EMMA (1972–…): SEASON 1, EPISODE 1 EPISODE #1.1 - FULL TRANSCRIPT
Emma Woodhouse has just attended the marriage of a dear friend and now
fears that her own life will become boring & dull.
Goodbye! Goodbye!
Ah! Well, I must be returning to Donwell,
I suppose.
No, please, Mr Knightley. Do not leave us just yet.
Father and I must spend our days alone, so we
shall be more than ever grateful for your company.
Emma, my dear, the door!
The door, if you'd be so good.
There's a dreadful draught.
Mr Knightley will be more than ever welcome,
now that we are to spend our days
alone together, without Miss Taylor.
- Mrs Weston, as I should now call her.
- Poor Miss Taylor, poor Miss Taylor.
What a pity it was that Mr Weston ever set eyes
on her! Yes, it is a sad business indeed.
Come! Weston's an excellent fellow.
He'd been a widower too long. He'll make her
the admirable husband that she deserves.
But you and Emma will lose housekeeper,
governess, companion and friend at one stroke.
Poor Mr and Miss Woodhouse, in my opinion.
Especially when one of them
is such a fanciful, troublesome creature?
Come, speak your mind honestly, sir!
That's very true, my dear. I'm afraid
I am very troublesome and fanciful these days.
Dearest Papa!
As though we could possibly mean you.
Mr Knightley was merely pursuing
his self-appointed task of putting me in my place
and keeping me well aware of my faults.
- I said nothing!
- No easy task to take upon yourself, I grant you.
But never mind.
We understand each other, do we not?
- Have a piece of wedding cake.
- No, thank you.
Emma, my dear child! Whatever are you doing?
There will be no Miss Taylor to look after you now,
if you become unwell.
Father! When have you known me have
one day's indisposition since I was a child?
I have a robust constitution,
have I not, Mr Knightley?
- I must say I think you have, Emma.
- Dear Emma bears everything so well.
But she will miss poor Miss Taylor.
It's impossible that she should not, but she knows
that this marriage is to Miss Taylor's advantage.
It really is a most satisfactory thing
for all concerned, I should consider.
Thank you, Mr Knightley!
I take that as a compliment, coming from you.
I flatter myself that
I was chiefly responsible for the match.
- Come, now, Emma! Really!
- Yes.
Ever since the day that Miss Taylor and I
first met Mr Weston in Broadway-lane,
and because it began to mizzle he darted into
Farmer Mitchell's and brought us two umbrellas.
From that very moment I planned the match.
You may smile, Mr Knightley, but it's the truth.
My dear, I wish you would not make matches, for
they are most troublesome and wretched affairs.
I promise to make none for myself, but I do not
promise to restrain myself on behalf of others.
It's the greatest amusement in the world!
- And after such a success!
- What do you mean by success?
Do you not call it a success, that such admirable
and well-suited people should come together?
Success supposes some kind of endeavour.
Have you been labouring these past four years
to bring this match about?
It's a fine occupation for a young lady!
Mr Knightley dearly loves to chide me,
do you not, sir?
- Indeed I do not.
- Yes, you do.
But I am no longer of an age to be made
to stand in the corner for talking too much.
Happily, for I should be there a great deal!
You thought one day how delightful it would be
were Mr Weston to marry Miss Taylor, and he did.
You merely made a lucky guess, that's all.
Have you never known the pleasure
of a lucky guess?
Certainly, but one is likely to do
far more harm than good by interference.
Dear Emma never thinks of herself
where there is good to be done to others.
But pray, my dear, no more matches, please!
They break up one's domestic circle
most grievously.
- Only one more, Papa!
- Restrain yourself, Emma!
A need for entertainment is no reason for turning
your attention in another poor fellow's direction.
Have no fear, Mr Knightley. I wouldn't presume
to perform my good offices upon your behalf.
I should hope not.
The person most in need of help
in that direction is Mr Elton.
- Elton?
- Elton? What about Mr Elton?
I thought as he was joining their hands together
today, "Poor young man!"
He would have liked someone
to be performing the same office for him.
Indeed!
He has been here nearly a year now, and I hear
he has fitted up the vicarage exceedingly well.
And a clergyman needs a wife
to support and sustain him.
There are so few young women in Highbury
who are in any way suitable, but never mind.
I shall keep my eyes open. You may depend on it.
- Harriet, my love, leave your bonnet alone!
- Yes, Mrs Goddard.
- You look very well, my child.
- Thank you, Mrs Goddard.
Mrs Goddard, how nice of you to call!
- Good morning.
- Good morning, Miss Woodhouse.
Miss Woodhouse, may I present Harriet Smith?
Harriet was one of my pupils.
Now she helps me with some of the younger girls.
- Do sit down, Miss Smith.
- Thank you.
Miss Woodhouse, the girls were delighted
with the cake and the bon-bons!
- Were they not, Harriet?
- Yes, Mrs Goddard.
It was so sweet of you to think of them.
Not at all. My father does not eat wedding cake.
He would be most alarmed
if he knew what I had done.
I hope none of the children suffered.
- Good gracious, no! Did they, Harriet?
- No, indeed, ma'am.
Good, I'm so glad.
He would never have forgiven me.
And have you seen the happy couple
since they returned, Miss Woodhouse?
I hope to shortly.
I understand that Miss Taylor...
Mrs Weston, I should say,
had a most agreeable letter
from Mr Weston's son, Mr Frank Churchill.
- So I hear.
- A handsome letter, Miss Bates said.
Ah, Miss Bates.
So, perhaps we shall see him in Highbury at last.
Yes. Providing his guardian, Mrs Churchill,
is well enough to permit him to leave Yorkshire.
- Have you had the pleasure of meeting him?
- No, never.
- He's something of a legend, is he not, Harriet?
- Yes, Mrs Goddard.
But Miss Bates is of the opinion
that he is sure to come now that
his father has a regular establishment here.
It would hardly be polite
to the second Mrs Weston if he did not.
Well, that is Miss Bates' opinion, anyhow.
I only hope the poor young man is sensible of it,
that is all.
But this gives me an opportunity
to issue you with an invitation.
My father and I are giving a party next
Wednesday for Mr and Mrs Weston, informal.
So please forgive my not writing to you.
- Do say you can come.
- Miss Woodhouse! How delightful! Yes, indeed!
And Miss Smith.
Or may I be allowed to call you Harriet?
Miss Woodhouse! You don't really mean it?
Perhaps Harriet could help me
with some of the preparations.
There are always 101 tiresome little tasks
on the day one gives a party.
Harriet! Oh, you'll find her most excellent
to run errands, Miss Woodhouse!
If you make yourself quite clear, she will do her
utmost, I'm quite sure. Won't you, my dear child?
Oh, Harriet! You lucky, lucky girl!
What do you say?
Thank you, Miss Woodhouse! Thank you!
- Mr and Mrs Cox.
- Yes.
Miss Bates.
- Oh. Miss Bates.
- Emma, you can't leave her out.
Yes, but she is such a great talker
upon little matters.
Very well, then. Miss Bates.
There! That makes 26 in all
if Mr Frank Churchill comes.
Yes, but I think you'll find he will not.
- Why do you say that?
- It's merely my opinion.
Emma,
I'm worried that you should require the ladies
to leave their bonnets in the night nursery.
We cannot have them all catching cold
down that long passage.
Very well, Papa.
Well, that makes 25 in all.
Can you think of anyone I may have forgotten?
- Elton?
- No, I have him down already.
- The Coles?
- Oh.
- You sound unenthusiastic.
- I do not think I need to ask them.
What is wrong with Mr and Mrs Cole?
There is nothing wrong with them. It is just
that I do not wish to include them in my party.
- There, the list is closed.
- Very well. So be it.
Don't forget to ask Cook
to prepare a bowl of gruel.
There are sure to be some
who cannot digest rich food at night.
Very well, Papa. I won't forget.
Should you need any help on the day,
my housekeeper would be willing to oblige.
No, thank you, Mr Knightley.
Now, how did I only make it 25?
But you surely cannot do
without any assistance whatever?
Thank you, but I have Harriet coming for the day.
- I forgot to cross off Mr Frank Churchill.
- Who, pray, is Harriet?
Harriet Smith is an old pupil of Mrs Goddard's
and an excellent and deserving young woman.
I see it all! Harriet Smith, whoever she may be,
must be the next to receive your attentions.
Emma! Emma, you're incorrigible!
Mr Knightley, if it pleases you to make sport of
me, pray feel free to do so as much as you wish.
I can guarantee it will make
not the slightest difference to my conduct.
- I'm quite sure of that.
- Ah, Williams. We will have dinner at five.
- And Mr Knightley will be staying.
- Indeed.
Mr Knightley!
Oh, Miss Bates! I'm so sorry
your mother did not feel able to come.
She's so disappointed.
I cannot tell you how grieved she is.
I have never seen her so grieved
upon any matter before!
(CLAPPING)
She said, "Tell Miss Woodhouse how sorry I am."
I was only saying to Mrs Goddard...
- Excuse me.
- Emma! Dearest, dearest Emma!
Mrs Weston! There, I have remembered
to call you by your right name at last.
Oh, but you're looking very well indeed.
- Ain't I looking well too, Miss Emma?
- Indeed you are, Mr Weston, but you always do.
I hoped to have my son with me.
But Mrs Churchill was unwell once again.
He was obliged to put off his visit.
She must be a somewhat exacting aunt.
She insisted he change his name to hers.
Nonsense! She's been extremely generous to
the boy. I bear her no ill will at all on that score.
You do not because you are too good-hearted.
Nevertheless, I think it shows a want of feeling.
Never mind. We must postpone the pleasure
of meeting your son until another occasion.
It is enough that you should bring your dear wife
back to us, for we've missed her sorely.
My father is quite heartbroken.
But you must come and meet him.
He will not be parted from you
a moment longer than is necessary.
- Fine girl, eh, Knightley?
- Yes, indeed.
- The wife dotes on her.
- Yes.
Well, Weston, no need to ask
how matrimony's suiting you.
You should try it.
Splendid physic, I can assure you.
So my brother says. One in the family is enough.
That's what you say, but you wait.
Just you wait.
Ah, Miss Bates. Let me propose
your venturing on a lightly coddled egg.
That's very kind of you, Mr Woodhouse, really
extremely kind. But if I might be permitted...
A very soft egg is not unwholesome.
You'll take no harm from that.
- Papa?
- Oh, excuse me. Miss Taylor!
What a delight it is to see you safely back!
It's the greatest happiness to me
to be back here.
You were both so kind to me.
I think of this as my true home.
- But you look pale. Don't you think she is pale?
- No, Papa. To be truthful, I do not.
The journey, perhaps. A chair!
A chair, Emma, for poor Miss Taylor.
Mrs Weston, Papa. Do please try to remember.
But your hands are cold.
Come over here by the fire.
- Emma dear, a little wine for poor Miss Taylor.
- Mrs Weston, Papa!
I'll tell the servants to put a drop of wine
in a tumbler and fill it up with boiling water.
- That can do you no hurt, I promise you.
- Kind, kind Mr Woodhouse.
Dearest Papa! He will be so happy
now he has you to make a fuss of once more.
- Richard will bring you your wine.
- Thank you, Mr Woodhouse.
Oh, Miss Taylor!
The anxiety has been almost too much for you.
- I think this is what you require, is it not?
- Thank you, Miss Woodhouse.
But you must not stay over here by yourself.
You must come and meet people.
Please do not concern yourself. I am quite happy.
Mr Elton! The very person I was looking for!
Miss Woodhouse. May I be permitted
to compliment you on such a splendid gathering?
Thank you.
In return, may I introduce you to someone
whom I would particularly like you to meet?
- Such gatherings are the rule at Hartfield.
- Thank you, Mr Elton.
Harriet, Mr Elton is already well known to you
in the pulpit, I dare say.
But I expect you are not quite yet
so well known to him.
May I present Miss Harriet Smith?
- Your servant, ma'am.
- How do you do, sir?
Mr Elton, Miss Smith has nothing to eat.
- Please escort her to the buffet.
- Yes, certainly.
There, Harriet. I leave you in his charge.
- May I fetch you a plate, Mr Elton?
- Oh. Er, thank you.
- And a fork?
- Thank you. Thank you, indeed.
- Miss Woodhouse, what a delightful party!
- Thank you, Miss Bates.
There's something quite unique
about a Hartfield party.
- You're too kind.
- Quite unique! That's the only way to describe it.
But is it not a shame about Mr Frank Churchill?
- Yes, is it not?
- Poor Mr Weston! I do so feel for him!
- Please excuse me.
- Oh, yes, certainly!
Emma!
I know of your new little protégé, Miss Smith.
She was a pupil of Mrs Goddard's
for 10 or 12 years, was she not?
- She was.
- I thought as much.
If you are about to tell me she is somebody's
natural daughter and her parentage is unknown,
I am already well aware of it, thank you.
Though she is obviously the child of a gentleman.
Emma, you fly off on your hobby-horse as usual.
I was about to say no such thing.
Until this moment I did not know it myself.
Oh.
However, it doesn't concern me.
She's a... very pleasant-looking girl.
- That's quite enough for me.
- Thank you, Mr Knightley.
No, I was about to say that I know her by sight
because she often stays with some tenants
of mine, the Martin family at Abbey-Hill Farm.
Miss Smith stays with farming folk?
Really, Mr Knightley! I feel you must be mistaken.
Mrs Goddard would never permit it.
Why not? The Martin girls are admirable
young women. I have a high opinion of the family.
That just goes to prove my point, does it not?
Harriet is a fine girl with a sweet disposition.
All she needs is a little polish
and a few additional social graces,
which I fear she will not learn on a farm.
- Emma!
- You are quite prepared to put me in the wrong.
- You quite mistake me.
- I refuse to be lectured this evening.
One morning you may go through the catalogue
of my faults over a glass of sherry and a biscuit,
if indeed you could spare so much time
as it would doubtless require.
- Excuse me.
- Emma, my dear good child!
That poor Miss Smith and that great plateful
of chicken! Don't eat it, my dear! Put it back!
Let me get you a little jelly with some trifle.
It is quite all right, Harriet.
You just carry on as you were.
All that mayonnaise sauce.
The poor child will suffer from it most dreadfully.
- No, Papa, she will not, I assure you.
- It is no good grinning at me like this...
Miss Woodhouse! Is not Mr Weston
the kindest man alive, would you not say?
Excuse me. Mr Elton, you have abandoned
poor Miss Smith. I'm surprised at you.
Oh, no, Miss Woodhouse.
Mrs Weston.
I do not know what your opinion may be
of this new intimacy of Emma's, Harriet Smith.
- I think it's a bad thing.
- But why?
- Neither of them will do the other any good.
- You surprise me.
Emma cannot but do Harriet good,
and by providing her with a new interest,
Harriet may well do the same for Emma.
Let this not be the beginning of one
of our disagreements on the subject of Emma.
Certainly not.
But I think perhaps you do not realise the comfort
a woman feels in a companion of her own sex.
I can understand your objections to Harriet Smith.
She is not quite the superior young woman
one would expect for Emma.
- Hardly.
- But Emma will want to see her better informed.
That will be an inducement
to a course of reading and study.
Emma has been meaning to read and study more
ever since she was 12.
She will never submit
to anything that requires industry.
- You are always so hard on her, poor girl.
- Only because everybody else is too indulgent.
She is spoilt by being the cleverest in her family.
Perhaps.
- My brother is married to her sister.
- But Isabella...
Yes, but all their childhood
Emma was able to outshine poor Isabella
despite the difference in their years.
Ever since their mother died, Emma has been
the true mistress of this house and of you all.
There. Now, is that not the honest truth?
Oh, dear! Perhaps there is some truth in it, yes.
But with all Emma's little faults,
she has an excellent character, Mr Knightley.
That's why I feel so much concern on her behalf.
You see, this youthful assurance of hers
leaves her dangerously susceptible to flattery
and Harriet Smith, I suspect,
is by nature a flatterer.
Well, unintentional. So much the worse for that.
She clearly knows nothing
and looks up to Emma as knowing everything.
As for Harriet,
Hartfield and its mistress will put her out of
conceit with all the places to which she belongs.
She will grow just refined enough
to be uncomfortable in the company of her
friends and acquaintances. You mark my words.
Two very good parlours they have,
Miss Woodhouse.
And an upper maid who's lived with them 25
years, so Mrs Martin said. Oh, and eight cows.
- Indeed?
- Two Alderneys and one pretty little Welsh cow.
So pretty, Miss Woodhouse, she was, really.
I doted on her.
The Miss Martins used to say she should be
called my cow. Was that not kind of them?
Very kind. And is there no Mr Martin?
You've made no mention of him.
Have I not? Oh, yes, there is
and he is very kind too
and extremely highly thought of, I believe.
Miss Woodhouse! How beautiful that is!
This is just an old chair seat
I began once and then set aside.
I had meant to work a whole set
for the dining room.
It is quite exquisite!
- You like it?
- I do! But then you're so clever.
Nonsense.
This Mr Martin, what manner of man is he?
Is he a man of information?
- Information, Miss Woodhouse?
- Does he read?
Yes, certainly. There is always
an agricultural report on the window seat, always.
I mean, does he read for pleasure
and improvement?
Oh, yes. Often in the evenings he would read us
aloud some pieces from "Elegant Extracts".
Oh.
And I know he has read "The Vicar Of Wakefield",
Miss Woodhouse. He told me so himself.
He hadn't heard of such stories as "The Romance
Of The Forest" or "The Children Of The Abbey",
but he's determined to get them.
I see you have made a start, anyway.
But now, Harriet, today is my day for visiting
the poor. Would you like to join me?
Oh, Miss Woodhouse, may I?
Indeed you may. I do dislike walking by myself.
Thank you, Miss Woodhouse.
What style of man is this Mr Martin?
His appearance, I mean.
He is not handsome, Miss Woodhouse, not at all.
At least I did not think so at first.
- I see. Oh, may I?
- Oh, please do.
What age would you take him to be?
- He was four and twenty on the 8th of June.
- Only four and twenty?
Yes, his birthday's just a fortnight and a day
before mine. Is that not strange?
But the Miss Martins, what age are they?
The elder one is a year younger than her brother
and the youngest...
Then this Mr Martin is their brother
and not their father?
Oh, yes, Miss Woodhouse. Their father
has been dead some years. Is it not sad?
Yes, very sad.
But I've heard he was a very fine man,
Miss Woodhouse. Everyone speaks well of him.
- I have no doubt.
- Robert greatly resembles him, so I'm told.
Mr Martin, I should say.
Emma! Emma, my dear child.
You're not going out walking,
I hope, at this time of year?
Yes, Father, I am, and Harriet
has kindly consented to come with me.
But, my dear, is that wise?
Oh, dear, oh, dear!
Now, please, Mrs Penny! You will take cold.
Now, look after yourself
and I will be back again next week.
Thank you, Miss Woodhouse.
- Was it not strange? That is Mr Martin!
- So I realise.
It was quite by chance he came this way.
He has this very day come into town
for a copy of "The Romance Of The Forest".
Miss Woodhouse, is he like what you expected?
Well, Harriet, he is plain, certainly.
Exceedingly plain.
Oh, do you think so?
I must confess I had expected to see something
more of the gentleman in his appearance.
Yes. I suppose he has not the air of Mr Knightley.
- Mr Knightley?
- He is not so much a gentleman as Mr Knightley.
Poor Mr Martin! Let us not compare him
with Mr Knightley. That is a little hard.
But with Mr Weston, say, or Mr Elton.
Has he their manner of speaking,
would you say, or bearing?
But Mr Weston is nearly an old man, surely.
I mean, he must be over 40.
Well, Mr Elton, then.
Try comparing him in your mind's eye with
Mr Elton, and you will see at once what I mean.
Yes. Yes, I suppose I do.
But, Miss Woodhouse, Mr Elton is a clergyman.
- Miss Woodhouse, sir?
- I understand that she wished to see me.
Oh. Very well, then, sir.
If you would just wait a moment.
Ye have heard them sweetly sing,
and seen them in a round:
each...
Yes?
Each virgin like a spring,
with honeysuckles...
(KNOCKING)
Miss Woodhouse, Mr Elton is here.
Mr Elton? Oh, well, show him in, Williams!
- Excuse me one moment, Harriet!
- Very well, Miss Woodhouse.
- Mr Elton, what a pleasant surprise!
- But I thought...
- Come in, come in!
- But you have company. I won't disturb you.
Oh, Harriet and I were just passing the time.
We should be glad of a little company.
Well, if you're quite sure...
I find Harriet a quite invaluable companion.
And so accomplished!
This table mat, for example.
Is it not rather fine?
Very fine. Exceedingly fine, in fact.
She has a natural taste in such matters.
Do you not agree?
She has indeed. Undoubtedly she has.
In fact she has improved greatly
under your care, in my opinion.
- You really think so?
- I do indeed.
You have made her graceful and easy.
She always had beauty. Now she has...
She never wanted for sweetness of temper
and artlessness,
but I have given her
a little decision of character as well.
Exactly so! That is what immediately strikes one.
You have a great understanding of such matters.
Thank you, Mr Elton.
There! Is that not a charming picture?
- Charming, charming.
- She has no notion we are observing her.
Quite, quite charming.
What would I not give for a portrait of her
as she sits there at this moment!
- Mm, Mr Elton?
- Yes. What a subject she'd make for your pencil!
- For mine?
- Yes, yours. Oh, you're too modest.
Mrs Weston has shown me
the likeness you made of her
and may I be permitted to say
I think it quite admirable?
- You are too kind.
- Not at all.
I did have quite a passion for taking likenesses,
but for one reason or another I gave it up.
Then let me entreat you to try
your charming talent once more on Miss Smith.
- Oh, Mr Elton!
- I do beg of you.
Shall I, then? Shall I? I confess
that was truly not on my mind when I spoke.
Please, please! It would be a sheer delight.
Very well, then, Mr Elton!
If the result is disaster, the fault shall be yours.
- Harriet? Come here one moment.
- Yes, Miss Woodhouse?
Have you ever had your likeness drawn?
Oh, goodness! No, never, Miss Woodhouse.
Very well. Come and sit here,
exactly as you were,
and do keep your position
while I fetch my sketching board.
Mr Elton, do not let her move!
She is in your command.
You have my permission to use force if need be!
You are fortunate to have
such a talented friend as Miss Woodhouse.
Oh, yes, sir.
And you are very proficient with your needle.
Oh? Yes, sir.
- What is that you're reading?
- It is a book, sir.
- A book of poems.
- Poems?
They are not mine, sir.
Leastways, I mean the book is not mine.
It belongs to Miss Woodhouse.
There! Well, it is so long
since I last drew a likeness
that I do hope my hand
has not lost what little skill it had.
Now, Harriet, your cap.
- My hair, Miss Woodhouse!
- Your hair is quite delightful.
Now, if I place myself here...
- Allow me.
- Thank you.
Now, Harriet, your head a little higher, please.
A little more to your right.
There, that is exactly right.
Now, quite still, please.
An exquisite choice of position. Quite admirable.
Oh, am I standing in your light?
I do beg your pardon.
One moment. The folds of the skirt.
- My skirt, Miss Woodhouse? How was it?
- No, no, do not move!
- Mr Elton, if you would be so kind.
- Yes, Miss Woodhouse.
The folds of the skirt.
Could you rearrange them somewhat?
Er, yes. Yes, of course.
Permit me.
- Harriet, please!
- I'm sorry, Miss Woodhouse.
Well, I declare, Mr Elton!
You make such a gallant figure there at her feet
that I've half a mind to include you in my picture.
- No, really, Miss Woodhouse, no!
- It is all right, Mr Elton. I was not serious.
Perhaps you would be good enough
to entertain us with a reading while we work.
Oh! Delighted, of course! Delighted!
- If you'd really care for it, Miss Woodhouse.
- We should welcome it, should we not, Harriet?
It would be quite delightful, Miss Woodhouse.
Harriet has a book of verses there.
Yes, of course.
Choose what you will.
Do sit down, Mr Elton.
Thank you.
A sweet disorder of the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness.
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
into a fine distraction.
An erring lace, which here and there...
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run
And nearer he's to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer...
- Miss Woodhouse!
- It is like, yet not like. It will have to do.
...the worse and worst
Times still succeed the former.
- The time! Harriet, my poor girl!
- May I be permitted to see, Miss Woodhouse?
You may, Mr Elton, but I fear I have not done
the subject justice. I am most dissatisfied.
Oh, but in my opinion you have.
Oh, yes, indeed, you have!
Thank you. You must run home to Mrs Goddard.
She will wonder what has happened to you.
Yes. I cannot for the moment, Miss Woodhouse.
My foot has quite gone to sleep!
Mr Elton will take you as soon as you are ready.
A charming, quite delightful thing.
Mr Elton? You will escort Miss Smith home?
Yes, of course, Miss Woodhouse. Yes.
You know, you've caught
the expression of the eye most admirably.
May I be permitted to congratulate you?
Thank you, Mr Elton, for being so kind
and reading so beautifully.
You have such a fine, clear delivery.
Thank you. Goodbye.
Mrs Goddard, I do beg your pardon
but truly the fault was not mine.
I am sorry you did not come sooner, my dear.
I've had a visitor. Mr Martin.
Mr Martin? Came here?
He did, not half an hour since.
But for what reason, Mrs Goddard?
To see you, of course.
To see me? Oh, goodness gracious!
However, he left this for you.
Thank you, Mrs Goddard.
Well, child, are you not going to open it?
I think first I will go upstairs
and take off my bonnet, Mrs Goddard.
If you don't mind.
- You've caught her beauty, Emma dear.
- You've made her too tall, Emma.
Ah, I knew I should never please Mr Knightley.
I never said it didn't please me.
The appearance of height is not correct.
I disagree with you. It gives exactly the true
impression of Miss Smith's height. Exactly so!
Oh, it's very pretty. Very prettily done indeed!
The only criticism I have to make
is that she appears to be sitting out of doors.
Well, that was my intention, Papa!
That is the object of the tree in the background.
Excellently sketched in, too. I greatly like the tree.
It is supposed to be a warm day in summer.
Yes, but even so, my dear! Only a shawl!
In my opinion, it is never wise
to sit outside so lightly clad.
- It's prettily drawn but your drawings always are.
- Thank you, Papa.
I think it a most happy notion myself
to have placed Miss Smith outside like that.
It suits the simplicity of her character,
does it not?
- Yes, perhaps.
- It is no use appealing to Mr Knightley, Mr Elton.
He is only too worried that any praise,
however slight or ill-merited, might turn my head.
- Come, Emma! That's unfair.
- Well, I think it altogether admirable.
- I cannot take my eyes off it.
- The subject's a very charming one, I grant you.
Mr Knightley, what is this?
You have given praise?
Though only to the sitter. That I fully appreciate.
I wonder how you would exist
without somebody like me to tease.
Well, I should like to see it framed
and hanging somewhere
where I could look upon it from my fireside chair.
That would give me the greatest pleasure.
Let it be delivered to somebody in London,
for there's no one in Highbury fit for such work.
Quite so! Somebody who understands the art.
Well, if I might be entrusted
with such a delicate commission,
it would give me the greatest pleasure.
A capital suggestion!
You would go especially to London?
But that would take up the whole of your day!
- I should think it an honour.
- No, I cannot endure the thought.
- Yes, yes, my dear. Mr Elton will do it.
- I have no engagement tomorrow.
Well, I am quite overwhelmed.
At what time would you wish to start?
I will pack it most carefully and bring it round.
No, we can't have you walking out
in the mornings at this time of year!
- No. Elton will call for it, won't you?
- Of course! It will give me the greatest pleasure!
Thank you, dear boy!
(DOOR CLOSES)
- Harriet!
- Forgive me for calling on you so early.
This letter was waiting for me
when I got home yesterday, from Mr Martin.
From Mr Martin? Then I have no doubt
of its being a private matter.
It is a proposal of marriage.
Upon my word! The young man is determined
to connect himself well, if he can.
Oh, read it, Miss Woodhouse! Please!
I did not like to disturb you last night,
when I knew you had company.
Miss Woodhouse!
I've been in such a state of mind!
Whoever would have thought
that Mr Martin could entertain such feelings?
And for me!
Hmm! It's quite a good letter.
Not at all badly phrased.
- So what should I do, Miss Woodhouse?
- Do? You must answer it, of course. At once.
Yes, but what shall I say?
Miss Woodhouse, do please advise me!
No, no, Harriet. That you must do for yourself.
You will express yourself very properly, I am sure.
Yes, Miss Woodhouse.
Oh, but you are much more knowledgeable
in these matters.
You must help me!
Very well.
First you must tell him that you are
deeply sensible of the honour he has done you
and that you have no desire in the world
to cause him pain.
You need not be prompted to write
with the appearance of too much sorrow
for his disappointment.
Then...
you mean I should refuse him?
Harriet dear, I had no notion you wished me
to advise you as to the purpose of your answer.
I thought you wanted help with the wording.
I am sorry. I have quite misunderstood you.
Am I to take it that you mean
to return a favourable answer?
No, Miss Woodhouse!
At least not if you do not think so!
Harriet, my dear girl, you really must make up
your own mind on such an important matter!
Yes. I suppose I must.
If you are quite convinced
that Mr Martin is the handsomest, finest,
most elegant man you have ever met,
then you need be in no doubt whatsoever.
On the other hand, if there is someone else
with whom he compares unfavourably,
in, say, education and understanding,
then I think you should hesitate.
In fact, Harriet dear, as a general rule,
if a woman has even a shadow of doubt
in her mind
as to whether or not she should say yes,
she should most assuredly say no.
Perhaps you are right, Miss Woodhouse.
But do not think that I wish to influence you
in any way. The decision must be yours.
Well, if you will not give me your opinion,
I suppose I must make up my own mind.
Yes, Harriet, I'm very much afraid you must.
Well?
I have almost determined to refuse him.
Yes. I shall say no!
Oh, Harriet!
- Do you think I'm right?
- Of course you are right!
I'm so glad you've decided the way you have!
Now there will be no need for us
to give up our friendship.
Give up our friendship? Miss Woodhouse,
I wouldn't give up that for anything in the world!
Not give it up entirely. But there would have
been difficulties, Harriet, would there not?
- Difficulties?
- Now there need be none!
Harriet, I'm so happy!
Now there only remains to write the letter.
No. No, you shall do it.
It shall be your thoughts
expressed in your own words.
Yes, Miss Woodhouse.
Whatever shall I say?
Just say, "Dear Mr Martin, though I am deeply
sensible of the great honour you have done me,
"I very much regret to say that
my answer must be..." et cetera, et cetera.
"Dear Mr Martin..."
EMMA (1972–…): SEASON 1, EPISODE 2 EPISODE #1.2 - FULL TRANSCRIPT
Emma has befriended Harriet Smith, a young teacher. Although an inveterate
matchmaker, she has encouraged Harriet to reject Robert Martin.
(BELL RINGS)
- There you are, Father.
- Thank you, my dear, thank you.
I shall not go far.
- Good morning, Emma. Sir.
- Good morning, Mr Knightley.
Perhaps you could tell me
what the weather is like.
Should I be unwise to venture
to the end of the drive?
It's confoundedly mild. I can hardly believe
that we shall soon have Christmas upon us.
But there's time enough for a change,
I'm afraid. We could have snow yet.
Snow? Oh, Papa!
You mark my word, my dear.
It's a treacherous season.
If the roads are too bad,
let us hope that Isabella will have the wisdom
not to attempt to drive from London!
But, Papa, it is only 16 miles.
Everybody will have visitors this Christmas. You'll
have my brother. Miss Bates will have her niece.
Mr Weston will have his son Frank,
if he condescends to come. I shall have nobody.
- Never mind. You will always be welcome here.
- Thank you, Emma.
Perhaps if you are not already
too fatigued by your walk,
you would care to accompany me.
Nothing would give me greater pleasure,
but, if you will excuse me,
I have something I wish to tell Emma.
Oh, very well.
In that case I'd better take my three turns
upon the terrace by myself.
Forgive my rudeness in leaving you.
We invalids like to think ourselves
privileged people, you know.
- Well, Emma!
- Well, Mr Knightley, and what is your news?
I believe that your little friend Harriet Smith
will soon hear something
very much to her advantage.
Harriet? What makes you say that?
I can't rate her beauty as highly as you do,
but in good hands she should turn out
an admirable young woman.
I'm glad you think so. And those hands
will not be wanting, I'm quite sure.
I admit that you have improved her. You've cured
her schoolgirl's giggle already. It does you credit.
Mr Knightley! I am overwhelmed. But let me hear
this news that will be so greatly to her advantage.
I have reason to believe that
she will very soon receive an offer of marriage.
Oh?
Robert Martin is the man. Her visit to the farm
this summer the cause. He's in love.
Means to marry her. Is that not a splendid thing?
He is very obliging. But is he so sure
that Harriet means to marry him?
He intends to make her an offer. He came
to see me to ask me what I thought of the notion.
I thought her an admirable young woman
within her own limitations
and advised him to press the match,
which I expect he will do.
How do you know he has not done so?
What?
I will tell you something, Mr Knightley,
in return for what you have so kindly told me.
Mr Robert Martin did speak yesterday.
That is to say, he wrote and was refused.
- Refused? I can't believe it!
- Nevertheless it's quite true, I'm afraid.
That girl must be a greater simpleton
than I thought her.
I realise it is impossible
for a man to believe a woman could refuse an
offer of marriage from whatever quarter it comes!
- Oh, nonsense. A man believes no such thing!
- Oh, yes, Mr Knightley.
Harriet Smith refuse Robert Martin?
But why? I can't believe it.
- You're mistaken. You must be.
- Nevertheless I have seen the letter.
- You mean you saw her answer, did you?
- I did.
- And wrote it too, I'll be bound.
- No. Well, not all of it.
- Emma, this is all your doing.
- And what if it is?
Mr Robert Martin may be an excellent young man
in many ways, but he is not Harriet's equal.
He's as much her superior in sense
as he is in station!
You've allowed your ridiculous infatuation
for this girl to blind you.
That is your opinion. It is not mine.
What is Harriet Smith? A parlour-boarder at
a girls' school. She has no family, no connection.
That is not her fault! It is her misfortune.
Let me continue. She is pretty and she has
an amiable nature, but she's not a sensible girl.
She has little or no information.
When Robert Martin came to tell me,
I thought, "Even Emma, with all her partiality
for Harriet, must see that this is a good match."
Really,
I cannot help wondering at your still knowing
so little of me as to say such a thing.
If Elton is the man that you have in mind for her,
I very much fear that it will be a labour in vain.
He's not the kind of man
to make an imprudent match of this kind.
You think it would be imprudent
for a man of Mr Elton's station
to marry a girl in Harriet Smith's position?
- Is that right?
- I do.
Then let me say at once, Mr Knightley,
that I consider an engagement
to Mr Robert Martin would not be a match.
It would be a degradation.
- In that case, I will bid you good morning.
- Good morning.
Yet I fear it's not as pleasant as it looks.
There's a harsh and treacherous wind
that catches one as one crosses the terrace.
I shall certainly not go again this...
How very strange!
Did you never collect riddles and conundrums,
Miss Woodhouse? I can scarcely believe it!
I did at one time, certainly, but I think
I abandoned the habit when I left the school.
- I have over a hundred now!
- Indeed, have you?
Of course, you will learn, Harriet,
that the exchanging of riddles and verses
is a very fair way for a shy young man
to express his feelings
without the embarrassment
of an open declaration.
Here is one by Mrs Goddard,
but I can never make out the meaning.
(KNOCKING)
- Mr Elton.
- Mr Elton! What a pleasure!
Miss Woodhouse. Miss Smith. I have the honour
to complete my commission on your behalf.
- Harriet's portrait!
- Miss Woodhouse! Does not the frame set it off?
Yes, it does. It does indeed.
- Thank you, Mr Elton! We are all in your debt.
- Not at all, Miss Woodhouse.
But do let me set it down somewhere,
so that we may all stand back and admire it!
In my opinion
it would be an adornment to any room.
Whether that is meant
as a compliment to the artist or to the sitter,
I think we need not enquire, Mr Elton.
Do join us for one moment.
I won't detain you ladies now. You must be busy.
Besides, I have some parish visits to make.
You promised to write something
in Harriet's book!
- I, Miss Woodhouse?
- Yes, you did, Mr Elton!
No, Miss Smith. I said
that I was no maker of elegant verses.
Oh, Harriet! I took Mr Elton
to be a man of his word. Did not you?
Oh, but he is, Miss Woodhouse.
I'm quite sure he is really.
It is just that he has forgot his promise.
No, I did not forget.
As a matter of fact, I have here a little verse,
written by a friend, that might amuse you.
- A friend of yours, Mr Elton?
- Yes.
- May I see?
- Yes, of course.
It is not mine to offer to Miss Smith's collection,
but it might just entertain you for a moment.
Please take it if you wish.
Good afternoon to you ladies.
Thank you, Mr Elton.
(WHISPERS) Not at all.
Miss Woodhouse, I... I cannot make it out!
- Here, you take this.
- No, it is yours.
Oh, please, Miss Woodhouse! You must help me!
Very well, then.
A charade, to Miss... Blank.
Well, we know who that is!
My first displays the wealth and pomp of kings,
Lords of the earth! Their luxury and ease.
Another view of man, my second brings,
Behold him there! The monarch of the seas!
- Miss Woodhouse!
- There is another verse.
But, ah, united, what reverse we have!
Man's boasted power and freedom, all are flown;
Lord of the earth and sea, he bends a slave,
And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone.
- What does it mean?
- That is not the end.
- Please tell me! What does it mean?
- Harriet, please!
Thy ready wit the word will soon supply,
May its approval beam in that soft eye!
- Oh, Miss Woodhouse! What is it?
- Well, think, Harriet!
Yes, Miss Woodhouse.
Thy ready wit the word will soon supply!
Is it... mermaid, Miss Woodhouse?
No, Harriet, it is not mermaid.
Then... it is shark?
- It cannot be shark. That is only one syllable.
- Yes, Harriet.
Woman! Is it woman, do you think?
- Miss Woodhouse, is it good? Is it well wrote?
- Written, Harriet.
Mr Elton's friend must be a very clever man,
must he not?
Yes, very clever.
My first displays the wealth and pomp of kings,
Lords of the earth! their luxury and ease.
That should be "court".
Yes, of course! That must be it.
Court! Go on, Miss Woodhouse.
Another view of man, my second brings,
Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!
That's "ship"! Plain as plain!
Ship, Miss Woodhouse?
Yes, I see! That's right. Ship!
So you see the word now, do you not?
Let me think.
Come, come, Harriet! Court and ship.
Courtship.
Courtship? Is that the word?
Yes, Harriet, that is the word.
(WHISPERS) Courtship.
Oh, Miss Woodhouse!
Oh, goodness!
May its approval beam in that soft eye!
This is so particular and pointed a compliment
that nobody could be in the slightest doubt
as to its meaning.
Harriet, you are a very, very fortunate girl.
But he said it was written by his friend,
did he not?
That was just a polite deception
which even you cannot take seriously.
Goodness! Goodness me!
This is an attachment
that will give you everything.
Consideration, independence
and a proper home.
It will confirm our friendship,
yours and mine, forever, will it not?
Yes, Miss Woodhouse. That would bring me
as much happiness as anything. Truly it would!
Dear sweet Harriet.
Fancy, that... that Mr Elton
should be in love with me, of all people,
who did not even know him to speak to
at Michaelmas!
You see how your fortunes have changed!
I well remember the very first time I saw him!
The Miss Martins and I ran into the front room
and peeped through the blind as he was going by!
Mrs Goddard came in and scolded us
and stayed to look herself.
Oh, how beautiful he looked, I remember!
Arm in arm with Mr Cole from the livery stable!
Yes, he is quite a handsome man, certainly.
There is no question of it.
I must copy it in at once and then I shall never let
my riddle book out of my hands again!
Never!
Really, Harriet, you must not put too much
significance upon a mere charade.
But you just said yourself...
Yes, I know, and in my opinion
it can have only one meaning,
but you must not betray your feelings
quite so openly.
Must I not, Miss Woodhouse?
But come! Let us go poor-visiting!
I think we would do well to get a little fresh air!
But suppose he should come back.
Mr Elton! For his charade.
Then he will find we have gone out, will he not?
Yes. I suppose so.
If he is the man that I suspect him to be
he will come in search of us,
which should not present too much difficulty
because Williams knows that
this is my day for visiting old Mrs Penny.
Yes, Miss Woodhouse.
- Are you tired, Harriet?
- No, not in the least bit, thank you.
Then shall we go the long way round,
past the church and up Vicarage Lane?
- May we, Miss Woodhouse?
- Of course.
One day, Harriet, Vicarage Lane will be
the most familiar place in the world to you.
You and your riddle book.
Miss Woodhouse, I do so wonder that... you have
not married yourself, so charming as you are.
Thank you, Harriet.
My being charming, as you're kind enough
to call me, has really nothing to do with it.
I must find other people charming,
one other at least.
I am afraid I have very little intention of marrying.
Goodness! It... it is strange to hear
a woman talk so, Miss Woodhouse.
I have none of the usual inducements to marry.
I do not lack fortune,
consequence or employment.
But, most important of all,
I have never been in love.
Miss Woodhouse!
Few married women are as much mistresses
of their husbands' houses as I am of my father's.
And if I cannot make a change for the better,
I have no intention of doing so for the worse!
But to become an old maid, like Miss Bates?
That is a truly formidable argument,
Harriet, I do admit.
Poor Miss Bates, boring us all with the virtues
of her nephews and nieces!
If her precious Jane Fairfax sends her the pattern
for a stomacher or knits herself a pair of garters,
- we must all hear about it!
- Miss Woodhouse!
No, a single woman with a very narrow income
must always appear somewhat ridiculous.
- Miss Woodhouse!
- A narrow income contracts the mind.
But a single woman of good fortune
is always respectable
and as sensible and pleasant as anybody else.
- Miss Woodhouse, please!
- It may not be justice, but it is the truth, I fear.
He's there behind us. Mr Elton.
Then let us walk on as before,
Harriet, but not too quickly.
Miss Woodhouse!
- Mr Elton!
- Miss Woodhouse. Miss Smith.
Forgive me following you like this.
I forgot to pay my respects to your father when
I called, and I would happily call this evening...
We should be delighted to see you at any time,
you know that.
...only I had engaged myself to Mr Cole.
- What a pity!
- It could be broken, of course.
- No, no, please don't do that. Another time.
But you will be wanting back your charade...
Your friend's charade. Harriet?
Oh. Yes, Miss Woodhouse.
- Well, at any time that's convenient.
- We both think it's excellent, quite excellent.
- Harriet would like to transcribe it into her book.
- Yes, Miss Woodhouse.
Thank you. My friend will be honoured, I'm sure.
Your friend must be a man of some wit, Mr Elton.
- Will you walk with us?
- Of course.
- Bother it!
- What is the matter?
Merely that I have broken my bootlace.
I felt it go just now.
May I be of some assistance?
Thank you, Mr Elton, but I hardly think that is
an office a gentleman can very well perform.
I beg your pardon.
If you will be so good
as to stroll on with Miss Smith,
I shall join you
as soon as I have overcome my little difficulty.
Of course.
(FIRE CRACKLES)
(CLOCK TICKS)
Williams, there you are!
Is everything prepared for their arrival?
Yes, Mr Woodhouse, long ago!
Good fires in the bedrooms? Some warm soup!
They'll have had a dreadful journey, poor things!
But why, Papa? It is only a short distance
and the weather is most kind.
It may turn to rain
and then the poor horses are bound to slip!
Please do not distress yourself so, Papa.
Those poor children!
They'll be exhausted, my dear.
It's Isabella I'm worried about.
She's like your poor dear mother used to be.
She suffers dreadfully on a long carriage journey.
Nonsense, Papa.
Now, you sit there, warm by the fire,
and I will be there when they arrive.
(HORSE AND CART APPROACH)
They're here. They have come!
Williams! Williams!
Oh, what a mercy! They're safe!
- Emma! Emma, how delightful it is to be back!
- Isabella!
Yet it seems strange
without Miss Taylor to greet us.
- Mrs Weston, my love. Hello, Emma.
- Hello, Mr John.
- Say hello to your aunt.
- Never mind! They want to stretch their legs.
- Williams! Take Mary up to the nursery.
- Very good, Miss Woodhouse.
- Hello, Bella.
- Hello, Auntie Emma.
Henry! John!
Go up to your rooms at once,
take off your coats and wash your hands.
(BOYS) Yes, Papa.
When you have brushed your hair, you may
come down again. No horseplay in the passages!
No, Papa.
Ah, my child! My poor, poor child!
What a terrible journey you must have had.
And the baby! What has happened to the baby?
It is all right, Papa. Mary has taken her upstairs.
John, my dear fellow! How are you?
Tolerably well, considering I've just been shut up
for hours with those two young hooligans of ours!
Where are the boys? Poor little fellows!
They must be exhausted after their journey,
I'm sure. Come in!
So exhausted
we could scarcely hear ourselves speak!
- Get yourselves warm!
- It's so good to be back.
As I was saying to Emma, Hartfield hardly seems
the same without dear Miss Taylor.
- Mrs Weston, my love.
- Poor Miss Taylor!
Yes, that was a grievous business indeed!
Most grievous.
- But you see her often still, I hope?
- No, hardly ever. It is most sad.
Papa! She has been here every day but one
since they came home.
Has she? If you say so, I suppose,
but she is always obliged to go away again!
Never mind. You will all be meeting very shortly,
because Mr and Mrs Weston and Mr Knightley
are dining with us this evening.
- Thank you. In the drawing room, are they?
- Yes, sir. Excepting Miss Woodhouse.
- Where is Miss Emma?
- Upstairs, sir, in the nursery with the baby.
Is she?
Thank you, Williams.
(KNOCK AT DOOR)
May I come in?
Just one moment, please.
You may come in now, Mr Knightley.
I was told that you were up here.
May I see her?
There. Is she not a pretty girl?
Is she not a beauty?
Say good evening to your Uncle Knightley, miss.
Say good evening.
Good evening, little Emma.
She's one thing that we have in common,
you and I.
What a comfort it is we think alike
about our nephews and nieces, Mr Knightley!
As to our opinions of men and women,
they do not always quite coincide.
On the subject of children, that is never the case.
If your judgement of men and women were
as sound as it is now, we should never disagree.
So our disagreements must always arise
from my being in the wrong, Mr Knightley?
- Is that so?
- Yes, it would appear so.
Indeed.
The reason is not far to see.
I was 16 when you were born.
I have no doubt as to your being very much
my superior in judgement then, I grant you.
But it was 21 years ago, remember.
Circumstances have altered a little since then.
Yes, but I still have the advantage
of 16 years' experience, don't forget,
and by not being a pretty,
overindulged young woman.
Come, my dear Emma.
Let us be friends again, hmm?
Little Emma, you tell your aunt that
she ought to be setting you a better example
than by renewing old grievances,
and that if she weren't wrong before,
then she is now, eh?
That is true, very true.
There, little Emma.
You grow up a better woman than your aunt!
Be much cleverer and not half so conceited.
You look a little pale, my love.
I'm sure the air of London doesn't suit you.
Why don't you let Perry
give you a thorough examination?
But I'm already in the hands
of Mr Wingfield in London
and he understands my constitution perfectly.
- But was it not he who prescribed sea-bathing?
- Yes, it was most beneficial to the whole family.
Perry has no faith in sea-bathing. In his opinion,
with some constitutions it may be harmful.
But it did the children a great deal of good!
If you must go to the sea,
it had much better not have been Southend.
Oh? Why not, pray?
Perry was must surprised that you had gone
there. He considers it an unhealthy place.
Southend unhealthy?
Then where does Mr Perry recommend?
My dear, you should have gone to Cromer!
- Cromer?
- Of all bathing places, he considers it the best.
A fine open sea, Perry says, and very pure air.
There were some new timbers
for the roof at the Mill farm.
New roof timbers? You are an indulgent landlord!
Young Martin's a very good tenant.
He farms the land well. He deserves it.
Yes, Emma dear, we are really hopeful that Frank
will be with us by Christmas Eve at the latest.
- Is that not good news?
- Most excellent news!
So, we hope to see you all
at Randalls to greet him.
Better to stay in London
than to travel 40 miles to get into worse air!
- But, Father...
- Perry said it seemed a very ill-judged measure!
- He should keep his opinion until it is asked for!
- John!
Why is it any business of his to wonder at what
I do? I want his opinion no more than his drugs!
Papa? Papa.
Mr and Mrs Weston have asked that
we should dine at Randalls on Christmas Eve.
- Is that not kind?
- Dine at Randalls on Christmas Eve? Oh, dear!
If Mr Perry can tell me how to convey a wife
and three children, not to mention a nursemaid,
a distance of 130 miles
at no greater expense or inconvenience than 40,
I should be extremely obliged to him.
John dear, please!
By then he hopes his son Frank will really be
with us at last. Is that not so, Mr Weston?
I think Miss Emma betrays an interest, eh?
I must admit, though I do say it myself,
he's a mighty handsome young lad these days.
I am quite sure he is. Why should he not be?
D'you hear that, my love? Thank you, my dear!
Miss Bates has her niece coming, so we shall
have plenty of young people to liven us up.
Ah, sweet Jane Fairfax! How is she? I've heard
no mention of her in your letters, Emma.
Is she still with her friends at Weymouth?
You will not hear much of Jane Fairfax
from Emma. You should know that, my love.
So you don't care for competition where
the young gentlemen are concerned? Is that it?
I am sure I do not know why Mr John should give
the impression I do not care for Miss Fairfax.
I have always maintained
that she has great beauty.
But a cold and haughty manner, is that not right?
She is reserved, certainly.
Yes, I think perhaps I do prefer
a more open nature. That is quite true.
And Miss Bates? How is poor, dear,
good-hearted Miss Bates these days?
Dear Miss Bates is much as usual. I think
we all of us know what that means, do we not?
Jane Fairfax is certainly a comely, handsome girl.
But Emma's new friend Harriet Smith is just
such another pretty young person, in my opinion.
Who, for goodness' sake, is Harriet Smith?
Poor Harriet!
But let it be some comfort to you that Mr and
Mrs Weston extended their most cordial welcome.
Miss Woodhouse, I am so disappointed!
I could weep!
Never mind! Another time will come.
But it won't! I know it won't!
Do not be so foolish. Of course it will!
But you are in no condition to go anywhere. You
have a fever and I think Perry should see you.
Miss Woodhouse, I'm sorry to be so tiresome
when... when you've been so kind,
but I really am so dreadfully disappointed!
Poor Harriet.
But I have a fancy that you are not going to be
the only one to be disappointed, Harriet.
- What do you mean, Miss Woodhouse?
- You will not be one of the party this evening.
No.
I have a feeling that someone, I will not say who,
is going to be very much out of countenance when
he sees your empty place at the table tonight!
- Mr Elton?
- Miss Woodhouse!
- Were you going to enquire after Harriet?
- Yes, I had heard she'd taken cold.
That is kind. Poor Harriet. I'm afraid there is no
possibility of her going to Randalls this evening.
Oh, dear. I am extremely sorry to hear that.
Her cold is feverish and her throat much inflamed.
A sore throat? Not infectious, I hope?
Not of a putrid kind? Has Perry seen her?
I believe Mrs Goddard has sent for him, but thank
you for your concern, Mr Elton. It's most kind.
Not at all.
Oh, dear! Poor Harriet!
I almost envy her being unable to go out tonight.
It's turned so cold all of a sudden.
If I were you, Mr Elton, I would take this
opportunity to excuse myself and stay indoors.
- But Mrs Weston...
- You have a busy day tomorrow.
I'm sure Mrs Weston would quite understand,
under the circumstances.
Miss Woodhouse, I can assure you nothing
will prevent me from attending the party tonight.
- But I thought...
- Emma! Whoa, back there, steady!
- Mr John!
- Emma, jump in!
- Thank you, but...
- This is no weather to be out walking.
Sorry, Elton. We meet this evening, eh?
Hup, good boy!
Never have I met a man more intent on making
himself agreeable where ladies are concerned!
- Mr Elton?
- With men he can be quite simple and rational.
But with ladies, I confess he makes my boot itch.
His manners are not perfect, I admit,
but he has a great degree of goodwill.
Towards you, certainly.
- Towards me?
- That's what I said.
Are you imagining me to be Mr Elton's object?
Such an imagination had crossed my mind, I own.
- What an absurd idea!
- I think not.
Think about it and regulate your conduct
towards him as a consequence.
- My conduct to Mr Elton?
- I speak as a friend.
Really! I do not understand
what you can possibly mean.
Oh? Very well.
Thank you, my dear, thank you. That's it.
Oh, my stick.
Could you... Thank you, dear.
You go on with Emma and Isabella, sir.
The rest of us will follow.
For once I agree with the old gentleman.
Four horses and four servants
to convey five people who would rather stay at
home than go out in weather that threatens snow.
- What is that?
- Father, we don't want the horses to get cold.
Oh, no, no, not indeed!
How very like you, my dear, to think of it!
The ladies in the first carriage
with Mr Woodhouse.
George and I will follow in the other
and call on Miss Bates and Elton.
Come in, all of you!
This dreadful weather!
I thought I saw a fleck of snow,
but the girls assured me it was not.
No, we shall not have snow,
you may depend upon it.
But I have a disappointment for Emma.
- For me?
- My son Frank cannot be with us.
What a shame! Not bad news, I hope?
No, simply that he has
a great many engagements these days.
- But he will make the journey in the new year.
- Indeed I hope so.
Yes, he's been hoping to come to us
since September. Every letter's been full of it.
But he cannot command his own time.
He has to please those who may be pleased only
by a great many sacrifices. Is it not so, my love?
- I am afraid so, my dear.
- But I've no doubt of seeing him in January.
That is his intention, certainly.
So, what with Frank and your pretty little friend
Miss Smith, we shall be two short, I'm afraid.
Miss Bates's niece cannot be with us either.
I'd forgot. Miss Fairfax. We must make
what cheer we can without them, eh, Emma?
You and I will not sit by with long faces, eh?
- No, indeed, we shall not, Mr Weston.
- No, no!
I will... I will retain my muffler for a while,
if nobody objects.
An old man's privilege, you know.
Oh, she does write such a beautiful hand!
A fine, clear, bold hand, I would call it!
I say, does she not write a very fine hand,
my niece Jane?
- You have remarked upon it yourself, Emma.
- I do not recall having done so, Miss Bates.
Now, where did I put that letter?
I read it again to Mother just now.
Here it is!
Oh, no, it was not so long!
It was quite short, in fact!
As a rule, she does not write a short letter.
She covers a whole page and then crosses it!
My mother often wonders that I can read it!
"Hetty," she says, "I don't know
how you can make out such chequer-work!"
Ah, here it is!
I knew I had it with me.
Father!
The others are busy with their port-wine
so I thought I would join the ladies.
- May he?
- Of course he may.
- Take the chair opposite the fire.
- Thank you.
I must confess that I find the company of ladies
infinitely more to my liking. Thank you.
I was just telling Emma I received a letter
this afternoon from my niece Jane Fairfax.
Such a delightful letter! I do not know
anyone to equal Jane as a correspondent.
Ah. Good, I see that I'm not the first.
May I join you and Miss Woodhouse,
Mrs Weston?
- If Miss Woodhouse has no objection.
- Thank you, ladies.
I suppose you've had no further news
of Miss Smith? I had no time to call in there.
You might persuade Miss Woodhouse
not to venture into the sickroom.
Always so careless of her own safety! Please do
give me your support in forbidding her to do so!
- I have no influence upon her these days.
- I should think not, indeed!
Then I shall have to issue the prohibition myself!
Miss Woodhouse, I cannot allow you
to run the risk of a putrid infection
that might have serious consequences
upon your health.
I fail to see by what right
you make such a statement!
Ah!
You might all be interested to learn that it is
snowing hard and the ground is already white!
The children! I must get home at once!
This should be something new
for your coachman and horses, sir, a snowstorm!
- A snowstorm?
- Emma! Father! Mrs Weston, I'm extremely sorry.
- John dear, you should order the carriages!
- Very well, my dear, if you think so.
If it has been snowing all the while
we shall never get home!
No need for hurry! An hour's snow
will hardly make the road completely impassable.
Besides, if one carriage is overset
then there is always the other!
That is the joy of it!
Weston and I have been out as far as the gate.
There's very little yet.
And easing off already. It is nothing at all!
I'm not going to stay another moment. Off you go.
Not leaving us already? It is not yet ten o'clock!
I'm extremely sorry, Mr Weston.
Such a delightful evening! John dear! John dear!
I'm so sorry, Mrs Weston.
May I fetch you your cloak?
- No, thank you.
- Allow me.
- Thank you, Mr Elton, but it is upstairs.
- Yes, of course.
I am afraid we shall have a very bad drive,
very bad.
- Isabella will not like it. She's nervous.
- Father!
I don't know what you're all in such a hurry for.
We've got two spare rooms, one for
the gentlemen, one for the ladies! Eh, m'dear?
- Father, do be quick, please.
- Sir, let me take your arm.
Thank you, my dear fellow.
I am so afraid of slipping.
- Elton? You coming with us?
- No, no room. I'll come in the second carriage.
- Take my place if you wish.
- No, I wouldn't dream of it. No, I insist.
I'm so sorry! After all the trouble you've taken.
It makes one wonder whether it is wise
to venture out at all at this time of year!
- Goodbye.
- Goodbye Miss Bates. Goodnight, Mr Knightley.
There you are, my dear!
You won't have to go alone, you have an escort.
Yes. Thank you, Mrs Weston. I am sorry
about this, but you know my father and Isabella.
Of course, my dear, I quite understand.
Thank you, Emma.
Goodbye, safe journey. Mr Elton.
Goodbye! Safe journey.
It still snows a little, I see.
Really, I can scarcely imagine
how he manages to find his way, poor man.
It is fortunate the journey is so short...
- Mr Elton!
- Miss Woodhouse.
- How can I express my passion?
- Mr Elton!
Miss Woodhouse, say that I may hope.
Say that I may. If you do not, I shall die.
This to me, sir! You forget yourself!
I do not. Indeed I do not.
Oh, Miss Woodhouse!
Beautiful, adorable Miss Woodhouse!
- So elegant! So proud!
- Control yourself, Mr Elton!
- Forgive me! You're irresistible!
- Mr Elton!
Quite irresistible!
Really, sir!
I must ask you to behave yourself.
I quite understand
that when a gentleman has had
a glass or two of wine, he is not quite himself.
Very well. I am not one to tell tales.
If you give me your word of honour
that this does not occur again,
I will not breathe a word of it to Miss Smith.
- Is that understood?
- Miss Smith? What is she to do with it?
- Surely...
- Miss Smith is nothing to me. You know that.
- Indeed I do not!
- Oh, charming Miss Woodhouse!
You know quite well my feelings for you,
else why have you encouraged me so?
- I encourage you?
- Certainly!
Mr Elton, I think you must be out of your mind!
Of course you have, repeatedly.
First the charade, which you were happy
to accept from me. Remember?
- I, sir?
- Yes, you.
And the picture frame,
which cost me a day's journey to London.
- The picture frame?
- For your exquisite drawing.
- But my drawing was of Miss Smith.
- But the artist was you.
Then it has not been Miss Smith at all?
I never thought of her. If she imagined otherwise,
then it is her own wishes that have misled her.
Everything I have done and said has been
for you alone. I'm sure you don't mistake me...
- Keep away, sir!
- Charming Miss Woodhouse!
Confess this coquettish attitude
permits me to believe that you do feel something!
No, sir, it does not! It does nothing of the sort!
If I had thought that your pursuit
of poor Miss Smith had been...
My pursuit of Miss Smith?
Yes, Mr Elton, pursuit.
Really, madam, I can scarcely understand you.
Everyone has his own level,
- but I am hardly at such a loss...
- That is enough!
- Let me finish.
- No, sir, I shall not.
I see we are almost at your door.
I would be very much obliged if you would
allow me to continue my journey alone, please.
Very well. If you wish.
Mr Elton!
I have no thoughts of matrimony at present.
Goodnight, sir.
Goodnight, madam.
What an experience!
Dreadful! Dreadful!
That is the last time I shall venture out
in the evenings until the spring!
I hear the other carriage!
John, open the door, please.
Thank goodness! She is safe!
I didn't dare think about her in the hands
of a Hackney coachman. James is so careful.
Excellent, excellent! We had visions of you
flung into a snowdrift with Elton!
Now, then!
We'll all have a good warm bowl of gruel.
- What do you think, Emma?
- Not for me, thank you, Father.
- My dear, you must! It'll make you sleep.
- Excuse me. Goodnight.
Oh, dear! What is the matter
with everybody these days?
EMMA (1972–…): SEASON 1, EPISODE 3 EPISODE #1.3 - FULL TRANSCRIPT
After encouraging Harriet to fall in love with Mr. Elton, Emma now has to face
the unpleasant task of telling Harriet about Mr. Elton's proposal to her.
(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.
EMMA (1972–…): SEASON 1, EPISODE 4 EPISODE #1.4 - FULL TRANSCRIPT
Frank Churchill and Emma have been discussing Jane Fairfax and the
mystery behind the piano that she has been given.
- Is Miss Woodhouse in, please?
- Yes, miss, she's in the morning room.
Oh, thank you.
(PIANO PLAYING)
- Bravo, Miss Woodhouse!
- Harriet!
You played so beautifully that for a moment
I thought it must be Miss Fairfax.
I'm afraid my playing is no more like hers
than a lamp is like sunshine.
Nonsense, Miss Woodhouse, I think
you play every bit as well as she does.
Well, nearly.
And anyway, I like your manner of playing.
Thank you, Harriet.
I think you have great delicacy and taste.
So does Mr Churchill.
Really? I was not aware
that he had heard me play.
He and Mr Knightley had a great dispute
upon the point last night.
Mr Knightley was all for Miss Fairfax,
but Mr Churchill would have none of it.
He said that in his opinion, taste was
far more important than mere execution.
- He did, really, Miss Woodhouse.
- Thank you for telling me.
But are you not up and about early? I had not
thought to see you so soon after our late night.
I have some shopping to do at Ford's.
Besides, I... I was anxious to know
your opinion of the party.
- Was it not splendid?
- Well, I am glad you thought it so, Harriet.
And... how did you think the Miss Coxes looked?
As they generally do, somewhat vulgar. Why?
They told me something,
but it is not of any great consequence.
Well, clearly you do not think so. What was it?
They told me that...
- Mr Martin dined with them last Sunday.
- Oh.
They talked a great deal about him,
especially Anne Cox.
Mrs Goddard thinks that either of the Coxes
would be glad to marry him.
Very possibly. They are without doubt
the most vulgar girls in Highbury.
Oh...
Yes, I suppose they are.
Come, now, Harriet, if you have something to buy,
let us go down to Ford's together.
Yes, Miss Woodhouse. I like of all things
to go shopping the morning after a party.
There's always a possibility that one will meet...
well, so many people.
Yes, Harriet.
(BELL RINGS)
I like the colour. I like it exceedingly.
In fact, I think that I prefer it to the other.
Miss Woodhouse,
is that not a very pretty shade of blue?
Yes, but as the colour you require is yellow...
Oh, yes. Then you think perhaps the other?
May I see it again, please, Mrs Ford?
- Certainly, miss.
- I'm sorry.
- Not at all.
- Thank you.
Now I come to look at it again,
it seems a little on the narrow side.
What do you think, Miss Woodhouse?
Would you not say that that was a trifle?
Oh. Oh, dear.
Oh, goodness.
(BELL RINGS)
Ah. There! What did I say?
I told you Miss Woodhouse
is always to be found at Ford's at this hour.
Good morning.
- He insisted we look in.
- Well, naturally.
I'm not shopping for myself. I came with Harriet.
We are on our way to Miss Bates'.
The Coles are to inspect the new piano.
But we have already inspected the new piano.
Oh, but they'll be most put out if you don't come.
Oh, nonsense. I should be very much in the way.
You go forward and make my excuses.
Perhaps I may be in the way here too. Miss
Woodhouse looks as if she didn't greatly want me.
My stepmother sends me off when she goes
shopping. She says I fidget her to death.
Miss Woodhouse looks as though
she feels the same, so what am I to do?
Well, if you have promised Miss Bates
and her niece, it is very clear what you should do.
Oh...
Very well, then. I will leave you.
- I must go, I promised we should not be late.
- Tell them that I shall be along presently.
Really, Mr Churchill,
I think you are most unfeeling.
- Miss Fairfax will be most disappointed.
- Oh, I hardly think so.
Anyway, Mr Knightley is to be there,
and I'm sure he will provide
all the praise and encouragement needed.
Besides, if she should be in poor voice
again this morning, what should I say?
I am the wretchedest in the world
at a civil falsehood.
I believe no such thing.
I think you can be quite as insincere
as your neighbour when the occasion arises.
Ah. Harriet seems at last
to have made up her mind.
Very well, then, I shall go.
Perhaps we may renew our partnership
upon the dance floor before too long.
At least I hope so.
Thank you, Mr Churchill. Goodbye.
Thank you. Shall I send it to Mrs Goddard's, miss?
Yes, please.
Oh, no... Oh, yes!
To Mrs Goddard's, if you please.
Wait a minute. My bonnet is at Hartfield.
Better send it there.
Very good, miss.
But Mrs Goddard will want to see it
before I sew it on.
Whatever you say, miss.
Better send it to Mrs Goddard's... perhaps.
Well, I can always take it
from there to Hartfield later on, I suppose.
Oh, Miss Woodhouse, what do you advise?
That you do not spend another moment upon it.
We will take it with us, thank you.
Yes, of course, that is much the best idea.
Thank you, Mrs Ford.
A dance? Here?
Why not, my love? It was Frank's suggestion.
I think it a capital one.
But we have not the space.
Oh, well, just the same small happy company
we had last night at Mrs Cole's.
- Something of the sort.
- But our rooms are not near so large.
- Nevertheless...
- We could not have nearly so many here.
Well, a smaller affair, about four or five couple.
Oh, well.
Five couple would stand up very well.
What say you, Frank?
Yes, but it will not really do
to invite a mere five couple.
Not for dancing.
It is too small a number, too insignificant.
Five may stand up as an afterthought,
but not by invitation.
- Quite so, quite so.
- Perhaps some other form of entertainment?
You know, I think we've been too nice
upon this question.
In my opinion, we could get nearer ten in here
with a little rearrangement.
I think you may very well be right.
- Oh, dear.
- Ten couple would be a different matter.
Let's work out our numbers.
Just jot them down, would you, my love?
- Let's begin with the ladies, eh?
- Miss Woodhouse, of course.
And Jane Fairfax... and we should
really include little Miss Smith.
- Oh, yes, yes, put down Harriet Smith.
- The Miss Gilberts. We cannot leave them out.
- You have not even mentioned Mr and Mrs Cole.
- Nor I have, my love.
- Mr Elton and his new bride.
- I doubt they will have returned from Bristol.
Those two other young ladies.
What were their names? The Miss Coxes.
That would mean inviting Mr and Mrs Cox.
We couldn't leave them out if we invite
all the others. It would be too unkind.
- Very well.
- And if we ask the Coles,
I don't see how we can possibly
do other than invite the Freemans also.
Which reminds me, they have her brother
and his family staying with them.
I forget how many young people there are.
No. No, this is quite impossible.
I'm sorry, but it simply cannot be done.
Well, then, let me, if I may,
put forward quite another plan.
The Crown Inn? Oh, no, no.
I have never been inside it, but a room at an inn
is always so damp and dangerous.
Emma would be sure to catch a chill.
Oh, nonsense, Papa.
I think it an excellent suggestion.
Good. I'm exceedingly glad to hear you say so.
Does Miss Taylor, your stepmother,
agree to this?
Indeed, sir, she is very greatly in favour of it.
And as I was going to observe, sir,
there is far less likelihood of catching cold
at the Crown than at Randalls.
- Oh? How so?
- Well, simply because it is larger, sir,
so we shall have no occasion to open a window
the whole evening.
Open a window?
But surely, Mr Churchill,
nobody at Randalls would be so imprudent.
Dancing with open windows?
Neither your father nor poor Miss Taylor that was
would ever suffer such a thing.
Ah, but a thoughtless young person
might well step behind a curtain
and throw up a sash
without anyone being the wiser.
- I've often known it done.
- Have you?
Have you indeed?
Goodness gracious me.
Well, I live so out of the world
that I'm often astonished at what I hear.
Well, that makes a difference, certainly.
Besides, Papa, if it can be contrived
to be held at the Crown,
it would be so very convenient for the horses,
for they will be so very near their own stable.
So they will, my dear.
Yes, that is indeed a point too.
And it will be less far for James to drive,
not that he ever complains.
No, the only question is whether the room
would be properly aired.
- Is that woman at the Crown to be trusted?
- I can answer your fears on that head, sir.
My stepmother is to take full charge
of the arrangements.
- There, Papa!
- Oh, very well... very well.
If it must be, it must be, I suppose.
Thank you, sir, for your great help.
Well, this discharges my first duty.
Now it only remains for me
to canvass the suggestion with Miss Bates,
but she is hardly likely
to raise objections, I'm sure.
- But her agreement will take just as long, I fear.
- Very true.
If you are calling upon Miss Bates,
perhaps you would take her more apples.
It would save Emma a journey.
- Indeed I will.
- Indeed you will not, sir.
- You will run no errands for me.
- You do not trust me, madam.
I will come with you
and you may help me carry them.
- That is, if you do not object to my company.
- It is an unexpected honour.
- One moment, while I get my bonnet.
- Where are you going?
To Miss Bates', Papa, with the apples.
I shall not be gone long.
- But I thought...
- Excuse me, sir.
Miss Woodhouse? There... I cannot thank you
enough, I really cannot thank you enough.
Such beautiful apples!
Dear Jane at present
makes such a shocking breakfast always.
You'd be frightened if you saw it.
I dare not let my mother see how little she eats.
I say this and I say that and it passes off.
And then, about the middle of the morning,
she begins to feel hungry
and there's nothing she likes so well
as a baked apple.
They're very wholesome, I believe, for I stopped
Dr Perry recently in the street and asked him.
- (WHISPERING) Shh, Miss Bates.
- Oh.
(WHISPERING) And apple dumplings.
Patty makes an excellent apple dumpling.
She has many faults, I know, but she does make
a very good apple dumpling.
Miss Bates, I really think we ought to attend.
(PLAYS FINAL FLOURISH)
- Oh, bravo! Most excellent.
- Well done, well done, my dear.
Mr Dixon is a fine judge of an instrument,
would you not say, Miss Woodhouse?
He has chosen most wisely and well.
Mr Churchill, it is not fair.
Mine was but a random guess.
Oh, but we were talking the other day
about his being a warm admirer of her talents,
don't you remember?
Of course, but I did not mean to reflect on his
good intentions in giving it, or hers in receiving it.
Oh, no, of course not, Miss Woodhouse. I'm sure
nobody would suspect you of such a thing.
And, er... these were sent with it, I understand.
A set of Irish melodies.
He must have heard you play them at Weymouth,
Miss Fairfax.
I said, did you not play some of these charming
Irish songs when you were in Weymouth?
I did, sir.
Your meaning is too plain.
You are making her most uncomfortable.
If she has a guilty conscience,
that is no fault of mine.
I am half ashamed
that I ever suggested such a thing.
I'm extremely glad that you did, Miss Woodhouse.
It may account for her odd manners.
Leave the shame to her if it is true.
- Mother, you would like to hear another piece.
- Aunt, please...
- But we should all like to, would we not?
- Indeed we would.
She plays so well, does she not?
Such a delicate touch.
What about "Robin Adair"? That was a great
favourite with the company at Weymouth.
Oh, yes, let's have "Robin Adair".
Ah.
Jane dear?
Mr Churchill, I am sure Miss Fairfax
has every right to decline if she wishes.
We are all to meet very shortly
at the Crown, are we not,
thanks to the kind hospitality of the Westons?
Oh, yes, so very kind, so generous.
I think the Crown an admirable suggestion,
do not you, Jane, dear?
May I hope to renew the partnership that was
begun so happily last night, Miss Woodhouse?
Really, Mr Churchill, I think that is a matter
best left to the occasion.
You do not think it too strong a colour,
Miss Woodhouse, with the yellow ribbon?
- No, not at all.
- Perhaps I should change the ribbons.
Perhaps I should not wear yellow ribbons at all.
- What do you think?
- That you should wear it exactly as it is.
Oh, I'm glad you think so. That is my opinion too.
You may wear strong colours.
They set off your complexion.
There are others who are not so fortunate.
There.
I hear from Miss Bates that...
Mrs Elton has a very fine complexion.
Indeed.
And that she's extremely elegant.
We will make up our own minds on that matter
when Mr and Mrs Elton return to Highbury.
I'm sure she will be beautiful, Miss Woodhouse.
Quite beautiful.
One cannot wonder at Mr Elton falling in love
with her, or she with him, for that matter.
It is not every man's fate
to marry the woman who loves him best.
She perhaps wanted a home
and thought this the best offer she would get.
And well she might.
Nobody could want a better, I'm sure.
Well, I...
I wish them happy with all my heart.
- Oh, Harriet.
- It's all right, Miss Woodhouse.
I will not mind seeing him again now.
No, indeed, you need not be afraid on my behalf.
I will sit in church
and admire him now
without... too much misery,
now that I know he has not thrown himself away.
- (KNOCK AT DOOR)
- Yes?
Miss Woodhouse, excuse me,
but Mr Churchill is here.
- Mr Churchill?
- In the drawing-room.
He asked most particularly that he might
speak with you, Miss Woodhouse.
Thank you, Williams.
(DOOR CLOSES)
Miss Woodhouse, I have
an extremely melancholy task to perform,
so let me dispatch it quickly.
I've had bad news from Yorkshire.
- Your guardian, Mrs Churchill?
- Yes.
My aunt is ill. How ill, I don't yet know,
but she has sent for me.
- Then you are leaving us?
- I fear so.
That is sad news, Mr Churchill, very sad.
When must you go?
- Immediately. This morning, in fact.
- This morning?
Yes, my father is coming round for me here
very shortly, I'm afraid.
Miss Woodhouse, you must think this sudden
departure both ill-mannered and extraordinary.
I have no right to question your actions.
Believe me, the decision was not mine.
No, in these matters
I'm afraid I am not my own master.
My portion is to obey,
whether or not there is justice in the command.
Of course. I understand.
Thank you, Miss Woodhouse. Thank you.
(SIGHS) Oh...
of all horrid things in the world,
leave-taking is the worst.
But you will come back to us again, surely?
This will not be your only visit to Randalls?
I cannot be sure, but I shall try for it, you may be
certain. I shall try for it most strenuously.
So... our poor ball must be quite given up.
Oh, that ball. Why did we not seize our pleasure
and hold it at once?
How often is happiness destroyed
by foolish preparation, eh?
Yes, how often.
Never mind. If I can come again,
we may still have it.
My father depends on it.
So hold yourself still engaged, Miss Woodhouse.
Very well, I will.
Oh, such a fortnight it has been,
every day more precious than the last,
every day rendering me less fit
to bear any other place.
Happy those who remain at Highbury.
As you do us now
such ample justice, Mr Churchill,
may I venture to ask if you did not come
a little doubtfully at first?
You read too much into my manner,
Miss Woodhouse.
So... you are leaving us this very morning?
Yes, my father is to come for me here
and we go immediately.
In fact, I fear him coming any moment.
Without even five minutes to spare
for poor Miss Bates and her niece? How sad.
Miss Bates' powerful and lucid arguments would
have persuaded you of the desirability of staying.
I need no persuading on that score,
I can assure you,
but I... I did call in there briefly
on my way here just now.
- You did?
- Yes, I had intended a moment only,
but was detained by Miss Bates herself being out.
She is a lady I fear one must laugh at,
yet one would not wish to slight.
But Miss Fairfax was at home, I trust?
Yes, she was within.
Miss Woodhouse, you have all treated me with
such extreme kindness while I have been here
that I feel I owe everyone,
and you particularly,
the utmost honesty and frankness.
I'm quite sure that you,
with your extreme powers of perception,
must be well aware
of the true state of my... my feelings.
(MR WEST0N) Frank? Frank, my boy!
The dogcart is outside.
(MUTTERS) Excuse me.
I'm just coming, Father!
(MR WEST0N) Don't come near the door,
please, Mr Woodhouse. It's a raw morning.
Oh, well, I shall hear about you all.
That is my chief consolation.
I have engaged my stepmother
to send me every possible item of news.
Oh, the blessing of a female correspondent.
She will bring dear Highbury close to me again.
Well, goodbye, Miss Woodhouse.
You know, do you not,
that it is my earnest wish
that we should meet again before long.
Goodbye.
Goodbye, Mr Churchill.
(RUNNING FOOTSTEPS)
Coming, Father. Coming!
Goodbye, Mr Woodhouse.
(DOGCART DRIVES AWAY)
Over it she wore a pelisse of magenta velvet
which suited her style of beauty
most admirably, I thought.
And Mrs Goddard has heard
that she also plays the piano very well.
Now, Harriet, your allowing yourself
to become so upset over Mr Elton's marriage
is the strongest possible reproach
you could make to me.
- Miss Woodhouse!
- Yes, it is.
You could not more constantly remind me
of my mistake, which is most hurtful.
Miss Woodhouse, it was not intended to be.
I have not said, "Think and talk less of Mr Elton"
for my sake, Harriet,
because it is for yours that I wish it.
My being hurt is a very secondary consideration.
But please, please, Harriet, do learn to exert
a little more self-discipline in this matter.
Yes, Miss Woodhouse.
We are all creatures of feeling.
We all suffer disappointments.
It is how we learn to suffer them
that forms our character.
If you continue in this way, I shall have to
think you wanting in true friendship for me.
Oh, Miss Woodhouse,
you who are the best friend I've ever had!
- Oh, what a horrid wretch I've been!
- No...
- Oh, yes, I have, I have!
- Harriet, control yourself.
That is better.
Now, you are going to tie your bonnet
and you are coming with me
to call upon Mr and Mrs Elton.
- Oh, Miss Woodhouse.
- Yes, you are.
You will find it far less distressing than you think.
- Miss Woodhouse, must I?
- Yes, Harriet.
But you may borrow my lace ruff if you wish.
May I, Miss Woodhouse?
Oh, thank you.
Oh, Miss Woodhouse!
- There, Harriet, you look very well indeed.
- Oh, thank you, Miss Woodhouse.
And remember now, you are inferior to no one.
Yes, Miss Woodhouse.
You live in the large house as one enters
the village, do you not, Miss Woodhouse?
- Hartfield is on the outskirts of the village.
- Mr Elton pointed it out to me.
I was struck by its likeness to Maple Grove,
my brother-in-law Suckling's seat near Bristol.
- Do you know that part of the world?
- No, I am afraid I do not.
The grounds particularly
put me in mind of Maple Grove.
The laurels are in the same profusion
and stand in very much the same way,
just across the lawn.
And I glimpsed a large tree
with a bench round it. Am I right?
- Yes, that is so.
- My brother-in-law has just such another,
only the tree, I fancy, is larger.
It is considered rather fine.
Do try a piece of shortbread, Miss Woodhouse.
My cook is hardly all that one could desire,
but she can make a tolerable shortbread.
- No, thank you.
- No?
- But perhaps Miss Smith.
- Oh, Miss... Oh. Do help yourself.
My brother and sister
have promised us a visit in the spring,
when you must join us in some expeditions,
Miss Woodhouse.
Their barouche-landau holds four comfortably,
so with our carriage,
transport should present no difficulties.
- You have many such parties already, I expect.
- Not many.
This is not a very smart society, Mrs Elton.
Hm... You are fond of music, so I understand,
Miss Woodhouse?
- And who gave you that information, Mrs Elton?
- Ah.
I told my caro sposo before we married that
I could do without the luxuries of Maple Grove,
but I said, "I do not think I could exist
without a musical society."
- Without music, life would be a blank to me.
- Indeed.
Miss Woodhouse, I hope we shall have
many sweet little concerts together.
You and I should form a musical club and have
regular weekly meetings at your house or ours.
That would be a capital plan, would not it?
Mrs Elton, I really think you have been
misinformed about me.
Miss Fairfax is the person you require.
SHE is the musician.
Ah, yes, yes, absolutely charming, is not she?
I quite rave about Jane Fairfax.
A sweet, interesting creature,
so quiet and ladylike, and with such talents.
I do know enough of music
to speak with certainty on that point.
You'll laugh at my warmth, but upon my word,
I talk of nothing but Jane Fairfax.
And her situation is so unfortunate, is not it?
Miss Woodhouse, we must do something for her.
We must bring her forward.
Such a talent as hers
should not be allowed to remain unknown.
I dare say you've heard
those charming lines of the poet...
"Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its fragrance on the desert air."
We must not allow that to be said
of poor Jane Fairfax.
I think there is very little danger of that,
Mrs Elton. Her talents are quite widely known.
Mm, but I fancy that where you and I lead,
others will follow, do you not?
Do you think so?
One can see she feels the want of
encouragement, but I like her the better for that.
I confess, it is quite a recommendation to me.
- I'm a great advocate for timidity in a woman.
- Indeed.
- But one doesn't often meet with it these days.
- No, that is very true.
Yes, Jane Fairfax is a delightful creature
and I shall have her very often to my house.
And I shall make it my business
to see that she finds a good situation.
My acquaintance is so extensive
that I'm sure to of hear of something suitable.
- With people of consequence, I mean.
- Of course.
Which reminds me, Mrs Weston seemed
a good-hearted, motherly creature, I thought.
She was your governess, I believe. I was
surprised to find her so much the gentlewoman.
Mrs Weston is a very old and valued friend
of my family, Mrs Elton.
And on returning her call, guess who was
among the company? Knightley himself.
- Who?
- Knightley, from Donwell Abbey.
You surely know him.
I confess, I had a great curiosity to see him
after what I'd heard from my caro sposo.
I liked him, Miss Woodhouse, yes, I did.
I don't know your opinion of him,
but I liked him very well.
His manner to me I thought particularly open
and friendly and gentlemanlike.
I am not ashamed to admit,
he impressed me most favourably.
- (DOOR BANGS)
- That sounds like my lord and master returning!
- If you will excuse us...
- Shh. Here, my love, in the drawing-room!
I'm sorry, my dearest Augusta,
but I was held up by Mr Cole.
- Oh.
- There. Is not this a pleasant surprise?
Yes, my love.
Insufferable woman! Intolerable creature!
- Knightley, indeed! I could not have believed it.
- Nevertheless, it is my name.
And to discover that you are a gentleman (!)
I doubt that you will be able to return
the compliment by finding her to be a lady.
- I doubt it very much indeed!
- Emma, Emma.
Oh... vulgar creature!
Little upstart, with her lord and master
and her caro sposo!
Oh... and her silly affectations
and underbred finery,
and to propose that she and I
should form a music club,
as though we were bosom companions.
- And shall you?
- No, sir, I shall not.
I fancy she already finds me
far less amenable than she had hoped.
- Jane Fairfax is to be her chosen companion.
- Jane Fairfax? I'm sorry to hear that.
"I shall have her very often to my house,
I can assure you."
It's a pleasure to which she is most welcome!
- Emma, I must hold you partly to blame for this.
- Me?! Why, pray?
If you had befriended her,
she would not have fallen victim to Mrs Elton.
Mr Knightley, I am surprised to hear you say that.
I would have thought
that with your high opinions of her qualities,
you would think Miss Fairfax
capable of forming her own judgements.
I've never made any secret
of my good opinion of her.
In fact, I sometimes wonder if the extent of your
admiration does not one day take you by surprise!
So that is what you think, eh?
- I was speaking in jest only...
- You are not the only one.
Others have said the same thing.
I was not serious.
But it will never be, I'm afraid.
In the first place,
I dare say she would not have me if I asked her,
and in the second,
I am very sure that I shall not ask her.
You are not vain, Mr Knightley,
I will say that for you.
And so you have been settling
that I shall marry Jane Fairfax. Well, well, well.
- (CHUCKLES)
- No, indeed, I have not.
You have scolded me
far too much in the past for matchmaking
for me to ever take such a liberty with you.
Besides, the truth is, I have no wish
for you to marry Jane Fairfax
or Jane anybody else, for that matter,
because if you did, you could not come
and sit with us in this comfortable, happy way,
as you have always done in the past.
I don't think that the extent of my admiration
for her will ever take me by surprise.
I've never thought of her in that way,
I assure you.
She is a charming young woman, but...
she has a fault.
A fault? Jane Fairfax?
Oh, I beg your pardon.
She has feeling,
her sensibilities are strong, I'm sure, but...
she's reserved. Too reserved.
More so than she used to be, I think.
And above all things,
I love a good open temper.
Father, may I speak to you a moment?
Er, y... By all means, my dear.
Shut the door, would you?
There's a disagreeable draught about my legs.
- It IS shut.
- What? Oh.
Father, I feel we are obliged to invite
Mr and Mrs Elton to supper.
- They have been returned now almost a month.
- Mrs Elton, did you say? Oh, dear.
Yes, Papa, I understand your feelings.
I mean no reflection on the young lady.
She seems quite a pretty, pleasant young person.
There's a quickness about the voice
that hurts the ear,
and I think I am rather nice on that subject.
Dear Miss Taylor was always so quiet-spoken.
But ask her by all means, my dear, if you wish.
But it is not just a question of my wishes, Papa.
And make my apologies to her
for not having called to pay my respects.
She must surely be aware of the fact
that you do not pay visits.
But, my dear, not to call upon a young bride
is very remiss.
A bride takes first place in company,
whoever the others may be.
Well, really, Papa, if this is not encouragement
to marry, I do not know what is.
I thought you were no friend to matrimony.
My dear, you do not understand me. This is
mere common politeness and good breeding.
It has nothing to do with my opinion of marriage.
So you will please explain to her
the reasons for my neglect, if you will.
Very well, Papa. If you wish.
We shall be only a small company.
Unfortunately Mr Weston has to go to London
on business that day
and I have decided not to include Harriet
on this occasion.
I fancy she will fully appreciate the reason.
Had Mrs Elton chosen to live anywhere else,
I would have tried to set my scruples aside.
Ah, dear, it shows what a sad invalid I am.
But I do not like that corner into Vicarage Lane.
The carriage tilts so.
- You positively must sit and talk to me.
- But I still have several errands...
Your aunt will not miss you
for a few moments longer.
Tell me, have you received
an invitation from Hartfield?
- I have.
- Oh, I'm so glad. Then I shall accept.
I told Mr E this morning, "I shall not answer
till I know that dear Jane is to be at the party."
(CHUCKLES) To tell truth,
I think I could not face the prospect
without the company of at least
one congenial member of my own sex.
You and I may exchange glances privately
on occasion, I fancy, may we not?
(MRS ELTON CHUCKLES)
But my only concern is what to wear.
What do you advise?
Entertaining at Maple Grove was so different.
There everything was on such a large scale,
nothing out of place.
But here I feel a danger lies
in the opposite direction.
The most ordinary of gowns at Maple Grove
would seem like an ostentation here,
and that's something I cannot abide.
Thank you, Mr Woodhouse. My husband
is so distressed that he couldn't come,
but he hopes to call in on his way back.
And you came all this way quite unattended?
Dear Miss Taylor, was that wise?
It only takes ten minutes from Randalls.
I'd scarcely put the rug round my ankles
before it was time to get out.
But James would have gone for you.
He is so reliable.
Why did you not think of it, Emma?
You'd have had no cause for anxiety with James,
I assure you.
But Mrs Weston is not anxious, and her own man
is just as dependable, I am sure.
- Oh, yes, just.
- Well, James shall take you back, then,
and, my dear, you may leave
as early as you please.
(MR WOODHOUSE) Excuse me.
- I trust you did not venture far this morning?
- Mr Knightley.
- I saw you in the high street, did I not?
- I was not aware, I didn't see you.
I was in the farrier's. I trust you did not get wet
before you got home?
I went to the post office.
I was back almost before the rain started.
What is this? Do I understand
that you got caught in the rain?
- Only for the merest moment, Mr Woodhouse.
- But young ladies are delicate plants.
They must take great care of themselves.
You changed your stockings, I hope?
Oh, I did, sir, and thank you for your concern,
but the whole matter
really was of no importance at all.
- (MRS ELTON) Mr Woodhouse?
- Excuse me. Yes?
So you make yourself useful to your aunt?
It is my daily errand to fetch letters.
It saves trouble, gets me out of the house
and the walk does me good.
- Miss Jane, you make me feel my years.
- Why is that, Mr Knightley?
There is a period in our lives
when the post office holds a particular charm.
When you have lived a little longer, you will find
that letters are seldom worth getting wet for.
You are speaking of business letters.
Mine are letters of friendship.
Besides, you have everyone dearest to you
close at hand, Mr Knightley.
I probably never shall have.
Oh, really? Why so... why so melancholy?
So, until I have outlived all my affections,
the post office will draw me out
in worse weather than today's.
Jane? Jane, what's all this about going
to the post office in the rain, you sad girl?
- How could you do such a thing?
- Really, why is everyone making such a fuss?
Really, you're a very sad girl.
I shall have to take you firmly in hand.
You are extremely kind, I'm sure,
but I like my early morning walk.
Not in the rain, dear, surely. You always
used to take such severe colds, I remember.
Oh, she shall not do such a thing again,
Mrs Weston, I shall see to it.
No, there must be... One of our men must go.
- No, really...
- I shall speak to Mr E about it.
- Dearest? He'll see that it's done.
- Yes, my love?
My dearest, poor Jane has to go to the post office
every morning to fetch her letters.
- Today she got drenched to the skin.
- Oh, that will not do, Miss Fairfax.
Madam, that is not so.
Besides, it is my own choice that I should go.
So, may not one of our fellows - George or Harry,
whatever their names may be - go for her?
- Of course.
- That's settled, so let's hear no more...
Excuse me, but I cannot consent
to such an arrangement.
Nonsense! Mr Elton, tell her the matter's closed.
She'll listen to you.
Perhaps, my love, Miss Jane has other reasons
for wishing to venture abroad in the mornings.
Perhaps there is a... a secret admirer.
Goodness gracious, I confess that's something
that did not even enter my head!
Oh, trust my good lord and master
to think of such a thing.
Sir, you have a mischievous imagination.
The post office is a wonderful establishment,
I always think. Do not you, Mrs Weston?
Oh, indeed. So many thousands of letters passing
about the country and so few that go astray,
in spite of the hands, and some
bad ones too, that they are written in...
So seldom anybody takes the trouble
to write clearly and boldly these days.
Mr Frank Churchill is one of the few
I can think of who does.
- His hand is so small, more like a woman's.
- No, it is not, Mr Knightley, not at all.
We cannot put it to the test, I'm afraid,
as we have no specimen to examine.
At least, I have not.
You will have to ask Mrs Weston to show you
some of his letters, as she has done to me.
And now if you will all please
come into the dining room...
- Madam, may I have the honour...
- Oh, must I go first?
- I'm quite ashamed of always leading the way.
- Miss Jane.
Please come this way.
If you're familiar with Bristol... Thank you...
you must know
my brother-in-law Suckling's place.
It's quite one of the places to be seen.
The grounds are not extensive,
not greatly larger than these,
- but of quite remarkable beauty.
- (OTHERS CONVERSE)
In fact, I've heard many gentlemen declare
the view of the house
when approaching in the barouche-landau
is as delightful as anything in Europe.
If you mean a fling at the slave trade,
Mr Suckling was a friend to the abolition.
I pray with all my heart that the gentlemen
may not take too long over the port,
or I shall be guilty of some sort of incivility.
Emma, Emma, do exercise a little self-control.
We all have our foibles, you know.
Oh, I know, and I'm sure I have plenty myself,
but there is a certain quality in her voice
which I find infuriating.
My dear, shh.
Oh, I had hoped Mr Weston
would be back from London by now.
He has gone to seek news of Mrs Churchill
from her lawyers.
I do hope she has improved.
Frank is most anxious to return to Highbury.
- I am sure you must all look forward to that.
- Oh, yes. We all do.
Your aunt tells me that you're worried
because you do not yet have
a suitable teaching appointment.
That is not strictly true, because my future plans
are still a little uncertain.
Mm. I didn't wonder at your concern, I must say,
because when Mr Suckling
advertised a similar post recently,
he had an absolute infinity of applications,
I remember.
That was a special case, I do admit,
a sought-after situation.
Wax candles in the schoolroom, even.
You can imagine how desirable.
- That place is filled, unfortunately.
- Please don't trouble on my account, Mrs Elton.
- I shall make my own enquiries, but not just yet.
- My dear child, it's no trouble, I assure you.
I shall write to my sister
at Maple Grove tomorrow.
She'll know of all the suitable families
who are requiring help.
Yes, now, why did I not think of that before?
Have no fear, Jane my love,
a word from me and I'm confident
you'll find the situation you deserve.
Excuse me, ma'am, but I'd be much obliged
if you'd do no such thing.
Ah!
Here comes my old beau, as I call him.
Fancy his coming away before all the other
gentlemen like an eager young fellow of 20.
Honestly, some of his gallantries at the dinner
table upon the cut of my gown and so on
were such that I almost hoped
my caro sposo wasn't around.
But one can't take exception to such pretty
speeches from a man his age, I always think.
Besides, there's something rather gentlemanly
about his manner, wouldn't you say?
- Emma! I have an addition to your number.
- Good evening... Mrs Elton.
- My love.
- Mr Weston, you are very welcome.
I shall be welcome enough
when you've heard my news.
Well, he's coming back. Frank is to return to us
at Randalls almost immediately.
Oh, that is wonderful news, wonderful news,
is it not, Emma dear?
Yes, indeed it is, very good news.
I always said he'd be back soon, did I not?
It's to be next week at the latest.
- Next week?
- That is my information.
Mrs Churchill is of the opinion that only
a London doctor can effect a cure on her behalf,
so she's taken a place in Richmond
for the season. Well, is that not capital news?
- They are coming to Richmond?
- Yes, my love.
Then we may revive our plans for the ball.
- Who, pray, is this Frank Churchill?
- I shall call at the Crown tomorrow.
And he asked most particularly that he might
re-engage himself to you for the opening dance.
Did he, Mr Weston? That was most kind of him.
So, in spite of being too late for dinner, I've not
exactly wasted my day, have I, my dear? Eh?
- Eh?
- No, Mr Weston, you have not.
EMMA (1972–…): SEASON 1, EPISODE 5 EPISODE #1.5 - FULL TRANSCRIPT
Mr.Elton has returned to Highbury with a bride, whom Emma dislikes. Mr.
Knightley and Emma have disagreed about Jane, who has been taken up by
Mrs. Elton.
Evening. Evening. I'm so glad
you could come after all... Ah!
And you are looking well.
So good of you to come.
My goodness, what a fine young lady
we've become all of a sudden, eh?
- I shall expect a dance later, mind.
- Thank you, Mr Weston.
- You must not stand up for too long.
- Nonsense, my dear.
Dr Perry was most insistent
that you take care tonight.
I promise to rest when I am tired.
- Emma!
- Mrs Weston, Mr Weston! Good evening!
- Good evening, Harriet.
- Good evening, Mrs Weston.
We are early, but you did ask especially
that we be in good time.
I did. I shall be most grateful for your support.
I am sure you will not need it, but we are
prepared to do anything that may be required.
Yes indeed, Miss Woodhouse.
Emma, you are casting a critical glance
upon our decorations.
I was merely admiring your wife's taste and skill
yet again, Mr Weston.
- I have never seen this room look so well.
- It looks tolerably gay and festive, don't it?
Harriet, dear, since you were so kind
as to offer your services,
I wonder if you could find a stool or a cushion
for poor Mr Freeman's bad foot.
- Certainly, Mrs Weston.
- Thank you.
Emma, I see a young fellow who should be
no stranger to you, even after two months.
- Frank?
- You mean Mr Churchill?
- Please do not disturb him, he does not hear.
- Oh, no, no, no. Frank!
Frank, my boy!
Oh, Miss Woodhouse!
So we meet once again, eh?
No need to inquire after your health,
I have the evidence of it before me.
You equally, I am sure, have not suffered
during your absence from us.
But I have, I do assure you.
Except perhaps to have become
a little hard of hearing (!)
Oh... well, I was most anxious to see the
newcomer amongst you, the great Mrs Elton.
I have heard so much of her
in my stepmother's letters.
You will hear much more
the moment she arrives, I assure you.
She was to collect Miss Bates and Jane. She has
quite taken poor Jane under her wing lately.
- Yes, so I understand.
- Though why I say "poor Jane", I do not know.
I confess, I have a great curiosity to see the lady.
She would be vastly flattered to know that,
I am sure.
Enough of Mrs Elton. You have not forgot
we are engaged for the first dance?
Oh, but that was for a previous occasion,
Mr Churchill.
- Nonsense, you gave me your word.
- Oh, no, no. You cannot hold me to it.
Oh, very well, then. Since I see you are in
a playful mood tonight, I will begin all over again.
Miss Woodhouse, may I have the honour
and the pleasure of the first dance?
Mr Churchill, if you persist so,
what can I say but yes? Thank you.
- Good. Now we are back on firm ground again.
- (MISS BATES) Thank you, thank you!
So very obliging of you.
Not really wet, nothing to signify.
Just a passing shower, no harm done.
These stout shoes.
- But poor Jane and Mrs Elton! So unexpected...
- Has anyone an umbrella?
It came on just as we drew up
at the door, quite sharp,
and poor Jane does take cold so easily.
I said to her as we were starting out, "Jane dear,
are you sure that tippet will be enough?"
- It's all right, I have the very thing.
- Oh, Mr Churchill, I didn't know you were there.
So, Mr Knightley, if you had a mind to play
Sir Galahad yourself, you find yourself forestalled.
My dear, I hope I could help a lady from a carriage
without first advertising the fact
to the entire company.
Well, oh, Mr Weston!
Oh, how fine it all is, is it not, Jane dear?
It's quite a transformation.
You must have had an Aladdin's lamp.
It's a veritable Fairyland, truly it is.
I'm glad you like it, ma'am. I think
we shall be tolerably comfortable here, certainly.
- Do you not think Jane looks well?
- Yes.
I tell you in confidence,
she made her gown herself.
Every stitch by her own hand.
But do not repeat it,
for she would not thank me for having told you.
I said to her, "Jane, you should be proud,
there's not a dressmaker in London..."
Oh! My, it's Dr Hughes! Well, how very nice.
And Mrs Hughes.
Is this not wonderful?
Quite a transformation, in my opinion.
- Where is Mr Richard?
- He's over there.
Oh, no, don't disturb him. He's much better
employed talking to the young ladies.
- Miss Bates?
- Oh, Mr Knightley!
A fine young man I consider Frank Churchill.
The way he took my arm to hand me
from the carriage was extremely gentlemanly.
Yes, I like him very well indeed.
No, I see very few other jewels in the room,
apart from my own.
- You're very silent. Are you nervous?
- No, thank you.
You need not be. I'll see that you get partners.
Thank you,
but you really need not concern yourself.
How do you think Knight has done my hair?
Do you think this style suits me?
Yes, very well.
Nobody could think less of such matters
in a general way than I,
but I owe it to Mr and Mr Weston to look my best,
as everybody's eyes are bound to be upon me.
Jane dear, how pretty you look.
Excuse me a moment.
Jane, indeed. She's extremely easy and familiar
in her modes of speech.
- That is nothing. But how do you like her?
- Who, Mrs Elton? Not at all.
- She is handsome.
- I thought you would say that.
- Well, it is true, is it not?
- Oh, yes...
- She is handsome, but... Ah!
- (MUSIC STARTS)
I see the true business of the evening
is about to begin.
Emma, my dear, I do hope you won't mind, but I
feel obliged to ask Mrs Elton to lead the dancing.
- She will expect it.
- Of course, Mrs Weston, I understand.
- I do hope you will not feel slighted.
- No, not in the least, it is her right.
Thank you, you're very understanding.
Who are we to suggest as her partner?
She will think Frank should accompany her.
I'm sorry, Father, I have a prior engagement.
- Oh, you've engaged yourself already?
- On this occasion, I am prepared to release you.
- I refuse to be released.
- Yes, yes, of course.
I think you should ask her yourself.
I? She'll not say thank you
to stand up with an old codger.
Indeed she will. Go on with you.
Don't worry, Father, so long as she may be first,
she will not care whom it is with.
- Mr Churchill, that was not kind.
- It was not intended to be.
Oh, la, Mr Weston, must it be I once again?
Is there really no one else?
Oh, well, then, I suppose
I must say yes. (CHUCKLES)
Really, it is almost enough
to make one think of becoming a bride oneself.
- Miss Woodhouse.
- Thank you, Mr Churchill.
(JAUNTY MELODY)
Mind you, the roses at Donwell Abbey,
the arbour walk is particularly fine this year...
Thank you, and you too, Miss Woodhouse.
And Mr Churchill also.
Forgive me, Mr Weston,
we do it differently at Maple Grove.
- I do beg your pardon, Mrs Elton.
- Oh, dear, poor Harriet.
Don't worry, Elton is there.
- Do you not dance, Mr Elton?
- Most readily, if you will do me the honour.
Oh, no, my dancing days are past, I'm afraid,
but little Miss Smith here lacks a partner.
Oh, well, erm, if you'll excuse me, ma'am,
I'm not really much of a dancing man.
I only ask in the hope
that you might give me the pleasure.
An old married man these days,
so if you'll forgive me...
Mr Knightley, you and I have to number ourselves
as observers on this occasion, do we not?
- Excuse me one moment.
- Yes, of course.
Harriet. Miss Smith. Would you
do me the honour to join me on the floor?
- Me, sir?
- Yes, you, Harriet.
- Come, let us show them what we can do, hm?
- Thank you, sir. Thank you.
No need in the world to thank me.
I see Knightley's taken pity on that poor
Smith child. Very obliging of him, I must say.
(MR WESTON) Yes.
(MRS ELTON) Extremely gentlemanly.
- Oh, so fast!
- (MAN) That was enjoyable. Very nice.
Thank you, ma'am.
(MRS ELTON) It's so long since I've danced...
Most enjoyable, but far too short. I shall claim
the honour of another dance later, if I may.
Thank you, sir.
Tell me, do you, er... do you have dancing classes
with Mrs Goddard?
Jane dear, where are you?
Ah, there you are, dear.
Good evening... Jane dear, put on your tippet,
you will catch cold.
There are draughts, I can feel them.
- Aunt, I do not need it, really.
- Oh, yes, dear, you must.
Now, I don't want to have you in bed tomorrow.
- Allow me.
- Oh, Mr Churchill, how very obliging of you.
Oh, how well you put it on,
quite to the manner born.
Are you not lucky to receive so much attention?
Now, come along, dear, let us find
the supper room. It's through here, my dear...
Thank you, Harriet.
- (MRS ELTON) Jane, are you all right?
- Yes...
(MUSIC STARTS)
Thank you, Mr Knightley,
for your kindness to Harriet just now.
I consider that man's behaviour
most odious and hurtful.
I fancy they both aimed at wounding
more than poor Harriet.
- Most probably.
- Emma, why have they become your enemies?
Confess that you did think he and Harriet
would have made a good match.
I did, most mistakenly as I now see,
and they cannot forgive me for it.
Well, I shall not scold you,
I shall leave you to your reflections.
Can you trust me to such flatterers?
Does my vain spirit ever tell me I am wrong?
Not your vain spirit, perhaps,
but your serious one.
If the first leads you wrong,
I'm sure the other tells you of it.
I must confess that I was most mistaken
in my judgement of Mr Elton.
There is a littleness in him
which you saw and I did not
and I fully convinced myself
of his being in love with Harriet.
I realise I was sadly wrong.
In return for your acknowledging so much,
let me say that you would have chosen for him
better than he has.
You really think so?
Harriet Smith has many excellent qualities,
which Mrs Elton is totally without.
- I am very glad to hear you say that.
- And let me admit my own mistake.
I underestimate her. She is an unpretending,
artless, sweet-tempered girl,
infinitely to be preferred by any man
of good sense to a woman like Mrs Elton.
She is a dear, sweet creature
and worth a hundred Mrs Eltons.
Emma! You should set
these young people an example.
Everyone's lazy tonight,
everyone's half-asleep! Gentlemen!
Poor Mr Weston. We really must bestir ourselves.
Well, to whom are you engaged for this one, hm?
To you, if you will ask me.
Will you?
We are not quite so much brother and sister
as to make it at all improper.
- Brother and sister? I should think not, indeed!
- (CHUCKLES)
Oh, goodness, what a morning!
I met Miss Bates in Ford's
and had her describing Jane's gown last night
for half an hour at least,
and another half an hour describing
what was to be had at the supper table. Oh!
Has anybody called?
Harriet, my love, are you feeling unwell?
No, Mrs Goddard.
But you haven't moved
since I came in and spoke to you just now.
You spoke to me? I'm sorry, Mrs Goddard.
Well, I was about to ask
if you and Betty Bickerton
would run across the common to Donwell with
this basket and thank Mr Knightley for the apples.
To Donwell, Mrs Goddard?
But if you're too tired after your exertions
last night, one of the other girls can go with her.
Oh, no, Mrs Goddard, I'm not tired, truly I'm not,
not the least little bit.
The fresh air will do me some good.
- This basket, is it?
- Yes, dear.
- Shall I give him your thanks?
- Of course.
Well, that is... if I happen to see him.
Oh, thank you, Mrs Goddard!
We shall not be long.
Oh, my bonnet... Oh! Betty, Betty!
(CHUCKLES)
There's quite a fresh wind, I fear.
The trees are moving somewhat.
- I don't know whether I'm wise.
- I'm quite sure you are, Papa.
There's a dark cloud.
I should have gone before, it was foolish of me.
Oh, it is nothing, Papa.
It is a beautiful May morning.
I did not ask you to accompany me
because you should get all the rest you can.
Late nights don't suit you.
Oh, nonsense, Papa, I am in the best of health,
and besides, I was not late.
Oh, you are so like your poor dear mother.
Never mind, my child, I will look after you.
Oh, hurry up!
- We should never have come this way.
- It's quicker.
- (SNAP)
- What's that?
- (TWIGS SNAPPING)
- Oh, it's only the gypsies. They won't see us.
Come on.
There, you see?
The sun has come out to greet you.
- Oh, come on.
- Are you sure it's safe?
- Of course it is.
- (SNAP AND RUSTLING)
(GASPS) Betty...
- Oh, Betty.
- Quick, run!
- Spare us a copper, miss?
- Go away.
- Spare a copper for the gypsies?
- Go away, I have no money. Leave me alone!
You've a lucky face, lady.
Read your palm, shall I?
- Go away!
- Shall I read your palm, eh? Tell your fortune?
- Shall I?
- Don't touch me. Leave me alone!
Go away, I have nothing to give you,
I have no money!
Take your filthy hands off me!
- (SHRIEKS)
- (CHILDREN LAUGH)
- Showin' her petticoat! Showin' her petticoat!
- Someone help me...
(MAN SHOUTS)
Run!
What's all this, then?
Miss Smith! What's happened?
What have those ruffians done to you?
Thank you, sir. Thank you.
(SIGHS)
(CHURCHILL) Can you manage? Nearly there.
There we are, then. There we are.
- Harriet, Mr Churchill, what has happened?
- May she sit down, please? She feels faint.
Please, bring her in here. But is she hurt?
Oh, not hurt, thank heaven,
merely frightened. There.
- Those confounded gypsies on the common.
- Oh, no!
It's all right. By the greatest good fortune,
I was passing by and drove them away.
- You saved her?
- Oh, it was nothing. They were only children.
They would scarcely have harmed her,
though she was in some distress
when I reached her.
- Well... now I must be going.
- Oh, Mr Churchill, will you not stay a while?
I cannot, I am already late,
but I leave her in good hands.
Goodbye, Miss Woodhouse, Miss Smith.
Oh, my poor dear Harriet,
are you sure you suffered no hurt?
No, Miss Woodhouse. He drove them off!
But your gown... look!
- That must have been when I fell.
- You fell?
Yes, but he pulled me up.
He helped me to my feet again.
But what were you doing
crossing the common alone?
Oh, I was not alone, Miss Woodhouse.
Betty was with me.
- Betty?
- Betty Bickerton, but she ran away.
Really, it was the greatest good fortune
that he was crossing the common at
that very moment, was it not, Miss Woodhouse?
Mr Churchill, I mean.
Indeed it was, Harriet.
Oh, Miss Woodhouse, I think Mr Churchill
is the bravest man I have ever known.
Well, then, sometime, when you feel you can,
you should go and thank him for his kindness.
Miss Woodhouse, do you think I might?
Would it be proper?
Oh, perfectly proper.
Indeed, I consider it to be your duty.
- Miss Woodhouse...
- No, you stay there until you are fully recovered.
I will bring my work in to join you.
Miss Woodhouse,
there is something I must tell you,
a confession I have to make.
A confession? About what, pray, Harriet?
It is my wish that I should have no secrets
from you, Miss Woodhouse, absolutely none.
Well, thank you, Harriet.
I fear I have been guilty in the past of...
a very foolish and ill-judged affection.
I think you know to whom I refer.
Yes, I think so, Harriet.
Oh, Miss Woodhouse,
how can I have behaved in such a manner?
The very thought of it now fills me with shame.
Why did you not chide me for my stupidity?
You are referring to Mr Elton, I imagine?
It seems now like madness.
I can see nothing at all extraordinary in him.
I do not care whether I meet him or not,
except of the two, I would rather not.
And I do not envy his wife in the least,
not the least little bit.
And I thought the bonnet she wore to church
last Sunday quite hideous.
Well, then, I consider your cure complete.
- There is just one more thing, Miss Woodhouse.
- Oh, and what is that?
(WHISPERS) Open it.
- It looks like a piece of old court-plaster.
- It is.
Oh, Miss Woodhouse, do you not remember?
- You must.
- Remember what, for goodness' sake?
It was here in this very room.
He was sharpening a pencil
and... and he cut his finger.
You recommended court-plaster but had none
with you, so I used some of my own.
Oh, yes, yes, now I DO remember.
Oh, my dearest Harriet, you make me
more ashamed of myself than I can bear.
But why, Miss Woodhouse?
Well, you see, Harriet,
I had plenty with me in my pocket,
but I thought to leave you alone
to perform this little healing act for him yourself.
Oh, my sins, I deserve to be under
a continual blush for the rest of my life.
No, Miss Woodhouse.
You see, I cut him a piece, but it was too large,
so he cut it smaller and stood playing with a piece
in his hand a little before dropping it aside.
So as soon as you and he had gone out
of the room, I found the piece upon the floor
and in my nonsense
I made a treasure of it.
I have worn it in my locket next to my...
to my person from that day to this.
Oh, my dearest Harriet, what can I say?
Miss Woodhouse, I am going to burn it. Now.
- Harriet, are you sure?
- Yes.
I wish you to see how rational I have become.
Very well, then, if you wish it.
There!
That is an end to Mr Elton.
I shall never marry.
Never marry?
Well, this is a new resolution, surely.
It is one that I shall never change, however.
Harriet, I hope this is not a form of...
of compliment to Mr Elton.
Mr Elton? Oh, no.
Good. I am glad.
He is far, far superior to Mr Elton.
Harriet, I will not pretend
to be in doubt as to your meaning.
Your resolution never to marry
is because the person in question
is too high above you in station, is that not so?
Miss Woodhouse...
I have not the presumption
to suppose he would ever even notice me.
Indeed, I am not so mad,
but it is a sufficient pleasure for me
to admire him from a distance
and to think of his infinite superiority
to all the rest of the world
with gratitude, wonder
and respect.
Dearest Harriet, I am not at all surprised.
The service he rendered you
was enough to warm your heart.
Miss Woodhouse, it is something
I shall never forget all my life.
When I saw him approach me,
and my wretchedness before,
in one moment, what a change
from perfect misery to perfect happiness.
It is quite right that you should feel for him
as you do, Harriet,
but I do advise you
not to give way to your feelings too much,
because I cannot by any means
assure you of their being returned.
I give you this caution now, Harriet, because
I do not wish to speak on the subject ever again.
- No, Miss Woodhouse.
- I am determined against all interference.
Henceforward,
I know nothing whatever of the matter.
- Let no name ever pass our lips.
- No, Miss Woodhouse.
We were very wrong before.
We will be doubly prudent now.
Yes, Miss Woodhouse.
(CHUCKLING) Oh, come in, come in!
It's only a shower.
Ooh! It will soon pass.
Please come up, everybody!
Jane dear, we are to have an unexpected party.
Did you see that, Mr Knightley?
All our friends caught in the rain while shopping.
- Come in, everyone! Miss Woodhouse...
- Oh, thank you, Miss Bates.
- Emma.
- Mr Knightley!
He just dropped in with some eggs.
- Ah, Miss Smith! Come in, do sit down.
- Thank you, Miss Bates. Very kind.
Ah, Mr Knightley.
Mr Weston, and how is your good wife?
Well, I hope?
Tolerably, thank you, but her walking days
are over - at least until after our happy arrival.
Oh, yes, yes, of course.
Please give her my good wishes.
- Mr Weston, I do hope you are not too wet.
- Oh, 'tis nothing, my dear.
It's a pleasure to walk with you, my dear,
rain or shine. Eh, son?
- Of course. Miss Woodhouse knows that well.
- I am sure I know nothing of the sort.
- Well, Frank, does it still rain?
- A little, I think.
Ah! I see poor Perry ride by
with his coat collar turned up.
So he's not set up his carriage yet?
Perry set up a carriage?
Whatever gave you that notion, boy?
- You said so in a letter.
- It is the first I've heard of it.
Oh, well, then, I must have dreamed it, no doubt.
- Did you know about this, Emma?
- Oh, no, Mr Weston,
but then I am always last
to receive the latest gossip.
- How could he have got hold of such a story?
- I told you, it clearly rests in my imagination.
Miss Bates, is there any truth in it?
Well, Mrs Perry did mention the possibility to my
mother some time ago, did she not, Jane dear?
Aunt, I'm afraid I don't remember.
Oh, yes, dear, Mama told us just when we got in
from our walk that morning. Did you not, Mother?
But the information was strictly confidential,
so of course I said nothing.
There, I'm told I do talk a little upon occasion,
is that not so, Miss Woodhouse?
But I'm sure when a thing is in strict confidence,
I... Why, what's the matter, Jane dear?
Bless my soul, to think that Frank in Yorkshire
should know more about Highbury than we do.
- It is surprising.
- Ah, it has stopped.
- We mustn't trespass on Miss Bates' time.
- Oh, indeed not.
Come along, Miss Smith,
let us lead the party back to Hartfield.
- Please, do not hurry away.
- Goodbye, Miss Bates.
- Thank you for providing shelter!
- Goodbye, Miss Fairfax.
There's a boy.
(W0MAN) No, no,
I know my way perfectly, thank you.
Mrs Elton.
Well, so it must all be off, I suppose.
Is that not the most provoking thing
you ever heard?
Is it, madam? I'm afraid I have no idea
what you're talking about.
- The excursion.
- What excursion?
The outing I planned to Box Hill.
We were to have gone in several carriages
and spent the day exploring,
as my sister and brother-in-law
do around Bristol.
I tell you, at this rate the season will have
worn quite away before we've done anything.
Well, by this time last year at Maple Grove,
we'd been on... oh, I don't know how many trips.
Yes, I... I was not aware of any outing to Box Hill.
Were you not?
The invitations have not yet gone out, I admit,
but I thought you would have heard of it
from Jane or somebody
and I assure you, Knightley,
that you were on my list, oh, yes!
Madam, thank you, I am most honoured.
We were to have met at the vicarage
for a cold collation.
Oh, it was all arranged,
and a York ham ordered, and so on.
And now the bishop has demanded
the presence of my caro sposo
on some tiresome business at the palace,
I know not what.
And I can't very well entertain
so many guests alone.
Well, can I?
No? I would have thought that
well within your compass, Mrs Elton.
But it would look so strange, a newly married wife
without the protection of her husband.
And I'd arranged that they should all come early
so they could explore the vicarage garden, too.
- It really is extremely vexatious.
- Mm.
Ah, well,
you had better come here instead
and explore Donwell before your excursion.
Knightley, what a truly splendid suggestion.
And if our excursion
could be limited to a select few,
that would solve my problem entirely.
Knightley, how clever you are.
Yes... You'd better pick my strawberries,
they're ripening fast.
That'll do admirably.
You and I shall arrange this together.
- One moment, Mrs Elton.
- Or you may leave it all to me.
I am no callow young lady in these matters.
A married woman has full authority, you know.
Leave it all to me, I will issue the invitations.
No, Mrs Elton. There is but one married woman
I would allow to issue invitations to Donwell.
- Oh? And who's that, pray?
- Mrs Knightley.
Mrs Knightley?
Since she does not yet exist,
I will manage the matter for myself, if you please.
Oh, you are an odd fellow, Knightley.
Humorous, that's what you are.
Well, I insist upon Jane and her aunt at least.
- No need to.
- The rest I leave to you.
And I've no objection to meeting the Woodhouses.
Do not scruple to invite them on my account.
I may say, I am very sensible
of your particular kindness in this whole matter.
You've gone out of your way
to give me the greatest pleasure.
I know that and shall not quickly forget it.
- Thank you, madam, but, er...
- I've just had the most engaging idea!
Would it not be excellent if Jane,
Miss Bates and I come riding upon donkeys?
Ah, yes. Now, would not that be delightful?
I will speak to my caro sposo about it.
She really is the most preposterous of women!
I know of no one who can rouse me to anger
so quickly or with such certainty.
I find her self-satisfaction
and her total lack of true comprehension
a constant source of private entertainment.
Yes, I have to admit,
I nourish a strange kind of delight in her.
Then that is something you and I do not share.
As, indeed, her attachment to Jane Fairfax. Hm?
Emma,
have you noticed another kind of attachment
between Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill?
Frank Churchill? Oh, no, never.
I thought I had observed something,
on his side at least.
- Jane Fairfax and Frank Churchill?
- Mm.
Mr Knightley, you amuse me excessively.
Oh, no, I think I can vouch for that,
as far as the gentleman is concerned, anyway.
I am in no position to answer for her.
Oh, no, you are quite mistaken.
I almost hope I am, for her sake.
- (CHATTER)
- May I have your attention?
Your attention one moment?
Ladies!
- Ladies, please!
- Shh.
Please... Thank you.
- If you'd all gather...
- It is your house, she has no right!
- I cannot look, I cannot endure it!
- Pick as many as you wish!
- YOUR strawberries.
- Excuse me, Emma.
...you'll find a small cold collation
upon the dining table. Thank you.
Mrs Cox, have you a basket?
That's right, down the path to the kitchen garden,
the boy will show you.
Mr Churchill, I w...
Where is Mr Churchill? Has he not arrived yet?
I asked him on no account to be late.
Er... no, not you, Jane dear,
I have something to tell you.
Besides, picking strawberries
is such a tedious, back-breaking task.
Miss Smith?
- Why have you not joined the others?
- There were no more baskets, Mrs Elton.
Well, pick into Miss Cox's, then.
You can't all have baskets.
- No.
- It's all right, Mrs Elton.
Harriet,
come and let me show you the arbour walk.
It is more pleasant and shady
than the kitchen garden.
Thank you, Mr Knightley.
Knightley's a strange fellow, is he not?
One cannot always make him out.
(CHATTER AND LAUGHTER)
Jane, my love, I have this very morning
received an answer to my letter.
- What letter is this, Mrs Elton?
- What letter indeed!
My dear, the position is yours.
Is that not delightful?
So your troubles are at an end at last.
Mrs Elton, I had no notion you had done this.
No, don't thank me, please,
it's no more than you deserve.
My dear, a most excellent family,
known personally to my sister,
so you will no doubt
actually be visiting Maple Grove.
Oh, I'm so delighted on your behalf.
Nothing could give me greater pleasure.
Mrs Elton, I did not ask you to submit my name.
I am sorry, but I really cannot accept it.
Nonsense, you have good qualifications. It's they
who should be glad to secure your services.
I put in the strongest of recommendations,
and no doubt coming as it were by way
of Maple Grove tipped the scales in your favour.
Well, that's settled. I suppose
I'd better go and see what they are all about.
If I did not continuously keep my eye on them,
they would do nothing of themse...
Susan, that's a strawberry root in your hand!
Miss Woodhouse, would you be so good enough
as to tell Mrs Elton I am gone home?
Certainly, if you wish. Shall I give a reason?
Say... I have a very severe headache.
Then are you wise to walk out
in the strong sunshine?
- Oh, yes, the movement will do me good.
- But alone?
Miss Woodhouse, we all know at times
what it is to be wearied in spirits.
Mine, I confess, are exhausted.
The greatest kindness you can show me
is to let me have my own way
and only say I am gone when it is necessary.
Will you all assemble in the dining-room, please,
in five minutes?
As soon as your baskets are full.
To the dining-room, if you please.
(SIGHS)
Mr Churchill. Mrs Elton will be greatly relieved
by your arrival, I am sure.
Oh, why? She knew I might well be detained
with Mrs Churchill. I informed her so quite clearly.
Unfortunately, Miss Fairfax
has had to return home. She is unwell.
I know, I passed her on the road.
(SIGHS) Oh, this heat, it's intolerable!
You would feel cooler
if you would sit down and remain still.
And this excursion to Box Hill! Madness!
We are not all going to Box Hill.
We shall be only a small party.
- Madness in such weather.
- Let me ring the bell for something cool to drink.
No, no, Miss Woodhouse,
you shall not wait on me.
I shall be better in a moment.
I'm in a poor humour this morning.
Yes, I had observed as much.
As soon as the opportunity arises,
I shall go abroad. I'm tired of doing nothing.
Yes, Miss Woodhouse,
you may look at me as you wish,
but I am sick of England
and would leave it tomorrow if I could.
Perhaps you are merely
tired of prosperity and indulgence.
Can you not invent a few hardships for yourself
and be content?
I, tired of prosperity and indulgence?
Oh, you are mistaken.
No, I am thwarted in everything material.
No, Miss Woodhouse, I do not at all
consider myself a fortunate person.
Will you all assemble in the dining-room, please?
To the dining-room, if you please!
Leave your baskets here until afterwards.
They'll be quite safe. Put them in the shade.
- I suppose we must obey the summons (!)
- Through here! Through the door, there...
I suppose so. I must confess,
I had had the private intention
of putting in the briefest of appearance
and leaving before the excursion,
but you have persuaded me otherwise.
Miss Woodhouse, you have cured my ill humour.
I, Mr Churchill? I have not said a word.
No. You do not have to.
(SIGHS)
Thank you, Mr Churchill, but I am perfectly
capable of managing on my own, you know.
Ah, but you see, I am not.
(SNORING)
(FLY BUZZES)
(HE RESUMES SNORING)
Ooh, Knightley, some horrid creature
crawling upon my neck.
- I'm sorry?
- Look. Surely there's something.
- Just here.
- Oh, yes.
In the absence of my caro sposo,
you may remove it if you wish.
Our companions are very dull and stupid
this afternoon.
- What shall we do to rouse them, eh?
- Shh, Mr Churchill.
Ladies and gentlemen,
I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse
to say that she desires to know immediately
what you are all thinking of.
- (OTHERS LAUGH)
- Really, Mr Churchill!
Well, come now, is nobody
going to rouse themselves a little?
Is Miss Woodhouse so sure
she would really like to know?
Well said, Knightley, hoorah! Well said indeed.
No, to be honest, I should not,
not by any means, thank you.
Really, such childishness.
I declare, I'd outgrown such antics
by the time I'd left the nursery.
I see I must attack them with more address.
Miss Woodhouse waives the right
of knowing what you are all thinking
and only requires something very entertaining
from each of you in a general way.
Her demand is either for one thing, very clever,
prose or verse, original or repeated,
or two things, only moderately clever,
or three things very dull indeed.
- She promises to laugh heartily at all of them.
- I will do my best, certainly.
Come now, ladies and gentlemen, who will begin?
Oh, dear.
- Miss Smith.
- No, Mr Weston, I couldn't possibly.
Well, come, somebody, please?
Three things very dull indeed, did you say?
Well... that will just do for me, will it not?
I'd be sure to say three very dull things
as soon as I open my mouth.
- Shall I not, Miss Woodhouse?
- Ah, yes.
But on this occasion, I fear you will be limited
to only three. That is the difficulty.
(MR WESTON LAUGHS)
Yes, to be sure.
I do see what she means.
I must try to hold my tongue in future.
(MR WESTON) I like your plan.
I'll do my best. How will a conundrum do, eh?
- Oh, it would rate low, sir, I'm afraid, very low.
- No, no, it shall not.
- Not from Mr Weston. Come, sir, let us hear it.
- Very well.
What two letters of the alphabet
express perfection?
It's not very clever,
but it's the best I can do for the moment.
Two letters that express perfection?
I am sure I do not know.
I'm quite sure you will never guess, so I'll tell you.
It's M and A. Emma!
- D'you see? D'you get it?
- (LAUGHTER)
Well, really.
Now we know
the kind of clever thing that is wanted.
Perfection should not have come quite so soon.
Mrs Elton, you are extremely quiet.
I am sure you have some witty thing to contribute.
Pray excuse me, Mr Churchill,
I'm not at all fond of this kind of thing, I'm afraid.
Forgive me, but I'm not one who has
witty things to say at everybody's service.
I really must be allowed to judge
when to hold my tongue. Pass me, please.
- Oh, very well.
- Besides, I've become a little tired of...
exploring so long upon one spot.
I think we should start our return.
Mr Knightley, if you'd be so kind?
- Allow me, Miss Woodhouse.
- Thank you.
- Miss Bates, let me give you a hand.
- Oh, how kind.
- There we are.
- Ooh, stiff.
Now, then, if you take this, I'll bring the rug.
Well, now, I do hope you've enjoyed your day,
Miss Bates?
Oh, yes, most enjoyable.
Mr Knightley.
You and I have scarcely spoke
the whole afternoon.
- Emma, how could you?
- What do you mean?
- Treat poor Miss Bates in so cruel a manner.
- Oh, Mr Knightley, I was only jesting.
Besides, I do not suppose
she fully appreciated my meaning.
I can assure you she did
and she was very much hurt by it.
Mr Knightley, she is a dear old creature
in many ways,
but really, you must admit that in her,
what is good and what is ridiculous
are very finely blended.
Oh, I admit it. Were her circumstances
the same as your own, I should say nothing of it.
But think how far this is from being so.
She is poor. She has sunk from those comforts
she was born to and will doubtless sink further.
She should excite your compassion,
not your ridicule.
You, whom she has known since a child,
to humble her before the whole company
in such a cruel manner.
- But, Mr Knightley...
- Emma, Emma.
That you of all people should allow flattery
to cloud your judgement so,
it distresses me beyond belief.
I've collected so many flowers and grasses.
Look, Miss Woodhouse.
Oh, Miss Woodhouse.
EMMA (1972–…): SEASON 1, EPISODE 6 EPISODE #1.6 - FULL TRANSCRIPT
Harriet has been rescued from an embarrassing situation and her susceptible
emotions have been stirred again. Emma has been reprimanded by Mr.
Knightley.
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.