by Amanda Davis
“And might I venture a guess and say that you are one who might know?” Elias jested.
“Of course!” Joshua laughed. “We will go exploring when the hotel retires for the night. I cannot promise you will find anything but at least you will not be idle.”
“I owe you a debt of gratitude, Josh,” Elias told him earnestly. “When I have found Christiana, I will see that you are repaid in kind.”
The boy snickered.
“I would be fibbing if I told you that I am not enjoying the excitement. Life about the hotel can get quite mundane. Perhaps I am doing this as much for myself as I am for you.”
“I doubt that very much,” Elias told him. “But I appreciate it all the same.”
“You may thank me by not getting caught,” Joshua quipped and Elias nodded, smiling.
“It is a deal, my friend.”
Chapter Seven
The pianoforte played mellifluously throughout the ballroom, a subtle but cheerful rendition.
Haydn, Emmeline realized as she glided through the room, the corners of her rosebud mouth raised in a faux smile. A gracious serenity radiated about her, but it was there by rote rather than design.
I am a perfectly trained house pet, groomed and shiny, paraded about to dazzle the guests as always. I must be witty, but dare not speak too much. I must be articulate, but dare not voice an opinion.
Her gown of pale lavender accentuated her golden brown eyes, the color flattering against the hypnotic waver of the candles systematically placed about the ever-filling hall.
“You look lovely tonight, Emmy,” Xavier told her graciously, extending his arm for her to take. She accepted it eagerly, happy it was her brother who walked beside her and not Walter Greene, who had yet to appear.
“Thank you. You are also quite dashing,” she replied graciously although she was not exaggerating. His thick, blonde hair was swept back stylishly, exposing his handsome face and intelligent eyes.
“I must tell you how much I admire your strength,” he told her quietly as they nodded at the various guests.
“Strange. I do not feel strong,” she confessed in a breath. “I feel as though I am about to float away.”
Xavier cast her a sidelong look but they did not slow their gait until he stopped at the buffet and released her arm.
“You will not float away,” he promised. “Regardless of what happens, I will always be here. You must know that.”
She looked gratefully at him and smiled.
“You are a good brother,” she told him.
“Ah, Mr. Xavier, Miss Balfour. What a pleasure.” They turned to face the Duke of Workenshire who beamed at them gleefully.
Emmeline curtsied as Xavier bowed and the Duke nodded to them.
“I daresay there is not a finer duo in this room tonight,” the Duke announced.
“You are too kind, Your Grace,” Emmeline told him demurely.
“I only speak in truths, Miss Balfour. I daresay that after tonight, there will be many a shattered bachelor in Luton.”
Emmeline’s smile faded quickly and she glanced at Xavier who seemed equally surprised by the Duke’s words.
“Your Grace?” she asked.
“Oh, my dear, there is no need to be coy. It is the talk of all of Luton that you will be announcing your engagement tonight. Forgive me for carrying on—I assure you I will act surprised when Mr. Greene declares your betrothal.”
Apprehension snaked its way through Emmeline and she looked to her brother as the Duke excused himself.
“Does the entire town know of this?” she snapped in disgust. “Was I truly meant to be the last to learn of Father’s plans? Of my own betrothal?”
“I am sorry, Emmy,” Xavier said helplessly and she easily read the misery in his face.
It is not Xavier who deserves your anger. It is Father and that wretch, Walter Greene.
“Mother has arrived,” Xavier muttered and more tension tightened Emmeline’s shoulders. She turned her head to find her mother grinning foolishly as her head scanned the room with eyes that failed to focus. She wore a black dress that was more appropriate for a wake than a lavish gala.
“Dear Lord, what is she wearing?” Emmeline muttered more to herself than Xavier but her brother was equally displeased.
“I will not play governess to her tonight,” he vowed, but Emmeline knew that was precisely what he would do. Charlton would be preoccupied with his own matters, ignoring his wife at best, demeaning her at worst. It would be Xavier’s duty to ensure that all ran smoothly, particularly when Anne already had her lips pressed to a goblet of champagne.
“Dear Lord,” Xavier mumbled again, hurrying toward his mother’s side. Sighing, Emmeline looked away, her eyes resting on Joshua who circulated the party with a silver tray of crystal-stemmed glasses.
She had not seen him nor Elias since the previous day, the preparations for the gala overtaking her morning and afternoon. Nevertheless, she had been unable to stop thinking about them, despite her own worries.
I must speak to Joshua alone. Perhaps there is some information on where Christiana has gone.
She nodded to Lord Edmund and Lady Chisholm as they approached, but quickly ducked away from the crowd, hoping to catch Joshua’s attention. He was far too consumed with his work to notice her at first.
Perhaps I could slip away to his quarters and see Elias myself, she thought. The notion tantalized her far more than it should have. If she disappeared from the party, she would undoubtedly be missed and someone might come looking for her.
But all the staff is here tonight. I would barely be seen if I go.
Indecisively, she remained in place.
What would I tell him if I do go to him? There is no reason for me to visit him. I have no news on his…wife.
She continued to struggle with the concept of Elias being married.
“Miss Balfour, would you care for champagne?”
Joshua. Her body heaved with relief.
“Thank you, Joshua,” she murmured, accepting a goblet from the tray. “I was hoping to speak with you alone.”
“I fear this is not the best time, Miss.”
“I concur,” she agreed hurriedly, feeling foolish that she had suggested it at all. “Do answer me this—is all well with our mutual friend?”
Joshua swallowed a smile and darted his eyes downward.
“I daresay all is well. He is nearer than you might think,” Joshua said, his eyes pointedly fixing behind her on the wall.
She turned her head and followed his gaze in confusion.
“I do not understand.”
“Lower, Miss Balfour. The vent.”
Her eyes dropped and she gasped, almost losing hold of her glass when she saw hints of a dashing face and a set of familiar, piercing eyes peering up at her. Elias grinned from his hiding place, pressing his index finger to his lips.
“My word…” Emmeline muttered, her face flushing. “I have not used those passages since I was a child.”
Joshua tittered.
“I remember. We found them together.”
She nodded but her eyes were still trained on Elias, her skin prickling as he held her gaze.
“Miss Balfour,” Joshua whispered. “I believe you will be needed in a moment.”
“How is that?”
Joshua did not answer but suddenly, a voice boomed across the room as the music died.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Charlton called from the head of the room. “May I have your attention please?”
The din in the ballroom quieted and all guests focussed on the proprietor as he scanned the faces of the crowd.
“I would like to thank you all for joining us at our annual winter gala,” he began, his eyes found and rested on Emmeline sending a spark of frightened nervousness shooting through her.
“Tonight is a special occasion, not only because we are entrenched in dapper lords and fine ladies,” he continued to a round of appreciative laughter. “But also because t
he Balfours have a special announcement this fine evening.”
Charlton tore his eyes away from Emmeline as Walter Greene suddenly appeared beside him. The portly man could not manage a smile for the crowd and instead scowled defiantly as if he had no interest in being there.
“Many of you know Mr. Walter Greene. His business is renowned in Luton and abound.”
There was a shift in the atmosphere, a slight murmur erupting in the group and Emmeline could plainly see the disdain many of the attendees felt toward the businessman.
“This is why it is my great honor to announce that Mr. Greene will be joining the Balfour family as my daughter’s husband.”
Charlton smiled broadly and gestured for Emmeline to join them but her legs felt like lead against the polished floor.
“Miss Balfour,” Joshua breathed. “They are waiting on you.”
She gulped back the stone lodged in her throat and propelled herself forward but the forced smile would not come, no matter how she tried to muster it.
You must not make a scene, she warned herself and as the thought crossed her mind. She sought out her mother among the guests who were doing their best to look congratulatory.
Anne smirked at Emmeline but there was an unmistakable sorrow in the older woman’s eyes.
“Emmeline,” Charlton told her, grasping her gloved hand in his own white clad fingers. “You are my only daughter and I have dreamed of the day that you will wed a fine man.”
Emmeline lowered her gaze, feeling the burn of Walter Greene’s beady eyes upon her.
“Mr. Greene, I welcome you to our family with open arms,” Charlton cried and Emmeline could hear the faux note of geniality in his words. “Would you care to say anything?”
He turned to Walter but to everyone’s surprise, Walter only grunted.
“I will save my speech for the wedding,” he grumbled.
“A man of few words, our Mr. Greene,” Charlton laughed and the crowd joined him, an air of discomfort hanging over the party. “Let us not embarrass him further. We shall continue the festivities, shan’t we?”
Walter shuffled away with another grunt and Emmeline found herself staring after him in disbelief.
“Father,” she breathed, reaching out for Charlton. “He does not seem to be keen on this marriage.”
Charlton glared at her.
“Do not speak nonsense, Emmeline. Every bachelor in Luton deigns to marry you.”
“But Father—”
“I will not hear another word on this subject, are we clear?” Charlton hissed, his face contorting in fury. “If you insist on being petulant, I will make arrangements for you until the wedding.”
Arrangements? She thought, stunned, but she did not voice her question aloud. She was certain she would not enjoy the answer.
“When will the wedding take place, Father?” she asked instead and Charlton visibly relaxed slightly as he studied her eyes for signs of trouble.
“Soon,” he told her. “There is no need for a long engagement.”
The response knotted Emmeline stomach with dread and she turned from her father who had already diverted his attention elsewhere.
Instantly, remembered the bronzed grate where she knew Elias had been hiding, her heart racing.
Does it much matter to him that I am engaged now? She wondered, slowly making her way back to where she had last seen him. Something in her longed to see his glowing eyes staring out at her, but as she reclaimed her vantage point near the wall, Elias was no longer visible behind the vent cover.
Her chest felt heavy as she wilted against the stone. Never had she felt so alone or confused.
I am to marry a man I do not like, let alone love, and my family does not care.
She did not wish to feel pity for herself but the melancholy was nearly overwhelming.
Many women have married men like Walter Greene and led perfectly successful lives, she reasoned rationally, but it did little to ease her sadness. She turned to away from the wall but as she did, she notice a small scrap of paper folded over the bottom of the grate, the edge just barely visible. Her brow furrowed, Emmeline leaned down to pick it up, certain that it had not been there earlier.
She opened it up, looking about for some clue as to how it may have gotten there.
Turret rooftop. 9 o’clock.
No sooner did she read the words than the grandfather clocks begin to chime the hour of nine.
She looked about, unsure for whom the message was meant but in her gut, she felt that it was for her and the writer, she was certain, was none other than Elias Compton.
There is only one way to know for sure, she thought, glancing furtively about as though going to the roof was a sin in itself.
There is no sin, she told herself as she slipped out of the ballroom, amidst the well-wishers who surrounded her. It only feels like one.
Yet she had no reservations about stealing away to see if it was she Elias expected to meet on the roof.
Chapter Eight
A light mist rained down upon the open turret and Elias rubbed his bare hands against his arms, wishing he had thought to find a coat before venturing outside but he heard the toll of church bells indicating the hour of nine. It was too late to sneak back inside.
If she comes at all. She may not. She may not have seen my note.
Suddenly, Elias felt very foolish.
Why did you do that?
“Elias?”
He whirled at the sound of Emmeline’s voice and exhaled with relief as she stole through the shadows toward him.
“You came,” he breathed. “I was unsure if you would find my note.”
“Of course I came,” she replied quietly, carefully closing the distance between them. She shivered slightly and again, Elias cursed himself for not having a coat for her.
“Forgive the covert surroundings. I feared that I would encounter Mrs. Baxter or Mr. Wesley with all the fuss.”
“No,” Emmeline replied softly. “Despite the cold, I relish the quiet.”
“I suspected as much.”
She peered at him quizzically.
“Why have you called me here?”
Because I am a fool, he wanted to say but he did not.
“I thought you could use an escape for a short time,” he said instead. “Forgive me for being presumptuous.”
“Not at all,” she said softly. “You were quite right. Were my sentiments that obvious?”
“Even from the confines of a grate,” he laughed but he knew the matter was not one for jesting. He cleared his throat and looked away shyly.
“Forgive me, Miss Balfour. I should be congratulating you on your betrothal.”
“Thank you.” Her response was stiff.
“Have you known Mr. Greene long?” Elias knew he was grasping at conversation and again, he considered that he had made a mistake boldly inviting her to such a private interview.
“I do not know Mr. Greene at all but to say he is an associate of my father’s.”
“Oh…I-I see.”
An uncomfortable silence ensued and they glanced at one another nervously.
“Did you know Christiana before you married her?”
Elias sighed.
“We were childhood friends.”
A small smile formed on Emmeline’s lips.
“How charming,” she offered. “You had always known you would wed then.”
Elias scoffed before he could stop himself and shook his head.
“Hardly. She is like a sister to me.”
His head jerked up and he met her stunned gaze, his ears heating amidst the cold.
“I-it is a complex matter,” he mumbled but he knew he owed more than his usual response.
She has gone out of her way to help me find Christiana. I can be frank with her. Christiana need not know I spoke out of school.
“Christa has always been difficult, even when she was very young. She is the last of six children and I suspect that she was very much lost in the
fold which is why she looked for affirmation anywhere she could find it—and with anyone.”
He gritted his teeth together, less from the chill in the air and more because he realized he had never spoken the story aloud before.
“You need not explain it to me,” Emmeline told him gently. “Your personal affairs are your own.”
“If you’ll permit me, I’d like you to know,” Elias insisted. “It has simply not a tale I have spoken in words outside of my own head.”
She did not say a word and instead waited for him to finish the story he had started.
“She was unruly, never listening, never acting properly and soon she had earned a reputation for herself in Peterborough, one which was not befitting of such a sweet girl. You must understand, Miss Balfour, Christa was never cruel or malicious, merely wayward.”
“I have nothing but fond memories of her,” Emmeline conceded.
“She came to me one day, three years ago, sobbing. She was with child and the father had run off with another woman.”
Emmeline gasped, already sensing what he was about to say next.
“My family was in decent standing in Peterborough and hers could not withstand more shame brought upon them so I took it upon myself to marry her. I wanted to save her but Christa, she has no desire to be saved.”
“My word…you are a saint, Elias.”
“I am a fool,” he snapped back. “She lost the child or so she claimed. I have no way of knowing if he ever truly was and yet I was married to this unsound woman who resented me for the union. She came and went as she pleased. She had lovers, blatantly and without shame. My parents were furious with the way she besmirched our good name. But we were wed now and what else was I to do? In the end, she always came home, crying when something went awry. She knows I care about her, the way a brother cares for a sister and she knows I am the safest place for her to be.”
“That is a terrible burden for you to carry upon yourself,” Emmeline told him quietly.
“When she came here, I was relieved. She wrote me and I knew she was alive but whatever debauchery she was getting involved in, it did not affect the Compton name in Peterborough. I thought…I hoped that she would change, become a woman and stop being the spoiled child she had always been. And then, she abruptly stopped writing. I know in my heart that she is unsafe somewhere, Miss Balfour and I must find her.”