for her basket, her eyes sparkling as she saw just the right one. It was perfectly round, bright red. Soft to her lips, she close her eyes as she took a bite. In the peak of it's ripeness, the strawberry burst in her teeth, a single drop of it's pulp dripped from the corner of her lips, while the juice flowed through her fingers.
Not thinking twice, Emma licked her fingers, to prevent further mess. When she open her eyes, there was Mr. Knightley, looking at her stunned, with the widest eyes and a dropped jaw.
Her own eyes widened, as her face flushed, red and ripe, for how much she just embarrassed herself with such lack of composure.
"Mr. Knightley, I am so..."
Suddenly his face darkened, with what could only be the most enraged expression she have ever seen on him.
"Wow, Emma. That was really... something indeed." She heard another gentleman's voice beside her. It was Frank Churchill, who emerged from the shrubs besides them, just in time to witness her lush enjoyment of the fruit.
Mr. Knightley handed her his handkerchief, never taking his eyes off of Churchill's, seeming ready to strangle him, right then and there.
"Emma", Mr. Knightley said in a deep tone, that made clear he was not to be contradicted at this moment, "Let us store those strawberries in the kitchen. Right now." He took the basket from her hand, and looking defiantly at Frank, placed her hand in his arm, as he led them fast and steady to the Abbey.
They went through the servant's entrance, and as they reached the kitchen, Emma washed her hands in a sink, while she caught in the corner of her eye Mr. Knightley pacing heavily from side to side.
"Mr. Knightley, is there something wro..."
"What in the hell were you thinking!?" Mr. Knightley looked floored.
"I beg you pardon, what is it that I have done this time?"
"Emma, how can you be so reckless?" He said looking at her piercingly.
"What have I done??"
"So unpardonably nonsensical..." He said stepping towards her.
"What!?..."
"To go such a lenght to get what you want..." approaching her menacingly.
"I didn't..."
"So much as to be that provocative..." As he cornered her to the wall.
"I did not meant...!"
"IN PUBLIC, in front of myself, to Frank Churchill!" He almost yelled.
"Mr. Knightley, what are you accusing me of??" Emma gasped.
He clenched his jaw and took a deep furious breath "You know precisely what you were doing, gloveless, moaning to you strawberry, licking your damned fingers. Have you no shame, to be so improper in public? You have said once and again you do not want marriage, but do you want to ruin you reputation?" Emma's eyes watered, as she realised what Mr. Knightley thought of her. And he continued.
"Have you not thought what shame that would bring to you father, to have such rumours about your character going around?"
"STOP!" Emma, yelled at his face, what she has never done before, leaving him startled. "You are so mistaken about me, it does not seem like you know me at all, Mr. Knightley! How could you make such assumptions?"
"Well, you took the opportunity you had to get his attention..."
"I did not know he was there...!" Emma was now pacing around the kitchen.
"Because you cannot possibly be that innocent..." He followed around her.
"I have said I did not meant to..." trying to dissuade him.
"To look a man in the eye licking your fingers and not mean..." He said rubbing his forehead, like he wanted to scratch the memory away.
"I was looking at you!" She yelled, her fists curled in fury by her sides, angry beyond her mind, that he wouldn't listen. But he did.
Both of them stared at each other in silence. Has she done that on purpose? Has she meant to seduce her dearest friend, Mr. Knightley? Neither of them knew. She most certainly was not innocent of what women usually do to get a man's favour. That kind of books she has read in secrecy, although not having experience in the matter herself. But has she done that on purpose, to get his attention?
Emma never gave much thought about the nature of their relationship. They were obviously friends, knew each other deeply, respected each other's opinions and enjoyed their time together. Hartfield dinners felt almost wrong without him, and she certainly looked forward to metting him everyday, wherever she were. Whether in her house, in town, walking in the fields and in the garden. In any special gathering, it was his company she most wanted.
She tried to walk past him through the door, not being able to think clearly, and overwhelmed by feelings she was not aware she had until this moment, when he held her arm, stopping her in her place.
As she was about to beg for his forgiveness, she was afraid to look him in the eyes once more, and find him discontent. But when she did, his face has turned... expectant of an answer. An answer to a question he did not ask, almost desperate to know what was she on about.
"I beg you to forgive me, for I have made a fool of myself, disregarding your friendship."
"What are you saying Emma?" His voice came soft as a whisper, devoid of all those harsh feelings it carried before. "Tell me at once."
"I have let myself get carried away, Mr. Knightley. I should not have shared a degree of intimacy with you I was not sure I'm entitled to."
"What kind of intimacy could you not be entitled, being the one closest to my heart, Emma?"
She knew Mr. Knightley loved her dearly. But how dearly was it? Her thoughtlessness could be her ruin, if he never forgave her for such a shameful conduct.
"I cannot be unwise anymore, Mr. Knightley." She said, barely holding her tears.
"Then let me be unwise just this once."
His fingers that held her arm slowly made way through her skin to meet her own hand, leaving a trail of goosebumps wherever he touched. He pulled her gently inside the kitchen, closing the door through which she meant to flee from him.
As he looked inside her eyes, she knew he was feeling the same as her. Their faces, like a mirror, shared one single desire. He came closer to her, and placed her hand on his chest, that rose and fell below her fingers, breathing heavily through his open lips. Emma leaned unto him when his fingers touched her face, gentle as a feather, making her heart fly.
She was never kissed before. And she was certain this one was the best kiss she could ever have. He leaned to her lips, whispering her name as he drew her face to him. When their lips touched ever so slightly, she was almost disappointed. Until they touched again, steadier, and again, mellower. And then, Mr. Knightley tasted her lip with his tongue, and she was doomed. There mas more to a kiss than she ever knew, imagined or read before.
If she could breathe through his kiss, she wouldn't. She would drown in his lips, and let his tongue dig her grave.
"I'm sorry Emma. I cannot make speeches." Mr Knightley said, smiling triumphant, holding her still.
"But you do know how to give a lecture, don't you?" Emma said, with her senses aflutter, but neverending wit.
Beloved readers:
I'm so glad you made it to the end of this first chapter! This is my first fanfic, and I'm not writing in my native language, nor my native time period (not a time traveler, or a historian), so if you have any corrections or tips to improve my text, feel welcome to leave it in the comments. I'd love to have your feedback! I'm still figuring out where this story is headed, so any prompts are also welcome. Kudos to give this girl a smile. See you on the next chapter!