by Abby Ayles
Anger suddenly filled Francis, and he barely resisted the urge to scream to the heavens.
Emma moved one of her hands and placed it on his shoulder, but once more, he barely noticed.
“I loathe who I have become since she died,” Francis said. As he spoke the words, he at last felt the truth of them. “I hate the father I have become. I love my children more than anything, but I cannot bring myself to show it. They remind me so much of her, of what I had with her.”
Emma nodded slowly, but once more remained silent.
“I even had half a mind to get into politics, before Caroline died,” he said.
Emma blinked, apparently surprised by the news.
“Why do you not?” she asked.
Francis shook his head.
“After the accident, I stopped caring about almost everything. It feels much like everything that was good and ambitious in me was scooped out when Caroline died. Like the best parts of me died with her. And I can never get that back,” he said, having never felt more resigned in his life.
“And what would Caroline think about that?” Emma asked firmly.
Francis stood gaping at her, shocked.
Chapter 23
Emma had stood and listened to Francis tell the tale about the day Caroline died with a heavy, broken heart.
Of course, she already knew some of the details, after her conversation with Rosaline. But she did not know that Caroline had died in his arms, and no account Rosaline could have ever given would have spoken to the tragedy of the accident like Francis’s own word.
Emma felt many things at once as Francis spoke. She felt terrible remorse for having judged his behavior when she first arrived at Blackburn Manor.
She had known that he was a widower when she began her employment with him, but she had not an inkling about what had happened to his late wife.
While the death of any loved one was always painful, she could not imagine how much more traumatic it would be to watch them die violently and terribly, and so suddenly, right in front of a person. Nor could she imagine how much darker that might make one’s personality.
She could not help the renewed disgust she felt for Francis’s father-in-law. She felt sure that the elderly earl had never seen Francis in such a state, but the man should have been able to guess that Francis was, indeed, terribly emotionally disturbed over his wife’s death, and would not be in a position mentally to even consider remarrying, even if he never saw such displays as the one she was witnessing.
Emma’s heart was also heavily burdened. She cared a great deal about Francis, despite the fact that she should not, could not, and seeing him in such distress that she could not ease made her feel helpless and sad.
She wanted nothing more than to embrace him and hold him as he cried, but she noticed that the cemetery was becoming quite populated, and she knew how inappropriate that would be.
These thoughts also made Emma feel guilty. While Francis obviously did care for her as she did for him, it was quite apparent that he also still dearly missed, and grieved for, his late wife.
Emma felt as though she might be presenting a temptation that was making Francis’s grief worse still than it already was. Or, at the very least, was causing a conflict within himself which he did not understand.
Now, as Francis stood, still staring at her, she remembered that she had spoken. She had not intended to say what she did, and she almost regretted the words.
For a moment, she had no idea what she would say next. However, she knew that Francis needed to hear the truth, no matter how difficult it might be.
She quickly collected herself and thought with care. She had Francis’s attention, and she hoped that the words she summoned would bring him some measure of comfort, and not hurt him more deeply.
Emma held her head higher, squeezing Francis’s hand.
“Would Caroline wish to see you become a man you hate?” she asked.
Francis looked at Emma as though he did not understand what she was saying. She gestured to the headstone with her free hand.
“Caroline loved you, as well,” she continued. “And she would not want to know that you had become so broken after her death, nor that you were so displeased with yourself.”
Emma saw understanding flicker behind Francis’s eyes, and she smiled. He wiped the last of his tears, which were at last beginning to dry, from his face and turned to completely face Emma.
“What do I do?” he asked. Emma’s heart broke a little more at how small and boyish he sounded.
“You become the man you were, the man of whom you were proud, once again,” she said.
Francis stared at her with a mix of confusion and hope.
“But, how?” he asked. “The best parts of me died with Caroline.”
“That is not true at all,” she said, shaking her head. “The best parts of you are within your children.”
Francis shook his head, looking at the ground. Emma could see the gears turning in his mind.
“Caroline helped bring out the good in me,” he said quietly.
“You never needed a wife to bring out any good in you,” Emma said. “If you had, Caroline would have never fallen in love with you in the first place.”
Slowly, Francis looked at Emma with wonder.
“She would have never fallen in love with me,” he echoed.
Emma’s heart began to beat faster. She could see something slowly shifting in Francis, a part of his terrible guilt and grief over Caroline’s finally becoming lighter.
It was as if a dark cloud was at last moving slowly from over Francis’s head, and the shadow it was casting was vanishing as it moved.
“Which means that those good parts were in you all along,” Emma continued. “And, as such, you passed some of those parts on to your kids.”
“But they remind me so much of her,” Francis said, the cloud hanging over him beginning to darken again.
“Of course, they do,” Emma said soothingly. “It is Caroline’s way of reminding you of how much she loved you, and why she was in love with you.”
I should know, Emma added silently. Your showing me that side of you is the very reason why I have fallen in love with you, as well.
Emma mentally winced. This was hardly the time to be thinking such thoughts. Her feelings for Francis may be genuine and pure but standing at the grave of his deceased wife was an entirely inappropriate place to allow those thoughts into her mind.
Francis grabbing both of her hands pulled her from her thoughts.
“You are truly a godsend,” Francis said, his eyes shining. There were no longer tears there, but the brightness there was strange and oddly pleasing.
Emma stared at him, feeling herself blush, unsure of what she should say. As she had while he spoke about Caroline’s death, she chose to remain silent for the moment.
“In fact, I would not be in the least bit surprised if Caroline herself had not sent you to me from her place in heaven,” he continued.
Emma’s cheeks grew hotter. She opened her mouth to protest, but Francis cut her off.
“What I do know is that I have not felt better in months than I have since you came to work for me,” he said. “Nor have the children been so happy.”
Emma’s heart pounded. She had no idea where this conversation would lead, but she felt that she should try to stop it before it went too far. There were, after all, several people almost within earshot.
“It has been a pleasure to be at the service of you and the children,” she said quickly.
Francis smiled slightly and shook his head.
“Do you really not know?” he asked, his voice lilting with disbelief.
Emma believed she did know exactly, but she did not say as much.
“Perhaps we should finish this conversation on the ride back to Blackburn Manor,” she said, glancing purposefully at the people just a few stones away from them.
“To hell with them,” Francis said.
Emma wondered if
he would feel differently about that if they did, in fact, overhear any of the conversations, but she said nothing.
Francis stared at her hard for a few moments, long enough to make Emma feel a bit nervous.
She no longer had any idea what he was about to say or do. Moreover, she was beginning to think that anything he said or did would be alright with her, which she knew was wrong.
She looked back at Francis, not speaking. She was unsure of what to say, and she did not wish to interrupt the therapeutic release of his pent-up emotions.
At last, Francis did continue speaking.
“I know that I have behaved highly inappropriately,” he said. “And, I know that I have apologized for that behavior. But, in the spirit of talking about my feelings, as I have thus far this morning, there is something else that I want… need… to say.”
Emma remained silent, giving Francis a sincere, warm gesture to continue.
“I want to marry you, Emma,” he said.
Emma felt as though she would swoon.
That was the first time he had called her by her first name. He had almost done so in the past, but he had stopped himself. She had never imagined that hearing her name come from his mouth would make her feel as she did then.
She had, indeed, figured out that he cared for her, and this news should have come as no surprise. Yet, hearing Francis say it aloud, and in public, no less, was far different than merely knowing it.
“My lord,” she said, gently but firmly, to remind him of their surroundings.
“I do not give a damn,” Francis said, albeit quieter than he had been speaking. “I must say this. Please, let me.”
Emma glanced around. No one seemed to be paying them any special attention, for which she was relieved. After a moment, she nodded.
“I want to marry you,” Francis repeated. “More than you can possibly imagine. More than you will ever know.”
Once more, Emma felt light-headed. Hearing him speak those words removed any doubt she had had in her heart that his feelings for her were the same as hers were for him.
“As you know, however, I am promised to Rosaline,” he said. “So, I cannot. And you will never know how that breaks my heart.”
“Yes, I will,” Emma said, surprised at the bluntness of her words, but not caring. “Because I already do know.”
Francis wrinkled his brow, looking intensely at her.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I have known for some time that you have feelings for me,” she said. “More than just those for an employee, or a friend.”
Francis’s face turned red.
“I suppose the kiss made that rather apparent,” he said sheepishly.
Emma laughed.
“I should say so,” she said. Then, she grew serious. “And, in truth, I have the same feelings for you, as well.”
For a moment, Francis’s face was brighter than she had ever seen it. He took both of her hands in his and drew her closer. Then, his face darkened once more.
However, he did not pull away. Nor did Emma wish for him to.
“But it cannot be,” Francis repeated, his head falling in defeat.
“I know that, as well,” Emma whispered.
“Then, why do you stay?” Francis asked.
Emma could see the worry beginning to transform his face.
“Because I care for you,” she said. “And I care very much for the children, too. It would not do for me to leave you all unless I am no longer needed.”
Francis looked at Emma again, his face a combination of bewilderment and torment.
“You most certainly are needed,” he said. “We all need you.”
Emma smiled. Something about the affirmation of his words brightened something in her. Perhaps, it would not be so bad if she merely remained the governess. So long as she could stay close to those she loved, maybe she could learn to be happy.
“Then, at Blackburn Manor I shall stay,” she said with a reassuring smile. I need you all, as well, she added silently.
Francis’s eyes began searching her face. It made Emma momentarily uncomfortable.
“I am sorry,” Francis said meekly.
“For what?” she asked.
“For complicating things with these feelings that we cannot entertain,” he said. “For inviting you to return my affections with that kiss, only to wind up having to hurt you in the end.”
Without thinking, Emma stepped forward and gave Francis a gentle kiss on the cheek.
“You have been nothing but honest with me,” she said. “You have not given me any illusions. There is no way you could hurt me.”
Francis watched her face, looking to see that she was telling the truth. Then, he nodded and fell silent.
She, of course, was speaking mostly the truth. She did not believe that Francis himself could ever hurt her, and certainly not when he had just told her that he wanted to marry her.
However, the fact that they could never marry, no matter how much either of them willed it to be, was already hurting her. But she could not bring herself to tell Francis that, especially not in his current, fragile state.
Instead, she took a small step, dropping one of his hands, but squeezing the other one gently. Francis looked at her, and she at him, for several moments. Then, they stood at Caroline’s grave, both silent.
Emma could not read his thoughts, but his face told her that they were very similar to her own. She gave a sigh, stewing about how unfair the entire situation was.
Chapter 24
Francis stood in silence, hand in hand with Emma, at his late wife’s grave, for another half hour.
He believed that Emma meant what she said about him not hurting her. However, he also knew that that would likely change once he married Rosaline, despite Emma’s tough, determined nature.
The more he thought about the circumstances, the more unfair he felt they were. No matter how casual Emma seemed about being unable to marry him, he was far from it.
He truly wanted nothing more than to marry her, and he could not forget the unfairness of it all. Especially since she had admitted that she shared his feelings.
He fervently wished that there was some solution that would save his business, should he refuse to marry Rosaline, so that he could be with Emma. But he knew that if there was another way, he would know of it by then.
Τhe knowledge made him want to succumb to another bout of tears, but he fought to control his emotions.
The ride back to Blackburn Manor was as silent as the trip to the cemetery. However, although the silence was not exactly uncomfortable, it did seem to be a bit sad. Francis felt that it was a testament to Emma’s displeasure to the circumstances, as well as his own, and he wished more than anything he could change it.
Some part of him could not let go of the hope that things would magically change, and he was almost as saddened by that as he was over the trip to the cemetery.
They arrived back at the manor just before dinner time. He helped Emma from the carriage, and only reluctantly released her hand when they reached the front door.
He had a million other things he wished to say to her, but she did not give him the chance to say one. She smiled, warmly but sadly, and excused herself.
“You will be joining us for dinner, won’t you?” Francis asked, not at all ashamed of the hope in his voice.
“Of course,” Emma said, with that same sad, warm smile.
It broke Francis’s heart, and he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and tell her that he cared not about the business arrangement with his father-in-law, that he would marry her, and the rest of the world could be damned.
But he did not. Instead, he watched as Emma ascended the stairs to dress for dinner, and then begrudgingly did the same.
That evening, the kitchen staff had taken it upon themselves to add some extra dessert options. Francis guessed that it was for the children since that day was the anniversary of their mother’s death. He was grateful
for their thoughtfulness.
In fact, he motioned for the attention of Joanna, the woman who served as the head of the kitchen staff, as she came in to help the other staff to serve the extra desserts.
“Thank you,” he whispered when she leaned in so that he could address her.