by Miers, Fiona
She was tired and wished to crawl into her bed and stay there for the remainder of the evening. The strenuous caring for her mother as well as the added anxiety regarding Caroline’s poor prognosis only made it worse. It was a load that was much too heavy for her to bear alone.
She wiped the sweat from her brow and drew in a deep breath, taking a moment to herself. How she wished Charles could be there. He had a very special talent for easing the burdens from her shoulders, although he was not the most compassionate man in the world. He understood grief more than most people, and more than most people thought he would. She truly regretted telling him not to accompany her.
His presence would have deterred Joseph from overstepping his boundaries too. Joseph’s persistent behaviour as well as his inability to grasp that she was not in the least interested in him or his advances infuriated her, only adding to her exhausted state.
As she entered the dining room, she drew in a deep breath. The table was already prepared for dinner with the exception of the meal being served, and Emma smiled sadly. She recalled all the family dinners at that table, and her heart ached once more as she followed the wood grain with her finger.
“There you are.”
Joseph’s deep voice sent shivers of apprehension down her spine and she whirled around.
“I am getting the distinct impression that you are avoiding me,” he said, slowly approaching her.
“I am caring for my mother and ensuring the household continues to run smoothly,” Emma said.
“You do too much.”
“It is expected of me,” Emma said and cocked her head. “Why are you still here? It is clear that Charles is not here, and he is the reason you arrived here unannounced, is he not?”
“Not entirely,” he said.
Emma’s heart began to pound in her chest and panic began to consume her. She stepped backwards, attempting to distance herself from Joseph, but he simply continued to approach her.
“Joseph, this is not proper,” she said.
“Nor are my thoughts of you, Emma.”
Joseph’s tone was eerie, and it terrified her. Her hand began to shake, and she became aware that there was nowhere for her to go. No escape.
She glanced to her right and noticed a table beside her, with three glasses of sherry. She quickly reached for a glass and threw the contents at Joseph.
He hollered loudly and stepped away, allowing her to slip from his reach.
“What on earth has come over you?” he asked.
“I can ask you that same question. Have you no respect?” Emma stormed off, fighting the tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks.
At that moment, she did not give one whit about the consequences of her actions. She only wished to be as far away from the cad as possible.
AFTER DINNER EMMA EXCUSED herself, feeling both nauseated and exhausted.
“Are you well, my dear?” Roland asked.
Emma ran her fingers through her hair and shook her head. “It has been a tiring and mentally overwhelming day, Father. I am simply drained.”
“I will sit with your mother tonight. You and the children can rest.”
“Are you certain?” Emma asked.
“Of course. You have done so much since your arrival here. Too much, in fact.”
Emma smiled tiredly at her father. “She is my mother and you are my father. You cared for me when I was a child, and it seems only fitting that I do so now in your time of need.”
“Go rest, Emma.”
Emma nodded and as she walked down the long hallway to the stairs, an eerie feeling ran up her spine. She couldn’t ignore the apprehension and quickly changed direction. She knocked on the door to the servants’ quarters, and it opened quickly.
“Clair, I am terribly sorry to disturb you, but I have a favour to ask.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” the maid said, pulling her robe tighter around her shoulders.
“Would it be at all possible for you to sleep in my chambers with me?”
The maid stared at her for a moment, and Emma’s stomach dipped with fear at the idea of being rejected.
“Of course, Your Grace. Is something amiss?” Clair asked with a furrowed brow.
Emma bit her lip. “I am not certain how to answer your question, Clair.”
The maid shook her head. “No matter. I will gather my bedding.”
“Thank you, Clair,” Emma said.
Emma only waited briefly outside the servants’ quarters, then she and Clair made their way to her bedchambers.
Once inside, Emma locked the door and offered to assist Clair to prepare her bed on the sofa in the small sitting area. The maid, of course, declined, urging an overtired Emma to rest. Nevertheless, Emma pushed the heavy desk in front of the door, much to the confusion of the maid.
As Emma eventually climbed into bed, the maid glanced at her. “Your Grace?”
“Yes, Clair?”
“If I may ask, why is Your Grace barricading the door?” Clair asked.
“Can I rely on your discretion?”
“Of course.”
“Lord Lundham arrived at Mill Grand House unannounced, claiming that he came to speak with my husband, Charles, but that was a lie.”
“Why does Your Grace not ask him to leave?”
“I tried, but he clearly does not comprehend that I have no interest in him.”
Before Clair or Emma were able to utter another word, footsteps sounded down the hallway, approaching the door of her bedchambers. She pressed her finger against her mouth, signalling to the maid to be as quiet as possible. The footsteps came to a stop in front of the door, and it was silent for a moment.
Emma lowered her finger from her mouth and as she turned herself towards the door, the panel started to rattle as though someone were attempting to open it. Emma motioned to the maid and the two women crept closer to the door and grabbed the edge of the desk, ensuring that whoever was on the other side would not be able to enter.
Although Emma’s body shook with fear, she was determined not to allow Joseph to enter her bedchambers.
Fortunately, the rattling of the door stopped and loud footsteps disappeared down the stairs.
Emma sighed a breath of relief and looked at Clair.
“Your Grace should inform someone of this,” the maid said, her voice shaking.
“I will, Clair. I will,” Emma said breathlessly and pressed her forehead against the cool wood of the desk.
THE SKY WAS STILL DARK as Charles climbed into the coach and sat opposite his valet. They quietly crept from the manor house, ensuring he did not wake his brothers. He wished to avoid a lecture as much as possible, which he knew would occur if any of his brothers encountered him before departure.
His patience with Joseph had run out. Charles wasn’t sure how his cousin had learned that Emma had returned to her parents’ home, but it upset him to no end that they had no privacy.
Joseph had no regard for anyone but himself, and he had no respect for Charles and Emma’s marriage. That was perhaps the thing that upset Charles the most. Emma was his wife, not a mistress.
As the coach began to move and the hooves of the horses sounded on the stone pathway, he glanced out of the window at his dark home.
“When will our first stop be, Your Grace?”
“When the sun rises, but it will only be to change out the horses. I must get to Mill Grand House as hastily as possible.”
“Very well, Your Grace. I have brought the foldable writing desk as well, to assist with correspondence.”
“Thank you, Geoffrey.”
“Your Grace is most welcome.”
Charles spent his time completing all the Parliamentary correspondence by candlelight. Paperwork that he had not been able to attend to, as well as financial matters regarding the textile business in London.
He was grateful that he had several hours travel time, which assisted him to catch up, although his thoughts continually drifted to Emma and her safety. He
shuddered at the thought that she would be in danger from Joseph’s unwelcome attention.
Anger began to rise inside him, but he temporarily shoved it to the back of his mind. It would do him no good to be upset over something he was not even certain had happened. He did trust Emma, as she had been the only constant in his life for more than ten years.
Their first stop was very brief. The horses were changed out, then they were on their way again. Charles and Geoffrey enjoyed a quiet lunch together that was sparse on conversation. Charles was not in the mood for chitchat. He stared out of the window, thinking of Emma. There were many things he wished to say to her, things he’d never told her before.
Emma was a strong-willed woman who stood up for herself. Never before had it been necessary to come to her aid. On this occasion, however, he desired to protect her. He wanted to rescue Emma from Joseph’s clutches and prove that he truly cared for her.
He had many things planned for when he arrived at Mill Grand House, but he needed to get rid of Joseph first, before he was able to declare his love to Emma. He would make it clear to Joseph that his wife was off-limits and that he was unwelcome anywhere near Emma or his family ever again.
Charles had never felt as disrespected as he had at that moment. He could not imagine how Emma felt, being on the receiving end of such unwanted attention.
As he continued to stare out of the window, the countryside passed him by. Hopefully Emma would be able to forgive him for the way he’d behaved. Not only with regards to the situation with Joseph, but all the times he’d hurt her, upset her, and unknowingly caused her to feel unappreciated. She had done so much for him, and he had not shown her the gratitude and appreciation she deserved.
All of that would change. During his fits of rage, he had realised that Emma was not merely his wife through an arranged marriage. She was the mother of his three beautiful daughters, the woman who had listened to him for more than a decade.
She had endured his theatrics, his moods, his somewhat irrational behaviour at times, and she had always remained by his side. He loved her, and the mere thought of her receiving attention from another man caused him agony he could not have imagined. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought he would develop such strong feelings for Emma.
Emma had mentioned her affection for him on more than one occasion, and he was ashamed to recall his dismissive replies. He’d given his wife the impression that he had not married her for love, and that it was not necessary for a successful marriage. He lowered his gaze as he scolded himself, disappointed at his own mind and foolish heart.
Although it had taken this situation to happen for him to finally realise how much he truly cared for Emma, he was now fearful. How did she feel about him? Were his feelings reciprocated? He would not be surprised if Emma no longer held any affection for him at all, especially after the way he’d treated her.
Charles, who was known for his stubborn nature, was determined to win back her heart even though he had never wanted it in the first place.
He clenched his hands into fists.
God, what a fool I was. No more.
Chapter Fifteen
Caroline’s chambers were brightly lit, the drapes pulled back all the way, allowing the sunlight to drench the room in a golden glow. Catherine was seated beside Emma, reading one of her favourite novels.
Emma had her back pressed again the backrest of the rocking chair, her head cocked, as she slowly rocked herself. Listening to Catherine’s soothing voice somewhat eased the tension in her shoulders, but she did not want to think of the events of the previous night.
Joseph had cornered her in the dining room, and she’d been forced to throw an entire glass of sherry at him. It was the only thing she was able to think of at the time. She hadn’t gotten much sleep after the miscreant had attempted to enter her room, either.
She’d slept with one eye open even though the maid had shared her chamber, waking to the sound of every little noise in the house. She was terrified of what he may do to her, but thus far, much to Emma’s relief, she had avoided seeing Joseph the entire day as it was spent in the company of her mother.
She was terrified of what he may possibly do to her when she eventually found herself alone in a room with him, and she vowed not to allow that to happen.
Her thoughts travelled back to Charles, wondering if he had received the letter she wrote to him, and whether he would be joining her and the children to say his farewells to Caroline. Perhaps he was still angry and upset and did not wish to see her? Could he have returned to London already, and yet again broken his promise to his children?
Emma was not sure what to think, and the uncertainty of it all caused her to fight the tears that had formed in her eyes. She did not wish for her mother, or Catherine for that matter, to see her upset, although she feared they were already aware of her feelings. The mere fact that Charles had remained at the estate was a concern to her father, who had mentioned it to her mother as well. Her parents knew when things were not right between the couple. So much so, that she did not even need to tell them.
Emma glanced at Caroline, who eyed her suspiciously. Then she gave her a knowing nod, which comforted Emma. Her bond with her mother was very strong, as was her own bond with Catherine. It saddened her to see her mother deteriorate in front of her eyes, knowing she did not have much time left. There was nothing more Emma was able to do.
As Catherine ended her chapter, she quietly closed her book and Emma glanced at her. “You read beautifully, my dear Catherine.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Catherine said and turned to her grandmother. “Did you also enjoy that, Grandmother?”
“Of course. It is one of my favourites.”
“Mine as well,” both Emma and Catherine said at the same time.
The three women giggled, and Catherine placed the book beside her. “Grandmother, may I ask a question?”
“Of course, you may, my dear.”
Catherine smiled briefly and leaned forward. “What would be your best memory?”
“Catherine, I do not think that to be an appropriate question, given the circumstances,” Emma said.
Caroline waved a thin hand in the air. “Oh, but it is the perfect question, Emma. Have we not experienced enough pain and grief the past few days? I know caring for me and ensuring that everything is tended to is not an easy task. I, for one, feel guilty that I have imposed on your life in such a way.”
Emma sat up in the rocking chair, needing to reassure her mother that caring for her was no burden. “You did not impose. I am here willingly and will not leave your side.”
Her mother chuckled and glanced at Catherine. “She is rather intense, is she not?”
“Indeed, Grandmother.”
“Let me tell you about your mother,” Caroline said, and Emma rolled her eyes.
“I hardly think Catherine wishes to hear of my childhood ways,” Emma said.
“I would love to hear about it,” Catherine said. “Mother does not talk about herself much. She is always too busy ensuring that we are taken care of.”
“Your mother has been that way for many, many years.”
Emma rose to her feet and exhaled loudly. “If you would excuse me.”
“Where are you going?” her mother asked. “I was just about to tell Catherine of the frog you attempted to nurse back to health.”
“A frog?” Catherine asked, her eyes sparkling. “You touched a frog, Mother?”
“Indeed,” Emma said.
“That is truly delightful. Tell me the story please, Grandmother.”
“Of course, dear,” Caroline said and turned to Emma. “Would you wish to stay?”
“No. I am stepping out to the gardens. I think I need a breath of fresh air,” Emma said, her chest tight with emotion. She’d had a wonderful childhood and sitting here with her dying mother was not making her want to re-live those memories.
Not today.
“Be careful of the frogs,” Catherine
said, and cocked her head. “But you are not afraid of them, are you, Mother? Unlike Father.”
Emma lowered her gaze and refrained from answering Catherine’s question. She excused herself and made her way outside, the sunshine welcoming her with open arms. She followed the path to the garden, where her father would be, tidying up with the gardener. But today, he was nowhere to be seen.
Nevertheless, Emma was grateful for the fresh air and the peaceful ambience around her. Even if she only went for a short walk, she desperately needed to clear her head. Being cooped up inside for most of the morning and the afternoon made her feel like a prisoner in a place where she usually found solace.
The garden was beautiful, filled with wildflowers, roses and petunias. The hedges were lush and green, and the sky overhead was a bright blue hue, with fluffy white clouds gliding over her head. Butterflies fluttered passed as she continued down the pathway, with not an inkling of a sense of direction. She merely strolled, trying to free her mind of the sombre thoughts of her mother’s condition. She was unable to imagine her life without her dear mother, and she feared Charles would not make it in time to still see her alive.
If he was even coming.
AS UNBELIEVABLE AS it may sound if he said it aloud, Charles felt the distance between him and Emma lessen the closer they got to her parents’ home. His heart did not feel as heavy as it had previously. She was now within reach and he would not be able to contain himself if he saw her upon his arrival.
He knew that he had reached his destination when the coach turned sharply to the left, moving down a wide road with lush green hedges on each side. A large mill wheel carved from stone was mounted on a marble block, indicating the entrance.
It was a large country estate that had been in Emma’s family for generations, and her father had resided there his entire life. It was nearly as tranquil as Finlay Hall—without the sounds of the crashing waves and the salty sea air, of course.
