Emma (1996) Script

Ho! Ho, there! Stop thief!


There is still time to reconsider, my dear Miss Taylor.

Come back home with us.

James will not mind turning around and nobody would take it amiss.

Papa, Mr Weston would take it very much amiss!

Dear Mr Woodhouse, you are very kind.

I shall miss Hartfield.

But I am very happy to become Mr Weston's wife. Truly I am.

It's all very disturbing, Emma.

Six good hens, and now Miss Taylor.

It's a sad business. Morning!

Good morning.

Repeat after me, I, William Francis Weston... I, William Francis Weston...

..take thee, Anna Taylor... ..take thee, Anna Taylor...

Poor Miss Taylor.

Oh, Father...

What a pity it is that Mr Weston ever thought of her.

But, Father, you wouldn't have Miss Taylor live with us for ever, when she could have a house of her own.

It's been a long time since I needed a governess.

She will never see us now.

Randalls is such a distance.

It's barely half a mile, Father.

Depend upon it, we shall see Mrs Weston nearly every day.

But I take it very ill when people get married and go away.

I think they should not do it.

Will you play at backgammon, Father?

Why will people call at such a late hour?

There you are.

How are you, Thomas, and your family?

Very well, Mr Knightley. Thank you, sir.

Well? How did it go?

I'm sorry to have missed it. How did you all behave?

Who cried most?

Ah, poor Miss Taylor. Poor Mr Woodhouse.

Poor Miss Woodhouse, if you like. But I can't say poor Miss Taylor.

At the very least, she has only one to please now, not two.

Especially when one of those two is such a fanciful troublesome creature?

Perhaps. I'm afraid that's very true.

I believe I am sometimes very fanciful and troublesome.

Dearest Papa, I didn't mean you!

Mr Knightley didn't mean you. I meant only myself.

Mr Knightley loves to find fault with me. Oh, dear!

In a joke. It is all a joke. Ah. Yes, of course.

We always say what we like to one another.

Well, you want to hear about the wedding. We all behaved charmingly.

Everybody punctual, everybody in their best looks.

Not a tear, and hardly a long face, to be seen.

Dear Emma bears everything so well.

But every friend of Miss Taylor's must be glad to see her married.

And you've forgotten one matter ofjoy to me, that I made the match myself.

You made a lucky guess, Emma. That's all.

I wish you would not make matches, my dear, for whatever you say always comes to pass.

Pray, do not make any more of them, Emma.

I promise to make none for myself, Papa, but I must indeed for other people.

Poor Mr Elton, now. I must look about for a wife for him.

You'd do better to leave the poor man alone, Emma.

But he has been here a whole year and he has fitted out the vicarage so comfortably.

It'd be a shame to have him single any longer.

Shh!


Harriet Smith?

She's somebody's natural daughter, you know.

She seems a very sweet, genteel girl. Indeed she is.

She is just now returned to the school as parlour boarder.

She spent the summer at her friends' house, in the country.

It would be good for her to have the benefit of more...varied society.

Would you like to send her on Tuesday to my father's whist party?

Oh, Miss Woodhouse! That is very kind.

I should be glad to know her better.

Mrs Bates, let me propose you venturing on one of these eggs.

An egg boiled very soft, you know, is not unwholesome.

Mr Perry is not altogether against eggs, are you, Mr Perry?

Against eggs? No indeed! A soft-boiled egg will do you no harm.

There you are, Mrs Bates. Mr Perry says it is all right.

Indeed, she dearly loves a fresh egg softly boiled.

I think she does not hear, Miss Bates.

Mr Knightley was so good as to let us have three dozen of his very best fresh-laid eggs.

Serle understands boiling an egg better than anybody.

When his man, William Larkins, brought them around, he said that Mr Knightley is left without an egg!

I would not recommend an egg boiled by anybody else! lmagine! No eggs at Donwell Abbey! But then, he is so very generous.

You need not be afraid.

These are very small, you see?

One of our small eggs will not hurt you.

I think she does not hear, Miss Bates.

Allow me to help you, Mrs Bates.

Thank you so much, Mr Elton. You're very, very kind.

They have eight cows, two of them Alderneys and one a Welsh cow, a pretty little Welsh cow, and Mrs Martin said as I was so fond of it, it should be called my cow.

Do you know the Martins, Miss Woodhouse? Mr Martin knows you by sight very well.

His farm is very near to Donwell. Then they must be Mr Knightley's tenants.

I may have seen Mr Martin fifty times without having any idea of his name.

A young farmer's not at all the sort of person to raise my curiosity.

No. No, I suppose not.

But they have two parlours - two very good parlours.

Indeed?

Well, these Martins must feel very proud to entertain a gentleman's daughter.

I do not know that my father is a gentleman, Miss Woodhouse.

Oh, I'm quite sure he is.

But, even so, and particularly bearing in mind the misfortune of your birth, you should be very careful whom you choose as your friends.

Oh? Do you think so?

I'm quite sure of it.

Miss Smith, what do you say to a little bit of apple tart?

A very little bit. Let Emma help you to a very little bit of apple tart.

No, no, no. Allow me.

Thank you, Mr Elton.

How can I ever thank you enough, Miss Woodhouse, for showing me where true joy was to be found?

Mrs Elton and I are eternally indebted to you.

And to think that I should turn out to be the daughter of a baronet!

Why not? Stranger things have happened.

I do so wonder that you should not be married, so charming as you are.

I must find other people charming. One person, at least.

I have very little intention of ever marrying at all.

Dear me!

Why should I? I lack neither fortune nor consequence.

If I were to fall in love, that would be different.

But I have never been in love. It is not my way or my nature.

Then to be an old maid at last, like Miss Bates?

If I thought I should ever be like Miss Bates, I would marry tomorrow.

Oh, Miss Woodhouse, there is Mr Martin. Oh, really?

I never thought to meet you walking here, Miss Smith.

Oh, dear.

Perhaps I should...

Excuse me... No, no. Please. I shall wait for you, Harriet.


Only think of our happening to meet him!

Oh, Miss Woodhouse, please say what you think of him.

Do you think him so very plain?

He is very plain, undoubtedly.

But that is nothing compared with his entire lack of gentility.

I did not expect much, but I had no idea he could be so very clownish, so totally without air.

To be sure, he is not so genteel as real gentlemen.

Indeed no.

Consider Mr Knightley.

Consider Mr Elton.

Certainly, he is not like Mr Knightley, but Mr Knightley is so very fine a man.

And Mr Elton, who has paid you such particular attentions.

You must see the difference.

Yes. I suppose there is a great difference.

And I think Mr Elton is becoming very fond of you.

Harriet, have you ever had your likeness taken?

My likeness?

Don't you think she makes a charming picture?

Oh, yes. Indeed. You have given Miss Smith all that she required.

She was a beautiful creature when she came to you, but you have made her graceful and easy.

Oh, no. No. She only wanted drawing out.

Oh, I shall never do justice to her.

Do you see, Mr Elton?

Her features are so delicate and yet... there's a peculiarity in the shape of the eyes and the mouth.

Exactly. And that's just what you've caught.

There she is, to the very life.

Mr Elton, I've scarcely begun!

Oh, but these are excellent!

No, no. Nothing like. You will see when they come.

My sister, Isabella, and her children.

They would never keep still.

Her husband, Mr John Knightley.

He's not so bad, but Isabella said it didn't do him justice, so I resolved to give up portraits for ever, at least where there are husbands and wives.

Ah, yes. But there are no husbands and wives in this case.

Or should I say...not at present?

Perfection.

Absolute perfection.

Miss Smith has not those eyebrows, I think. Oh, no.

I cannot agree with you.

You've made her too tall, Emma. Oh, no. Certainly not too tall.

Consider, she is sitting down. And the proportions, you know, must be preserved.

It's very pretty. But, my dear, she seems to be sitting out of doors with only a shawl over her shoulders.

It makes one think she must catch cold.

But, Papa, it's supposed to be summer. A warm day in summer. Look at the tree.

I regard it as a most happy thought, the placing of Miss Smith out of doors.

And the tree is touched with such inimitable spirit.

Miss Woodhouse, might I appeal for the commission of getting the picture framed?

If you would trust me with it, I could ride to London at any time.

No. No, I will be bold and insist that you entrust it to no-one but me.

Oh, Miss Woodhouse! You will never guess. He has proposed!

Already?

Are you quite sure?

Yes. He says so quite clearly in this letter.

Oh, Miss Woodhouse, what am I to do?

But this letter is from Mr Robert Martin.

Yes! Didn't I say that?

Do you think it is a good letter?

Is it too short?

No, it is a good letter. A very good letter.

Much better than I should have expected.

So...how should I reply?

Oh, Miss Woodhouse, please advise me.

Oh, no. The letter had much better be all your own.

But your meaning must be quite clear.

No doubts or demurs. You need not elaborate on your sorrow at his disappointment.

You think I ought to refuse him, then?

Harriet! Are you in any doubt?

I had no notion he liked me so very much.

I lay it down as a general rule, Harriet, that if a woman doubts she certainly ought to refuse him.

But do not imagine I want to influence you. Oh, no! I'm sure.

But if you would just advise me what I had best...

I don't mean that.

As you say, one's mind ought to be quite made up.

Do you think I had better say no?

Harriet, you must be the best judge of your own happiness.

Do you truly prefer Mr Martin to every other man you've ever met?

Harriet...

Harriet, do not deceive yourself.

Do not be run away with by gratitude and compassion.

Miss Woodhouse, as you won't give me your opinion...

I think...

Yes.

I have now quite determined and have almost made up my mind.

To refuse Mr Martin.

Do you think I am right?

Perfectly, perfectly right.

Dearest Harriet!

Now I can tell you what I could not tell you before, because I would not influence you.

Had you accepted him, I would have lost my friend.

I could not have visited Mrs Robert Martin of Abbey Mill Farm.

Now I'm secure of you for ever.

She refused him?

Yes.

Harriet Smith refused Robert Martin?

Yes.

Then she's a greater simpleton than I thought! What is the foolish girl about?

A man imagines a woman to be ready for anyone who asks her.

Nonsense! A man does not imagine any such thing.

I hope you are mistaken.

I saw her answer. Nothing could be clearer.

You saw her answer?

You wrote her answer!

Emma, this is your doing. You persuaded her to refuse him.

And if I did, I should not feel that I'd done wrong!

Mr Martin is a very respectable young man, I am sure, but he is not Harriet's equal.

No, he's not. He's her superior, in both sense and situation!

Harriet Smith is the natural daughter of nobody knows whom.

A girl with no connections, a parlour boarder at a common school!

She's been taught nothing useful.

She's pretty, she is good-tempered, and that is all!

My only scruple in recommending the match to Robert Martin...

You recommended it? Yes, I did.

My only scruple was on his account.

I felt he could do much better both as to fortune and as to securing a useful helpmate.

But I could not reason so to a man so much in love!

And depend upon it, he had encouragement from her.

She may have been inclined towards him at one time, but the case is altered now.

She knows now what a gentleman is and only a gentleman has any chance with her.

That is nonsense! That is arrant nonsense!

You're not thinking of Elton?

Are you?

If you are, depend upon it, Elton won't do.

He may talk sentimentally, but he will act rationally. He knows the value of a good income.

Harriet Smith has no chance there!

I have no intention of marrying Harriet to anybody.

You have done your friend no favours, Emma.

You have spoilt her best chance of happiness.

It was badly done, and I am sorry for it.

Good day to you.

You are wrong, Mr Knightley, and you will see you are wrong and then you will be sorry.

Hu-zaah!

I beg you would not toss them so high. Nonsense! The higher the better.

Run for your uncle as fast as you can. Fee, fi, fo, fum!

Yes!

Papa is distressed.

Well, well. That'll do. No more.

Take them away, Betty. Off with them, Jane. No, Papa!

No, no, no.

No more. Say good night to your grandpapa, sir.

My little Emma should stay a while. Aye, she makes no noise.

You look well thus, Emma.

Good night.

Good night.

Now, then, sir. Shall we take you and your little horse to bed?

Yes, we will, sir!

Yes, we will!

Night night, sir.

I held you thus, once upon a time. You and I must not be enemies.

No. You may do wrong and I may be angry with you, but you and I shall never be enemies.

You forget that I have not been proved wrong.

But I do hope that Mr Martin is not very disappointed.

A man could not be more so.

Then, indeed, I am very sorry.

No, Isabella, there is no avoiding it.

Mr and Mrs Weston have invited me and we must go.

Christmas Eve or not, whatever the weather.

She is a bride, and the visit must be paid, I do believe.

Whatever the consequences!

Mr Weston must have have a very good opinion of himself.

Asking people to leave their own fireside in the depths of winter just for the sake of coming to see him.

He must think himself a most agreeable fellow.

Go slowly, James! Go carefully!

And here we are, setting forward to spend five dull hours in another man's house, going in dismal weather, to return probably in worse.

Actually snowing at this moment, and more to come.

Four horses and four servants taken out for nothing but to convey four shivering creatures into colder rooms and worse company than they might have had at home.

But you must know we're sure of excellent fires and everything in the greatest comfort.

Here's the parson.

He looks keen enough.

My dear sir!

Words cannot express my gratitude.

On such a night as this. A Christmas party! Nothing could be pleasanter.

Miss Woodhouse, this is an honour! Nay, a delight!

Well, get yourself in, man, and get the door shut. And the less said, the better.

A very happy gathering indeed.

We want only two more to be just the right number, your pretty friend Miss Smith - a bad sore throat.

Oh, dear.

Has Perry been called? Yes. And recommends she stay in bed.

What a shame for her. And a sad loss for us.

Indeed. And my son, Frank.

I had thought that Frank would be here for Christmas, but it was not to be.

So, to absent friends.

Absent friends.

I'm beginning to fear I shall never meet the famous Mr Frank Churchill.

No, no, you are wrong, for he has promised to be with us in two weeks' time.

Frank is the son of my first marriage, Mr Elton.

His poor mother died when he was but two years old and her family undertook his care and education, and in gratitude, he took their name. A good deal of money in it, I dare say.

What age is the young man, now? He is three and twenty.

And, though I say it myself, as fine a young man as anyone could wish to see.

My only complaint is that Mrs Churchill keeps him at her beck and call in Yorkshire, so he cannot be here as often as he would wish.

Indeed, for I have never yet set eyes on him.

He should have come before this.

To speak bluntly, ma'am, it is his plain duty to his father and to you.

Well, I forgive him.

It is a delicate business.

Mrs Churchill rules at Enscombe and she's a very odd-tempered woman.

And his coming now depends on her being willing to spare him.

That is the young man in question. Frank to the very life.

Then he is very handsome, is he not, Mr Elton?

I hardly know. Appearances may often deceive.

As is well known, I intend never to marry.

But I confess, if I were to change my mind, I have always thought Mr Frank Churchill might be the man.

By all accounts, he seems to be the very epitome of manly excellence.

Apart from his disinclination to exert himself and do what he knows to be right.

Mr Knightley, isn't it very unfair to judge a person when we do not know his situation?

He may be unable to do what he truly wishes.

There is one thing a man can always do if he chooses and that is his duty.

If he truly willed it, he could be here tomorrow.

You seem determined to think ill of him.

I? Not at all.

He's a person I never think of from one month's end to another.

How well she looks tonight.

As to her beauty, she always looks well, but as to her character...

Come, Mr Knightley.

With all her faults, you know she is an excellent creature.

Perhaps she is. But she thinks she has nothing to learn.

I should like to see her in love and in some doubt of a return.

Would you? Really?

It would do her good.

The snow is lying three inches deep.

Still coming down hard. A spirited beginning for your winter engagements, Mr Woodhouse.

Oh! Isabella. Emma. Emma?

What can we do?

I'm sure it's not so very bad, Papa.

I admired your determination in setting out, and I dare say we shall get home alive.

We are two carriages. If one is blown over, there will be the other at hand.

Your rugs are here, Papa.

Mrs Weston, how can I thank you for such a splendid evening?

Miss Woodhouse. We meet at last.

Emma?

Mr John Knightley went in the first carriage, with Mrs Knightley and your father.

I am to have the pleasure of escorting you.

Oh, thank you.

It seems a pity that our party had to...Mr Elton!

Forgive me. I must... I must avail myself of this God-given opportunity to tell you what I'm sure you must already know, that I adore you, worship you, passionately!

Mr Elton, please! Forgive me. I can't help myself!

Dearest Miss Woodhouse, Emma, release me from torment.

Tell me you return my love.

Tell me you will be my wife and make me the happiest man on earth!

Oh, Emma! I read my answer in your eyes!

Mr Elton! I am astonished! No. No.

I am sure you cannot be, lovely as you are.

Mr Elton, I think you must have drunk too much of Mr Weston's good wine.

You have forgot yourself.

I am not Miss Smith. But I shall be happy to take any message to her.

Miss Smith? What should I have to do with Miss Smith? What do I care about her?

Who can think of Miss Smith when Miss Woodhouse is near?

No. No, you are all loveliness and modesty, but I'm sure you could not have mistaken my intentions.

No, indeed, you could not.

Charming Miss Woodhouse, allow me to interpret this...interesting silence.

It confesses that you have long understood me.

Does it not?

Lovely, lovely Miss Woodhouse.

No, sir! It confesses no such thing!

I have seen you only as the admirer of my friend!

In no other light could you have been more to me than an acquaintance.

After all your attentions to Miss Smith!

Do you ask me to believe you have never thought of her?

Miss Smith? I, think seriously of Miss Smith?

No doubt there are men who might not object.

Everyone has their level. But I am not, I think, quite so much at a loss!

No, madam.

My visits have been for yourself only, after all the encouragement I received!

Encouragement!

Sir, you've been entirely mistaken in supposing it!

I'm exceedingly sorry, but it's as well the mistake ends here.

I trust your disappointment will not be lasting. I have no thoughts of matrimony at present.

Good night, Mr Elton.

Good night.

Oh, Harriet!

Harriet!

Stand up now, gentlemen, please.

It is all my fault.

Oh, Harriet, can you ever forgive me?

There is nothing to forgive.

Dear, dear Miss Woodhouse, I have nothing to complain of.

I could never have deserved such a man as Mr Elton.

No, indeed. For now I believe he does not deserve you.

I'm heartily ashamed of myself and I'm determined to mend my ways.

Oh, Miss Woodhouse, I am sure no-one would ever blame you.

Well, if you forgive me, then I am not entirely cast down.

I was going to Ford's, would you walk with me? Yes.

Miss Woodhouse!

Oh, Lord. Miss Bates...

Forgive me. I could not help but see you. Jane is here!

Yes. She arrived this morning. Mother and I would take it so kindly if you would step up.

Miss Smith too, if you would, Miss Smith. That is very kind but...

Thank you, but we cannot stay long.

Jane will be beside herself with joy.

I doubt it.

Mrs Goddard told me that Miss Fairfax is to stay in Highbury with her aunt till summer.

What is she like, Miss Woodhouse?

Jane Fairfax is a penniless orphan who has been brought up in some style by Colonel Campbell as a companion to his daughter.

But now the daughter's married and so Jane must find employment.

Everyone speaks highly of her. I wish her well, but I am sick of the very name of her.

Oh, Miss Woodhouse!

It was such a surprise! We thought Colonel Campbell would need the carriage, and he would never send dear Jane post.

But, as it turned out, they all went off to lreland two days early.

Indeed? Are the whole family gone, Miss Fairfax?

Yes. They are in... Bally-craig. A beautiful place, I fancy.

Miss Campbell is married to Mr Dixon now, so I should call her Mrs Dixon, but I forget.

We should call Miss Campbell Mrs Dixon now, Mother, should we not?

She's only a very little deaf, you know? She always hears what Jane says.

But then Jane always speaks so distinct.

Mr Dixon always thought so highly of Jane.

In the end, I believe they are very happy, and both very fond of Jane.

We thought she would go with them.

Jane has heard so much about the beauty of the place from Mr Dixon.

Jane used very often to be walking out with them.

He is a most amiable, charming young man.

Jane was quite longing to go to lreland from his account of things.

But you did not go with them after all? I thought it better I should not.

I shall have to earn my bread sooner or later and so resolved that the sooner I made up my mind, the less pain I should inflict.

Or endure.

Mr...and Mrs Dixon must have been very disappointed.

Indeed, I think they must have been. Nothing could have been more kind.

Mr Dixon does not seem backward in any attention.

He is a most charming young man. Ever since the service he rendered Jane at Weymouth.

Please, Aunt.

No, you will not mind my telling it to Miss Woodhouse and Miss Smith.

Poor Jane nearly met with a terrible calamity.

They were out on the water in a boating party, Jane, Mr Dixon and Miss Campbell, for thus she was then.

And I think they had gone out rather far, for a squall blew up, and poor Jane, from a sudden whirling around of something or other among the sails would have been dashed into the sea at once!

Take my hand!

Be careful!

..and ever since we had the history of that day, I have been so fond of Mr Dixon.

Oh, what a shocking tale!

But one with a happy ending.


No-one is better than Jane. Mr Dixon would not allow that even his fiancée was Jane's equal.

She does play and sing infuriatingly well.

I've rarely heard anything to equal her.

Certainly not from me.

As you say.

But you will not take the pains to aspire to true excellence.

She would make a good companion for you.

I'm sure you're right, but I cannot warm to her. I don't know why.

I wish I could, but I can't.

Perhaps because you see in her the truly accomplished young lady you would like to be thought yourself?

You will make me quite ashamed of myself.

Did you enjoy the music, Mrs Bates?

She's only a very little deaf, you know. Beautifully played.

Did not you think so, Miss Woodhouse? Oh, yes!

Mrs Weston tells me Mr Frank Churchill was at Weymouth.

Would he have been there at the same time as you?

Yes, I think he was, for some of the time.

And were you acquainted with him?

Did you have any conversation? We were a little acquainted.

I have to tell you, he is a young gentleman in whom I have the keenest interest.

You know, he is Mr Weston's son and we expect a visit from him very soon.

We've never seen him in Highbury.

Tell me, what is he really like? Is he handsome?

I believe he's reckoned to be a fine young man.

And is he agreeable?

He is generally thought so.

But what did you think of him?

When one's in company all the time at such a place as Weymouth, it is difficult to form a just impression.

I think everybody found his manners pleasing.

I see I shall have to be content with that.

And all this is Mr Knightley's?

Of course. There is Donwell Abbey.

And all these farms belong to the Donwell estate.

And everyone who lives here is a tenant of Mr Knightley's, or his servant.

I should never have thought that one man could own so much.

The sparrows and the skylarks don't belong to Mr Knightley, do they?

Perhaps not, but the woodcock and the pheasant certainly do. Drive on!

Don't you think it is pretty and well-kept, Miss Woodhouse?

Very well-kept.

Oh, dear. Now the time is come, I feel so very strange.

Not quite easy about seeing the Martins after...

But I must be sensible.

Yes, you must, Harriet.

Tell your friends you are only able to stay fifteen minutes. There will be no danger in that.

Yes.

Drive on, James, to the end of the lane and turn the carriage.


It was not quite comfortable at first.

Then Mrs Martin said she thought I'd grown since the summer.

We went to see the marks on the wainscot where Mr Martin had measured us all, and they measured me again and Mrs Martin said she thought I'd grown a good half inch!

And we were all beginning to be like ourselves again.

And just at the end, what do you think?

Mr Martin himself came in!

And what then? Oh, nothing.

He excused himself for being dirty and went away to wash himself.

And then it was time for me to come away.

Ah, Miss Woodhouse.

Emma. Allow me to present to you my son.

Mr Frank Churchill.

Miss Woodhouse.

We meet at last.

I was extremely happy to meet Mrs Weston.

I was sure I would like her from her letters, but I didn't expect to see such beauty.

I had imagined, well, a tolerably well-looking woman of a certain age, I didn't expect to see a pretty young woman.

Mr Churchill, you couldn't praise her too highly for me, but you mustn't let Mrs Weston hear you speaking of her as a pretty young woman.

I hope I should know better.

I know whom I might praise without being thought extravagant in my terms.

I must be going. I have business at the Crown.

But I needn't hurry anybody else. No, if you have business, sir, perhaps I should pay a visit, which must be paid at some time.

A neighbour of yours, the name is Fairfax?

But I believe the family are called Barnes. Or Bates?

Of course we know Mrs Bates.

We passed by the house. Miss Bates was at the window.

Miss Fairfax, of course, you met at Weymouth. A fine girl. Call upon her, by all means.

It is of little matter. Another day would do as well.

There was that degree of acquaintance at Weymouth.

Go today. What's right to be done cannot be done too soon.

If you don't call early, it will be a slight.

Nothing for it, then.

I hope that you will have time to introduce me to Highbury, Miss Woodhouse, and show me all the points of interest.

This is the Crown Inn.

That looks a fine room on the first floor. One could hold a very good ball there, I should say.

I believe it was a ballroom many years ago.

Then we must revive it, restore its former glory.

Are you fond of dancing? Oh, very fond indeed.

But there are too few young people in the village, now, to hold a dance.

Surely not. I'm sure we shall find enough.

Even if we have to send out as far as Leatherhead.

No, a ball there shall be. And you and I shall dance at it.

And there's the Bates' house.

You see? I am getting to be quite at home in Highbury already.

Did you pay your visit yesterday? Yes.

Oh, yes. I was just going to mention it. I thought it would never end.

Ten minutes would have sufficed, but there was no getting away.

The talking aunt, you know. I was there three quarters of an hour.

How did you think Miss Fairfax looked? Oh.

Very ill.

If ladies can be allowed to look ill.

A most deplorable want of complexion.

No, I won't allow that.

Miss Fairfax has her own style of beauty, perhaps it's not to your taste.

Yes, perhaps that's it. Yes.

I believe you're right.

Did you see her often at Weymouth?

Were you often in the same society? Ah! This must be Ford's.

That everybody attends every day of their lives.

Let's go in, then I can prove myself a true citizen of Highbury.

I must buy something at Ford's. I dare say they sell gloves.

Oh, yes. Lay out half a guinea in Ford's and you'll be adored by all Highbury.

What more delights does Highbury have in store for me?

I fear we are coming to the end of them.

This is Mr Elton's house.

It's rather small, of course, but quite suitable for him.

Mr Elton is the vicar and considered by some to be a very fine young man.

I know a good deal of Mr Elton, though I've never met him.

Really? I know he is at present in Bath.

Just recently engaged.

And shortly to be married to a Miss Augusta Hawkins of Bristol, with a fortune of £10,000.

Then you know more than I do. I had it from Miss Bates.

Everybody's full of it, agog to see Mr Elton's bride.

So...this is where they will live.

I think they'll be very snug and happy.

It's a perfectly good house to share with the woman you truly love.

A man would be a blockhead who wanted more.

You can say this? You, who have been used to Enscombe with every degree of luxury.

I care nothing for Enscombe.

What is the good of wealth and luxury where there is no true happiness?

Shall we make the full circle to Randalls?

You see? I have got my bearings.

Thank you, Jane.

This is a handsome instrument.

Do you play, Miss Woodhouse?

Of course. But not very well.

Not nearly as well as Jane Fairfax.

Have you heard her play? Yes. Once or twice at Weymouth.

She appeared to me to play well, but I know nothing of the matter myself.

Though one of the party always preferred Miss Fairfax's playing to that of his fiancée.

So, Mr Dixon is musical, is he?

Yes. Mr and Mrs Dixon were the persons.

I thought it a very strong proof of Miss Fairfax's excellence.

Proof indeed.

But wasn't Miss Fairfax embarrassed at this... preference of Mr Dixon's?

And did he perhaps prefer her in other ways, too?

I...

I really cannot say.

No. Who can tell what Jane Fairfax is feeling? She is so very reserved.

I could never attach myself to anyone so completely reserved.

No. There is safety in reserve, but no attraction.

One cannot love a reserved person.

Father.

I believe I must go to London tomorrow. To London?

Whatever for?

To get his hair cut! I fear he has, Mr Knightley.

Sixteen miles there and sixteen miles back.

I told him he was a coxcomb, but he would not be dissuaded.

Foppery and nonsense!

All young people will have their little whims, Mr Knightley.

I see. He's just the sort of trifling, silly fellow I took him for.

I hope he will not get it cut too short. I'm very much afraid he will catch cold from it.

You will excuse me, now, Mr Woodhouse.

I have some business to attend to, which I postponed to be here.

Doubtless, I shall meet this young man at your party for him.

I bid you all good day.

Mind the windows!

It is a pianoforte, Mother!

This is coming as you should, using your carriage, like a gentleman, instead of walking everywhere.

Lucky we should arrive at the same moment, or you wouldn't have noticed that I am more of a gentleman than usual.

Yes, I should. I'm sure I should. Nonsensical girl!

It was the greatest surprise and really quite the finest you could wish for.

Not a grand, but a large-sized square one, a very elegant-looking instrument.

It arrived just yesterday, without any direction. Jane was quite at a loss who it could be from.

What a mystery!

But now we conclude it could only be from one quarter, do we not, Jane?

For who else could it be from, but Colonel Campbell?

I declare... What are they talking about?

It seems that some mysterious person has made Miss Fairfax the present of a pianoforte.

Why do you smile?

Nay, why do you? I smile because you smile.

Why? Do you suspect something? If Colonel Campbell is not the giver, who can be?

What do you say to Mr Dixon?

I cannot help suspecting he may have had the misfortune to fall in love with her.

You're sure it couldn't have come from the Colonel?

If it was the Colonel, she would have guessed at once and not been puzzled.

I have no doubt at all it was an offering of love.

An offering of love?

You have convinced me.

I believe it was.


Encore, encore.

No, no, I thank you but you've heard quite enough from me.

Miss Fairfax, would you give us the great pleasure of hearing you?

Yes, if you wish, Mr Knightley.

Miss Smith. Keeping well, I trust?

No more throats?

No. I'm well now, thank you, Mr Perry.

I should have been here a week tomorrow, half my time.

I never knew days fly so fast.

Perhaps you now regret spending one of them in having your hair cut?

No, that is no subject of regret.

What's the matter?

Oh...

I was struck by...

Really, Miss Fairfax has done her hair in so very odd a way.

I never saw anything so outré.

I must go and ask her whether it's an lrish fashion.

Shall I? No. No, you shouldn't.

Yes, I will.

You shall see how she takes it, see whether she blushes.

Do excuse me, Miss Bates.

Miss Fairfax.

Could I impose on you to play another? With your leave, sir.

I have been making discoveries, Emma.

Did you know that Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax came here in Mr Knightley's own carriage?

And they're to go home again the same way.

Is that not a very marked attention from Mr Knightley, who never uses his carriage for himself? Yes, it is.

But it is just the sort of kindness I would expect from him.

He is not a gallant man, but he is a very humane one.

What do you say to Mr Knightley and Miss Fairfax?

No! And cut my little nephew Henry out of inheriting Donwell? Never!

Besides, he does not care about Jane Fairfax.

In the way of love, I'm sure he does not.

He is a great admirer of her talents.

What if he should have sent for this pianoforte?

I insist. I absolutely insist.

My dear sir, I must intervene.

If Miss Fairfax says she is tired, we should have the courtesy to believe her.

Would you have her sing herself hoarse?

Come, Miss Fairfax. You have earned a rest.

Thank you.

Miss Woodhouse.

I have come here determined to dance.

Nothing will satisfy me, but that you and I shall show the way.

Will you?

With pleasure.


But what about little Henry?

So obliged to you for your visit.

Jane will be so pleased to show you the new instrument.

Mr Frank Churchill is here already, fastening the rivet of my mother's spectacles.

He really is so very...

Take care, Miss Woodhouse, remember the step at the turning.

Remember the step, Miss Smith, the step at the turning.

Ah.

This is a pleasure.

You find me occupied in trying to be useful.

The pianoforte would not stand steady. You see, we've been wedging it with paper.

Will you try it now, Miss Fairfax? Just a few notes.

Ah, yes. You hear that softness in the upper notes.

Just what those in Mr Dixon's party particularly prized.

I think it is such a fine instrument and suits Jane's style of playing very well.

Mr Dixon, I believe, valued that tone particularly.

It isn't fair. Don't distress her.

What felicity, to hear that tune again.

If I mistake not, that was danced at Weymouth.

Now here's something new.

A set of lrish melodies.

That was thoughtful of whoever sent the instrument.

That betokens true affection, I believe.

Oh, but I'm forgetting.

Our ball is arranged for next Saturday at the Crown.

My father is all enthusiasm.

I have permission from Enscombe to extend my stay, so I hope to see you all there.

And, Miss Woodhouse, I hope it is not too soon to secure you for the first two dances of the evening.

I could almost fancy myself at Maple Grove!

My brother-in-law, Mr Suckling's, seat, you know?

Yes. The morning room there is just such a shape and size as this.

Mr E? Yes, my love?

Is this room not very like the morning room at Maple Grove?

Very like indeed, Augusta.

No-one observes things as you do.

I am extremely partial to Maple Grove.

My brother and sister will be enchanted with this place.

People with extensive grounds always like things in the same style.

When you've seen more of the country, you may think you've overrated Hartfield.

Surrey is full of beauties.

Oh, yes, I am aware of that. It is the garden of England, you know?

Surrey is the garden of England.

Many counties are called the garden of England.

Kent. And Evesham too.

No. I fancy not.

I never heard any county but Surrey called so.

My brother and sister have promised us a visit in the summer.

They will have their barouche-landau, of course, which holds four.

But you will have many parties of that kind, I suppose, Miss Woodhouse.

No. Not many. We are a very quiet set of people.

Well, we must do something about that, must we not, Mr E?

Indeed, Augusta.

We've been calling at Randalls.

Very pleasant people they seem to be. Mr Weston seems an excellent creature.

Quite a first-rate favourite with me already, I assure you.

And Mrs Weston. She was your governess, I think.

I was astonished to find her so ladylike. Quite the gentlewoman.

And who do you think came in while we were there? Knightley! Knightley, himself!

My caro sposo had spoken of "my friend, Knightley".

I declare, he need not be ashamed of his friend. Knightley is quite the gentleman.

And then Jane Fairfax.

Oh, I quite rave about poor Jane Fairfax and I've resolved to do what I can for her.

I shall find a situation for her as a governess.

Insufferable woman!

With her "caro sposo" and her "Mr E".

Actually to discover that Mr Knightley is a gentleman.

I thought she was a very pretty young lady.

Though she speaks a little too quick.

No doubt she will make him a good wife.

But I think he had better not have married.

Come, come, Mr Woodhouse. You mustn't be an enemy to every marriage.

Poor Jane Fairfax, whatever her faults, does not deserve this.

To be pitied and patronised by such a person.

And now she must spend almost every day with the Eltons, with her taste and her pride.

How could she endure it? Perhaps it is better than being always at home.

You're right, Mrs Weston.

Miss Fairfax might well prefer to be invited by others, but she receives attentions from Mrs Elton which no-one else pays her.

She deserves better.

I know how highly you think of Jane Fairfax. Yes.

Anybody may know how highly I think of her.


Mr Churchill, ma'am.

I come as a bearer of evil tidings.

Well, for me they are.

Mrs Churchill is ill. I must leave immediately for Enscombe.

I'm very sorry to hear it. I hope it is not very severe.

Who can tell? It would seem she's far too unwell to do without me.

I dare say I shall arrive at Enscombe and find her quite recovered.

You see how it is.

I cannot refuse to go.

No, of course you cannot.

Of all horrid things, leave-taking is the worst.

But you will come again.

This will not be your only visit to Highbury.

I suppose our poor ball must be quite given up.

For the present. But if and when I get away, we shall have it.

Don't forget your engagement.

No, I promise you that. The first two dances.

It has been such a fortnight.

Every day more precious than the day before.

Every day making me less fit to bear any other place.

And you must be off this very morning?

Yes. My father is to join me here.

We will walk back together, and I must be off.

Not five minutes to spare, even for Miss Fairfax and Miss Bates?

Oh...yes, I have called there.

Passing their door, I thought it the right thing to do.

In short, perhaps, Miss Woodhouse, I think you can hardly be quite without suspicion.

This will be my father.

Better not to disturb Mr Woodhouse.

I hope we shall meet again before too long.

Goodbye.

I have been thinking.

Forgive me, Miss Woodhouse, but... are you very sad that Mr Frank Churchill has had to go away?

I had thought that... Yes, so did I, Harriet.

But I find I bear his absence very well.

I believe I have enjoyed every moment I have spent in his company, but I suspect he's not necessary to my happiness.

Jane, you shall not escape me.

Here is April come, and June will soon be here. I get quite anxious about you.

Have you really heard of nothing? A situation such as you deserve is no everyday occurrence.

You've missed the chance with Mrs Bragge, a cousin of Mr Suckling of Maple Grove.

The whole world was dying to be governess in that family.

Wax candles in the schoolroom! You may imagine how desirable!

Let us not lose hope. We must begin enquiring for you.

I beg you would not, Mrs Elton.

There are places in town where an enquiry would soon produce employment.

Offices for the sale not quite of human flesh, but of human intellect.

My dear, you quite shock me.

If you mean a fling at the slave trade, I assure you, Mr Suckling was a friend to the abolition.

No, no. The governess trade was all I had in view.

Different as to the guilt of those who carry it on, but as to the misery of its victims, I am not sure where it lies.

Mr Weston.

Mr Weston, have you dined?

Do come and sit down. Don't disturb yourselves.

Yes, I have dined.

I am just returned from London and I came straight round here.

My dear, Frank is coming again.

Next week. The whole family.

Milder air, you know, for Mrs Churchill. They have taken a house at Richmond.

He'll be able to ride over every day.

Well, Emma, this is good news for you.

You shall have your ball at the Crown, after all.


Excellently contrived, upon my word. Nothing lacking!

Jane, Jane, look. Did you ever see anything like it?

Mr Knightley...

A fine young man indeed, Mr Weston.

You may believe me. I never compliment.

So truly the gentleman, without the least conceit or puppyism.

I am extremely pleased with him.

Thank you, Mrs Elton.

I have yet to meet anyone who did not like my son.

Ah, but you must know that I can be very severe upon young men.

I have a vast dislike of puppies, quite a horror of them.

Had he turned out to be a puppy, I might have said some very cutting things.

I am a scourge of puppies, am I not, Mr E?

Indeed, you are, Augusta. Woe betide any puppy who ventures into your society.


Mrs Stokes would never know!

"Did you not get your feet wet?" she said, "Coming from the carriage?"

"'We did not," I said, did we, Jane?

There was a mat, and Mr Frank Churchill was so very...

And there he is now, dancing.

Mr Frank Churchill cuts a very fine figure, does he not, Mr Knightley?

Very sprightly.

Very sprightly! Yes, indeed. And so well-partnered in Miss Woodhouse.

They make a pretty pair. They might have been made to stand up together.


Do you not dance, Mr Elton?

Most readily, Mrs Weston, if you will dance with me.

Me? No. I would get you a better partner.

If Mrs Gilbert wishes to dance, it would give me very great pleasure, I'm sure.

Mrs Gilbert does not mean to dance.

But here is a young lady disengaged. Miss Smith.

Miss Smith?

I am much obliged to you.

I did not notice Miss Smith.

But I am an old, married man now.

My dancing days are over. You will excuse me, Mrs Weston.

Forgive me.

Ah! Mr Knightley! Excuse me, sir.

I see Knightley has taken pity on poor little Miss Smith.

Very good-natured, I declare.


That was well done.

I think they aimed at wounding more than Harriet.

Why are they your enemies, Emma?

Perhaps I can guess in Mr Elton's case. Confess. You did want him to marry Harriet.

Yes, I did, and they cannot forgive me.

I admit I was completely mistaken in Mr Elton.

There is a littleness about him, which you discovered and I did not.

Well, in my turn, I'll admit I underestimated Harriet Smith.

She has some first-rate qualities, which Mrs Elton is totally without.

An unpretending, single-minded, artless girl.

Infinitely to be preferred, by any man of sense and taste, to such a woman as Mrs Elton.

Come, Miss Woodhouse. Miss Otway, Miss Smith. What are you all doing?

Come, Emma, set your companions the example.

I am ready. Who will you dance with?

With you, if you will ask me.

Will you?

Indeed I will.

I have seen how well you dance, now.

And we're not so much brother and sister as to make it improper.

Brother and sister? No, indeed.

No, I don't think him old at all.

When you talk to him, he seems quite different.

But I was very surprised at first.

Go on, then.

Oh, no! You're not to think that!

What the devil are you doing here?

Stand away from that lady! Be off!

The most extraordinary good fortune I came at that moment.

I was just on my way to return a pair of scissors to Miss Bates.

God knows what might have happened if I hadn't.

It does seem like providence, or something out of a romance full of brigands and outlaws.

But for this to happen in Highbury!

How can I ever thank you enough, Mr Churchill?

I am happy to have been of service, Miss Smith.


"Mr Knightley invites you to taste his strawberries, which are ripening fast."

Quite delightful, Knightley.

Everything simple, natural. Just as I like it.

No form or parade.

We shall be just like gypsies.

Not in every respect, I trust.

I wish we had come on a donkey, Miss Bates and I, with my caro sposo walking by.

Nothing could be more natural than that, I suppose.

Some might consider it so, madam.

But, Knightley, you should have left it all to me - the invitations, everything.

I should have been glad to be lady patroness. It would have been no trouble to me.

Perhaps not.

But there is only one woman I could ever allow to invite what guests she pleased to Donwell.

Mrs Weston, I suppose.

No. Mrs Knightley.

And until she is in being, I will manage such matters myself.

Well. Here we are.

You're all very welcome.

Oh! The finest fruit in England!

I believe they're everybody's favourite. Always wholesome.

How delightful to gather for oneself!

The only way of really enjoying them, with one's basket over one's arm.

So simple and natural.

I fancy myself as a sort of shepherdess, you know?

Oh, are you fond of sheep, then, Mrs Elton?

I thought Mr Churchill was to be with us today.

He hoped to ride from over Richmond. He should have been here by now.

I must confess, I am a little anxious. I have fears of his horse.

More likely Mrs Churchill has produced some new symptom to keep him with her.

Oh, look.

Poor Jane Fairfax.

How can she bear it?

I will not take no for an answer, Jane. This is a friend of Mrs Bragge's.

A very superior situation, with only two daughters, and very close to Maple Grove.

Say the word, Jane. I shall write this very day. I beg you would excuse me, Mrs Elton.

Miss Fairfax, are you quite well?

Is there anything I can do? This heat really is most oppressive.

Will you walk into the house with me?

Miss Woodhouse, I must go home. I am quite well, but I think I must... make sure my grandmother lacks nothing.

Will you be so kind as to say that when I am missed?

Yes, but let me order our carriage for you. It can be here in five minutes.

No, please. The greatest kindness you can do me is to let me have my own way, and only say I am gone when it is necessary.

Will you do that? Yes. Of course. If you wish it.

Thank you.

Oh, Miss Woodhouse, the comfort of being sometimes alone.


Ah!

There you are, my dear.

I hope you are being careful as to the draughts.

I am well here, with a small fire, but this can be a very draughty house.

Ah. Miss Woodhouse.

Where is everybody? I suppose there was hardly much point in my coming.

The party will be breaking up, I suppose?

I met one as I came in.

Madness in such weather. Absolute madness.

What delayed you?

Mrs Churchill. One of her nervous seizures. This heat is really too much.

You will soon be cooler if you stand still. Yes. Thank you, but I must go back again.

I could very ill be spared, but such a point was made of my coming.

You will come tomorrow, on our outing to Box Hill?

No. It will not be worthwhile. If I come, I shall be cross.

Then pray stay at Richmond.

If I do, I shall be crosser still thinking of you there without me.

These are difficulties you must settle for yourself. Choose your own degree of crossness.

You're quite right.

I'm an absolute bear today.

I will leave you.

If I come to Box Hill, I promise to be in good temper.

Good day.


So, this is Box Hill.

Well, I am very glad to see it.

Let me say at once, how much I'm obliged to you for telling me to come today.

Miss Woodhouse found me cross and fatigued yesterday, and almost determined to go away for ever.

For ever? Well, for a while.

At least as far as Switzerland.

But thanks to her, you see, here I am.

I am very glad she did persuade you.

Thank you, Miss Smith.

We passed Dr Perry on our way here, on horseback.

What happened to Perry's plan to set up a carriage, Father?

I heard of no such plan.

Yes, you wrote of it in a letter.

No. Not I. I never heard of it.

Lord, how strange.

I suppose...

Then I suppose I must have dreamt it.

Come, Miss Woodhouse. Come, Miss Smith.

Best foot forward.

As I was saying, we came in a party.

Captain FitzWilloughby was of our party, I remember.

And such a day we had. And then I do not know what happened.

Captain FitzWilloughby was called away by his colonel, and he had to leave.

It came on to rain...

Are you going to play anagrams? I'm never any good at them.

But Miss Fairfax is to be a governess, I understand, so she can teach us all.

What do you think this could be, Miss Fairfax?

May I try?

B...

U...

No. I can't do it at all.

May I?

Oh, please.

Blunder! Oh, why could I not see it?

Here's one for you, Miss Woodhouse.

For shame! Here, take it. I don't want it.

Shall I give it to her? No. No, you mustn't!

Miss Fairfax, would you care to apply yourself to this?

I didn't know...

I didn't know proper names were allowed.

Come!

What do you all do there? Are you not hungry?

May I ask what the joke was that caused so much entertainment on one side and so much distress on the other?

Nothing. It was a silly private joke, that's all.

Was it?

Emma, are you sure you understand the degree of acquaintance between those two?

Between Frank Churchill and Jane Fairfax? Could you really think that?

But there is nothing between them, no attachment at all.

That is, I presume there is none on her side. But I know there is nothing on his.

How strange that Mr Frank Churchill should dream of Mr Perry's carriage.

It was quite a secret, you know. Nobody knew of it but ourselves. And Jane.

And now for Mr Frank Churchill to dream about it is very extraordinary!

You are in much better spirits today.

That is because I am under your command.

Can't you command yourself? I don't believe I can.

I believe I'm completely under your influence. Since when?

Since I saw you first, in March. I think you should lower your voice.

No-one else is speaking. I'm not saying anything to be ashamed of.

I saw you first, in March! Let everybody hear it, from Mickleham to Dorking!

I saw Miss Emma Woodhouse, first, in March!

There, now... we are a very dull party, and that will not do.

I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse to say that she desires to know what you are all thinking.

Is Miss Woodhouse sure she would like to hear what we're all thinking?

No, upon no account. It is the very last thing I would stand the brunt of, just now.

Ordered? By Miss Woodhouse, indeed!

Well, I was never in a circle before where I was ordered, or required to do anything.

Or one where young ladies ordered married women to do this or that.

I think it is only a kind ofjoke, Augusta. Joke indeed!

Some people don't seem to understand proper decorum at all.

In that case, Miss Woodhouse orders me to say that she requires something entertaining from each of you.

It can be one very clever thing, or two moderately clever things, or three very dull things indeed.

More of her orders? Intolerable!

Well, I'm happy to oblige Miss Woodhouse.

Three very dull things indeed. That will just do for me, you know.

I shall be sure to say three very dull things as soon as ever I open my mouth, shan't I?

Do not you all think I shall?

But there may be a difficulty for you, Miss Bates.

You'll be limited as to number, only three at once.

Ah!

Yes, to be sure.

I see what she means, and I will try to hold my tongue.

I must make myself very disagreeable, or she would not have said such a thing to an old friend.

Shall we walk, Augusta?

Happy couple. How well they suit each other.

Very lucky, marrying as they did on such a short acquaintance formed in a public place.

How many a man has committed himself on a short acquaintance and regretted it the rest of his life?

These things do occur, undoubtedly.

But only the weakest character will allow such an unfortunate acquaintance to be an oppression for ever.

Emma... how could you be so unfeeling to Miss Bates?

So insolent in your wit to a woman of her age and her situation?

I couldn't help myself. She is a good creature, but ridiculous, you must allow.

I dare say she didn't understand me.

I assure you she did. She felt your full meaning.

She's talked of it since with more candour and generosity than she got from you.

When you were a little girl, it was an honour for you to be noticed by Miss Bates.

Now it's the other way round. She is poor. She has sunk from the comfort she was born to.

And you chose to humble her?

To laugh at her, openly, in company?

Her situation should secure your compassion, not your ridicule.

It was badly done, Emma.

Badly done indeed.

It is so very good of you.

Always so good. Jane is not well.

She has a fearful headache.

It came upon her at Box Hill and has got worse.

She asks me to make her apologies to you. She cannot leave her bed.

But, even so, she has determined to accept the post with Mrs Smallridge.

She would write today.

And so we are to lose her.

But it is very good of you to come, Miss Woodhouse.

So very good. You are always very good.

Ah, there you are, my dear!

I wouldn't leave without seeing you.

I'm going to London to spend a few days with John and Isabella.

Have you anything to send or say, besides the love which no-one carries?

No. Nothing.

Isn't this rather a sudden scheme?

Yes.

Or rather... I have been thinking of it for some little time.

Dear Emma has been to call on Mrs and Miss Bates, Mr Knightley.

She's always so attentive to them.

I must go.

I do not like it, Emma, when people go away.

I know they must do sometimes, but I do not like it.

Nor I.

I have made up my mind that I shall never marry.

Harriet! What makes you say this?

I hope it's not in compliment to Mr Elton.

Oh, no.

There is a person I admire.

But he is not someone I could ever...

I owe so much to him and how could anyone not admire him?

And this dates from the service he rendered you?

Oh, yes. When I saw him coming, how noble he looked.

What a change! From perfect misery to perfect happiness.

But I mustn't think of him, must I? Well, stranger things have...

No.

Dear Harriet, you mustn't let yourself be influenced, especially by me.

From now on, I am determined to lead a better life.

Oh, Miss Woodhouse.

What can I say?

We have such kind neighbours.

But Jane has told me to say that she still feels quite unequal to receiving anybody.

Oh, Miss Woodhouse, her spirits are quite overcome.

She has not left her room for three days.

Father... it is with the deepest sorrow that I must inform you of the death of my aunt, Mrs Churchill.

She was carried off by a seizure early on Tuesday morning.

I was glad to be with her at the last.

As to the future, that seems, at present, uncertain.

I shall visit you again as soon as I can.

Well, I'm heartily sorry for almost everything I said and thought about Mrs Churchill.

Yes. Poor lady. Very sad. So ill, and everyone vexed with her.

Two interesting questions remain.

Will she have left Mr Frank Churchill enough money to make him independent?

And given that, who will he marry, now he is free to make his own choice?

I gather that the stepfather is a very easy-going man and quite unlike his wife.

Yes. Who will he marry, now he has his choice?

Harriet, I have reformed.

My lips are sealed.

Miss Woodhouse!

Ah, Miss Woodhouse!

Can you come to Randalls at any time this morning?

Mrs Weston wants to see you.

Can you come?

Yes, of course. This moment, if you please.

But what is the matter? Is she ill?

No, no, no, no. It's something else. Don't be impatient.

It will all come out soon enough. Mrs Weston will break it to you better than I can.

Good God! What? Something has happened to Isabella? To the children?

No, indeed. It's nothing to do with anyone by the name of Knightley.

It is to do with...

Come. Walk with me. Mrs Weston will not be easy until she has seen you.

What is it, my dear friend? Tell me at once.

It will do you good to speak of your distress, whatever it is.

I will tell you, Emma.

Frank was here this morning.

He came to speak to his father on a subject.

To announce an attachment.

Emma...

Frank is engaged to Jane Fairfax.

He has been secretly engaged to her since October last, when they met at Weymouth.

It was he who sent the piano.

Emma, he was engaged to Jane Fairfax before he ever came here.

What is the matter?

I have no doubt at all. It was an offering of love.

An offering oflove?

You have convinced me.

I believe it was.

It seems the engagement had to be secret.

He had to deceive us all, because he feared his aunt's disapproval.

Or feared she would disinherit him.

It has hurt me, Emma, very much.

It has hurt his father, too.

Some part of his conduct we cannot excuse.

Let me relieve you on that score, at least.

There was a time, I confess, when I liked him.

When I liked him very much.

And to how it came to cease, I do not know, but you may believe me, I am safe.

But his behaviour to her! And to us all.

What hypocrisy! What deceit!

Here we have been the whole winter and spring, fancying ourselves on an equal footing of truth and honour, and all this time he has...

Oh, Lord, how shall I break it to Harriet?

Harriet?

Me? Why should you think it would affect me?

You don't think I care for Mr Frank Churchill?

But, Harriet, didn't you say so yourself?

Considering the service he rendered you, it was extremely natural.

No.

Oh, you have misunderstood me.

I meant a much more precious circumstance.

I meant Mr Knightley, when he asked me to dance.

Oh, good God!

Oh, Harriet, if I had known you had meant Mr Knightley, I should never in a million years have encouraged you.

Why should you not?

You said that more wonderful things had happened and why should it not be so?

And do you believe he returns your affection?

Yes. I must say that I do.

Has he said anything directly?

No, but he has talked to me in a very particular way.

He seemed to be asking whether my affections were engaged.

You are sure he was not thinking of Mr Martin?

Mr Martin! No, indeed.

I hope I know better now than to care for Mr Martin.

I would never have thought of Mr Knightley, you know, if you had not encouraged me.

Oh, God, that I'd never met her!


No!

Did you say anything, my dear?

Nothing, Papa.

You and I shall never be enemies.

Never be enemies...never be enemies.

I've seen how well you dance, now, and we are not so much brother and sister as to make it improper.

Brother and sister? No, indeed.

Her situation should secure your compassion, not your ridicule.

It was badly done, Emma.

Badly done indeed.

I love him.

I've always loved him.

Oh, what have I done?


I did not expect to see you so soon.

I rode back this morning. You must have had a wet ride.

Yes.

I have some news for you.

Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill? I've heard it.

I had a letter from Mr Weston and came back directly.

You were probably less surprised than anyone.

You had your suspicions.

I wish I had attended to them.

But I seem to have been doomed to blindness.

My dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.

I cannot tell you what I feel.

Abominable scoundrel!

He will soon be gone.

They will soon be in Yorkshire.

I feel sorry for her. She deserves a better fate.

You are very kind, but you are mistaken.

I have never really been attached to Mr Churchill.

I am sorry if I gave that impression, as I am sure I did.

I have very little to say for my own conduct.

My vanity was flattered, and I allowed his attentions.

He never wished to make me fall in love with him.

It was a blind, to conceal his real situation.

He has imposed on me, but he has not injured me.

You know, he is a most fortunate man.

Everything turns out for his good.

He meets a young woman at a watering place, gains her affections, she consents to an engagement.

He treats her abominably, she bears it like a saint.

His aunt is in the way. His aunt dies.

He has used everybody ill, and they are all delighted to forgive him.

He is a most fortunate man indeed.

You speak as if you envied him.

I do envy him, Emma.

In one respect, I envy him very much.

You don't wish to know what that is?

You are determined, I see, to have no curiosity.

Emma, I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the next morning.

Oh, then don't speak it. Take a little time. Don't commit yourself.

I stopped you ungraciously just then.

Yes, I will hear you.

If you wish to tell me you are contemplating something... yes, you may speak to me as a friend.

As a friend?

Emma, that I fear...

No. I have gone too far for concealment.

Tell me, then.

Have I no chance of ever succeeding?

My dearest Emma, for dearest you will always be, tell me at once.

Say no if it is to be said.

I can't 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've blamed you, I've lectured you.

And you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it.

Well, bear with the truth I tell you now.

My manners may not have much to recommend them, but...

Oh, you understand me.

Yes, you understand my feelings, and will return them if you can.

I can.

I do return them.

I do love you.

I believe I always have, though I didn't know it until yesterday, I think.

Then you do consent?

I do.

This is so strange.

I held you in my arms when you were three weeks old.

Do you like me as well now as you did then?


Oh, Lord. Harriet.

Oh, Miss Woodhouse! I was just coming to see you.

I was just on my way to the school.

Oh, you're going to be so angry with me. No. Quite the opposite.

I must tell you now, for you will know soon enough.

I am going to be married.

To Mr Robert Martin.

He came to the school.

He was so polite and gentlemanlike and he told me his feelings had never changed.

That he loved me still and that he had tried to overcome it, but had not been able to.

Mr Knightley had encouraged him to try again. He is so good.

And I found I couldn't say no.

In fact, I believe I have truly been in love with dear Robert all the time.

Oh, Miss Woodhouse, say you will forgive me and think kindly of me.

Although I understand you will have to give me up and not see me.

Oh, Harriet! This is very good news indeed.

What are you thinking of, Emma?

No, I do not think this is a good idea at all.

Think of poor Isabella.

Think of poor Miss Taylor.

But I love him, Father.

And he loves me.

Yes, that may very well be, but you'd much better not get married.

I mean, what would I do if you went from Hartfield?

My dear sir, Emma and I have discussed this and we have agreed there could be no question of Emma's leaving you.

And we understand you would be much happier here at Hartfield rather than removing to Donwell Abbey.

Therefore...

Mr Knightley has offered to come and live here as long as... as long as you wish it, Papa.

Isn't that good of him?

But we see him every day, as it is.

Why can we not go on as we did before?

We see him every day, but we are alone at night.

Papa, I have heard that the chicken thieves have returned to the neighbourhood.

Not two nights ago, they broke into Mrs Weston's poultry house and stole all her turkeys.

Oh!

Would you not be happier knowing Mr Knightley were in the house?

Why... Why, yes, Emma.

I believe I would.


Best harvest ever, sir.

Well, I declare. Has Knightley invited his tenants?

Are we to sit down with hobbledehoys?

These great men can be eccentric, Augusta, my love.

And I believe harvest suppers are traditional.

In my opinion, eccentricity can go too far.

Knightley!

Ladies and gentlemen. Friends.

We have been blessed this year, again, with a good harvest.

I have been blessed in another way, too.

By next harvest, I shall be living at Hartfield.

Though I assure you all, I shall still be farming my estate and looking after you all.

There will be stability.

There will be continuation...

..though my life is to change.

I ask you all to drink the health of the lady who has made me the happiest man on earth.

Miss Emma Woodhouse!

Miss Emma Woodhouse!

And Mr Knightley!

Mr Knightley!


Miss Woodhouse, may I have the honour of presenting Mr Robert Martin?

Delighted, ma'am.

And so am I.

I hope you will both be very happy, and I hope you will come and visit us soon at Hartfield, with your sister and Miss Smith.

Did you see that, Mr E?

Well, I suppose she always meant to catch Knightley, if she could.

I hope her pride will be contented now.

Oh, Emma! Such happiness!

Congratulations, Emma.

I know you think the good fortune is all on my side.

I? Not at all, not at all.

You needn't deny it, for this once I agree with you.

Will you excuse me, Miss Fairfax?

Isn't she lovely?

Did you ever see such a skin? Such smoothness?

I have always admired her complexion, though I remember a time when you found fault with her for being too pale.

What an impudent dog I am. Can you forgive me, Miss Woodhouse?

If she can forgive you, so can I, I suppose.

She does forgive me. She's a complete angel.

Look at her. Observe the turn of her throat.

You'll be glad to hear my Uncle Churchill means to give her all my aunt's jewels.

Won't they look beautiful against that skin?

Very beautiful.

She hears us.

She hears us. I see it in her cheek.

She pretends to listen to the others, but she can attend to nothing else.


Will you dance with me, Emma?

You and I are not so much brother and sister as to make it improper.

Brother and sister? No, indeed!