Mr. Knightley was always proud of his horses, but now he only wished he could have a pair of wings.

He went to Kingston yesterday morning to solve a territory dispute involving one of his tenants, and coming back home the very afternoon was his original plan. But an incident hindered him and he had to spend a night away which evoked all his anxiety now.

He only wedded a few months ago, and considering how lovely Emma was, what spirit she had brought to his quiet, stark mansion, how capable she was to run a big house easily and how popular she had become among the whole household staff, it's comprehensible for Mr. Knightley to be willing to spend every possible moment at home with its wonderful mistress.

What was Emma doing? Was she missing him badly now? Would she hug him ardently at the sight of him despite the presence of the servants? Sweet fancies shortened his long way home. When he finally dismounted at the grand front door, he could hear the bangs of his own heart.

But the unusual quietness puzzled, even frightened him. He was sure the whinny of his horse could be heard by the whole house, but now, not only didn't Emma show up with her bright smile and tender embrace to welcome him home, but also no servants came out to greet him. Only a footman by the door took his hat and overcoat.

"Where's Mrs. Knightley?"

"I don't know, Sir."

"Where's Mrs. Hodges then?"

"She was here minutes ago."

He left him alone and hurried to the staircase and ran into Mrs. Hodges on the second floor. "Where is Mrs. Knightley?"

"I don't know, Sir."

"Is she well?"

"Yes Sir."

"Is she out?"

"No, Sir." After making briefest answers, Mrs. Hodges curtsied and left.

Mrs. Hodges's manners were fairly odd, but Mr. Knightley had no mood to ponder why. All he was wondering now was where's Emma and why she didn't come out to him. He searched every room upstairs and downstairs, even the kitchen and servant chambers, no success. He rushed out to the garden then, and then the orchard, the strawberry bed, the riverside, the shrubbery… almost every inch of his territory and there's no sight of her at all.

And one more thing annoying him was nobody knew where she was and nobody spoke an additional word to him apart from answering his questions as briefly as they could. They were as respectful to him as usual, even more, but they were also extremely... cold.

The sky began to darken, dinner should have been served. Maybe she was already there? He hurried back to the house and relaxed greatly at the sight of her. She was sitting in her seat at the far end of the table, picking up her spoon quietly when he appeared at the door, looking well, calm, composed, seeming perfectly normal but, he knew, actually not.

"Emma," Disregarding the servants around, he approached and sat right next to her, "are you well?"

"Yes, very well. The dinner has been ready for a while, it's getting cold." Without looking at him, she began to eat.

Glancing at the servants, he got back to his own seat and picked up the fork, but had no appetite to eat anything at all.

Emma ate nothing either. Barely finishing the soup she stood up, asked for a pardon and then left the dining room quickly.

He jumped to his feet to follow her, and only stopped her right outside her bedchamber. "What's the matter, Emma? You're angry at me I can tell. Is it because I didn't come home last night? But I have sent you a note and this wasn't the first time ever happened?"

"No, I'm not angry. I'm very well aware of your busyness. I'm only tired, please excuse me." She curtsied and dodged into her room promptly, locking the door before he could react.

"Emma, Emma!" He tried for a few more minutes but all was in vain. At last he staggered back to his own room, despondently. He had been exhausted after a long distance ride and more than an hour's scanning his own estate, but it's nothing comparing with Emma's coldness towards him. He had been expecting her warm embrace and kisses all the past two days.

Finally he decided to take a bath first to clear his mind. He didn't overlook the fact that all his men were unfriendly to him either. But until Riley helped him put on his nightgown, he didn't figure out what sin he had committed except a night out which Emma might care, but what the hell did it matter to the others. Even Riley, a talkative, lively young boy, always bothering him with household gossips, kept in silence now.

When everything was tidied up, Riley turned to the door with his laundry, not even bidding his master good night.

"Riley!"

"Yes Sir."

"What? I left home only one day and you all rebelled?"

"We didn't, Sir."

"Then what is it? What happened when I was away?"

Riley looked down at his shoes rubbing the carpet, hesitating.

"Are you dumb? Speak!"

Collecting his courage, Riley finally looked up at his master directly, "Sir, do you know what yesterday meant to you?"

Yesterday? Not the anniversary, it's still months ahead. Not Emma's birthday, it should be next next week. Not any public holiday. So It was ... "My birthday?"

"Now you know."

"But what does it matter even if I forgot my own birthday? Why are you all..."

"What does it matter, Sir? Do you know right after you left the house, Mrs. Knightley gathered all of us to do a thorough cleaning and decorating, making the whole dull house brand new and bright. She asked the cooks to prepare every food you particularly favour, and designed your cake herself. I never saw any cake that special and beautiful in my life. She supervised and checked everything herself to make sure all were perfect. She even picked up the apples one by one only to assure your pie was the best ever. The whole house was in a cheerful air, we didn't remember had we ever experienced any moment like that, not even the Christmas Eve. And Mrs. Knightley spent all the rest time to dress herself up. I never saw she was that elegant and brilliant, maybe only at your wedding. And when the sky darkened, she went to the window every five minutes to see if you had come back. And what? After all these, all she got was a scrap of paper. Sir, had you ever seen her countenance when unfolding your note..." Riley's chest heaved, as if he was fighting his indignation back, "She didn't cry on the spot only because we were there I believe. You, Sir, are really..."

"A jerk."

"I didn't say that."

"You don't need to." With no more delay he rushed to the next door. He knew what he had written on that note, nothing but a notice that he would not come back, without a single word to explain why. What a night would Emma have, on his birthday too? Good heavens!

"Emma," he leaned against the door and knocked at it softly, "Emma I know why you're angry at me now. It's all my fault, I was wrong. I'll not ask you to forgive me, what I've done is unpardonable. But I don't want you to be upset because of me. Could you please open the door and let me make amends to you, Emma? Please."

There's no response, but he knew she was awake, crying probably. "Emma, I know everything you have done for me, I'm terribly sorry for having disappointed you. And I'm sorry too for having missed such a birthday. It's been years nobody remembered it. And you're the only one except my mother who would prepare it for me. And how stupid I was to even forget the date myself."

Still nothing, he pondered for a second and tried again, "Emma, I was so anxious to see you this morning so I skipped the breakfast. And I ate nothing just now because you didn't eat anything either. I'm starving now. And I broke my arm on the way home, it still hurts badly. Could you open the door and have a look at it?"

He smiled when a slight click came from the doorknob. He squeezed in without waiting for the door fully open and wrapped his arms around Emma immediately, "I'm terribly sorry, Emma. How abominable I am to upset my sweetest wife."

Emma struggled in vain and then let it be, but didn't respond to him.

"Emma, I was wrong. I shouldn't forget my birthday."

"It's nothing wrong for you to forget your own birthday." Said Emma obstinately.

"Yes, I know. But I shouldn't forget that you will remember my birthday and will give me a surprise. I know how much you love me, my Emma, just as much as I love you."

"It's only a dispute. You said it won't take you long." Emma finally looked up at him, eyes tearing again.

"Yes, it's solved quickly."

"Then why didn't you come back?"

His hesitation irritated her again. She began to struggle to free herself.

"Emma, I'm telling you. Don't leave me. Yesterday when I finished my business, Larkins went to Kingston to meet me."

"Larkins?"

"Yes, you didn't see him for some days, did you? I sent him to the Box Hill."

"Box Hill? Why?"

"I recommended Box Hill to you last year because it's really a nice place, and I always feel sorry that we were not enjoying it last time. No, don't mention it again, Emma. I sent Larkins there only to make it a sweet memory to us, not bitterness and jealousy."

Emma was amused by his self-mockery, "Then what is he doing there?"

"I bought a cottage on the top of Box Hill last month. Larkins is there to decorate and furnish it to make it comfortable for you. We can live there on your birthday, only you and me, watching sunset and sunrise from the top of Box Hill, and the stars too at night. But yesterday Larkins told me he couldn't solve the problem of water source. Delivering water from the foot of the hill will be too inconvenient. And as your birthday is only a few days away, I was too worried to be thoughtful and went with him right away."

"So you said nothing on your note because you were trying to surprise me?"

"Yes, but it shouldn't be the excuse. I could come back yesterday and go there today. On no account should I disappoint you."

"You shouldn't."

"I'll ask Mrs. Hodges to do all what you have done again. We can celebrate my birthday tomorrow."

"They have all been working very hard yesterday, I don't want to trouble them again only for your whim."

"Alright, let's only ask the kitchen to cook some my favorite dishes. And will you design a new cake for me? The perfect one you did yesterday must have been eaten up by them."

"You are not asking for the moon."

"Then, will you dress up one more time for me as well?"

"No, you do not deserve it."

"Well then, actually..." He lowered his voice abruptly and came close to her ear, though there was nobody else around, "actually I never believe that any dress could surpass your natural beauty, Emma."

A sharp pinched pain from his waist made him wince, but he could not help smiling to himself, as he knew he had retrieved his privilege of sleeping in the same bed with his dearest Emma.