I believe congratulations are in order.
Oh, Miss Woodhouse,
this is a poor empty old house now there's just you and your father here.
- Who is that young woman? - That is Harriet Smith.
She is the natural daughter of, well, we don't really know who.
Miss Woodhouse! Another letter from Jane!
I am sick of the very name Jane Fairfax.
Every letter must be read 40 times over.
She bores me to death.
Which is a pity, because Jane,
Frank Churchill and I are bound together in a mysterious sort of way.
Frank is like a lost boy, never to return home.
- Good morning, Miss Smith. - Good morning, Mr. Martin.
So you actually want to accept Robert Martin?
Harriet Smith refuse Robert Martin?!
It's madness.
There are plenty of more suitable suitors around.
You have captured Miss Smith to perfection!
Elton will not do.
And one day you will bitterly regret your meddling.
I have managed two pages of Mr. Milton.
"I may assert the ways of God to Man
"and justify Eternal Providence."
That's very true, I think.
I think we have done enough reading for today.
Such lofty thoughts require a moment's pause
to reflect on their value.
I think we deserve a look at our project.
Our collection of romantic riddles is building up nicely.
I wonder, Miss Woodhouse,
that you are not yet married, you are so charming.
I assure you, I have very little intention of marrying at all.
Someone very superior would have to come along
and even then I would rather not be tempted.
It is so very odd to hear a woman talk like that.
Were I in love, it would be a different thing
but I have never been in love.
It is not my way or my nature and
I don't think I ever shall.
And without love, why would I want to change my situation?
I have fortune. I am occupied.
I do not think that there is a wife alive
who has a better position than mine at Hartfield.
But to be an old maid,
like Miss Bates!
That is a formidable image!
If I thought I was going to end up like Miss Bates,
so silly, so apt to tell everyone everything trivial about oneself,
then I would marry tomorrow!
But, ah, do not worry, Harriet, for I shall be a rich old maid.
And it is only poor old maids who invite the world's ridicule.
Though I must say, Miss Bates is not exactly universally despised.
No-one is afraid of her and that has a charm of its own.
And as for children, I already have a multitude of Knightley children
to always be sure of having a niece about me at all times.
Good afternoon, Miss Woodhouse.
Good afternoon, Mr. Elton. How kind of you to call.
Now I have brought you this month's church flower rota.
Oh, erm, Mr. Woodhouse told me that you are compiling a portfolio
of riddles and verses of a romantic nature.
On a moment's impulse I, er, well,
I wrote this contribution for your collection.
It's, it's just a small verse, not very good, I fear.
Thank you, Mr. Elton,
but would you not rather give it to Miss Smith yourself?
Oh, no, no. I'm, uh, already late for another appointment.
It will be quite safe in your hands.
Oh...it is a riddle!
Exactly, a love poem.
He said it was to add to our collection,
but I think we can guess it relates to his regard for you.
I must say I do wonder
it has taken him so long to make his feelings known.
"My first displays the wealth and pomp of kings."
"Another view of man, my second brings, the monarch of the seas."
"Thy ready wit the word will soon supply." Oh, dear,
I can't decipher.
Well, well, look here.
"The wealth and pomp of kings."
"Kings", what does that suggest?
Perhaps court? "The monarch of the seas."
"Seas"?
Maybe a ship?
Ship?
Court?
Ship-court!?
Is that it?
Try again.
What might "ship" and "court" signify?
No.
Courtship!
Courtship. See here, and here.
Oh, Miss Woodhouse.
I can hardly believe it!
Well, you had better try.
I hope to see you settled in the vicarage by the spring!
Father, why do you not wait inside?
They said they would set out with plenty of time.
You know your sister as well as I do, Emma.
They're late, something's happened!
Nothing has happened. It takes a good while to gather up five children
and their luggage for a Christmas trip.
Do you think, er, Miss Smith is going down with something?
I mean, I heard her sneeze in the corridor.
Baby Emma will arrive soon.
We can't have a house full of disease.
Please don't tell me you invited her to come to dinner
on their first night?
It's bad enough having Knightley.
Father, you forget.
Mr. Knightley might have insisted that they all stay at Donwell.
He might not come for I fear he has not forgiven me yet.
Forgiven you? What an earth for?
Run! Hurry up!
John! You should be in bed. You too, Bella.
Yes, come along, children. We must all do as your aunt says.
Can we play again tomorrow, Uncle George?
Quietly now. Right, Henry. And don't be late for dinner.
- You know what your grandpa will say. - Can we, Uncle George, please?
You look pale, Henry.
It is a great a pity that you went to the sea in the autumn and did not come here.
- But why should you think so, Papa? - Mr. Knightley...
Mr. Knightley, can I have the salt, please?
And if you had to go to the sea and not come here where the air is purest - Dr. Perry agrees -
then you should have chosen Cromer rather than Southend.
It is an unhealthy place.
Excuse me.
- Dr. Wingfield... - Is a London doctor,
and we all know London is the unhealthiest place of all to live in.
Brunswick Square has the clearest air in the capital.
Dr. Wingfield has said so. It has been scientifically proven.
And he recommended the sea air for all the children!
Come, come, don't let's talk about the seaside. You know I have never been there.
It makes me so miserable and envious to think you have seen the sea and your poor old aunt has not!
Dr. Perry was a week at Cromer
and said it was the best sea-bathing place of all, if you must go.
But Cromer is so very much farther than Southend.
- 100 miles instead of 40. - But where health is at stake.
This is what Perry said.
He said it seems best not to go at all.
Dr. Perry would do well to keep his opinions to himself!
Why is it any of his business where I take my family on holiday?
If Dr. Perry can tell me how to convey a wife and five children
a distance of 130 miles with no greater expense or inconvenience than 40...
Ooh, John, do you remember the re-routing of the path into Highbury?
Well, an added advantage is that it takes us very near to Randalls.
We could walk there tomorrow, visit the new Mrs. Weston.
Oh, poor Miss Taylor. We hardly ever see her now!
Father! We have only missed seeing them one day since they were married!
If only we could resolve our quarrels
as well as we resolve those disputes within our family,
we could be friends again.
If only you were as sensible with those outside the family
and not subject them to your fancy, we would never disagree.
Ah, of course, and I am always in the wrong.
Well, I was your considerable superior in years when you were the age of little Emma here.
And I am sure that you were by far my superior in judgement when I was.
But surely we have grown closer in judgement as the years have passed?
Well, I had the advantage of not being a pretty woman and a spoilt child.
Come, let's be friends, hmm? And say no more about it.
Tell your aunt, little Emma, not to renew old grievances.
Very true, little one.
Grow up to be a far better woman than your aunt.
Be infinitely cleverer and not so conceited.
But I must ask one more thing.
As far as good intentions go, we were both right.
I cannot claim to be sorry that Harriet took my advice.
But I would like to know that Mr. Martin is not so very bitterly disappointed?
I cannot satisfy you there.
I've never seen a man more disappointed.
I wonder if we have time to have you a new dress made
for the Westons' Christmas party?
You must look demure, but at the same time alluring.
Oh, dear,
you definitely can't go looking like that.
Mr. Elton will have to wait.
Don't despair.
You may not be able to go to the Westons' dinner party
but we can still make this a good test of Mr. Elton's regard.
Good morning, Mr. Elton.
Oh, good morning. Miss Woodhouse, Mr. Knightley.
I am afraid that Harriet is not with us as she is confined to bed with a cold.
Oh, I, I am sorry to hear your news about Miss Smith,
but I am sure your family is of much comfort.
What is that you say about my children?
Why is it all men feel they may freely comment on my family, hmm?
I, er, I merely was complimenting Miss Woodhouse
on a fine collection of nephews.
Very fine indeed.
Do you all go to the Weston's tomorrow night?
Oh, yes, even Father has been persuaded.
But you will not wish to go, Mr Elton, as Harriet is so very ill?
I am very much looking forward to it!
Though, being a poor bachelor,
I, well, I cannot afford a carriage, and if it should snow...
Oh, we are taking two carriages for safety.
Come with us in ours, if you please.
Well that is very generous of you.
Good day to you both.
James, Henry, come on.
Come on, let's get going. We don't want to be late.
It's definitely going to snow.
Let's be optimistic.
I've never known Father so keen to go out to dinner.
If you had not offered Mr. Elton our carriage
we'd be there and home again much quicker.
How could I do otherwise when your manner towards him is so encouraging?
Me?
My manner? What an idea?!
Yes, you.
I thought it remarkable how he seemed to want your attention.
What a ridiculous thing to say!
Me? He's interested in Harriet Smith.
I'm never wrong about these things.
I assure you, Mr. Elton and I are merely very good friends and nothing more.
Simply an observation.
You might do well to reconsider your behaviour towards him.
Here we are at the vicarage!
Good evening, one and all.
What an excellent idea, the use of sheepskin for carriages in winter!
How very cosy we all are!
I enquired about Harriet this evening and was told she was worse.
I don't know when I have ever looked forward to an evening out more!
I know it will snow tonight.
The folly of it!
Here we are with probably thinner clothing than usual.
Heading for, voluntarily, in defiance of nature,
to spend five dull hours in another man's home
with nothing to say or hear that was not said or heard yesterday.
I wish you would learn to arrive at a dinner party in the correct manner.
- Why can't you bring a coach? - Because there is no need.
I was on the point of walking, but Bessie here wanted an outing, didn't you, Bessie?
A gentleman should arrive in a coach and horses.
If the Coles, who are traders, can keep a coach,
then the master of Donwell Abbey should be equal to it!
- What, are the Coles coming? - No, of course they aren't! Ah.
- I'm ashamed to arrive with you. - Oh, don't be ridiculous, Emma.
But you don't arrive with me.
Mr. Elton is waiting to attend to you. Look.
- A gentleman... - This gentleman
likes to be able to leave a place when he wishes
without sending for horses a day in advance
before he goes forth into the cold air.
He likes to be able to stride out into the world
as he wishes and go home again when he chooses.
Some anxiety about the journey,
but now he's here, he's happy.
Ah, ah, ah, careful there!
Miss Woodhouse's cloak must not be crushed.
- Mr. Weston. - Emma, my dear.
- Mr. Weston. - Mr. Elton.
Please tell me, any news of Frank? Is he coming tonight?
Well, er, my son... Mr. Knightley.
... though tied to his aunt, is a bit of a traveller, like myself,
- and only the other day... - Do you, erm,
do you think your father is quite comfortable in that chair?
Yes, I am sure he is.
The Weston's always take such care.
I imagine there has already been considerable discussion as to the exact placement of his chair.
Maybe you should ask him?
Oh, yes, bit of a traveller.
You see, Frank is quite impetuous, like his father.
He's always dashing off on his black stallion whenever he can.
Only the other day we heard that he was on his way here,
he got as far as Burford and what do you think happened?
Oh, how tantalising?! What happened?
Miss Woodhouse, Miss Woodhouse?
Allow me to fetch you a drink,
if you would be so good to sit over here?
No, thank you, Mr. Elton.
I do not need anything at the moment.
So that was the end of it,
and why we're still waiting.
If you'll excuse me, I must see how dinner is progressing.
Mrs. Knightley.
Well, isn't this lovely?
Ah, Mr. Elton, sit here.
- And Isabella. - Thank you, Mr. Weston.
Next to Mr. Elton.
Miss Woodhouse.
Emma, my dear, next to us.
We only needed two more settings to be the perfect number.
Your little Miss Smith, and my son, Frank.
I do hope you do not feel offended, my dear.
One day you two shall meet.
Such a pity, did you hear, Emma?
Frank told his father that one day he saddled up his horse,
a great black beast, and set off for Highbury,
only to be met at the coaching station by a letter
saying his aunt had fallen ill once more,
so he had to turn back.
Do not worry on my account.
As I have waited eagerly to meet him for nearly 20 years,
a few more weeks will not be too difficult to bear.
I think to set off like that impulsively, recklessly even,
to risk disobeying his aunt in order to do a duty to his father
shows a fineness of spirit in Mr. Churchill,
a keenness of feeling, a most romantic nature
and a thoroughly good heart.
It's the horse I'm sorry for.
For my part it only makes my anticipation on meeting this young man even stronger.
Any woman would respond to such heroic, gentlemanly impulses.
I thought gentlemen always rode in carriages.
I cannot think of Frank Churchill without the greatest compassion.
His aunt seems to have a sixth sense whenever he gives his attention
to anyone else but her and calls his conscience home again.
She keeps him like a dog on a lead.
I hope that you are talking of Miss Smith's cold?
We are all aware of the danger.
Oh, yes, we are all very concerned.
Maybe you wish to leave soon
so that you can find out the latest news of her condition?
I hope that you, like myself,
have been urging Miss Woodhouse not to go within half a mile of Goddard's,
when there is the chance of catching an infection.
Miss Woodhouse's health is paramount.
So concerned for others! And will she take care of herself?
Is this fair, Mrs. Weston?
Have I not the right to complain?
I knew it! It's snowing and falling heavily.
I did admire your spirit, sir, in venturing out, but now do you see where we are?!
I saw a few flakes earlier but I thought if I said anything Mr. Woodhouse would go.
Don't panic, Father.
I can't stay.
No, no, no, no, we will find a way to make it home.
We must go immediately.
- May I be of assistance? - No, everything's fine, thank you.
If we get stuck in a ditch, I can walk.
- In those shoes? I don't think so. - But you must all stay here!
We have plenty of room. You can stay for the whole of Christmas, if you please.
- I can't stay. - Oh, dear.
I'm afraid we only have two guest rooms.
I will call Mr. Knightley.
Calm yourself, my dear.
I've just been down the Highbury Road.
The snow is not above half an inch anywhere.
There's no danger of anyone being marooned here by the snow.
Now, your father will not be easy. Why don't you go?
I am ready, if the others are.
Shall I ring for the coaches?
We must go as soon as possible, please.
I must get my hat and my scarf, wrap up.
- Bye! - It's been a lovely evening, everybody.
It's very good to see you.
Safe journey home and merry Christmas,
merry Christmas to you all.
John! This, this is our carriage.
Well, that's all right, isn't it?
I'll, er, calm your father and Mr. Elton can escort you.
- John, John! - Yes, yes, my darling.
Here, take this.
Your carriage awaits.
There you are, John.
How brightly they shine.
How fortunate that we are alone.
It, um,
must be written in the stars!
Miss Woodhouse,
make me the happiest man in the world.
I adore you. Of course, it will not be a surprise.
- I will die if you refuse me. - Mr. Elton,
stop this at once! You have obviously been drinking.
Might I remind you of your attachment to Miss Smith.
Um, what are you talking about?
I speak of your regard for Miss Smith this last month, your visits to Hartfield.
And now you profess your love for me, what fickleness of character! I am astonished.
But I have never paid the slightest attention to Miss Smith, except as your friend.
For herself, I couldn't care less if she lives or dies.
Oh! No, no, no.
Everything I have done over the past few weeks is to show my,
my marked adoration for you.
Surely that was...obvious?
Forgive me for being a, er, novice, in the ways of love,
for of course you will modestly pretend to refuse me the first time.
Let go of my hand, sir! And sit over there!
Am I to understand that you...
you never preferred Miss Smith?
Never, madam!
Miss Smith is a good sort of girl
and no doubt there will be some who can overlook
the, er, circumstance of her birth.
But I think that I do not have to stoop to her level.
No, my hopes were all entirely for you.
Led, I might say, by the marked encouragement that you gave me.
You are mistaken, sir.
I only thought of you as a suitor for my friend.
I am sorry that you are mistaken but I never gave you any encouragement.
I have no thoughts of matrimony...
at the present.
This is your fault, Emma.
Was he really admiring my talent rather than Harriet's form?
Elton will not do.
He knows he is a very handsome young man and will never marry cheaply.
How could I have been so stupid?
How am I going to tell Harriet?
All right, Henry.
- Go! - Duck!
This is how we used to play, do you remember?
Oh, yes, we used to load up that poor nymph so she was almost buried!
Right, let's show them how it's done, shall we?
Emma used to be the best at it, do you remember?
Where is she?
Now put that down.
- Oh, yes, we got him! - Right on the hat!
A very strange letter from Mr. Elton,
saying he is sorry but he cannot visit me
and there's no mention of you, my dear Emma.
But I am not aware of having invited him over Christmas. Did you, my dear?
He says that when the snow is cleared he is going to visit Bath.
His friends have begged him for his company.
Your turn.
Come in.
Oh, Miss Woodhouse, how kind of you to come.
I know your time with the family is so precious.
How extremely thoughtful of you.
I have something small in return, it's just a trifle.
Why, Miss Woodhouse..
What's the matter?
Is someone ill?
I understand.
It is only natural that, that it should've been you, Miss Woodhouse,
that he preferred.
I never could have deserved him.
It is only because you are so good a friend that you thought it possible.
It is all my fault
and I bitterly regret the pain that I have caused.
No, you must not take any blame.
You are all goodness and he is so very far above me.
It was foolish and,
and conceited of me to,
to raise my sights to him.
It was you that he asked to marry.
- Maybe you would change your mind on matrimony? - Certainly not!
I would not change my mind, especially for someone as...
There is no blame attached to anyone but myself.
He WILL regret his decision,
for you are a far better person than I could ever be.
I do try so hard to forget about Mr. Elton
but he is such a superior example of manhood.
That verse he wrote was so very fine and noble,
even though it was for you.
"Ready wit", you see, of course he could never have meant me!
Oh, look, a lovely new window display.
I believe those are very like the gloves
Mr. Elton chose for last winter.
Just as it turned colder,
the brown with rabbit fur and so elegant.
I wonder if Miss Bates is at home?
Miss Bates! I know that it is Thursday
and therefore no possibility of hearing any news of Jane,
but do you have any news of Miss Fairfax?
How very kind, Miss Woodhouse,
but something most unusual has happened.
What a surprise she gave us.
No sooner did her letter arrive than she did!
Miss Fairfax!
I'm so pleased to see you again. Let me introduce Harriet Smith?
Oh, please, do sit down.
Jane was invited to go to Ireland,
with the Campbells, to visit their daughter
and her betrothed, Mr. Dixon.
- You and Miss Campbell are like sisters almost. - Oh, yes.
Ever since Jane left the vicarage to live with Captain Campbell.
Like her parents, she is kindness itself, she is elegant and gracious,
even if she is not as handsome as Jane.
Aunt!
Oh, I'm sorry, my dear, but it is the truth.
I believe your friend Mr. Dixon has a lovely estate in Ireland?
Oh, yes, it's quite beautiful, Jane says.
But she has decided to come here instead.
Jane says Ireland is so very beautiful.
Mr. Dixon has told Jane that...
What, what is the matter now, my dear?
I was merely about to point out, that as I am in the room,
it is not necessary to recount every detail of my letters.
Well, here...
The passage, if I remember...
I'm sure that...
Ah, here,
"On our many pleasant walks,
"Mr. Dixon talks of his family home with delicate affection and regard.
"Colonel and Mrs. Campbell were very particular about their daughter
"not being alone with Mr. Dixon,
"so Jane was their chaperone
"and with them always and all was right and proper."
You must feel very fortunate that the Campbells have allowed you home?
The Campbells have always treated me with love and generosity.
Indeed, they wanted to take her everywhere with them.
They are disappointed she cannot go to Galway.
Mr. Dixon in particular!
Mr. Dixon?
Oh, yes. He especially,
ever since the service he did Jane when they were in Weymouth.
Aunt!
Jane, dear, you may wish to, but I cannot forget.
We owe Mr. Dixon your life!
He saved your life?
How romantic! Who saved your life?
It was nothing.
Nothing, indeed!
Mr. Dixon saved her life.
It was in Weymouth last summer,
Jane and Mr. Dixon were out walking
with a party of Mr. Dixon and Miss Campbell's dearest friends,
when Jane slipped on a stone
and Mr. Dixon stepped in and saved her from almost certain death!
Ever since that moment, Miss Campbell's betrothed
has been a favourite in this house.
It was nothing. I, I was in no danger.
Jane hates fuss so much
she forbade me to write and thank him for his great service to us.
We do not wish Mr. Dixon to think you ungrateful.
He would not think that.
I mean, he would not think of me at all.
I wonder why the wonderful Miss Fairfax
should be so reluctant to acknowledge Mr. Dixon's saving her life.
I believe she is even more reserved than I remember,
so secretive and unforthcoming.
And why would she move home to Miss Bates' tiny little cottage
when she could go to Ireland to Mr. Dixon's no doubt boundlessly beautiful estate?
Unless there was another reason why she could not or would not?
Oh, what was that you said, Miss Woodhouse?
Excuse me, sir!
You seem lost, sir.
I am not lost.
Oh, forgive me for thinking you must be a stranger
and do not know your way. You seemed...
undecided as to where you were going.
- May I help you in the right direction? - You know this area?
I've lived here all my life. I think you will find me quite accurate.
I'm sure I would.
But I have no need of your direction.
I know exactly where I am.
Thank you for your trouble, all the same.
She does look a little subdued.
Are you really quite sure she is not ill with something?
No, she is not ill,
she is a little unhappy.
Harriet, dear, would you like a little tea?
And Cook has made some very pleasant biscuits.
I wondered if you had heard the news?
Oh, good. News.
We are in need of entertaining.
Well, I just, er, I just wanted to say that I was glad to hear
that you had made time to visit Jane Fairfax,
it was the right thing to do.
That is hardly news!
My dear Miss Woodhouse!
Thank you so much for the pork, such a beautiful hindquarter!
Have you heard the news? Mr. Elton is to be married.
Oh, what an emotional girl! We are all so happy for him!
He has been in Bath these four weeks only and he is engaged!
So very sudden... but then where love is concerned.
I am so pleased that you liked the pork.
We rear the pigs with great care here at Hartfield.
Oh, marvellous taste, I am sure.
What a tender heart she has to be so pleased for Mr. Elton.
Mother loves the hind of pig, best of all.
Her name is Miss Augusta Hawkins and she is worth Â£20,000!
Did you know, Mr. Knightley?
I am usually the last to discover glad tidings.
What about you, Miss Woodhouse?
I knew it!
I knew Miss Woodhouse would know all about this,
she who is so very wise and
reads the workings of the human heart so well.
Of course she would know.
I am sure I would always be the last
to know about matters of a romantic nature.
I wonder when the marriage will take place.
Well, we have only heard the first information of the engagement.
Miss Bates does not mean any harm.
Oh, I know
and that being so it is alarming how often she hits the mark.
I had genuinely thought Mr. Elton a good match for Harriet.
And I really do think her liaison with Robert Martin is not right for her.
I am sorry for it.
It is difficult to judge how to give others
the benefit of our... wisdom and insight.
Oh, yes, I know, yes.
You were right, I was wrong... in part.
But next time, if there is to be one, I will do better.
Have you told her our news?
Frank is coming home tomorrow!
Are you sure?
I was beginning to wonder if Frank actually exists,
he so often does not arrive when he is heralded.
I don't know why everyone always assumes that Frank will not come.
I see no reason to suppose that he takes pleasure in getting my hopes up, just to dash them.
The fact is,
I am so keen to see him that I cannot contain my disappointment
when the duty he owes to his aunt
means he has no choice but to stay by her side.
It is a great credit to you that he is so, so sensitive and gentlemanly.
It is not something that can be taught,
innate good manners could only have come from such a father.
Now, Miss Emma, I will make you a wager.
I will bring Frank to Hartfield
tomorrow afternoon at four o'clock precisely,
and you will see for yourself, once and for all,
that he is flesh and blood.
- Ah, Emma! There you are! - Miss Woodhouse.
May I present my son, Mr. Frank Churchill.
You have found your way to us at last!
I have heard so much about you, it is almost as if we had already met.
Ah, yes. Um, it's the strangest thing.
Once I was at last at liberty to visit,
well, I found my path here like an arrow from a bow.
I am obliged to you, Miss Woodhouse.
Er, I have many times set off, determined to visit my father
but on the way my, my conscience forced my return to my aunt,
who really is very ill.
And last week I almost made it to Randalls when I realised,
so short a visit as I could manage
would be even more hurtful and disrespectful
to the new Mrs. Weston than no visit at all.
And I would not hurt his feelings for the world.
Nor I.
I was saying to your father what a good pair you make.
I told Frank you would be his guide to Highbury.
That would be splendid. I do not know it well at all,
and, of course, I know no-one here except my, my dear father.
Although there is a family I must visit here.
- It's a, a Miss Baines, is it? - Miss Bates?
- Bates, yes. - My goodness, why?
Well, I met her niece, Jane Fairfax, in Weymouth.
Yes, I told Frank that though he will have seen Jane amongst equals in Weymouth,
here her family are in reduced circumstances
and it is important he show respect.
Weymouth?
They seem to be getting along very well.
So you are acquainted with the Campbells.
Did you see the incident?
Did not Mr. Dixon save Jane Fairfax's life?
Oh, er, yes, yes, it was the talk of the town.
- She said it was nothing. - Oh, did she indeed?
Well, all I can say is he acted very quickly.
He was, of course, standing very close to her.
Have you ever been to Weymouth, Miss Woodhouse?
Er, no.
I have never travelled outside of Highbury.
But you are so assured, so sophisticated.
No I, I felt sure you had.
No.
Highbury has everything I need.
- I never want to travel. - Oh, dear, no,
Emma has no need to travel anywhere.
Indeed so, sir.
Goose eggs! Goose eggs!
Is that an Irish breed?
Mrs. Weston.
Miss Woodhouse.
My duty to Miss Bates is done.
I meant to stay for only ten minutes but the good lady kept on talking.
I was there for three quarters of an hour
before I saw you and made my escape.
How did you find Miss Fairfax?
Ill, I thought, very ill. Oh, and so reserved.
You have heard the talk of her situation, of course?
What do you mean?
Well, if she must leave the Campbells
she will have to look for a position as a governess.
You must forgive me for gossiping!
I spent my whole childhood
hearing her virtues sung from the tree tops.
We are poles apart.
She is so reserved.
It's not a very attractive quality, to be sure.
One could never love a reserved person.
Oh, I take it you approve as much as me of my father's new wife?
I expected a woman of taste and judgement
but never one so young and pretty.
Ah, now that is a subject you would find me happy to talk about for hours.
Has there been any post, Father?
Not this morning, my dear. Why do you ask?
No reason.
Mr. Churchill told me that the Coles
are to celebrate their new improvements with a party.
Indeed he has persuaded them to have music.
Well, why should that bother you?
You would never dream of accepting an invitation from the Coles.
It is true that the Coles are in trade and are of low origin,
and I would never dream of accepting an invitation.
So what's the problem?
Oh, I see. You haven't had an invitation yet, have you?
The Coles would never invite us, or you, or the Westons.
- We are too superior.- Oh, I've had mine.
- Really?! - Pretty sure the Westons have, too.
The wonderful Mr. Churchill was the architect of the plan, after all.
Well, I think it very uncivil of the Coles.
You just said it would be rude of them to ask.
Yes, but...
But you wish to be able to refuse them in the manner in which you are accustomed.
Anyway, I am surprised to find you in today.
Why?
You are usually out and about nowadays whenever I visit.
Always in the company of the prodigal son.
Mr. Knightley, it does not become you to be sarcastic.
I do take pleasure in Frank Churchill's company,
as anyone but the sourest of personalities would,
but today he is out of town for the morning.
He doesn't come here for 20 years and then he disappears for a day?
He has urgent business.
He has gone to London to have his hair cut.
His hair cut. Of course, imperative business indeed!
It is an invitation from the Coles.
They did not like to ask us before
for they were anxious to first acquire a screen for the fire
so that Father might be at ease.
That is the kind of thoughtful, unpretentious people that they are.
But, of course, you must refuse them at once.
What are you waiting for?
Well,
as so many of my friends will be there,
and as Mr. Churchill is organising the music...
Mr. Cole, how lovely!
I see you have overcome your prejudice against the Coles.
Well, they were so very civil.
And I am not so proud that I cannot admit to changing my mind.
Anyway,
you are not so proud that you cannot take my advice.
The coach...
it is the arrival of a gentleman, at last.
I am happy to enter the room with you for once.
Nonsensical girl!
Miss Woodhouse!
We are in need of assistance that only you can give!
Well, I must say, it is a fine haircut.
Though I'm not sure why he needed to go all the way to London and back for it.
Oh, Miss Woodhouse, thank you so much for coming.
We are so honoured to invite you into our home.
I hope you will enjoy the evening.
I'm sure I shall. Thank you.
It was the most extraordinary thing.
I called on Miss Bates, and what should I see,
but the most enormous pianoforte addressed to Jane Fairfax?
It is a very elegant instrument, but so large.
Jane was quite at a loss as to who
as to who might have sent her this magnificent gift.
Well, who would have sent it?
Jane has no idea.
Well, it must be Colonel Campbell, surely?
She said he wrote recently and did not mention the gift.
It is a mystery!
Excuse me.
Why are you smiling?
Why are you?
I am happy that Colonel Campbell has sent Jane such a generous gift.
You look sceptical.
Do you have another candidate?
I seem to remember Mr. Dixon
thought Miss Fairfax unsurpassed at the piano.
Indeed! And how did Miss Campbell take that?
Poor Miss Campbell.
Imagine the misery of always having one's particular friend at hand,
to do everything so much better than oneself.
Surely it must be Colonel Campbell, hmm?
But why would Colonel Campbell do so in secret?
Why would he risk her reputation?
A gentleman would never risk a lady's reputation.
Unless, of course, he was most ardently in love.
- Of course. - Er, Miss Woodhouse.
Please,
would you do us the honour of playing?
# Oh, where, tell me where
# is your Highland laddie gone?
# Oh, where, tell me where
# is your Highland laddie gone?
# He has gone with streams of valours
# where noble deeds are done
# And my sad heart will tremble
# till he comes safely home. #
# Oh, where, tell me Where
# did your Highland laddie stay?
# Oh, where, tell me Where
# did your Highland laddie stay?
# He dwelt beneath the holly bush
# Beside the rushing Spey
# Where your blessing followed him
# the night he went away
# He dwelt beneath the holly bush
# Beside the rushing Spey
# And many a blessing followed him
# The night he went away. #
Miss Fairfax, would you, er, would you honour us with a brief tune?
Please, I insist, please.
She is so very much a better player than I am.
Tell me, my dear,
can you guess how Miss Bates and Jane Fairfax arrived here today?
Well, they walked, surely?
And so I thought. It struck me that Jane is not well
and would appreciate a ride home so I offered her our carriage.
She thanked me but said that Mr. Knightley
had sent his carriage to fetch them and would take them home.
I think he only brought his carriage for that purpose alone.
That is just what he would do. And he never said a word to me.
Ladies and gentlemen,
I have persuaded Miss Fairfax to perform three lovely ballads for us.
Mr. Churchill, please, one.
Surely she can't play all those,
you will tire her out with all this playing.
Oh, I assure you Miss Fairfax is...
Indeed, I have been thinking that our Mr. Knightley
might just have turned his mind to matrimony at last.
Oh, no, you are mistaken!
Mr. Knightley will never marry!
You could not be more wrong!
Donwell will go to my little nephew Henry.
Imagine Miss Bates at Donwell, haunting the place
and thanking him everyday for his kindness in marrying Jane!
He could not bear it!
Don't be unkind, Emma.
Miss Cole also sees a marked interest.
She and I think we have solved the mystery of the pianoforte.
And Knightley has often said that Jane deserves a better instrument.
Now you talk complete nonsense.
He would never do anything in secret.
He has always spoken very well of her
and he is so very anxious for her health.
# May he strut about
# With his whiskers curled
# Keep a hundred wives
# under lock and key
# And nobody else but himself to see
# Yet long may he pray
# with his Al Koran
# Before he can love like an Irishman. #
A gentleman would never risk a lady's reputation.
Unless, of course, he was most ardently in love.
We know how highly you think of Jane Fairfax.
Anyone may know how highly I think of Jane Fairfax.
I shouldn't be surprised if we were yet to hear wedding bells.
She had received a letter from Ireland that made her very happy.
Perhaps from her friend, Mr. Dixon.
A ball, Miss Woodhouse, what say you to a ball?
I say yes.
I am so happy to have any opportunity to dance.
Go, go, go!
Miss Smith.
I am sure he cannot be about to say
anything that you could not hear also.
I'm sure he can.
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