by Abby Ayles
Lucius gave Emma a puzzled smile and took her hand, gently kissing it.
“Miss Baker,” he said. “It is a pleasure to see you, to be sure, but what brings you here on such short notice? It is not yet time for our monthly appointment.”
“Yes, I know,” Emma said, suddenly uncomfortable. “But I was hoping to speak with you before then. I’ve spoken to Marcus recently, and he sent me to you.”
Lucius’s puzzled expression deepened.
“Oh?” he asked. Then, he shook his head and smiled. “Of course, I am happy to help you in any way I can. Please, come into my study.”
Emma followed Lucius down the hall and into his office. For the sake of propriety, he left the door open when they entered. He guided Emma inside and pulled out a seat for her. Then, he moved around his desk and claimed his own chair.
“Now, what can I do for you?” he asked.
Emma cleared her throat.
“Well, as I mentioned, I have spoken with Marcus,” she began.
“How is he doing?” Lucius asked kindly, folding his hands on his desk and leaning forward.
“He seemed to be in very high spirits when my friend and I visited him,” she said, smiling at the memory of her brother’s smile and laughter. “However, he told me something that I cannot quite understand.”
“And what might that be?” Lucius asked.
Emma took a deep breath and tried to stifle her growing unease.
“He said that, before Father died, there were some ships,” she said.
Lucius’s eyes widened. Then, he shook his head, seeming to not understand.
“Ships?” he echoed.
“Yes, ships,” Emma said. “Marcus said that there were several ships that, upon Father’s death, would have been counted among our assets. I was hoping that, by coming here, we might find those ships. They would certainly help the financial situation just now.”
Lucius’s expression transformed into one of agitated disbelief.
“There are no ships,” he said coldly. “The illness must be affecting Marcus’s mind.”
Emma stared at Lucius, baffled at the sudden change in his demeanor. Lucius had never taken such a tone with her, or anyone else in her family.
She was also upset that someone so close to the family could suggest that Marcus’s mental faculties were in any way deficient.
“His mind seems very much intact,” Emma said, defending her brother. “He was very coherent and stable, and he seemed quite sure.”
Lucius gave her a dry, humorless laugh.
“I assure you that I have shown you every last asset that belonged to your father. Which, as you well know, did not amount to much,” Lucius said, his voice beginning to rise. “And I do not appreciate being accused of lying.”
Emma began to get nervous. She still could not understand Lucius’s reaction. She had not meant to upset him, and she certainly had not intended to accuse him of lying.
She floundered to try to fix the situation.
“Oh, no, Mr. Rowley,” she said, worried. “I did not mean to imply that you were lying. Nor did Marcus,” she added quickly.
Lucius huffed but said nothing.
Emma tried to smile, now wishing she had never brought up the issue.
“Please, forgive my impertinence,” she said, her eyes begging. “I am sure that Marcus was just mistaken.”
Lucius, still silent, rose from his seat. Emma was terrified that he was about to ask her to leave his office and never return. While she was still very bothered by his sudden, new hostility, she pushed away the thought for the time being.
She feared that Marcus’s recent improvement was temporary, as it usually was. If that was the case, and Marcus worsened again or, worse still, died, Lucius would be all that Emma had.
She knew that she could ill afford to anger one of her only allies. If she did so, she risked him abandoning her. So, she decided that it would be best if she just dropped the issue.
Lucius stood behind his desk looking down at her, studying her for a moment. His face softened, albeit minutely. Instead of insisting that she leave his office at once, he walked over to one of the shelves that contained many stacks of papers.
He scanned the shelves for a moment. Then, he found that for which he was searching. He pulled out a stack of papers and walked back over to the desk. By the top piece of paper, Emma recognized it as her father’s list of assets.
“Let us look once more, shall we?” Lucius asked. He looked down at the papers rather than at Emma, so she could not read his expression, but his voice was still cool. Rather than risk incurring more of his wrath, Emma merely nodded.
She sat silently as Lucius once again carefully pointed out, page by page, the items listed among her father’s assets.
She tried to make a point of keeping her eyes on Lucius’s face rather than the papers, hoping to prove to him that she trusted him. She caught herself glancing down a couple of times, however.
Once, she thought that he flipped a page a bit faster than all the others, but she chastised herself, realizing that she was almost certainly wrong.
When Lucius was done, he restacked the papers neatly and tapped the end of the stack on his desk. Instead of putting them back on the shelf immediately, he at last looked at Emma. His jaw had relaxed, and he was no longer scowling, but his eyes were unreadable.
“You see?” he asked. “No ships.”
Emma nodded eagerly.
“Of course,” she said. “It was foolish of me to come here, entertaining such a notion. If Father had had ships, I certainly would have known. I will let Marcus know that he just made a mistake.”
At last, Lucius smiled.
“Indeed,” he said. “But then, we are only human.”
Emma thought his voice sounded warmer, if still a bit strained.
“Thank you,” she said. “And again, please forgive me. I truly meant no disrespect.”
Lucius nodded.
“Now, if you will excuse me, I really must get back to work,” he said.
“Yes, of course,” she said, allowing Lucius to guide her back into the lobby.
She considered apologizing again, but she decided against it. The matter seemed to be resolved, and she did not want to make things any worse. Instead, she gave Lucius one last hasty goodbye and quickly left the office.
On the trip back to Blackburn Manor, Emma thought about the conversation.
She was quite discouraged. For a short while, she had allowed herself to think that not only would she be able to get Marcus well, but also offer Francis an alternative to marrying Rosaline.
With the use of the ships that her father apparently did not, in fact, have, he could have freed himself from his dependence on his blackmailing father-in-law. Then, Francis would be free to marry whomever he wished, even if that was not her.
The gesture also would have freed Rosaline to marry a man that she chose. Emma now considered Rosaline a dear friend, and she felt that neither she nor Francis deserved the terrible situation into which they were being forced.
She wanted nothing more than to see them both happy.
Emma smiled, thinking again about how well Marcus and Rosaline had gotten along. In fact, if Emma did not know better, she would have thought that Rosaline was rather smitten with her brother.
From what she could see, it seemed that Marcus was taken with Rosaline, as well. In fact, Emma thought that, if her brother did recover from his illness, he would be very happy with Rosaline.
And, if Rosaline was as enamored with Marcus as she had seemed, perhaps she would simply elope with him if her uncle refused them the match.
Which, as things were, he almost certainly would.
Chapter 20
Francis paced the hallway at the top of the stairs.
He had received word from Margaret that Emma had had errands to run, but it was nearing late afternoon, and Emma had not yet returned.
He told himself that he was merely concerned for her
safety, which was partly true. However, the underlying thought he kept trying to ignore and pretend did not exist was that she had, in fact, quit, and would never return.
He did not believe for a moment that Emma had not told him herself simply because she did not wish to disturb him while he worked. If there was anything he knew about Emma, it was that she had never before been intimidated by him.
She had proven that time and again by speaking to him very directly and intelligently, and she certainly was not afraid to speak her opinions quite bluntly.
The only reason he could think of that she would not tell him of her errands herself was because his behavior towards her had at last driven her off.
Of course, he could have peeked into her room to see if her belongings were still there. It was, after all, his house. But, in light of all that had recently transpired, he felt that unwise.
What if she did return to find him snooping in her room? Or, what if one of the servants saw him? It would have been far from appropriate, even though she was not in there.
As he paced, a couple of his servants passed by him in the upstairs hallway. He dipped his head to them in acknowledgment but pretended to not notice their questioning expressions.
He did not wish to refresh any of the rumors that had circulated about his and Emma’s suspected affair, so he opted to remain silent and feign ignorance.
In an effort to distract himself from Emma’s absence, he decided to take the children for a tour of the grounds before dinner. As he gathered the children and ushered them outside, he thought about how different things had been since Emma’s arrival.
He thought back to the day when Emma had given him what for about spending time with them, and how angry he had been. Then, he thought about how her increasing approval was affecting him, and he could not help but smile again.
She truly had been a wonderful influence in his life, and the lives of his children, a real blessing, when his family was most in need of one. Whatever else happened, Francis knew that he would forever be grateful to Emma for everything she had done.
“Where are we going, Father?” Rowena asked, her voice breaking through his thoughts.
Francis mentally cursed himself. He had rushed into the children’s room and told them to get themselves ready, without telling them why.
“I thought that today would be a good day to add a bit of history to your lessons,” he said, grateful that his voice sounded lighter than he did.
“Will Miss Baker be joining us?” Winston asked.
Francis bit his cheek to keep his mouth from twitching. He shook his head and put on a calm, relaxed smile.
“She is still out running errands,” he said in his best reassuring voice. “But, will she not be proud of us for learning a bit while she is gone?”
The children clapped their hands in delight, and Francis breathed a sigh of relief.
He feared that, if he had to keep up pretenses for too long, the children would pick up on his concerns. Perhaps, this would be the perfect distraction until Emma returned. For all of them.
He considered calling the nanny to walk with them, then changed his mind. This was something he should do with the children by himself. Would that Emma could join us, he could not help thinking.
Giving himself a shake, he escorted the children out the back door. Instantly, he was impacted by the beauty of the grounds.
Until that moment, he had not realized how long it had been since he had been anywhere but at the front of the grounds. In fact, he did not believe that he had set foot anywhere near the rest of the grounds since before Caroline died.
He swallowed his shame at the thought and put on a smile for the children, who were watching him expectantly and curiously.
“Let us start with the gardens, shall we?” he asked.
“We know every single inch of the gardens, Father,” Rowena giggled, but she skipped happily ahead a few steps, in the direction of the lovely, giant maze of various blooming flowers.
“Ah, but I bet you did not know that some of those flowers and plants have been there longer than you have been alive,” Francis said, trying to sound mysterious. “Some have even been there longer than I have been alive.”
“Really?” Rowena gasped. “Like which ones?”
“Well,” Francis said slowly. “Let us walk through there and find out.”
They walked into the garden entrance. Francis thought again about how he had forgotten the almost surreal beauty of everything.
There were roses of every color, lilies, tulips, and other flowers growing in vibrant, neatly kempt clusters everywhere. He saw the ones to which he was referring: a large bush full of roses that were varying shades of pink.
He walked up slowly to the bush and waited for the children to join him.
“These,” he said, gesturing grandly, “were planted at the request of your grandfather when he and your grandmother got married. In fact, he had them brought in the very day they returned from their honeymoon, as a wedding present.”
Rowena squealed with delight.
“That sounds so romantic,” she said dreamily.
Francis could not help but chuckle.
“Were those her favorite flowers?” Winston asked, studying the beautiful blooms with awe.
“Indeed, they were,” Francis said. “However, your grandfather did not know that there were so many different shades of pink roses when he sought them out. He also did not know which shade of pink your grandmother favored most. So, he had a few of each shade planted for her.”
“Why did he not just ask Grandmother?” Rowena asked.
“Because he wished to surprise her by having them planted,” Francis explained. “If he had asked her, she would have known what he was doing, and it would have ruined the surprise.”
Rowena sighed.
“So romantic,” she repeated.
A few steps ahead, there were some flowers that Caroline had ordered special and had sent from other parts of the world. He walked to them, his heart aching at the memory of her face lighting up as they passed them when they would take strolls through the garden.
“And these,” Francs said, spreading his arms to indicate that he was referring to the entire section of flowers, “were some that your mother wanted.”
The children looked at the flowers with wonder. They both reached up and cradled a few of the budding blooms gently. Rowena leaned down and inhaled deeply of an especially lovely yellow one.
“What are these called?” she asked.
Francis frowned thoughtfully.
“I cannot recall,” he said. “Your mother was the flower aficionado, not I.”
Rowena giggled.
“Silly Papa,” she said.
“What was her favorite?” Winston asked.
Francis smiled wistfully, looking around at all the flowers before them.
“She always said she could never choose a favorite,” he said. “She said she loved them all so much, that they were all her favorites.”
Francis absently plucked a particularly lovely purple one from the stem, recalling how Caroline had loved for him to put a flower from the garden in her hair. He reached for Rowena, and when she came to him, he tucked the purple petaled flower behind her ear.
“How do I look?” Rowena asked, twirling around and giggling.
“Like a silly girl,” Winston teased good-naturedly.
“You look beautiful, Rowena,” Francis said. He noticed again just how much his children reminded him of their mother, and he hastened to usher them from the garden.
As they came back out into the looming shadow of the back of the manor, Rowena stared upward, her eyes wide.
“I did not realize just how big it all is,” she said.
“Did Grandfather have the house built for Grandmother, too?” Winston asked.
“Oh, no,” Francis said. “This house was built by his grandfather, the very first Blackburn in this part of England, many, many years ago.”
“It does not look that old,” Winston mused.
“That is because it has been well-tended and cared for, for as long as it has stood,” Francis said, taking a moment to marvel at the immaculate condition of the home himself.
He knew that all his ancestors before him had taken great pride in Blackburn Manor, but he had never really stopped to appreciate the construction and architecture. It was, indeed, a sight to behold.