Emma: There's No Turning Back

by Linda Mitchelmore

  ‘You have a lovely daughter,’ Caunter said, when Seth was slow to respond. ‘I can see she’s a Jago.’

  But not a Le Goff? Is that what you’re trying to say? Do you know? And if you do, who told you? Emma? Or someone else?

  ‘That’s because she is a Jago,’ Seth said. ‘What was it you wanted to see me about?’ He kept his hand on the front door key in his pocket. He prayed Emma wasn’t in, although he prayed equally as hard that she was.

  ‘Not about, what,’ Matthew said. ‘About whom. But what I have to say can’t be said out here on the doorstep.’

  ‘Emma?’ Seth said.

  ‘No.’ Matthew took a step nearer Seth. ‘Your brother,’ he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. ‘Miles. Now can I come in?’

  Emma hadn’t been to Crystal Cove in a long time. Not since the night she and Seth had made love there; the first time they had, in fact. But she felt drawn to the place now.

  After their awkward conversation last night, they’d made love – at her request, she knew that, and she wasn’t proud of the fact she’d only asked him in the hope he would make her pregnant and she’d have to stay with him to give their child a stable home.

  But it hadn’t been the same. And they’d both known it. Emma had lain awake in the darkness, flat on her back, her arms by her side instead of curled into Seth as she had always done before after lovemaking. Seth, his arm not quite touching hers, had lain beside her. She’d been pretty sure he hadn’t been asleep either.

  Seth had insisted she should lie in for an hour. He’d get up and get his own breakfast, he’d said. He’d offered to bring Emma a cup of tea but she’d said no, she didn’t want one. All she wanted was to sleep for a little longer. An hour would be enough.

  She’d heard Seth on the landing, talking to Lily, and she’d heard Fleur say, ‘Mama!’ quite loudly – loudly enough that Emma had put her hands over her ears.

  If she left Seth then she might never see Fleur again. Never hear her say, ‘Je t’aime, Mama. J’aime Papa.’

  And then Emma had fallen asleep. And for a lot longer than an hour. When eventually she woke and went downstairs, she found a note from Lily Richardson saying Seth had paid her off handsomely as her services were no longer required – And I’m not bothered because it was a toss-up between here and the Baileys at Churston Manor who’ve been begging me to work for them, so I’ve got somewhere to go.

  Seth, so Lily had said in her note, had left with Fleur. Lily didn’t know where. And Seth had left Emma no message as to when he’d be back.

  Emma had eaten a slice of bread with some curd cheese for lunch, and half an apple, but it had all tasted of nothing. She’d made a cup of tea and then another, and both had tasted bitter and were cold before she’d got around to drinking them. And still Seth hadn’t returned.

  Seth had left her, hadn’t he? And taken Fleur. She wondered how long she would be able to go on living at Mulberry House before a letter arrived from a solicitor telling her she’d have to leave.

  And for what? For dancing closer than she ought with Matthew Caunter? For laying her heart on her sleeve in a ballroom in front of sixty-four other people? For Matthew Caunter who had once had told her he was dangerous to know and who might – for all she knew – be on his way back to America at this very moment?

  Emma hoped Seth might have brought Fleur to Crystal Cove. But his car hadn’t been parked on the headland, and there was no sign of him. Nor anyone else for that matter, now that she’d walked down the steps onto the beach.

  How could she have been so cruel to Seth? After all he’d done for her. After all the love he’d so generously given her. And not only that, he hadn’t, even once, grumbled about driving her all over the place with her orders before she’d learned to drive properly herself.

  Emma pulled her coat more tightly around her and turned up the collar at the back of her neck. It had been a mild and very sunny day for February – as it often was in this part of Devon – but the light was dropping now. She’d spoken the truth last night when she’d told Seth she’d felt half empty inside when waiting for him to turn up at Nase Head House. Fear had rippled through her more than once that something had happened to him – that he, too, was to be taken from her life as so many of those she’d loved had been taken already. And she’d spoken the truth when she’d said she loved him. Wasn’t it loving someone to miss them when they weren’t with you, as much as it was to be full of joy when they were?

  And it couldn’t be love she felt for Matthew, not so soon. Her love for Seth had grown as they’d grown, wrapping itself around them both in the same way bindweed wraps itself around anything in its path.

  What a surprise she’d had when Seth had given her the painting he’d done of her. Was that all she’d have of him now, if he had left her? The house and everything in it was Seth’s. They weren’t married – not that she’d have any rights to anything even if they were. Her jewellery, she imagined, she’d be able to keep. And her clothes and shoes. Just thinking these things scared her, chilled her. As though she’d accepted she’d never see Seth again. She couldn’t imagine life without him and didn’t want to.

  Emma put her head in her hands.

  ‘Oh, Seth. Oh, Seth. Come back to me,’ she whispered.

  And then she heard footsteps. Seth? She hoped so. She’d seen sense now. She turned towards the sound, looked up.

  But it wasn’t Seth coming down the steps to the beach. It was Matthew.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘I thought I might find you here,’ Matthew shouted down to her, before Emma could find her voice.

  He carried on walking down the steps. No, not walking – more like swaggering if it were possible to swagger down steps. He was taking them two at a time, in a sort of lope that showed off his broad shoulders and the length of his muscular legs, as though he couldn’t wait to get to her. The breeze was blowing the hair back off his forehead and the sun, low in the sky at this time of year, gave his skin the appearance of a light tan. As he reached the bottom step, the red sandstone cliffs seemed to glow around him like a halo. He looked health personified.

  But he wasn’t smiling and a shiver of something – fear about what he might say or do? – prickled the hairs on the back of Emma’s neck.

  ‘And I was right,’ Matthew said, reaching her at last. ‘Here you are.’

  Still, the expression on his face showed no delight in seeing her. Concern perhaps, but not the joy she had been expecting after the kiss he’d given her in the kitchen at Nase Head House. Perhaps it was just a kiss to him, much as he might have given many other women in his life, and nothing special. Perhaps it had been the champagne talking that had made him say the things he had. But that dance … Oh, that dance! She hadn’t imagined all that, surely? Seeing him now was bringing it all back.

  Emma sucked her cheeks in and nodded, not knowing what to say. How stupid I must look, she thought – like one of the old folks up at Mount Stuart who sit in their chairs all day nodding and dribbling, saying nothing.

  The uncomfortable truth was that she didn’t want to speak in case she said too much, laid bare her heart before Matthew. Yes, her heart was saying, I have feelings for you I ought not to have, but do, because I also love Seth with all my heart. Don’t make me choose between you because I don’t honestly think I can at this moment. Everything is all too soon. Too new.

  Emma remained rooted to the spot.

  ‘Well, this is a first,’ Matthew said. ‘Emma Le Goff with no quick repartee.’

  Emma didn’t even bother to correct him – Emma Jago, not Emma Le Goff – because it wouldn’t surprise her to learn he knew her secret.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting you,’ Emma said. ‘I’d hoped it was Seth. He—’

  ‘He left the house while you were sleeping,’ Matthew interrupted. It was, Emma thought, as though he wanted to save her the pain of saying she thought Seth had left her. And taken Fleur. ‘He gave the nursemaid her notice. He went to see Mr Underwood. He
went to the solicitor and other places. He didn’t leave you a note to tell you any of that.’

  ‘You’re spying on us!’ A flush spread up the sides of Emma’s neck; she was certain now that when Matthew had lived in the town, working undercover for His Majesty’s Customs, it had been his job to spy, and he could well have seen her and Seth coming here to Crystal Cove. Making love here.

  ‘Just doing my job,’ Matthew said.

  ‘Your job? What is your job if it isn’t spying?’

  ‘Ah, the old Emma. Questioning everything.’ Matthew smiled then for the first time since his arrival.

  ‘Stop teasing me.’

  ‘I’m not. I’m just speaking the truth.’

  Emma made a noise like a snorting horse – she knew it made her sound unladylike but she didn’t care. She’d misread all the things about Matthew she thought she’d read and now she felt more than a little foolish. Foolish and cross. Matthew was making her feel sixteen again and she wasn’t. She was nineteen now, for goodness’ sake. A woman. A woman who ran her own business. A woman who, oh dammit, a woman whose heart was telling her she liked this man standing in front of her more than she ought, seeing as she’d told the man she’d been living with that she loved him, too, and not so long ago. Well, Matthew Caunter could spy on her person all he wanted to, but he couldn’t spy on her feelings, could he?

  ‘So,’ Emma said, folding her arms in front of her, ‘how do you know all those things about Seth?’

  ‘Because I’ve just been to see him.’

  Emma unfolded her arms rapidly and put her hands in front of her mouth. She hadn’t expected him to say that.

  ‘Oh,’ she mumbled through her fingers. She took her hands away from her face. ‘I can’t imagine he was pleased to see you. You know … after that dance we had. You and me, I mean. Not me and Seth.’

  ‘I know exactly which dance you mean, Emma,’ Matthew said. ‘That particular dance will remain with me forever. But to apologise for dancing too close to his wife wasn’t why I went to see Seth.’

  ‘I know you’re going to rib me for saying this, but … it wasn’t?’

  ‘You’re so deliciously easy to rib, to tease, Emma Le Goff,’ Matthew said. ‘But that’s not my mission at the moment. Seth didn’t punch me on the nose for taking liberties with you, if that’s what might be concerning you.’

  ‘It isn’t,’ Emma said.

  Seth had punched his bully brothers a time or two, but settling things with his fists wasn’t Seth’s way.

  Part of her was relieved that Seth was back at Mulberry House. And Fleur? Matthew hadn’t mentioned her.

  ‘Was our daughter with Seth when you called?’

  ‘Seth’s daughter was there, yes. Fleur. Pretty name. I gather you chose it?’

  So, he knows Fleur’s not my child. Emma wasn’t going to give Matthew the satisfaction of letting him know she’d guessed that.

  ‘I did.’

  And then it struck her that perhaps Caroline had sent him to take custody of Fleur.

  ‘You’re not here as some undercover something or other to take Fleur from Seth, are you? I know you … you’ve had another agenda in coming here other than being Mr Smythe’s groomsman. And don’t look at me like that, I do know you. You’ve been paid to take Fleur back to Mrs Prentiss, haven’t you? If you have, please don’t. Oh, please don’t.’ Emma said, her words rushing out in a tumble. ‘I’ll give you twice whatever it is she’s paying you, not to. It would break Seth’s heart to lose Fleur now. Really it would.’

  ‘Ah, so my hunch is right. Fleur isn’t your daughter. And in one sentence you’ve also confirmed what, since being given this case, I’ve suspected about the woman who gave birth to her.’

  Emma gulped in air so quickly – shocked and angry that Matthew had just set a trap and she’d fallen right into it, in the way wasps are stupid enough to fall into a jar filled with jam and water and set to drown them when the fruits are ripe – she thought it was going to choke her.

  She coughed. ‘You … you … tricked me into … saying that.’

  She coughed some more and Matthew leaned an arm around her and patted her on the back.

  ‘Don’t touch me!’ she yelled at him. And the yelling made her cough and splutter even more.

  ‘I can’t leave you to choke to death, can I?’ He patted her some more and the choking feeling left her.

  ‘It might be as well,’ Emma said.

  ‘No it wouldn’t. I’d never get to dance with you again if I did.’

  All Emma’s fire and anger went out of her then with his words. Matthew had felt the same for her as she had for him. She walked towards a boulder that was just the right size for sitting on, terrified that the jelly feeling in her legs would get the better of her and she’d never make it that short distance.

  Matthew followed. He sat down beside her. There was just the narrowest of gaps between them, but they didn’t touch. ‘Much as I’d like nothing more than to dance with you every night for the rest of our lives, that isn’t why I’m here.’

  Matthew reached for her hand and clasped it and Emma let him, too shocked by the suddenness of the movement, his closeness, to whisk her hand away. ‘Hear me out, Emma, please.’

  She nodded.

  ‘You were right just now to accuse me of spying. Although it wasn’t you in particular that I was spying on. Seth told me you might be here and asked me to come and find you. Fleur was fractious, so he’s put her to bed and can’t leave her. He said this was your special place – his and yours – and that you both come here when you have things to talk about … think about.’

  ‘He said that?’ And when Matthew shook his head mock-crossly and put a finger to his lips, she said, ‘Sorry. I won’t interrupt or question you again.’

  ‘And the Pope will marry one day,’ Matthew said, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘In America I’m what they call a private investigator. I work for whoever needs my services: cuckolded husbands looking for their wives; abandoned wives looking for their husbands, wanting financial support for the children of the marriage; the tax department looking for evaders; fraudsters who take on aliases one after the other to cheat people out of property and money; authorities looking for escaped prisoners. So—’

  ‘Miles! I knew it! This has got something to do with him, hasn’t it?’

  ‘You showed exemplary restraint there, Emma. I managed to get at least four sentences out before you interrupted. But yes. My reason for being here, on this beach sitting on a boulder holding your hand at the moment, is Miles Jago.’

  ‘Please, please tell me he wasn’t in prison for killing someone else. And that he didn’t kill someone when he escaped.’

  ‘He wasn’t in prison in America for killing anyone. And he hasn’t killed anyone escaping from it. There, does that make you feel a little better?’ Matthew tilted his head to one side and studied her. She nodded.

  ‘Yes. A little.’

  ‘Good.’

  Matthew raised Emma’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, then he placed it in her lap and let go and she felt bereft, abandoned – as though she’d been given the best Christmas present of her life and then had it taken away again.

  ‘Always happy to oblige a lady, Emma.’ Matthew’s eyes crinkled at the corners. He knew what that kiss had done to her, didn’t he?

  ‘This isn’t funny.’

  ‘Did I say it was?’

  ‘No, but if Miles wasn’t in prison for killing someone, why was he there?’

  ‘Fraud. Embezzlement. Obtaining money by false pretences.’

  ‘Under an alias?’ Emma asked.

  ‘Of course. He’s had many aliases. It’s not been easy for the authorities to keep tabs on him.’

  ‘There or here,’ Emma said. ‘And he bought his way out of prison.’

  A fact, not a question.

  ‘Ah, good to see you’re still sharp as a tack, Emma. Yes, he did. That or someone else bought his way out for hi
m.’

  With money Seth had given Caroline? Too much money, Emma thought, could be more trouble to you than not having enough, couldn’t it? There was more opportunity to do bad things with money she was fast realising, and the last thing she wanted in all this was for it to be proved Seth had provided that money and that he would be in trouble with the authorities for it.

  She wasn’t going to tell Matthew one word of what she was thinking.

  ‘And I have a feeling I know just who that person was now.’

  Caroline Prentiss. Emma knew exactly who it was Matthew meant.

  ‘So have I,’ Emma said. ‘But to say her name would taint the air and spoil this place, so I won’t.’

  Matthew gave a low chuckle but Emma chose to ignore it, even though the delicious sound of it was giving her goose pimples.

  ‘When?’ she said instead. ‘When did he escape?’

  ‘A week ago. The American authorities have reason to believe he’s on his way back to England. And they want him back before the British courts get hold of him for crimes he committed here. He could be here very soon.’

  ‘The authorities think he’s coming here? Wanting what he thinks should be his? All the money Seth got for selling the fishing fleet? The cottages? Our house?’

  ‘Ah, you worked that out very quickly. All of that, among other things.’

  ‘What else does he want?’

  ‘Mrs Prentiss’s daughter,’ Matthew said.

  ‘He’s coming for Fleur?’

  ‘From what I was told in a telephone call this morning, yes.’

  Emma digested all this unwanted information for a few minutes.

  ‘You didn’t come back just to be Mr Smythe’s groomsman at his wedding, did you?’

  Matthew gave a mock sigh. ‘You’re going to question me, Emma, I know you are, but the truth is I had no idea about what Miles Jago was up to when I got on the boat to come here. The only thing on my agenda then was being groomsman for Rupert. Although I confess there was the hope of seeing you, too. And now I have, part of me wishes I hadn’t.’