“But,” Emmaline shifted on her feet. Did she dare say more?
“What?” Stoddard asked.
“So am I,” she pointed out. She could feel the warmth coming to her cheeks and she wrung her hands. “That’s why I’m here. After all that’s happened.”
The two stood in the quiet of the ticking clocks, and Emmaline worried that her own racing heart could be heard among them. But when she looked up at Stoddard, she could see plainly the look of joy he wore. Neither of them could contain their smiles.
“Would you like to take a walk?” he asked.
“My uncle is waiting for me in the carriage out front,” Emmaline explained.
Stoddard fetched his coat off of a chair. “Perhaps he’d be willing to wait a bit longer.”
I’ve come into a situation which requires a measure of delicacy to resolve. I’ve been informed that you’re the type of man willing to get his hands dirty in order to get things done. If I have your committal to complete discretion, then I can promise I will make it worth your time.
—Excerpt from Dempwolf’s Letter to His Man
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Meeting With Dempwolf
“OH?” DEMPWOLF FROWNED AS WORTHINGTON was shown into his office. “I wasn’t aware we had another meeting scheduled.”
“It couldn’t wait,” Worthington said. He stood in the room rigid and worn. He’d not been sleeping well, and he felt an urgent need to settle what was amiss. Every day that he didn’t hear from Dempwolf had only added to his anxiety until he could endure it no more.
“He said it was an urgent matter, my lord,” the butler explained.
“I see,” Dempwolf frowned. He rose from his seat and handed a few papers to his butler before dismissing him. “And what is it that I can do for you?” he asked after he’d secured the door.
“You know what this is about,” Worthington said.
“Of course I do,” Dempwolf said. “Please, help yourself to a drink.”
“I’m fine without one,” Worthington said.
“Suit yourself.” Dempwolf stepped back behind his desk and set about closing the ledgers he’d been working on. He didn’t seem to move with any urgency, sipping from his own glass as he shuffled papers back and forth before him.
Worthington couldn’t endure the wait. “Well?” he urged. “Have you got them?”
Dempwolf frowned into his drink, smacking his lips as he set it down again.
“No,” he said.
Worthington cursed. “What is taking so long? I thought you would have had them by now!”
“Don’t place your timetable on me,” Dempwolf warned. “It’s not wise to rush too deep into the lion’s den. These things take time. Preparation. Your girl has surrounded herself with quite the loyal circle. They’re going to make a simple catch and release rather difficult.”
“I don’t care how difficult it will be,” Worthington said. “Everything is complicated so long as those letters exist. They must be returned.”
“All in due time,” Dempwolf said. “Let’s not forget that you’re not the only one who wishes to keep his hands clean through all of this. As it happens, I did have a chance recently to meet your little… itch.” He gave Worthington a testing glance. “She’s not so singular a trophy as you talk her up to be. You could have done better.”
Worthington bit his tongue. He wanted to say something, but now was not the time. He was there with one purpose in mind and it was no use risking a diversion—nor an unnecessary point with Dempwolf.
“Personal taste aside,” Dempwolf continued. “I don’t think it will do for either you or I to entertain her demands. Nor to negotiate the letters return. Not in person. It’s only a matter of time until some undesirable becomes over-wise to what it is that’s actually going on. Fortunately, I know a man who might be able to handle the more delicate details of their retrieval. He’s proven himself before to possess a knack for this sort of thing.”
“Who is it?” Worthington asked.
“The less you know about him the better,” Dempwolf explained. “As you can imagine, a man in his position likes to keeps his virtues safe from the public eye.”
“You want me to trust a man I’ve never met with information that could overthrow my entire life?” Worthington asked.
“You’re welcome to try to recover them yourself,” Dempwolf suggested.
Worthington frowned. It was a risky venture, but then so was everything lately. Ever since Margarete’s demand his life as he’d known it was being strained. If this wasn’t addressed quickly, there was no telling how far it would unravel.
“If those letters fall into the wrong hands, then neither you nor I will have a prayer in maintaining our good names,” Worthington emphasized.
“For your sake, I would hope not,” Dempwolf chuckled with unwelcomed humor.
“I would think you’d take this more seriously, considering our ties,” Worthington said. “If you were in my position, then you’d be just as anxious.”
“If it was me in your position, I’d have known to keep my affairs from my women,” Dempwolf frowned. “She’s onto you, Terrin. You must respect your quarry enough to know she’ll do everything in her power to ensure her own safety. If these letters are as damning as you say then she must know the risk she takes upsetting a member of the meritocracy. And if she wasn’t aware before she certainly knows now. She’s kicked the hornet’s nest, and until she’s free of those letters, she’ll be on her guard.”
He poured himself another drink. “She’ll be eager to rid herself of them.”
“Then what’s to say she hasn’t already?” Worthington asked. “It’s possible she no longer even has the letters. What’s to say she hasn’t given them to someone for safekeeping until our hands are forced.”
Dempwolf’s eyes narrowed in thought. “No,” he said. “I don’t believe she’s let go of them. In fact, I’m fairly certain she won’t let them out of her sight.”
“How would you know?” Worthington asked.
“Call it intuition,” Dempwolf said. “Hunt enough beasts and you’re bound to pick up a few of their tricks. And just to ensure not everything has been left to chance, I had a new acquaintance of mine perform a search of Margarete’s room. A particularly willing creature. Unfortunately, she turned up nothing in her search, but she has seen the letters for herself. Margarete carries them on her person.”
“Then what do we do to get them back?” Worthington asked. He was growing even more desperate as the conversation wore on. He needed results, and Dempwolf had so far only complicated the matter.
“Obviously,” Dempwolf said. “We bring her in.”
“And how do you expect to convince Margarete to come to us when she knows full well you’re after the letters?”
“Simple,” Dempwolf smiled. “We give her what she wants.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
We Should Go
EMMALINE ENJOYED HER WALK WITH Stoddard as he took her for a turn around his corner of the world. It paled in comparison to the Spire, but something drew her in. The buildings were simpler, designed more for their function rather than their outward appeal, and the general mood reminded her of Sorrento.
Her uncle had been accommodating. When they’d asked to take a walk he’d accepted without hesitation, citing it as a good practice for a good mind. Riding behind them at a comfortable distance in the carriage, he continued his role as her escort while giving them distance to talk.
Over the course of the afternoon they wound their way from Rigimor’s toward her home on the Spire. On any other day Emmaline would have complained about the distance, but somehow today she didn’t notice. Her feet didn’t complain one bit as they kept step with Stoddard. On the contrary, she was more distressed by the knowledge that eventually their walk would have to come to an end.
Stoddard seemed to share her sentiments, and their path took a number of side streets and detours. As they walked, they kept up a constant string o
f conversation. They talked about Stoddard’s childhood and where he’d grown up, the changes in Hatteras since he was a boy, and about his apprenticeship and his aspirations once it was concluded. And they talked about things that had no importance whatsoever, apart from how they stretched their long walk.
Emmaline soaked up the moment.
“So how are you liking Hatteras so far?” Stoddard asked as they emerged from another detour.
“It’s alright,” she said.
“Just alright?”
“No,” Emmaline smiled. “I mean, it’s fine.”
“Fine?” Stoddard asked. “Oh dear. You’re talking about where I grew up, and it’s just fine?”
“I don’t mean to offend you,” Emmaline said.
Stoddard laughed. “No offense taken. I’m just surprised. Most people are clamoring to come over from the colonies. I’m curious what makes you so different.”
“I don’t know,” Emmaline shrugged, trying to put her finger on it herself. “Everything is so big here. I feel like I’m constantly trying to find my way through a maze. And I suppose I had an idea of what it would be like when I got here, but it hasn’t turned out to be anything like what I thought.”
“What did you expect?” Stoddard asked.
“Well,” Emmaline said, struggling to remember. “The way people talked about it it sounded like it would be a paradise, but it feels like nothing rests here.”
“We’re industrious,” Stoddard defended. “Is that such a bad thing?”
“No,” Emmaline said. “But it’s tiring. My father says that I’ll get to used to it, but I’m just not sure. I loved my home in Sorrento. I loved the pace. Have you ever been there?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t,” Stoddard confessed. “What does Sorrento have that Hatteras doesn’t?”
“Space to move,” Emmaline said, “or time to myself. Everything here seems so urgent. I feel like ever since I’ve come to Hatteras it’s been nearly impossible to relax or do anything for myself. I’m constantly being watched and critiqued, and even when I’m not I’m always thinking about the next time I will be. I can’t escape it.”
“A consequence of being recognized by the meritocracy, I suppose,” Stoddard said.
“I used to be free to play and wander wherever I pleased. We lived beside the coast in Sorrento too, and there were these shoals where I could… I’m sorry. I’m probably boring you.”
“Not at all,” Stoddard said. “I’ve never traveled outside of Hatteras myself. It’s interesting to hear you talk about your home. I’ve always wondered what the colonies were like.”
“You mean you’ve never left the city ever?”
“Never,” Stoddard said. “I never had the need. Or the opportunity, I suppose. And now that I’m apprenticed there’s not much time for leisure. My own parents weren’t so well off. When I was old enough to take an apprenticeship, I was practically disowned so that my parents could manage.”
Emmaline’s expression sank as she looked at him. She could see the memory pained him, but he kept walking.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s alright,” he shrugged. “I’ve thought about it quite a bit and I don’t believe it was personal. Just economics. One less mouth to feed.”
“You had siblings?”
“I think so.”
Emmaline gave him a look. How could he not remember if he had siblings? She realized at that moment that she really didn’t know much about Stoddard or his history. Clearly he’d been through something and it made her all the more curious to know how he’d come to be the young man she knew then.
“Anyway, I’ve taken care of myself ever since,” Stoddard continued.
“And you’re okay with that?”
“Whether I am or not, does it make a difference?” Stoddard asked. “What they did is done. There’s nothing more I could do to change it than they were able to do to avoid it. There’s no point wasting more time dwelling on the past. There’s hardly enough time as it is.”
“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Emmaline said, sensing the waver in his voice as he spoke.
“Not at all,” Stoddard said, trying to make light of it. “You didn’t know. And I suppose it’s not entirely a bad experience. After all, I wouldn’t be who I am today if they hadn’t sent me away. It’s helped me learn some of the most important lessons of my life. And I can honestly say that everything I am I’ve built for myself.”
Even as he said it Emmaline could discern his focused effort to appear beyond the incident, but she didn’t believe it. She couldn’t. How could someone move past something so traumatic as his family abandoning him? Emmaline puzzled over the thought a while, but she had so little to compare it to in her own experience. Her troubles and inconveniences seemed suddenly too unsubstantial in comparison.
“Anyway, I’ve known nothing else but Hatteras,” Stoddard continued, “which I suppose is a luxury of its own.”
“Why do you say that?” Emmaline asked.
“Because you can’t long for something you’ve never known. Otherwise you’re haunted by its memory forever. It never leaves you.”
“I think that’s why I can’t come to love this city,” Emmaline said. “Father says it’s our home now, but I don’t feel it. I can’t stop comparing it to Sorrento. If I had the choice, I’d go back in a heartbeat.”
“Well, then,” Stoddard said. “It will be my challenge to give you a reason to stay then.”
Just then they heard the carriage pick up its pace behind them until it came abreast the two. Her uncle opened the door and beckoned to them.
“How are your feet holding up?” he asked.
“They’re fine,” Emmaline said.
“Good. Your father would have a word with me if he found out I let you walk all this way.”
“It’s actually been quite nice.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Uncle Lewis said. “But might I suggest you return to the carriage now? We’re almost to the estate.”
Emmaline frowned deeply as she looked ahead. Sure enough, they were only a street away. They’d walked too fast. She was enjoying her time with Stoddard and she didn’t want it to end. The way he spoke felt honest and open, and it was liberating to be able to share her thoughts with someone who wasn’t so quick to critique them.
Stoddard, too, appeared disappointed by the prospect of her leaving.
“Perhaps you could go in alone?” she asked.
“And what about you?” her uncle asked, looking skeptical.
“I don’t feel like going home just yet.”
“I can’t very well leave you wandering the streets on your own,” he said. “Much less unsupervised. No offense,” he added to Stoddard. “You seem like a perfectly decent fellow.”
Stoddard waved the comment off.
“Then we won’t wander,” Emmaline said. “We’ll just take a turn around the yard.”
“Are you sure that’s such a good idea?” her uncle asked.
Stoddard, too, looked less enthusiastic about the prospect of being discovered on Worthington’s property.
“It will be alright,” Emmaline insisted. “We’ll just sit by the old oak. We’ll be fine there. And if there’s any trouble I could be heard from the house.”
Her uncle smiled at her. “Very well then. Just follow the carriage through the gate. But what am I supposed to say to your father if he asks where you are?”
“Tell him the truth,” she said.
“But, perhaps not the whole truth this time,” Uncle Lewis mused. He closed the door, and the carriage lurched forward again. Emmaline and Stoddard followed it closely, passing through the gate as he’d instructed and then slipping away along the hedge toward the oak.
Stoddard eyed the house with apprehension. “Are you sure about this?” he asked.
“Of course!” Emmaline insisted. “Come on, no one will be able to see us from the tree.”
Emmaline grasped his hand, pulling him as they circle
d the yard counterclockwise toward the far corner of the estate. When they were safely concealed behind the oak, they caught their breath.
“What is this place?” Stoddard asked, surprised by the little grove.
“My sanctuary,” Emmaline explained. “I found it while I was exploring the estate. This is where I come when I need to breathe.”
“No one else knows about it?”
“My uncle does,” Emmaline said, taking a seat on the bench under the oak. “Actually, he was the one who found it first. But he doesn’t seem to mind sharing it with me.”
“Your uncle is a good man,” Stoddard said. “He certainly thinks very fondly of you.”
“He’s my only uncle,” she said. “And I’m his only niece. Of course he thinks fondly of me.”
Stoddard placed a hand on the trunk of the oak, feeling the rough grooves of the bark. “Your father is quite protective of you,” he observed.
“All fathers are protective of their daughters.”
“He doesn’t like me very much, does he?”
“I don’t know if it’s that,” Emmaline tried to explain, thinking about what her uncle had said earlier. “We weren’t well off in Sorrento. My father has had to work hard to earn everything we have. I think he’s just trying to look after us.”
“I suppose if I had created something so beautiful I’d want to safeguard it too,” Stoddard said.
He didn’t look at her when he said it though Emmaline felt the directness of the comment. It brought a rich color to her cheeks.
“But instead, here I am still tinkering in my master’s shop as day after day ticks by unaccounted for.” Stoddard tapped the tree lightly with a frustrated fist.
“That’s not true,” Emmaline said.
“It is though. I’m apprenticed to a clockmaker,” Stoddard scoffed. “I should have finished my apprenticeship years ago, yet for some reason I’m still stuck where I am. If I’m ever going to distinguish myself from the others and prove myself to the meritocracy, I can’t keep doing what I’ve always done. No one is going to notice a simple tinkerer in his workshop, no matter how talented he is.”
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