Posted on Wednesday, 14 June 2000

The much desired moment finally came and he was able to find solace in the abandoned silence of the sheared fields. The harvesting season was always a hectic time for Donwell, but Knightley had been long used to the unnerving strain and the ungodly hours since John left the estate to his care nearly thirty years ago. The graying head turned to the amber sun, its fiery glare dissipated under the cloudy sky. He would have liked to close his eyes, but was afraid if he did, he would not have the strength to open them again.

I have so much to look after. The town has labored under tremendous strain since the drought. Thank G-d rain finally came, but Highbury will never be able to boast the same number of residents before the crop failures. Two days, it will take us two days to transport the harvest to Mr. Wren. I hope he keeps his consideration and gives the price he promised us. Highbury needs the money so desperately.

He moved his shoulders and felt a clawing ache tighten its hold on the right blade. He winced, the injury was almost five years old, but its pain was as fresh as the scent of cut wheat. However, the ache in his heart had greater influence as he remembered what he had to do in the aftermath of the accident. Knightley was forced to shoot Astra after the horse broke its leg during the fall. George tried his best to set its leg straight, but the animal had gone mad with pain and wouldn't let anyone come near her, even Knightley. In the end, instead of watching the horse bleed to death, Knightley took his rifle and shot his beloved Astra.

Emma named her. Astra, a star because the colt had a star marking on its forehead. She used to come to the stables and watch Astra's training. She even chose the first saddle for the steed. G-d, it was hideous tooling of leather.

The thought brought a smile to the darkened face and Knightley shook his head in amusement. He remembered how angry he was when he discovered the price Emma paid for the ungainly and uncomfortable saddle.

Yet she bought it for me. Even had my initials engraved because the merchant told her all gentlemen's saddles have the owners' initials proudly displayed on the side. Where is that appalling thing? I haven't seen it in years. I think either Samuel or his daughter could use it. If they could turn a blind eye to its less charming attributes.

The thought of the young child made him remember memories he was able to shelve away until nightfall. He closed his eyes now, his fears overwhelmed by the sadness.

Elizabeth would be the same age. She would have brown hair though, like her mother. Would it have curled like Emma's did when she was a child? Or would the poor girl have suffered by inheriting my looks instead? Did Elizabeth have blue eyes? I can't remember...no, the baby never opened her eyes. And neither did Emma.

A slight sound from behind Knightley woke him from his reverie and he turned around, expecting to see a servant from Donwell coming to fetch him for supper. There was no one. He returned his attention to the vista ahead of him. This was the first occasion he could recall Emma's passing without falling into anger.

I never thought I would survive Emma. She was younger and vibrant with health. Everyone believed the birth would be without difficulties. Even the doctor thought both Emma and the baby would survive. I also served that delusion, until the end. When nothing could be done for either my daughter or my wife. I didn't even have the chance to grieve. Only enough time to plant the headstones and return to work. Grief makes poor ingredient for nobility, martyrdom even less when there are mouths to feed and fields to take care of.

A cough-like noise caught his attention and Knightley turned around once more. He saw a child then, small and dark with eyes filled with tears.

"What has happened?" He asked, trying to recall whose daughter she was.

"I am lost." The girl sobbed between her fingers.

"I understand," Knightley gently replied and went to his knees so the girl would not find his height daunting. "If you desire, I can help you return to your home. Only if you believe you need such help. I am sure a grown lady such as yourself would hardly require my services."

"I don't know where my home is."

"Then we have a difficult road ahead."

"I think I crossed two of those."

"Where?"

The little girl turned around and pointed into the woods.

"You came from there?"

"Yes, I think."

"Will your parents be looking for you?" Knightley asked as he began to understand the hopelessness of helping the girl return to her home. Her parents should be looking for the child by now. She looked well fed and dressed comfortably, even had a woolen shawl draped across her tiny shoulders.

"I hope so." The girl replied, her high voice slightly irate at his question.

Knightley hid his smile behind his hand and gave a nod of apology.

"Well then, I am sure they will come looking for you at Donwell. That is where I live."

"Donwell? My mother said it stood empty."

"It did for a little while, but that was long ago. Are your parents new to Highbury?"

"No, I was born here."

Knightley's attention deepened, "Really? I thought I knew everyone in town."

The girl shrugged a little and the shawl slipped from her shoulders. Knightley was returning the cover to its original place when the pattern of the shawl caught his eye.

"What is wrong?" The girl asked fearfully.

"Where did you get this?"

"My mother gave it to me."

"I...when I went to London once, I bought Emma such a shawl. The pattern of flowers...she was ecstatic over the gift. It was the first piece of clothing from London Emma had ever possessed. She wore it all the time, even singed it because she sat too close..."

His fingers dipped into numbness as he saw the familiar scar on the fabric.

"To the fireplace." The girl finished the sentence for him. "Mother told me that story many times."

"Who are you?" Knightley whispered.

"I am Elizabeth Emma Knightley."

"That is not possible."

"Mother sent me to find you, father. She says our new place needs to be harvested and that only you can do it properly. She says there is no one who knows how to manage land like you, father."

"This is not possible."

"But it is. We live right across the woods. Come, I can show you. Mother says your time here is done now and that you can come home. Highbury will do well after this season; the hard times are over now for everyone. And for you too, father."

"Is the journey long?"

"No, it's brief and the walk is fair. Mother would not let me ride my pony because the woods are filled with uneven ground."

"Emma was right to say that. She rode her pony one day and injured herself dearly."

"Yes, mother told me that story too."

"Did she talk about me?"

"Yes, she did, every day and every night. Father, the sun is almost down. It will be dangerous if we go into the woods without light. Shall we?"

"Yes, Elizabeth, let's go home."

Knightley turned once more to see the golden fields and the amber sun. His work was done and Emma was waiting. Best to go home and not give her time to worry too much about his welfare or that of their beloved daughter's.

The End.