Lend Me Leave
Page 27
“Emma,” said Knightley. She turned and he held out his hand. “Come, my love.”
She smiled and came to him gladly, and he escorted her to the carriage. He helped her inside himself, and then took his seat beside her. His arm went around her shoulders; she gave a happy sigh, lifted her face up for his kiss, and then nestled close beside him with her head on his shoulder.
“How far is it to Worthing?” she asked as the carriage began to move.
“I’m afraid the journey will take all day; we will not arrive until the evening.”
“Ah. Well then, I must inform you that I may spend the entire journey in this position. I hope you will not mind very much.
“There are worse trials, Emma. And speaking of trials, I quite liked hearing you call me George during the wedding. Was it very painful?”
“No—I should say more awkward than painful. It seemed to me that I was speaking to someone else. I daresay I will grow used to it in time.”
“I think you should practice. Make it a habit to call me George at least once a day until it is more natural.”
“I am sure to forget. I suppose I could make it a rule that I call you George at breakfast. I could say, “Good morning, George,” and if I forget you could remind me.”
“My dear Emma, you forget that I will see you before breakfast. At least, I hope I will.”
“I suppose so. Perhaps I ought to say it on first awakening.”
“That is a very good plan. Or perhaps you should save it for when you feel particularly tender.”
“I think those instances may be more frequent than once a day.”
“All the better.”
Emma fell asleep in the carriage after a late afternoon meal at the coaching inn at Horsham, and awoke as they entered Worthing.
“I’m afraid it is too dark now to see much of the town—or the sea—tonight,” he said. “But we will be here for a fortnight.”
“Yes, of course,” Emma said. “It doesn’t matter. Where is our hotel?”
“The Anchor—it is on the seafront. Dr. Hughes stayed there once, and recommended the place. He said that many of the rooms have a fine view of the sea.”
“Ah,” said Emma, blushing a little. “That is very nice. Still—George—do you think we will really care much about the view?”
14 October
Hartfield
Dear George,
I hope your wedding trip has been all you hoped it would be—and I say that without any sly look whatever on my face. I had not thought I would write to you while you were away, but there are a few items of news it would be as well for you to know before you return.
Weston has been in further contact with Burton, who says that Cooper has none of that honour among thieves that one hears so much about. He has given Burton a list of accomplices’ names—most of them are the lads in Langham that you suspected. Cooper thinks one of them betrayed him, and he is determined to see that he is not the only one to be condemned. He has also given the name of some fellow in London—a cousin of some kind, evidently, who disposed of some of the stolen goods for him.
Bella has, to her great delight, persuaded her grandpapa to let Madam Duval come to Hartfield. I gave my permission as well, knowing that you could very easily take her back to the Abbey and keep her there when you return. However, Mr. Woodhouse has taken quite a fancy to the cat. I have happened upon him when he was alone with the animal and found that he was talking to it quite as if it were another person. It may be a sign of senility—I do hope it is not—but I cannot see that he is generally declining, and it may be that he only desires a little bit of company.
I hope you are fortified by the sea breezes and the granting of your heart’s desire, because when you return, there will be a severe trial to be borne—the Sucklings will arrive next week.
Your faithful brother,
John
FINIS