by Abby Ayles
Emma could not help but chuckle.
“The way he behaved and spoke to me today certainly seems to speak to that ideology,” she said.
“It sounds to me like you will be better off without having to serve that man,” Lydia said. Emma wondered if her friend was feeling the effects of the wine a bit more than her, and she hid a smile.
“Perhaps you are right,” Emma said, not believing that to be true. “But now I am once more without income, and the bills surely have not vanished since I have been away.”
Emma laughed and had expected Lydia to do the same. Instead, however, the wine glaze vanished instantly from her eyes, and her face paled.
“Money is, indeed, still scarce, Miss Baker,” Lydia said. She tried to give Emma a reassuring smile. “But you really should rest this evening. Worry about such things tomorrow.”
Emma wanted to ask just how bad things were, but she knew Lydia was right. If she tried to sort through the finances now, she was apt to go completely mad with hysteria.
More bad news was not what she needed right then. What she needed was more wine, her friend, and a good night’s rest.
“I think I am ready for those cakes now if you do not mind,” Emma said.
Lydia’s face lit up again and she rose from her seat.
“I will be right back,” she said.
A few hours and another bottle of wine later, Emma carefully made her way up the stairs. She felt a bit lightheaded, but she was relieved to realize that she felt a bit numb, too.
Lydia had offered to help her undress for bed, but it seemed that Lydia had enjoyed the wine as much as her, so she dismissed her for the evening.
She supposed that she should have felt ashamed at having drunk so much wine, but she was in her own home, where she could do as she pleased.
Besides, she thought, it seems that I am already a thief. Why not drink a little extra once in a while, as well?
She undressed quickly and climbed into bed, not even bothering with brushing her hair. The feeling of being in her own bed once more was comforting, but it was also another harsh reminder that she had been exiled from Blackburn Manor. And from Francis’s life.
Emma closed her eyes, trying to force away the memories of the day from her mind. She tried in vain, however, and fresh tears soon stung her eyes.
She could not blame Francis for reacting as he did to such terrible crimes, but she did not know if she would ever forget the horrible things that he had said to her.
To her relief, the wine soon took complete hold of her mind, and she drifted off to sleep before the fresh tears could fall.
When Emma awoke, she realized that it was 11 a.m. Lydia must have let her sleep in, and she made a mental note to thank her. She got herself dressed and went straight into her office, leaving the door open.
She could see the large stacks of papers on the desk, and she heaved a heavy sigh. She knew that hoping things were even slightly better than she feared would be useless, so she sat in her chair and began looking through the bills.
It turned out that she had been right to be so pessimistic. Things were not just as bad as she had feared, they were much worse. She cursed Lucius and vowed to do whatever it took to force him to rectify his wrongs.
Emma laughed bitterly to herself. What could she do about it? Marcus would likely be the one who would have to handle the situation, and he might not live through the end of the year.
A tinkling sound distracted Emma. She looked up to see Lydia, pale but smiling slightly and carrying a tray of food and coffee. Emma smiled gratefully.
“Good morning, Lydia,” Emma said.
“Good morning, Miss Baker,” Lydia said. She placed the tray on the one clean corner of the desk, her gaze dancing between Emma’s face and the stacks of bills.
“Yes, I have seen how dire the situation is,” Emma said morosely. “But I believe that I will do more worrying about it after breakfast.”
Lydia relaxed and her smile broadened.
“Well, here it is,” she said. “I shall return shortly to take your tray and help you in whatever way I can.”
“Thank you very much,” Emma said, smiling warmly at her friend.
After Lydia departed, Emma pulled the tray toward her and began to eat. The coffee was bitter and the food bland, but Emma was grateful, nonetheless. She had hardly eaten three bites before Lydia rushed back into the room.
“I have barely had a chance to enjoy your thoughtful meal, Lydia,” Emma jested. Her smile froze on her face, however. Lydia’s face was both worried and angry.
“Miss Baker,” Lydia said. “Mr. Rowley is here to speak with you.”
Emma nearly choked on the bite she had not yet swallowed.
How dare that man show his face in her home? Furthermore, how did he even know that she was home already? She had not yet been to see him again since leaving Blackburn Manor.
Emma’s stomach dropped and she could feel her face getting hot.
“Should I send him away?” Lydia asked.
Emma shook her head.
“No,” she sighed. “I might as well get this over with now.”
Lydia hesitated for a moment longer, and Emma thought that she might try to talk her out of speaking with that snake. At last, however, Lydia nodded and walked out the door.
A moment later, Lucius was walking into her study, without Lydia. Emma frowned at him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked coldly.
“Why, we have the matter of your finances to discuss,” Lucius said with a sly smile.
“I mean, what are you doing here, in my house?” Emma asked, clenching her teeth. “How did you know that I was back home?”
“Does it matter?” Lucius asked, his smile growing slimier.
“What do you want?” Emma asked.
“I believe that we had an understanding, you and I,” Lucius said, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Yes, well, consider the deal off,” she said. “I am no longer in Lord Ashfield’s employ.”
Lucius nodded, disinterested.
“Yes, such a pity about that,” he said. “But that does not release you from your end of the bargain.”
“Bargain, indeed,” Emma said, laughing dryly. “It would seem as though I got no sort of fair share in this bargain of yours.”
Lucius echoed her laugh.
“That is immaterial to me,” Lucius said. “You will do as I have asked of you, or I will tell everyone you know about your brother and your improper interactions with the Earl.”
“How can I steal from a man for whom I do not work?” Emma asked, incredulous at Lucius’s seeming obliviousness at the situation.
“You will find work with another family,” Lucius said. “And then you will steal from them.”
Emma stared at him.
“Once Lord Ashfield has had his say, no respectable family will ever hire me,” she said. She blanched as she spoke the words, just then realizing how true they were.
“That is not my problem now, is it, Miss Baker?” Lucius said, practically bursting at the seams with his gloating.
“And what if I refuse?” Emma asked.
She already knew, of course, but she hoped that if she sounded tough and unafraid, maybe Lucius would rethink his course of action.
“Save the bravado,” Lucius said, turning to leave. “I will oust you and your brother, and believe me, your finances can get much worse than they are. It would be a shame for Marcus to die just because you were not willing to do anything to save him.”
Without another word, Lucius left the room. Emma wanted to throw something at the back of his smug head, but she could not. Instead, as soon as she heard the sound of the front door closing behind him, she began to cry into her unfinished breakfast.
Lucius was right. She could pretend to be brave, but she had no choice but to do as he demanded.
***
The next day, Lydia roused Emma from bed, holding a letter excitedly. Emma opened it a
nd read it, the contents quickly dragging her from her groggy state. It was from Rosaline, and she was inviting Emma to come for tea in two days.
“Thank you, Lydia,” Emma said, her blood rushing in her ears.
Lydia nodded and left Emma to her thoughts.
She was completely unsure of what to think. Was Rosaline convinced that Emma was a thief, as well? Was this some sort of trap?
Emma did not want to think so ill of a woman who had treated her so kindly, but after what Francis had done to her, she wondered if she could trust anyone.
When the date came, however, she quickly made herself ready and traveled to Rosaline’s home.
Emma saw a carriage already sitting out front and her heart stopped. Who else was here? Should she tell the carriage driver to take her back home, and fast?
To her surprise, however, Marcus walked out of the front door and walked to the carriage to greet her.
Emma’s mouth fell open as she got a good look at her brother. His face had a pleasant, pink color. His eyes were clear and more brilliant than they had been in months. Even his gait had a cheerful bounce to it.
He looked much like the same man he had been before he got sick.
Marcus practically lifted her from the carriage and pulled her into a hug. Emma stood, stunned into silence. Now she really could not understand what was happening.
Why was Marcus at Rosaline’s house? And how did he look so much healthier?
“Well?” Marcus asked. “Are you going to greet me, little sister?”
Emma let out a shocked laugh.
“Marcus?” she asked, amazed, studying her brother’s healthy appearance and boyish expression.
“I certainly hope so,” Marcus teased. “Otherwise, someone made a terrible mistake before I awoke this morning.”
Emma hugged her brother again, laughing. Marcus led her inside Rosaline’s house, walking arm in arm with her.
Rosaline was waiting just inside the entryway. Emma froze, having temporarily forgotten her earlier fears at seeing Marcus so happy and looking terrific. Now, Emma held her breath, frozen to the spot.
Rosaline stepped toward Emma. Before she could say a word, Rosaline hugged her almost as fiercely as Marcus had.
“It is so good to see you,” Rosaline said warmly. “Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for inviting me,” Emma said. “But I must admit that I am terribly confused.”
“Why?” Rosaline asked, looking puzzled.
“Well,” Emma began. “I assumed that you would have spoken to Francis after… I left…” Emma trailed off.
Should she have said anything just yet? What if Rosaline really did not know what had happened, and thought Emma as guilty as Francis had once Emma explained it to her?
Emma looked to her brother for a cue, but he was looking at the floor. Emma thought that his face was growing red, but she could not tell for sure.
“Emma,” Rosaline said softly. “You do not honestly think me capable of believing that you are thief, do you?”
Emma stared at her, hardly believing her ears.
“You believe that I am innocent?” she asked, bewildered.
“I know that you are,” Rosaline said, smiling warmly. “Now, enough of that nonsense. Come into the drawing room and have some cake and tea with us.”
Emma let Rosaline and Marcus usher her into the drawing room. Once everyone was seated and had been served the cake and tea, Emma looked at the two of them. She noticed that they were sitting awfully close, and both were all smiles.
“So, Marcus, you look very well,” Emma said, not hiding her amazement. “How do you feel?”
“Like a new man,” Marcus said, beaming.
“But, how?” Emma asked. She winced at her lack of articulation, but the shock was profound.
Rosaline and Marcus shared a smile.
“I have been helping Marcus get better,” Rosaline said.
Emma stared at her, unsure whether she should hug her or gently shake the answers out of her. For the time being, however, she settled on merely being pleased that her brother looked so well.
“I am still not completely cured,” Marcus said. “But the doctor now believes that I just might recover, with just a bit more time.”
Tears of joy filled Emma’s eyes, and this time she did hug both Marcus and Rosaline, both of whom laughed with delight.
“Thank you, Rosaline,” Emma said. “I do not know what you have done, but you may well have saved my brother’s life.”
Rosaline giggled and blushed.
“Well, in truth, Marcus has done much of it himself,” she said, sneaking another glance at Marcus. “Oh, I almost forgot. Please, excuse me for a moment,” Rosaline said, rising from her seat and leaving the room.
Marcus watched her leave, then leaned into Emma.
“If I do recover fully,” he said, barely louder than a whisper, “I plan to make Rosaline my wife. I cannot thank you enough for introducing us.”
Emma stared at Marcus, in complete shock.
“How?” she asked. “She is supposed to marry Francis.”
“I do not care,” Marcus said defiantly. “I care for Rosaline, and I intend to marry her. She is half of the reason that I have fought so hard to stay healthy. I want the future I could have with her.”
“But what about the money?” Emma asked.
She did not wish to burden Marcus with all the awful events of the last few days. But she also did not want him to build any false hope.
“As you apparently know, I no longer work for Lord Ashfield.”
“And what an utter fool he is,” Marcus muttered. “As for the money and that snake, Lucius, we will deal with him later, once I’ve had a little more time to recover. I will make sure that you never have to deal with our family’s finances again.”
Emma looked at Marcus’s optimistic, determined expression and she could not help smiling. She was glad that he was getting back to himself so quickly, but she was acutely aware of the fresh sadness creeping into her heart.
Being back in Rosaline’s home and sitting with Marcus reminded her of the last time she had seen the two of them. Then, she had still been Francis’s governess and had been falling happily in love with him.
Now, she was banished from his home and would never be trusted by him ever again. She couldn’t help but think that, perhaps, if she had just told Francis about Marcus, none of the events would have gone as badly as they did.
Looking at Marcus’s smitten face, she felt a pang of both sadness and fear.
What if she never loved anyone the way she loved Francis? Even if her family regained their respectable status in the ton, it was possible that none of those men would ever strike the same feelings within her that Francis did.
“Would you like some wine?” Rosaline asked brightly as she reentered the room, pulling Emma from her melancholy.
Emma looked at her friend and focused on suppressing her sad thoughts, for the sake of them both.
Chapter 32
The day after his trip with the children, he went back into town.
He was still not ready to face his father-in-law, but he knew he could not put off this conversation any longer. The fate of his business hung in Grant Brentwood’s hands, and it would not do for him to be foolish.
Grant himself greeted him as soon as he walked inside.
“Good morning, Lord Ashfield,” he said jovially. “Right on time.”
Francis hated that the man seemed to already know that Francis was trapped and that he had won. He forced a smile and bowed to the elderly man.
“Thank you for your understanding about the delay in my seeing you,” Francis said.
“You are here now,” Grant said, his voice sounding very pleased with himself. “That is all that matters. Come, let us go to my office.”
Francis followed, silently reluctant. He wracked his brain, trying to think of any way to plead out of marrying Rosaline. Even if he only bought himself a little more t
ime, perhaps he could find a way to help himself out of the arrangement, without costing his business much-needed resources.
Even though he no longer had any intention of marrying Emma, he was still no more willing to marry Rosaline. Moreover, he knew that Rosaline did not wish to marry him.
“Please, sit,” Grant said, gesturing warmly to an empty chair.