"I doubt if Lady Markston will let your wedding come about so easily," Harriet commented, sipping her burgundy thoughtfully.
"Lady Markston has no choice. Either Susan becomes my wife, or it becomes known in London that she is a fallen woman since she publicly shared my bed. Then no one will marry her," Aubrey concluded.
"Isn't that rather… dishonest?" Emily asked innocently, once again glancing at Nigel.
"Not at all," Henry replied. "Lady Susan perpetuated the deception—she should suffer the consequences," he pronounced.
Emily stared straight at Nigel, who had enough morals to turn a slight shade of red.
"Have you tried the fish mottoes, Miss Winterhaven?" Nigel asked, obviously grasping at some sort of conversational topic.
Taking a sip of her burgundy, Emily gave him her most regal glare. "Lord Stratford, I have no wish to discuss the meal or any other topic of polite conversation with you now or at anytime in the future," she said icily.
"Emily, you can't spend the rest of the holiday not speaking to Nigel. It just isn't done," Harriet admonished, glancing from one to the other.
A large tear welled up in her eye, and Emily was certain that she couldn't finish her meal with Nigel sitting across from her, enveloping her in a soulful gaze. So she stood up and faced Harriet, and replied, "I thought you would at least understand."
Before Harriet could deign to reply, Emily murmured, "Excuse me," and left the formal dining room.
Nigel followed her, calling, "Emily, wait a moment."
She was halfway up the staircase when Nigel grabbed her arm forcefully. "Emily, I must speak with you," he said, holding her in her steps.
Emily looked at the glistening wooden steps and said nothing.
Nigel took a deep breath. "Emily, I'm sorry about the pendant, and about Roger. Yes, I originally came here to buy the mermaid back from you, but after you told me you'd never get rid of it, I completely forgot about the matter. I love you and want to marry you. Can't we work this out?"
The tears were now silently streaming down Emily's cheeks. She wanted to forgive Nigel more than life itself, but she had learned about trust from his dear brother Roger. He's just toying with me, just like Lady Markston said, she thought, her face mirroring the anguish of her soul.
"Please, Emily?" he whispered, his face pale and tormented.
Emily looked down at him and softly said, "I'm sorry," before wrenching out of his grasp and slowly walking up the stairs.
It was the right thing to do, she thought, as she walked into her bedroom and flung herself down on the bed. She felt as if her heart was being torn out of her chest.
"Another glass of port?" Henry asked, pouring himself a refill.
"Yes, I believe I need another glass," Nigel replied, gazing at the blazing fire before him.
Henry refilled Nigel's intricately cut crystal glass and took his seat across from his friend. "Did you sort out matters with Emily?"
Nigel shook his head wearily. "No. She looks at me as if I'm the devil himself."
Sipping his port, Henry commented, "Emily was a very trusting person before the incident with Roger. That's why she's avoided the ton. You're been the first male she's really… befriended since then."
"Thank you, Henry. I now feel even more like a blackguard," Nigel replied sarcastically, his hand white around the stem of the glass.
"I suppose the only solution is to cut and run," Henry replied, his eyes intent on Nigel.
Nigel stared into the fire, his face pale with anguish. "Obviously Emily didn't confide everything that occurred between us in the library to Harriet. I wanted to keep matters private, but I suppose I should tell you that before Blackmore arrived and threw a spanner in the works, I offered for Emily."
Henry didn't flinch. "Harriet mentioned it in passing. Dashed bad luck, you know," he muttered, draining his glass of port.
Nigel gazed into the fire and softly said, "Yes, I know. It couldn't have turned out worse," he lamented, drumming his fingers nervously on the arm of his chair.
"What are your plans?"
Nigel frowned. "For now, I think it's best that I leave for a while. My constant presence is only making things worse for Emily. If she has a few days, she may come to understand what happened."
Henry studied the well-heeled peer sitting across from him. Nigel looked as if he were about to meet Jack Ketch. His shirt and waistcoat were wrinkled, his hair was uncombed, and his boots were scuffed and dirty. It was obvious that Nigel was taking this whole incident as badly as Emily. "Lady Markston mentioned that she was going to be leaving tomorrow morning, since the weather has finally cleared up. It will be a virtual exodus," he commented, then added, "Will you be returning?"
A slight smile appeared on Nigel's face. "Oh yes, I'll be back for the Twelfth Night festivities. But no one else need know that."
"Do you have some sort of intrigue planned?" Henry asked curiously.
The smile became a trifle larger. "Yes, I think so. I do mean to win Emily back, you see. Or, at the very least, convince her that I'm not a heartless blackguard," Nigel announced.
Henry looked toward the heavens and replied, "You'll need a miracle for that, Nigel."
It was a clear, bright January morning and the snow that covered a significant amount of the pastoral English countryside was rapidly melting. The roads were now obviously ready for travel, and, while they were eating their very hearty breakfast, Harriet and Henry discussed that very topic.
"What time did Nigel leave?" Harriet asked casually, eating her kidneys with relish.
Henry, clad in a simple pair of buckskin breeches and a crisp white shirt, pondered the question. "I believe that Jem in the stables said he left before eight a.m.," he replied, picking out the smoked haddock in his kedgeree.
Harriet, her long blond hair bound in a simple maroon ribbon, looked at his plate with disdain. "I can't imagine how you can eat that swill, Henry," she commented with a grimace. "Did Nigel mention if he was coming back? It was dashed odd for him to leave without a by-your-leave."
"I expect we haven't seen the last of him," Henry commented with a broad wink at his wife.
"Seen the last of whom?" Emily asked from the door of the breakfast room, a brave smile on her colorless face.
Harriet brightened immediately. "Emily, good you've made it down for breakfast! Do help yourself," she said, waving her hand toward the mahogany sideboard brimming with food.
"Although I would avoid that awful kedgeree that Cook fixes for Henry," she added.
Emily, looking rather fragile in a high-necked, dove-gray morning gown, sat herself down next to Harriet, a simple sweet omelette on her plate. "Who has left? Is our party finally delivered from Lady Markston and her entourage?" Emily asked, obviously trying her hardest to pretend that there was nothing wrong.
"No. Actually, Nigel left this morning," Henry said, finishing up his meal.
"Oh," Emily said in a small voice that told her friends that the episode with Nigel was far from over.
"We were also talking about the Twelfth Night festivities," Harriet quickly said, and kicked Henry under the table.
"Yes, the Twelfth Night is always a grand celebration. Blackmore and his party usually go mumming, and they're always sure to stop by. Occasionally we join in the festivities," Henry quickly added, sipping his tea.
"Yes, that's always great fun, even if we're not involved. And Cook makes up the most wonderful subtleties for the celebrations, and it's a tradition in Henry's family to play the most ridiculous games that night," Harriet said brightly, staring intently at Emily.
Emily picked at her sweet omelette. "Oh. I'm sure it will be wonderful," she replied in a sedate voice. She radiated the eagerness of one at a funeral.
"We also do have news on Lady Markston. It appears that she is leaving sometime today, but wishes to have a coze with the entire party before her entourage leaves to visit their relations," Henry said, diving into his second helping of kedgeree, the Indian
delicacy that he obviously relished.
"Really," Emily muttered, staring blankly at her plate.
Henry and Harriet exchanged a look. It was obvious to the pair that Emily was not recovering from the row with Nigel.
Lady Markston, clad in a bright, apple-green gown adorned with yards of Belgian lace, paced the parlor nervously. She was waiting for that Emily Winterhaven to appear so she could address the entire party (sans Nigel, her trusted neighbor) with her proposition.
Susan, looking radiant in a white silk gown that had just enough flounce to make it daring, sat in the corner, stealing glances at Aubrey. He gazed intently at Lady Markston. Harriet and Henry were seated together on the black-and-gold recamier, prepared for whatever news Lady Markston might give them.
Emily quietly walked into the parlor, and Lady Markston barked, "Finally! We've been waiting for you, miss."
"I'm sorry," Emily said softly, and sat in the far corner on the black armchair with gilt ornaments.
Lady Markston continued pacing the room, the white coq feather in her apple-green turban bouncing with every step she took. "As you all know, my daughter and I are leaving today, since the weather has finally cleared," she began, staring out the window into the sunshine. "Before we depart, we wanted to assure you all that the unfortunate incident that happened several nights ago between my daughter and Lord Langely has already been forgotten and never need be mentioned again," she said arrogantly, her heart beating rapidly and faint beads of perspiration appearing on her pale brow.
"It was all a mistake," Susan added, looking at the floor rather than at anyone else in the parlor.
"Then the issue is settled. Susan, we are leaving," Lady Markston announced, heading for the door.
"Excuse me, Lady Markston?" Henry said casually.
"Yes?" she replied, stopping at the large, carved door.
"I'm sure no one wants to forget the incident that happened more than Lady Susan, but you have forgotten that more than one servant in this household witnessed the… event. I cannot promise you that they have not already discussed it outside of this house," Henry said calmly.
Lady Markston paled a bit, but decided that she'd best stay on the offensive. "Are your servants so lax that you can't control their wagging tongues?"
Harriet clenched her hands in her lap in obvious anger. "Lady Markston, our servants are not slaves. If you wished to keep this issue a secret, you should have said something when we found your daughter in bed with Cousin Aubrey. Since you didn't make any sort of request, we cannot guarantee that news of this incident will not follow you to London."
"Posh! No one will believe it, in any case. And you'll support our story, won't you, Lord Langely?" Lady Markston said, her beady eyes boring into Aubrey.
A lazy smile crossed Aubrey's handsome features. "Actually, Lady Markston, I plan on placing a bet at White's on the day Lady Susan is going to bear my child."
"What?" Lady Markston shrieked, clutching her breast. "You told me nothing happened, you lying jade of a daughter!" she practically yelled, her eyes bulging out of her head.
"Mother, nothing happened," Susan said, giving Aubrey a look that could kill.
"So, Lady Markston, I'll be visiting your family once the Twelfth Night festivities have ended so we can discuss Susan's marriage settlement. Is that acceptable to you?" Aubrey asked cordially, as if he were discussing a dinner invitation.
"Yes, after the holiday," Lady Markston managed to mutter as Susan helped her out of the parlor.
Aubrey turned to the rest of the room and smiled. "I am known as a gambler of some repute. Do you think my tactic worked?" he asked with a smile.
Henry chuckled. "Undoubtedly. But do you really want to spend your life leg-shackled to Lady Susan? She does seem to be a termagant at times."
"Once Lady Susan gets accustomed to being my wife, I'm sure we'll manage to get on. She did appear in my bed, if you recall," Aubrey added with a slight wink.
"Actually, I'm sure she was expecting Nigel, but that isn't the point, is it?" Harriet asked, walking toward the door.
"No, it isn't. So offer me congratulations, since I'm going to be caught in the parson's mousetrap," Aubrey observed with a grin, completely oblivious to the look of sorrow that had settled onto Emily's pale features.
A dark cloud of doom followed Emily about the Ashton house like a shadow, casting a somber spell on the rest of the party. Harriet, Emily's closest friend, tried to cajole Emily out of her blue devils, but to no avail. Finally, after a disastrous dinner the evening that Nigel and Lady Markston left, Emily decided that the only solution was to spend some time alone, away from the rest of the family, to think about the situation.
She had been shut in her bedroom for two days, getting daily visits from Harriet and Henry, as well as a short visit from Aubrey. None of it helped to cheer her mood, but she tried to make a good show of it.
Eliza, her abigail, was working on a small piece of needlework when, late in the afternoon, someone knocked on her door.
"Shall I see who it is, Miss Emily?" Eliza asked, lines of worry furrowed into her youthful face.
"Yes. Tell them I don't wish to be disturbed," Emily answered, pulling the bedcovers up to her chin.
Eliza crossed the spacious bedroom and opened the oak door, only to find Victoria, clad in a beautiful blue velvet dress, standing there with Wellington beside her.
"May I please come in and talk to Aunt Emily?" Victoria asked, her deep blue eyes large and pleading.
"I'm sorry, dear, but your Aunt Emily isn't receiving any visitors," Eliza said gently.
"Please," Victoria implored. "I have something ever so important to tell her. Please."
"Let me ask her, all right?" Eliza replied, and partially closed the door. Turning to Emily, she asked, "Miss Emily, Lady Harriet's daughter is here, and claims that she has something important to tell you. Do you wish to speak with her?"
Emily frowned and sat up in bed. "Yes, I'll see her."
Eliza returned to the door and opened it fully. "Miss Emily will see you now."
Victoria and Wellington walked into the room quietly, as if they were visiting a relation who had taken ill. Which was rather appropriate, since Emily was quite heartsick.
Emily smiled weakly at Victoria and said, "Eliza, bring the chair from the escritoire over so Victoria can sit next to the bed."
As Victoria got settled and Wellington curled up obediently at her feet, she asked curiously, "Where is Duke?"
"Duke is in the kitchen with Cook. You see, she isn't trained for the house yet and shouldn't be up here until we can be sure she won't have an accident," Emily explained patiently.
"Oh. Why are you mad at Uncle Nigel?"
Emily grinned slightly. She will most certainly have to learn to mind her tongue before she comes out, she thought, but replied, "Well, I suppose it's because he took something that belonged to me."
Victoria nodded sagely. "The mermaid pendant."
Surprised, Emily nodded in reply. "Yes, the mermaid my grandfather bought me."
Victoria leaned forward and almost whispered, "Can I tell you a secret?"
Emily finally smiled. Victoria was the most amusing visitor she had entertained. "Yes, of course you can."
Glancing around the room suspiciously, Victoria said, "Before Christmas, I got out of bed when I shouldn't have, and was looking for Wellington. I heard someone in the library and stood at the door and listened."
"You know you shouldn't eavesdrop, Victoria. That isn't right."
Victoria looked at the floor, her face turning pink. "I know. But I didn't tell anyone what I heard, since Miss Turner said it was wrong to tattle."
"Miss Turner is absolutely correct—it is wrong to tattle," she admonished, secretly dying of curiosity.
Victoria squirmed in her chair. "Would it be all right to tattle if the person you were tattling on wasn't here to get in trouble?"
"If what you were saying wouldn't harm them, I suppose it would be
all right," Emily replied, her curiosity getting the better of her common sense.
"Aunt Emily, Lady Susan was the one who took your mermaid. She was telling someone about it in the library. She said the only reason Uncle Nigel was here was because he wanted to get the mermaid from you. She said she was going to steal it from you and give it to him so that he could go home instead of spending the holiday with us," Victoria said in a rush, a look of relief on her face.
Emily's jaw dropped open. "Are you sure, Victoria? Lady Susan took the pendant?"
"Honest, Aunt Emily. I was afraid I'd get punished for tattling—that's why I didn't tell anyone. Uncle Nigel didn't take your mermaid."
As Emily pondered that amazing fact, Eliza had moved to the foot of the bed. "Miss Emily?"
"Yes, Eliza?"
"I have something to tell you, too. The day the pendant was returned, Lord Stratford's valet told me that someone wanted to speak with me in the kitchen. But when I went to find out who it was, no one knew what he was talking about. Then I went back to your room and the pendant was there. I think Lord Stratford's man put it back—that's why he sent me to the kitchen," Eliza finished.
Emily's mind was in a whirl. "Why would Lord Stratford give me the pendant back? It doesn't make any sense."
"Aunt Emily, Uncle Nigel wouldn't keep something that doesn't belong to him," Victoria stated innocently.
"Victoria, sometimes adults don't always act like ladies and gentlemen," Emily said calmly, her mind still in a whirl.
"Not Uncle Nigel. He isn't like that."
Emily stared at the wall, her mind still trying to cope with the tidbits of gossip that had been brought to her attention.
"Uncle Nigel came to say good-bye to me before he left. And he told me a story," Victoria announced, a strange gleam in her blue eyes.
"Really?" Emily replied, not really paying much attention to Victoria.
"He told me a story about a puppy he found when he was a little older them me. He said that when he found the puppy, he was half dead, because someone shot him. So Uncle Nigel took him to the doctor, and they made the puppy all better. Except that for the longest time, the puppy was afraid of him, because he remembered the man that shot him. But, after a real long time, the puppy became his friend. Uncle Nigel said people are like that, too, sometimes," Victoria finished.
Emily's Christmas Wish Page 19
