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Here they were. Back home.
Seeing the Woodhouse state once more through the carriage window brought comfort—at last, home! — but also, secretly, a bit of sadness.
Emma made sure to stomp that feeling down as well as she could. She was returning home, after all! Her papa was worried and sick (though that was no new state for him, truth be told), and she itched to see him again.
She’d never stayed far from home for this long. So of course she was excited to get back.
It had been an adventure in its own right. Even if other nobles would scoff at ‘just’ being at sea instead of far away towns or foreign courts, it had already been plenty for Emma.
So what if she still saw that beautiful, vast view when she closed her eyes? What if it was indeed the very material of dreams and she now understood pirates only too well.
Her place was at home, at the Woodhouse estate.
And, well, the Knightley state as well.
Not at sea, spending leisure days that one could only hope would last forever. Sitting before the waves and letting the sound of the sea lull them to sleep. Walking on sand and feeling water between her feet. Fighting an endless struggle to stay afoot even when the water took both the sand (and a bit of her heart) with it at every turn.
It was magnificent.
But she had worried about her father constantly and made sure to write all her experiences. She missed him daily.
And now that she was finally returning home, she missed the sea.
Truly, even Emma tired herself at times with her own foolishness.
“Worry not,” Knightley’s ever-comforting — and now dashing to certifiably dizzying levels — voice calmed her immediately. “We shall have more adventures.”
Her petulant side wanted to argue against it, if only for the sake of arguing. It was both baffling and a bit irritating how well he could read her. Especially considering how she still didn’t quite read him as effectively.
But Emma was anything but a quitter. She would show him up at his own game and know him better than he knows himself. She shall anticipate his very thoughts and be one step ahead, always.
Just the thought of it thrilled her (even if she isn’t quite sure such a feat is achievable).
“We shall.” She nodded and held his hand tightly.
It would only be decided if she agreed to it, after all.
Emma quite liked how Knightley instantly flushed and turned his head away, if only for a bit, at the touch of her hand. This newly discovered power was quite wonderful, indeed. She got to shut him up for once and in the best way.
Only a hand brush or the right look — one she positively could never show in front of her father — was enough to make her husband lose his eloquence. As much as Emma learned to appreciate (and even enjoy) Knightley’s scoldings, it was just as enticing to know she could make him forget his train of thought at the slightest motivation.
Another thing she would miss is the veritable privacy they’d had the past days. Emma had never been left to her own as much, nor spent as much time with Knightley like this. She really did not want to consider spending even a night away from him now that their sea adventure was over.
She knew it was the same for him and, if it’d been difficult for Knightley to excuse himself for the evening before when he was only a dear friend, it would be impossible now.
How indecisive and lost she felt as the carriage stopped in front of her state and the servants awaited them eagerly.
Quite unlike her, really.
Emma always knew exactly what she wanted — or at least thought she knew — but now it was as if her heart was quite in between. She both longed to get back to the privacy of their little sea reprieve as well as run and hug her dearest father in quite an unladylike manner.
Oh, how she wished she could be in two places at once. But the world (and Knightley) would not be able to handle two Emmas, of that she was sure.
It was positively irritating how put together Knightley is. As if nothing had changed, he spent his evenings with them just as before. They talked about news from London and even of servants’ lives, even the ones not related to romance (which quite bored her).
Her father was overjoyed and thus complaining with gusto about everything: how the sheets were not done to his liking, the food could be better, the dangers of outside and how oh they must stay indoors always, for their own healths, of course.
Emma half-heard him and agreed, to put his mind at ease. Mr. Woodhouse was still a bit disgruntled at being left alone for ‘so long’ during their honeymoon, even though her sister stayed far longer (and never quite came back).
As much as she missed her father and enjoyed his company, Emma had to admit to at least herself that, should it be possible, she would skip dinner altogether and just retire to her rooms with her husband.
Of course, that would be quite improper of a lady of her station, and so Emma showed restraint. She had gotten better at it, if only slightly.
Knightley had helped her with learning restraint just as she’s helped him lose a bit of his. At least, that’s how it was during their honeymoon.
But now, he looked so composed and calm while speaking to her father that it irks her. It is as if they weren’t even married, really! The same pace, the same lack of rush to finish dinner. Oh, and then they retired to the fireplace, all three of them. It was still quite warm and nowhere near winter, but her father fought cold and tremors more often than not lately, and so they rested at the fireplace.
She could not concentrate on anything, be it a book or the piano. The latter had been untouched ever since she realized her once-believed talent was not quite so, thanks to Jane Fairfax. Sitting down made her more anxious, but a lady cannot pace around.
There was no need to even look at her husband to know he was very much aware.
It only irritated her further.
Here they were, back home, and a lady such as herself had to control such urges only animals should have. She’d gotten quite used to getting her way with Knightley and not quite caring what room they were in (and sometimes, even close to a window, which made her heart beat faster just remembering it).
Now, however, they are back home. Her father required long talks, and Knightley had to sort both household affairs. The time they had together was much too short (but just as sweet).
Emma never thought she would be the one unable to even concentrate on talking to her father. It seemed so certain Knightley would be the one to do so, especially considering how positively intense and close he’d been.
And yet now, here he was, the ever gentleman conversing with her father and without a care in the world for the time.
Once upon a time, Emma would have stuck it out and made it a secret duel between them, to see who could endure longer. But that was before, when Knightley was just (almost) family and the ever-annoying but kind mister I-must-teach-you-how-you-erred-so-severely. Now he was someone altogether new, even if his scolding was somewhat the same.
This was her husband. The only man she fell for and the only person in the world she ever felt comfortable sharing her deepest secrets with and accepting his judgment. The only one she would ever allow to touch her in such… compromisingly delicious ways. And certainly the only one she would allow to see all of her and, of course, the opposite applied.
Their new games were also much more interesting. Instead of trying to endure, she much preferred making him lose composure instead. Whether they were surrounded by strangers or servants, Emma would not find it below her to outright say a couple of risqué words here and there. But her father was with them, and she could not bring herself to do it.
So, losing once again to her impatience, she got up and excused herself after kissing her papa good night. As her father is in a particularly good mood and recounting his experiences as a young man back from his own honeymoon, she knows Knightley won’t be able to escape as easily. She suspects her father might even want to impart a few words of male wisdom (yet again).
Knowing just how much this particular smile and pose affected Knightley, she made sure to stop at the door before retiring from the room. There was nothing enticing in this, in her own opinion. It was merely a slight turn backwards, but it was amplified with her hair down. Should she not have married Knightley — an impossibility and a nightmare she does not want to engage with, even if she so often awakens from it — she never would have known the power that such small actions have over him.
‘You drive me mad just by existing, dearest Emma. Just by standing near me, by looking at me… I cannot even focus at times.’ His words from their first night still ring in her ears, even now.
Then, it is only fair to make it impossible for him to focus.
The look in his eyes said it all. Perhaps he’d been just as antsy as her, but better at hiding — guess being born earlier helps with that — though now all pretense was gone.
Those dark eyes on her were enough to make her pulse quicken, and Emma could feel the telling signs of excitement all over. She would absolutely not dirty her clothes, thus it was time to hasten to her — now their shared — room.
Excusing herself much too quickly to keep up the pretense, she knew well there would still be a quarter of an hour before Knightley could excuse himself from her father. It was more than enough time to get everything just right.
She would be ready, with her hair just the way he liked it, no perfume as he preferred, and perfectly comfortable. Of course, she would pretend to have fallen asleep at first just to irritate him.
Emma would not let her Knightley win that easily.
“Dear Harriet has never been happier, has she not?” The words came easy to her, now that she could truly appreciate what true happiness in marriage was.
What true love was as well, if Emma allowed herself to be honest.
She would never quite forgive herself for almost losing Knightley. And, of course, for almost ruining Harriet’s marriage.
“Despite attempts to the contrary, she has indeed found happiness.” He said it a bit too smugly, to which she felt the urge to reply.
There was nothing here that could salvage her past mistakes, and they knew it.
Instead, she settled for being happy seeing Harriet and her husband come greet them for tea. Admittedly, Emma still did not see what made him so wonderful according to Harriet and Knightley, but there would be mysteries one would not resolve in their lifetime. She’d made peace with it.
It was only when Harriet mentioned that a friend from the convent was also looking for a match that Knightley looked worried at her. Emma just sipped her tea as she listened to Harriet’s stories from the time they were off to their honeymoon.
The look he gave her when they were alone in his state was enough of a question.
“Surely I will not even attempt to matchmake, Mr. Knighley.” Even after marriage, she still quite liked to call him as she did before. She knew he enjoyed it too, especially when commands flew between them in the privacy of their chambers.
“Let me endeavor a guess,” He said too smugly for her taste. “Because this friend has no mysterious circumstances surrounding her birth?”
As it turned out, marriage made him even more attuned to the inner workings of her mind.
Spending an afternoon with Jane Fairfax and Frank Churchill was, for lack of a better term, excruciating. For different reasons.
As charming as Frank continued to be, it was not the same anymore. His wit hid a spark of cruelty that remained well into this now-married man. Even with nothing to hide, he still enjoyed making jokes at Jane’s expense.
While Knightley was no stranger to wit or criticism, he was never cruel. That is something that took much too long for Emma to properly realize.
It was truly a test of patience that Jane excelled at when Frank kept the jokes going — sometimes at his expense, but more often at hers. Most of them were funny to the point that Emma tried to hide a bit of her laughter, for the sake of Knightley more than Jane. It was clear by now Emma would hear a handful later in the evening for having laughed. She couldn’t help that some of it was indeed hilarious. Though, if these were jokes at her expense, she knew now well enough there would be no humor in them.
As these two were the closest to society in town, it was clear by now they would spend much of their days together. The friendship Emma so idealized at first between her and these two mysterious nobles, removed from her life far too soon, was no longer part of her fantasies. Mr. Knightley was now the sole source of such fantasies.
Emma really wanted to improve. She did feel her current self was significantly better, more mature than pre-marriage Emma. How ironic, considering she never even considered marriage for herself.
There was, however, still a long way to go — even if she would never admit it to Knightley or anyone else. Some self-reflections must stay within one’s own mind, after all.
And try as she might, Emma still found herself not enjoying Jane’s company. Maybe all the praise poisoned her view of this verifiable poor young woman who’d been through a lot. Rationally, Emma knew Jane would benefit from her friendship — perhaps more than dear Harriet ever did. But goodness if Jane was just no fun. So unlike Mr. Churchill.
It also didn’t quite help just how gentlemanly and kind Knightley insisted on being with poor Mrs. Churchill, such a tragic character in his mind.
Well, not tragic enough to deserve such attention, if Emma were to be asked.
Every discussion after socializing with the Churchills inevitably turned into an argument. Emma would not accept Knightley’s overindulgence of poor old Jane — who was treated more kindly than Mrs. Knightley herself! — while Knightley would argue against Emma’s copious laughter to Frank’s clearly terrible jokes.
It takes many years until both couples are at ease with each other. Or rather, until Emma is at ease with Jane and Knightley gets used to scolding Frank, who surprisingly acquires a taste for it.
Tensions do arise once more when the young Churchill heir starts courting Miss Knightley, who quite enjoys it, despite her parents’ shock.
Mr. Woodhouse’s spirits did improve after his youngest daughter’s marriage proved she would not be leaving the estate. His health, however, didn’t quite align with his improved mood. The ever present sensibility to cold increased, as well as the constant worries about unclean air outside their estate. By that point, Knightley had but moved in as he took care of both houses.
Emma stayed at her father’s side, ever careful and strict with his hygiene, which she made sure the servants took special care of. For her, it took much too long for her sister and the eldest Knightley to arrive, their entire entourage in tow, children running amok. It didn’t quite raise her father’s mood as she’d hoped, but he was always happy (if still grumpy) about seeing his grandchildren.
Aside from Knightley, she could only confide in her sister about the deep fear that bubbled up in her as each day went by. Her father looked weaker by the day, and even having darling Anne back to help with his case couldn’t improve his decaying health. Still, Emma put on a brave face, as she always did. She could not let her father worry. She had to stay strong and, as such, ease his own worries.
Her sister and Knightley’s brother stayed until the very end. As much as Mr. Woodhouse complained daily about pains and discomfort, he was as happy as he could be with family all around him and as far away as possible from London’s dirty, sickness-inducing air.
The weeks after the funeral had been the hardest of her life. This was the time period she never wanted to think back to, if at all possible, more so than that accursed strawberry picnic so long ago.
Thank goodness for Knightley. He did not say much, but his ever constant presence had been so, so important then.
Emma wanted to laugh. To think she thought it would all be fine, had she been alone. Without her father, it was like a piece of her had permanently departed the world.
Knightley understood — even if he and his brother had never been as close to his own parents.
The little he said is enough to ease her mind.
“How about a trip to the sea?” He suggested one day, already knowing her answer.
A small luxury and a great big adventure all at once. One she’d refused herself — and him, by extension — as her father demanded more attention and love.
Emma felt guilty to even consider going, so soon after his passing. But she knew it was necessary.
She would not stay hidden away in this house, unable to leave, like her father had been. Knightley would make sure of that. And she was so thankful.
The new mistress of the Woodhouse estate learned to manage it with ease, surprising many (except her husband). Knightley was considered as strange as ever for letting his wife manage so much of what would be, for all purposes, his own responsibility. Even Mr. Weston himself didn’t quite agree with Emma learning the gruesome estate-owning affairs reserved to men.
That only motivated her more to not only learn, but to excel at it.
There was still the issue of two estates to maintain and only the now very alone couple. To say Emma filled her heart with other things after her father’s absence would be a lie. There would always be a space in her heart reserved just for him, her dear father who, for all his faults, loved her so dearly. As she did him.
Her love for Knightley and their eventual children was just as grand, but different in kind altogether.
Young Miss Woodhouse, who once swore to never get married and to be quite content with life as it was, learned how to bite her tongue (if only just a bit).
Indeed, she did not need to get married — a luxury so few could ever consider, much less live to enjoy. It was not an imperative to her, as the Woodhouse estate would always be solely hers.
But she did enjoy the life of a married woman so very much — something that surprised her to the end. It was not the status of marriage, much less of being able to tell others she had a husband to ‘care for’, as her maids so enviously put it.
Oh no. She enjoyed being with her darling Mister Knightley.
Now, Emma knew: had it been any other man (Frank Churchill included) she would never have found joy, much less satisfaction, in the act of marriage.
Only Knightley drew out of her so many emotions and discoveries. Only this infuriatingly incredible man made her want to experience more and to learn more.
She knew it was the same for him.
It is only the surname of Knightley that could possibly bring her the same amount of joy and pride as being called by Woodhouse.
It took many years — much longer than it had been for her sister — but Emma did eventually become a mother.
For all her many faults (and virtues), Emma could assuredly call herself a good mother. More importantly, Mr. Knightley believed her to be one, which seemed a fairer source of truth than her own (perhaps partial) opinion of herself.
Unsurprisingly, Knightley turned out to be a wonderful, if still stern, father.
Surprisingly, it was Emma who was the stern one of the two. The children would await her permission and also get annoyed at her scolding, rather than their father’s.
Emma was particularly adamant about not having (too) spoiled children, to the point where they could not see their own faults and errors. She’d had quite enough of that during her own youth.
It is not her daughter who worries her, for as much as she enjoys many things in life, she is quite serious and uninterested in the ways of love (that is, until a certain young Churchill comes along). Rather, it is her youngest son, who is every bit as mischievous and as sure of himself.
Emma does get a bit of her own medicine, as Knightley put it while laughing a bit too much, when her son graciously tells the family at dinner how he is to set up his best friend with his match in a week.
“Trust me, I know who shall be the best for him!” Young Henry says confidently to his parents and sister. “I have a talent for these things, you see.”
“I wonder where I’ve heard that before.” Knightley fondly pats his son’s head. He is in no mood for lectures, as he knows it is Emma who will handle this.
Emma sighs, thinking of fate as a mistress too fond of irony.
“Indeed.”
The Woodhouses seemed to have a love for matchmaking, it seemed.