Emma (1972–…): Season 1, Episode 3 - Episode #1.3 - full transcript

(KNOCK AT DOOR)

Oh, Miss Woodhouse, how lovely!
My cold is nearly better.

- I do hope you had a happy Christmas.
- Very pleasant, thank you.

- Thank you for your gift.
- Thank you for yours.

- I've nearly finished it...
- Harriet, I have some unpleasant news to impart.

I scarcely know how to begin.

- Bad news, Miss Woodhouse?
- I am afraid so.

It concerns Mr Elton. It was
after Mrs Weston's party on Christmas Eve.

He is not ill? Say he is not ill?

No, Harriet, he is perfectly well.

But I feel I have been grossly deceived in him,
grossly deceived!



In Mr Elton? Oh, Miss Woodhouse!

Harriet, I do not know how to say this,

but the marked partiality
we both assumed his manner bore to you

was apparently intended to be directed at...

...at myself.

At you, Miss Woodhouse?

Then you mean he never...

Poor Harriet! I suffer for you, truly I do!

But what did he say? What did he do?

I have no intention of recounting the scene.

Sufficient to say that his behaviour in the carriage
coming home was both vulgar and offensive.

- Oh... Mr Elton?
- Yes, Harriet, Mr Elton.

Poor Harriet! You have every reason
to be distressed. But I blame myself very largely!

These last few wretched days, I have scarcely
known how to face the thought of telling you.



Miss Woodhouse, you have nothing in the world
to reproach yourself with! Nothing!

Dear Harriet, I only wish I had
half your good nature and sweet temper.

The fault was all mine.

It was foolish of me
ever to persuade myself that...

a man in Mr Elton's position could...

...could ever think of such a person as myself.

I will not argue with you, because I do not wish
to speak of this wretched business ever again.

- No.
- We must put it quite behind us.

- Yes.
- We must present a brave face to the world.

Now that Christmas is over we must go out and
about again, now that your cold is so much better.

Yes.

Nobody knows anything of this distressing affair

but you, myself, and the person concerned.

He at least has had the decency to go away.

Mr Elton gone away? Oh, where?

To Bath, Miss Bates says. And she is
generally well informed upon all such matters.

I must say, I am agreeably surprised
that he should show such delicacy.

(HARRIET SOBS)

Oh, Harriet!

I'm sorry, Miss Woodhouse.

I just can't seem to help it.

He was so handsome.

Whether it was the gruel
which was a little thicker than usual...

It's so unlike Cook.
She's most scrupulous as a rule.

Or whether it was the toast, I do not know.

But I heard the church clock strike
every quarter up to five o'clock.

- Emma!
- Mr Knightley!

- You're looking smart.
- I did not know you were here.

He has some rather melancholy news, my dear.

Oh?

You may consider it melancholy.
It doesn't disturb me or fill me with astonishment.

Mr Weston's son has once again
postponed his visit.

No!

Poor Mrs Weston. How very distressing for her!

Emma, you are not going out? It would be unwise.

Yes, Papa, I am. Now that Christmas is behind us
I have a number of calls I am obliged to make.

Dear Emma! Always so ready to wear herself out
in the service of others!

Excuse me, sir.

Really, I am deeply sorry for Mr and Mrs Weston,
that they should be put about in this manner.

I have no doubt Mr Churchill
has his reasons for the alteration,

but I have often thought that Mrs Churchill
must be a very exacting guardian.

Very likely indeed she's at fault. Even so.

If he had been so anxious to see his father,

he could have contrived it
between September and January.

Yorkshire is some considerable distance.

Distance did not prevent him
holidaying in Weymouth last summer.

No, Emma, it will not do.

A man who felt rightly would say, "My father has
married again. It is my duty to pay him a visit."

A fine show of gratitude to the aunt
who has the goodness to bring him up!

Really, Mr Knightley!
You are determined to think ill of him.

Me! Certainly not. I should be as ready
to acknowledge his merits as anybody.

But I hear of none, only that he's well grown and
good-looking and has smooth, plausible manners.

If he has nothing but that to recommend him,
he will still be a treasure in Highbury.

We do not often get the opportunity
to look upon fine, agreeable young men.

Can you not imagine
what a sensation his coming will bring?

There will be but one topic of conversation
over the parishes of Highbury and Donwell,

one object of curiosity, Mr Frank Churchill.

Hmph! You will have to excuse me
for being so overpowered, I'm afraid.

If he is agreeable to talk to
I shall be glad of his acquaintance,

but if he's merely a chattering coxcomb
he shan't occupy much of my time or thoughts.

My idea of him is that he will be able
to adapt his conversation to suit everybody.

To you he will talk of farming
and to me of music and drawing and so on.

What, only three and twenty and
already the practised drawing-room politician?

My dear Emma, your own good sense
would not tolerate such a puppy for five minutes.

I will speak no more about him.
We are both prejudiced.

- Prejudiced? I'm not prejudiced.
- No? Well, I am. In his favour.

My love of dear Mr and Mrs Weston make it so
and I am not ashamed of it.

And now, if you will forgive me, Mr Knightley.

I thought we would call first
upon Miss Bates and her mother.

Yes.

But I must warn you that a certain person's name
is bound to crop up in the course of conversation.

This must be painful to you, I know,
but you must learn to disguise your feelings.

- I will do my best, Miss Woodhouse.
- I am sure you will.

At least you will not have to listen too attentively
to Miss Bates.

And we should be spared her letter
from the all-too-perfect Miss Fairfax,

because her day for writing is generally a Friday.

- Yes, Miss Woodhouse.
- Come, now. Let me see your smile once again.

Miss Woodhouse! And Miss Smith!

Goodness, what a pleasant surprise! Come in!

- Thank you. We will not stay a moment.
- Sit down, won't you?

This is Harriet's first visit
since being unwell before Christmas.

Let me get you a little glass of something.

Mother, Miss Woodhouse has come to see you.
Is that not kind of her?

I heard them knock and I thought,
"Who can this be, this time of the day?

"It cannot be Mr Elton because he's away at Bath

"and enjoying a great round of social visits,
according to Mrs Cole."

But I'm so glad it was you,
because we have a visitor!

- A visitor?
- Yes! Can you not guess who? My niece Jane!

- Jane Fairfax is here?
- She arrived yesterday.

And is to stay with us for some time!

- She's upstairs in her room!
- Then please do not let us disturb you.

Patty! Patty dear!

Patty, run upstairs to Miss Jane's room

and tell her that Miss Woodhouse has called
with the express hope of finding her in!

It's so kind of you! She'll be delighted, I know.

Miss Woodhouse and my niece are just of an age
and grew up together, eh, Miss Woodhouse?

- Yes, but...
- You should see these two entering a ballroom!

Two such handsome girls it would be hard to find.

- Please, Miss Bates.
- That is the truth, miss, whatever you may say!

Oh, but poor Jane! She is not strong.

She lost her parents at an early age and has
been brought up by a Colonel and Mrs Campbell.

Very nice people. Gentlefolk, of course.

But she has nothing of her own

and now, owing to her circumstances,
she will have to find some sort of employment!

Before she comes down I must tell you,
she's received an excellent offer.

- An offer, Miss Bates?
- Yes, a Mr and Mrs Dixon!

A couple she met whilst on holiday at Weymouth.

A very elegant, well-connected couple,
I believe.

They were so taken with Jane that he has written,

positively insisting that she join their household
to teach the two young children music.

Is that not a fine offer?

Miss Fairfax must be very pleased,

but is it not a little unusual
for the gentleman to make the arrangement?

The Dixons are very highly thought of, I believe,
but you must get Jane to tell you all about it.

- If she does not come down in one moment...
- Ah, there you are, dear Jane!

- Look who is here, and come to see you.
- Good morning, Miss Fairfax.

- Good morning.
- Miss Smith, this is my niece Miss Fairfax.

- Good morning.
- Jane, you will want to sit by Miss Woodhouse.

You'll forgive these two, Miss Smith,
but you see how it is, I'm sure.

We will not stay for more than one moment.

- You must still be fatigued after your journey.
- Yes, a little.

- But you had good weather for it, I hope?
- Oh, yes, thank you. Very fair.

Good, I am so glad.

Travelling at this time of year can be so irksome,
I always think. Do not you?

Yes, very.

My only sorrow is I no longer have
an instrument for her to play upon.

She has the most delicate touch,
has she not, Mother?

I was saying what a pity it is we no longer
have our piano for Jane to play upon!

In our old home
things were quite different, Miss Smith.

Miss Bates, please feel free to bring Miss Fairfax
around at any time to use our instrument.

Miss Woodhouse, how generous!
How kind, eh, Jane?

Thank you.

Why not all come on Tuesday evening?

Then Miss Fairfax can play to her heart's content
and entertain us all at the same time.

- I hope you will come, Harriet.
- I would love to, Miss Woodhouse, thank you.

Miss Woodhouse, what a delightful suggestion!
Eh, Jane?

How can I thank you?

Your aunt tells me
you are about to take up a teaching post,

but I hope you will not be leaving us too soon.

Well, I'm afraid my future plans
are still extremely uncertain.

In your letter you said that the offer was definite
and you'd almost decided upon acceptance.

- You did, dear, I have the letter. Just a moment!
- Aunt!

Aunt! What I wrote you in my letter
was intended to be in confidence.

Oh, my dear, I am so sorry.

Jane love, I do apologise if I've said anything
unwise, but it seemed such a fine generous offer!

- Please, Aunt!
- From people of such standing, too!

I said to Mother they must be gentlefolk to
have made such a remarkably generous an offer!

- Did I not, Mother?
- Aunt, please!

We should be going.
I promised Harriet would not be late home.

- Miss Woodhouse, must you go?
- So we shall see you on Tuesday night.

Miss Bates. Miss Fairfax.

Jane dear! What is it?

What have I done?

Nothing, Aunt.

(PLAYS GENTLE MELODY)

(WHISPERS) Very pretty.

(SNORING)

(APPLAUSE)

Thank you, Williams.

Yes, a very pleasant evening, Emma.
Extremely pleasant.

Thank you, Mr Knightley.
I am most happy you approved on this occasion.

- Thank you, my dear.
- There, Papa.

Miss Fairfax played exceptionally well, I thought.

Exceptionally well.

- But you do not find her sympathetic?
- I did not say so.

My dear Emma, you have no need to.

If you want the truth,

I find her reserved.

I always told you that she was.
No doubt it arises from her circumstances.

- A natural diffidence, which you will overcome.
- You find her diffident. I do not see it.

But you had quite a long conversation with her.

Yes, I asked her all about her holiday
in Weymouth and plans for the future.

Well?

I was amused to find
how little information I obtained.

- I am disappointed.
- But she is an extremely elegant creature.

One cannot take one's eyes off her.

And I do pity her circumstances, from my heart.

Yes, it's most unfortunate that
their circumstances should be so confined.

- One wishes one could do more.
- Father?

Poor old Mrs Bates. She was quite
a gentlewoman by birth, you know. Oh, quite.

But I did not come here to discuss last night's
entertainment. No, I have an item of news...

Emma dear, remember to send them
a hind quarter of our own pork.

I have already done so, Papa.

Emma, I have an item of news
which might be of interest to you.

Mr Knightley, since when have you become
a bearer of gossip?

- If you do not wish to hear my information...
- I said nothing of that.

- Mr Cole...
- Make sure that they cut it into steaks.

- Nicely fried without too much grease.
- Yes, Papa.

Do not on any account let them roast it.
Do you hear me?

Hartfield pork is not rich, but it is still pork

and no young or delicate stomach
can digest it roasted.

Of course, Papa.

Now, what is this news of yours
that will interest me so much?

- I met Mr Cole...
- We were just passing by!

Mr Woodhouse! How are you this morning?
No, don't get up.

- Miss Woodhouse. Mr Knightley.
- Miss Bates.

How can I thank you? I'm quite overwhelmed.

Such a beautiful hind quarter of pork.

I said to Jane, "That must be from Hartfield!

"No one but the Woodhouses
could have been so generous."

And have you heard the news?

Mr Elton is to be married!

- Mr Elton?
- Yes, married!

A Miss Augusta Hawkins of Bristol!

So Mrs Cole's note said.
It only came five minutes ago.

Well, seven perhaps, would you say, Jane dear?

I'd gone down to see Patty about the salting pan
for the pork, and at that moment the note came!

Mr Elton to be married! I have no doubt he will
have everybody's wishes for his happiness!

I cannot see why he should be
in such a hurry to settle.

We were always pleased to see him as he was.

This will mean a new neighbour for us all,
eh, Miss Woodhouse?

My mother is so pleased. She says she cannot
bear to see the old vicarage without a mistress.

This is great news indeed!

You are silent, Miss Fairfax,

but I do hope you mean
to show an interest in this news.

When I have seen Mr Elton for myself
I have no doubt I shall be interested,

but I find it requires that with me.

Miss Augusta Hawkins of Bristol, so it is said!

I had thought it would be a lady from hereabouts

but then I'm not particularly quick
at these sort of discoveries.

Miss Woodhouse lets me chatter on!

She knows I wouldn't offend
for anything in the world.

How is little Miss Smith?
Quite recovered now, it seems.

Jane dear, I think we'd better be running along.
Good morning, Miss Woodhouse! Good morning!

Ooh, Mr Knightley is coming too! How very kind!

Is Miss Woodhouse in, please? May I see her?

Yes, miss, she's in the morning room.

Miss Woodhouse! What do you think
has happened? Oh, dear! Such a thing!

Oh, dear! Poor Harriet.
Do sit down and compose yourself.

- Thank you, Miss Woodhouse.
- There, now.

I left Mrs Goddard half an hour ago to come here

and I had not gone further than the high street
when it came on to rain.

I thought I would take shelter
for a moment in Ford's.

So there I waited, without thinking, ten minutes,

when who should come in but...

- Oh, I cannot say it! I still feel so strange.
- Who was it, Harriet? Who came in?

It was... Robert Martin

and his sister.

I thought for a moment I should have fainted.

I... I did not know what to do.

I could see them talking together
and then she came forward and spoke,

but, Miss Woodhouse, she did not speak
as she used. I could see she was altered.

Oh, I felt so dreadful!

And then he came up to me slowly,
as if he did not know quite what to do.

Goodness! I thought I should have dropped down.

And he spoke and... I answered,
I do not know what.

Then I took courage and said
it did not rain any longer and that I must go.

- What happened then?
- I came here as fast as I could. I ran all the way.

What should I have done? What should I
have said? I never felt so wretched in all my life!

But why?
You have no reason in the world to feel awkward!

- You think not?
- Of course not. None in the world.

Dear Miss Woodhouse! Do please speak to me
and make me comfortable again.

Oh, dear. Poor Harriet. I only wish I could.

But I have something to tell you
that will not please you.

Me?

Something that will hurt you
and may distress me greatly in the telling.

Harriet, Mr Elton is to be married.

To some person he met while staying in Bath,
so I understand.

Beyond that I am afraid I know very little.

A lady of noble birth, I suppose.

I feel it doubly unkind
that this blow should come so soon!

I think it cruel of him, really cruel!

- Poor Harriet!
- Please, take no notice of my foolishness!

I suffer for you, truly I do.

(WHISPERS) Miss Woodhouse.

How fortunate you are not to be as weak as I am!

Come, now, Harriet! The pain will soon pass.

Now you must be getting back to Mrs Goddard.
She will be wondering where you are.

Thank you, Miss Woodhouse.

Harriet, you have nothing in the world
to reproach yourself with.

I am sure you may hold up your head
in any company.

(WHISPERS) Yes, Miss Woodhouse.

- Emma, m'dear!
- Mr Weston! I did not know you were here.

Come in here. I have a little surprise for you,
something I think should please you, eh?

A visitor. Look, my son Frank.

- Mr Churchill.
- How d'you do?

I told you he'd come, didn't I? A day early, too!

Draw nearer the fire. You must be cold out there.

- Emma dear, find Mr...
- I'm so sorry.

- Please, please, allow me.
- Thank you.

I am not surprised that
you'd all begun to doubt my very existence.

But it was high time
that I paid my true home a visit,

especially now it is such a happy one.

Your stepmother's quite taken with the lad,
I must say.

I was not expecting to find a more than tolerably
well-looking person of a certain age.

I had no notion I'd find a pretty young woman.

Oh, hark at that, hey! You sly young rogue.

You cannot see too many perfections
in Mrs Weston for my liking!

Thank you! I have some business at the Crown
about a load of hay, so I must be getting along.

No, no, don't you come, Frank, my boy.

If she would tolerate your presence here
a little while longer...

Most certainly I would!

Thank you. Nevertheless, I think I had better
accompany my father. I have a call to make.

- A call?
- Who do you know in Highbury?

A Miss Baines or Bates? Though
I cannot claim to know the lady personally.

- Miss Bates.
- Oh, so you know her, then?

Everybody in Highbury knows Miss Bates
and her mother. They're friends of ours.

- How did she become an acquaintance of yours?
- She is not, sir.

But I recently met, briefly,
a kinswoman of hers, a Miss Fairfax.

I promised to call upon her aunt with news of her.

Jane Fairfax, her niece?
She is staying with her aunt now.

Miss Fairfax is here in Highbury?

Oh, excellent! Then my call upon her aunt
will be that much the pleasanter.

So, if you will excuse me.

Strange, I was only speaking to Miss Fairfax
yesterday. She did not mention the acquaintance.

Then she has forgot it already. If that is so,
never mind. My visit need be no more than brief.

But if you are calling on Miss Bates,
let my servant direct you.

Let nobody be put to such trouble.
Father can direct me.

But he is only going to the Crown

and Miss Bates lives several houses further down
quite on the opposite side.

It's a very muddy walk, unless you keep
to the footpaths. James can tell you.

My good friend, it's kind of you, but Frank knows
a puddle of water when he sees one. Don't you?

I trust so, sir, I trust so. Though I am
extremely grateful for the offer, of course.

Well, goodbye, Miss Woodhouse.

I sincerely hope we may have many more
opportunities of meeting while I am here.

I hope so, Mr Churchill.

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

Emma, my child! You are not going out, I trust?

I wish to go to Ford's for a reel of pink thread.

But one of the girls will go, if you ask them.

It is a question of matching the colour
with some exactness, Papa.

- Besides, the exercise is beneficial to my health.
- But not in this sharp unpleasant wind, surely?

(DOOR SLAMS)

Oh, dear, oh, dear!

Thank you.

(SHOP BELL RINGS)

- Emma!
- Miss Woodhouse!

Good morning!

- What brings you out so early, pray?
- A small domestic errand. And you?

One cannot come to Highbury without
entering Ford's, or so my father tells me.

All the finest people of the neighbourhood
congregate here daily, I am told.

Our meeting you like this proves the point!

So, I must buy something at Ford's
to establish my position as a citizen.

Well, now, what shall it be? A pair of gloves!

I admire your patriotism, Mr Churchill!

I am sure you were well respected
as Mr Weston's son.

Lay out half a guinea for a pair of Ford's gloves
and you will be beloved by all in your own right!

- It shall be done.
- Emma, I am leaving him in your charge.

- But, Mrs Weston...
- I have some calls to make.

Meet me later at Miss Bates'. Goodbye, Emma.

Goodbye, Mrs Weston.

This way, Mr Churchill.

- Mr Perkins?
- Good morning, Miss Woodhouse. Sir.

Good morning.

Perkins, I wish to see a pair of gloves,
please, for morning use.

Yes, sir, certainly, sir. In kid or York tan?

Let me see both. I have a small hand, I am afraid.

Yes. Yes, that will be a narrow fitting, I fancy, sir.

If you'll pardon me just one moment,
I shall have to go to the stock room.

You... paid your duty call, I trust?

- My duty call?
- Upon Miss Bates the other day.

Oh, yes! Yes, of course.

I was about to mention it. Miss Woodhouse,
you might as a friend have prepared me!

For Miss Bates? Really, Mr Churchill,
she is a worthy and excellent woman.

- I will not hear a word to her detriment.
- Then you shall not from me, I assure you.

- And Miss Fairfax? You saw her also, I hope?
- I did.

To be honest, Miss Woodhouse, I was somewhat
dismayed to see such a marked loss of looks.

- No, perhaps I should not say that.
- She is accounted extremely handsome.

- She is extremely handsome, in my opinion.
- Yes, yes. She has a fine face. Very fine!

Yet such a pallid complexion, has she not?

And coupled with such reserve of manner!

She is reserved, certainly.
That is my own opinion.

But, to be fair, she has her reasons, I fancy.
You know her circumstances, I expect?

Her lack of fortune and that she's obliged
to seek employment as a governess?

It must be
an extremely unpleasant prospect for her.

I am afraid if I were in her position
I would be far less agreeable than she!

You have made me ashamed
of my want of sympathy, Miss Woodhouse.

I shall endeavour to mend my ways towards her.

No, no, Mr Churchill.
I meant to imply no criticism of you.

But she is reserved, certainly.

It is my own opinion. I have often used
the word in describing her myself.

But where I am critical, you are understanding.

Well, I must confess to a slight wickedness

in my objection to hearing her so idolised
and praised upon all sides.

You know, Mr Churchill, she only has to touch the
piano for the whole company to go into raptures!

I have myself heard report of her playing.

There is the question of her coldness of manner.

Yes, it is a most unattractive quality, to be sure.

It is very difficult to feel an intimacy
towards a cold person, would you not say?

Certainly there has never been intimacy
between Miss Fairfax and I.

I have no reason to think ill of her,
not in the least bit. But such reserve of manner!

And such a fear of giving a distinct opinion
or of making a direct statement...

almost leads one to the suspicion
that she must have something to conceal.

I declare I have no notion in the world
from whom it could have come!

No notion in the world!

We were just sitting down to dinner, were we not,
Jane dear, when there came a knock at the door.

"Ooh," I said, "who can that be? It cannot be
Miss Woodhouse. I know they have company."

There he stood, the van man, on the doorstep.

"Miss Fairfax?" he said.
"I have a special delivery for a Miss Fairfax."

- That is what he said, is it not, Jane?
- Yes, Aunt.

It certainly is a fine instrument.

- Very fine indeed. Is it not, Emma?
- Remarkably fine.

And you have no notion
from whom it may have come?

Well, we have our own opinions on the matter.

- Have we not, Jane dear?
- Have we, Aunt?

Her guardian Colonel Campbell is
a very wealthy man, of most liberal disposition,

so I feel sure we haven't far to seek.

Yes, he must be the benefactor, of course.

- My goodness! What a generous present!
- Yes, is it not?

But then he thinks most highly of Jane's playing,
as of course we all do.

Jane dear, there is no need to look at me so!

Miss Woodhouse, do you agree? Do you
think Colonel Campbell the most likely donor?

Really, Mr Churchill, I cannot form an opinion.
I know nothing whatever of the gentleman.

I see by your expression
that you rather suspect another source.

I must confess that Colonel Campbell's
was not the first name that sprang to my mind.

What do you say to Mrs Dixon?

Mrs Dixon? You mean the lady
whose children she is to teach? Mrs Dixon?

Oh, yes. Yes, of course.

The mystery is more like a young woman's
scheme than that of the elderly Colonel Campbell.

Then you must include Mr Dixon
as a possible benefactor.

Mr Dixon? I see that your comprehension
is one stride ahead of even my own.

No, forget that I spoke.

Yes, of course, you have it.
Dixon is the fellow. An offering of love.

Emma dear?

Mr Churchill, if you repeat one word
of what I have said, I will be very angry.

I'm sorry, Mrs Weston.
Were you speaking to me?

We were discussing what to wear
at Mrs Cole's party.

We thought we ought to know your choice.

I was not aware until this moment
that Mrs Cole was entertaining.

- You and Mr Woodhouse have not been invited?
- Good gracious me! Very strange!

- Such a nice unassuming person! How strange!
- I think not, Miss Bates.

As we have not yet had the pleasure
of Mr and Mrs Cole's company at Hartfield

she is quite right in not including us.

But everybody is going.
Dr and Mrs Perry and Harriet Smith...

Harriet? Good, I am so glad!
How kind of Mrs Cole.

- Mr and Mrs Weston. And Mr Churchill, I hope.
- Indeed, ma'am.

- You are going? You have accepted?
- Why? Should I not have done?

I was hoping that I might have the pleasure
of dancing with you, Miss Woodhouse.

Dear Mr Knightley has offered us his carriage,
Jane and me. To save hiring, you know.

Mr Knightley is going to Mr and Mrs Cole's?
Are you sure?

Yes. He made a point of saying
he would come round this way and call for us.

At half past five. That is right, is it not, Jane dear?

I think that is what he said, yes.

Oh.

Thank you, Williams.

Oh, how very kind!

- What is it, Father?
- Mrs Cole has invited us to dinner on Thursday.

- But I thought...
- She apologises for the short notice.

But they wanted to ensure the arrival of a folding
screen to protect me from any draught of air.

Oh!

How very thoughtful of them.

Yes, it's very kind, very civil of Mrs Cole.

Oh, dear, but I am not fond of dinner-visiting.
Late nights don't suit either of us.

- But we need not stay late, Father.
- No, I... I really think I must refuse.

However, as they are very anxious
to have your company I don't wish to prevent it.

Provided the weather be what it ought,
neither too damp, nor cold, nor windy.

Thank you, Father.

Ah, if poor Miss Taylor hadn't married
she would have stayed at home with me.

But, Papa, you need not dine alone. Mrs Goddard
will come and keep you company, I am sure.

Thank you, my dear.
Now, that would be most agreeable.

Yes, you will make my excuses
as civilly as possible.

Have a word with James.

Tell him to wait with the carriage.
You will be soon tired of all that noise.

Father, I cannot leave early.
It would break up the party.

No great harm if it does. The sooner
every party breaks up the better, in my opinion.

- Is everything to your liking?
- Most certainly, Mrs Cole.

I am so glad.

Jones, would you remove the table?

- Miss Bates?
- Yes? Delicious! You must compliment them.

- I had it sent down especially for you.
- Did you? I have a little weakness.

Miss Woodhouse, please do not sit there!

- You cannot be comfortable.
- I am quite comfortable, thank you, Mrs Cole.

- But are you not too far from the fire?
- Not in the least, thank you.

These fires do not always throw out a great heat.
I'm sure I do not know why.

I asked Mr Cole specially
to see that the logs were quite dry.

I cannot bear a fire that does not blaze. Can you?

Ah, here are the gentlemen at last!

Come along and join us, sir!
Please come along, do!

We are all mightily glad to see you again.
Are we not, ladies?

There, that is he. That is Mr Frank Churchill.

He has almost a look of Mr Elton as he stands
there. Do you not think so, Miss Woodhouse?

- No, I do not, Harriet!
- Oh. Perhaps you are right.

Mr Knightley and my father are still busily
settling the affairs of the parish over their port.

I thought I would seek more congenial company.

- May I join you?
- Of course. This is Miss Harriet Smith.

- How do you do?
- Take my chair, sir!

- Oh, no, no, no!
- Yes, let her.

Harriet prefers to sit nearer the fire,
do you not, Harriet?

Oh, yes, Miss Woodhouse.

Well, what do you think of her? Is she not pretty?

Exceedingly pretty. And has
a rather disarming naivety of manner, I would say.

She is the sweetest girl imaginable.

Oh, dear! I have been here a week tomorrow,
nearly half my time already.

- I've never known the days fly by so fast.
- Really, Mr Churchill?

Yet you wasted one of them by going all the way
back to London merely to have your hair cut.

- Is that right?
- Not wasted, Miss Woodhouse.

I can have no pleasure in meeting my friends
unless I can feel myself fit to be seen.

But, talking of hair,
have you noticed Miss Fairfax?

The style she has adopted this evening
is the oddest thing I have ever seen.

Mr Churchill, you are too unkind.

No, but have you ever in your life
seen anything so outré?

She has a very fine face. No doubt she feels
she has the features to carry off such a style.

Perhaps it is all connected with the mysterious
gift of the piano. What do you say to that, eh?

Whatever do you mean?

Well, possibly a certain gentleman, whose name
I think we can both guess, admires it that way

and it is done as a secret tribute to him.

We both agreed that we would speak no further
on that subject, did we not?

Did we? I don't recall.

Now, that is going too far. As a fellow member
of her sex, I feel I must come to her defence.

I shall go across
and quite casually compliment her on it.

- Watch. See whether she changes colour.
- Mr Churchill, you really are too unkind!

- May I sit here with you a moment?
- Of course, Mrs Weston.

Emma dear, I have been longing to talk to you.

I must confess I have been having thoughts and
making plans in my mind quite worthy of yourself.

Do you know how Miss Bates
and Jane came here tonight?

Yes, Mr Knightley brought them in his carriage.

- Does that not strike you as significant?
- Not in the least. Why, should it?

But Mr Knightley,
who always walks everywhere,

never orders out his carriage
on such an occasion.

And Miss Fairfax, so well known
to be susceptible to the cold.

Can you not see more to it than that?

Emma! You who are generally so sharp
in perceiving such things.

Mr Knightley and Jane Fairfax!

No, no, it cannot be!

But why not?

No, you are mistaken, I am sure.

Mr Knightley would do her any good deed
he could because he is that kind of man, but not...

No!

The greatest good he could do her would be to
marry her and give her a fine respectable home.

It would be excellent for her, but it would be
a disastrous connection for him, poor man.

Can you not imagine having
Miss Bates haunting Donwell every day,

perpetually thanking him for his generosity
in marrying her darling Jane?

- "Oh, so very kind and obliging!"
- Dear Emma! You cruel girl!

- I should not laugh.
- Oh, no, no.

Mr Knightley has no need to marry.

He has all the friends a man could wish for and all
the companionship. Besides, it would not be fair.

Not fair? To whom?

To... To little Henry, his nephew.

He is to inherit Donwell.
It is all perfectly understood.

Oh, no. It is quite unthinkable.

And Jane Fairfax of all women!

Emma, really!

Now, Miss Fairfax, we have all heard
such great things of your playing and singing.

May I ask that you will entertain us?

Please, Mrs Cole, if I might be forgiven
this evening. I have a slight cold.

But Miss Fairfax! That is the chief reason
for our all meeting together like this!

I am extremely sorry, Mrs Cole.

I think she wants but a little persuasion, Mrs Cole.

Come, come!
You cannot disappoint us all like this.

Oh, Miss Fairfax, please!

Yes, there you are, you see. You cannot refuse.

Very well. If I must.

Allow me to turn over for you.

Poor girl. She should not be forced in this manner.

Ah! Here is that charming song that used
to delight the company so much at Weymouth.

- How about that, eh?
- As you wish.

Now, everybody, will you please be quiet?

Miss Fairfax is to sing to us.

- Especially now that she can practise.
- Miss Bates.

- Oh.
- Thank you.

# Oft, in the stilly night

# Ere slumber's chain has bound me

# Fond memory brings the light

# Of other days around me

# The smiles, the tears, of boyhood years

# The words of love then spoken

# The eyes that shone, now dimm'd and gone

# The cheerful... #

I'm so sorry. I have a hoarseness in my throat.

Oh, dear me!

- Come, try it again. It's quite simple.
- No, please, I can't.

- Let me sing it with you.
- Please forgive me.

- But...
- Let the poor girl stop if she wants to.

Well, now! Well, perhaps the young people
would care for a little dancing.

Would you mind moving the furniture?

- I wonder if you'd be so kind as to play for us.
- Yes, of course.

(MRS COLE) Now, will somebody please
take the floor? Who will give us a lead?

- Ah!
- Miss Woodhouse?

- No, thank you.
- Miss Woodhouse, are you not dancing?

Miss Woodhouse, this is a pleasure
that I have long promised myself. May I?

Most certainly you may, Mr Churchill.

Thank you.

Synchro: Peterlin