by Lucy Langton
“Miss Stewart,” the earl said, looking up and speaking before she could do the same.
“M’Lord,” she replied, hugging herself to try to conceal her sleeping costume. Briefly, the earl took Emilia in with his eyes from head to toe, then he looked away.
“Perhaps you have forgotten your shawl,” the earl said, refusing to look at her again.
“I think I shall merely return to bed,” Emilia replied, turning to leave.
“Should you need a book for this evening then you’re more than welcome to return to the library. But please come back with some covering.”
“Yes, M’Lord,” Emilia said, giving a curtsy. She turned and ran down the hall, up the stairs, and into her bedroom. She leaned her back against the door and clutched herself, her heart pounding in her chest. Should she return to the library, as the earl said she could do? Or should she spend the rest of the evening locked in her room in utter mortification? The latter seemed more fitting, but she couldn’t help but desire a book to keep her company nonetheless.
Finding a large shawl in her closet, Emilia threw it around her shoulders and returned to the door, exiting and making her descent back to the library.
When she returned, the earl was still seated at the desk, but he did not look up and Emilia didn’t dare utter a word. Instead, she walked around the library holding the shawl tight around her shoulders. She enjoyed the silence, but it was not long before she felt the urge to speak.
“It’s a remarkable library you have,” Emilia said.
“I thank you,” the earl replied without looking up.
“Have you had the collection for some time?”
“Generations.”
“It is apparent. My father would have been impressed.”
She briefly looked over to the earl and saw that her last statement caused him to momentarily look up, and then down again.
“Do you always speak when you’re nervous?” the earl asked without a hint of warmth in his voice. A flush came to Emilia’s cheek, and she brought her hand up to cool it with her palm.
“I’m afraid so,” Emilia replied candidly.
“There is no need to be nervous in my presence. Do as you will,” the earl said.
“I thank you.”
“The library is open to you whenever you wish. And whenever . . . you’re properly attired.”
“Once again, I thank you,” Emilia replied, returning to silence. Every so often, whilst perusing the amazing collection of books, Emilia would look back towards the earl again, seeing him rapt in concentration.
“Do you have any suggestions?” Emilia asked, and she could see that this sparked the earl’s annoyance.
“I’m quite busy, Miss Stewart.”
“Very well.”
“But if you must know, I’m partial to –” he began, then stopped himself.
“Yes?” Emilia asked in anticipation.
“One Thousand and One Nights.”
“Oh!” Emilia replied. “I have not yet read it.”
“It may be to your liking,” the earl added coldly, getting up from his seat and walking over to an adjacent wall. He looked at the books keenly in search of the novel that he had mentioned. Within moments he found it, then walked over to where Emilia stood, handing her the book. Emilia took great pains to not brush his fingers again, but did take the book from his hand and clutched it to her.
“I thank you,” Emilia said.
“Indeed,” the earl replied curtly. “Keep it as long as you wish.”
With that the earl walked away, massaging his eyes from fatigue.
“I shall retire for the night. Will you please extinguish the taper before you return to your chamber.”
“Yes, M’Lord.”
“Very well,” the earl said, exiting the library. “Oh, and Miss Stewart,” the earl added, turning back once more.
“Yes?”
“I . . . I believe I’ve forgotten what I was going to say. Goodnight.”
With that, Lord Forest was gone and Emilia was left wondering why it was that she had enjoyed his presence in the room, and was sad when he left. There was an electrical charge in his wake.
Wandering around the library she felt remarkably at ease amidst the smell of leather and old paper. The books were immaculate, proving that the library had held a place of prominence and importance at Glastonbrook for generations.
Emilia stopped to look at the book she still clutched in her hands. One Thousand and One Nights. She had heard of it before, and the fabled tale of the Arabian nights where Scheherazade had to entertain the king in order to keep the head upon her shoulders. How odd that that should be the earl’s favourite book. It came as quite the surprise to her. She greatly anticipated reading it, but since she was such an avid reader, Emilia thought it fitting that she should continue to peruse the library in order to find one more to take to her room.
Stroking the covers with her fingers to feel the soft leather and hard spines, her touch came across one volume that seemed quite different to the rest. Pulling it out and away from the other books, Emilia found something that wasn’t a book at all, but rather a worn leather-bound tome with no title. Opening it, it became abundantly clear from the handwriting that it was a journal dated five years earlier. The penmanship was clearly legible, and Emilia scanned the words in order to try to understand whose journal it was. Turning to one page at random, she began to read:
And on that fateful day in the year of our Lord 1812, it was upon entrance to the study of our beloved country home that the lifeless bodies of the Earl and Countess were discovered by me as my eyes were still adjusting to the light of day. From that day forth I knew my life would never be the same for countless reasons.
Slamming the journal shut, Emilia found that her heart was racing uncontrollably. Was it true? Had she not only come upon the earl’s journal, but also discovered that he had discovered the bodies of his parents? What had happened to the Earl and Countess of Cunningham, and how had Lord Forest possibly survived such a discovery. Emilia was tempted to read further, but instead she placed the journal back from where she’d pulled it and brought a hand to her cheek in dismay.
Thoughts continued to race in her head. Had she read that accurately? Could it possibly be true? She had often wondered in that first week of arriving at Glastonbrook what had happened to the previous earl, but she dare not ask Hugh for fear that she might be considered a snoop. Even worse, she did not entertain the idea of approaching the earl with the same question. She did consider asking Deirdre once they had spent more time together, as the girl appeared to wish to share and speak of anything that was on her mind. Perhaps there were so many secrets at Glastonbrook that Deirdre was longing to discuss them after years of such dreadful silence.
Emilia decided that she was in desperate need of air. What she had read left a dizzy feeling in her head and she knew that it could be relieved by the moist breeze of Castle Comb. Walking back towards the kitchen and out the door, Emilia enjoyed the cold feel of the exterior of the home. Still clutching the book to her, she leant against the stone wall and looked up at the stars, which were only visible because the clouds had departed. She felt moisture on her skin, which the air was swimming with.
What had she stepped into coming to the home of the Earl of Cunningham? No wonder the staff of the Hutchinson home were so foreboding when she mentioned her new employment. Emilia had entered a den of secrets and heartbreak, and it hurt her own heart to think of it. It greatly explained the earl’s constant pained expression, his lack of words, and his weighty presence. Was it so important to understand him? No, of course it was not. Emilia’s job was not to understand him in the slightest, but she did wish to better understand Deirdre so that she might school her in the most effective way as possible. And care for her.
A chill came to Emilia’s skin and she decided that the air had already done her good in such a short time. Re-entering the kitchen, she stifled a scream when she found Winnifred there in her slee
ping costume, cutting from a block of cheese.
“Can’t sleep,” Winnifred said wearily.
“You startled me,” Emilia replied.
“I should say the same for you. What are you doing up at this hour?”
“I was in the library looking for a book, and then I had the frightful need for air.”
“I see. Would you care for some cheese?” Winnifred asked.
“I suppose that I’ll have a piece,” Emilia replied.
Winnifred handed her the handle of the knife and Emilia made a dainty cut, thinking that her supper had been sufficient to satisfy her appetite for the night.
“No wonder you’re such a tiny girl,” Winnifred said, shaking her head. She took the knife from Emilia’s hand and made a much heartier cut, poking it with the tip of the knife and presenting it for Emilia to take.
“I thank you,” Emilia replied.
“You’re curious about this place. I can see it in your eyes,” Winnifred said, eating her cheese.
“There is much to be curious about. Why even tonight I discovered –”
“What did you discover?” Winnifred asked.
“How . . . intricate the library is,” Emilia replied, covering her tracks.
“This home is like a museum, and I clean every crevice,” Winnifred said wearily.
“Indeed.”
“There is a lot to be discovered here, if you have an interest in it.”
Emilia couldn’t banish from her brain the desire to return to the library, procure the journal, and read the entirety of it that night by candlelight. Then she could discover all the mysteries at once, learn who the Earl of Cunningham really was inside, and no longer be burdened with painful curiosity. Yes, she would do it, just as soon as she took leave from Winnifred. Emilia would feel compunction and guilt for sure, but at least that painful curiosity within her would be extinguished for the time being.
“Did you ever consider leaving here?” Emilia asked.
“Glastonbrook? Never once. It’s vacant now, and full of memories, but what I remember most is the love.”
“Truly?” Emilia asked.
“Without question. I wish you could have seen it back in the good old days, Miss Emilia. So much joy and light and warmth. All that is gone now,” Winnifred went on, looking around at the cold, dark kitchen. “But not forgotten.”
“Where are you from, may I ask?”
“Of course you can. I’m from Wales, you see. Left as a young woman in order to secure employment and have not returned since.”
“You have not gone back in all these years?”
“Not a once. Lost my accent and everything. There’s no time to go back. I work too hard,” Winnifred explained.
“I see,” Emilia replied, becoming introspective. She, as well, had not returned to Painswick since seeking employment elsewhere. There was no time and no desire. The halcyon days of being a young girl, spending every waking breath in her father’s bookshop, reading and carousing, were gone. Her father was transformed into a monster, and since then, those days would never be recreated.
“You should go back one of these days,” Emilia said.
“I think about it sometimes, but no. My life is here. Will be till I die. I’m tied to this house like fish are tied to the sea. There’s no remedy for it, you see.”
“I do.”
Emilia knew intuitively that her case would not be the same. She’d never be tied to one home, but rather jump from home to home, never finding permanence. It didn’t bother her often, but in that moment she felt a tinge of regret. Could she make a life of all that? Would she miss having a family of her own, and stability? There was no way of knowing.
“I thank you for this, but I fear it is time for me to finally return to bed,” Emilia said.
“Go on, then. I’ll remain here with my comfort a bit longer. Yours is books, and mine is cheese,” Winnifred said with a smile.
“Indeed,” Emilia replied, returning the smile. “Goodnight.”
Walking quietly down the hall, still clutching One Thousand and One Nights, Emilia found herself back in the library, her mission clear. Walking to where she remembered the journal to be, she carefully pulled it out with her fingers and looked at it once more. It was then that she remembered the need to extinguish the taper. Walking towards it on the opposite side of the room, Emilia heard footsteps at the door and turned, trying to conceal a cry of shock.
Chapter 7
At first there was silence. The earl stood in the doorway watching Emilia as she leaned over the taper to blow it out. He looked from her face to her hand, which clutched the journal tightly, the other book still held to her chest.
Rage and confusion consumed him as he marvelled at Emilia in that tableau. As always for him, her natural beauty was uncanny, but her trespassing could not be ignored.
Without saying a word, the earl strode towards her quickly, the sound of his weighty boots on the floor beating in his ears as he crossed. He grabbed her hand, the one that was clutching the journal, and he easily pried it from her fingers. Once he had the journal in his own hand, he did not let go of her wrist, but rather held it more tightly.
“Let me go,” Emilia finally said.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Please let me go.”
“I see that I have already given you too many freedoms. You have free rein of my library and already you have abused my kindness.”
“Not so. I merely stumbled upon it.”
“Stumbled upon it?” the earl asked. “You are a very cunning stumbler.”
“If you told me I could take anything from the library, why would you keep such a precious journal therein?” Emilia asked.
“It was a mistake.”
“Will you please unhand me, M’Lord. You are causing me pain.”
With that, the earl slowly let go of Emilia’s wrist and tensed his jaw. After a moment of contemplation, he grabbed Emilia by the shoulders, again with much force, and pushed her down into a chair. Once she was seated, he threw the journal down upon the desk and walked about the library, grabbing things here and there and adding them to the pile on the desk.
Does she seek to betray me? Can she not be loyal to me in the way that I require? This governess may be the death of me.
“I suppose I should keep this from you as well,” he said, throwing down another book. “And this too.”
“M’Lord this is unnecessary. I promise not to transgress in the future.”
“Do you think that I can trust you now? You’re very much mistaken.”
“M’Lord, please.”
Finally the earl, hearing her pleas, came back to where Emilia sat and leaned over her, placing his hands on the arms of the chair so that she was trapped. His heart was fiery and full of fury, yet he kept the tone of voice measured and controlled.
“I’ll have you know, Miss Stewart, then when you pry into the affairs of others it can only come back to haunt you. If you see something about this house that pertains to me and my private matters, I heartily advise you to turn your cheek. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, M’Lord.”
The earl’s heart pounded in his chest. Emilia Stewart had an intoxicating effect upon him that he could not explain, but it seemed to take over his entire being. Sweat collected on the back of his neck, and on his chest. He felt an uncompromising need when he was around her.
*
Caught in the chair as she was, Emilia felt her heart pounding wildly in her chest. It was fear, of course, but it was also some kind of electricity that she couldn’t understand. The temperature in the air seemed to change, and all of Emilia’s blood vessels felt dilated, as though blood were coursing through her at a dizzying pace.
She could see that the he wanted to speak, but his words were lost. He stood up straight again, setting Emilia free from the bonds that he had created for her.
“Leave at once,” he said with a strangled voice, running a hand through his hai
r. “I must do work.”
“M’Lord, it is already quite late,” Emilia said softly.
“I did not ask your opinion, Miss Stewart. Rather, I told you to go to your room.”
“Yes, M’Lord,” Emilia replied, getting up from the chair slowly and walking towards the door, still carrying One Thousand and One Nights. Her legs were wobbly from the tension that she felt within, and she tried to steady herself so that he might not see the effect he had had upon her.
Unfortunately, the control of her legs was not strong enough, for all the time she walked to the door, she felt the earl’s eyes cutting into her back. Once she finally reached the door, she placed her hand upon the pane in order to steady herself, then she turned back to where the earl sat. As her eyes met his she saw him look away, fury still written on his face.