“What about?” Emmaline asked.
“It’s of a personal nature,” Margarete said, looking uncomfortable. But she recovered quickly. “That’s a lovely dress. You must be going somewhere special tonight.”
“It’s the Solstice Ball,” Emmaline said. “All the young women my age are going.”
“Ah, I see,” Margarete smiled. “It must be your coming out, is it?”
Emmaline nodded. “My father is taking me soon.”
“I hadn’t realized you were so grown,” Margarete said wistfully. “Well, I’m sure you’ll make quite the impression in that dress. It’s becoming on you.”
The praise pleased Emmaline, and she spun in her dress to show it off even more as it caught the direct light. “What was your coming out like?” she asked.
She didn’t know why, but Margarete seemed saddened by the question. She swallowed visibly, touching her chest lightly with a hand.
“Not like yours will be, I expect,” Margarete managed to say. “I suppose a charming young girl like you already has your dance card filled. Young women like you always seem to have a list of gentlemen they’d like to meet.”
Emmaline shook her head. “I don’t know anyone yet. Father is going to introduce me tonight.”
That wasn’t entirely true, she realized after she said it. She knew that young mechanist from the dinner party. And she’d maintained a pleasant conversation with him. Had it not been for the sudden disruption she was sure she’d have been able to carry it on for at least another ten minutes.
He’d said he wouldn’t be coming to the ball, however, which disappointed Emmaline. It would have been nice to have seen at least one familiar face there.
“Well, perhaps you’ll meet a special someone soon,” Margarete said. “They’re a tad—”
“Emmaline!” Her father’s voice snapped so severely that Emmaline dropped her shoes. They fell to the floor with two faint thuds.
Worthington stood in the doorway, filling it with his immense frame so he seemed to block out the light coming through. He bore a hard expression, but it wasn’t trained on her. He was glaring at Margarete. In a slow motion she arose from the couch.
“Hello, Terrin,” she said.
Emmaline gave her a queer look. It was strange to hear her father addressed by his first name.
“May we talk?”
Her father breathed deep audible breaths, his jaw clenched so tightly Emmaline could see the veins in his neck rising to the surface of his skin.
“Wait in your room,” he told Emmaline. He said it almost without moving his jaw. “I’ll send for you when I’m ready. I have a matter to attend to before we go.”
Emmaline thought of reminding her father about the time, but decided against it as the room continued to grow colder under his glare. Turning to Margarete, she curtsied politely. “I hope you’re able to—”
“Now, Emmaline!”
Her father’s voice ripped her from the room and propelled her down the hall until she was safely at the bottom of the stairs. She met Geoffrey coming down.
“There you are,” he said in his stuffy voice. “Your father just sent me to fetch you from your room.”
“Who was that woman?” Emmaline asked. Her breath was still catching up with her as she looked back toward the parlor.
“Margarete?” Geoffrey asked. “She’s an acquaintance of your father’s. As to the nature of their relationship, I’m not certain I’m at liberty to say.”
“He doesn’t seem to like her at all,” Emmaline observed.
“Perhaps not,” Geoffrey shrugged. “Relationships can be complicated. But that is your father’s business. As for you, I might suggest you wait in your room until your father is finished.”
“Oh, alright,” Emmaline conceded.
Clasping her dress so as not to trip over it, she climbed the stairs. What an odd encounter, she thought. She’d never seen her father act that way toward another adult before, and it piqued her curiosity. She wondered what the woman could have done to deserve such reproach.
As she returned to her room, Emmaline frowned at a sudden realization. The woman hadn’t asked about her necklace! She wondered if perhaps she’d spent too much time practicing that particular talking point.
CHAPTER NINE
Blackmail
“HOW DARE YOU COME HERE,” Worthington said once he’d closed the door to his study. He took a few steps toward his desk and then rounded on Margarete as she stood composed in the center of the room. “How dare you speak to my daughter! Do you have any idea what meeting you might do to her? I forbade you from coming here while my family is within the city. What were you thinking?”
“I needed to see you,” Margarete said, intent on getting to the point as quickly as possible. She stood rigid, her chin held high against his ranting. No force of words would unhinge her now. Her mind was made up, her intention fixed.
“Whatever it is couldn’t have waited?” Worthington asked.
“No,” Margarete said, her voice steady. “It couldn’t.”
“What then?” he demanded, sitting on the edge of his desk and throwing his arms up in the air in agitation. “What is so important that it’s worth jeopardizing the harmony of my home?”
“I’m leaving,” Margarete said.
She was watching his expression as she said it, looking to discern any hints to his feelings at the news. Sure enough, his expression softened and then his brow furrowed as confusion settled over him. He’d not expected that.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “What are you saying?”
“I’m leaving Hatteras,” Margarete explained. “At the earliest opportunity.”
Worthington place a hand on the edge of his desk, the other scratched at his chin. “And where would you go?”
“Anywhere,” she said. It was a difficult question for her to answer. So far she was managing only one step at a time. Even she didn’t know her final destination. But there would be plenty of time to decide that once she was beyond Worthington’s influence.
Stepping behind his desk, Worthington took his seat. He looked as though she’d wounded him as he looked at her with saddened eyes. “Why would you leave now?”
“What reason do I have to stay?”
“I…” Worthington’s words caught in his throat. “I would have thought that was clear.”
“Nothing is clear anymore,” Margarete said. “And I’m fairly certain nothing ever was. I’m finished, Terrin. I’m through with Hatteras. I’m through with this life. I can’t spend another day being handled like some cheap commodity.”
“You’re not a cheap one,” Worthington said.
Margarete looked at him horrified and Worthington winced as he recognized his poor choice of words.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he assured her. “I just… I don’t know what to say.” He rubbed his head in thought, his face twisted up. “You’re certain there isn’t some other reason you’ve decided to go?”
Margarete sensed what he was referring to. “No,” she assured him. “This is about me. I have no future here. There’s nothing more for me to do but try to start over somewhere new.”
“But…” Worthington was still struggling to find his words. “I thought you and I—”
“What about you and I?” Margarete pressed. “You said it only a moment ago, I’m not welcome in your life while your family is here. I’m sorry, Terrin, but I have a life of my own to live without waiting for one you may never be able to provide.”
Worthington’s expression sank even lower. He stared hard at his desk. “When would you go?”
“As soon as I’m able to get my affairs in order. Which is why I’m here now.”
Margarete held out a stiff arm as she offered Worthington the letter she had prepared. He took it reluctantly.
“It’s a list of compensations I’m due before I leave.”
“Compensations?” Worthington asked. “What nonsense are you speaking, Margarete? This a
ll is very unlike you.”
His brow furrowed again when she made no response, and he skimmed the page. Margarete did her best to remain steady as she watched his expression sink even further.
“My god,” he said. “You’re serious?”
“I need safe passage out of Hatteras,” Margarete explained. “And enough to make a fresh start once I’m gone. Beyond that, I ask for nothing more. I’ll go, and you can enjoy harmony with your family. I think we can agree I’m not demanding anything beyond what we can rightfully expect for my services.”
Worthington held the letter back as though it might harm him as he reread segments.
“And what if I said I don’t want you to go?” he asked. “I cannot think of what Hatteras would be like if I knew you were no longer here. If this is because of what I said earlier, it’s not that I don’t care about you. Only, there are certain customs I must uphold for the good of all of us. I did not speak lightly when I said that I love you, Margarete.”
Margarete winced at the words, but as quickly as the pain came she remembered what Charlotte had said about men’s love.
“I didn’t ask for your love,” she said as apathetically as possible. “I’m asking for your help.”
“I won’t do it,” Worthington said, tossing the letter down on his desk. “I simply cannot see you go.”
“If you have any semblance of pity for me, then you will,” Margarete pleaded. “Please, don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. Than it already is.”
“As a man in love, I cannot,” Worthington said with resolution. “You must understand, Margarete. Don’t you? A man in my position is hard pressed to go against the feelings of his heart. I would never forgive myself if I did not fight to keep you.”
Margarete closed her eyes, their edges damp as she let out a slow breath and a prayer for strength.
“Then you’ve left me no choice,” she said. Reaching into her purse she drew out a second letter. Stepping forward, she set it down before him. Worthington recognized his own penmanship and snatched it up.
“This is one of the letters I sent you,” he said.
“Yes, it is.”
He looked it over, his eyes drawn to the portion she’d underlined earlier. This time, his expression did not sink or soften, but regained its rigidity. His jaw clenched and his temple beat visibly.
“You’re blackmailing me?”
“I’ve taken precautions to see that you fulfill my request,” Margarete explained. “When I’ve been compensated for my services, then I will hand over the rest of your letters and you will be released from all future obligations.”
“After all I’ve done for you, you repay me with a threat?” Worthington’s voice was rising. “These words were spoken in confidence!” He threw the letter in his anger and it fluttered like an injured bird over the edge of his desk and onto the floor.
Margarete fought to keep her expression calm against his outburst.
“If there’s one thing the meritocracy has taught me,” she said, “it is that it takes a certain amount of maneuvering to get ahead. Our relationship will only harm us if it’s permitted to continue. It’s in both of our best interests to see me go.”
“How dare you speak to what is in my best interest.” Worthington rose from his chair and leaned forward over his desk. His face was red and his body shook as he spoke. “Have you forgotten all that I have done for you? What I’ve given you? Do you not remember what luxuries and privileges I brought to you with my generosity?”
“I don’t want your luxuries,” Margarete said. “And I don’t want your generosity. I want my freedom.”
“Get out!” Worthington shouted. He was in hysterics. “Get out of my house!”
Margarete clasped her purse and turning toward the door. She felt herself shaking. Yet, despite every instinct urging her to run, she stopped with her hand on the knob. “I’ll expect you’ll honor my request by the end of the week.”
“Get out!” Worthington roared.
Margarete stepped through and pulled the door shut behind her before hurrying from the house. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up the brave face.
After considering your last letter, I believe you are right. To delay your coming over any longer would be a missed opportunity. I’ve already arranged for everything. A year from now we’ll see you and Emmaline here in Hatteras at last. It has been too long.
—Excerpt from Worthington’s Summons to His Family
CHAPTER TEN
The Solstice Ball
“FATHER?” EMMALINE ASKED, TUGGING ON Worthington’s arm.
Emmaline and her father were on the second floor of the governor’s mansion with a small collection of his business associates. They’d been making their rounds through the many guests for the better part of an hour, circling the immense ballroom as her father introduced her to each of his more noteworthy contacts.
They’d met so many people that names were blurring together, but Emmaline didn’t let that worry her. There would be time for reintroductions later. Tonight was about first impressions, and as far as she was aware she’d been doing quite well with each encounter. She was complimented frequently by the men and women they met, and a few had even offered to introduce her to their sons.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much time, and they were forced not to linger too long at any one person or group. But as they excused themselves it was evident that many were taken by this sweet new blossom from Sorrento. She’d even made a few of them laugh with a story she’d rehearsed from her home.
Well, a light chuckle at least.
But, despite how well the event seemed to be going, something didn’t seem right with her father. Emmaline had picked up on it before they’d even arrived, and it had only grown more apparent as the night wore on. He seemed distant—detached from what he was doing. He still fulfilled his obligation to introduce her, but his heart wasn’t in it. No matter how short the introduction, his mind would wander and Emmaline was more and more left to fend for herself.
She hung on his arm, trying her best to step forward in the conversations he initiated, but she too was beginning to wear out after meeting so many new faces. The conversation was becoming ritualistic and Emmaline found herself repeating the same few talking points.
“Father,” she said again, aware of the concerned looks he was getting from the others in the group.
Worthington snapped back into focus. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “What was that?”
“I was just saying your daughter is every bit as fair as you said,” gentleman Farley smiled. “A refreshing new breeze over the city. Don’t you agree, Edmond?”
Farley’s son, who’d been standing idly beside him turned with a dutiful glance and gave Emmaline a quick once-over. “Your dress is very pretty,” he said conclusively.
Emmaline smiled and curtsied her thanks though she got the impression Edmond was as practiced in his compliments as she was her responses. His focus wandered as freely as her father’s, she’d observed. In the short time they’d been introduced he’d spent it surveying the room and eying the other girls who flocked by.
Not that Emmaline intended to catch his attention. She was only just turning fourteen, and it was clear he was a few years her senior.
“You know, I’m thinking there must be some good western blood found in Sorrento,” Farley smiled.
“Of course there is,” another gentleman said. “Worthington is a native. Didn’t you know?”
“Is that so?” Farley asked. “I had no idea! Leave it to the colonies to hide away treasures from Hatteras. Though I’m sure the best will find their way here in time, as you have. It’s certainly the advantaged move now that Selaria has been put down for good.”
“That may be,” the second gentleman said, “but it’s difficult to persuade an entire people to improve themselves all at once. It uproots their sense of being.”
“Perhaps,” Farley conceded. “But you know, if
Worthington’s family is any indication of their roots I wonder if they might not already be more akin to Hatteras. I know it’s nearer Selaria geographically, but I wonder if it wasn’t natives of Hatteras who might have settled there first.”
Emmaline watched her father’s eyes glazed over again as the conversation got away from him. She wondered where his mind was taking him. He was staring off at nothing.
She feared it was her fault his heart wasn’t in it. Had she done something wrong? Was this still because of how she’d reacted to Harper? Or did it have something to do with the woman who’d come by? It was impossible to tell her father’s moods, and Emmaline agitated herself trying.
“I have to ask,” another gentleman interjected, “but are you well, Worthington?”
“Of course,” Worthington said, snapping back yet again at the mention of his name. “Peak of my health. Why?”
“No reason,” the man said, sipping from his glass and averting his eyes.
“Well, peak or not, an evening can be wasted with too many introductions,” Farley concluded. “I’m sure you’ve made your rounds already. Perhaps Emmaline would care for a dance? I’m sure my son would oblige. While we still have you that is. We’d be amiss if we missed this chance to prove we gentleman are not always the bores we appear to be. Time is a fleeting companion as they say. And we all know you could use one of those. Edmond?”
Edmond nodded to his father. “Shall we?” he asked Emmaline, offering his hand.
Emmaline glanced at her father, unsure what to do. He was supposed to help her know which families she should make an effort to befriend, but he gave her no indication he had an opinion on the matter.
Again, she wondered what had come over him.
Emmaline accepted Edmond’s hand, much to the obvious joy of Farley, and allowed him to lead her away. It was a challenge to maneuver between the crowd of people, and Emmaline had to pull at her dress to keep it from brushing up against those she passed. At the steps she looked back and watched Farley’s continued efforts to engage her father in conversation.
Daughters of Aether Page 6