Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my own creations.

Author's Note: My 'Emma' of choice is the 1996 production staring Gwyneth Paltrow and Jeremy Northam.

Mrs Weston travelled with her three year old son to Donwell Abbey one morning to visit Emma Knightley – a dear friend she had not seen since Michaelmas as she, with Mr Weston and young Jonathon, had spent the better part of the last three months visiting Jane and Frank Churchill and their 18 month old twins Fairfax and Sophie. (Her dear grandchildren were baptised Frances and Jane, but called Fairfax and Sophie to avoid any confusion.)

Thus it has been three months since Mrs Weston has seen Emma.

Ushered into the day room by a delighted Emma, Mrs Weston was taken aback by the changes that had occurred in her absence. Abigail Knightley was a rambunctious child having just acquired her two years of age and Edmund Knightley was an amiable crawling baby at the tender age of eleven months. But it is not the quick growth of Abby and Ed that surprises Mrs Weston most – it is the pregnant Emma that takes a seat on the couch nearby. She was expecting again!

Sitting together, the two women talk as they supervised the playing of their three children: leader Abby, acquiescent Jon and amiable Ed with his gorgeous laugh at anything and everything. The elder of the two repeatedly expressed her surprise at her old charge's third pregnancy – and so soon. 'How do you do it my dear? Just running after this little boy of mine exhausts me.'

Emma responded with a grace and maturity that Mrs Weston – as Miss Taylor – had once feared she would never have. 'My dear Mrs Weston – what a joy children are! I feel no burden, and only love with each birth. Each day is a challenge and an opportunity to learn as my children learn and grow. It is truly such a blessing.'

Edmund interrupted this declaration when he grabbed his mother's dress and attempted to stand up on wobbly feet. Emma laughs and bends over as well as she can. Picking him up, she settled him against her breast, high up over the swell of her protruding stomach as her son nuzzled at her breast, his desire apparent.

During this time Jonathon and Abigail have been concentrating very hard on building a tower out of blocks and as Mrs Weston made the obligatory congratulatory comments, she turned back to her conversation mate, only to find Emma preparing to breastfeed Edmund by undoing her buttons on her dress and placing a blanket over her son.

'Emma!' Mrs Weston exclaimed as Emma laid a blanket over the baby. 'You are still feeding – even in your current state?' The young mother startled slightly at Mrs Weston's outburst, but placidly responded. 'I never had the opportunity with my own mother and I don't want a wet nurse nurturing my children. It is perfectly safe.' With this, Emma parted the top of her dress and guided Edmund to feed. She adjusted the blanket and rested back a little against the couch as her son continued to suckle.

Mrs Weston watched this, wondering where she had gone wrong in her teachings, before finally making a conclusion. 'Motherhood suits you my dear.'

The next few minutes are spent talking generally, interrupted every so often by the success – and failure – of Abigail and Jonathon's building block creation. Mrs Weston marvelled as the little girl she had raised – now a woman and mother herself – easily shifted to the edge of the couch to congratulate her own daughter's progress, whilst never disturbing her nursing son.

Noting all this, Mrs Weston thought aloud that perhaps now was the right time for her own family to grow. 'I am sure that Jonathon would dearly love a brother or sister.'

'What's this I hear?' declared a new voice. 'Are we to expect a new Weston to make their arrival before the year is out?'

As Mrs Weston flushed at the comment, Abigail's head had flown up the instant she heard her dear father's voice. As their new arrival stepped in the door, Abby flew across the room with a call of 'Papa! Papa!' Mr Knightley leant down to pick up his small daughter, throwing her high into the air before settling her on his hip. The eldest Knightley child planted a firm kiss on her father's cheek, wrapping her arms around his neck as the duo made their way over to the ladies.

Knightley patted Jonathon Weston on the head ('a man of three years now I believe') and bowed (as much as he could with a two year old in his arms) to Mrs Weston before setting Abigail on the ground and approaching his wife.

He placed a hand on the back of the lounge and leant down to kiss his wife's upturned face, his happy smile reflected on hers when they parted. He lifted the blanket to brush his fingers over his son's fine blonde hair before he took a seat on the lounge next to Emma.

From her position on the chair nearby, Mrs Weston noted the comfortable way the man sat back with left arm lying on the back of the couch behind his wife and one leg crossed over the other. She sensed that soon her visit would be coming to an end.

Edmund finished feeding before she could make her excuses, and little boy Knightley was handed to his father. With Emma's warning that he had just been fed, George Knightley pulled a face at Ed as he balanced the child on his knees.

Farewells quickly made, and with an assurance that she could see herself to the door, Mrs Weston held Jonathon's hand as they departed. Almost to the front door, she recalled the invitation for the Knightley's to dine with them four days hence and turned back. Standing in the lounge doorway once again she noted the family scene that presented itself.

Since her departure just moments ago, Abigail Knightley had climbed into her mother's lap and was reaching over to her brother who sat in their father's lap. Both children were engrossed in their play.

Mrs Weston was rooted to the spot as she watched Mr Knightley's hand leave the couch and clasp the back of his wife's neck. Safe in the knowledge that no one was watching, Knightley leaned in to his wife for a kiss.

This was an altogether different kiss to the one that she had witnessed before. There was a greater intimacy and a deeper passion in their coming together. Turning away, she guided Jonathon to the door once again.

The invitation could wait until tomorrow.