AN; Someone mentioned a writing challenge about Mr. Woodhouse dying. Here is my contribution.

The three hours were a blur; he could not remember seeing his usual landmarks and was not quite sure how he had arrived at the Abbey stable. He dismounted and handed Bessie off to the stable boy, not without forgetting to give special instructions for a proper treat to be added to the horse's water and hay. The boy smiled and acknowledged but then his countenance went suddenly sullen. The disarrangement of his features was so profound even Mr. Knightley, a man wholly focused on his mission, could not ignore without comment.

"Peter, what troubles you?"

"I am sorry for your loss, sir." The boy went red, unaccustomed, as he was, to speaking in such a grown up way.

"My loss?" Mr. Knightley, confused by his choice of words, thought it very strange to be calling the news of Frank Churchill's secret engagement with Jane Fairfax a loss, and so particularly his loss.

"Of course we expected you today…but not quite this early…was it a pony that brought you the news?"

"A pony?"

"Yes sir, I know they travel at night sometimes with missives…well for important people…such as yourself sir." The boy was looking very uncomfortable.

"What news is this?!"

"Why the death of Mr. Woodhouse…of course sir."

In a faraway voice Mr. Knightley repeated the phrase, "The death of Mr. Woodhouse."

The boy stared at him warily, remembering that his mother had told him that grief can make people go mad.

Knightley laid his hand upon Bessie, shaking himself from his former energy, the exertion he had in riding through the rainstorm this morning with the wish only to help make things right for Emma and to console her over the abominable actions of Mr. Churchill, had momentarily drained him, his face went white.

"Papa!" the boy yelled and ran into the stable. "Mr. Knightley is not well." But by the time little Peter had drawn his father away from the iron fire Mr. Knightley had remounted Bessie and was off in the direction of Hartfield.

Perry's horse was already there when he dismounted, and then he recognized Mr. Weston's footman. He saw Perry first in the hall.

Dr. Perry was a tall man, usually erect, so straight was his figure that it was his definable feature and many a family waited to see his silhouette on the landscape, hoping against hope that he could make things right, but today he was stooped, his shirtsleeves undone.

"Ahh George…so good of you to come so quickly, he put his hand upon Knightley's shoulder. A great friend you were to him…" The two men looked at each other with a quiet understanding passing between them about Mr. Woodhouse.

Mr. Knightley swallowed hard, not quite believing the situation to be real but knowing that one must say the right things.

"And you sir…a very steadfast and patient friend, indeed." This elicited a small smile from the worn looking country doctor.

"Emma is with Mrs. Weston inside…" he shook his head, "…this will not be easy…they were everything to each other…a little island, here." Perry motioned to their surroundings at Hartfield and Knightley was moved and impressed by how much the Doctor understood the situation.

Perry was making to leave and a pounding had started in Knightley's heart, he walked through the doorway into their room, a room the three had spent so many a happy and quiet evening in…talking and laughing, reminiscing…

She was alone, legs stretched out, reclined upon the sofa and hand drawn to mouth. He could see that she had been crying.

"Emma" He waited at the door, unsure if perhaps it wasn't time yet.

"Mr. Knightley" she made to get up but he crossed the room quickly and motioned for her to remain seated. He took up the seat on the sofa next to her.

"Dear Emma…I am so sorry." She shook her head yes both accepting and acknowledging his words.

She swayed a bit on her seat, "Mr. Knightley", she looked away from him when she spoke and her voice sounded not fully her own, "I feel so strange…it's as though I am here but I am not here."

Knightley turned to her, worried by her sound and without thinking, he stretched out his arms, she slowly gravitated towards him…putting her head on his shoulder and quietly weeping. Mrs. Weston came in with a tray, she motioned to the glass of water with her eyes and Mr. Knightley knew Perry must have instructed her to give Emma some sort of a sleeping draught. He slowly pulled Emma up from his shoulder.

"Dear Emma you must take some water…"

He looked deep into her eyes, she did not understand him. He took the glass from the tray and held it to her lips.

"Please drink this Emma…you have had a shock and you must sleep for a little while." His voice faltered on the last few words but he held her tight and with his body he willed her to obey. She took the glass slowly and drank… took it from her and within minutes Emma was sleeping, cradled in Mr. Knightley's arms.