“ ... the wishes, the hopes, the confidence, the predictions of the small band of true friends who witnessed the ceremony, were fully answered in the perfect happiness of the union.”

Thus t...

Excerpt from Chapter 1

EMMA KNIGHTLEY, HANDSOME, CLEVER and rich, with a husband whose affection for her was only equalled by her affection for him, had passed upward of a year of marriage in what may be described as perfect happiness; certainly this is how she described it to herself as she sat at her writing desk from which she had an excellent view of her father, Mr Woodhouse, taking a turn round the shrubbery on the arm of her beloved Mr Knightley.

Emma smiled as she watched them, smiled and repressed a sigh as she saw the tender way in which Mr Knightley – she would never bring herself to call him George – put his upright, manly self between the cool autumnal breeze and the frail figure of her father. Since she, herself, usually performed this daily office for her father – Mr Knightley often being occu¬pied in the mornings when her father felt the air most conducive to good health – seldom did she have the opportunity of seeing her parent as he appeared at a distance to the objective eye.

His walking was tentative, it could not be denied, but then he had never been quick, or never since she could remember him. It was possible – Emma considered the idea from the heights of her still new stature as a wife – that his sense of himself as an invalid had stemmed from the early death of Mrs Woodhouse, causing him to distrust health. If that were the cause – and, by his affectionate accounts of his wife, she had possessed all the vivacity, intellectual vigour and good health that any woman could wish for – then it was understandable that her adoring husband’s tempera¬ment should receive a severe shock at her unexpected death; that he would never be the same, but always fearful, not just for himself, but for his daughters (Emma had an elder sister, Isabella), their husbands, Isabella’s five children (soon to be six), his friends, acquaintances and, in short, the whole world, small as it was, that he inhabited.

For Mr Woodhouse, a draught from a not properly closed window was as dangerous as a wind chased from Petersburg over the snowy wastes of Siberia; a sneeze from relation or friend caused as much consternation as the plague spots in a Turkoman port; a boot only slightly damp from a walk across mown grass excited his terror to such an extent that the wearer – usually Emma, who was his nearest and dearest, although not of an espe¬cially active, energetic disposition – must submit to a hot mustard bath and constant enquiries as to her temperature.

All this Emma had known since she was a child and such was her love for her father, so fond was she of him, that she had thought of it as illus¬trating the kindness of his heart rather than as any weakness of character. But that had been before her marriage.

Making no more pretence to write her letter – it was to be a note to mark the birthday of her eldest nephew, Henry, who was with his family, in London – she once again contemplated the two figures so closely adjoined in the pathway. They had now turned and were directly facing her, although they were seen some way off and the sunlight in their faces would have precluded them from any view of Emma.

Ah, indeed! thought Emma, it is the contrast that makes me uneasy. But this was too dangerous a way of thinking and must be quelled instantly. Yet, as is often the case, this little acknowledgement of unease led on to a much graver one for, as she watched her father with the same fond eyes that had put him first all her life; that had, indeed, insisted that she could never leave his side and thus brought her husband from his home at Donwell Abbey into her home of Hartfield, she found herself wondering how long he, Mr Woodhouse, an avowed invalid, would live.

It was a terrible thought for a daughter to have about her father, so terrible, so utterly filled with vice that she disowned it at once, clanged shut the door into her heart that had revealed such grimacing horror, and, in a moment, was smiling once more into the sunny garden and thinking, with all contentment, how wonderful it was that her strong Mr Knightley, so much outdoors with his farm business, such a powerful walker that it needed all her wiles to persuade him into using the carriage, should yet so comfort¬ably subdue his step to fit her father’s. He did it, she knew, not only out of his love for her or even out of his respect for his father-in-law but because he truly loved her father. He had told her so; and Mr Knightley never lied.

Emma dropped her eyes to her paper, now adorned with blobs of ink resembling some fantastic beast. Another thought, as misshapen as the ink, appeared irrepressible in her mind. Why was it that the more patient, kind, understanding, candid, Mr Knightley showed himself to her father, the more uneasy, restless and unsympathetic she herself became? Why, in the face of such goodness, was she tempted to become bad?
Scrumpling the paper with a frown, Emma stood up briskly; she would go and meet the two people she loved most in the world and join their pleasure in each other’s company with her own delight in theirs. She was on the point of summoning her maid to bring shawl and hat when the girl herself appeared, holding a letter which had that moment been brought to the door.

Seeing at once it was from the very household, that of her sister, to whom she should have been writing, Emma sat back down on her seat again and broke the seal to the envelope. First, however, she noted with satisfaction that Mr Knightley and her father had turned their backs to her and were started on their second turn round the shrubbery. News from his eldest daughter, whether good, bad or of no real account, was equally capable of arousing Mr Woodhouse’s fears – as if change itself was threat – so Emma was in the habit of first apprising herself of such information as Henry’s little successes at school or baby Emma’s new tooth; and then grad¬ually passing it on to her father.

For her, to the contrary, news from outside the house of Hartfield where her days passed so quietly, was always exciting and as eagerly read as a romance. Emma, whose fertile imagination had become very active, as if to compensate for an uneventful life, seldom admitted herself disappointed with even the dullest material. On this occasion, however, she had no need to use any exceptional powers, and, as she read, her mobile face expressed consternation, shock and something most like disbelief. Her youthfully clear skin changed from pink to pale to pink and finally – as tears started in her eyes – to a pallor from which all colour had drained. Indeed, it almost looked as if she must faint, so shocking to her were the contents of the letter.

But Emma was no weakling and soon she had wiped her eye with her little embroidered kerchief and, with a more resolute expression, picked up the letter once more.

BOOK REVIEW: Emma & Knightley by Rachel Billington
Reviewed by Jill Hart

This Austen sequel, the third of it’s type that I’ve read recently, is hands-down my favorite. Billington’s continuation of Austen’s Emma truly made feel like I was reading something Austen herself would have written.

Emma and Knightley have been married a year and life thus far has been blissful. But, when Mr Knightley’s brother, John, falls into financial trouble and Emma is called to London to help her elder sister who is preparing for the birth of her sixth child, Emma’s world turns upside down.

The death of Jane Fairfax and the return of Frank Churchill add the perfect amount of drama. And, of course, we can’t forget the infamous Mrs Elton and her annoying countenance. She’s determined to throw the ball of the century when her sister finally comes to pay a visit.

Amongst the ’Austen-style’ drama going on around her is Emma, still learning what it means to be a proper wife to Mr Knightley. She knows there seems to tension between them, but isn’t sure of the source or how to go about clearing the air. Can they learn to fully love one another and build a strong marriage or will assumptions and misunderstandings tear them further apart?

I truly loved this book. I began reading it and had I not known better I would have thought I was reading something written by Austen herself. There were a few times that I thought Emma seemed a little more condescending than in the original, especially to Harriet, but overall I was delighted with the story. The story flows well, the characters were believable and their actions were consistent with those of the original story. The plot lines kept things interesting and Emma’s trip to London was a nice change of pace.

Rating: 5/5

Like this? Try The Pemberley Chronicles by Rebecca Ann Collins




Thursday, June 05, 2008
Book Review: Emma & Knightley

When Emma and Knightley marry at the end of Jane Austen’s Emma, Emma is a very young 21 or 22 years old. While she has been mistress of her father’s house for a number of years, she has never had to balance her role as a daughter caring for her (hypochondriac) father with her new role as Mr. Knightley’s wife. I for one always wondered how their relationship continued to develop after the close of Austen’s novel.

Fortunately for us, Rachel Billington’s novel Emma & Knightley: Perfect Happiness in Highbury: A Sequel to Jane Austen’s Emma brings the reader into Emma and Knightley’s life after their marriage.

As is usual, I am sure, the Knightleys have their little difficulties adjusting to married life. Knightley has agreed to live to live at Hartfield, rather than his home of Donwell Abbey, so that Mr. Woodhouse will not be disturbed too much. Emma is trying to figure out how to relate to Knightley as her husband, rather than the beloved older neighbor. And he is trying, as always, to help Emma continue to grow into a well-rounded, thoughtful lady, and to help her see him as the love of her life, not just a loving familiar face.

Their lives are further complicated by the difficulties of those around them. Mrs. Bates has died, leaving poor Miss Bates alone. Jane Fairfax Churchill dies, leaving a bereaved (and half-mad) Frank Churchill with a newborn. Knightley’s brother John has major financial difficulties, which they hide, for a time, from Emma’s sister Isabella. And, it seems as if every couple is having children, except the Knightleys.

I confess, while I love Emma, it is probably my least favorite of Jane Austen’s novels, partly because Emma does not seem to grow as much as a person as the other Austen heroines do. That’s why I am delighted that Billington did such an excellent job on Emma & Knightley. Her novel continues Emma’s growth as a human being and a woman, rather than a girl, and shows how the Knightleys figure out how to relate to eachother as spouses and settle into their marriage.

Billington also did a good job continuing the secondary characters Austen wrote. The Westons are lovely and, naturally, expanding their family. Miss Bates is her usual chatty self, but ends up providing perfect companionship for Mr. Woodhouse. Frank Churchill is a selfish cad and causes Emma difficulties. Billington also introduces new characters, including Mrs. Philomena Tidmarsh, who challenges some of Emma’s ideas.

I was also happy with the fact that Billington did not try to change the characters or make them behave in ways inconsistent with their Austen-written characters. The plot was well-developed and satisfying.

Emma & Knightley is a delightful continuation of a beloved book. I recommend it for any Austen fan and anyone interested in following the development of Emma and Knightley’s marriage. You can find it at any bookstore or through Amazon.com.