Title: Lessons Learned

Rating: K+

Summary: What if the events at the Box Hill strawberry party had been slightly different?

Emma was in a state of silent astonishment.

Miss Bates had just now humbly asked the assembly if she were not likely to say three things - in quick succession, no less - that were very dull indeed.

In response, she saw Mrs. Elton exchange a smirking grin with her husband, who twisted his thin lips and shrugged as if to say, "Indeed she is dull, but what better can be expected from such a simpleton?"

Emma almost gasped at this display, but quickly thought better of it, hoping frantically that no one else had witnessed the audacious exhibition.

Her hopes were dashed when a glance at her erstwhile governess confirmed that she had seen it too. Mrs. Weston looked pale, and her eyes were wide. Her dear former Miss Taylor was too much of a lady to criticize the behaviour of any one, but cruelty was as abhorrent to her sweet nature as it was alien to it, and she could not totally mask her distress at this blatant display of it.

For any one to behave so in front of a whole party! For the first time, Emma found herself censorious of the conduct of Frank Churchill. The game of telling Miss Woodhouse things entertaining, moderately clever or dull, which he had suggested, was undoubtedly conducive towards fostering high spirits, but carried a risk of exposing those less witty to ridicule by their more polished peers.

Granted Mr. Churchill had not grown up in Highbury and was not yet fully attuned to the essences and tones of personality that coloured any gathering of its longstanding acquaintances – but should not such ignorance have encouraged more restraint on his part?

Emma could only imagine what the Eltons would have said about kind Miss Bates had they been alone. Her mortification was surpassed only by her surprise that they had managed to confine their insolence to an unpleasant look. Their lack of decorum, and their rudeness to a fellow guest, brought a flush of shame to her cheeks.

Emma's only consolation came quickly as she realized that Miss Bates was still looking affably round as if awaiting confirmation of her self-deprecating statement.

She had evidently not witnessed the silent insult – though she would have been too good-natured to ascribe any resentment to the Eltons if she had.

Had some one asked her before today, Emma would have easily assented that money and position were no precursor to manners, grace or kindness. But until now, with the exception of Mrs. Weston's excellent demeanour, she had never seen this truth displayed through the behaviour of any one she knew – or, she realised with a sinking sadness, by herself.

What good were pleasing looks if they wrought only vanity, or breeding if it bred only smug condescension toward those who were considered inferior by an accident of birth, or a descent into poverty that was no fault of their own?

And she had wanted Mr. Elton to be Harriet's husband! Good-natured, kind Harriet. The memory brought a fresh wave of shame to her whole being that was as unfamiliar as it was painful. Her eyes stung, and she found she could not look at Mr. Knightley, who was sitting close to her.

Gathering herself with considerable effort, Emma drew a deep breath and addressed her old friend while reaching across the grass to take her hand.

"Dear Miss Bates," she said, "If you had nothing interesting to say, the fault would be ours…for you talk so often and so kindly of us who are lucky enough to call ourselves your friends."

Miss Bates looked down shyly, and her face flushed with pleasure. Mrs. Weston sat back with a relieved smile, all her love for her former charge shining from her eyes. As her gaze passed Mr Knightley - she still found it too great a strain on her nerves to look at him directly, or overlong- Emma noted that he was leaning on one elbow and examining the sun-dappled branches above them, his mien utterly undisturbed. As always, his manners were as polished and understated as his attire, and she saw no sign that he had either seen the Elton's low conduct or heard her words to Miss Bates.

Emma felt strangely bereft, and attributed this circumstance to a residual stress from the embarrassing situation that had so nearly been avoided. Surely it had nothing to do with Mr. Knightley's lack of approval for her conduct, though she valued this most highly. And though he respected her, he praised her so rarely that she was in no way used to his approbation.

Emma's strange melancholy did not lift after that, but the relief she felt at uttering her simple but heartfelt words was immeasurable. Miss Bates, happy in the company of her trusted friends, was her usual effusive, gregarious self. Though Emma looked at the Eltons as little as possible for the rest of the afternoon, they did not appear to be sneering any more at Miss Bates. Emma did not in the least attribute this to any kindness on their part. They had more likely settled, through a mutual mindset that Emma now realised made them very well suited indeed, on another topic, or person, for their contempt.

Never had she been so eager to leave a party, never had she been more grateful for a quiet carriage ride (for Harriet was strangely silent), and never had she been more relieved to return home.

***

That night, a small, beribboned basket arrived at Hartfield, brimming with the apparent pick of the crop someone had gathered at the strawberry party. Emma received them with calm pleasure, thinking they might have come from Mr. Churchill, but the emotion the accompanying note wrung from her made her glad she was alone in the room.

My Dear Emma:

I hope you are coming to realize that the public actions and expressions of individuals, base or kind, are not likely to go unnoticed by others, whether in a small assembly or a large crowd.

I urge you to avoid undue influence from those who might settle for any less than what is best in your character, and trust you will continue to evince the sort of judgment you showed today. You were not the only one who was proud to count a friend among today's gathering.

Truly yours,

G. Knightley

This was a note – and a lesson – Emma always kept thereafter. She considered both equally valuable gifts, and upon receiving and learning them, her world, like the little model she had made Mrs Weston as a wedding present, tilted a little bit on its axis, never to be quite the same again.