by Abigail Agar
Nevertheless, Emma wanted to support her friend. She was also worried that Amelia might behave irresponsibly in her distress and drink too much. Her thoughts were with accompanying Amelia and she finally agreed.
“Yes, that sounds all right to me,” she said.
Once they finished their work, Amelia led Emma to a tavern near their tenements. Emma had never been inside a tavern before, but she tried not to let that show.
As they entered, she saw a number of men and women laughing, drinking, enjoying their time. It did not appear to be quite the den of sin that she had often heard about, but she also knew that there could be many things going on around her to which she was naive.
They took two of the only empty seats left in the whole place, very close to a group of men on one side and with only a few women on the other. The ladies looked at Amelia and Emma as though they were far too young and childish to be in that place. At least, that was how Emma interpreted it. She only hoped that she might be wrong about the disgust in their eyes.
“Do you see that?” Amelia giggled.
“What?” Emma asked.
“All of the women are angry because the men are looking at us now. I think we are the most beautiful young ladies in the whole pub,” Amelia said.
Emma glanced around, realising that they really were being watched by the men. Now it made sense why the women were looking at them like that. She was suddenly very embarrassed, and her cheeks turned red.
“Why are you looking so shy? Indulge it,” Amelia said.
It was not shyness that led Emma to the feeling that she had. It was shame. She knew that she did not belong in that place and the other women knew it as well. She also didn’t like being under the scrutiny of all of those men. She knew nothing about them. Only that they were in the tavern to drink. Whatever else was beyond her.
Amelia got them each a mug of ale. Emma had never had it before and she was nervous to try it. Her family was hardly against a bit of drink now and then, but they would have been shocked to see her there.
Amelia enjoyed the mug and Emma took a delicate sip and immediately decided that she would have no more. She disliked the bitter, doughy taste of it.
“You don’t like it?” Amelia asked.
“I am afraid not. Sorry, I know that you would have preferred me to be all manner of excitement here this evening,” Emma said.
“Worry not, my friend. You have just made my night far grander,” Amelia said, grabbing Emma’s drink once she finished her own.
“You ought not to have so much so quickly. You will be sick,” Emma warned.
“I shall be fine. I do not come out like this in general, but what is one evening among many?” Amelia asked.
But halfway through Emma’s ale, Amelia was already appearing defeated. It was a relief as it meant that she would not continue and be even more reckless.
“Ugh, I feel awful,” Amelia said as they walked.
“I am sure that you do. You are far too thin to have that much drink. Have you ever had ale before?” Emma asked.
Amelia looked at her with her face distorted and Emma knew instantly that the answer was no. Although Amelia had tried to be cavalier about it, she was just as inexperienced as Emma.
“Well, we are going to get you home and you shall be fine,” Emma promised.
Amelia nodded and they continued on their way.
“Do you really think my brother looks like me?” Amelia asked.
Emma nodded.
“Yes, he really does. Does it bother you very much?” she asked in reply.
“Yes. His friend was very handsome though, don’t you think?” Amelia continued.
Emma grinned at this. Amelia had drunk enough that she was even willing to confess an attraction to a wealthy man who was friends with the brother that she very much hated. That was something that Emma thought she would never see.
“Maybe, I did not look too closely at him, but yes, he appeared handsome,” Emma said.
“I saw that you were looking at him. My brother,” Amelia said, the last word sounding like a curse on her tongue.
“I was only surprised by his resemblance to you,” Emma said.
It was a lie. She had been greatly attracted to him. Sure, he had some resemblance to Amelia, but the masculine chin, the nose, the cheeks, that deep and velvety voice? Those were all him. The broad shoulders were strong and sure. The look in his eyes spoke of his passion and intrigue.
He was a bold man, much like Amelia. But they were bold in different ways. Where Amelia was brash and even harsh, unashamed and often coarse, her brother was soft and confident. Amelia was amusing to be around and she was a loyal confidante, but Emma could see that her brother was kinder and more determined to use his strength with a purpose.
“You were staring at him a lot. It was not only because of the resemblance,” Amelia finally said.
“My dear Amelia, it would be a betrayal to you to have seen anything different in him. Whoever he may be, whatever kind of man he is, I would not allow myself to consider him as anything other than the son of the man who hurt you and your mother so deeply,” Emma said, frightened by her own words.
But Amelia seemed to be appeased. She relaxed her shoulders and Emma continued to lead her along towards her home.
Emma may not have wanted to make such a commitment against finding the man interesting, but she also had to confess that she did not quite trust him. If he was anything like his father, perhaps Amelia was not blinded by bitterness. Perhaps the man really was all that bad and only appeared kind because he wanted to meet his sister.
“Here we are,” Emma said, arriving at the tenements where Amelia lived.
“Thank you. You can get home?” Amelia asked.
“Yes, yes, of course. It’s only just up the road,” Emma said.
With that, she watched Amelia go inside and she made the final jaunt towards her own home.
In the dark it was a little bit frightening. She had walked the streets many times at night, but it never grew any more peaceful. Not when there were many men and women who had just come from their own outings to the taverns and were drunk in the alleyways.
She had heard that London was so much worse than this, but it was difficult enough to navigate.
When Emma reached her own home, she found her mother and father seated at the table, just finishing up their dinner.
“Oh! There you are. Why are you back so late?” her mother asked.
“It was quite a strange day. One that left Amelia rather distraught and in need of some company. So I accompanied her out for a short time,” Emma said.
“Out?” her mother asked with concern.
“Do not worry, Mother. We went to the tavern, but I had nothing. I only went to ensure that she did not have too much and then to help her back to her home,” Emma explained.
“That is very well, you are a kind and loyal friend. But, Emma, you must consider your own reputation,” her mother said with a sigh.
“She is right, Emma. You ought not to be seen in a place like that,” her father echoed.
“Yes, I know. I am sorry, I was just worried for her. Anyway, we left shortly after arriving and I returned Amelia to her home without incident,” she said.
“I am glad that you are both safe. Are you hungry? There is bread over there,” her mother said.
Emma looked to the table where the loaves of bread sat. Too many loaves.
“There were not many people today?” she asked.
“No, sadly there were not. I think some of these bakers are going to put me out of business,” her mother replied.
Emma’s mother worked hard to bake bread and sell it in the town during the day. She was a wonderful baker. To know that she was not making ends meet through the sale was difficult and Emma wished that there was something that she could do that might help her family.
“And Father? How was work?” she asked.
“Very well, very well. The bookshop has asked me to const
ruct some lovely new shelves. I think that it will be a very good income for us,” he said.
For that she was happy. At least her father had some work. His carpentry was known around Finchley after he had been noticed by a nobleman who had him create a number of pieces for his new estate.
Emma hoped that their family’s fortunes would improve, but there really was no saying when or how that might happen.
But even with the changes that they were facing, she could have hope. Eventually, everything would turn out to be all right.
Chapter 7
Uncertain of his next steps, but trying to discern them, Eric decided to go for a walk the next morning.
The town was quiet as most people were still resting. It was not a workday and Eric was glad that things were peaceful. He needed a bit of peace for his weary heart.
He was making his way towards the edge of the town where it was quite beautiful. There were rolling green hills ahead, dotted with estates that belonged to the grandest and finest of his fellow nobility.
Since becoming the Earl of Thornbury, Eric had tried to hold a high regard for his duties and responsibilities, but there were times when he felt that it was all quite pointless. He could not understand why his parentage mattered in the least. After all, who was he to have any say in the matters of England?
But his father had been different. His father had taken great pride in his status within the royal kingdom. And if Eric had known anything about his father, it was the fact that the late Earl of Thornbury was a man who sought his own happiness above the happiness of others.
Amelia had been a victim of that. But it appeared that she had chosen to remain as such.
As the thought of his sister crossed his mind, Eric was shocked to see her just across the way, walking with Miss Sproul.
Although he knew that his sister had to take priority in his attentions, he was mesmerised by the way that Miss Sproul strode across the ground, her figure small and graceful. Her black hair reflecting the morning sun back at the sky.
He could not take his eyes off her.
But even then Eric knew his priority. He made his way over to them without being noticed and finally caught up behind them.
“Amelia,” he said, just a short way back.
The two young women turned and saw him. Instantly, they struck rather defensive positions.
“Please, I was just out for a walk. I saw the two of you,” he said, holding his hands up slightly so that they could see he was no threat to them. He tried to speak as soothingly as he was able.
“Why are you still here? Surely you live in London or Brighton or somewhere that your sort enjoy,” Amelia said.
“I do live in London, but I am still here,” Eric said.
“Why? I told you to leave,” Amelia said.
Eric paused and nodded, looking down for a moment.
“Yes, yes, you did tell me to go. But I did not even introduce myself. I told you that I am your brother, but I do not know if you are aware of anything about me at all,” Eric said.
“I do not care to know you,” she replied.
“Well, I should like to know you. Thus far, I know that your name is Amelia Lockhart. My name is Eric Price,” he said.
“Followed by some fancy title, no doubt?” Amelia asked with an attitude.
“Your mother did not even tell you the name of your father?” he asked.
“She did not need to for I did not care to know,” Amelia replied.
“May I tell you anyway? He was not a perfect man by any means, but you ought to know who he was,” Eric said.
Amelia sighed and crossed her arms.
“His name was Frederick Price. He was the Earl of Thornbury. A flawed man, to be sure. He lost his life after the past few years of enjoying his vices. But he was our father, nevertheless,” Eric explained.
“He was not my father. He was yours. For me, he was simply the man who abandoned us,” Amelia said.
“Yes, I suppose he was. It was a very bad thing for him to do,” Eric said.
“Then you must understand that I wish nothing more on the matter than to forget it. To forget him and to forget you. Now, go,” she said.
“I want to have a relationship with you. You are my sister,” he said, taking a step forward.
Amelia responded by taking a step back and once more Miss Sproul appeared to be caught in their midst.
“I spoke with my mother already, you know. I told her about you and she confessed not having been honest about your birth in order to protect me from you. But we spoke of a great deal more than that,” she said in a threatening way.
“What do you mean? What else did you speak of?” Eric asked.
“We decided that if you will not leave us alone, if you will not leave me alone, we shall have no choice but to destroy your reputation and that of your father. We will tell everyone about the scandal. Everyone will know that your father got my mother pregnant and then your mother sent her away,” Amelia said.
“My mother did not even know that she was pregnant, she only suspected the affair,” Eric said.
“It doesn’t matter what your mother knew or did not know. Your father abandoned us, and his reputation ought to have been treated just the same as my mother’s,” she said.
Eric realised that, once more, he was not going to win with Amelia. She was hardly going to back down and she wanted him gone.
But his idealism was always getting him into trouble, and he figured there was no reason to stop it now.
“I do not care about my reputation. Do you think that matters to me? Do you think that this title matters to me? You are my sister. You are the one that matters to me and I want to be close to you. My reputation means nothing in light of the chance to know you,” Eric said, determined.
All was quiet for a moment before Amelia looked up at him with a slow, cold intent.
“I told you to go and I meant it,” she said.
Eric was all too surprised when he saw Miss Sproul place a hand upon her friend’s arm in an effort to calm her.
“Amelia,” she said quietly. “It is not his fault, you know. He is not your fath –”
“What do you know about it?” Amelia asked in an angry whisper, turning on Miss Sproul to silence her.
Miss Sproul blanched at the hiss.
“This is not your concern, Emma. This has nothing to do with you. I know that we are friends and you worry for me, but this is not your concern,” Amelia said, trying to get her point through.
Eric could see how it wounded Miss Sproul to be on the other side of this anger, but he also saw her loyalty towards Amelia.
However, she surprised him once more.
Amelia turned to leave and Eric’s heart broke. But Miss Sproul did not immediately follow as he had expected that she would. Thus far, he had seen the way that she remained in the background.
Despite her beauty, he really knew nothing else about her. He could not say if she was kind or shy or brave or humble. There was nothing that had told him about who she was as a person.