As I thought this, I saw that I had indeed been blind. Longridge had asked her to help him choose a house so he would know which one she liked!

I decided that this was not the time to discuss parish business, as I had intended, but I could not resist asking a household question: "Will you need a maid, by any chance?"

"A maid?" Longridge asked in surprise.

"Why, the very thing," said Miss Bates, recovering her power of speech and understanding me at once. "James has another daughter, just the right age - if she were to work here then Mr. Woodhouse would visit us, I am sure. How fortunate to be able to return my friends" hospitality, for it was never easy to hold a dinner party in the apartment, though it was very snug, and Mother and I were lucky to have it. But now we will be able to invite our friends to dine with us, only Mr. Woodhouse will not come - he does not like to bother James, you know, though I am sure James never thinks it any bother - but if he feels that James can see his daughter he will not mind giving the instruction for the carriage to be brought round."

I left them to their plans, and the words Bath…Brighton…Weymouth…followed me out of the room.


Sunday 26 September

We dined at Randalls tonight, and when we had admired the baby, and all sat down to dinner, Mrs. Weston said: "Have you had any trouble with your poultry recently?"

"No, what kind of trouble do you mean?" asked Emma.

"Our poultry house was robbed last night. We lost all our turkeys."

"What?" exclaimed Mr. Woodhouse in alarm.

"Was it a fox?" Emma asked.

"No, nothing of the sort. There were no feathers. The turkeys simply vanished. They were taken by thieves."

"Thieves!" said Mr. Woodhouse, in great consternation.

"There is nothing to worry about, Papa. It was an isolated incident, I am sure of it," said Emma.

But Mr. Woodhouse was very anxious, and suggested going home at once, lest the thieves should be at Hartfield.

"If there are thieves at home, you had better remain here," said Weston.

Mr. Woodhouse did not know what to do: whether to go home at once, or never to leave the safety of Randalls again.

At last, I soothed his fears by offering to return to Hartfield with him, to make sure there were no miscreants on the premises.


Wednesday 29 September

Everywhere we go, we hear of poultry-yards being raided. Hens, chickens and turkeys are no longer safe. It is a problem for those of us who seek to uphold the law. William Larkins was very upset.

"We need to find the culprit, Mr. Knightley," he said.

"I have had a watch set around Highbury," I assured him. "We will catch the villains."

I did not want to catch them too soon, however, as the incident had had an unexpected, but very welcome, consequence. When I went to Hartfield this evening, Mr. Woodhouse was so perturbed by the thought of the robberies that he could talk of nothing else.

"Mrs. Cole has had a dozen hens taken," he said. "And there have been turkeys taken from Abbey Mill Farm. Mrs. Goddard was telling me about it only this morning. She had it from poor Miss Smith" - he has still not learnt to call her Mrs. Martin - "who visited her to say she was sorry she could not take her a turkey, as they had been stolen. I am afraid the thieves will come here next, and once they have taken our chickens, what will they do?"

"There is nothing to worry about, Papa. The poultry-yard is a long way from the house."

"You do not know these people, Emma. They will break the windows and steal the silver, I am sure of it," he said.

"We have John to protect us," said Emma soothingly.

"But he cannot stay for ever," said Mr. Woodhouse. "He has to be in London in November."

We could not have wished for a better opening.

"If Mr. Knightley were in the house, Papa, we would be safe. It was what we arranged, you know, that Mr. Knightley would come and live here once we are married."

"Oh, yes, so it was," he said in relief. "A very good plan. The wedding is to be in October, I think you said, Emma, my dear?"

"Yes, Papa," said Emma, with a smile at me.

"October the eighth was the date decided on," I said decisively, so that there would be no more arguments.

"Well, my dear, I am sure it cannot come soon enough for me," said Mr. Woodhouse. "I will not sleep easy in my bed until Mr. Knightley is here with us at Hartfield."


Thursday 30 September

Now that a date has been set for our marriage, it is the main topic of conversation in Highbury. I admired Emma’s fortitude this evening when we dined with the Westons, and the Eltons, too, were there.

I wondered how they would take the news. Elton said little, but Mrs. Elton quickly made up for his deficiencies.

"My dear Emma, what is this I hear? You are to be married, and to Mr. Knightley? You sad girl, how could you not tell me of it? I am quite put out. Selina will stare when she knows how sly you have been."

Emma was too happy to pay much attention, but Mrs. Elton went on: "Selina is to pay us a visit. We will tell you how to go on. Two married ladies, you know!"

"I cannot put you to the trouble..."

"My dear Emma, it is no trouble, no trouble at all," said Mrs. Elton gaily. "I flatter myself I am an old hand."

"I need very little..."

"My dear Emma, you need say no more. Simplicity shall be our watchword. Satin there must be, and lace veils; we will make you the most beautiful bride. But hush, here comes Knightley," she said as I approached, though she had whispered so loud I had heard every word. "The menfolk know nothing of dresses. My caro sposo declared himself mystified by all the talk of satin and lace."

I rescued Emma, and Mrs. Weston kindly distracted Mrs. Elton, who, apart from occasional references to pomp and feast and revelry and Hymen’s saffron robes, was persuaded to talk of other things, until she discovered we are to marry next week.

"But Selina will not be here! She does not come to us until November. How she will stare when I tell her. There is not time to arrange everything in a week."

"Simplicity is our watchword," Emma reminded her, but Mrs. Elton was still exclaiming over it when she and Elton set out for home.

October

Friday 8 October

Today, Emma and I were married. I had the satisfaction of knowing I was marrying the best woman in the world, because she is the only woman for me. I have seen few sights better than the sight of Emma walking into the church on her father’s arm. Elton performed the ceremony and, if he remembered that he had once hoped to marry Emma himself, he gave no sign of it.

As we made our vows, I had the pleasure of hearing Emma call me George. She seemed to like it, too, for she called me George again at our wedding-breakfast, and I do not despair of her calling me George as a general thing.

Isabella and Mrs. Weston argued over whether Emma’s first child would be a boy or a girl, Isabella pressing the merits of a boy as firstborn, and Mrs. Weston pressing the merits of a girl.

"Whatever the case, Emma will be a very happy woman," said John. "Will she not?" he asked Mr. Woodhouse.

Mr. Woodhouse looked up from his gruel and sighed.

"Poor Emma!" he said.