“No?”
Margaret Scarborough stood a few feet away beaming at them. He looked at his mother and waited. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and she looked a bit lost in her memories. “Those rubies have been in the Scarborough family for over two hundred years. They have been passed from countess to countess and it is my great pleasure to see you wearing them, my dear Emma.”
Emma’s eyes blurred with tears. Margaret wrapped her in a motherly hug and patted her back. When she pulled away, the countess’s eyes were also shining with moisture.
“Shall we go in?” John asked.
Emma nodded and then looked at her little brother. He had become distracted by the ornate church doors. “Oliver, there are no other surprises, are there?”
“No. Only the church.”
The footmen had already opened the doors, Oliver slipped inside before she could ask him what he was talking about.
“Don’t look so worried.” John’s delight was contagious. He offered his arm and she took it gladly.
As soon as she entered the chapel the next surprise became completely evident. Every surface had been covered with pale green fabric and dark red and white flowers. She had no idea how they had managed it in such a short time. They must have bought out every hothouse in London and the surrounding counties. The effect overwhelmed her and fresh tears filled her eyes.
Her fiancé turned to her and gently wiped away her tears. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”
“It’s just that I’m so happy.”
Parishioners filled the pews and smiled as they watched the couple. She’d never seen so many people crammed into the church. She thought they might all be there not just for the Christmas Mass, but also to see if the Earl of Compton would actually go through with the marriage.
Margaret took Oliver’s hand and moved down the aisle to take their seats.
John wore a broad grin. “I’m glad to hear it. Now, take a breath and let’s get through the next few hours, shall we?”
“Oh yes.” Suddenly the idea of a lifetime with John filled her with delight. She had not really allowed herself to contemplate the realities of a future as the Countess of Compton. Now her future stared her in the face. She liked what she saw. He cared and he would always take care of her and Oliver.
“Meet you at the other end?” He asked.
She nodded, and he walked quickly to take his place near the altar.
Every face, as she made her way slowly toward the altar, turned to her. She tried to smile back and acknowledge those she recognized. Other than the Treechery Ball, it had been two years since she had set foot out in society. Some of the faces were familiar but she could not put a name to them. She reached the front and saw that her Aunt Fiona was seated next to the countess. John must have sent for her from Plymouth for the wedding. She looked from the gray-haired woman who had always been so kind to her to John, and fresh tears stung her eyes.
John stepped down from the platform and helped her onto the dais where they stood before the pastor.
Emma would never be able to tell her grandchildren what was said during the ceremony. The entire experience careened over her as if it was an avalanche. Before she knew it, she was agreeing to love, honor and obey. Then it was over and thousands of rose petals fell from the rafters. They sat through Christmas Mass before she and her new husband made their way out of the church.
They returned to Scarborough House for a wedding breakfast and to celebrate the Christmas holiday. Still, Emma could not catch her breath, though it seemed as if the rest of the household exhaled for the first time since John had put them all on alert. The footmen no longer guarded every door and things seemed much more normal.
Emma watched the festivities from the doorway. She had made a point to speak to every person who’d joined them for breakfast, but now she longed for some peace.
“May I have a word with you, Emma?”
Emma turned to find her aunt only a few feet behind her. “Aunt Fiona, where have you been?”
Her aunt’s petite stature and warm smile were something familiar and Emma immediately embraced her. “I looked for you, but thought perhaps you had left already for Plymouth.”
“No. I will spend the night here and return tomorrow. I cannot leave my poor friends for too long.”
Emma smiled and wrapped her aunt’s arm through hers before leading her into the library. The friends, that Aunt Fiona referred to, were a dozen or more cats that she cared for. “I’m sure they could do without you for a few days. And I would love for you to stay a while.”
Fiona’s eyes widened. “Oh no, my dear. I must get home to the little ones. Jelly has just had her babies and Jam is a tyrant around the little ones. I must get home.”
“Well, I’m very glad you came for the wedding, Aunt Fiona. I can’t tell you how refreshing it was to see you sitting there this morning,” Emma said.
Her aunt touched her cheek. “I couldn’t miss my girl’s wedding. I’ll admit that when I got your note, I was surprised that you were marrying. You hadn’t mentioned the earl in any of your previous letters. I thought perhaps Drake had forced you into an unwanted marriage and had planned to swoop in to rescue you. Then a carriage showed up to bring me to town with a note from the earl himself. I was shocked, to say the least. The note was so touching that I began to feel better about the situation.”
“I did not see Drake. Can I assume that he was not a party to this marriage?”
“He is furious that I have married and taken Oliver out of his reach. We have been on pins and needles here thinking he would somehow stop the wedding.”
“Then you are happy with his lordship?”
Emma’s heart raced just at the thought of John. “I have never been happier, Aunt Fiona. I…I love him.” The realization had her heart beating even faster. When it had happened, she didn’t know, but it was true. She was in love with John.
“Really? How wonderful for you, my dear.” Her aunt pulled her into a warm hug. “I shall return to Plymouth feeling much relieved. I was very worried about you and Oliver.”
“We are going to be fine,” Emma assured the older woman.
They returned to the dining room. Champagne was served to all the guests. Oliver continued to eat until his nanny scolded him for gorging himself and took him to the nursery for a nap.
* * * * *
Drake Trent did not appear at any time during the day. In fact, the entire household basked in a warm sense of relief and accomplishment. They had successfully warded off any unpleasant behavior from Trent and he had made several attempts during the course of the past few days to see Emma. John didn’t tell her about any of that until the guests had all left and they were alone.
Emma’s mind still reeled with everything that had happened.
Late that night, she woke to find her new husband deeply asleep in the bed they’d shared for the first time.
She felt the corners of her mouth turn up. She was Mrs. John Scarborough, the Countess of Compton. It was all rather unbelievable. The entire house felt as if it had been tense and waiting for the moment when all the insanity would subside.
Try as she might to fall back to sleep, it was not possible. She moved from the bed and swathed herself in a thick wool wrapper that was hanging on the back of the chair and pulled on her boots.
Some fresh air always made her feel better. On the night of her wedding, thoughts of her father flooded her. She wished he could have been there. The two of them could have met in the garden and talk over the day’s events. Of course, even if he had lived, he would have been walking in his own gardens across the street. Still, it was her wedding and she missed having her father there.
In the cold night, her tears burned her eyes as she stepped out of the door onto the veranda.
A light snow had fallen, but that didn’t stop Emma from going out into the garden. The crisp air brought her new life and delighted her as she walked the path while staying close to the light from the house. No
footmen guarded the gate or the doors to the house as they had two nights earlier. She closed her eyes and allowed the chilled breeze to whoosh past her. Her eyes teared as much from the cold as they had from thoughts of her father.
She hadn’t gone far when she heard footsteps behind her. She smiled at the idea that, once again, John had found her.
“You should not be out at such an hour.” It was not John’s voice.
She spun around and her heart pounded at the sound of the familiar voice coming from the shadows.
Drake Trent was hiding somewhere just out of sight. All the peace she had finally begun to feel rushed away with the knowledge that she was in very real danger. Her heart pounded, and in spite of the cold air, a film of perspiration dotted her brow. “What are you doing here, Uncle Drake?”
He stepped into the light. “You didn’t think I would let you get away with this, did you? After all, you are no countess. You are nothing but a trollop.”
His voice was bitter and filled with contempt. Her legs began to tremble and she tried to steady them. He came closer, and she took a step back from his looming form. Her eyes darted from side to side, looking for an escape. She could scream, but she might not be heard. Everyone in the house was sensibly asleep.
“I am the Countess of Compton.” She said it in her haughtiest voice. “You have no business here.” Even to her ears, the effect fell flat.
He advanced until he was so close she could feel his stale breath on her face. “You are a bothersome piece of dung who my brother never loved and I shall dispose of very quickly.”
“My father loved both of his children.”
He laughed and the sound made her cringe and the hair on her neck stand up. Her stomach roiled in protest.
“August often lamented to me about his foolish mistake at having you and that bastard brother of yours. He would have changed his will if he’d lived long enough.”
“You lie.” He blocked her path toward the house. She took off running in the other direction and dashed into the maze. She didn’t know if she could find her way out, but it was her only option. Her boots clomped loudly on the hard ground. It started snowing again, but it was not enough to soften her footfalls. Her heart raced and she gasped for air as she made turn after turn in the high-hedged maze.
“You can run, Emma, but eventually I will find you.” His voice carried through the shrubs. He wasn’t far behind.
She turned another corner and found the fountain where she and John had kissed. She ran passed. The shrubs parted in three places. She ran down the one farthest to the left and hoped it would bring her out near the house. If she could get inside and scream then someone would help her.
The path ended at a wall of evergreen. Emma turned around to find another way, but Drake had already found her.
“I told you running was foolish.”
She backed up, but the shrub stopped her.
He closed in and lifted his hands toward her throat.
The man who had terrorized her for the past year and threatened Oliver’s life, was going to kill her in John’s garden. No one would find her. Her heart sank. Oliver would not be saved. “You’ll be hanged for this.”
He was red-faced from the run and covered in sweat. He breathed in gasps and the most terrible sneer marred his already repugnant face. “No one will ever know. You see, I am going to strangle the life out of that scrawny neck of yours and then I’m going to dump your body in the river. You shall never be heard of again and all will assume you ran away from a forced marriage.”
“John will know,” she protested. “He will hunt you down.”
Drake shrugged. “He will have no proof, and since he is an upstanding member of society, he will do nothing about it. After all what can he do? He can’t very well kill me.”
“What does it benefit you to get rid of me? I have no money to bequeath to you.”
He raised his right hand to strike. She tried to back away from the blow, but the large shrub jabbed her in the back. His hand slammed down across her cheek and pain exploded across her face and eye. Then both his meaty hands closed over her throat.
Drake continued to speak as if they were having a social call. “Your marriage is not convenient for my future. Pity that. Once you are gone, I will petition for custody of my dear nephew, Oliver, and I shall have all that I desire.”
He laughed then and his hands tightened around Emma’s neck. She struggled and kicked, landing a blow against his knee. He cursed and squeezed harder. Her nails bit into the flesh of his face. She tried to cry out, but her breath was nearly gone.
Emma’s world darkened. She reached back and tore a stick from the brittle bush behind her. With one last effort, she stabbed forward, aiming for the general area of his eyes.
She could no longer see his face, but he cried out. For an instant, his grip loosened and she collapsed to the ground. She climbed to her feet and used the little energy that remained to stagger toward the fountain. A moment later, she was grabbed from behind and those meaty hands gripped her neck again. She kicked her legs, hitting his soft flesh. There was a crash, but everything was cloudy and gray.
Darkness surrounded her and she thought she heard voices, then nothing.
Chapter Six
John woke from his bed to find his new wife missing. He smiled, pulled on his trousers, shirt and shoes and got up to go and find her in the garden. He was halfway down the steps when he heard shouting from the back of the house. He ran the rest of the way. His heart beat as if he’d been running for days.
Footmen appeared in the hall and ran toward the garden.
John followed.
Angry male voices emanated from the maze. John ran through the coating of snow. Emma’s wool wrapper lay in the snow at the first turn. He didn’t notice the cold as he made his way to the fountain at the center.
If he’d found a dozen soldiers ready to besiege the house, it would have been less of a shock than the scene that he beheld. The Bow Street runner he’d hired grappled with a bloody-faced Drake Trent, while Emma lay immobile in the snow.
John ignored the fight and ran to his wife. Her skin was pale as linen and her eyes, though open, did not focus. One side of her face had been bruised badly and her eye was swollen shut. Her throat, which he had kissed a dozen times, was purple and red.
��Emma, stay with me,” John cried.
A blur of white descended to his right. “John, I shall send for the doctor,” his mother said.
“My lord, perhaps you can carry Emma inside,” Emma’s aunt said.
John didn’t know what to think. He did as Fiona said and lifted Emma’s lifeless body into his arms. She was freezing and he pulled her close.
When he turned, four footmen and the Bow Street runner were all trying to subdue Trent. In an instant, they surged forward and Trent lost his footing. He fell backward against the stone fountain. There was a terrible thud and Drake Trent lay perfectly still with five men atop him.
John walked past and out through the maze.
Fiona followed closely at his right. She directed him up the stairs of the house. “Put her in bed. We need to get her warm. It’s all we can do until the doctor arrives.”
John did as he was told. He watched as her aunt and the maid pulled the wet nightclothes from the limp body of his wife. Emma’s eyes were closed. She barely resembled Emma with the bruises, blue lips and pale skin. She looked as if death was only moments away. John’s chest squeezed painfully.
They ignored him standing to one side as they pulled another gown on her body. Emma moaned when her maid touched her neck to tie the top. The maid cringed and left the strings untied.
Once she was wrapped in blankets and propped up on pillows, Fiona ordered warm towels and the maid ran from the room.
“Miss Poole,” John said from the shadows.
Fiona turned. Her eyes were wide with surprise. “My lord, you should not be in here. You should go and wait in the library. I will tell you if there is
a change.”
“I would like a few minutes with my wife, please.”
She looked nervously from him to her niece. “Of course, my lord. The water will take some time to warm. Stay with her until the doctor arrives.”
Once he was alone with Emma, he climbed into the bed and wrapped her body in his arms. He kissed her cheek. Freezing.
He tugged at the blankets that had been tucked around her and slipped under, pressing his warm body flush against hers. The chill of her skin seeped through her bedclothes and his blouse and trousers. He shivered, but pulled her close to him.
She moaned, but he could make out no words.
“Emma, My love, you are forbidden to leave me. I need you, don’t you see? If you could make a bit of an effort…” The words stuck in his throat and moisture built in his eyes, spilled out and ran freely down his cheek. He hadn’t wept since he was a boy. Someone might enter the room at any moment and find him under the covers with his sick wife. They would think him mad or worse. He didn’t care. He wanted to give her his warmth, his life if need be. “You are the best thing for this all-too-serious politician. Oliver needs you too. I don’t know what I must say to make you fight, Emma. I love you.”
Her skin warmed a bit and her lips pinked up slightly. The bruise on her face appeared worse, but she was not nearly as cold to the touch.
He heard the commotion downstairs when the doctor arrived and slipped from the bed. He tucked the blankets around her, sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. Her fingers were still freezing, but her nails were pink rather than the deathly blue they’d been when he found her.
While the drama of the doctor’s arrival continued all the way up the stairs, getting louder as it went, John prayed.
The doctor, Fiona and a maid entered. John stood, kissed Emma’s forehead and turned to the tall, dour gentleman. “My wife is very precious to all of us, doctor.”
“Of course, my lord.” He bowed slightly. “I will do all that is possible.”
John gave the man a nod and left the room.
Christmas Bliss Page 6