Emma (1972–…): Season 1, Episode 6 - Episode #1.6 - full transcript

Miss Bates is in the other room, miss,

- if you'd care to sit down a moment.
- Thank you, Patty.

- Miss Woodhouse is here, Miss Bates.
- Who? 0h, dear, oh, goodness me.

- Jane dear, would you?
- (JANE) Please, I just cannot.

0h, no, no, dear, of course not.

I shall just say you are upstairs upon the bed.
You look bad enough to be so.

- Er... tell her I'll be with her in a moment.
- Yes, miss.

Miss Bates begs to be excused, miss.
She won't be long.

Thank you, Patty.

Oh, Miss Woodhouse, how exceedingly kind.

I, erm... I had thought for a moment
it might be Mr Frank Churchill.



He promised to call to mend my mother's
spectacles again, but he has not been.

I, er... I expect you've come to congratulate Jane
on her post with Mrs Elton's friend in Bristol.

She will be very gratified, I'm sure.

- Miss Bates, that was not really...
- So kind. She will be pleased.

Dear Jane. It will be very trying
to part with her after so long.

Poor child, she's... she's retired to bed
with the most excruciating headache

and I've positively forbidden her to see anyone.

- I...
- "Jane," I said, "lie there till you feel better."

I'm very sorry to hear this, Miss Bates,

but to be honest,
my reason for coming concerns yourself.

She would sit up till all hours last night
writing letters.

I said to her, "Jane, you will surely blind yourself."

That is exactly what I said, and so it has proved.

Miss Bates,
I have it greatly upon my conscience



that something I may have said yesterday
upon Box Hill

may have caused you pain.

What? Who, me, dear?

I could not sleep last night for thinking of it.
Please forgive me.

Oh, I do not recall anything, nothing at all.

Even if you did, I'm sure it was not intentional.

Why, you're always so generous, so kind,
both you and dear Mr Woodhouse.

Goodness me, what can have happened
to Mr Frank Churchill?

Poor Mother cannot see a thing, and it's so
unlike him not to come when he has promised.

Yesterday forenoon,
the weather appeared so bright

that I foolishly extended my usual walk
as far as the fifth beech tree.

- Really?
- So today I'm paying a little for my rashness.

I'm sorry to hear that, sir.
If you'll excuse me, I'm...

Emma, my dear, such melancholy news.
Mr Knightley is leaving us.

Leaving us?

I am to see my brother John and Isabella
in London, that is all.

Have you any message beyond the usual love,
which nobody remembers to carry?

No, nothing particular.

- This scheme is rather sudden, is it not?
- I have had it in my mind for some time.

Oh, before I go, I do have
one piece of truly melancholy news.

Mrs Churchill has been taken gravely ill
and is not expected to live beyond the month.

- Oh, dear.
- Poor Mrs Churchill.

Ah, you do not surprise me,
you do not surprise me at all.

Frank Churchill had a message
waiting for him last night.

One must expect such news
when one reaches my age.

I hope you found my dear old friend
Miss Bates in good health,

and not too fatigued after her outing?

You have been visiting Miss Bates?

Yes. There was something on my mind
I particularly wished to say to her.

Good.

- You did well.
- Thank you.

Well, goodbye, Mr Woodhouse.
Take good care of yourself.

Goodbye, dear friend.
Please do not leave us for long.

Goodbye.

So now it is poor Mrs Churchill.

Grievous news, grievous news indeed.

Too cold, no doubt,
moving from one room to another.

Poor Mrs Churchill. To be honest,
I had not thought her so gravely ill.

I know, Miss Woodhouse.
It is very sad, indeed it is.

Her passing will come
as something of a shock to us all.

Yes, Miss Woodhouse.

I fancy it will alter Mr Frank Churchill's
circumstances considerably.

Yes, I suppose so, Miss Woodhouse.

It is doubly unfortunate
it should come at this moment

with Mrs Weston so near her time
and in such delicate health.

- Yes, Miss Woodhouse.
- (KNOCK AT DOOR)

Miss Woodhouse,
Mr Weston wishes to see you most urgently.

Mr Weston?

Oh, Mr Weston, is anything wrong?

Oh, my dear, 'tis nothing
to do with what you're thinking,

but Mrs Weston would like you
to come all the same, if you will.

- Yes, of course I will, but can you not tell me?
- I'd rather not, my dear, if you don't mind.

Oh... Oh, very well,
one moment while I get my shawl.

(DOOR CLOSES)

- Mrs Weston, what is it?
- Please sit down, my dear.

Thank you, my love.

Emma, we have this morning

received a wholly unexpected visit
from my husband's son Frank.

I hope you conveyed my very real sorrow
at Mrs Churchill's death?

Yes, of course, but you realise, do you not, my
dear, that this will greatly alter his circumstances?

- You mean he will inherit?
- Well, yes, but...

Emma, he came this morning

expressly to speak to his father
on another matter concerning his future.

- Oh?
- Oh, Emma, dear,

I hardly know how to tell you this,
but he... he has an attachment.

Indeed?

In fact, it would be truer to say
that he is engaged to be married.

Mr Churchill? To whom, pray?

To Jane Fairfax.

Jane Fairfax?

In fact, they were already engaged
before he first came here.

- Good God! You are not serious?
- Ever since their meeting at Weymouth.

Please believe that neither his father nor I had
the slightest suspicion of this until this morning.

Then how could he allow Jane
to... to take a post as a governess?

Oh, Emma, he knew nothing of this.
On that score at least, I can acquit him.

No doubt his persistent attendance of late
on Mrs Churchill had led Jane to...

to question the wisdom
of placing too much reliance on his loyalty.

Hence the decision to take the post in Bristol.

Poor girl. I fear she must have suffered
very much to have taken such a step.

So. He was engaged all the time.

This circumstance will take me at least half a day
to think about before I can begin to digest it.

I do not wonder at your astonishment,
or your anger.

There is one aspect of his behaviour
which neither his father nor I can ever forgive.

I think you must know what I mean.

Oh, my anger, if I have any,

is not for myself.

Oh, I will not deny that when he first came,
I greatly liked him.

Indeed, for a while, I allowed myself
to become a little attached to him.

But that time is past, thank heaven.

I hardly know how or why.

Oh, Emma.

- Oh, dearest Emma, I must embrace you...
- Oh, no, please, you must not exert yourself.

Mr Weston will be so relieved.

You see, it was our dearest wish
that you two would form an attachment.

Then to receive this news this morning...
imagine our feelings.

Yes. I have escaped,

- but that does not acquit him, Mrs Weston.
- No, it does not.

What right had he to come among us women

with affections already engaged
and manners so very disengaged?

You have every right to feel as you do, Emma.

Nevertheless, I... I still feel that for you,
he had a very special regard.

That much, I am sure, was genuine.

Yes, his behaviour toward me
was certainly very marked,

but how could Jane have borne it so calmly?

To stand by while repeated attentions
are made to another woman before one's face?

That shows a degree of detachment
I can neither understand nor respect.

I think perhaps she did resent it, Emma,

and that is why her manner towards you
has always been so cool.

Perhaps.

Then that I can understand

and I withdraw my imputation.

But I am not thinking of myself.

I am quite old enough and wise enough
in the ways of the world to need no protection.

Others are not.

There are some more trusting than myself,

less able to form cool judgements and...

and therefore exposed to greater hurts.

Well, Miss Woodhouse,
is it not the oddest news in the world?

- What news is that, Harriet?
- About Jane Fairfax and Mr Churchill.

Did you ever hear anything so strange?

Mr Weston told me himself.

He said it was still to be a great secret,
but that you knew it already.

Yes, Harriet, I did.

Had you any idea of his being in love with her?

But then I expect perhaps you had...
You who can see into everybody's heart.

- I am beginning to doubt I ever had the talent.
- Oh, Miss Woodhouse.

If I had, you may be sure
that rather than give you hope,

I would have cautioned you accordingly.

Me? Why caution me, Miss Woodhouse?

Surely you do not think I care for Mr Churchill?

Oh, Harriet, I am delighted to hear you speak so,

but you will not deny
that you did give me reason at one time

to believe that you cared for him?

Oh, no, Miss Woodhouse, never.
Really, how could you so mistake me, I wonder?

Well, er... I know we agreed
never to name names, but...

considering how infinitely superior he is
to everybody else,

I would not have thought it possible
that I could mean any other person.

Really, Miss Woodhouse, I should hope I had
better taste than to think of Mr Frank Churchill.

Well, Harriet, if the object of your attachment
is not Mr Churchill, then who?

Oh, Miss Woodhouse,
how can you ask such a thing?

You who know me so well and have been
always acquainted with the gentleman.

Harriet, let us now be quite clear upon this,
beyond any shadow of a doubt.

Are you now speaking of Mr Knightley?

But of course, Miss Woodhouse.

Who else? I thought when we talked of him,
it was clear as possible.

When we talked, it was of Mr Churchill's
kindness in rescuing you from the gypsies.

Oh, no, Miss Woodhouse,
I was meaning that time at the ball

when Mr Elton refused to dance with me

and Mr Knightley rescued me
from my wretchedness.

I see.

Well, let us suppose, then, since you have
this particular affection for Mr Knightley...

Have you any reason to suppose it is returned?

Yes... I must say that I have.

Oh, what, pray?

Well, it... it was the other day at Donwell,

when he so particularly sought me out
to show me round the garden.

Perhaps you did not notice, Miss Woodhouse.

I remember him speaking to you
for a moment, certainly.

Oh, it was more than a moment.

Much, much more.

He led me by the arm to the extreme end
of the path beyond the orchard

especially to show me a view of the farm
he rents to Mr Martin.

He must have remembered that
I used to stay there long ago when I was a girl.

Oh... he was most particular in his kindness
and attention to me, Miss Woodhouse.

I will only say that I know Mr Knightley
to be the last man in the world

who would wittingly lead a woman to believe
he cares for her more than he really does.

Yes. Yes, that is true.

He is altogether too fine a man,
is he not, Miss Woodhouse?

- Oh, it is to you I owe all this happiness.
- To me?

Oh, yes, do you not see
that if you had not brought me out so,

I would never have dared even to speak to him.

Oh, dear, dear Miss Woodhouse, I shall never
be able to repay you as long as I live.

There, I must go. I promised Mrs Goddard
I would be home some half-hour ago.

Oh, my mind has quite gone to pieces
these days, I'm afraid.

Mr Knightley.

(SIGHS)

Does it still rain?

Yes, it still rains.

It's poor Mrs Weston who most concerns me
in such weather as this.

I said, it's poor Mrs Weston I'm thinking about.

Oh, yes, Father.

It will be a relief when this sorry business
is over and done with.

Poor Miss Bates.

She'll miss her niece more than she imagines.

Oh, I wish Mr Knightley
would come back from London.

It seems so strange without his visits.

Where is Williams?
It must be almost time for my morning gruel.

I think the rain is easing off a little.

It's a sad thing when one lives, as it were,
from one cup of gruel to the next.

Emma, you're not thinking of going out?

- Yes, Father.
- But my child, my child!

Oh, dear.

Emma!

- I was told you were in the garden.
- Mr Knightley.

I had no notion you had come back from London.

- When did you return?
- This morning.

- Oh, then you had a wet journey, I'm afraid.
- Yes, I did. Very unpleasant.

Your father, he is well,
despite that dreadful weather?

Perfectly, thank you.

He really does not mind
being obliged to remain indoors.

It is I who suffer, in temper at least.

- Er... whom were you about to visit? Harriet?
- Harriet? Oh, no, no.

I was not visiting,
merely taking the air a little, that is all.

May I join you?

Please do.

(EMMA) The trees still drip.

- (EMMA) Shall we take shelter?
- By all means.

Well, Mr Knightley, have you heard the news?

What kind of news? Not unpleasant, I hope?

Oh, no, pleasant. Very pleasant.

There is to be a wedding.
What could be more pleasant than that?

You mean Jane Fairfax and Frank Churchill.

Who told you? Only I and...
one or two others know of it.

A note from Weston on parish matters
mentioned it.

- Oh, Mr Weston.
- So, like most secrets, it's well known to all.

I am sure you are less surprised
than any of us, Mr Knightley.

I remember once you cautioned me.

I do wish I had attended to it,

but I seem to have been doomed to blindness

upon a great many matters.

Poor Emma.

Do not take it too much to heart.

Oh, I... I do not, I assure you.

- What right have I to do so?
- Time...

- None whatever.
- Time, dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.

Yes. Yes, of course.

Your own excellent good sense

and the need your father has of you,

these surely must be some comfort to you.

Oh, yes, they are, most certainly.

The abominable villain... Scoundrel!

Poor Jane deserves better, in my opinion.

- Jane?
- Much, much better.

Oh, it's a sorry business for all concerned,
if you ask me.

Oh, Mr Knightley, you are quite mistaken.

I can assure you, I need no sympathy
where that match is concerned.

Emma, is this really true?

Oh, yes. I can swear it from my heart.

(LAUGHS)

Then whom did you think I meant?

I... I was not sure that...

That is, I think I somewhat mistook your meaning.

- I thought perhaps you referred to...
- Hm?

But no matter.

(SIGHS) My blindness
where Mr Frank Churchill was concerned

led me to act very foolishly, I see that now.

The fault was mainly his. I am sure
you had little with which to reproach yourself.

Oh, I can assure you, that is not so.

I have very little to say in my own defence.

I was tempted by his attentions,
my vanity was flattered.

I see now that I was merely a blind
to conceal his sure feelings for her

and I was taken in with all the rest.

The man is a villain, utterly beneath contempt.

Except that somewhere inside,
I think perhaps I was not quite taken in.

Something, I... I know not what,
has kept me safe from him.

Oh, well, perhaps there may be some hope
for him yet. She may save him.

I do know your high opinion of her.

Indeed, he is a favourite of fortune (!)

He meets with a young woman on holiday,
he gains her affection, but his aunt is in the way.

Then his aunt dies.

He has used everybody ill
and they're all delighted to forgive him.

He is indeed a fortunate young man
to draw such a prize,

because no man, in my opinion,
whoever he may be,

can fail to benefit from the company
of a good-hearted, honest woman.

You speak as though you envied him,
Mr Knightley.

(CHUCKLES) Yes.

Yes, in this one respect at least, I do envy him.

And never more so than at this moment.

(SIGHS) You do not ask me why, I notice.
You are determined to have no curiosity.

- That is not the reason.
- You are wise, no doubt, very wise.

But I... I can be wise no longer.

I must tell you what you will not ask, even though
I may wish it unsaid the next moment.

Then please do not say it, Mr Knightley,
please, please do not say it.

Very well. As you wish.

Perhaps we should go in. Your father
must wonder what has become of you.

Please forgive me, Mr Knightley.

It is just that I could not bear for anything
to spoil our long and happy friendship.

So tell me what you wish

and I will hear it

and try to give my true opinion as a friend.

As a friend?

(LAUGHS WRYLY) Oh, my dear Emma,
I have no wish...

Well, never mind, never mind. So be it.

I...

I accept your offer, strange as it may seem.

As a friend, then, hm?

So tell me, have I no chance of ever succeeding?

- Mr Knightley, I think perhaps...
- My dearest Emma,

whatever the outcome of this conversation,

my dearest, most beloved Emma,

- Mr Knightley...
- Tell me at once. Say no if it must be said.

Oh, you... you know
I cannot make speeches, Emma.

If I loved you less, I could talk about it more.
You know what I am.

And I've blamed you and lectured you

and you've borne it all more than
any other woman in England would have done.

God knows, I've been a very indifferent lover.

But you understand me, I know you do.

And at this moment,

all I want is to hear your voice.

Tell Cook to keep water boiling
in case she has met with an accident!

- Yes, sir.
- And send one of the boys to Dr Perry.

- Tell him to come at once! At once, mind!
- Yes, sir.

Oh, why ever did I consent to her going?

It was the wildest folly, sheer madness!

I shall blame myself for the rest of my life.

To think that it has taken me so long to recognise
what was there before my eyes all this time.

And I, who thought myself
so expert upon these matters,

could not even see into the workings
of my own heart.

Oh, we are a sorry pair of fools, you and I,

but we need not admit as much
to anyone but each other.

I have only one worry in all this,

and that is my father.

Oh, yes, your father.
He does pose something of a problem.

But I think for the moment
we should keep silent, do not you?

- Yes, I fear so.
- Until a favourable opportunity presents itself.

Are you quite sure you're not cold, my love?

Father, I keep telling you,
I have never felt better in the whole of my life.

Is that not enough to reassure you?

Had I known you were with Mr Knightley,
I should not have been so concerned.

Forgive me, but I'm sure you realise
that this child is my most cherished possession.

I fear I'm a very tiresome,
sad old invalid these days.

Poor Emma is the sufferer.

Ah, but it's a great comfort in one's latter years
to have such selfless devotion, a great comfort.

- I hope that you will be suitably rewarded.
- Thank you, Father.

And now, I know Mr Knightley will forgive
a father's concern, but I think you should rest.

- Rest, Father? But why?
- You've had a strenuous day.

You are good enough to look after me.
I shall do the same for you.

- Mr Knightley will understand, I'm sure.
- (KNOCK AT DOOR)

Excuse me, sir, but Dr Perry has arrived.

- Oh... yes, er...
- Dr Perry?

Why should he call? I did not send for... Father!

One cannot be too careful, my dear.

I will go and have a quiet word with him.

Poor Father. We cannot tell him just now.

No. And with Mrs Weston's news so imminent,

two such changes in his settled order of things
would indeed be cruel.

But he must be told eventually.
It should be my concern to do so.

No. No, it must come from me,
I could not have it otherwise.

Very well, if you really wish it.

Give me time to prepare his mind gradually.

Give me time, Mr Knightley.

Certainly. But...

...on one condition.

- What is that?
- That you cease to call me Mr Knightley.

Oh, but that is how I always think of you.

I do have another name, you know.

Yes, but to call you by it would make you seem
other than you are, and that I should not like.

Oh, dear.

I do remember once, when I was quite a girl,

calling you George,
just to see if it would annoy you.

When I found it did not, I never did so again.

Can you not do so now, just to please me?

- George.
- Hm.

- George.
- Hm.

George.

No, I am sorry, Mr Knightley,
it is quite impossible. I cannot do it.

You will have to remain as you are.

(EMMA) Dear Harriet,

I am somewhat troubled that we have not
seen you at Hartfield just recently.

The fault, I know, is mine, but the truth is
that I have had much to occupy my thoughts.

Dear Harriet, I think we should meet before long

because there is something of particular
importance concerning us both and another

that I feel you should know.

Dear Miss Woodhouse,
thank you so much for your kind letter.

I too am concerned that we have not met
recently, but I'm to go to London - fancy! -

to stay with your sister and Mr John Knightley
to look after the boys.

I am so excited I can scarcely write.

0h, Miss Woodhouse, do tell me,
will my blue cambric do for mornings,

or should I get something finer?

Do please be quite honest with me
and tell me what you truly think.

Dear Harriet.

You sly thing, Jane.
Is she not a sly thing, eh, Miss Bates?

To have kept such a secret from us
all these months, hm?

I am sorry you should feel this way, Mrs Elton,
but I'm afraid it was unavoidable.

Oh, it was not her choice, Mrs Elton.
Truly it was not, was it, Jane dear?

You were not the only one
to be kept in ignorance.

When she told me, all I could say was, "Jane!"

That is exactly what I said,
is it not, Jane dear? "Jane!" I said.

Hm... No, I was merely joking, Miss Bates.

I hope I am not one to take offence
over such a matter.

Though a certain young lady

is most put out to learn
that Mr Churchill's affections are engaged.

- Oh, and who is that, Mrs Elton?
- Mm!

I mention no names, Jane my dear,

but I'm told that poor old Mr Woodhouse's life
is made quite miserable.

- (FOOTSTEPS)
- Oh, do I hear a visitor?

Perhaps it is my caro sposo.
I asked for him to call for me here.

- Miss Woodhouse.
- Miss Bates. I am sorry, I was not aware...

- Good morning.
- Do come in.

I had called to speak with Miss Fairfax.
I will come again another time.

Oh, but we have not seen you for so long!
I was only saying so to Jane this morning...

- Jane dear, look!
- I'm so pleased to see you.

Do sit down, Miss Woodhouse,
and have a little drink of something.

Do you not think that our saucy little friend
is looking prettier than ever?

It is wonderful the change
that Perry has brought about, is not it?

At least, we must suppose it to be Perry.

- Miss Fairfax certainly looks extremely well.
- Yes, does she not?

Well, this is quite a little party!
A few of Patty's biscuits...

- (DOOR CLOSES)
- Now that MUST be my lord and master.

He's been with Knightley on parish business
at the Crown. So tiresome.

But the meeting at the Crown is tomorrow,
I think, Mrs Elton.

I think you are mistaken, Miss Woodhouse.

His opinion is always being sought
upon this and that.

They seem not to be able
to do anything without Mr E.

- Mr Elton.
- Ah, Mr Elton, do come in!

- Ooh, you do look hot! Such a warm day...
- I am extremely hot, madam.

- I have been over to Donwell, to no purpose.
- Let me get you a glass of something.

To Donwell, my love?
The meeting was at the Crown.

- No, that is tomorrow.
- Are you sure?

- Yes, perfectly!
- Oh.

Did you say Mr Knightley asked you
to call at Donwell and then was not there?

But how very strange! Very unlike him.
He's so considerate always.

But then I have noticed that his manner
is a little strange lately,

a little forgetful and preoccupied.

- Would you not say so, Miss Woodhouse?
- Oh, I had not noticed, Miss Bates.

If you will forgive me, I really must be leaving.

- Please do not run away...
- I will come with you to the door.

Really, my love, I cannot imagine how Knightley
could behave like this to you, of all people.

He becomes more eccentric every day.

Miss Fairfax, I had hoped to have the opportunity

to say how very, very delighted I am for you
and to wish you every happiness.

Thank you. I too had hoped
for an opportunity to speak.

I'm afraid you must have felt my manner
towards you cold and artificial,

but I had always a part to act
which was very foreign to me.

You are much too scrupulous.

It is I who should apologise.

In fact, I blush to recall my behaviour
on several occasions.

But you need not,
really you need not on my account.

I was fully aware of the true situation, remember.

You are very generous and understanding.

Well... goodbye, Jane. I may call you that, I hope?

Please do.

Is it not sad that we should only truly
become friends now that you are leaving us?

I begged her to take the carriage.
James is very good.

He's quite agreeable to harnessing the horses
if one gives him plenty of notice.

- (DOOR OPENS)
- Ah, Emma, my child.

Father, I had thought
to find you gone for your walk.

- I'm afraid he was detained.
- Yes, well... well, I'll be off.

Don't run away, Mr Knightley. Stay and talk to her
if you have nothing more pressing to do.

Thank you, I will.

No news of poor Miss Taylor?

Mrs Weston, Papa? No, I heard none.

James has it from someone at the Crown that
the midwife was seen going that way last night.

Gossip has had the baby born
ten times this week already!

It is usually the same on these occasions.

Poor Miss Taylor. It is a sorry business.

Poor Weston too, come to that.

Poor Father. We must tell him.

Not to do so puts us on exactly a level
with Frank Churchill.

Yes, I quite agree.

But for the moment, Emma,
I have some other news for you,

news which you may not find agreeable.

Oh? But you apparently do.

- You are trying not to smile. What is it?
- You may not smile when you hear.

Why not? I am sure
what pleases you will please me.

Well, there is one subject, and I hope only one,
on which we do not think alike.

Emma, prepare yourself for the worst.
Harriet Smith is, after all, to marry Robert Martin.

- No.
- It is so, indeed.

I had it from the young man's own lips
this morning.

As he is a tenant of mine, he did me the honour
to come first to me with the news.

Oh... you like it, my Emma, as little as I feared.

I wish that our opinions could be the same.

Mr Knightley, you quite mistake me.

It is just that for a moment
my breath is completely taken away.

Oh, dear admirable Harriet!

She is quite incorrigible.

But tell me all the details, how, where and when.

- Do not spare me any of it, I beg you.
- She shall tell you herself.

She longs to see you, Emma,
but fears that she might now be unwelcome.

Harriet? Oh, never.

Never.

Oh, dear, dear Miss Woodhouse!

You who have known all along
the state of my silly heart better than I did!

Oh, I can assure you I did not, Harriet.
This notion of me is quite undeserved.

Oh, Miss Woodhouse, I'm so happy!

I truly believe Robert and I
were made for each other.

I've always felt it, as you know,
from the very first moment that we met.

There were moments, I know,
when I felt a certain passing interest in others,

but those were just the idle fancies
of a foolish girl.

I have forgot them already.

Oh, Miss Woodhouse, would you speak with him?

Well, of course I will, Harriet.
Why should I not, if he will speak to me?

(WHISPERS) Yes.

- You may come in now.
- You have not left him standing in the hall?

Miss Woodhouse,

this is Mr Martin.

I must apologise for this uncivil treatment,
Mr Martin. Do sit down.

Oh, I can stay but a moment, ma'am.
I have to see Mr Knightley about the farmhouse.

Miss Woodhouse, I must thank you for your
kindness to Harriet. She speaks of little else.

I deserve few thanks from you, Mr Martin.

But make her a good husband
and you will always be my friend.

- I'll do my best, ma'am.
- I am sure you will.

Forgive me, I hope you won't think me rude,
but I do not wish to keep Mr Knightley waiting.

That you are sensible
of your obligations to Mr Knightley

is the very best recommendation
you could have in my eyes, Mr Martin.

Harriet must bring you again,
when you have more time.

Thank you, ma'am.

Oh, Miss Woodhouse, is he not
the most splendid man you have ever seen?

He seems a very excellent young man, certainly.

So poor little Harriet Smith is to marry.
Oh, dear, oh, dear.

So young. So... so delicate.

Was there nothing you could say
to dissuade her?

No, Father, nothing.

One would have thought that the sad example
of poor Miss Taylor would have proved sufficient.

But why, Father? The confinement was
remarkably easy and the baby is thriving.

But that is not what I wish to discuss.

Father, there is something that I feel it would be
unfair to withhold from you any longer.

Harriet is not the only one
who is contemplating marriage.

What?

Well, who else? What do you mean, child?

You cannot mean
my dear old friend Miss Bates?

No, Father, not Miss Bates.

What is this, I wonder?
It's some kind of madness.

Father, Mr Knightley has done me the very great
honour of asking me to become his wife.

What?

- No. You cannot mean it.
- And I have accepted him.

No... No, no.

- No, it cannot be, it cannot be.
- No, Father, please do not distress yourself so.

I shall not be leaving you, you know that.
I could never leave you.

What do you mean, leaving? How so?

Well, we have talked it all over
at very great length

and the suggestion is that John Knightley
and Isabella should come down to Donwell

and that, with your approval,
Mr Knightley and I should remain here,

so you will be gaining
two daughters instead of one

and more of Mr Knightley's company
for good measure.

Oh, there, Father, can you not see what
a happy arrangement it would be for all of us?

I do not care for arrangements.
I am too old for such things.

- But, Father, I...
- No!

No, it cannot be.

Father.

There is something of even greater importance.

Oh, and what is that, my dear?

I hear that Mr Weston's poultry house
has been broken into again last night.

No! Is that a fact?

- And all the turkeys taken.
- Really?

This is the third occasion in the last few weeks.

Oh, dear, what times we do live in.
Nothing is sacred, nothing is safe.

But if Mr Knightley were here all the time,
well, he would always know what to do, Papa.

Yes... yes, that is very true.

Oh... very well, then, my dear.

You give us your consent, Father?

Well, yes, er... yes.

You will not regret it, I know. You always enjoy
Mr Knightley's company so, do you not?

Well, you know that I do.

Well, now you will have even more of it,
for we shall see him daily.

We already see him daily,
so what is the object of this marriage?

Oh, Emma.

Emma, why could we not just go on as we were?

- (MRS ELTON) Ah!
- So Knightley is to move into Hartfield.

Let us hope the young lady's pride
will be contented at last.

Rather him than me, that's all I can say.

It's always a shocking plan,
living together with one's parents.

A couple once tried it near Maple Grove
and they were separated within the year.

Oh, I hope it may prove a very happy
arrangement, very happy indeed!

Anyway, I'm sure I wish them well
with all my heart. Do not you, Jane dear?

(CHUCKLES) Of course, she is not here.

Oh, is she not a beautiful girl, eh?
Is she not a fine handsome girl?

Indeed she is, Mr Weston. She has beautiful
eyes. She has quite the look of her father.

Ooh, she's a fine girl.
She's a beautiful girl, is she not, eh?

- Eh? (CHUCKLES)
- Jane!

Jane, may I offer you
my heartiest good wishes for your future.

Thank you, and may I do the same to you,
although I am sure it is unnecessary.

Here is your Aunt Jane. Take note of her well.

I have to thank you, Miss Woodhouse,

for a forgiving message
in one of Mrs Weston's letters.

- I hope you do not retract what you then said.
- No, Mr Churchill, not in the least,

and I am very pleased
to have this opportunity of telling you.

You're much kinder than I deserve.

What an impudent dog I was,

but I could not break my vow
and tell you the true situation.

Though there was one moment
when I was sorely tempted to.

- Emma, my dear. Mr Churchill.
- Thank you.

But I comfort myself with the belief

that you were well aware
that it was all, in a way, a... a form of sport,

because you too indulge in it
a little yourself, I think.

I have a suspicion that in the midst of everything
you had a secret satisfaction in tricking us all.

How could you suspect me of such a thing?
I was the most miserable wretch.

Oh, no, Mr Churchill,
I think I speak with some authority,

- as I too would have enjoyed doing so myself.
- (LAUGHS)

I think there is a little likeness between us
in many respects, do not you?

So you really have forgiven me, I think.
Then I am content.

But I knew you would.

Forgive this interruption. It appears
we have acquired the wrong partners.

Well, friends,

dear, dear friends,

since we are gathered together,

it falls upon me to perform the melancholy duty
of wishing these couples long life and prosperity.

If you would be good enough
to raise your glasses...

Our Hartfield claret is a good wine, I think.

Not too acid, and will hurt nobody.

No! No, not you, Miss Taylor.
Not while you are...

Emma dear, a glass of milk
for poor Miss Taylor, if you please.

Father.

Synchro: Peterlin