by Abigail Agar
Eric imagined that she was simply quiet. Whatever good things there were about her, she was not one to flaunt them. That much he could see.
Miss Sproul looked at Amelia and saw that she was a decent distance away, and she had not looked back.
“I am sorry for getting you involved in this,” Eric said to her when she turned back to him.
“You did not get me involved. I understand that this must be very difficult for you. Amelia is a strong-willed young woman and she is bolder than any lady I have ever met,” Miss Sproul said.
“Truly? It is not simply because she hates our father and doesn’t want to have anything to do with me?” Eric asked.
“Well, I did not say that. She really dislikes any man of nobility and she will not quickly change that aspect of her nature. But you should know that she is a good woman and I think that one day she might even understand that you are not your father,” Miss Sproul said.
It was a small hope, but a hope that he needed in that moment.
“Thank you,” Eric said, unsure what else he really could say to her.
“It is nothing. I only hope that the both of you find what it is that you are hoping for. You know, I think that you will get to know her one day, even if it is not so soon as you would like for it to be,” Miss Sproul said.
With that, she gave him the sweetest smile and turned away, following behind Amelia and heading into the town.
Eric stood for a moment, the morning air aging into a warmth upon his face.
He saw his sister growing smaller in the distance and figured he had best make his way back to the inn. But even with that knowledge, he did not wish to go anywhere. He wanted to convince Amelia to listen to him. He did not know what else to say or do in order to find the victory that Miss Sproul said she thought he might one day have.
But Miss Sproul had tried to stand up on his behalf. She had been kind, comforting to him. She had spoken in his favour, even if it went ignored. Yes, she was clearly loyal to Amelia, but perhaps she was not so quiet as he had perceived her to be. Perhaps, she had a boldness of her own.
Miss Sproul appeared wise in how she responded to his sister’s actions and how it was that she interacted with him. He was very impressed and wished that he could have more time to spend with her and get to know her.
“Miss Sproul, you are actually quite magnificent,” he whispered into the air.
But guilt overwhelmed him after that. He was not in Finchley to admire a young woman. He was in Finchley to know his sister. He was there to prove that he was a decent man and could be someone with whom she shared a relationship.
It appeared that these hopes would not come to pass quickly.
After returning from his walk, Eric sat with Reginald and shook his head.
“I just do not know what to do,” he said.
“Perhaps you are better off leaving her alone for now. She knows your name. She may come to find you in time. Or you may write to her now and again, even visit once more in a few months from now,” Reginald suggested.
“But if she would just give me a few moments, she would see that I am not the sort of man that she thinks I am. We will have lost these months together if I wait,” Eric said.
“Am I correct in thinking that it is no longer only your sister whom you wish to know?” Reginald asked.
“Whatever do you mean by that?” Eric asked.
“You mentioned her friend…more than once. How she was kind to you and supportive and gave you hope. She is beautiful, no doubt. Is there nothing to say that, perhaps, you are intrigued by her and have considered that you may wish to know her as well?” Reginald asked.
Eric grew quiet and took a deep breath.
“I came here to find my sister and now I wish to get to know her. That is all. Whatever else I am suspected of wanting, there is nothing so important to me as making Amelia realise that we are family and that is what matters between us,” Eric said.
Still, he knew that he could hardly refute what Reginald had said. Even if Amelia was his priority, did that mean he could not find another reason to stay?
Chapter 8
Emma knew that she should not have done it. Trying to defend the Earl of Thornbury had been a mistake. But it had felt like the right thing and a strong part of her still believed that it had been.
Nevertheless, Amelia gave her a brief, frosty stare when Emma caught up with her on the street. They were walking into town to get some breakfast as Amelia had mentioned the pain in her head and Emma wanted her to do eat something more than the food she would have received at home.
“I am sorry for speaking up in his defence,” she said immediately.
“I know. You are a good woman and you want everyone to have a chance. I understand and I do not blame you for that, so please, it is nothing,” Amelia said.
Emma was astounded by the display of mercy that she had received.
“And anyway, it really does not matter. If you wish to be kind to him, you may be. It is too late for him, however. My mother is already doing what she can to spread the news about the affair with his father,” Amelia said in a nonchalant way.
Emma wanted to remind her that the earl’s father was also her own but knew that would not be wise.
“She is spreading the word about it?” Emma asked.
“Indeed. Soon, the late earl’s reputation will be all but destroyed. Of course, that will also bring a great deal of humiliation upon his son,” Amelia said, not appearing to care at all that it was her brother she was speaking of destroying.
“You care so little for him?” Emma asked.
“Ha! Do you even need to ask me? Have I not made it perfectly clear that I have no intention of acknowledging that such a man could ever be my brother?” Amelia replied, with the same stiff bitterness that Emma did not really believe.
There was no possibility that Amelia could truly hate this man or her father so much that she would forever reject the possibility of knowing him and having a relationship with him. She couldn’t believe it.
“You don’t think you will have any interest in knowing him? Ever?” Emma asked.
“Never. I would not waste my time on someone who is related to the pig. Like I said, men like him can never be trusted. The best thing for them is to expose them to the world for who they really are. By exposing his father, he will be shamed as well and everyone will know that the men of Thornbury are cowards, adulterers, and the worst sort of men,” she said.
Emma looked at her hands, fiddling with them as they walked, slowly and calmly, as if there was nothing at all the matter.
“So what has your mother said about him?” Emma asked.
“Nothing much. She just put out word with a whiff of the scandal. I am sure the truth will come out as a result of it,” Amelia said.
Emma looked at Amelia in alarm. If her mother put out word without details, it would not only expose the affair, but a whole manner of untrue and grievous things would be said. That was how the scandal sheets worked best. They took a grain of truth and turned them into the best gossip.
“But what if the scandal sheets print something that isn’t the case?” Emma asked.
“They probably will, but who cares? There were many lies told about my mother when she became pregnant with me. Why should he not be subject to the same treatment? That man, the man who was my father, he deserves this, Emma. Can you not see that?” Amelia asked.
But she could not. She could only see the fact that now the late earl’s family was going to suffer the consequences of his indiscretion.
***
The day had been filled with a break from all of Amelia’s family tragedy by the two young ladies making their way to a small theatre where there was a production of William Shakespeare’s King Lear that had been put on by a small troupe of performers who were traveling around England.
It had been thrilling to watch them get into the characters and Emma had to try not to cry for poor Cordelia, the only one amongst them wi
th any integrity.
At the end, Amelia had laughed and made a joke about the difficulty that daughters face when they have foolish fathers. Aside from that, there had been nothing more said regarding the late Earl of Thornbury, or the current.
But now they were preparing to have dinner with Amelia’s mother, Liza. Emma walked into the small room the two ladies used for a dining room and was grateful for the smell of the vegetable stew that Miss Lockhart had made for them.
“This is perfectly delicious,” Emma commented.
“I am glad that you like it. It is very simple to make,” Miss Lockhart said.
“Emma is not an accomplished cook, but she knows that she had better learn. Her mother is such a wonderful baker that I can hardly believe she has not inherited a better skill,” Amelia said.
“I have heard about your mother. She sounds quite talented with dough. I shall have to seek her out one of these days,” Miss Lockhart said.
“I am sure that she would like that very much,” Emma replied.
“I told Emma about the society pages,” Amelia then interjected, her mother breaking into a girlish grin.
“Oh? So you know about our little quest for justice?” Miss Lockhart asked.
“Yes, I am aware,” Emma replied.
“But she does not approve,” Amelia added, looking conspiratorially at her mother.
“Oh, dear. You do not? I am glad that you have never been in such a position as having to approve of this. I am glad that you do not know what it is to be treated as I was and discarded with such vehemence. It truly is a luxury,” Miss Lockhart said.
It must have pained her to have a daughter that looked so much like the man that she hated. There were certain structures of the face that mirrored mother and daughter, but Miss Lockhart was of an olive, dark-haired and brown-eyed complexion. Very different from Amelia.
“I am only concerned that those who were not at fault may be caught in the midst of the gossip,” Emma said, making herself bolder than she felt.
“Ah, I see. Well, Miss Sproul, I thank you for that concern, but what I have learned in my years is that there are very few men who appear innocent who truly are. You see, they are, in general, all scoundrels,” Miss Lockhart said.
Emma felt terribly sad for Amelia in that moment. For all the times that she had criticised her friend, judging her for the bitterness and anger that she held, Emma had never known that it all stemmed from her mother.
Yes, she had imagined that Miss Lockhart held onto some anger and that had impacted Amelia. But she had never known that the same things Amelia spouted were simply repetitions of what she had heard her mother say. It was painful to see.
“Anyway, as it is, I am perfectly happy that I have allowed the truth of our matter out. Society may do as it pleases, you know? And my reputation hardly matters now. Everyone is aware that I had a child out of wedlock and at least now they will know that there was even a man involved in that,” she said with a laugh.
It was certainly true that Miss Lockhart would have been punished far worse than any man would have been, regardless of his position in society. For that, Emma understood the bitterness that Miss Lockhart felt. Nevertheless, she wished that the woman could see what she was doing to her daughter and how this would affect a young man who was not guilty in this matter.
The Earl of Thornbury was going to suffer, thanks to his father.
“I see what you mean. I only wish that no one would have to get hurt in order for you to find your justice,” Emma said.
“It is because of my own hurt that I am forced to seek justice,” Miss Lockhart said.
Emma understood what she meant, even if she disagreed. She did not wish to create any further problems for herself or for Amelia. She wanted only to see everyone at peace.
At the end of the meal, when Emma said her goodbyes and made for the door, she was relieved to be making her way home. It had been a good day, but one filled with so much heaviness and anger from the presence of the earl.
She began walking towards her own tenement when she saw him once more.
He was across the street, taking a walk and appearing as though he was trying to clear his thoughts. For a moment, Emma considered walking over and warning him about the storm that was soon to rain upon him. She wanted him to know about the fact that his father’s name would be smeared and, more than likely, his as well.
But her loyalty was to Amelia. Although she disagreed with her and with the plans that they were making to ruin him, she cared about Amelia. However, Emma still knew nothing about the earl. There was no reason to trust him when she did not know him.
As she watched, contemplating the matter, Emma was struck when she saw the earl’s gaze returned to her. He looked at her with a strange desperation, as if he hoped that she might come to speak with him, come to tell him what was going on.
As their eyes found one another, she was tempted, more than ever, to speak to him. She found herself wanting to know him, wanting to apologise to him for everything that he was going through and soon to face.
His eyes were searching her face and Emma had never felt more exposed. It was as though she had been caught in a whirlwind of hope and yearning and a desire to really know one another.
But the spell broke as a cart came barrelling down the road between them. Emma was reminded of her commitment to her friend and the earl was apparently reminded of the fact that he was nobility, and she chose to continue walking, as though she had not seen him at all.
Feeling his eyes follow her, Emma chanced a glance back, as subtly as she could, hoping that he would not notice.
But he did. His eyes still on her, her back to him and her neck twisting back to face forward, Emma gathered her strength and determined that she would not allow herself to be caught up in wanting anything from this man.
Amelia’s family had been wounded by a nobleman, but in many ways, the whole country had been held down by them. They ruled the whole of England and they did so by keeping others in their place.
The Sproul family had not been directly struck by them, but had they not also suffered at the arrogance and greed of those who held position? Were not her mother and father also held back as a result of noble England?
Nevertheless, Emma refused to allow herself such anger. It was simply how things were. If Lord Thornbury was willing to do anything to change that, she would welcome it, but how could he change an establishment? How could he be blamed for all of the flaws in England?
Then again, if the men in charge were not to be blamed, who was?
Chapter 9
Eric and Reginald made their way down the stairs of the inn. They had planned to go riding at one of the estates just outside of town where Reginald had a friend.
“You have never been to his estate?” Eric asked.
“No, as I told you, I have never come to Finchley. I see him only when he is in London,” Reginald said.
They reached the base of the stairs when Eric saw Mr. Hawthorne who ran the inn. The man looked at him strangely, a bit of a glare in his eyes.
“Good morning, Mr. Hawthorne,” Eric greeted.
“Mmm, Lord Thornbury,” Mr. Hawthorne grunted.
There was something wrong. Eric had no idea what it might be, but he was certain that he had never been spoken to in that way and it was a problem if Mr. Hawthorne was going to start it now. It meant that something had happened.
