Year of Folly

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

Morgan’s eyes in the confined light of the carriage seemed very blue as he studied her.

  As if she had never noticed before, Emma grew aware of his mouth and how full and expressive it was, when he was not holding it in a hard, straight line.

  Her heart stumbled and hurried on. It had nothing to do with the illness she had felt from Foggarty’s enmity, which was already passing. Emma sat up, aware that she was sprawling in a less than ladylike manner.

  “If you are not up to a second bank visit, then you’d best give me Lilly’s cheque,” Morgan said, his tone polite and calm. “I will cash it through the Kirkaldy account as Will suggested.”

  Emma opened her reticule slowly. “I suppose the Bank of Scotland has the same policy?”

  “They likely do,” Morgan said. “Banks are the most conservative institutions in the world. You chose a teak wall for your first target, instead of a feather pillow. That is why you feel ill.”

  She fished out the cheque and held it out to him. “Knowing that makes me feel a bit better,” she confessed. “But not completely. It really is an inconvenience, to have to bother you and Will over matters I really should see to myself.”

  Morgan took the cheque from her. His fingers brushed against hers and she shivered.

  He met her gaze. “It’s no bother,” he said softly. “Come to me, in the future. I can help. Even if it is to cash a cheque for you.”

  His fingers were still entangled with hers, the cheque between them.

  Emma was suddenly breathless. Her stays were too tight. The carriage was far too small….

  Morgan slid the cheque from beneath her fingers and pushed it into an inner pocket. The moment passed.

  Yet the effect lingered.

  For the rest of the journey back home, Emma did not dare look at him.

  Chapter Nine

  Inverness Railway Station, Inverness, Scotland. September 1872.

  The entire household at Kirkaldy boarded the train for the journey to Innesford and the annual family gather, taking over most of one carriage. Not only Will and Bridget, Morgan and Emma were attending, but for the first time, Bridget was taking Seth and Elise with them. It required their nurse, Nightbrook, to travel with them. Bridget’s maid also traveled with them and so did Cookson, to see to Emma’s needs.

  At the last minute, Cian sent a wire, requesting Will bring three footmen with him, to help with the running of Innesford during the gather. Bakersfield stirred up three of his most reliable staff to join the party.

  The footmen and maids traveled in the second-class car, which the stationmaster had positioned behind the carriage the family occupied. It allowed the staff to move to and from the family carriage.

  It made the journey to London much smoother and trouble free than Emma’s sleepless journey to Kirkaldy.

  At Euston Station the next morning, shortly after the Inverness train arrived, the porters stowed the many trunks and valises upon the Portsmouth train, while the family settled in the lounge compartment to eat breakfast as the train pulled out of London.

  The train made a special stop in Truro just for the family to alight. Travers, the Innesford butler, was already there with a charabanc and a cart to haul the trunks the few miles to Innesford.

  When they arrived, everyone already at Innesford stepped out upon the drive to greet them. For twenty minutes, noisy greetings and hugs and handshakes, and high, excited screams of delight from the children sounded. The children raced off with their cousins to inspect the maze, the stables, the woods beyond the stables, and the cliffs—with sharp admonitions from mothers, nurses and governesses not to wander too close to the edge.

  The parents all moved thankfully into the enormous drawing room at the back of the house. There, multiple tall French windows overlooked the sea and the back garden with its croquet lawn and cricket pitch, and the luncheon pavilion being raised in the corner close to the maze.

  Emma found herself on the edge of the swirling clumps of people moving about the drawing room with their cups and saucers. Everyone was determined to speak to everyone else at least once in the first three minutes. The first day of a gather was always a noisy affair.

  This year, there was a new couple to celebrate, for Blanche stood beside Neil, looking self-conscious, and glowing with pride and happiness as she displayed her engagement ring.

  Emma watched everyone with unusual wariness. It was not until she stepped off the charabanc that she realized Lilly would be at this year’s gather. Lilly and Jasper stood upon the broad front step of the house, waving as the charabanc pulled up. Will and Morgan were the first to shake Jasper’s hand.

  Jasper was respected by the men of the family. Emma had heard he had taken control of the business in Algeria. Jasper’s actions won the day for the great family and saved Iefan and Mairin. The men were reluctant to provide more detail than that, so Emma had never learned for sure what happened that made them admire Jasper so much.

  With a jolt, she remembered that Jasper was, in fact, her stepfather.

  “You watch them too closely,” Morgan murmured by her ear, making her jump.

  Emma grasped her teacup and settled it back upon the saucer. “No one watches me, so it doesn’t matter how closely I observe them.” Her heart pattered unhappily.

  Since the day she had tried to open a bank account, Morgan made her heart work far too hard whenever he drew close to her. She didn’t enjoy the unsettled feeling he stirred and had spent the intervening weeks ignoring him.

  She could not avoid him altogether, though, for she had chosen principals instead of convenience and found herself having to come to him for the smallest necessities.

  He had written a cheque for Miss Becker without a murmur of complaint. He had deposited Emma’s cheques without comment. He made no further observations about her swiftly growing political aspirations, despite occasionally tipping the book she happened to be reading up high enough to read the title for himself.

  In fact, she might have suspected he was holding himself aloof as much as she was, for she rarely saw him about the estate. During the day he kept to his office just off the ballroom at the back of the house. When they were in the same room together, in the mornings and evenings, he was polite and proper as he had always been.

  Only, Morgan behaving as always now irritated her. She wasn’t sure why for she would not let herself examine the inconsistency, except in a superficial way. Perhaps he disapproved of her politics, after all?

  Although she had no intention of giving up her new-found cause, even if he did disapprove. Her experience at the bank merely cemented her determination.

  Now he moved up beside her, startling her because her attention had been completely focused upon Lilly and Jasper.

  “Shouldn’t you be over by the sideboard with the men?” she chided him, as her heart fluttered and beat far too hard.

  “With the brandy? I don’t think so,” Morgan murmured. “Although I could fetch you a glass, if you’d like?”

  Emma’s eyes widened. She scanned his face to see if he was teasing her. She could see not a glimmer of amusement. “It is a little early for me,” she prevaricated.

  “I’ll ask Travers to tap the Scotch barrel, instead,” Morgan replied.

  Emma gave a laugh. “Oh, you are teasing.” Relief trickled through her.

  “That’s better,” Morgan said softly. “You were the only person in the room not smiling.” He moved away, over to where Uncle Rhys and Aunt Annalies sat together, to kiss his mother on the cheek and shake Rhys’ hand.

  Sometime later, Travers appeared by Emma’s side, with a single heavy crystal glass on his tray, half-filled with golden liquid. “Master Morgan suggested you might like a small libation, Miss Emma.” He handed her the glass, and his eye fluttered in a near-wink, as he drifted away.

  Annoyed, Emma searched the big room, looking for Morgan. He was talking to Jack and Jenny, now, while their eldest son, Jackson, tried to climb up Morgan as if he was a tree, until Morgan picked him u
p and put him over his shoulder.

  Morgan’s gaze met Emma’s, over the top of the wriggling child. He didn’t smile, yet she knew he had spotted the glass in her hand. Deliberately, she raised it toward him, then drank nearly half of it.

  It was Kirkaldy Scotch. The taste was distinctive. Had Morgan arranged for it to travel down with them?

  Fortified by the warm glow of the whisky, she merged into the room proper, to speak to everyone she had not yet greeted. Even though Morgan did not once look at her—not that she noticed, at least—it still felt to Emma as though he watched her, which was a ridiculous notion.

  Yet when she came face to face with Lilly and Jasper, the sensation that Morgan was monitoring, ready to step to her side if she needed him to be there, was stronger than ever.

  It let Emma smile at the couple. “Hello, Lilly. Jasper.”

  Lilly drew in a breath which shook. “Hello, Emma. How are you faring at Kirkaldy?”

  Emma drew in her own unsteady breath. With a jolt, she remembered that Lilly knew everything. Emma did not have to guard her tongue lest a forbidden truth emerge. Abruptly, she found herself describing the last two months and everything that had happened.

  When did they move to the little group of chairs by the window? Emma vaguely remembered Jasper shepherding her as she spoke and Lilly nodded. A hand on her shoulder encouraged Emma to sit. She felt a cushion beneath her. The whisky glass was returned to her hand, the Scotch renewed.

  And still her narrative continued. So much had occurred in just two months, and it all poured out, while Lilly listened with complete and undivided attention. She didn’t interrupt with a stern opinion about young ladies with airs above their station, or how inappropriate political interests were for a woman, which Emma suspected Mama Elisa would say, if she was in Lilly’s place.

  When Emma finally ran out of news, both Lilly and Jasper shook their heads.

  “You disapprove…” Emma said. Disappointment made her sag.

  “No! No, you misunderstand,” Lilly said quickly. “We just…well…forgive me, Emma, but you were so angry when you left for Kirkaldy. I thought that…” Lilly paused.

  “You seem to have put your anger to a noble use,” Jasper added. “Lilly is surprised, but I am not.” He glanced around the room and lowered his voice. “I know the strength and quality of my wife’s mind and I see it in you, too.”

  Lilly pressed her hand upon Jasper’s. “He means I am stubborn,” she interpreted.

  “True, but that was not my meaning,” Jasper said lightly.

  She had a strong mind? Emma decided she liked that idea very much. A strong mind seemed like a compliment, coming from Jasper. “I wish my mind was strong enough to make Foggarty open an account for me,” she said wistfully.

  “I suspect little short of a regal proclamation to the directors of the bank would achieve that,” Jasper assured her. “Morgan was right. There are smaller and more effective ways to change people’s minds, Emma.”

  “Your friend, Miss Becker, and her magazine for example,” Lilly said. “Simply talking to people, explaining these things, makes an enormous difference. Even I was not aware of some of the disadvantages for women until you told me just now, and I have been listening to Annalies for years.” Her smile was wry.

  “It is like water wearing away at stone,” Jasper said.

  “A bite at a time,” Emma murmured.

  “A drop at a time,” he corrected.

  “Yes,” Emma said thoughtfully. Then she stirred. “Jasper, you told Will to keep strangers away from me. May I know why?”

  Jasper and Lilly glanced at each other.

  “I suppose an explanation is in order,” Lilly said. “Although, if you would not mind terribly, may I postpone the subject? I promise I will explain before you return to Kirkaldy, Emma, but I simply cannot…”

  Jasper picked up her hand.

  “Not today,” Lilly whispered.

  Emma’s heart beat heavily with alarm. She could not begin to guess what Lilly’s explanation would be, yet Lilly’s deep reluctance made her uneasy. “The promise for now is enough,” she told Lilly

  “Will has been watching out for you, then?” Jasper asked.

  “I was confined to the estate unless he or Morgan was with me, and even then, only for the most necessary expeditions into Inverness,” Emma said.

  “Oh dear. It has been trying for you,” Lilly said.

  Jasper shook his head. “Better to be inconvenienced, than waylaid. It is possible for the restrictions to be eased a little. It has been three weeks since…” He glanced across the room. “I will speak to Will about it,” he added and got to his feet and moved away.

  It left Emma alone with Lilly.

  Lilly’s gaze shifted away from her, down to her hands where they rested in her lap, on top of blue and pink flecked tweed.

  “Is that Kirkaldy tweed?” Emma asked.

  Lilly bushed at her skirt. “I suppose it is a touch too gay for a traveling suit, but I adore the colors. One gets so tired of browns and sober blues, and the purple which is so in fashion now simply does not suit me.” Her hand came to her light brown hair and touched it self-consciously.

  “If you could select any color at all, what would you choose?” Emma asked, thinking of the large dyeing vats in Bridget’s mills.

  Lilly looked surprised. Then thoughtful. “Out of all the colors in the world? That is rather a lot to choose from. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “Do you have a favorite color?”

  “Green,” Lilly replied quickly, making Emma jump. “But not the green of grass. The green of…of…”

  “The ocean, close to sunset,” Emma said, looking down at the drapes of her dress, which were close to that shade.

  “Yes, exactly. Or the green in peacock feathers.” Lilly gave a small laugh. “I am too old to wear such a frivolous color now.”

  “You are not that old,” Emma said. Unbidden, she heard Lilly’s voice, the day she had revealed Emma’s true parentage.

  I was fourteen when I gave birth to you.

  Emma drank the rest of her Scotch.

  EMMA FOUND HERSELF IN A wildly competitive series of croquette games, the next day. She had always known that Bridget and Mairin were good players. No one was as skilled as Sharla, although Bridget and Mairin were her closest rivals. Emma could remember few games during previous gathers when she had beaten either of them.

  Now, though, with the knowledge that both ladies were her aunts and she shared their blood, a keen sense of determination to beat both of them was born. She was a good player, but had never applied her skills with energy, before. Croquette had been an excuse to gossip and giggle with Blanche and Catrin and Lisa Grace.

  Lisa Grace didn’t seem interested in gossip, this year. She sat apart from everyone with her sketchbook, a furrow between her brows. Emma recognized the absent glare. She was thinking through a problem in her unique way.

  Catrin was not here this year. Blanche lingered beside Neil, both of them completely absorbed with each other.

  Emma set herself the task of beating Mairin and Bridget at least once by the end of the day, no matter how many games it took.

  After three games with each of them, Emma realized that it might well take the rest of the afternoon to achieve her goal. “Another round?” she asked Mairin, as Bridget drained a glass of ice tea, her mallet resting against her hip.

  “Let Sharla and Jenny play their game, first,” Bridget said. “Then you may have the pleasure of being defeated once more.”

  Emma laughed. “We shall see.”

  “Another visitor?” Mairin murmured, as Travers strode past them, heading for the house, with Neil following him. “Who could it be, this time?”

  That morning, the visitor had been a politician from London, calling upon both Neil and Blanche. Neil had announced during luncheon in the pavilion that he would be working with Mr. Cardwell on military reforms. Emma wasn’t entirely certain what reforms he me
ant but decided she would find out about them. If the tradition-bound military could be changed with an act of parliament, then there might be lessons in there for women’s suffrage.

  Now Neil was tromping back inside once more to greet the latest visitor.

  “It is as if the whole world knows the family will be here each year,” Sharla said, as she came over to the three of them and plucked the mallet from Bridget’s side.

  “They likely do. How many years have we been coming here?” Mairin said.

  “Lilly would know. Lilly!” Sharla waved her over.

  Lilly eased herself out of the lawn chair beside Jasper’s and came over to them.

  “Do you know when the first gather was held?” Sharla asked her. “Do you remember it?”

  Lilly frowned. “Goodness, that was a while ago…” She considered. “I do remember the first one, but I was very small. Raymond!” She waved her hand.

  Raymond was just emerging from the lunch pavilion. He lifted his chin in acknowledgement, pulled the tent flap aside to speak to someone inside, then moved over the crochet lawn to where they stood.

  “The first gather—do you remember the year, cousin?” Lilly asked.

  Raymond scratched at his temple with one long finger. “I would have been…” He frowned. “Eighteen, I think, which would make it…1843.”

  “Twenty-nine years,” Sharla murmured. “Whoever thought this family could be so traditional?”

  Dane came over to where they stood in the center of the croquet court. “This is an interesting game. What are the rules?”

  “We are trying to recall the first gather,” Raymond said. “I remember it, but I don’t think anyone else would. Except perhaps Lilly, although you were a grubby baby with dimples, back then.”

  Everyone laughed, even Lilly. Her amusement seemed to loosen something in Emma’s chest, for Lilly had been disinclined to smile since she arrived, and Jasper lingered by her side. Her mood had settled over Emma like a cloud. Her dread of speaking about the event, the thing which had made Jasper warn Will to guard Emma, had grown like summer storm clouds in Emma’s mind—shapeless, but black with dark promise.