by Abby Ayles
“In truth, we have begun running out of everything in the kitchen,” Lydia admitted. “I have only been spending whatever was left after Marcus’s… expenses to replenish supplies.”
Emma took her friend’s hands and smiled reassuringly.
“I have a fortnight’s worth of wages that I had not yet had time to send,” she said. “We should have more than enough to buy some food with it.”
Lydia’s face relaxed at once.
“Oh, wonderful,” she said. “Do come in and tell me how things have been for you.”
Emma spent several hours telling Lydia almost everything. Of course, Lydia was curious about Francis’s wife, but after her conversation with Rosaline, Emma did not feel comfortable divulging all the details. She simply told her that Caroline was accidentally shot.
She also left out the part about Francis’s father-in-law trying to blackmail him into marrying again so soon. That was Francis’s private business, and it was certainly not her place to discuss it, even with her dearest friend.
Before Emma realized it, it was well into the evening. She found that she was exhausted, and Lydia looked as though she, too, could use a good rest.
She dismissed Lydia for the night and went straight to her bedroom, where she was asleep within minutes.
***
Emma’s first few days back home were simultaneously comforting and disheartening. While she was, indeed, very glad to be in her own home, it was also a severe reminder of the way Francis had slighted her.
It also brought the full weight of the predicament with Marcus crashing back down on her, especially since Francis had told her he had seen him in town.
She had no idea what had transpired between Marcus and Francis, nor what conclusions Francis had drawn, but she prayed that he did not suspect the truth. She could not bear it if he did.
Then again, perhaps he did, and that is why he planned such a sudden trip and left her behind.
Trying to shake off such paranoid thoughts, Emma decided that she would pen Marcus a letter. She had not been able to keep in proper contact with him while at Blackburn Manor, lest Francis happened upon some of their correspondences.
She had received her information from Lydia, and in the vaguest of contexts that only she would be able to understand. She wanted to ask Marcus about his conversation with Francis, but she feared that it would only make things that much worse with, or for, him.
Just then, there was a knock at the front door. Emma had sent Lydia into town to get food, so she rushed down the stairs to answer it, hoping it might be her brother. She moved so quickly to the door that her foot got tangled in the hem of her dress, and she nearly tripped.
Cursing herself for being so clumsy, she straightened herself and forced herself to approach the door more slowly. When she opened the door, she let out a loud gasp.
It was certainly not Marcus calling. No, it was Rosaline.
“Good day, Emma,” Rosaline said, smiling. Then, seeing the shocked look on Emma’s face, she frowned slightly. “Is this a bad time?”
Rosaline’s concerned voice broke her free from the shock of seeing her.
“Not at all,” Emma said, embracing Rosaline to try to hide her emotion. “I am just very pleasantly surprised to see you here. Please, won’t you come in?”
She spoke the complete truth; she was very glad to see Rosaline. However, her arrival had given her a sudden and forceful reminder of Francis’s sudden and cold departure. This renewed her sadness, but she resolved that she would not allow herself to cry.
Emma stepped aside so Rosaline could enter the house. Instantly, Emma regretted it. Her home was too shabby for a well-to-do lady like Rosaline and, due to the shortage of house staff, largely far too dusty.
Quickly, she averted her gaze and ushered Rosaline into the tiny, worn drawing room.
She motioned for Rosaline to have a seat, then another horrific thought occurred to Emma.
“I do apologize, but I cannot yet offer you tea or cakes,” she said. “My maid has not yet returned from the market.”
She winced, realizing how much of her poor finances her statement exposed. Suddenly, Emma was certain that Rosaline would run from her house, laughing at Emma’s unfortunate circumstances.
Rosaline, having not yet seated herself, took Emma’s hands.
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “You could not have known to expect me.”
When Emma dared glance at Rosaline, she was looking directly at Emma and smiling with such kindness that Emma once more wanted to cry.
She searched Rosaline’s face for any sign that she felt contempt for, or amused by, her or her run-down house and lack of proper hospitality, but there was none. Instead, there was genuine affection and pleasure at being in Emma’s company.
Emma felt a great sense of relief, but also a mild annoyance. She loved Rosaline, but at that moment, Rosaline seemed almost too perfect.
Many women were beautiful, kind, poised, or wealthy, but very few women were all of those things. Rosaline, however, embodied all these traits, and more. And, for those reasons, Emma loved and admired her, and felt truly blessed to have her friendship.
Unable to find adequate words, Emma simply smiled at Rosaline gratefully.
Rosaline squeezed Emma’s hands, but instead of sitting, she stared at something behind Emma. Emma held her breath, suddenly sure, despite her earlier assessment of the woman’s kindness, that Rosaline had finally noticed the state of her house and was preparing to say something.
However, Rosaline’s face looked enamored rather than disgusted. Perplexed, Emma turned to see what had captured Rosaline’s attention.
“Is that Marcus?” she asked.
Emma realized at once that she was looking at the portrait of her brother hanging on the wall. The portrait had been painted just before everything started changing with Marcus. In it, he looked confident, strong and happy. Emma’s heart ached.
“It is,” she said, trying to hide her emotion from Rosaline.
Rosaline stepped closer to the portrait, and Emma thought she saw a faint blush on her cheeks. She watched, bemused, as Rosaline continued to stare at the painting, her fascination growing.
“Why is it that neither of you has been seen in public in the last two years?” Rosaline asked, not taking her eyes off the painting.
Emma’s heart stopped. Was this the reason for Rosaline’s unannounced visit? Had Francis put her up to trying to get the information from Emma that he had failed to acquire?
Horrified, Emma could do nothing but stare at Rosaline. She tried to conjure a response, but her thoughts raced so fast that she could not grasp a single one.
Rosaline turned from the painting, no doubt having noticed Emma’s abrupt, lengthy silence. She moved to Emma’s side and took her hands.
“Emma, please,” she said. “I do not mean to pry, but if there is some kind of trouble, I want to help.”
Whatever Rosaline’s motivations for asking about Marcus, they were genuine. And, at that moment, Emma realized just how desperately she needed to tell someone she trusted what was happening.
With a sigh, she squeezed Rosaline’s hands and led her to a faded bench seat.
“Marcus has been stricken with consumption,” Emma said, swallowing the lump forming in her throat.
Rosaline gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Before she could speak, however, Emma pressed on.
“Since he fell ill, it has been difficult to keep things running smoothly. Especially since, as you know, our parents were far from wealthy towards the end.”
Rosaline remained silent, but Emma could see tears filling her eyes. Emma looked away and took a breath to try to control her own.
“Every bit of the money we had coming in was going directly to doctors and remedies, and to pay for the country house in which he has been staying to try and get better,” she continued.
“But, with expenses growing and money only dwindling, it all very quickly became far more tha
n I could afford to handle on my own. That is why I took the position as Lord Ashfield’s governess.”
As she finished speaking, the wave of emotion became too much. The months of struggling and worrying about Marcus caught up to her in one moment, and she buried her face in her hands and began to cry.
Without a word, Rosaline hugged Emma tightly. Rosaline was murmuring things to her, but Rosaline’s voice was so calm and hushed that she could not hear most of them over her sobbing.
It was soothing, however, and Emma was very thankful. Relief slowly began to replace the heavy burden of hiding Marcus’s secret.
When her tears subsided, Rosaline pulled gently away from Emma. When she returned, she handed a cool, damp cloth to her.
Emma accepted the cloth gratefully. Rosaline sat silently for a few more minutes as Emma cleaned up her tear-stained face.
“Perhaps we should go and visit your brother,” Rosaline said. “It could not hurt to try to lift his spirits a bit. That would certainly be a step toward speeding along his recovery.”
Emma started to ask what prompted the sudden suggestion, but Rosaline was deep in thought.
“I had a friend who isolated herself from everyone after she succumbed to severe sadness after the birth of her baby,” she continued. “Being so alone so much of the time was certainly of no help to her.”
Emma thought for a moment. While she doubted very much that their sudden arrival would be any sort of miracle cure for her brother, she did miss him. Perhaps it would lift his spirits, and at least help him feel just a little better.
She was also very glad for Rosaline’s understanding and felt that she owed it to her to agree to them paying Marcus a visit.
“Alright,” Emma said, setting aside the cloth and standing. “I can arrange a carriage for us to leave at once.”
Rosaline blushed a deep crimson. She looked at Emma with wide eyes.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” she said.
Emma noticed, not without some amusement, that Rosaline suddenly seemed flustered and out-of-sorts. She fussed with her dress and smoothed down her hair, and Emma had to hide a smile.
She caught sight of Lydia, who had just returned from town in a hired coach, walking by.
“Lydia, please ask the driver to wait,” Emma said. “We must make a brief trip into town.”
Chapter 14
The first couple of days of the trip had the exact effect Francis had desired. He was able to clear his head and remove the stress of everything going on at home, and he was spending some long-overdue time with Winston and Rowena.
The children loved the nice country home. There were horses to ride, plenty of picnic spots near the grounds, and many new places to explore. He even found himself laughing with his children and enjoying their company more than he had in months.
However, as time went on, he found that he could not keep his thoughts from wandering to Emma.
He had never been able to completely push his strange conversation with Marcus out of his mind, nor could he cease all his worry about what sort of trouble it was that Emma’s brother was causing her.
Sometimes, he felt terribly guilty for pressing the issue so with Emma. Other times, he wished he had pressed a bit more. It wasn’t that he felt entitled to know what was going on. He simply wished, more so with each passing day, that there was something he could do to help his governess.
When he was not thinking of Marcus, he thought about the day he and the children had left for this trip.
At first, the children had been thrilled and could not wait to depart. However, as they boarded the carriage, his son and daughter inquired about Emma, and if she would be joining them at their destination later.
When he told them that Emma would not be joining them, they had shared terribly dejected expressions, which had tugged at Francis’s heart. He told himself that Emma likely would not have wished to go, but he could not quite make himself believe it.
When he had told Emma that they were leaving, he could have sworn that she seemed hurt. Of course, he told himself that that could not have been the case, that she must have simply been surprised by the sudden news. However, Emma was rarely brusque and cool with anyone, unless she was upset or angry.
The more he thought about having potentially hurt Emma, the guiltier Francis felt. Although he had been sure of himself and his decision to make the sudden trip without inviting Emma at the time, now he felt as though he had made a terrible mistake.
He knew that he could not clear his head and get his thoughts in order with Emma around, but now he could not get the expression on her face when he told her that he and the children were leaving out of his mind.
Worst of all, he knew that his guilt stemmed from his growing feelings for her, and his desire to pursue her as a result of those feelings.
He knew in his heart that he could not pursue her, no matter how much he may wish he could. He also knew that she likely had no such feelings for him, especially since he had been so cold toward her and then pried so strongly into her personal life.
These thoughts chased each other in his mind, and the constant racing made Francis feel as though he would soon go mad.
So, when his friend, Charles, the earl of Edgewood, invited him to go on a ride through the countryside while Winston and Rowena went on a picnic and played happily with Charles’s daughters, Jane and Alice, and their nurse, Francis had happily agreed. He felt that a little fresh air and the feel of a horse beneath him would set him right.
Yet, as they rode, he found that his thoughts were only intensifying.
“Ho, there,” a cheery voice called, grating on Francis’s raw nerves. “What has you so deep in thought there?”
Francis cleared his throat, trying to hide his inner turmoil.
“Oh, forgive me, Charles,” Francis said. “I was just wondering how the children are getting along without their governess.”
“Well, they seem to be quite fine to me,” Charles said, looking at Francis with equal parts amusement and perplexity. “They seem to quite enjoy the company of my little Jane and Alice.”
“Yes, it is just that they have gotten accustomed to having her around, and they were a bit hesitant to leave her behind,” Francis said.
I have also gotten quite accustomed to having her nearby, Francis added silently. It is quite bereaving without her here.
Charles snorted, snapping Francis out of the train of thought he could barely bring himself to acknowledge.
“What’s that?” Francis asked, looking at Charles cautiously. There was no way his friend could have heard his thoughts, but with such a reaction, he could not help but wonder.
“You really ought to be careful about hiring on a governess,” Charles said, not attempting to hide his disdain when speaking the word.
“Why is that?” Francis asked.
Charles gave Francis an indulgent laugh, and he frowned deeply.
“I recently had to fire Alice and Jane’s governess, and their nanny, as well,” he said. “Sadly, so did Bryce.”
Francis was not sure where this conversation was going, but he was beginning to become irritated. Although he did not say so, he knew that Bryce, Earl of Russmoor, was rather picky when it came to his house staff. He had always been picky about many things, more so than many of the other gentlemen Francis knew in the ton.
“What happened?” he asked.
“They could not be trusted,” he said, as though the answer were obvious.
“Surely you do not say that simply because they were employees,” Francis said, barely able to conceal his growing agitation.
“Not at all,” Charles said. “As it turned out, they were thieves.”
Francis slowed the pace of his horse and looked at his friend, aghast.
“You were able to prove their crimes?” he asked.
“Insofar as knowing for certain that things like our silver and jewelry were going missing, it was proven without a doubt,” Charles said. “As t
o which one of them did it, they naturally both adamantly denied it. They would not speak out against one another, either. So, I let them both go.”
Francis rode for a few moments in silence. He had, of course, heard of household staff stealing things from the wealthy families who employed them, but those cases were very rare. Usually, it was another family member or friend who was stealing and trying to frame the help for the crime.
To hear that his friends had both employed untrustworthy staff members perturbed him.
“That is unfortunate,” Francis said after a moment. “Are you sure that the items were not simply misplaced?”
