by Lucy Langton
Emilia continued to read the tragedy with passion in her voice, and Deirdre sat rapt in attention. Looking over at her new charge, Emilia smiled to herself, happy that they shared such a good rapport so early in their relationship.
The morning had already gone well enough. Emilia awoke at dawn as she was told to do and took tea in the kitchen with Hugh and Winnifred. They enjoyed large hunks of crusty dark bread with butter and homemade jam made of blackberries from the forest. There were also poached eggs and thick sausages. Although the exterior gloom was not something that Emilia was accustomed to, she decided to make the best of it, and gave clear orders to have a fire lit in the day room so that she and Deirdre could enjoy some warmth, if not from the sun.
“Their lives are so interesting,” Deirdre mused with her chin in her hand. “I wish my life were interesting.”
“But it is,” Emilia said, gently closing the book.
“No, I fear that it is not. It’s so boring here. Nothing happens. I fear that I shall die an old maid.”
“That is not the truth. You’re being bred to be introduced into society. To find a husband,” Emilia said.
“I suppose so. But what will I be able to talk to him about? I know nothing of the world. I have seen nothing. It all seems so hopeless.”
Emilia thought that Deirdre’s ennui was rather charming, but she was also pained by it. No young lady should feel so isolated from the world as Deirdre was. She wished to give the young girl more exposure, but how? It was true that Glastonbrook was cut off from everything and surrounded by forest on all sides. Did the earl take some comfort in knowing that he and his sister were so secluded? And if so, why should that be?
“Why do their families not like one another?” Deirdre asked, referring to Romeo and Juliet yet again.
“That is a very good question. I’m of the opinion that they’ve been feuding for so long that they’ve quite forgotten the reason. That is often the case. Hatred is passed down from generation to generation.”
“How dreadful,” Deirdre replied.
“Yes, it is.”
Silence followed as Emilia felt Deirdre’s eyes upon her, inspecting her. She couldn’t tell why the young girl was examining her so, but it made her slightly uncomfortable, if only for a moment.
“You’re so beautiful,” Deirdre finally said, and Emilia heaved a sigh of relief. She was expecting much worse. A gown had already been brought to her room that morning by Hugh, one that would satisfy the earl’s request. It was so modest that Emilia felt like she should be in a nunnery rather than at Glastonbrook. Her hair was set just as modestly, with very little embellishment in terms of curls. Her face had been expertly scrubbed and moisturised with lavender cream.
“You are beautiful, as well,” Emilia replied with a warm smile.
“Not as beautiful as you are,” Deirdre said, getting up from where she sat and walking over towards the window. “I wish to be beautiful one day. To be a woman. I want a bosom like yours,” Deirdre added, looking down towards her chest.
Emilia flushed and smiled bashfully. Yes, she had filled out in recent years, and she was still getting used to her womanly figure. It was so charming to think that Deirdre assumed the same might not happen to her, and Emilia remembered her own worries at that tender age, that she might never grow up and turn into a woman, a woman who would be desired by men.
Yet, being desired by men was never something that was at the forefront of Emilia’s mind. She was always focused on her work, on reading, learning more about the world and growing as a person. Should a man come along that claimed her love, then she would give it freely. But she was in no way in need of that.
“Womanhood will come upon you soon enough, and in no time you’ll see that life changes in wonderful and challenging ways. Do not rush things. You’re perfect as you are,” Emilia replied.
“Do you like toffee?” Deirdre asked, her demeanour suddenly changing.
“Who doesn’t?” Emilia asked.
“There’s the most marvellous toffee shop in town. We really ought to go. Joshua never allows it. He says it’s bad for my teeth,” Deirdre said, still looking through the window.
“Well, I suppose that some toffee upon occasion can do no harm. We shall go.”
“Joshua does not believe in sweet stuffs at all. He won’t allow them to be served at table.”
Emilia thought it incredibly forward that Deirdre was referring to her brother by his given name. To Emilia, he would always be the Earl of Cunningham, or perhaps Lord Forest, but she could never see herself calling him Joshua. It would be the most improper blunder imaginable.
“I had the most delicious blackberry jam this morning,” Emilia mused, remembering the taste of it.
“Oh yes,” Deirdre said with excitement, leaving the window and returning to a seated position in front of Emilia, near the fireplace. “Winnifred makes it every summer. She makes enough to last an entire year! You wouldn’t believe how many jars of it are in the larder.”
“Such delectable flavour.”
“You should try the strawberry jam. It’s even better. But Winnifred has to go to another town to procure the berries, and there’s scarce time for that these days, considering that Joshua has let the staff go.”
Curiosity overtook Emilia as she wanted to know the reason. How was it that a man of considerable wealth and power should relieve his staff with such a large estate to contend with? It seemed utterly strange and implausible, and seeing as she and Deirdre were already getting along so handsomely, she decided to enquire about it. Or rather, to begin with a question that was even more unfathomable in her mind.
“Might I ask why the earl . . . is without a wife?” Emilia said. Unsure if she’d be met with openness or distrust, she held her breath in anticipation of the answer. Luckily for her, she found that Deirdre’s answer flowed freely.
“My brother was to be married once, and it went so badly,” Deirdre replied with childlike reasoning.
How could it have gone badly? The earl was remarkably handsome, that much was plain, and he was also of considerable standing in society. What could have gone amiss?
“Did the lady do something to offend him?” Emilia asked, knowing full well that she was stepping over her bounds, but unable to stop herself.
“Well, no. This was five years ago, you see,” Deirdre went on to explain, gazing into the fire and collecting her thoughts. The young lady knit her brow, trying to recall all the memories and thoughts at once. Emilia saw Deirdre’s expression turn dark and heavy as she recalled the events. “He was courting a high society lady. I was told that her family was very rich and she was a woman of considerable breeding. She was beautiful too, but not like you. She had a rather cold beauty, like an ice princess.”
“I see,” Emilia replied.
“She was rather haughty in my estimation, and I did not like her one jot. My brother seems keen on her though, so I kept my opinions to myself.”
“That’s likely the correct thing to do,” Emilia replied.
“Well, Joshua entered into society full tilt. I rarely saw him. He was always escorting the lady to balls and parties and such. I was so lonely during that time, and I feared for him.”
“Why is that?” Emilia asked.
“Because he didn’t seem like himself. He was so vain and distant. I didn’t like it. He wasn’t the brother that I held so dear.” Deirdre stopped her speech and looked around the day room in contemplation. “You wouldn’t believe how different things were then. Mother and Father were still alive at that time, the house was full of servants, and I was allowed to eat toffee every day.”
“Well, what happened?” Emilia asked, in awe of how things had so rapidly changed at Glastonbrook.
“More than I can possibly explain. But essentially –” Deirdre began, but her words were cut short.
“I believe that it is time to pause. Let the child’s mind rest,” a voice said, and Emilia turned to find Hugh standing in the doorway, looking no
ne too pleased.
“Right, of course,” Emilia said, quickly coming to a standing position and straightening out her skirts. “It has been a rather productive morning.”
“So I can tell,” Hugh replied, frowning.
“Must we take a break now?” Deirdre asked sullenly.
“Yes, it cannot be prevented,” Hugh replied.
“Very well then,” Deirdre said heavily, leaving the room. Hugh and Emilia were left to themselves, and a confrontation seemed imminent.
“She’s a charming young girl,” Emilia began, trying to lighten the mood.
“She’s sheltered and unknowledgeable, that is why you’re here.”
“Indeed.”
“You’re not here to pry, Miss Stewart.”
“I was not prying, it was merely curiosity,” Emilia began to explain.
“Curiosity can get you into a great deal of trouble,” Hugh went on, stepping towards the fireplace and picking up a poker to stoke the flames.
“That is not what I want,” Emilia explained.
“Then simply do your job and you will have nothing to fear,” Hugh went on, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
“Yes, sir.”
“Miss Stewart,” Hugh went on, his demeanour changing. “There is a rich history here at Glastonbrook; some of it you should know, and some of it you should not. Take pains to mind your own business. I do not say this as a threat but rather as common sense.”
“Yes, sir,” Emilia said again.
“The earl is a rather complicated and challenging man, that much I know that you see. It may be easy to succumb to fascination, but it must not be so. If you delve too deep into the forest you may find yourself lost.”
Emilia considered these words. Delve too deep into the forest? Was Hugh referring to the earl’s character? His dark past? She knew he was trying to get her to back away, but his words were making the earl seem all the more intriguing. Now she was keen to know what had happened with the rich woman Lord Forest was courting, the house full of servants, the dead parents.
“Surely, you understand my curiosity,” Emilia said. “If I’m to live for a considerable length of time at Glastonbrook, then it helps me to know the circumstances under which I live.”
“You have a bright mind, Miss Stewart, that much is plain. But merely know that sometimes being privy to too much cannot help but rather hurt. The earl is the captain of this ship, and we must obey him in all matters,” Hugh said, walking towards the door in order to take his leave. He turned back towards Emilia one last time. “But some men are slaves to their emotions,” he added, his brow creased. Emilia could tell that he instantly regretted saying those words, and he made a hasty departure.
Some men are slaves to their emotions? Emilia tried to decipher that. Did the earl get his heart broken? Did something wretched transpire between them? Her curiosity was worse than it previously was. Yes, Emilia was dying to know about the history of Glastonbrook, what happened between its walls, what was the fate of the remarkable figures she saw in the paintings.
There was nothing she could do to amend it, of course. She couldn’t make the sun shine more brightly, she couldn’t make the garden grow with exquisite flowers and herbs, nor could she make the forest more verdant or cover the hillsides with soft grass. What she could do was use her own spirit to fill Glastonbrook with more life, and she would make it her mission to do so. Not only were the surroundings grey, but the spirit of Glastonbrook’s occupants was also grey, and Emilia wished to brighten things up somehow.
She picked up the copy of Romeo and Juliet that was lying on the floor by the fire and opened its cover, finding the spot in which she and Deirdre had left off. It was the balcony scene, one of her own personal favourites in literature.
Emilia was reminded of the power of love, of its ability to overcome hatred and strife. She would use her own capacity for love to lift the spirits of those around her.
“Tea is served,” Winnifred’s voice said. She was wearing her rather large white apron again, and as was the case the day before, it was covered in smears of various ingredients.
“I thank you,” Emilia replied, placing the book on the mantelpiece so that they might return to it after the afternoon’s respite.
“I do hope you like soup?”
“I love it.”
“Good, because there’s enough to feed an army,” Winnifred added wearily, exiting the room.
It was something Emilia had already observed about Winnifred’s manner of cooking. She made enough to suit a household-full of staff. Perhaps it was a habit from a former time. No matter what stood in the way, Emilia resolved to learn what had happened in those bygone times.
Chapter 6
Within about a week of settling into Glastonbrook, things began to change. Emilia found that her routine was becoming ingrained: breakfast after dawn, tea at noon, and a lazy evening supper after the day’s endless tasks had been completed. She and Deirdre had quickly graduated from Romeo and Juliet to Hamlet, and they even spent an entire afternoon reciting sonnets in the unkempt garden.
The relationship between Emilia and the earl was unchanged. They exchanged very few words and even less eye contact. Emilia did not think much of this, as she had already discovered that Lord Joshua Forest was a mysterious man who kept many secrets. Therefore, it came to a shock to her on a Thursday afternoon when, completing the morning lesson, she exited the day room to make her way towards the kitchen and found herself crashing into the earl’s torso accidentally as they both turned the corner. In reaction to this, the earl grasped Emilia in his arms in order to steady her, then looked down into her eyes to ensure she was all right. As she was caught in her employer’s arms, Emilia’s cheeks flushed red and she pulled away.
Looking up at him she noted a hint of confusion in his eyes, as though he had to contemplate the collision as well. What Emilia was left with after that was the remembrance of his size and shape, how her head barely reached the top of his chest.
After Thursday’s collision Emilia was keen to watch where she was going at all times, lest she show herself to be clumsy and foolish again in the earl’s presence.
But the confusion only deepened when, on the following Saturday, the earl entered the kitchen without announcing himself and proceeded to walk over to the table where Emilia was taking tea. She put down her cup in shock, having never seen Lord Forest in that room before, and he reached out to hand her a book.
“Socrates,” he said.
In stunned silence she took the book from his hand, and when she did so felt their fingers brush. The touch was entirely unintentional, but once again she saw that look of confusion on the earl’s face.
“Study that next,” he said curtly and turned to leave.
Although these were minor interactions between her and the earl, Emilia found it difficult to get them out of her mind and she scolded herself for it. Why should she lie in bed at night thinking of the touch of two of his fingers? It was utterly absurd and she was not in a position to even entertain the notion of attraction to a man who was in a whole other sphere of existence. Surely she was only thinking about those two encounters so often because she was embarrassed, or ashamed, by them?
The following Sunday morning, as the rain came crashing down before breakfast, Emilia rushed to her window to see how far in the distance the bleak clouds stretched, so that she might have a better idea of when the downpour would stop. In so doing, she noted that the earl was intrepidly walking towards his horse, but what he did next was most shocking indeed.
With his back turned towards her, he stopped mid-stride and abruptly turned, looking up to Emilia’s window and catching her eye. Whereas the time before when that happened she had run away from the window, on this occasion Emilia dropped down and clutched herself, her heart pounding with embarrassment and shame yet again.
Did the Earl of Cunningham think her the nosiest, most foolish girl in all of England? She would not be surprised to hear so. She would
do her best in the following days to be on her best behaviour. To stay focused on the lesson plans and avoid the earl as much as she possibly could.
But it could not be prevented on Tuesday night, well after she had had supper and changed into her sleeping costume, when Emilia thought that she might sneak into the library for a brief moment. She had been told by Hugh on an earlier occasion that she would be free to take from the library whatever she wished for her own enjoyment, and certainly any materials that she might need for Deirdre’s lessons. So Emilia felt no compunction when she tiptoed across the hall, down the stairs, and into the dark library that she assumed was entirely empty of any other people.
When Emilia saw the earl seated at a writing desk with only one candle lit, she was afraid she might scream.