Alexander Smith - Emma - A Modern Retelling

It seemed as if he could sense what was happening within her, for he said nothing, as if awed by a moment that would only be defiled if he were to speak. But he embraced her with tenderness, and simply held her for a while before they drew apart and looked at each other as if they were two people who had just witnessed something miraculous. He then said, ‘I do wish you’d come to Donwell and redecorate it.’

She thought for a moment that this was an odd thing to say at a time like this, but then it seemed right to her; it seemed just perfect. It was the best thing he could possibly have said. And she replied. ‘Yes, I will.’

‘And we could go to Italy too. Would you come with me to Florence?’

That was an offer of the world; to which she replied, ‘Of course.’

Mr Woodhouse saw a great deal more of Mrs Goddard, and they too went abroad for a while, in their case to Vero Beach, Florida, where Mrs Goddard had a small apartment. Philip Elton married Hazel, and Hazel sang ‘Non, je ne regrette rien’ at the wedding. ‘Just as well she has no regrets,’ observed Emma to Mr Woodhouse at the ceremony. He whispered, ‘Let us not be without charity, dear girl.’ And she lowered her eyes at the gentle reproach, for she had learned her lesson, even if there would be occasional, but only very occasional, relapses; for none of us is perfect, except, of course, the ones we love, the things of home, our much appreciated dogs and cats, our favourites of one sort or another.

Jane Fairfax and Frank Churchill eventually married in Western Australia. There was a house on the wine estate that had been prepared for their use. Jane gave piano lessons to the children of other farmers and in due course had twin boys. Nobody ever worked out who gave her the Yamaha piano, but there were theories. One of these, put forward by Mr Woodhouse, was that the piano was bought by Miss Bates, who was only pretending to be poor in order to defeat her creditors at Lloyd’s. According to this school of thought, she had squirrelled away most of her funds and was easily in a position to buy violet creams for herself and a piano for her niece. ‘That woman never fooled me,’ said Mrs God, who claimed to be a good judge of character.

Emma was happy. She realised that happiness is something that springs from the generous treatment of others, and that until one makes that connection, happiness may prove elusive. In Italy with George, that thought came even more forcefully to her when, in a small art gallery in an obscure provincial town well off the beaten track, she saw a seventeenth-century picture of a young man giving his hand to a young woman. And the young woman takes it and holds it, cherishing it, as one might cherish something that is fragile and vulnerable, and very precious. The eyes of the woman are not on the young man, nor upon the hand that she holds, but fixed on the one who views the painting, and they convey, as do so many of the figures in art that would say anything to us, this message: You do it too .