Ummm...So, I'm not really all that knowledgeable about Emma, mostly because it isn't one of my favourite of Austen's works, but once I started writing this one-shot, I could only see this happening between Mr. Knightley and Emma after they have been married for a while.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emma, they belong to the fabulous Miss Jane Austen. I only own the minor characters-Mrs. Allen-and the plot of this tale. Any copyright infringement is unintentional.

I really hope this turned out well. O.O *wills her shaking hands to be still enough to hit the post button* Here goes nothing.

The Most Unobservant Man in All of England

by Knowing Grace

When Mrs. Emma Knightley née Woodhouse sighed for the thirty-sixth time, Mr. Knightley glanced at her from over the top of his newspaper.

"My dear Wife, whatever is the matter?" He asked.

She turned to face him, a rather pretty green ballgown clutched to her chest. "My dress does not fit."

A single eyebrow rose. "And this trivial thing is reason enough to make you sigh so? Well, that can be remedied quite easily, I should think; take it to Miss Milford and have her see if it can be altered."

Emma pouted, her full, bottom lip sticking out in just such a way that made Mr. Knightley wish for nothing more than to take his lady into his arms and kiss her soundly. However, he managed to restrain such a daring impulse...barely. "But I wished to wear it tonight to the ball, and if I send it off to be altered now, it will never be ready in time."

He returned his attention to his paper. "Then chose another. You will still be just as lovely to me no matter what you choose to wear."

Mr. Knightley, thus engrossed once more in his morning news, missed the effect his words had upon his young wife. If he had been looking her way, he would have seen a most becoming blush staining her cheeks. Her fine eyes gleamed with mischief, and she sashayed across the chamber, moving closer towards her husband. "I fear I cannot do that either, Sir. None of my gowns fit me at present."

"I cannot help you, Dear. As you have already stated, there is no time to make another or alter the ones you have stored within your expansive closet."

She trailed her fingers lightly over Mr. Knightley's arm. "What do you think should be done?"

"I would suggest consuming less food at dinner." He said, and turned the page of his gazette.

"For shame!" Emma exclaimed in shock, and the corners of her husband's mouth twitched upwards the slightest bit.

"It says here that Mr. Henry Latimer has lately been married to the lovely Miss—"

"Do not try to change the subject, George, you will not succeed."

"I fail to see what else there is to discuss. If none of your own clothing fits, you must simply borrow something from our nearest neighbour, Mrs. Allen."

"Mrs. Allen! You cannot be serious. Why, she is three times my size!"

"At the rate your waistline is increasing, I dare say you shall soon be able to swap gowns with the lady."

Slapping him playfully on the shoulder, Emma let out a huff. "Hateful man." She grumbled before trying another tact. "Maybe I should not go at all. I have been rather tired and ill of late; I may not be up to spending a night socializing with the inhabitants of Highbury."

He folded the paper, set aside his spectacles, and rose from his chair. "Of course. You must do whatever you feel is best." He said, passively—pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek before heading towards their bedroom door.

"Honestly, George! For professing to have such a brilliant mind, you really are the most unobservant man in all of England!" She cried, tossing the dress onto the bed and stomping her pretty, little foot in a fit of temper.

He turned and looked at her. "Clearly you are expecting me to guess whatever is in your thoughts at present, but I am ill suited to such a game. Unfortunately, our dear Lord did not bless me with the gift of reading minds. You will have to speak plainly and leave off dropping obscure hints my way if you wish for a more favourable response."

"Why must you be so difficult?" Tears filled her eyes, and he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her.

"Because it is part of my charm, and it is what you love most about me, Dearest." He whispered. Pulling back, he gently wiped the wetness from her cheeks, and cupped her chin in his hand. He smiled sweetly at her. "Now, come, dry your tears. All is not quite as lost as you may imagine. I had our housekeeper order several gowns to be made specifically to your new measurements and they have just arrived this morning. After all, I cannot have my wife unable to attend a ball or wear her most fashionable dress simply because she is expecting our first child."

Her eyes widened comically. "You already know?"

Chuckling, he tweaked the end of her nose. "Of course I do; I know you better than you know yourself, remember?" His eyes softened and he placed a hand on Emma's steadily expanding waist. "You will be a wonderful mother, Emma."

A flush once more coloured her fair features. "And you, a perfect father." She murmured.

"I pray that she has your liveliness."

Her lips curved upwards into a saucy smile. "And I pray that he has your wisdom."

The chiming of the clock brought their intimate moment to an abrupt end, and George cleared his throat—letting his hand slip away from his wife's belly. He offered her his arm which she took with all the dignity of a princess-she lifted the skirt of her nightdress just enough to prevent her from stepping on the hem.

"Shall we go down and see what the housekeeper has purchased for you?" He inquired.

"Yes, I believe I would like that very much."

As they stepped from the room and made their way towards the staircase, another thought appeared in Mrs. Knightley's mind and she paused mid-step. "George?"

"Mmmm?"

"How did you discover my new measurements? I have yet to have my maid take them."

A devilish grin nearly split his face. "Well, my Dear, it just so happens that you are a rather sound sleeper and I was able to procure the use of a very fine tape-measure..."

~ Finis