by Nichole Van
But there was the small matter of the mysterious F in her locket. She had studied the miniature portrait for hours. Memorized the man, the tilt of his head, the hint of his smile. The man who most likely held her heart.
It was just an unfortunate coincidence that Mr. Knight and F looked so much alike. Her affection for F was the source of this undeniable attraction to Mr. Knight.
James, Alter Emme whispered. You can at least think of him as James. What will that hurt?
Emme sighed and agreed. James. She mentally curled inward, cradling his name against her mind. And then instantly repressed that thought too.
“I can see that Georgiana arranged some clothing for you. It suits you well. Are you enjoying your walk?”
Was he always so courteous? And did his voice have to sound so mellow smooth?
And why was she noticing such things anyway?
“Oh yes. The sun feels wonderful. I was just admiring the beautiful wisteria.” She gestured back toward the red brick house and the enormous ancient wisteria vine twining across the mullioned windows, limbs drooping with fragrant purple flowers. Her mind labeled the old house as Tudor. “The house is lovely. I would enjoy learning more of its history.”
Did that sound as lame as she thought it did? Was she trying too hard?
“With pleasure.” James smiled that broad smile of his and extended an elbow toward her. Emme paused at the gesture and then understood, sliding her hand around to rest in the crook of his arm.
Trying to ignore the flex of hard muscle in his forearm.
She listened as they strolled through the garden. He recounted the history of the house: its beginnings as a medieval monastery, mostly destroyed by Henry VIII in the 1530’s, the current house being built during the reign of Queen Elizabeth and subsequently added on to over the years, though still retaining its mostly Tudor character. The facade undulated with bay windows and abbreviated towers, a multitude of mullioned windows crosshatched across the front, scores of chimneys rising to the sky. The whole effect a jumbled mess and somehow harmonious at the same time.
She appreciated how James’ face lit as he talked of his home and enjoyed the pride in his voice as they wound along the gravel path.
No. Wait. She had decided not to notice such things. She had the man in the locket. And James was not that man. Emme took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to will away the intense pull toward him.
“And this garden?” Emme asked when James paused. “It’s lovely and the walls surrounding it look so old.”
“The garden is all that remains of the ancient monastery. If we stroll along this path, you can see the remains of the gothic cloister. As a child, I used to play amid the ruins, imagining life here when it was ruled by monks and knights.” James’ expression was somewhat rueful. “Though Georgiana was generally too young and Arthur always felt being anything other than lord of the manor was beneath him. So I was often left to make up the stories myself.”
Emme suppressed an image of a tow-headed little James mock fighting a dragon, face fierce with emotion.
“How charming,” she said. “I imagine you must have rescued many a distressed damsel.”
James laughed good-naturedly. “Of course. This is most definitely where I honed my distressed damsel rescuing skills.” He gestured expansively toward the cloister, covered in roses and climbing vines.
“Thank goodness, you did,” she answered with a wry smile, “because I have most certainly benefited from your expertise.” Emme caught his eye as she spoke, seeing a flicker of something warm that made her go all melty inside.
James stopped and looked at her intently, drawing her arm closer to his body. “Well, I have been charmed to be of service,” he said gently, bowing his head. The air rushed from her at his sudden nearness.
Mmmmm, I really like him, Alter Emme sighed, trying to breathe him in.
“But it is I who must thank you,” James continued, gesturing for them to continue walking along the path.
Emme gave a startled laugh as they started to walk forward again. “Whatever for?”
“Because your presence has provided me with a much needed adventure. I’m not often provided with opportunities to play the hero.” James looked at her somewhat conspiratorially.
Still smiling, Emme shook her head slightly. “Adventure? Heroes?” she asked in a little confusion.
James chuckled somewhat ruefully. “Well, I longed for adventure as a child, something different from the sameness of rural life. I hoped my longings would change as I got older. But I find nothing has changed. Not really.”
“Truly? You still long for adventure?”
James shrugged, as if trying to move something uncomfortable off his back. “Yes, I suppose I do. Seems immature, doesn’t it?” His grin was part shame, part humor. “I mean, I have everything most anyone would want, and yet I long for more.”
He paused and then continued, “No, not more . . . just different. Though I’m the oldest son, the heir, I never really took to it. I struggle to sit still, struggle to focus and just be content with the sameness of this life. Obviously, I love Haldon Manor. I love my family and my people. I feel my obligations to them keenly. And yet, I can’t shake the sense that this isn’t the life I was meant to have.
“As a boy, I often dreamed of jumping a ship to somewhere exotic. I even made definite plans once, when I was about twenty. Secretly, I purchased passage on a ship to India. I was going to leave a note and sneak away in the dead of night. Shameful, but I was desperate. For anything. For a change. But then life happened.”
James stopped and shook his head. “It’s probably a foolish hope anyway. I long ago realized my romantic notions of faraway places probably don’t match the reality.”
Emme blinked as he spoke, fleeting things beckoning against her mind. Skimming with the wind along glass-clear blue water, while a hot, tropical breeze buffeted her face. Looking around a colorful exotic market, its over-loud sounds grating on her ears.
She grabbed at the images, trying to force them to remain, but they skittered frustratingly out of reach.
And then another thought darted through her mind.
James noticed her slight grimace. “Mocking my immature notions? Should I just grow up and accept my adult responsibilities?”
“Not exactly.” Emme allowed a slight smile to touch her lips. “I just wished that my life could be a little less adventuresome. I fear my life has always been prone to disasters.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew they were true.
“No return of your memory, I take it?”
“Nothing. Just the locket that remains maddeningly familiar. I do have fleeting images here and there. As you were just speaking, I felt a brief flash of the heat of tropical sun—the blue water and hot sand of a lush beach. Have I been to such places?” Emme shook her head. “It’s impossible to know what is real and what isn’t. Things that should be familiar are not. And yet when you talk about faraway places that I am unlikely to have ever seen, I have this sense of recognition.”
“How frustrating,” James agreed with a wry hint in his voice. “Though I admit to being somewhat jealous that you might have visited such places. I shall be most interested to learn your history once your memory returns.”
“If it returns,” she said, wistfully.
Oh dear. That was the wrong thing to say.
The panic that had been at bay throughout their entire conversation instantly roared to life. Emme stopped suddenly, clutching a hand to her chest, attempting to stop the anxiety from claiming her. Her other hand dug tightly into his arm.
Gulping, she tried to slow her breathing. To pretend as if nothing were wrong.
Apparently, she was not convincing enough.
James abruptly turned and gently wrapped his hands around her upper arms. “Close your eyes. Just breathe. In . . . out . . . in . . . out . . .”
Emme concentrated on his voice, focusing on it like a pinprick of light in a dark roo
m. She used his strength to calm her racing heart. To again swallow back the panic. Slowly, she relaxed. Letting out a final long breath, she opened her eyes, giving him a tight smile to indicate that she was better.
He was standing close. Too close. Radiating concern and safety. His hands still held her arms, loose and comforting.
“It will be all right,” he murmured, his blue eyes sincerely staring into hers.
Emme forced herself not to drown in those eyes. To not focus on the warmth of his hands, his attentive gaze. It was too much. She lowered her eyes to stare at his cravat.
“You are safe here with me—” He stopped suddenly, catching himself. “I mean, with us. You are safe with us.”
Drawing in a stuttering breath, she whispered almost to herself, “Why has no one come for me?”
James shook his head and took a step back, releasing her arms. As if acknowledging something only to himself. He raked a hand through his hair, a nervous habit.
“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I don’t know why no one has come. I find it impossible to believe that someone somewhere isn’t frantic with worry about you.” He paused, as if considering something. And then he nodded his head. “I realized today it is time to send out more probing inquiries to London and Bristol. We will find your people, Miss Emma. Or at least exhaust ourselves trying.”
Emme took in a deep breath, surprised she was suddenly holding back tears. “Thank you. It seems inadequate to say, after all that you have done.”
James smiled. “No, it is you who I must thank. Georgiana has been so isolated with her illness. So alone. Your presence here . . .” Again he paused and looked off sightlessly at something above her head, swallowed as if fighting some emotion. “Well, it has helped my sister almost more than anything else. It feels like she has come alive again.” James brought his eyes back to hers. “So bless you for that. Whoever you are. You are welcome here for as long as you would care to stay. You will always have a place with us.”
A tightness in Emme’s chest took hold again, only this time it wasn’t panic. She blinked and then dashed a tear away.
“Thank you,” she whispered again, looking to the garden to hide her emotions. A handkerchief suddenly slipped into her hand. Surprised, she turned.
“Please, don’t tell Georgiana I made you cry,” his voice teased. “She will have my head.” His crinkly smile appeared again.
Emme managed a watery grin in return.
Really, what person could be this perfect?
Oh, oh, I know! I know! Alter Emme eagerly waved her hand.
“Now come, let us not talk about worrisome things like lost memories or missing adventures.” James tucked her hand back onto his forearm and gently tugged her toward an arched doorway. Passing through the archway, a large lawn opened before them, sloping down to a glistening lake lined with trees and reeds.
With an expansive sweep of his hand, James continued, “Fine days like this do not occur so often in England that we can spoil one with gloomy thoughts about things that cannot be changed.”
Emme sighed. Was this just her luck in life? To find a perfectly wonderful man, but without her memories, be unable to do anything about it? It was bad enough to be stranded. To have lost her memory and not remember the man in the locket. Did fate really have to add this sharp attraction to James Knight as well?
It seemed decidedly unfair.
Seriously! The universe has a sick sense of humor. Alter Emme sounded frustrated as well.
“Come, ask me something outrageous.” His tone light and bantering. “I am in a mood to hear you laugh again. And sincerely this time. Not a drop of melancholy in it.”
Of course, Emme laughed at that, shaking her head, feeling her anxiety recede to a more manageable level. He needed to stop being so . . . so . . . well . . .
Dreamy? Alter Emme supplied.
No. Not helping.
“Something outrageous?” she asked, liking the teasing edge in her voice.
“Indeed,” he replied, wagging his eyebrows mockingly. “Do you feel up to the challenge?”
Emme nodded and then said the first thing that came to mind.
Utterly without thinking.
“What preparations have you made for a possible zombie apocalypse?”
Now why had she said that?
Oh yes, The Question! Perfect! Alter Emme said happily.
James blinked. Paused. As if hunting for meaning within the sentence.
“Zombie? I don’t believe I’m familiar with that word.”
As if that were the only problem he could find.
“The living dead,” Emme deadpanned.
She watched from the corner of her eye as a delighted smile spread across his face.
“The living dead?” he repeated. “Ah well, in that case, preparations are going well. One can never be too careful when dealing with the living dead.” Grinning widely now. “They could rise at any time and threaten the well-being of the entire county. I mean, they have an insatiable appetite for . . .” He paused searching for what to say next.
“Brains,” Emme helpfully supplied. “They feed on brains, preferably human ones.”
A low chuckle. “Yes, yes, brains. And of course they can only be dispatched through superb skill with a sword. In fact, I have had the local militia conducting specific zombie defense training drills. My field marshal says their fighting abilities have improved remarkably in recent months.”
“Excellent!” Her voice filled with sincere approval. “You should consider investing in some ninjas to aid in your defenses. I hear they are most useful against the living dead.”
“Ninjas?”
“Uhmmm. . . .” She hunted for the answer. “They’re like secret Japanese assassins. They wear all black and creep along in the dead of night. Deadly and silent with super sharp knives and sabers.”
“Intriguing. I would dearly love to get my hands on a squadron of them. Strictly for defense purposes, of course.” His mock-serious face was convincing. Only his dancing eyes betrayed him.
“Of course.” For some reason, the entire exchange warmed her through. As if she had been waiting a long time for this exact conversation.
“One can never be too careful with the living dead.” He seemed to be enjoying himself. “Are they intelligent?”
“Oh no,” Emme said quickly. “Their own brains have turned to mush, thankfully. They are like persistent slugs, slow, shuffling but uncaring and difficult to stop.”
But then she had to stop, because she had an image in her head of a rotting corpse, animated, shuffling forward with its arms outstretched. Which of course was an impossibility, right?
Would all of this ever make sense?
She sighed and decided the sun was too lovely and James’ honey-smooth voice too tempting to wallow in ‘what ifs.’
Instead, she laughed as he came up with zombie counter-attack maneuvers, and she followed outlining the finer points of ninjas for him.
Chapter 14
Sutton Hall
The drawing room
Two days later
May 9, 1812
Welcome!” Sir Henry boomed as they walked into the room, Emme on James’ arm. Georgiana and Arthur trailed behind. Emme stared as a portly man with permanently flushed cheeks hurried across the room to them, his impressive salt and pepper mustache vibrating as he spoke. Though ‘impressive’ was perhaps too light a term to capture his facial hair. ‘Work of art’ was a more apt description. The mustache stretched thick and expansive with slightly upturned ends completely hiding his mouth.
“Welcome,” Sir Henry repeated, stopping in front of them. “James . . . Arthur . . . Miss Knight.” He nodded his head toward each in turn. Then turning to Emme, “And this must be your lovely mystery guest.”
At her side, Emme felt James grin. “Sir Henry, please allow me to introduce Miss Emma,” he said pulling away, gesturing toward her.
Sir Henry made her a slight bow, his wide mid-section jigg
ling.
“Pleased to meet you, madam,” he said in loud clipped accents with a smile.
Or at least Emme thought he smiled. His eyes crinkled as if smiling and his mustache inched upward.
“Miss Emma, may I present our neighbor, Sir Henry Stylles?” James continued, gesturing toward their host.
Emme took a deep breath and without thinking did the first natural thing. She took three steps forward and held out her hand, preparing to shake his.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Henry,” she said giving what she hoped was a pleasant smile.
Her hand still extended, she paused as everyone in the room went instantly quiet.
Wait. . . . Everyone?
Emme looked past Sir Henry into a sea of faces, all staring back at her with startled eyes. The space seemed full of dark evening coats and shimmering silk dresses, topped with waving feathers, amongst the gilded furniture of Sir Henry’s large drawing room.
Her eyes instantly rested on a tall, dark-haired man who looked at her with disdainful gray-silver eyes. A petite woman hung on his arm wearing a gauzy lavender dress, her stare surprised. They both seemed vaguely familiar.
Wow. So awkward. Alter Emme whispered.
Emme quickly pulled her hand back to her side, darting a glance back and forth between Sir Henry and Georgiana.
“I . . .” she began and then sighed. “Obviously, I did something wrong.” She gave what she hoped was a contrite smile and looked with wide eyes at Georgiana, pleading for help.
“A lady does not shake hands with a gentleman,” Georgiana murmured quietly in her ear. “And I should have anticipated that Sir Henry would have invited half the county.”
Emme groaned inwardly. Only three minutes in and she had already blundered. It promised to be a long evening.
Haldon Manor
Georgiana’s bedroom
An hour earlier
May 9, 1812
Emme watched as Fanny finished pinning a curl. She had spent the last hour tucking and twirling Emme’s hair into an elaborate coiffure with a ribbon running throughout, soft curls framing her face. The overall effect was . . . good. Lovely. With a pleased expression, Emme rose and turned to Georgiana sitting in a chair behind her.