Mr. Knightly sat in the darkness of the drawing room and was glad for once to be out of Hartfield's folds. However, Donwell Abbey did not give him the usual pleasure of security nor success this evening. He was a man of a dedicated nature and kind to those in need. Nevertheless, he was very short with those of the privileged folk and today's afternoon gathering in Emma's house grated his nerves immensely.

Knightly tried to erase the incident from his memory but his pride refused to let him succeed in the matter and he surrendered himself to what he was feeling. He was jealous for the first time in his entire life and there was no solace to be had anywhere. Emma has just turned twenty and is considered the belle of Highbury. Her birth and upbringing had made her one of the most desirous matches in the county. The only reason that there aren't constant stream of suitors for Emma's perusal was the simple fact that Highbury has none to give. But Knightly was sure that once Emma was introduced to the London circle she would not be in need of admirers.

Today however a local county squire came by for the party and immediately attached himself to Emma. His playing of attention and flattery was exactly what Emma needed for the day so she returned some of the attention to Knightley's dismay. Nothing was spoken that can be misconstrued and the teasing was light, but Knightly experienced a painful feeling of severance from Emma, the girl he knew. He berated himself for she was almost a sister to him. He held her as a babe and fed her when she couldn't feed herself. He played catch the tail with her until she fell into laughing heap of muslin at his feet. He taught her how to shoot and walked with her in the meadows answering all the questions that her sharp and inquisitive mind created. And now she has grown into a beautiful woman that any man with sense would desire. Anyone but him.

This was the trap he pushed himself into and now he is discovering there is no escape. Emma valued him dearly and he was wise enough to know that his place in her life was of great influence. But it was the influence of a brother, a dear but older family member. She listened to him when he berated her no matter how painful it was to hear. She was free with him in a way that society would disapprove if known but Emma, being the spirited girl that she was, did not care. And he loved her greatly for that. Only now was he realizing how much he loved her. He wondered, trying to remember when this emotion bloomed but it was a fruitless search. And he suspected that it has grown behind his common sense and propriety until it was too grand for him to grasp. Now Emma was becoming her own, and with this she was slowly slipping from his reach of influence. More men will come by her door with all sorts of flattery and presents. He knew she had the common sense to turn most of them on their heels but there will be one, a true suitor who will love Emma for who she was and she will see this love and will return it wit her heart. And this man will be a solid person with honor and good livelihood. They will be congratulated upon and showered with good wishes from everyone, feted about the village and her father will weep for the loss of yet another daughter.

Knightly felt his life slipping even as he imagined it. He will be the happy neighbor and will kiss Emma's cheek at the engagement party all the while feeling his heart's blood slowly drain away. He will attend the wedding in his best coat and watch her become the partner of another man all the while he would wish himself anywhere but there. Knightley's proud head finally bent itself under the distress his imagination conjured in that dark room and he finally let out a sound not unlike a sob. But Emma loved him in her own particular and sweet way. She never deserted him because he was too severe or too solemn. She always brought laughter into his life and left some behind the Abbey when she returned to Hartfield. Her constant meddling into other affairs was exasperating, but he was always gentled his tongue because he knew that it was her sweet nature and not ill will that caused all the troubles. And she always prepared the best food for supper when he came by for a meal mistakenly believing that a bachelor could never have a decent meal in his own home, no matter how wealthy he was. He missed her already and he wondered how much more painful it would be when she is truly gone. This day turned on Knightly deeply.

Darkness Descends Upon Knightley

Knightley dared not turn back for he could barely hide his emotions underneath the brim of his hat. So it has come to this sad state where he was now completely powerless. That travesty on Box Hill was the final proof that Frank Churchill has now become the focus in her life. And he, Knightley, was no longer of value in Emma's estimation. He could not bare it, how could it progress this quickly? How could he be now the unwanted friend and a youth of three-and-twenty be the recipient of all her favors? He rode his horse towards the Abbey not looking to see if his servants were following him home. He neither greeted his groom when the man ran to take the reins of his horse nor the servants as he entered into the library. He took no pleasure in the liquor and slowly raised his head to the looking glass in the corner. He saw a man sixteen years her senior. His hair in some strands were going grey, his eyes bore a sign of fatigue that in his youth did not exist.

He looked at his hands and realized that they did not belong to a gentleman for so long he has abused them. He could have borne all this cruel self-study, if she only turned her face to him as he shamelessly berated her at the Hill. Instead, she refused to see his face and speak. She gave him no leave and no recognition of his person at all. His Emma would always at least apologize or make impertinent remarks after his lectures. A few times in her youth she even shed tears. An effect that quickly stopped his tongue, for he could not bear to see her fall from her happy perch. But today he met with silent incivility and no emotion. So desperate was he to make himself known, he even told her he believed his time with her to be limited, that he could try to give counsel while he could. The unspoken explanation being she will be Mrs. Churchill soon enough and be removed from his circle of true friends. Yet all he saw was the set of her shoulders and the fine line of her neck. No reactions came forth from that proud head and he crumpled inside believing her to be already removed.

And how could he berate her in such a manner? He was heartily ashamed of his outburst for that's what it was. He panicked as he watched Emma mock Ms. Bates in front of the party. He saw cruelty in the words she chose and a hardness so unlike Emma in her manner and tone. The transformation was immediate and brief in duration, but it took Knightley by total surprise, and his fears of losing Emma swelled inside his breast. So much that he chased after her using his own brand of anger to try to recover Emma of the old. He tried to make her see the total wrong she committed against the poor Ms. Bates and make her guilt curb the brutal wit she inflicted on the lady. But all he received was her cold silence and no understanding of his lecture. What he feared not so long ago has passed in that beautiful hill today. And in the pretty sunshine swimming around his person, Knightley felt darkness descend.

There Is No Darkness That Can't Be Banished

Knightly finally concluded that one more day in Donwell will drive him deeper into bleakness. Emma was near, but he dare not visit lest his prior beliefs were irrevocably confirmed. However, he was never a coward and was a man of some wit. He decided to visit John and Isabella for some reprieve and roused himself to see Mr. Woodhouse to declare his leave from the intimate circle. Emma was not home, and his quiet fears and hopes sank even further. He chanced upon Harriet and even tried to connive some information from her, but alas the sweet girl was as empty of information about Emma as he was and he silenced himself. Any other company this would have been noticed, but since it was Mr. Woodhouse who sat across from him, Knightley was sure his behavior would go unrecognized as a deviation. And Harriet knew so little of him and was in constant awe of him that she would not dare question his actions.

Then he heard Emma's voice, and his visage quieted itself. He rose and bowed as she entered the room. She is a fresh beauty from her walk, his eyes whispered to his mind. He managed to ignore the remark and with a grave demeanor he told Emma of his impending trip. She looked at him with a trace of sad expression on her face, and Knightley could not leave his gaze from her eyes. Her father spoke,

"Well my dear, and did you get there safely? And how did you find my worthy old friend and her daughter? I dare say they have been very much obliged to you for coming. Dear Emma has been to call Mrs. and Miss Bates. Mr. Knightley, as I told you before. She is always so attentive to them..." Knightley was never as fond of the old man as he was at that moment. His Emma has returned, and he saw her shameful blush at the praise so undeserved. She then looked at him, straight and honest, and shook her head signing to him that she knew that to be the truth as well.

His Emma was back! The sweet girl was not deceiving herself and she took his harsh words in Box Hill in earnest. He was ashamed to have uttered such diatribe, but his heart once again began to join the living, and his visage, though he did not know it, rejoiced at the sound of hope entering his world again. Without thinking and glowing with the fondness he felt for Emma, he took her hand to kiss, but at the last moment arrested his actions. She is promised to Frank Churchill, he thought, and the whole town of Highbury knew it, believed in it and wished for it. He let her hand go and straightened himself to see a puzzled look on her face. Go, he told himself, quickly man before you commit some unthinking error, wounding her again. He took his leave from the company as quickly as he could, rushing back to the Abbey. His manservants packed his bags and without entering the house again, he and his coach rushed to what he believed to be a sanctuary from Highbury.

His arrival in London was with the usual absence of fanfare, though John was surprised at the sudden arrival. Isabella, lacking in curiosity, established Knightley comfortably in the guest quarters and sought to make sure her brother-in-law was sufficiently happy. He claimed that he was content and continued to repeat the same exact phrase for the next few days, but the hostess only saw distress and unhappiness with Mr. Knightley. He was never a man to attend balls and assemblies. He would occupy the theater but rarely go to clubs with his more social and political brother. However, his behavior was even more subdued than before, and his appetite had all but disappeared. If he indulged in alcohol, she would have known that it was a problem of a personal nature, but Knightley never took to alcohol, as many others have. His courtesies and kindness to the whole family, including the newborn were as good as ever, but there was something definitely lacking in his manner.

If Isabella knew what caused his distress, she would have been shamed into silence. For she was constantly chatting and singing praises of Emma and her upcoming engagement with Frank Churchill. What fineries were necessary for Emma, what dresses, where would Emma and Frank reside after their marriage and host of other questions that her husband indulged with a smile, and Knightley bore with a wounded heart. Then thunderous news struck; the imperial Mrs. Churchill quickly succumbed to her illness and was now dead. Mr. Knightley knew that this would clear any hindrances that Frank Churchill would have had, and now he can claim Emma as his own. Knightley waited in dread, looking at the papers for the bann announcing the engagement of the handsome couple. When he walked the London streets, he sometimes fancied he saw Emma in a dress shop or at lace maker's store looking to finish her trousseau. Her laughter in joy followed his waking hours, mocking him in his sleeping ones. Then the faithful day arrived when he saw a letter from Mr. Weston waiting for him in his room. He sat down and toyed with the envelope. It was a small letter he mused but then of course everyone was expecting it, so why waste words?

Dear Mr. Knightley,

In distress we write to you, for Mrs. Weston is nearly in tears.

My son, Frank Churchill has deceived us most cruelly, and now young Emma must shoulder the pain. We have just discovered he is engaged! Yes, engaged all this time, though telling us none of this secret. And the lady to this secret is no other than Jane Fairfax...

Knightley sat there with the letter in front of him not comprehending the words. Then piece by piece he engaged in logic and found himself shocked. He always believed Frank was toying with Miss Fairfax and he did this out of some incipient cruelty. And because Knightley was blinded with his love for Emma he never thought Frank would prefer another to Emma. But here he has his proof of all his miscalculations regarding that youth, and from Mr. Weston's own words!

Sliver by sliver Mr. Knightley's character fell apart as all the distress from days before shed their claws from him. Emma would never be a Churchill; she would not marry tomorrow or this season. And when he returned to Highbury, she would still be sitting next to her father attending to every single whim of Mr. Woodhouse. His good will came crashing through his sadness, and he found himself well for a moment, until he thought of Emma. The poor girl would be heartbroken and feeling rightfully abused. She showed nothing but sweetness in ensuring Frank's position in Highbury. She lent that silly boy her heart and this was what he gave in return. Emma always said she would never marry, a declaration that disappeared when Frank Churchill came into view, but now it might truly come to pass. And the joy Knightley felt for himself dissipated under his shame. His Emma might be crying herself into misery that no one can bring her out of. What he felt for days was now on her slight shoulders, and he could not believe that she could bear the same anguish and sense of loss.

He grabbed his great coat and his hat, for he heard the dark thunders roll into London. He saw a footman and barked orders for his horse to be ready. Then he rushed into his brother's office in total disarray. John raised his head to see him come in. "Leaving us so soon? Was London..."

Knightley did not let him finish "Frank Churchill is to marry Jane Fairfax." John paled visibly and sat back.

"Is this a sure piece of news? The way Isabelle prattled about..."

"Yes, John, I just received the letter from Mr. Weston. I must go back to Highbury and see that Emma is taken care of." The meaning of this was very clear to the older brother who always suspected what Knightley would never speak of.

"Go, I'll send your things after you. Take care of her and yourself." Knightley gave him a tentative smile and marched outside where the groom barely had his horse ready. The rain pelted down harshly, but all Knightley could think of was Emma sitting in that silent parlor by herself wondering where she went wrong not to deserve her love back. Perhaps she would even pull some of his lectures back into her mind to compare her faults to those of Jane Fairfax. And Knightley agonized in the thought that his Emma would use his words against herself. What if that odious Mrs. Elton heard of this? Would she not crow about Emma's misery and perhaps even contrive a "sympathetic visit" to wound the girl even more? The thought was vile, but not so much as that wicked woman. He rode his horse in frenzy to Hartfield, praying he arrive there before the news spread over Highbury's society.

The Greatest Light Is From Within Fueled By Hope.

Without even an introduction, Knightley entered the hallway; the footservant barely having enough time to grab the door open for him. Without his usual care of greeting he tossed his coat and hat to the butler. Knightley had no idea how frightful he looked. Soaked through his coat and hat, his hair was an uncontrived mess and his clothes were blotched and dampened in places. The servants gave each other suspicious looks while studiously hiding their faces from Knightley. He asked the butler where Emma was and the man, with decorum befitting his station, guided Knightly to the doors leading to the garden.

"We are grateful you came sir. For the lady has not been herself lately and we were concerned." The butler whispered to Knightley, dropping his dignified air and confirming Knightley's worries. He gave the man an appreciative nod and stepped into the garden.

Emma was standing there, not moving and lost in her thoughts. She did not even recognize his familiar steps until she saw a glimpse of his movement from the corner of her eye. It was a pleasant garden and was renewed by the rain that swept through, soaking him. Emma adored it but there was no joy to be had of it today. She piqued her head like a bird and smiled sweetly enough, but Knightley knew Emma better and saw the restraint in her greeting. He exited the dining-room and greeted her with more than his usual restraint. Her response was even more subdued than his and his worry was now in full reign of his actions.

Their conversation was stilted and formal, nothing like their previous encounters, and as Knightley struggled to bring up the subject of Churchill, Emma did it for him. He admitted that he heard it yesterday in London and Emma was astonished. Belatedly he scrambled an excuse saying Mr. Weston conveyed the information at the end of a small letter. Emma's voice seemed to rise somewhat,

"You must have been less surprised than any of us, for you had your suspicions. I have not forgotten that you once tried to give me a caution. I wish I had attended to it. But I seem to have been doomed to blindness." Her talk ended more depressed than he had ever heard her speak before, and Knightley couldn't bear to hear her criticize herself in such a way.

He took her hand and held it against himself and tried to soothe his dear friend. "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound. Your own excellent sense; your exertion for your father's sake: I know you will not allow yourself..." and his train of thought disappeared all the while his distaste for Churchill rose. "The feeling of warmest friendship, indignation, abominable scoundrel! He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire, she deserves a better fate!" His conclusion of his sentence, though reflecting what he felt, did not help Emma, and he bemoaned his venting at such a crucial moment.

Emma then informed him that Frank Churchill, though he used her friendship, did not touch her heart. And she saw in her own wisdom what Frank Churchill offered was nothing sincere and everything of flattery. She was not attached to Frank Churchill in such a way to deserve this kind of care from Knightley, and that only her pride was hurt. But then her pride does need these lessons. All the while she talked, Knightley tried to conduct himself, for he was in that moment overjoyed that Emma was not feeling such abuse. But then Knightley felt himself fall once again, for how long will this continue on for him? And how much of this can he bear? When she turned to him Knightley expressed how lucky Churchill was in everything, in love, in fortune, family and friends. The man was so much younger than himself yet he seemed to have fate smile upon his fair head! While he, Knightley suffered everyday behind Churchill's shadow.

"You speak as if you envied him." How his Emma could see him. Let it be then, and tell her why.

"And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he is the object of my envy." This was spoken with a fatal heart, for he knew she would ask why. But Emma held herself in silence and would not question him. "You will not ask me what is the point of envy. You are determined I see to have no curiosity. You are wise, but I cannot be wise Emma. I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the next moment." He did not believe until that moment that Emma may have discovered his feelings and kept silent out of pity and respect. He was here for Emma and would have borne humility and humiliation for his friend, but he could not take her pity. That was too much even for Knightley.

"Oh! Then don't speak it! Take a little time, consider, do not commit yourself!"

Knightley closed his eyes. She knew then, she knew all this time and yet said nothing. She probably did it for his sake and what fool he was to think he could fool the object of his love. She must have seen his jealousy with Frank Churchill and witnessed his obvious deficiencies against a younger and fairer rival. But was kind enough to treat him as she always had, with friendship, humor and respect long established before he was foolish enough to fall in love. She is wiser, he thought, than I could ever be. His dear Emma cared for him and was strong enough to bear this knowledge, unlike himself, a coward who ran away to London.

"Thank you," he whispered humbly and turned towards the house escorting Emma back. He never let go of her hand as they approached the house. She turned to him.

"I should like to take another turn. Mr. Perry is not gone. I stopped you ungraciously just now, Mr. Knightley, and I am afraid, gave you pain. But if you have any wish to speak openly to me as a friend, or to ask my opinion of anything that you may have in contemplation as a friend indeed you may command me. I will hear whatever you like, I will tell you exactly what I think."

And you will, won't you Emma, Knightley gazed upon her. As a friend how I would love to command you to love me back. But I cannot and you will not obey even if I did. You are all grown now and a woman with common sense and goodness that saw my foolishness before I did. And you tried to spare me from this, I can only apologize for failing you in this one endeavor, but I will fail you no longer. Let this poison be gone and let the friendship between us be as it once was, even though my heart will break.

He smiled at her and told her, "As a friend! Emma that I fear is a word-no, I have no wish. Stay? yes, why should I hesitate? I have gone too far already for concealment. Emma, I accept your offer, extraordinary as it may seem, I accept it. And refer myself to you as a friend. Tell me then, have I no chance of ever succeeding?" He heard his voice lose its lightness and the sadness slither in at the end of his declaration. Let this be done!

"My dearest Emma, for dearest you will be. Whatever the event of this hour's conversation, my dearest, most beloved Emma-tell me at once. Say 'No' if it is to be said." Her silence matched his thoughts and he let go of her hand. "Absolutely silent! At present I ask no more." But then he did, for he was not a coward as he believed himself to be and Knightley recommended himself once more for hope, dear hope would not die underneath his fears.

"I cannot make speeches Emma. If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am. You hear nothing but truth from me. I have blamed you, lectured you and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it. Bear with the truths I tell you now, dearest Emma, as well as you have borne them. The manner, perhaps may have as little to recommend them. God knows, I have been a very indifferent lover, But you understand me. Yes, you see, you understand my feelings, and will return them if you can. At present I ask only to hear, once to hear your voice."

He spoke his truth right there in the garden, not covered by his age or his misbegotten beliefs in his short-comings, but from the one glimmer of hope that Emma at least, as a friend, would treat him better than he treated himself. That he had faith she would do him some kindness and end his misery. He raised his eyes to hers, now a student to a teacher, a role that was to him so strange, and Emma did not fail him. She smiled once at him, and this time he saw the brilliancy in it and he wondered if what he saw was what he wished or what was true. She led him around the garden, but this stroll was nothing like the previous one and in thirty minutes Knightley felt the world underneath him again. So much so that if he could have spared a thought besides his dear sweet Emma, he would have thought Frank Churchill to be an excellent man. But he did not spare a thought outside of his good fortune and for days afterwards he continuously made apologies to those around him for his carelessness. But no one thought him at fault and humored the man in love.

Well, that's the last time she ever took those ninnies seriously! Why the evidence is so clear that Mary almost laughed out loud. She is the newest addition of kitchen maids in the Woodhouse troupe and thought herself fortunate. The master was a bit of a pain but Lady Emma was the sweetest, wittiest and kindest girl Mary ever had the good fortune to serve. She came in a month ago and paid strict attention to everyone. One evening when she was first in the kitchen she heard the servants gossip, and how Mary loved gossip!

"Why Mr. Knightly is a good landlord for sure. You would have to live two lifetimes to meet such a man. But he is not a gent, especially the Town kind." stated the cook.

The steward agreed "Unfortunately he ain't. Too tall, too brown and look at 'is hands. No gentleman of name would treat 'is hands like that! At least ee would wear gloves to hide 'em! 'is hair is too long and ee doesn't 'ven get it cut in London! I think one of 'is footmen actually trims it. But you're right, 'e's a kind man for sure and treats the master and the miss rightly."

The stablehand, who admired Knightley like Lancelot, defended the poor man. "Too tall? Well you can't 'ardly blame him for that you know! And he ain't too brown. He's just naturally dark lik'em Spanish...maybe he got some Italian blood in 'em." The snickers of reproof shot that defense down quickly. But the stablehand valiantly went on. "And he saved Mr. Pitter's field remember? When the river flooded that Autumn and was going to destroy all of Mr. Pitter's crop? Why Mr. Knightley took off his coat he did, and started to help 'em put up that dam. I swear you won't see a finer and stronger gentleman than that!"

"But that's why he ain't a gent," reasoned Jenna, "Not like a real one like that Churchill fella. Now there's a man bred for position. Head like a god, and dressed in the finest. And you KNOW he went to London to get his hair trimmed. And he's such a handsome fellow. He and Miss Emma can turn any heads, even in London, and I tell ya he had an inklin' for our miss. Who wouldn't? I for one would be in the best mood when he comes into his own and proposes to the Miss."

The general consent was obvious to Mary and this piqued her curiosity. So much that she made an effort to see this Churchill fella. They were right, he was good-lookin', the kind you wanna keep close to home, but she wasn't too impressed, simply because he seemed to be very impressed with himself. And it wasn't until today that she saw Knightley and thus her judgment made, she condemned all the rest of the servants, except for the stablehand as fools. For her thirty-seven years on this hard world she never saw a man half as handsome or such a gent as Mr. Knightley, who stood by Miss Emma.