Authors: Katie Blu
A Total-E-Bound Publication
ISBN # 978-1-78184-404-5
©Copyright Katie Blu 2013
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright August 2013
Edited by Eleanor Boyall
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
This story contains 430 pages, additionally there is also a
at the end of the book containing 6 pages.
A Clandestine Classic
Jane Austen & Katie Blu
Emma craves the intimacy of marriage without the contract and Mr Knightley is obliging. But once he has her crying out for more, will she ever be the same?
Bored with country life—and having no intention of getting married herself—Emma plays matchmaker in her small community of Highbury. It isn’t long before her curiosity gets the better of her and she wonders at the benefits of married life. Can she have the cream without the cake? Emma decides to find out, but will Mr Knightley’s bedroom talents prove more intoxicating than she expects, and will she be unable to leave their scandalous association with her heart unscathed?
Emma may have met her match in the most unexpected of ways.
To the awesome staff at TEB. Thank you.
Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence, and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.
She was the youngest of the two daughters of a most affectionate, indulgent father and had, in consequence of her sister’s marriage, been mistress of his house from a very early period. Her mother had died too long ago for her to have more than an indistinct remembrance of her caresses, and her place had been supplied by an excellent woman as governess, who had fallen little short of a mother in affection.
Sixteen years had Miss Taylor been in Mr Woodhouse’s family, less as a governess than a friend, very fond of both daughters, but particularly of Emma. Between
it was more the intimacy of sisters, and one of shared secrets. Even before Miss Taylor had ceased to hold the nominal office of governess, the mildness of her temper had hardly allowed her to impose any restraint, and the shadow of authority being now long passed away, they had been living together as friend and friend very mutually attached, and Emma doing just what she liked, however ill-advised—highly esteeming Miss Taylor’s judgement, but directed chiefly by her own.
The real evils, indeed, of Emma’s situation were the power of having rather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little too well of herself. These were the disadvantages which threatened alloy to her many enjoyments. The danger, however, was at present so unperceived that they did not by any means rank as misfortunes with her, rather as benefits to her unique station.
Sorrow came—a gentle sorrow—but not at all in the shape of any disagreeable consciousness. Miss Taylor married. It was Miss Taylor’s loss which first brought grief. It was on the wedding-day of this beloved friend that Emma first sat in mournful thought of any continuance. The wedding over, and the bride-people gone, her father and herself were left to dine together, with no prospect of a third to cheer a long evening. Her father composed himself to sleep after dinner, as usual, and she had then only to sit and think of what she had lost.
The event had every promise of happiness for her friend. Mr Weston was a man of unexceptionable character, easy fortune, suitable age and pleasant manners, easily looked upon, and there was some satisfaction in considering with what self-denying, generous friendship she had always wished and promoted the match, but it was a black morning’s work for her. The want of Miss Taylor would be felt every hour of every day. She recalled her past kindness—the kindness, the affection of sixteen years—how she had taught and how she had played with her from five years old—how she had devoted all her powers to attach and amuse her in health—and how nursed her through the various illnesses of childhood. A large debt of gratitude was owing here, but the intercourse of the last seven years, the equal footing and perfect unreserve which had soon followed Isabella’s marriage, on their being left to each other, was yet a dearer, tenderer recollection. She had been a friend and companion such as few possessed, intelligent, well-informed, useful, gentle, knowing all the ways of the family, interested in all its concerns and peculiarly interested in herself, in every pleasure, every scheme of hers—one to whom she could speak every thought as it arose, and who had such an affection for her as could never find fault.
How was she to bear the change? It was true that her friend was going only half a mile from them, but Emma was aware that great must be the difference between a Mrs Weston, only half a mile from them, and a Miss Taylor in the house, and with all her advantages, natural and domestic, she was now in great danger of suffering from intellectual solitude. She dearly loved her father, but he was no companion for her. He could not meet her in conversation, rational or playful.
The evil of the actual disparity in their ages—and Mr Woodhouse had not married early—was much increased by his constitution and habits, for having been a valetudinarian all his life, without activity of mind or body, he was a much older man in ways than in years, and though everywhere beloved for the friendliness of his heart and his amiable temper, his talents could not have recommended him at any time. It was for this reason she relied upon dear Miss Taylor—who was no more Miss Taylor but beloved Mrs Weston.
Her sister, though comparatively but little removed by matrimony, being settled in London, only sixteen miles off, was as much beyond her daily reach as beyond intimate council. Still many a long October and November evening must be struggled through at Hartfield before Christmas brought the next visit from Isabella and her husband, and their little children, to fill the house, and give her pleasant society again.
Highbury—the large and populous village, almost amounting to a town, to which Hartfield, in spite of its separate lawn and shrubberies and name, did really belong—afforded her no social equals. The Woodhouses were first in consequence there. All looked up to them. She had many acquaintances in the place, for her father was universally civil, but not one among them who could be accepted in lieu of Miss Taylor for even half a day. For it was with Miss Taylor she had shared her deepest thoughts, and Miss Taylor, while scandalised by some, had not discouraged her from them.
It was a melancholy change, and Emma could not but sigh over it, and wish for impossible things, till her father awoke, and made it necessary to be cheerful. His spirits required support. He was a nervous man, easily depressed, fond of everybody that he was used to and hating to part with them, hating change of every kind. Matrimony, as the origin of change, was always disagreeable, and he was by no means yet reconciled to his own daughter’s marrying—nor could ever speak of her but with compassion, though it had been entirely a match of affection—when he was now obliged to part with Miss Taylor too. From his habits of gentle selfishness, and of being never able to suppose that other people could feel differently from himself, he was very much disposed to think Miss Taylor had done as sad a thing for herself as for them, and would have been a great deal happier if she had spent all the rest of her life at Hartfield.
Emma smiled and chatted as cheerfully as she could, to keep him from such thoughts, but when tea came, it was impossible for him not to say exactly as he had said at dinner, “Poor Miss Taylor! I wish she were here again. What a pity it is that Mr Weston ever thought of her!”
“I cannot agree with you, papa, you know I cannot. Mr Weston is such a good-humoured, pleasant, excellent man that he thoroughly deserves a good wife, and you would not have had Miss Taylor live with us forever, and bear all my odd humours, when she might have a house of her own?”
“A house of her own! But where is the advantage of a house of her own? This is three times as large. And you have never any odd humours, my dear.”
“How often we shall be going to see them, and they coming to see us! We shall be always meeting.
must begin, we must go and pay the wedding visit very soon.”
“My dear, how am I to get so far? Randalls is such a distance. I could not walk half so far.”
“No, papa, nobody thought of your walking. We must go in the carriage, to be sure.”
“The carriage! But James will not like to put the horses to for such a little way, and where are the poor horses to be while we are paying our visit?”
“They are to be put into Mr Weston’s stable, papa. You know we have settled all that already. We talked it all over with Mr Weston last night. And as for James, you may be very sure he will always like going to Randalls, because of his daughter’s being housemaid there. I only doubt whether he will ever take us anywhere else. That was your doing, papa. You got Hannah that good place. Nobody thought of Hannah till you mentioned her—James is so obliged to you!”
“I am very glad I did think of her. It was very lucky, for I would not have had poor James think himself slighted upon any account, and I am sure she will make a very good servant. She is a civil, pretty-spoken girl, I have a great opinion of her. Whenever I see her, she always curtseys and asks me how I do, in a very pretty manner, and when you have had her here to do needlework, I observe she always turns the lock of the door the right way and never bangs it. I am sure she will be an excellent servant, and it will be a great comfort to poor Miss Taylor to have somebody about her that she is used to see. Whenever James goes over to see his daughter, you know, she will be hearing of us. He will be able to tell her how we all are.”
Emma spared no exertions to maintain this happier flow of ideas, as she had many questions for Mrs Weston as to what transpired between a man and his wife. Her curiosity so piqued her, for she knew Mrs Weston would not leave her wanting of information, that she decided to convince her father of the benefits in the wedding visit. Towards that end she determined to see his mood suitably elevated and hoped, by the help of backgammon, to get her father tolerably through the evening, and be attacked by no regrets but her own in coercing him. The backgammon table was placed, but a visitor immediately afterwards walked in and made it unnecessary. Emma should have been very vexed if she had not thought so highly of the visitor, and she smiled when he made his entry.