Emma: There's No Turning Back

by Linda Mitchelmore

  ‘That’s hardly a compliment,’ Emma said.

  ‘I think, Emma,’ Matthew said, his eyes unwaveringly on Emma’s, ‘that kiss we shared told you which part of me is glad I came back. The part I wish with all my heart I didn’t have to tell you is that I took a phone call only this morning from America with new information about Miles Jago. Sometimes a person is in the wrong place at the wrong time, but just for once I was in the right place at the right time. I can now make sure you and Seth – Fleur too – are safe. And I will, believe me.’

  Make us safe. Because he cares for us. For me.

  Matthew was as good a man as Seth in his different way. Was it possible to love two men? Emma wondered as she gazed into his oh-so-familiar face. Despite the awfulness of this new situation she was in, she wanted to reach out and touch him, confirm to herself that he was here in front of her and not in her dreams.

  ‘I knew it. Miles and Mrs Prentiss didn’t go down with the Titanic. They were seen boarding it – Olly Underwood saw them … oh … I …’

  ‘Shouldn’t have told me that?’

  ‘No, I shouldn’t. Olly could be accused of perverting the course of justice, or whatever it’s called, couldn’t he?’

  ‘He could. But I’ve already forgotten you told me.’

  ‘They were travelling under assumed names, weren’t they? With false travel documents. Those travel documents more than likely paid for with money Seth gave Mrs Prentiss to get out of our lives for good.’

  ‘And I don’t think you should have told me that either,’ Matthew said, smiling gently at her.

  ‘But I have. And you’ve already forgotten I’ve told you.’

  Matthew laughed loudly then, startling an oyster-catcher pecking for food on the tide line; it squawked and flapped off, its red legs dangling, Emma thought, like starched ribbons.

  ‘You and I, Emma Le Goff, would make a wonderful business partnership. And any other partnership you care to name.’

  ‘Stop it! This is serious. If Seth and Fleur are in danger then—’

  ‘You, too,’ Matthew stopped her. ‘I had no idea you and Seth lived together when I wrote to you, or I’d never have said what I did in my letter. Not that what I said wasn’t – isn’t – true, but it wouldn’t have been appropriate.’

  Lived together. Matthew had said lived together, not married. She knew it would be futile to try to persuade Matthew that she and Seth were legally joined as a couple, so she’d save her breath for what she could tell him.

  ‘I don’t know that our dance last night was appropriate,’ Emma said. ‘With Seth watching.’

  ‘Inappropriate perhaps, but wonderful. It will stay with me forever, Emma. And while I don’t want to be saying this, you must get away from here. You and Seth and Fleur are all in danger. If Miles gets to you, his first priority will be to do away with you and Seth, then take Fleur. It’s how minds like his work. I’ve been studying psychology in America. Miles Jago, so far, is a textbook case.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Emma’s hand flew to her throat the way it always did, searching for her mama’s amethyst necklace that wasn’t there any more; not since the time she’d been attacked by Margaret Phipps in the graveyard of St Mary’s and it had disappeared from around her neck.

  But her fingers made smoothing, calming, movements against her skin anyway.

  Matthew had come back to her and while they weren’t declaring love for one another it was there between them, she knew it. And now he was telling her to go away.

  ‘Miles would have no compunction in paying someone to do his dirty work for him,’ Matthew said, allowing Emma her interruption, but not chiding her for it. ‘I can’t think he’s so stupid as to turn up at Mulberry House himself, but my guess is he’s more than likely in some hovel of an inn finding someone to turn up for him right now.’ He reached for the hand at Emma’s neck and gently pulled it away. ‘What happened?’

  ‘To Mama’s necklace?’

  ‘Yes. You swore you’d never take it off when I got it back for you from Reuben Jago. Remember?’

  Reuben Jago. Would she ever stop hearing that name and feeling sick whenever she did?

  ‘Of course I remember. You called in a favour with the authorities, so you said, at the time.’

  ‘If I said it, then it would be true. I’d have thought you’d have taken more care of it, given the circumstances. But you lost it.’

  ‘I didn’t!’ Emma said.

  ‘Someone took it from you?’

  ‘You could say that, yes.’

  ‘And you’re going to tell me who.’

  Emma knew it wasn’t a question, more a demand, but she would tell him anyway. Because she wanted to. So she did. All the fear she’d felt that she was going to be killed, in broad daylight, by Margaret Phipps. Or that Fleur was. It all came pouring out. She detailed her injuries and how she still bore a scar on her forehead from the attack. How Margaret Phipps had been put in an institution somewhere in Plymouth and was never likely to come back out.

  And then she backtracked and told Matthew how it was that Fleur (then called Rose by Caroline Prentiss) had been dumped on her – the way a parcel of dirty linen is dumped at the laundry – in the bakery. And how she’d come to love Fleur as her own, because Seth loved the child so. On and on she talked. About her business and how it had taken a knock first by a mysterious fire and then because she’d been so long to recover from the attack. How, just as her business was getting off the ground again, it came crashing back down once more. How she’d been sure as eggs are eggs that after the Smythe wedding more orders for her pastries would come flooding in. But now … now she was going to have to move. She even told him how the vicar up at St Mary’s had refused to marry her and Seth, so they’d had a sham wedding photograph taken. And how Mrs Drew – dear Mrs Drew who Emma had loved so – had spread the news of the wedding while never knowing the truth. But that now Mrs Drew was dead, Emma had no one – apart from Seth, of course, and Ruby – to comfort her.

  ‘Danger seems to court you, Emma,’ Matthew said, when she stopped to catch her breath.

  ‘I’m glad you realise it’s that way around.’

  ‘I do.’

  Emma seemed to have a second wind now and she told Matthew that all she wanted for goodness’ sake was a roof over her head and food in her belly and a man she loved – as she did Seth – and who loved her in return. And a business – yes, she wanted that. And a baby of her own. How it hurt her that that didn’t seem to be happening however many times she and Seth tried to make it. She even told Matthew how she’d been to see Dr Shaw and he’d pronounced her fit and well and just to relax about the whole thing and it would happen when the time was right.

  But would that time ever come?

  And somehow in the telling, Matthew’s arm had slid around her back and she had leant her head against his shoulder.

  ‘And I’ve worked hard at all those things,’ Emma finished.

  ‘I don’t doubt it for a second.’

  ‘And while it might pain me to say it, you are right – danger does seem to court me.’

  ‘And I,’ Matthew said, ‘am probably the most dangerous of all.’

  Dangerous. Emma pondered the word. She was no more in danger from him alone here in the secluded cove than she had been living under the same roof as him at Shingle Cottage. No, that wasn’t what he meant. Matthew had a pull on her heart now and her own heart could so easily leave Seth, leave Fleur, leave her dreams of building up a big business, and follow him to the ends of the earth. For what? To live in fear of whatever dangerous, covert job he would be doing next? Did she want that? Could she break Seth’s heart? Could she live with herself if she did?

  They sat in silence for a while. Gulls screeched and reeled in the sky, arguing over a morsel of food no doubt, and a fishing boat – the sound of its steam engine carrying across the water – chugged by in the middle distance.

  ‘Now we’ve found one another again and neither of us can deny our fee
lings, can we?’ Emma said, breaking the silence.

  ‘We have, and we can’t. That kiss, that dance, told us both that.’

  ‘Don’t,’ Emma said.

  There was another long silence.

  ‘We’re going to have to part,’ she said at last, wanting to be the one to say it.

  ‘I think we must,’ Matthew said. ‘I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if Miles Jago got to you somehow, and I was unable to prevent him doing so.’

  ‘He won’t,’ Emma said. ‘Because I’m going. With Seth. To Canada. For always.’

  ‘You are,’ Matthew said. ‘Seth’s already bought the tickets.’

  ‘He has?’

  ‘Don’t ever lose your questioning, Emma,’ Matthew said, his voice cracked with emotion. ‘You’d lose part of yourself if you did.’ He gently pushed Emma’s head from his shoulder and removed his arm from around her back.

  She felt bereft – almost like a mourning, not having the feel of him against her. But it was the right thing. For Seth. For Fleur. And, possibly, Emma thought, for me. She stood up, and Matthew rose to his feet beside her.

  ‘Would you kiss me?’ Emma said, moving to face him. ‘Just one more time? Before we part?’

  ‘And don’t lose your impulsiveness either. You gladden a man’s heart with it. Well, this man’s, anyway. But to answer your question. No.’ Matthew shook his head.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because, darling, delectable, Emma, just one kiss wouldn’t be enough. And we both know it.’

  ‘Pickfords will be here in the morning,’ Seth said, the second Emma entered the house. He’d been standing in the hall, waiting for her, praying she’d return, and had yanked open the door to let her in the second she reached the doorstep.

  ‘Oh!’ Emma said, and Seth couldn’t be sure if her surprise had been his rather strange greeting or the fact the door had been yanked open so that she’d almost fallen into the house. ‘Must we start packing now? Tonight?’

  Seth let his breath out in a long sigh of relief. Emma was coming with him. She’d come home, not to pack her things and leave with Matthew Caunter as he’d feared she might want to, but to him.

  To go with him to Canada.

  He closed the door behind Emma and taking her elbow, guided her into the drawing room.

  ‘There’s so much to tell you, sweetheart,’ he said, easing her down onto a couch. ‘I’ve already started packing. While you were …’ Seth paused. While you were down at Crystal Cove with Matthew Caunter talking about things I don’t even want to think about. Doing things that made him feel sick to the stomach about what they might be.

  ‘While you were out,’ Seth began again. ‘Pickfords delivered some tea chests and I’ve put most of my clothes in one of them. And my ma’s linens. I don’t want to leave those behind. They’ll go on ahead as freight. But we’ll leave much of the furniture. For Olly.’

  ‘Olly?’ Emma said, but her voice was flat as though she didn’t care a halfpenny piece if the furniture was left for Olly or anyone else.

  ‘He’s asked to buy the house off me. But what I’ve done – to speed things up – is arrange for the transfer of the deeds to his name. Olly and I have agreed on a price and he’ll send a banker’s draft when he’s got the money together.’

  ‘I see,’ Emma said. ‘You have been busy.’

  ‘I had to be,’ Seth said. ‘We’re all in danger. Don’t you understand?’

  ‘Of course I do. I’m not stupid. I’ve had it explained. Earlier. By …’

  Emma didn’t complete her sentence. Seth would know by whom. Instead she clasped her hands together in her lap and stared straight ahead.

  Seth wanted to fold Emma into his arms, to tell her he loved her, and he wanted to hear her say she loved him back, but right at this moment he couldn’t be certain she would.

  ‘You’ve bought our passage,’ Emma said. ‘So I was told.’

  ‘Yes,’ Seth said.

  Emma twisted her hands over and over in her lap and it was as though with each twist Seth’s guts were being tied into knots, too. He hardly dared breathe. Was Emma having second thoughts? Was she going to say she wasn’t coming after all?

  It seemed an eternity to Seth before he heard Emma draw a deep breath, ready to speak at last.

  ‘I haven’t got much to bring,’ she said. ‘Canada’s cold in the winter, even near the coast. The sea freezes. I read about it in a book I borrowed from the library just before Papa was drowned. So I’ll need to buy warmer things when we get there. But summers can be boiling hot. Hotter than here, but only for a short while. They have bears in some parts. And moose. And blackbirds are bigger than they are here. And there are lakes so vast they’re bigger than the whole of England almost. And … oh … oh, Seth … I’m going to miss springtime and primroses and the wild roses of summer. And I’m going to miss Ruby dreadfully – she’s my only friend – and I don’t know how to tell her I’ll be leaving.’

  Emma turned to him then and held her arms out towards him and he went to her and folded her in his arms.

  But she didn’t yield against him. Her body was stiff. Cold even.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll find a way. And I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you’re coming with me,’ Seth said. ‘I told Caunter where I thought you might be. I asked him to tell you the news about Miles. I did that so that you would have the opportunity to choose.’

  Emma began to cry then. Noisy wracking sobs and the sound of them seemed to go right through Seth’s chest and out the other side.

  ‘Choose?’ Emma said, her voice muffled against his body.

  She knew what he meant, Seth was sure of it, so he said nothing, while Emma cried some more, her body quivering with the effort now.

  ‘Between you and Matthew, do you mean?’

  ‘Mmm,’ was all Seth could get past his lips.

  If this new situation hadn’t arisen and they weren’t in danger, might Emma have chosen to be with Caunter? Did he really want to know?

  ‘Did he kiss you?’ Seth asked at last. ‘Or anything else? Down on Crystal Cove?’ He had to know that.

  Emma pulled away from him. What a state her face was in! Her eyes were red-rimmed and the skin on the top of her cheeks looked as though it had been peeled with a potato peeler – at least a couple of layers had been burned off with the acid in her tears. Her hair was dishevelled and her nose was squashed where she’d been held tightly against him. But how much he loved her still.

  She looked him in the eye and said, ‘No. No he didn’t.’ And then she pulled herself up off the couch, as though, Seth thought, her body and her mind were almost too heavy for her. ‘I’d better start packing some things,’ she said, her voice flat and – Seth shivered at the realisation – disinterested; she was going with him, but was her heart staying here? With Caunter? ‘How long before we sail?’

  ‘The boat leaves Bristol on Friday March 7th,’ Seth said.

  ‘Can’t we go sooner?’ Emma asked, her eyes wide with alarm. ‘That’s nearly three weeks away. We’re in danger, for goodness’ sake! You said so yourself. And Matthew said so, too.’

  ‘He didn’t tell you we’ll be covertly watched at all times? Guarded. Especially Fleur?’

  ‘No,’ Emma said. She reached for Seth’s right hand and grasped it tightly between both of hers. ‘Friday March 7th you say?’

  ‘Yes.’

  And that Friday couldn’t come quick enough, could it?

  Chapter Twenty

  Emma couldn’t quite believe the speed with which their departure was happening. It was though she was a puppet and someone else was pulling the strings. She’d packed all but a couple of changes of clothes for Fleur and herself into the tea chests Pickfords had delivered, but it would be weeks before they arrived in Canada. They would be staying with Seth’s uncle and aunt until Seth had found them a place to live. Emma wasn’t looking forward to sharing a house but there was nothing to be done about it and it might not be for long.
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br />   And her family papers – her parents’ marriage certificate, their death certificates, her own baptismal record; she’d be taking them with her as hand luggage. And the toy horse that had been Johnnie’s – she couldn’t leave that behind. It was all she had of him. If ever she had a son she’d call him Johnnie. Perhaps in a new country she and Seth could make a baby together. Her copy of Pride and Prejudice which her mama had bought for her, and which Matthew had stayed up through the night to mend for her, would go as hand luggage, too. She daren’t risk losing that if it went freight. It was dirty because Reuben Jago had thrown it into the garden when he’d burnt what things of Emma’s he couldn’t sell, but by some miracle the book had survived the fire. She knew that, in Canada, she would be able to hold her book, knowing her mama had also touched it. Matthew, too.

  And, perhaps, in a new country, she would be able to forget all about Matthew Caunter and how he made her feel. Perhaps …

  ‘Bleedin’ ’ell, Em, are you ’ere with me in this café or are you already some place else? I wish you’d tell me where you’re goin’.’

  ‘Sorry, Ruby,’ Emma said. ‘I was thinking. And I can’t tell you. Not yet.’

  ‘God, but I’m goin’ to miss you, Em,’ Ruby said.

  ‘And I’ll miss you more than you will ever know,’ Emma said, her chest full of emotion she was desperate not to let spill over into tears in front of Ruby because she knew if she were to cry, then Ruby would start and the last thing she wanted was to have everyone else in the café looking at them.

  Seth was at home with Fleur. They rarely went anywhere unless they were all together because Matthew had advised Seth – on the telephone which was how all their communication was based now – that was the safest way. But Emma had managed to assure Seth that nothing was likely to happen to her sitting across from Ruby in a crowded café drinking tea and eating cakes. She’d kept checking behind her, as she’d walked down the hill from the house, that no one was following her – and no one had been. But it was no way to live a life, always looking over your shoulder for danger, and Emma knew it. Seth said it would be best not to tell even Ruby where they were going, for the time being. Until Miles had been apprehended anyway.