by Jun, Kristi
Yes and no. She saw him watching her carefully. “My decision to leave has everything to do with finding the murderer. That is our top priority, isn’t it? I am not needed here and please don’t try to spare my feelings and tell me it isn’t so. While I may not have your fighting skills, or years spent spying, I can be of use, but not here. If I return to London, I can assist Lord Tomkin, and I can inquire about Jimmy, too.” She watched his expression, his jaws twitching as if he was ready to argue his point. “The truth is, being here…,” with you, “at times makes me forget about my purpose and I don’t ever want to forget.”
“No, it’s too dangerous,” Michael said. “Besides, Lord Tomkin ordered you to remain here. Remember?”
Emma had a feeling that Michael wasn’t telling her everything. “I do remember. But you know as well as I do that I can’t find my parents’ killer if I am here.”
He sighed heavily. “I had hoped to wait until later, but it seems I have no choice in the matter. The prisoner was murdered tonight near the property. The killer may still be nearby.”
“Killed?” she said, horrified. “How?”
“He was stabbed, multiple times.” He watched her for a brief moment. “It’s dangerous for you to be traveling across the country on your own.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he quickly beat her to it. “I didn’t come here tonight to discuss the dead prisoner.”
“Oh?”
“When all this is over,” Michael said, “I think it would be only right that we marry.”
“Marry?” She asked, confused.
“Yes.” Michael watched her.
“I don’t understand. What has prompted you to ask me this?”
“You know very well why I am asking.”
“Because we made love?” Dread pooled inside her. He wanted to marry her not because he loved her, but because of duty, his honor.
“It’s the right thing to do.”
She saw it in his eyes, the guilt. “You don’t need to protect me. I’m not naive. I knew what I was doing and I certainly didn’t expect you to propose to me. I wanted to be with you. I chose to be with you. Call it lust, if you like, but we both know marriage between us will never work.”
“I don’t make a habit of bedding virgins.”
His statement stung because he just confirmed her suspicion. “No, I suppose you don’t.” She didn’t know which was worse. Michael admitting that he’d made a mistake. Or telling her that he was forced to marry her because of his honor. “Don’t worry, Michael.” Her tone was bitter and full of resentment. “I don’t need your charity. Please don’t taint what we shared by insulting me.”
He sighed and tipped her chin to look at him. “This isn’t charity, Emma. It’s the right thing to do.”
“It wasn’t that long ago when you put a knife about my neck, remember?”
“That was to make a point. Besides, you and I…, it isn’t that simple,” he admitted.
“Precisely,” she said. “You see, there should be no doubt in your mind if I am the right woman for you. If you truly had genuine affection for me, wanted to marry me, it wouldn’t be complicated because the answer is right here.” She touched her heart. “Without a doubt.” She shook her head. “I will not be caged up in a marriage that is doomed from the beginning.”
He sighed. “What is it that you want from me, Emma?”
She felt the frustration build in the pit of her stomach. She bit back the words that could never be uttered out loud: I love you, damn it. “Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want anything from you. I don’t want promises. In fact, I free you of your burden, Michael.”
His brows pulled together as if offended. “It’s not a burden. It’s my responsibility and despite what you think of me I want to be there for you.”
Because of duty—his honor. Not because he loved her. She knew him well enough to know that he’d forgo his own happiness for honor and that was the last thing she wanted from him. No, she could not live with that knowledge. They would only resent each other in the end.
“Thank you for the offer,” she said. “But I have my own plans. Remember? I am going to start anew in American when all this is over.” She tried to smile, but she failed miserably. “I think I will retire now.” She started to walk away, but stopped and faced him. “I think it’s best if we don’t pursue this any further.”
An amalgam of emotions surged through her, but she kept quiet as he trailed behind her into the house. While she may be cursed to love this man for the rest of her life, she wouldn’t be a fool to think that what he felt for her had more to do with affection than lust.
Michael escorted Emma to her room with a sense of uneasiness between them. “I meant everything I said, Emma.” She looked as though she had something to say to him, but she didn’t. Instead, she bid him goodnight, slipped into her room and closed the door.
With a heavy sigh, he proceeded toward his bedroom until his twin blocked his path. The visible scar he’d inflicted on William years ago reminded him of the day they nearly killed each other.
“How’s Mother?” Michael asked.
“She sleeps,” William said.
No matter what had transpired between them, William was the better man. Not only did he take care of their Mother and Kyra, William had increased the family’s coffers two fold after their father passed. He seemed to genuinely care about his duties. It was a painful reminder to Michael that his presence here only caused them more pain. From that respect, he stayed away when William asked him never to come back.
“A lovers’ quarrel?” William said, his tone taunting.
“She’s tired from the journey,” Michael said. “As am I.”
“I meant what I said,” William said. “Geoffrey was a good man. He will be missed.”
“He was,” he said. He was certain William would have preferred Geoffrey as his brother.
“But rightly, you should have delivered the news to Mother and Kyra.”
“I’m well aware of that,” Michael said.
“Where the hell were you?” William barked.
I was on a mission to find the damn killer. His jaws flinched. “I was indisposed.”
His brother gazed at the bruises on his knuckles and hand. “Another fight? What happened this time?”
“It couldn’t be avoided.”
William sighed. “You’ll never learn, will you? You live too recklessly. But if that’s how you choose to live your life that is your business. When will you leave?”
“In a few days.”
“Good,” William said, nodding. “While your lovely fiancée may have won over Kyra and Mother, your presence here still upsets them. They won’t speak of it, but I sense it.”
He wasn’t in the mood for this. Not now. “If that’s what you want to believe.” Michael started to walk away, but William stopped him. “Get out of my way,” Michael warned.
“Or what?” William said. “Resort to brutality?”
Michael clenched his jaw, balling his hands into fists.
“Ashley would have liked your fiancée.” William sighed as if to steady himself.
Yes, she would have liked Emma, Michael thought. When he found Ashley at Gretna Green, she begged him not to tell their family what had transpired there, that her beau failed to show. She begged him to leave her, to give her time. How was he to know her malady would return with full force that night? He should have stayed with her. Hot anger and grief burned in his chest.
“I know you don’t care for my opinion, but you will be married soon. Unless you intend to run out on her, too, I suggest you heed my words and take your duty seriously this time, for Emma’s sake.”
“I am well aware of my responsibilities,” Michael noted. He’d paid the price for keeping his family in the dark to keep them safe. To keep them safe, he stayed away. No matter how much he wanted to protect them, he realized his presence only brought back bitter memories for everyone.
Emma listened as William
and Michael conversed outside her door, the tension and hostility oozing from their tones. Did Ashley take her own life? How awful and tragic. When the two brothers finally parted, she pulled away from the door. A sense of sadness pricked her heart. For two people who couldn’t possibly be any closer, there was a sense of lingering sadness and resentment between them. She did not pretend to comprehend the gravity of their predicament.
What was the root of their resentment? For such capable and intelligent men they hadn’t a clue what it meant to be a family. Not that she had the answers either, but there had to be a better way to deal with their resentment, wasn’t there?
Perhaps a good night’s rest in a warm bed would renew her energy. But she feared it had nothing to do with the lack of sleep, and the only option left for her was to leave Chatham Hall.
CHAPTER 19
With the sound of thunder crack outside, Emma’s eyes snapped open in the darkness. Looking around in confusion, it took another few seconds for her to realize where she was: Chatham Hall in Oxfordshire.
Rolling onto her side, she took a deep breath. She’d been on the road with Michael for over a week now and she wondered if she’d ever find justice for her parents and finally go home.
Home? A sobering thought pricked her.
She had no home. Not anymore.
While she cared very much for Kyra and her family, she could not help but feel so alone in this house. When she’d been living in Lord Tomkin’s townhouse, her solid determination was intact. She knew her purpose. But being here? All of that seemed to fade away.
Sitting up, she fumbled around in the dark on the night table. “Now where is that matchbox?” Finding it, she pulled out a single match and with one quick flick of her hand ignited the flame. She lit the candles one by one on the candelabra.
Light spilled out into the darkness of the quaint guest room. Her stomach suddenly growled. She hadn’t been in the mood to eat during dinner with Michael’s family. The ambiance in the dining room had been somber and no one was in the mood to converse either. In many ways, she was thankful for the silence. It gave her time to think and simple be there for Kyra and her family.
She looked at the pull cord next to the bed. It would be another hour or so before the servants started their day and the thought of waking the servants earlier than usual didn’t feel right to her. While looking at the ornate clock on the mantle again, another growl rumbled in her belly. Her hunger got the better of her judgment. She grabbed her nightrail and pulled her arms through the sleeves, then picked up the candelabra on the night table and opened the door to peek out.
Nothing but the sound of the rain pouring down.
Good.
She tip-toed quietly into the hallway and the wood squeaked under her bare feet. She froze, her heart pumping in her ribcage. The last thing she wanted was to be noticed at this hour and in her nightgown, no less. Lightening her steps, she treaded softly to the stairs and made her way down, her hand gliding down the polished banister.
Passing the foyer, she went down the hallway, past the morning room, and the library toward the servants’ hallway. Holding the candelabra higher, she walked toward the back of the house. Just then, she saw a door to her left. There it is. Narrow stairs spilled out into a large kitchen.
Honestly, it was like a maze down here. Just when she was about to enter the heart of the kitchen, slow heavy footsteps sounded from the dark hallway.
“Who’s there,” the woman said.
Emma frowned. No more than a few seconds later, an older plump middle-aged woman with red curls tied in a knot appeared out of the darkness.
“Miss…?” she said crinkling her nose and glaring at her.
“I am sorry. Please,” Emma said in a hushed tone. “I don’t want to wake the house.”
“Are ye lost, Miss?”
The woman looked at her most curiously. Emma understood that all too well, after all she was intruding upon her domain. “No, I’m not, actually. I know it’s quite early, but perhaps I could find something to eat, if it’s not too much trouble?”
Her frown morphed into a wide smile. “I think I just might be able to help ye with that, Miss,” she said. “I’m the cook. What would ye like me to cook up for ye, Miss?”
“I don’t want to trouble you.” Her tummy growled again. Emma touched her belly the instant it made another grumbling noise. “Anything you have on hand is fine, thank you.”
The woman perched her hands on her waist. “Well…I’ve got day ol’ bread and some sliced roast beef. I can make you a sandwich, if you don’t want to wait for a hot meal?”
“That sounds lovely, thank you.” Emma put the candelabra down on the center table and sat on the stool.
The woman pulled off her apron from the hook on the wall and put it on. Emma watched as the cook pulled a plate off the counter, then grabbed two pieces of bread from the corner stand and slapped it on the plate. Putting it on the rectangular pine table in the center of the kitchen, the cook proceeded to walk down the hall. She disappeared for a few minutes, then reappeared holding a tray of sliced meat.
The cook smiled and went to work while Emma watched. The woman assembled the sandwich like she could do it in her sleep and handed her the plate.
“Thank you.” Emma took the first bite, the flavors bursting in her mouth. “This is delicious.”
“Yer welcome, Miss.”
The cook gazed at Emma for a long moment, as if she had something to share. After taking another large bite of the delicious sandwich, she put it down on her plate. “What is it?” Emma asked watching the cook. “Have I made a mess of myself?” Emma wiped her mouth with her hand.
“No,” the woman said thoughtfully, smiling at her. “If ye don’t mind me sayin’, it’s just awfully good to see Mr. Whitfield back home again.”
Emma heard the emotion in the cook’s tone. “You care about his family very much.”
Cook shook her head. “I’ll be giving ye my opinion for what it’s worth. The two of you make a mighty fine pair, if ye ask me. I think ye are good for him. He needs a strong woman like yerself.”
“I see,” Emma said surprised at the woman’s frankness. This really ought to be none of her business, but somehow it didn’t matter. There was something in her eyes that was kind and Emma found it to be comforting. Besides, sitting on the stool in her nightrail, gobbling a sandwich like a starved child in the kitchen somehow unraveled the ceremony between them.
“Ye brought him home, finally after all those years.” She went to grab a jar from the counter and poured flour on the wooden counter. “After ye are married and with children, I hope ye come visit her ladyship often. She loves babies, her ladyship.” The cook smiled. “I think she would have loved more, if she weren’t so…delicate. And she’s suffered more than one person should bear in one lifetime, if ye don’t mind me sayin’.”
The cook went on as if she were speaking with a close family member. In truth, Emma found her candor refreshing. Emma took another big bite of the sandwich. “This is his home and I am sure he would have eventually come home with or without me.”
The cook shook her head with sympathy. “If ye don’t mind me sayin’, it’s never been the same since….” The cook looked away and wiped the tears with her apron.
Obviously the woman cared deeply about her employer and his family. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”
“It took her ladyship nearly three months to face the world again after poor Miss Ashley passed. Her ladyship closed the door on the world…on all of us. I may be just a cook, Miss, but we all miss her below stairs.”
Ashley? “Who was she?”
“Mr. Whitfield’s sister, Miss. They were very close, the two of them.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Cook waved her hand. “Tis a long time ago, Miss.”
Emma patiently waited, hoping to shine some light on why the two brothers were so hateful toward one another. Could it have anything to do with
their sister?
The cook gathered the flour with her hands, made a mound and wet it, then started working the flour into the dough. She wiped the tears with her shirt sleeve and continued her work. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, poor ladyship. I’ve been with the family for nearly four decades, starting out as a scullery maid when I was sixteen myself. I have to say in all those years, I have never seen her ladyship so broken as when she lost her child.”
Emma was beginning to see part of the puzzle. Ashley was Michael’s sister. How painful it must have been for her ladyship. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to Miss Ashley?”
The woman kneading the dough smiled warmly at her. “Ye see, Miss Ashley…tsk, tsk, tsk. She was such a sweet young thing. It’s just a tragedy, a tragedy I tell ye.” The cook wiped her tears with her white apron and went on. “Mr. Whitfield was back from Cambridge to visit the family as he always done and discovered Miss Ashley had eloped.”
“Eloped?”
The cook nodded. “She was madly in love with a farmer’s son, Mr. Mallory. A handsome young man, he was.”
Emma knew Society could be quite ruthless if the rules were broken. One can be a target of ridicule, humiliation and even shunned from Polite Society. Sorrow swelled in her heart for the young girl in love, feeling the familiar heartbreak she once felt a year ago.
“He was a fine lad and despite his station, the earl agreed to allow her the choice after her coming out ball.”
Society had rigid rules for anyone born into a family of nobility. If she were honest, the rules were antiquated, but even Emma understood the price of going against social mores. It must have been quite difficult for her and her family. “How old was she?”
“Sixteen, Miss,” the cook answered.
“So she’d have had to wait two years?” That was an awfully long time for such a young woman in love.
“Little over a year, since the young Miss would have been seventeen end of February. She was not willing to wait. Neither was the young man.”