The Secrets of Donwell Abbey– Chapter Two

This is the last free chapter available for this story. If you would like to continue reading before the release, I have included a link at the bottom.

Anticipated release is the end of November–hopefully before!

Chapter Two

All the way back to Donwell Abbey, George scoured his memory. Had he merely imagined his encounter with Emma? Few would guess it, but there were all manner of thoughts he had that he did not act upon or say. His father had given voice to every whim he had. The world lived in fear of his moods. Perhaps not the world, but certainly the occupants of Donwell. From an early age, George desired to be nothing like his father. His father’s mercurial temperament assisted him in the endeavour. There was no space for his own feelings when he had to gauge his father’s emotional temperature constantly.

Still, his imaginings typically ran to an unkind or sarcastic remark here and there. He never would have dreamed up the situation with Emma. However, she did not appear to be expecting his addresses. He thought through the exchange again.

He often visited Hartfield. It was open to him at any time of day and as father and daughter seldom stirred from the house, he was sure to find someone within. Although now that he thought of it, George was unsure of the last time he met with Mr. Woodhouse alone. Emma walked every day but did not keep a regular routine now that her governess had married. How had he not missed seeing her for one day in years? Ah, she often told him of her plans the following day. Had he unconsciously been altering his schedule to match hers for all this time?

George scrubbed a hand over his face. His interest in Emma was new, was it not? She was not quite one and twenty and he had known her since her birth. Although, it had occurred while he was away at school. Then, for the next several years he was in University…

She had always been clever for her age, but the age gap was always acutely felt. He was forever admonishing her. Mr. Woodhouse was too indulgent as a father and her governess was too lenient. She lacked a brother. When her sister married his brother, it seemed that George could fill the void by being a stern friend. She was almost his honorary sister.

Then, he had spent all of September with John, Isabella, and the children at South End. He returned to Surrey in time for Mr. and Mrs. Weston’s wedding. Perhaps it was the separation or seeing Emma plan her friend’s wedding, but he suddenly was aware of how feminine she was. She was no longer his almost-relation or merely a dear friend. Her smile made his heart race, and he stared too long into her hazel eyes. His gaze often went to her, and he hoped to see her before any other person in the day.

Was that when it began? Or perhaps it had its roots in their long, steady friendship. Still, as new as his awareness of Emma’s womanly effect on him was, he could not have imagined taking liberties with her. Besides, what sort of red-blooded male would have fantasised about such a chaste kiss?

He stopped for a minute under the shade of a tree. It had been entirely chaste—and in typical Emma fashion, she seemed unaware of what she had done. However, he could not pretend it did not happen or that he did not want another. A lifetime of them suited him just fine. It was all he could think about last night alone in his large house. Suddenly it was too big and lonely. Emma could fill it with life and laughter.

A dark thought intruded on his happy memory. The kiss was almost benign in action, but not in feeling. His thoughts did not stop at a light kiss when he imagined her as his wife. Indeed, he had been alarmed in the last few weeks as such desires flashed in his mind with increasing frequency. It all spilt over last night. His father’s blood coursed in him, after all.

How could he bring that to Emma? She deserved the gentleman she thought he was. The one who was always honourable and kind. For years, George had fooled himself into thinking that all he struggled with were some thoughts better left unsaid. Now, he feared the depravity within him.

Annoyed at his own thoughts and indecision, he stomped into Donwell. The butler informed him that his steward awaited him in the study.

“Mr. Larkins is all well?” George asked after they greeted one another with handshakes.

“Very,” he acknowledged. “I am sorry, I thought you requested that I meet with you this morning.”

He had. That was before kissing Emma and his entire world turning upside down. Now, apparently, his mind was too preoccupied to remember such things. “My apologies. I fear that it slipped my mind. Pray, do not think that I do not esteem you and it is a slight.”

Larkins smiled. “We have been friends for many years, so that was not something that I worried about.” He cocked his head to one side and looked at George. “You look unrested. That affects the ageing mind affect us differently than when we were younger.”

Ageing! George stood up straighter. He was not old. Emma had scolded him more than once for not participating with the young men. Larkins had a good ten years on him. But then, John had recently complained to him about the same thing. “I suppose it affects everyone differently. A married man with a house full of children might find it harder to recover.”

“Perhaps so,” Larkins agreed. “However, I mean no offence when I point out that you are not getting any younger.” He glanced around the room. “All your promises to think of marriage ‘someday’ will soon pass you by. The eligible ladies will only grow younger and younger, the gulf between you wider and insurmountable. Weston had the right idea with an old spinster. Perhaps there is a young widow in a neighbouring town…”

George held up his hand. “Mrs. Weston was no spinster. You are as incorrigible as Miss Woodhouse. There will be no matchmaking if you please.”

“I did not have a specific lady in mind. I only meant to point out that you should consider these things.”

“Perhaps I shall not marry at all. We have often joked that Donwell will go to my nephew, Henry.”

“Will he not have Hartfield, too?”

“Then I will make it over to Jack.” He cleared his throat. “I do not suppose that I told you what I wished to discuss yesterday?”

Larkins laughed. “Oh, this is an interesting turn of events. Perhaps this is more than mere poor sleep.”

“I am quite well. I had a headache yesterday…but it eased.” In fact, George was surprised he did not have another one from the lack of rest and the tumult of his mind.

“You wished for a report on Robert Martin’s scheme.”

“Oh, yes. Carry on.”

The two men finally got down to business. It was a quick meeting. Robert Martin was a steady young man. He was not George’s tenant and therefore did not need his permission. He merely valued George’s input. Truth be told, Martin and Larkins were some of George’s closest friends. He would ten thousand times prefer their company to many of his neighbours of gentry stock. Unfortunately, Emma never liked it.

George’s mind continued to wander during Larkins’ presentation. Perhaps Emma had the right of it. They should pretend that last night never happened. She would ask him to change his friends. Immediately, George dismissed the thoughts. First of all, he would not bow to Emma’s nonsensical whims, and she surely knew it. Secondly, it meant little to her who George’s friends were. She argued for the sake of vanity, yet it did not strike her soul the way it did in vain people. With a little more prodding and education, she could come to his way of thinking. Who else would ever give it to her? Most importantly of all, he could not forget her sweet lips.

When he came to himself, Larkins laughed in the doorway. He blinked rapidly.

“Where are you going?” George asked.

“I am off to home to see my wife. This growing baby tires her more than the others have. She requests that I return home in the afternoon so she can rest.”

“Remind me how many you have now.”

“This one will make eight.” Larkins wore a silly grin. “The house is loud and overflowing and I love it.”

George let him leave. John had said the same sort of thing. Indeed, George himself felt it every time he visited his brother. Oh, there were pains and headaches. There were times when one wished for solitude and quiet. However, the joy of a houseful of children could not be beat. George had always wanted many children himself. He and John had often wished for more siblings—even sisters. This merely proved how desperate they must have been for more company as according to his three nephews, no self-respecting boy would ever want a sister.

John had succeeded where George had not. On the other hand, John reached at his opportunity of happiness. George had yet to even see one. Until now, that is.

*****

George spent the rest of the day attempting to refocus his mind. Instead, it wandered. He made up a list of rooms to have Emma look at. She would, undoubtedly, desire to make many changes to his bachelor domain. It would be her right and so long as she thought of comfort first, he would have no quarrel. However, he expected her to have some silly reasoning now and then. For example, she recently said she would never choose purple in a drawing room for that is what the Coles have. Her declaration only made George argue that he would redo his own in such a fashion. She had railed at him for a good ten minutes.

The truth was he did not care how a single room, aside from the library and study, looked. He merely liked to disagree with her. Why was that? Was it because all of her attention was on him? Because he enjoyed the rapidity of her mind and applauded her clever remarks? She was not always or even often correct, of course. For example, she thought Harriet was in a better social position than Robert Martin. However, she claimed that Harriet had many opportunities to marry better because she had the sort of personality most men preferred and there were a multitude of examples of that being enough for many to overlook.

As mistaken as Emma was in so many areas, George had to concede she was correct in things that truly mattered. She pretended that social hierarchy and pomp did not exist—even while exhibiting signs of it herself. However, her conclusions were not baseless. After all, Mrs. Weston was not a young lady but so virtuous and kind that Weston thought nothing of her age or situation in life.

Most importantly, who but Emma would George even be able to have such conversations with? Who else would challenge his opinions and point him to things as they should be? This part of Emma made him a better man. If only it had nothing to do with Harriet Smith, who might more probably be Harriet Knightley.

When he inherited Donwell several years ago, he did not delve into all the financial particulars too much. He trusted his solicitor and his steward was invaluable to him. He balanced the tenant books. It was imperative their money was always accounted for, and their every need met. He was no spendthrift, and so he never worried about the London accounts. Until a few months ago when he learned of monthly payments going to Mrs. Goddard’s School set up during his father’s purview.

How George wished he could have assumed his father donated the money out of the goodness of his heart. He alone could guess the truth. The elder Mr. Knightley had been an upstanding gentleman in public. Instead, George understood exactly why there were payments to Mrs. Goddard’s school. They must support a Knightley child. A girl. Somewhere in that school, George had a sister.

When he sought more information, he was informed that his father’s will stipulated it be concealed until the lady turned eighteen. Unable to ask for her name or any particulars George ordered the solicitor to increase her standard of living. She was now seventeen and could be a parlour border for another year or two before needing to leave the school. Her education must be complete and soon would need new accommodations. The time was coming when George ought to make himself known to her, but he hesitated on how to do so.

Emma had begun a friendship with Harriet Smith in the autumn. Emma’s old governess and long-time companion had just married, and George knew she had been lonely and needing a female friend. At first, he was uncertain that the vacant-headed and silly young girl could benefit Emma. Next, he feared that Emma’s desire to “improve” Harriet’s situation would merely harm her and give her false airs.

George had no serious suspicions that Emma’s new friend might be his half-sister until Harriet received a proposal from one of George’s neighbours and closest friends. Emma insisted Harriet must be a gentleman’s daughter, even if a natural one, and therefore above her suitor. How else could she recently become a parlour boarder? He had never before inquired about Harriet’s status at the school. The timing was too coincidental to believe. Harriet had every probability of being his sister.

In the heat of the argument, George had managed to conceal his conflicting emotions. He had only seen her a few times and never inspected her closely. Did she have the Knightley chin? His father’s eyes? If she were his sister, then his feelings intensified to see her well-settled with a man as gentlemanly as he knew Robert Martin to be.

It sometimes amazed George that Emma could not guess the direction of his thoughts. She had not deduced the reason for his heightened interest and implacable resistance to her idea of matching Harriet with Mr. Elton. However, he began to wonder if he ought to explain it all to her. Even as he thought it, an unreasonable fear filled his heart. She might think less of him. He had never been so tempted to conceal the truth or put off doing the right thing.

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