by Lucy Langton
“Is it something to do with Latin? I loathe the subject,” Deirdre replied, frowning.
“No, it has nothing to do with Latin, I assure you. Do sit down,” Emilia instructed. Deirdre did as she was told, seating herself on the floor in front of Emilia, wide-eyed with expectation. “What if I told you that my former employers are holding a ball, nearby in Castle Comb, and they’d be most excited if you would attend.”
“Is that true?” Deirdre asked with shock. Emilia almost felt sorry for the girl, thinking it strange and unnatural that she was never invited to such events. Perhaps all of Castle Comb knew of the Earl of Cunningham, and the tight grip he had on his sister.
“Of course it’s true,” Emilia went on. “You’re a bright, beautiful young woman who shall come out into society soon. It’s only natural that you should attend balls and the like.”
“But I have nothing to wear,” Deirdre said darkly.
“That is easy to amend. Your brother has the funds to give you proper attire.”
“He’ll never say yes, you realise. I was invited to a ball some months back, and he outright refused. He said it was because there was no one to accompany me.”
“Winnifred could have gone with you.”
“I brought up that possibility,” Deirdre explained, “but Winnifred protested, saying that she needed to spend the entirety of the evening marinating a roasting a fresh duck.”
“Well, that seems like a rather strange excuse to me.”
“Yes, it was an excuse all right. She wants to lock me up within these walls as much as Joshua.”
“With that I can’t agree,” Emilia explained. “I think that Winnifred wants for your happiness, more than you know.”
“I shall go and demand right this second that my brother permit me to attend,” Deirdre said, getting up indignantly and walking towards the door.
“Lady Deirdre, no,” Emilia protested, getting up as well and physically stopping the girl by placing her hand on her forearm. “This must be undertaken delicately for us to have any success. Allow me to broach the subject myself, in a gentle way.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Deirdre went on, quickly relenting. “You do seem to have some sway over him.”
“I’m not sure that I can agree.”
“I told you that I notice the way that he looks at you. Well the looks have . . . changed, in the past number of days.”
“In what way do you mean?” Emilia asked, feeling a flush come to her cheek.
“Well. Let’s just say that, when you pass, his eyes follow you like a puppy following its master.”
“Lady Deirdre! That is entirely untrue. If anything, it should be the opposite. He is my master after all.”
“Yes, but still, there’s something about the way that he follows you with his eyes. When he hears footsteps down the hall, he quickly turns to see who it might be, and my belief is that he thinks that it might be you.”
“How absurd, Lady Deirdre. Let’s stop this conversation at once,” Emilia said, turning away.
“Because you’re becoming flustered.”
“I am not.”
“Of course you are, I can see it in your face.”
“Such nonsense,” Emilia replied, turning away so that Deirdre could read her face no further.
“Go to him now, Emilia,” Deirdre said, holding on to Emilia’s hand. “I can’t bear to wait the whole day not knowing what he might say. He’s in his study. Please ask him now.”
“He is no longer in his study. The hour has come where he is taking his second cup of tea in his chambers.”
Emilia immediately regretted it after saying it. Yes, she had memorised the earl’s schedule, but it was only because they had been living in close proximity for a number of weeks. It was important that she knew where he was at what hour, if only for the purpose of best doing her job as a governess.
Despite justifying all this in her mind, Emilia could see delight written on Deirdre’s face, and she couldn’t help but feel as though she had been found out by the earl’s sister.
“Then go to him in his chambers,” Deirdre said, giggling.
“Come now, Lady Deirdre.”
“Please, Emilia. I must know now. I’m dying with anticipation!”
Deirdre was tugging on Emilia’s arm, practically begging her to do something that Emilia would never think to do.
“Very well,” Emilia replied, feeling the familiar butterflies in her stomach again. “I shall go and have a word with him.”
“Wonderful!” Deirdre exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air with joy. “I shall wait out in the garden.”
“If you do that,” Emilia replied, duty taking over her, “then be sure to read this,” she added, handing Deirdre the copy of Sophocles.
“Oh drat,” Deirdre replied with a frown.
“Go on now, and wish me luck,” Emilia said.
“I wish you all the luck in the world.”
Once Deirdre had left, Emilia took a moment to collect herself. Every time she encountered the earl she feared that a fit of nerves would overtake her, merely for the way in which he made her feel – slightly off-balance and woozy.
Making her way down the hall and up the stairs to the earl’s private chambers, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. But the earl had said himself the previous morning that Emilia had free rein within the house, so perhaps approaching him in such a manner wasn’t as improprietous as it felt.
Emilia gently knocked upon the door and awaited his reply.
“Come in,” he finally said.
Opening the door, Emilia peeked her head in at first, unsure as to what she might find. The earl was seated at a small table that was placed in front of the window. As she suspected, a steaming cup of tea sat before him, and a number of papers that he was reading intently.
The room was well-appointed, the furnishings upholstered in a soft green. The bed, which was a grand four-poster, sat at the opposite end of the room, and it was covered in a rich, cream- coloured blanket.
“I hope that I’m not disturbing you,” Emilia said, feeling a lump develop in her throat.
The earl turned, and Emilia noted the look of shock upon his face. Perhaps he was expecting Hugh to be standing there in the doorway. His surprise turned to the customary dismissal as he looked away and regarded his pages yet again.
“Come in,” the earl said coldly, motioning towards a nearby chair.
“I’d prefer to stand, if you don’t mind,” Emilia said, hoping to maintain her ground.
“As you wish.”
“It is a beautiful day, is it not?” Emilia said, trying to begin with pleasantries.
“What is it you wish to say,” the earl said, cutting to the chase.
“I received a letter this morning. A letter from my former employer,” Emilia began to explain. Once she said it, the earl looked up from his pages and out the window.
“Yes?”
“And well, Lady Anne and Lady Sophie Hutchinson informed me that there is to be a ball at their estate, in one week’s time.”
“So?”
“I wanted to ask you if it might be all right for me to attend.”
“Why do you wish to attend?” the earl asked, turning towards her. His gaze was steely and untrusting. Why should he be so opposed to her attending a ball? He was certainly a man who maintained tight boundaries around those within his home.
“I think that it might be rather amusing, and I miss the Hutchinson girls so.”
“You wish to go back there?” the earl asked, taking a deep inhalation of breath.
“Quite the contrary. I am enjoying my time here, increasingly more with each day.”
The earl seemed relieved by that last statement, and the expression of it warmed Emilia’s heart.
“But not only was I invited. Lady Deirdre was invited as well.”
Silence followed as the earl tried to collect his words. Instead of responding immediately, he turned back towards his desk and c
ombed his hand through his hair. Not able to endure the anticipation a moment longer, Emilia decided to continue to speak.
“I think it would be so good for her to have an experience outside of Glastonbrook. I think she feels trapped here, from time to time. When the day comes where she will step out into society, it would be so beneficial for her if she already had a number of experiences in society. There is an art and skill to it, you see.”
“I am aware of that, Miss Stewart,” the earl replied heavily.
“And for that reason, I think this is a marvellous opportunity for her. I will be her chaperone, of course. I can guide her every step of the way. And the Hutchinsons have such a warm and welcoming home. I think it’s a great place for her to start.”
“The answer is no,” the earl said plainly.
“But M’Lord,” Emilia said, becoming indignant and stepping closer to him. “I must say that if you love your sister you will not sequester her in this way,” she said, surprised by her own passion regarding the subject. “True love does not hold people in but it sets them free. You need to show her that you trust her, and you cannot do that with the firm grip that you have upon her life.”
“Miss Stewart, I do not wish to continue this conversation,” the earl said, getting up from his seat and stepping towards her. “I have commanded you to obey me in all things, and that is in regard to this conversation as well. I do keep a firm grip on the life of my younger sister, it is true. But that is for reasons that I have already expressed to you and other reasons that you do not know. You are not permitted to question me on this.”
The earl stood tall over Emilia, and she looked up at him, unsure whether she should continue to fight or relent. She did not wish to give up so easily, but she found the earl’s physical presence so intimidating that she was unsure she should continue to fight. Instead, she stepped back. Having him stand before her so only filled her mind with memories of his touch, and that filled her body with warmth and longing.
“Very well, I shall trouble you no further,” Emilia replied, walking back towards the door. She knew not why, but tears threatened to form in her eyes.
“Miss Stewart,” the earl said, stopping her before she could exit the room.
“Yes, M’Lord,” Emilia replied, turning back towards him and lowering her gaze.
“You shall take supper with us tonight,” the earl commanded, seating himself yet again.
“I beg your pardon?” Emilia asked.
“I said, in plain terms, that you’re to take supper with us tonight. There’s nothing else to be said.”
“Very well,” Emilia replied, curtsying.
“We’ll discuss the matter further at that time.”
“Yes, M’Lord,” Emilia said, exiting the room and closing the door behind her.
How was it that the earl’s behaviour was so perplexing? At one moment he was barking commands at her, and the very next he was inviting her to dine at his table for supper. Was it his keen intention to keep her off-balance at all times? If so, his plan was working.
The day passed with exquisite ease. The good weather would not relent and Deirdre and Emilia enjoyed their time outdoors immensely, reading Sophocles in the garden and watching as tiny shrubs tried to poke their heads up through the soil. Once, as she and her young charge were picking blackberries from a bush, Emilia briefly looked up to the earl’s window and found that he was looking down at her. Filled with embarrassment, Emilia quickly looked away and returned her attention to the berries. Looking up once more, surreptitiously, she noted that the earl had not removed his gaze.
*
The day was so pleasant, the hours quickly passed, and supper was fast upon them. Emilia took great pains to get herself ready, washing her face and hands, as well as changing into a fresh gown, the most modest one that she owned.
Making her way down to the dining room, she passed through the kitchen and encountered Winnifred, hard at work on a soup and a ham.
“You’re too early, my dear. We won’t have supper for another hour,” Winnifred said.
“Actually.” Emilia replied bashfully. “I’ll be taking supper with the earl and his sister this evening.”
“Is that so?” Winnifred asked, lifting her brow. “I hope it won’t go to that pretty head of yours.”
“I promise you that it won’t,” Emilia replied, leaning in to smell the fragrant soup.
“Well, go on then, you’ll be eating this soon enough,” Winnifred said, shooing Emilia away. “And be sure to mind your manners.”
Entering the dining hall, Emilia found that the earl was already seated, as was Deirdre, who had an immense grin upon her face.
“Sit,” the earl commanded, not looking at her.
“Yes, M’Lord.”
Emilia seated herself and daintily placed her napkin upon her lap. Hugh immediately entered, carrying a bottle of wine, and he began to pour. Within the silence that followed, Winnifred also made an entrance, carrying the tureen of soup, followed by a tray of roast pheasant with a side of roast vegetables. It felt rather odd to be served by Hugh and Winnifred in that manner, and Emilia found that she had to stifle an enormous, mischievous smile.
“There’s something that I need to discuss with you two,” the earl finally said, putting down his soup spoon and taking a sip from his wine glass.
“What is it?” Deirdre asked, putting down her fork and no doubt expecting the worst.
“I have been considering Miss Stewart’s plea this afternoon,” the earl began, and Emilia leaned in with anticipation.
“And?” Deirdre asked, also on the end of her seat.
“I think that I find the notion of it tolerable at best.”
“Does that mean that I can go?” Deirdre asked excitedly.
“You can go,” the earl replied coldly. “Provided that Miss Stewart is always by your side, and you behave in a manner that would make our parents proud.”
“Joshua!” Deirdre exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air and wildly giggling. Emilia could not help but share in the laughter and excitement. Her heart leapt to think that the earl had considered her plea carefully, and finally relented.
“Calm down, sister. Remember that you are at table,” the earl said with the seriousness of a general.
“Yes, brother,” Deirdre said, stifling her giggles.
In the silence that followed, the earl turned towards Emilia. Then, quite unexpectedly, the Earl of Cunningham smiled as well. It was the first time that she had beheld such a beautiful expression upon his handsome face.
Chapter 11
As if one day of sunshine and beauty weren’t enough of a shock at Glastonbrook, Emilia was delighted to find that the subsequent days were just as lovely; filled with joy and anticipation for the ball at the Hutchinson estate. Although Emilia was excited as ever to attend, she was also realistic about the fact she’d be there as a chaperone, no more.
That she had even been invited was thrilling enough. In the past at the Hutchinson soirees, Emilia would always dress in modest apparel. She didn’t own any finery, nor did she wish to appear as though she were something that she was not. The upcoming ball would be much the same. She’d remain on the sidelines, observing the proceedings with relish, but Emilia wouldn’t dare to step within the party itself. To do so would be to overstep her bounds to no end.
But that was not to say that it wasn’t the highlight of Emilia’s year. As she watched the beautiful ladies dancing, their gowns an endless kaleidoscope of colours and textures, she’d dream of what it might feel like to be wrapped in satin and lace. She’d imagine the feeling of crystals and diamonds hanging from her ears, of pearls around her neck, and silk gloves riding up her arms.
Often on these occasions she’d also imagine dancing with handsome gentlemen. Although she was not adept at those country dances, she imagined that with time and practice, and the guiding of a gentleman’s careful hand, she too would one day master the art of the cotillion. She’d drink lemonade and enj
oy moist, sweet cake, all whilst in the company of those enjoying good conversation and gaiety.
Of course, to enter that inner set of society, Emilia would need wealth. And that’s essentially where her dream would be solidified as fantasy and no more. Oh, but what joy she’d feel to see Deirdre deep within it all, enjoying it as her reality, and not just a fit of the imagination. She considered that look of joy she’d no doubt find on Deirdre’s face as she for the first time experienced what it was to be like in the upper echelon of society.