Short History Of... - Introducing Jane Austen Stories: Emma

Episode Date: September 2, 2026

This is a preview of a brand-new audiobook from the Noiser Podcast Network. Join Dame Julie Andrews as she reads another beloved Austen classic, Emma, on the Jane Austen Stories podcast. Step into the village of Highbury, home to the handsome and clever Emma Woodhouse. As new visitors arrive and quiet mysteries unfold, what will our heroine learn both of the secrets of others and of her own hearts desires? For more episodes, search for Jane Austen Stories in your podcast app and hit follow, or head to www.noiser.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hi listeners, today we're bringing you a preview of a brand new season from the Noiser Podcast Network. Join Dame Julie Andrews as she returns to Jane Austen's stories to read another beloved classic, Emma. Read in its original unabridged form, with original music and immersive sound design, this is a wonderful way to experience Austin's classic, full of wit, humor and irony, whether you're returning to it or discovering it for the first time. You'll step into the village of Highbury, home to the handsome and clever Emma Woodhouse. But as new visitors arrive and quiet mysteries unfold, what will our heroine learn about the secrets of others and the desires of her own heart?

If you enjoy this Taster episode, search for Jane Austen Stories in your podcast app and hit follow for new weekly episodes. We hope you enjoy. Welcome to Jane Austen Stories. I'm Julie Andrews, and from the Noiser Podcast Network, this is Emma. Austin's fourth novel, first published in 1815, just after she turned 40, it's widely considered one of her best works. Singularly witty and self-aware, beneath its veneer of a genteel love story,

lies a biting social commentary way ahead of its time, packed with intrigue, humour and irony. Join me as we step into the village of Highbury, home to the wealthy, clever and handsome Emma Woodhouse and her aging, fretful father. With her dear friend and governess, Miss Taylor, having just married, in a match Emma credits herself with having arranged, she now turns to others in her circle with whom to play Cupid.

But when the arrival of new friends and long-awaited visitors coincides with a mystery to solve, will Emma's sleuthing also lead her to revelations about herself? Will she ever heed her dashing friend, Mr. Knightley and his warnings about her meddling, and will anything or anyone dislodge our heroine's determination not to marry? Now, if you're sitting comfortably, then I'll begin. From the Noiser podcast network, this is Emma Part 1. Chapter 1. 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 21 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. 16 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 them, it was more the intimacy of sisters. 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, highly

esteeming Miss Taylor's judgment, 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 disparate physician 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. 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, 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 Emma. The want of Miss Taylor would be felt every hour of every day. She recalled her past kindness, the kindness, the affection of 16 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 she had 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 her sister Isabella's marriage on their being left to each other, was yet a dearer, tenderer recollection.

Miss Taylor 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 Emma. In every pleasure, every scheme of hers, one to whom she could speak every thought as it arose, and who had such an affection to her. 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, Emma was now in great danger of suffering from intellectual solitude. She dearly loved her father, but he was no companion for her. He couldn't 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. Emma's sister, though comparatively but little removed by matrimony, being settled in London only 16 miles off, was much beyond her daily reach, and 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 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. 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. 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 Isabella'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 also, and 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, humid, 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? replied her father, 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, Papa. We shall be always meeting. We must begin. We must go and pay our wedding visit very soon. My dear, how am I to get so far? Randles is such a distance. I couldn't walk half so far. No, Papa, nobody thought.

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 a little bit. You be very sure he will always like going to Randalls because of his daughters 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, replied her father. 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 curtses 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 left, latch of the door the right way and never bangs it. I'm 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's 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 and hoped by the help of Backgammon to get her father tolerably through the evening and be attacked by no regrets but her own. The Backgammon table was placed, but a visitor immediately afterwards walked in and made it unnecessary.

I'm Julie Andrews, and it is my great pleasure to return to Jane Austen stories. This time I'll be reading another beloved classic Emma. Join me as we step into the village of Highbury, home to the handsome and clever Emma Woodhouse. But as new visitors arrive and quiet mysteries unfold, what will our strong-willed heroine learn, both of the secrets of others and of her own heart's desires? Listen to Jane Austen stories now wherever you get your podcasts.

Mr. Knightley, a sensible man about seven or eight and thirty, was not only a very old and intimate friend of the family, but particularly connected with it as the elder brother of Isabella's husband. He lived about a mile from Highbury, was a frequent visitor, and always welcome, and at this time more welcome than usual, as coming directly from their mutual connections in London. He had returned to a late dinner after some day's absence, and now walked up to Hartfield to say that all were well in Brunswick Square.

It was a happy circumstance and animated Mr. Woodhouse for some time. Mr. Knightley had a cheerful manner which always did him good, and his many inquiries after poor Isabella and her children were answered most satisfactorily. When this was over, Mr. Woodhouse gratefully observed, it is very kind of you, Mr. Knightley, to come out at this late hour to call upon us. I'm afraid you must have had a shocking walk. Not at all, sir. It is a beautiful moonlit night.

and so mild that I must draw back from your great fire. But you must have found it very damp and dirty, replied Mr. Woodhouse. I wish you may not catch cold. Dirty, sir. Look at my shoes, not a speck on them. Well, that is quite surprising, for we have had a vast deal of rain here. It rained dreadfully hard for half an hour while we were at breakfast. I wanted them to put off the wedding.

By the by, I have not wished you joy, said Mr. Knightley. Being pretty well aware of what sort of joy you must both be feeling, I have been in no hurry with my congratulations, but I hope it all went off tolerably well. How did you all behave? Who cried most? Ah, poor Miss Taylor, tis a sad business, replied Mr. Woodhouse. poor Mr. and Miss Woodhouse, if you please, but I cannot possibly say,

poor Miss Taylor, replied Mr. Knightley. I have a great regard for you and Emma, but when it comes to the question of dependence or independence, at any rate, it must be better to have only one to please than two, especially when one of those two is such a fanciful, troublesome creature, said Emma playfully. That is what you have in your head, I know, and what you would certainly say if my father were not by. I believe it is very true, my dear indeed, said Mr. Woodhouse with a sigh. I'm afraid I am sometimes very fanciful and troublesome. Oh, my dearest papa, you do not think I could mean me.

you, or suppose Mr. Knightley to mean you. What a horrible idea. Oh no, I meant only myself. Mr. Knightley loves to find fault with me, you know, in a joke. It is all a joke. We always say what we like to one another. Mr. Knightley, in fact, was one of the few people who could see faults in Emma Woodhouse and the only one who ever told her of them. And though this was not particularly agreeable to Emma herself, she knew it would be so much less so to her father that she would not have him really suspect, such a circumstance as her not being thought perfect by everybody.

Emma knows I never flatter her, said Mr. Knightley, but I meant no reflection on anybody. Miss Taylor has been used to have two persons to please. She will now have but one. The chances are that she must be a gainer. Well, said Emma, willing to let it pass, you want to hear about the wedding, and I shall be happy to tell you, for we all behaved charmingly.

Everybody was punctual, everybody in their best looks, not a tear and hardly a long face to be seen. Oh, no, we all felt that we were going to be only half a mile apart and were sure of meeting every day. Dear Emma bears everything so well, said her father. But Mr. Knightley, she's really very sorry to lose poor Miss Taylor, and I'm sure she will miss her more than she thinks. Emma turned away her head, divided between tears and smiles.

It is impossible that Emma should not miss such a companion, said Mr. Knightley. We should not like her so well as we do, sir, if we could suppose it. But she knows how much the marriage is to Miss Taylor's advantage. She knows how very acceptable it must be at Miss Taylor's time of. life to be settled in a home of her own, and how important to her to be secure of a comfortable provision and therefore cannot allow herself to feel so much pain as pleasure. Every friend of Miss Taylor must be glad to have her so happily married. And you have forgotten one matter of joy to me, said Emma, and a very considerable

one that I made the match myself. I made the match, you know, four years ago, and to have it take place and be proved in the right when so many people said Mr. Western would never marry again may comfort me for anything. Mr. Knightley shook his head at her. Her father fondly replied, ah, my dear, I wish you would not make matches and foretell things. For what? Whatever you say always comes to pass. Pray, do not make any more matches. I promise you to make none for myself, Papa, but I must indeed for other people,

it is the greatest amusement in the world. And after such success, you know, everybody said that Mr. Weston would never marry again. Oh, dear, no, Mr. Weston, who had been a widower so long, and who seemed so perfectly comfortable without a wife, so constantly occupied, either in business in town or among his friends here, always acceptable wherever he went, always cheerful, Mr. Weston need not spend a single evening in the year alone if he did not like it. Oh no, Mr. Weston certainly would never marry again. Some people even talked of a promise to his wife on her.

deathbed, and others of the son and the uncle not letting him. All manner of solemn nonsense was talked on the subject, but I believed none of it. Ever since the day, about four years ago, that Miss Taylor and I met with him in Broadway Lane, when because it began to drizzle, he darted away with so much gallantry and gathered two umbrellas for us from Farmer Mitchell's. I made up my mind on the subject. I planned the match from that hour, and when such success has blessed me in this instance, dear Papa, you cannot think that I shall leave off matchmaking. I do not understand what you mean by success, said Mr. Knightley. Success supposes endeavor. Your time has been properly and delicately spent. If you have been endeavoring, if you have been

endeavouring for the last four years to bring about this marriage, a worthy employment for a young lady's mind. But if, which I rather imagine, you're making the match, as you call it, means only you're planning it, you're saying to yourself one idle day, I think it would be a very good thing for Miss Taylor if Mr. Weston were to marry her. And saying it again to yourself every now and then afterwards, why do you talk of success? Where is your merit? What are you proud of? You made a lucky guess, and that is all that can be said. And have you never known the pleasure and triumph of a lucky guess? replied Emma, I pity you. I thought you cleverer, for depend upon it, a lucky guess is never merely luck.

There is always some talent in it, and as to my poor word, success, which you quarrel with, I do not know that I am so entirely without any claim to it. You have drawn two pretty pictures, but I think there may be a third, as something between the do-nothing and the do-all.

If I had not promoted Mr. Weston's visits here, and given many little encouragements and smoothed many little matters, it might not have come to anything after all. I think you must know Hartfield enough to comprehend that. A straightforward, open-hearted man like Weston, and a rational, unaffected woman like Miss Taylor, may be safely left to manage their own concerns, replied Mr. Knightley. You are more likely to have done harm to yourself than good to them by interference.

Emma never thinks of herself if she can do good to others, rejoined Mr. Woodhouse, understanding only in part. But my dear, pray do not make any more matches. They are silly things and break up one's family circle grievously. only one more, Papa, only for Mr. Elton. Oh, poor Mr. Elton. You like Mr. Elton, Papa. I must look about for a wife for him. There is nobody in Highbury who deserves him. And he has been here a whole year

and has fitted up his house so comfortably that it would be a shame to have him single any longer. And I thought when he was joining their hands today, he looked so very much as if he would like to have the same kind office done for him. I think very well of Mr. Elton, and this is the only way I have of doing him a service. Mr. Elton is a very pleasing young man to be sure, and a very good young man, and I have a great regard for him, replied her father. But if you want to show him any attention, my dear, ask him to come and dine with us,

someday, that will be a much better thing. I dare say Mr. Knightley will be so kind as to meet him with a great deal of pleasure, sir, at any time, said Mr. Knightley, laughing. And I agree with you entirely that it will be a much better thing. Invite him to dinner, Emma, and help him to the best of the fish and the chicken, but leave him to choose his own wife. Depend upon it, a man of six or seven and 20 can take care of himself. I'm Julie Andrews, and it is my great pleasure to return to Jane Austen stories. This time I'll be reading another beloved classic Emma. Join me as we step into the village of Highbury, home to the handsome and clever Emma Woodhouse.

But as new visitors arrive and quiet mysteries unfold, what will our strong will heroine learn both of the secrets of others and of her own heart's desires. Listen to Jane Austen's stories now wherever you get your podcasts. Chapter 2. Mr. Weston was a native of Highbury and born of a respectable family, which for the last two or three generations had been rising into gentility and property. He had received a good education, but on succeeding early in life to a small independence, had become indisposed for any of the more homely pursuits in which his brothers were engaged and had satisfied an active, cheerful mind and social temper by entering into the militia of his county.

Captain Weston was a general favourite, and when the chances of his military life had introduced him to a Miss Churchill of a great Yorkshire family, and Miss Churchill fell in love with him, nobody was surprised, except her brother and his wife who had never seen him, and who were full of pride and importance which the connection would offend. Miss Churchill, however, being of age, and with the full command of her fortune, though her fortune wore no proportion to the family estate, was not to be dissuaded from the marriage, and it took place to the infinite mortification of Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, who threw her off, was due decorum. It was an unsuitable connection and did not produce much. happiness. Mrs. Weston ought to have found more in it, for she had a husband whose warm heart and sweet temper made him think everything due to her in return for the great goodness of being in love with him. But though she had one sort of spirit, she had not the best. She had resolution enough

to pursue her own will in spite of her brother, but not enough to refrain from unreasonable regrets at that brother's unreasonable anger, nor from missing the luxuries of her former home. The Westons lived beyond their income, but still it was nothing in comparison of Enscombe. She did not cease to love her husband, but she wanted at once to be the wife of Captain Weston and Miss Churchill of Enscombe. Captain Weston, who had been considered, especially by the Churchill's, as making such an amazing match, was proved to have much the worst of the bargain, for when his wife died, after a three-year's marriage, he was rather a poorer man than at first, and with a child

to maintain. From the expense of the child, however, he was soon released. The boy had, with the additional softening claim of a lingering illness of his mother's, been the means of a sort of reconciliation, and Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, having no children of their own, nor any other young creature of equal kindred to care for, offered to take the whole charge of the little Frank soon after his mother's decease. Some scruples and some reluctance the widower father may be supposed to have felt, but as they were overcome by other considerations,

the child was given up to the care and the wealth of the Churchill's, and Mr. Weston had only his own comfort to seek and his own situation to improve as he could. A complete change of life became desirable. He quitted the militia and engaged in trade, having brothers already established in a good way in London, which afforded him a favourable opening. It was a concern which brought just employment enough. He had still a small house in Highbury, where most of his leisure days were spent, and between useful occupation and the pleasures of society, the next 80 years. or 20 years of his life, passed cheerfully away. He had, by that time, realized an easy competence, enough to secure the purchase of a little

estate, adjoining Highbury, which he had always longed for, enough to marry a woman as portionless even as Miss Taylor, and to live according to the wishes of his own friendly and social disposition. It was now some time since Miss Taylor had begun to influence his schemes, but as it was not the tyrannic influence of youth on youth, it had not shaken his determination of never settling till he could purchase Randalls, and the sale of Randalls was long looked forward to, but he had gone steadily on with these objects in view,

till they were accomplished. He had made his fortune, bought his house, and obtained his new wife, and was beginning a new period of existence with every probability of greater happiness than in any yet passed through. He had never been an unhappy man. His own temper had secured him from that, even in his first marriage, but his second must show him how delightful a well-judging and truly amiable woman could be, and must give him the pleasantest proof of its being a great deal better to choose than to be chosen,

to excite gratitude than to feel it. He had only himself to please in his choice, his fortune was his own, for as to his son Frank, it was more. more than being tacitly brought up as his uncle's heir, it had become so avowed an adoption as to have him assume the name of Churchill on coming of age. It was most unlikely, therefore, that he should ever want his father's assistance. His father had no apprehension of it. Frank's aunt was a capricious woman and governed her husband entirely. But it was not in Mr. Weston's nature to imagine that any caprice could be strong enough to affect one so dear and as he believed so deservedly dear.

He saw his son every year in London and was proud of him, and his fond report of him as a very fine young man. had made Highbury feel a sort of pride in him, too. He was looked on as sufficiently belonging to the place to make his merits and prospects a kind of common concern. Mr. Frank Churchill was one of the boasts of Highbury, and a lively curiosity to see him prevailed, though the compliment was so little returned that he had never been there in his life.

His coming to visit his father had been often talked of, but never achieved. Now upon his father's marriage, it was very generally proposed as a most proper attention that the visit should take place. There was not a dissentient voice on the subject, either when Mrs. Perry drank tea with Mrs. and Miss Bates or when Mrs. and Miss Bates returned the visit. Now was the time for Mr. Frank Churchill to come among them, and the hope strengthened when it was understood that he had written to his new mother on the occasion. For a few days, every morning visit in Highbury included some mention of the handsome letter Mrs. Weston had received. I suppose you have heard of the handsome letter Mr. Frank Churchill has written to Mrs. Weston.

I understand it was a very handsome letter indeed. Mr. Woodhouse told me of it. Mr. Woodhouse saw the letter, and he says he never saw such a handsome letter in his life. It was indeed a highly prized letter. Mrs. Weston had, of course, formed a very favourable idea of the young man, and such a pleasing attention was an irresistible proof. proof of his great good sense, and a most welcome addition to every source and every expression of congratulation which her marriage had already secured. She felt herself a most fortunate woman,

and she had lived long enough to know how fortunate she might well be thought, where the only regret was for a partial separation from friends whose friendship for her had never cool. and could ill bear to part with her. She knew that at times she must be missed and could not think without pain of Emma's losing a single pleasure or suffering an hour's ennui from the want of her companionship.

But dear Emma was of no feeble character. She was more equal to her situation than most girls would have been and had sense and energy and spirits that might be hoped would bear her well and happily through its little difficulties and privations. And then there was such comfort in the very easy distance of Randalls from Hartfield, so convenient for even solitary female walking, and in Mr. Weston's disposition and circumstances,

which would make the approaching season no hindrance to their spending, the evenings in the week together. Her situation was altogether the subject of hours of gratitude to Mrs. Weston and of moments only of regret. And her satisfaction, her more than satisfaction, her cheerful enjoyment was so just and so apparent that Emma, well as she knew her father, was sometimes taken by surprise, at his being still able to be able to be. to pity, poor Miss Taylor, when they left her at Randalls in the centre of every domestic comfort or saw her go away in the evening attended by her pleasant husband to a carriage of her own. But never did she go without Mr. Woodhouse's giving a gentle sigh and saying,

Oh, poor Miss Taylor, she would be very glad to stay. There was no recovering, Miss Taylor, nor much likelihood of his ceasing to pity her. But a few weeks brought some alleviation to Mr. Woodhouse. The compliments of his neighbours were over. He was no longer teased by being wished joy of so sorrowful an event, and the wedding cake, which had been a great distress to him, was all eaten up. His own stomach could bear nothing rich, and he could never believe other people to be different from himself. What was unwholesome to him he regarded as unfit for anybody, and he had therefore earnestly tried to dissuade them from having any wedding cake at all,

and when that proved vain, as earnestly tried to prevent anybody's eating it. He had been at the pains of consulting Mr. Perry, the apothecary on the subject. Mr. Perry was an intelligent, gentleman-like man, whose frequent visits were one of the comforts of Mr. Woodhouse's life. And upon being applied to, he could not but acknowledge, though it seemed rather against the bias of inclination, that wedding cake might certainly disagree with me. perhaps with most people unless taken moderately. With such an opinion in confirmation of his own, Mr. Woodhouse hoped to influence every visitor of the new married pair, but still the cake was eaten and there was no rest for his benevolent nerves till it was all gone.

There was a strange rumor in Highbury of all the little peries being seen with a slice of Mrs. Weston's wedding cake in their hands. But Mr. Woodhouse would never believe it. In the next episode, while Emma continues to soothe her father's anxieties, she is introduced to the sweet, unassuming Miss Harriet's.

Smith. Despite the 17-year-old's modest social standing and mysterious background, Emma is determined to improve her and perhaps indulge in a little matchmaking along the way. But have Harriet's affections already been secured by another? That's next time on Jane Austen's stories, Emma. We hope you enjoyed this Taster, episode of Jane Austen Stories Emma, narrated by Dame Julie Andrews. For more episodes, search for Jane Austen Stories in your podcast app and hit follow, or head to www.noiser.com.