Read Online Mr Knightley’s Diary by Amanda Grange - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amanda Grange
Tags: Jane Austen Fan Lit
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said with a smile. 'I was sixteen years old when you were born.'
'A material difference then, and no doubt you were much my superior in judgement at that period of our lives; but does not the lapse of one-and-twenty years bring our understandings a good deal nearer?'
'Yes--a good deal nearer ,' I said.
'But still, not near enough to give me a chance of being right, if we think differently,' she said saucily.
I smiled.
'I have still the advantage of you by sixteen years' experience, and by not being a pretty young woman and a spoiled child. Come, my dear Emma, let us be friends and say no more about it.' I turned to the baby. 'Tell your aunt, little Emma, that she ought to set you a better example than to be renewing old grievances, and that if she were not wrong before, she is now.'
She agreed, and we shook hands. I liked the feel of it. There is something very agreeable about being with Emma.
John entered, and whilst Mr Woodhouse played with the children, and Emma and Isabella made sure they did not tire him too much, John and I caught up on the news. He was as eager as ever to hear about Donwell. I told him about the tree that was felled, and the new path I am planning, and one or two interesting cases that have come before me as the local magistrate.
I was just beginning to enjoy the evening when the usual arguments about health began.
'I cannot say that I think you are any of you looking well at present,' said Mr Woodhouse.
'I assure you, Mr Wingfield told me that he did not believe he had ever sent us off altogether, in such good case,' said Isabella, who cites Mr Wingfield as a fount of all knowledge, in the same way that Mr Woodhouse cites Perry. 'I trust, at least, that you do not think Mr Knightley is looking ill.'
I glanced at Emma, and she at me. We both of us knew where this would lead.
'Middling, my dear; I cannot compliment you. I think Mr John Knightley very far from looking well.'
I tried to talk loud enough to drown out the remark, but John heard it.
'What is the matter, sir? Did you speak to me?' he cried.
'I am sorry to find, my love, that my father does not find you looking well,' said Isabella.
'Pray do not concern yourself about my looks. Be satisfied with doctoring and coddling yourself and the children, and let me look as I choose,' said John testily.
The arguments about health subsided, but then arguments about the seaside began.
'You should have gone to Cromer, my dear, if you went anywhere,' said Mr Woodhouse. 'Perry was a week at Cromer once, and he holds it to be the best of all the sea-bathing places.'
'But, my dear sir, the difference of the journey; only consider how great it would have been. A hundred miles, perhaps, instead of forty,' said Isabella.
Mr Woodhouse was equal to the protest.
'Ah, my dear, as Perry says, where health is at stake, nothing else should be considered; and if one is to travel, there is not much to choose between forty miles and an hundred. Better not move at all, better stay in London altogether than travel forty miles to get into a worse air. This is just what Perry said. It seemed to him a very ill-judged measure.'
'I have never heard Perry saying anything of the sort!' I said in an aside to Emma, and she smiled.
John, already goaded earlier in the evening, could bear it no longer.
'If Mr Perry can tell me how to convey a wife and five children a distance of an hundred and thirty miles with no greater expense or inconvenience than a distance of forty, I should be as willing to prefer Cromer to Southend as he could himself,' he said sarcastically.
I felt it was time to intervene.
'True,' I said. 'Very true. That is a consideration, indeed.'
'The expense must be acknowledged,' said Emma.
And between us, Emma and I set about restoring the peace.
'I think the evening passed off as well as could be expected,' I said to her, when it was all but over.
'Perhaps better,' she said. 'John has always been quick tempered, and my father worries so much
'A material difference then, and no doubt you were much my superior in judgement at that period of our lives; but does not the lapse of one-and-twenty years bring our understandings a good deal nearer?'
'Yes--a good deal nearer ,' I said.
'But still, not near enough to give me a chance of being right, if we think differently,' she said saucily.
I smiled.
'I have still the advantage of you by sixteen years' experience, and by not being a pretty young woman and a spoiled child. Come, my dear Emma, let us be friends and say no more about it.' I turned to the baby. 'Tell your aunt, little Emma, that she ought to set you a better example than to be renewing old grievances, and that if she were not wrong before, she is now.'
She agreed, and we shook hands. I liked the feel of it. There is something very agreeable about being with Emma.
John entered, and whilst Mr Woodhouse played with the children, and Emma and Isabella made sure they did not tire him too much, John and I caught up on the news. He was as eager as ever to hear about Donwell. I told him about the tree that was felled, and the new path I am planning, and one or two interesting cases that have come before me as the local magistrate.
I was just beginning to enjoy the evening when the usual arguments about health began.
'I cannot say that I think you are any of you looking well at present,' said Mr Woodhouse.
'I assure you, Mr Wingfield told me that he did not believe he had ever sent us off altogether, in such good case,' said Isabella, who cites Mr Wingfield as a fount of all knowledge, in the same way that Mr Woodhouse cites Perry. 'I trust, at least, that you do not think Mr Knightley is looking ill.'
I glanced at Emma, and she at me. We both of us knew where this would lead.
'Middling, my dear; I cannot compliment you. I think Mr John Knightley very far from looking well.'
I tried to talk loud enough to drown out the remark, but John heard it.
'What is the matter, sir? Did you speak to me?' he cried.
'I am sorry to find, my love, that my father does not find you looking well,' said Isabella.
'Pray do not concern yourself about my looks. Be satisfied with doctoring and coddling yourself and the children, and let me look as I choose,' said John testily.
The arguments about health subsided, but then arguments about the seaside began.
'You should have gone to Cromer, my dear, if you went anywhere,' said Mr Woodhouse. 'Perry was a week at Cromer once, and he holds it to be the best of all the sea-bathing places.'
'But, my dear sir, the difference of the journey; only consider how great it would have been. A hundred miles, perhaps, instead of forty,' said Isabella.
Mr Woodhouse was equal to the protest.
'Ah, my dear, as Perry says, where health is at stake, nothing else should be considered; and if one is to travel, there is not much to choose between forty miles and an hundred. Better not move at all, better stay in London altogether than travel forty miles to get into a worse air. This is just what Perry said. It seemed to him a very ill-judged measure.'
'I have never heard Perry saying anything of the sort!' I said in an aside to Emma, and she smiled.
John, already goaded earlier in the evening, could bear it no longer.
'If Mr Perry can tell me how to convey a wife and five children a distance of an hundred and thirty miles with no greater expense or inconvenience than a distance of forty, I should be as willing to prefer Cromer to Southend as he could himself,' he said sarcastically.
I felt it was time to intervene.
'True,' I said. 'Very true. That is a consideration, indeed.'
'The expense must be acknowledged,' said Emma.
And between us, Emma and I set about restoring the peace.
'I think the evening passed off as well as could be expected,' I said to her, when it was all but over.
'Perhaps better,' she said. 'John has always been quick tempered, and my father worries so much
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