Tokens of Affection

by Rusakko

Summary:

Emma has learned from her past mistakes, but sometimes she still can't resist meddling.

Notes:

• For vanishresponse.

Dear vanishresponse, thank you so much for participating in Fandom Trumps Hate! I had a lot of fun working with your prompts – I hope you find the result entertaining.

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Huge thanks to Caranya for a thorough and helpful beta reading. All remaining mistakes are my own.

Marriage is generally acknowledged to be the greatest change in circumstances which a young woman, in the usual course of things, is likely to face. In removing from her father’s house to her husband’s, she must exchange her former carefree existence for all manner of domestic concerns, which cannot but require a notable adjustment of habits and ideas. If, moreover, her husband happens to reside at some distance from her childhood home, she must also learn to contend with a new circle of acquaintance.

The former Miss Emma Woodhouse may, indeed, be thought rather singular in this regard, for in becoming Mrs Knightley, she underwent very few of the outward changes which ordinarily accompany a marriage. She was obliged to part with neither her home, her father nor her neighbours, and the addition of Mr Knightley and the handful of servants he brought with him caused no great upheaval in the domestic routines of Hartfield. An outside observer might, in fact, scarcely have noted any alteration in Mrs Knightley’s situation beyond the change of name.

Even Mrs Knightley herself, despite experiencing first-hand all the new discoveries, great and small, which marriage inevitably brings, would have been obliged to admit that some things about her life remained very much unchanged.

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“—and Selina knows that I simply adore kittens – they are quite my Aristotle’s heel, you know – so she would send me one from the litter. I could not have resisted, of course, even if it had been the ugliest thing in the world – Mr E. always laughs at my tender-heartedness when animals are concerned – but she is a beauty, is she not? Mrs Cole was in raptures over her, and Mrs Perry declared that she had never seen such silky fur.”

For once, Emma could sincerely agree with Mrs Elton. The little white ball of fluff, currently engaged in a fierce battle with a length of ribbon, was indeed a very sweet creature.

“And she has an excellent pedigree,” Mrs Elton continued. “Selina’s cats were purchased from a man who exclusively breeds Angoras. I believe Mr Suckling paid a full two pounds for them! But then he is always buying her gifts. I am sure I never saw such a doting husband – my own dear Mr E. excepted, of course.” She shot a rather self-satisfied look at Emma.

Emma merely smiled. She would not for the world have wished herself the recipient of Mr Elton’s doting, but if his attentions pleased Mrs Elton, so much the better for everybody.

“Well,” Mrs Elton went on, returning to her original subject, “I am entirely delighted with my darling Bianca – a clever name, is it not? I have such a fondness for the Italian language. Selina always says that a lady must know Italian if she is to be considered truly refined. And” – she glanced over at the kitten with a proprietary air – “one could hardly name an Angora cat ‘Tiddles’ or ‘Taffy’.”

Emma gravely agreed that such a name might appear incongruous.

The visit ended with almost amiable sensations on both sides. Mrs Elton felt that Mrs Knightley had been rather more agreeable than usual – she had even freely owned to never having seen a purebred Angora cat before. This, in Mrs Elton’s mind, was no small triumph. Emma, meanwhile, looked forward with great anticipation to telling Mr Knightley all about Mrs Elton’s “Aristotle’s heel”.

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“—so I told Mr E. that we must look about for a girl to take Sarah’s place, for I do not mean to keep her past Midsummer. She claims that she did not let Bianca out, of course, but how else could it have happened? So terribly careless! I declare that these Highbury servants are quite impossible – I am sure Selina never had half as much trouble with hers. My dear Mrs Knightley, you cannot imagine what agonies I have been in! My poor little darling – I was afraid that I should never see her again.”

“You must have been exceedingly relieved when she returned,” said Emma. Privately, she resolved to make some inquiries about a new place for Sarah, though she could not imagine that the girl should be overly unhappy about leaving her present situation.

“Oh! It is a miracle that she survived the ordeal! Nearly a fortnight out in the wild – and dear Bianca such a gentle creature. I tremble to think what might have happened to her.”

“We may be glad, for Bianca’s sake, that Highbury is such a safe village.”

“Safe! For a person, perhaps, but I should not call it so for Bianca. There are wild animals, you know – foxes and the like – and boys can be so very cruel. There are all manner of shiftless-looking young fellows loitering about outside the Crown in the evenings, and one never knows what sort of wickedness they may think of. Mr Suckling used to tell us such horrid stories of what certain boys in Bristol got up to in his youth! I can scarcely credit it myself, for I am so excessively fond of animals that I could not hurt a fly, but certain sorts of people do the most horrid things for sport.”

“I am all the more pleased, then, that Bianca is well after her adventure,” replied Emma coolly, irritated by this slander of Highbury’s citizens but knowing that it would not be worth her while to argue.

“Oh, yes – I suppose one may say that she is, all things considered – though she was dreadfully thin and dirty when she came home. I had quite a time of it, trying to get all the burs out from her coat. Really, the sight of her put me in mind of the time Caroline Milman wore white when riding to the meet and got her skirt caught in a bramble bush. Selina and I took her up in our carriage and did our best to put her to rights, for she was hardly fit to be seen. I expect, Mrs Knightley, that you have never had the opportunity to follow the hunt? Mr Suckling, you know, keeps a very fine pack of hounds…”

Emma, glancing surreptitiously at her watch, began calculating when she might take her leave.

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“—but I am sure that that nasty, one-eared tomcat of young John Abdy’s is at fault. It is always prowling about the garden, looking to make mischief, and most of the kittens take after it in appearance.” Mrs Elton sniffed censoriously. “Well, I suppose we must be glad that two of them have their mother’s coat. Mrs Cole is to have one – she is quite beyond herself with delight! – and I mean to send the other to dear Jane. The rest shall have to be drowned, I suppose, for I am sure nobody can have any use for them, so common-looking as they are. I confess I have been putting it off, for I have quite a horror of such things, but we really must have one of our men take care of it soon.”

Emma followed Mrs Elton’s disapproving gaze to the corner of the room, where the disgraced Bianca was keeping diligent watch over her frolicking litter. Two of the kittens were as snow-white as their mother, while the colouring of the remaining four strongly implied that their father must have been a yellow tabby.

It would perhaps be wisest to forbear from too close examination of the impulse which overtook Emma at this moment. It certainly stemmed, to some degree, from compassion for the helpless little creatures; but it is to be feared that certain less noble sentiments, chiefly directed towards Mrs Elton, also played a part.

Whatever its source, this impulse compelled her to say, before she could think better of it, “Oh! Certainly, there will be no need to drown the kittens. There is always somebody in need of a good mouser, I am sure – and if you think it too much trouble, I should be glad to assist you with disposing of them.”

Mrs Elton was now put in something of a quandary. She did very much wish to be rid of the kittens, which served as a constant, mortifying reminder of Bianca’s lowly taste in suitors; and if it could be accomplished without the unpleasantness of drowning them, so much the better. Yet every feeling revolted against allowing Mrs Knightley to think her incapable of managing the matter herself.

A brief, exceedingly civil debate followed. Mrs Elton could not possibly impose upon Mrs Knightley’s time – Mrs Knightley was certain it should be no trouble at all – Mrs Elton suddenly recalled that Mrs Cox was exceedingly fond of kittens – Mrs Knightley was confident that she could discover several people very much in want of a cat.

The conclusion of the business was that Emma left the Vicarage with three kittens in a basket on her arm and an unpleasant suspicion that she had let herself be goaded into foolishness.

“You must not laugh at me,” she warned Mr Knightley that evening, after the kittens had been settled in the kitchen under Serle’s watchful eye, “for you do not know what provocation I had. After all the raptures I have endured on the subject of her fondness for animals—! It would have been too much for anybody to bear.”

Mr Knightley made an admirable effort to look grave. His voice, however, betrayed his amusement as he replied, “It would be unfeeling of me to mock your charity, dearest Emma. You have spared three little lives from a cruel fate. But I own that I should very much like to know what you mean to do about them.”

“I must find them homes, of course. I can do nothing less now, after everything I said to Mrs Elton. And no doubt she will try to find fault with whatever arrangements I make, so they must be quite perfect.”

If any reflections on the number of unwanted kittens born each year in Highbury happened to cross Mr Knightley’s mind, he wisely forbore from voicing them. Instead, upon returning from Donwell the next day, he informed his wife that William Larkins had recently discovered a rat in his larder and would be very pleased to take charge of one of Bianca’s offspring. Mr Knightley was very agreeably rewarded for his trouble, and a kitten was promptly dispatched to William Larkins’s cottage.

The second kitten proved a little more troublesome to place, but at length, an excellent home was found for her at Mrs Goddard’s school, where she might look forward to tidbits and caresses from a flock of eager young admirers. If any danger threatened the kitten in her new situation, it was that of having her dignity injured by an excess of ribbons and affectionate sobriquets.

The business of finding a home for the last of her three charges, however, had Emma close to despairing. As the smallest and weakest of the litter, his potential as a mouser must be deemed dubious, and being more timid and less playful than his brothers and sisters, he appeared no better suited for amusing children. In addition to these disadvantages, he was possessed of a pair of incongruously large ears and a tongue prone to poking out of his mouth, a combination which gave his countenance an expression of permanent surprise (or, as Mr Knightley ruthlessly opined, “remarkable foolishness”).

Nor were any of the Knightleys’ friends or relations presently in need of a cat. The drawing-room at Randalls was ruled by a handsome grey animal, which, unlike its master and mistress, disliked strangers both feline and human. John Knightley could not abide cats, and in any case, a house full of children seemed rather too daunting a prospect for Emma’s little charge. The Bateses, in their small lodgings, were crowded enough already, and Emma did not mean to give them a gift which might turn out to be an inconvenience. And while Mrs Robert Martin’s soft heart might well have been conquered by the unfortunate creature, the notion of offering her Mrs Elton’s leavings was impossible to entertain.

Who can be in doubt of what followed? The kitten became settled at Hartfield, and there he remained. At first, his removal was delayed merely for lack of options; but the more accustomed Emma grew to his presence in the house, the less she liked the notion of not being in charge of his care. She did not see how anybody else could be relied upon to look after him properly. What if she entrusted him to some stranger, only to discover that he had been confined to a draughty barn or filthy shed? What if his new owners treated him carelessly – even cruelly? A kitten, after all, could easily be replaced if he should happen to run off or meet with an accident.

It should, indeed, have been difficult to imagine a more eligible situation for the kitten. Assured of a warm place by the fire regardless of the season, first pick of the kitchen scraps and, over time, freedom of the house, he could be justly deemed to exist in tolerable comfort. Even Mrs Elton would have been hard-pressed to find room for improvement. Maple Grove, perhaps, might have offered a cat even greater luxury – but as the residents of that house had expressed no interest in taking in any of Bianca’s offspring, Mrs Elton remained quite reticent on the subject.

The only threat to the kitten’s permanent residency at Hartfield was Mr Woodhouse, who was at first quite horrified by the very notion. Animals were, to his mind, bringers of dirt and disease, and he earnestly urged Emma to think better of allowing one to live in the house.

“Oh! Papa, you forget that cats are not at all like other animals in such matters. A dog, certainly, ought never to be allowed indoors; but cats are a different matter entirely. Why, they spend all day cleaning themselves! Only look at Taffy – he is washing his little paws as we speak!”

Mr Woodhouse peered at the kitten dubiously but was eventually brought to admit that Taffy did not appear at all dirty.

“And only consider how very useful he shall be to us! You shall never have to worry about vermin in the house again, and I dare say James will be very pleased to have Taffy visit the stables every now and then – you know that he is always complaining of the mice in the hayloft.”

Mr Woodhouse, glancing a trifle anxiously about the corners of the room, allowed that vermin in the house would be a dreadful thing indeed.

In such a style the conversation went on until Mr Woodhouse, through his daughter’s coaxing and cajoling, was at last persuaded of the absolute necessity of having a cat in the house.

Mr Knightley held his tongue until Mr Woodhouse had gone up to bed. Then, however, he directed a rather satirical look at his wife.

“Let us hope that Taffy shall not be crushed under the weight of expectation.”

Emma coloured a little under his scrutiny but retorted nevertheless: “And why should he not grow into a mouser? May he not learn to catch vermin just as well as any other cat?”

Mr Knightley, eyeing the kitten, looked more than slightly sceptical – perhaps because Taffy, having completed his ablutions, was presently waging an enthusiastic but unsuccessful war against his own tail.

But for all that Mr Knightley might shake his head and express grave doubts about Taffy’s potential as a mouser, he scooped the kitten up quite gently once it was time to return him to his bed in the kitchen – and some days later, Emma found her husband reading the newspaper with Taffy contentedly purring on his knee.

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“Your loyal admirer,” said Mr Knightley from the bed-room door, “has left you yet another token of affection.”

Emma, turning from her dressing table, shuddered a little at the sight of the headless mouse which her husband (prudently utilising his handkerchief) was holding up for display.

Taffy, in defiance of all Mr Knightley’s predictions, had indeed grown into a prodigious mouser; but Emma’s pleasure in having been proven right was a little dampened by his unfortunate insistence on gifting her his hunting trophies.

“I believe,” she replied as Mr Knightley crossed to the window, “that it is an even greater sign of affection to dispose of them on my behalf.”

“I had rather not be woken up as we were last week,” said Mr Knightley drily, raising the sash and throwing out the remains of the mouse with practised efficiency. (The previous Sunday, the youngest of the housemaids had chanced to step on one of Taffy’s victims in the dim morning light, and her cry of alarm had roused the entire household.)

“But if you should like further proof of my sentiments,” Mr Knightley went on, stepping smilingly towards his wife, “I should gladly provide a more pleasant demonstration.”

Emma, laughing, tilted her face up to meet him halfway.