Emmy nodded sullenly. “Then perhaps I should simply tell Papa what has happened in the hopes that Mr Smith’s life can be spared. I would vouch for him. Maybe, just maybe, Papa would be lenient if he knew that Mr Smith saved me on the night of the ball, after my foolish endeavours?”
“You know he would not,” Nora replied evenly, a warm smile upon her lips. She had cheered since Hugh’s departure back to Fallow Manor, and Emmy was pleased to see the refreshed colour in her sister’s cheeks and the brightness returning to her beautiful, dark eyes.
“Then I must attend the duel tomorrow and hope that I can persuade the pair of them to be lenient with one another instead,” said Emmy, determinedly.
Nora’s eyes went wide in horror. “Emmy, I forbid it!” she whispered sharply. “You cannot possibly attend a duel. It would be unseemly, and Ambrose would not wish you to be there.”
“I cannot stand by and do nothing,” Emmy murmured miserably. “I put them in the way of harm, and I shall remove them from its treacherous path.”
Nora shook her head. “You cannot, Emmy!” she insisted. “I shall speak with Ambrose, should I find myself with such an opportunity, but you must not attend this duel yourself. If anyone were to find you there… well, I cannot even begin to mention the repercussions that would fall upon you. No, Emmy, you must not go. Promise me you will not?”
Emmy nodded slowly, though she knew the next words that came out of her mouth would be a lie. “If you do not wish it of me, I shall not go. I shall be sorry not to stand in the way of an upset I have caused, but I shall obey your wishes.”
An expression of relief washed over Nora’s face at the sound of those dishonest words, causing a twist of guilt to grip Emmy’s stomach. Still, it was too late. In her mind, she had already made a promise to poor Mr Smith to see to it that he came to no harm.
The more she thought about it, the more foolish she felt for the way she had reacted to his dismissal of her.
True, he had spoken to her coarsely, but she had forced him to speak that way. She knew that now. There were things he had not wished to say, and she had threatened his entire existence at the hermitage for the sake of knowing a mystery that she had no right to know. Indeed, she realised now that she had behaved like a child, and she wished to do whatever it took to make amends.
One obstacle remained, however. The ring.
No matter how intently she thought upon the subject, she could not settle on a suitable explanation for how he came to have it. And so, she had to believe that there had been a misunderstanding of some description. It could very well be someone else’s ring, or he may well have found it out in the woods somewhere and not known it to be Albion’s.
There were many possibilities, but if Mr Smith would not be forthcoming with the truth then the only conclusion was the duel that had been set for the next day.
As much as she longed for a different outcome, she knew there was not one, not whilst Mr Smith continued to keep tight-lipped about the ring’s origins.
Regardless, she would not let him go through it alone. Mr Smith had come to her aid in a time of great need, and she was only too willing to return the favour.
Emmy was ever-conscious of Nora’s eyes upon her the following day. All through the morning and into the afternoon, Nora was always by her side, never allowing Emmy to be alone in case she slipped out of the house.
“Would you care to take a turn around the gardens?” Nora asked, just as Emmy was on her way upstairs to change into something warmer.
Emmy smiled sweetly. “Of course, sister. I would be delighted to,” she replied, trying to suppress the anxiety she felt. Sunset was a few hours away, and she could not figure out how she was going to evade her sister to reach the woods behind Whitecroft Abbey.
There was little conversation as they wandered, though it was clear their thoughts were resting on the same event. Ambrose had not visited the house that day, so there had been no opportunity for Nora to appeal to his kinder sensibilities. Emmy longed to make the walk over to Whitecroft Abbey there and then, to see if Ambrose was home, but she knew Nora would not allow it. Things were different for Nora; as a married woman, there was more she could do within the realm of what was proper.
“Nora, do you think we might walk over to the Wyndhams’ to see if Ambrose is at home?” Emmy asked, keeping her eyes downcast.
Nora glanced at Emmy. “I do not think that would be wise. I know you must be anxious, but I do not believe it would help to speak with Ambrose. Had he arrived at the house, I would have endeavoured to make him see the fruitlessness in this course of action, but I do not believe it wise to seek him out.”
“Surely, we must try?” Emmy pressed in earnest.
Nora gave a heavy sigh. “Very well, I shall walk over to the Wyndham house, but I would ask that you stay here. Please, do not run away whilst I am gone. If you do so, you shall force my hand…” She trailed off, a sorrowful look in her eyes.
“Whatever do you mean?” Emma asked.
“I shall have to tell Papa,” Nora explained, though she could not meet Emmy’s gaze. “I do not mean to be so cruel, but I would not see your reputation in tatters.”
The very notion of her father being informed struck fear into the heart of Emmy. As much as she hated the idea of a duel, she knew it would keep Lord Nightingale out of proceedings.
Mr Smith had already said that he was only permitted to stay at the hermitage thanks to the kindness of Lord Nightingale, but if Nora told him of what had been going on Emmy was certain it would not end well for Mr Smith’s future.
“You would not,” Emmy whispered.
“You would leave me no choice, sister,” Nora replied softly.
Emmy could not tell how sincere her sister was, though Nora was not prone to deceit. It was not like her to say something she didn’t mean, but Emmy had to hope there was a way she could elude Nora without an alarm being raised.
“Very well. I understand.” Emmy nodded.
With that, Nora departed. Emmy stood at the end of the summer gardens, watching her sister make the slow walk down to the woods that bordered the Davenham grounds.
She waited there long after her sister had disappeared, hoping to see her small figure emerge on the other side, headed in the direction of Whitecroft Abbey.
It stood at the top of the opposite hill, its windows blank and ominous. There hadn’t been any happiness within its walls since Albion’s death, with Lady Wyndham keeping a single flame alight in the window that had once belonged to Albion’s chambers. It burned day and night, though the rest of the house seemed gloomy and steeped in darkness. Lady Wyndham barely left the property, with Sir Wyndham only venturing out on necessary errands. The youngest Wyndham son, Archibald, could be seen wandering the grounds in quiet solitude sometimes, though Ambrose occasionally joined him. It was an unhappy household—any observant eye could see that.
“What are you doing out here by yourself, little sister?” Francis’ voice asked, disturbing Emmy’s private reverie.
She turned, surprised. “Francis? I thought you had gone to town?”
Francis shook his head, his mass of brown curls moving with it. “I thought against it.”
Emmy tried to keep the suspicion from her face, but she couldn’t help feeling there was something amiss in Francis’ sudden presence. It wasn’t like him to miss out on a trip to town. Had Nora told him to watch over her, should she need to leave the house? Somehow, it felt as though that was what was happening.
“Well, I think I shall retire before dinner. There is a new novel I am desperate to read,” she said, moving to go inside.
“Perhaps you could read it in the library? There are a few papers I wish to read—we could keep one another company?” he suggested casually, his eyes gazing out toward the hill of Whitecroft Abbey.
Emmy smiled. “Of course, Francis. Some company would be wonderful,” she replied, keeping her face as blank as possible. At every turn, she feared she might give herself away.
The truth was, she planned to retire to bed early that night, allowing time for Nora to come and find her in her bed before sneaking out undetected. To do so, she knew she had to play against everyone’s expectations that she was about to run off. This way, they would not suspect any foul play later on that evening. Besides, it would be a while before Nora returned from Whitecroft Abbey.
Perhaps there would be no duel after all if Nora could make Ambrose see sense.
And so, Emmy played the part of the dutiful daughter and sister, sitting with Francis in the library, her eyes flitting up toward the clock every so often. She could feel her brother’s eyes on her, but she refused to show she was perturbed by it.
An hour later, Nora discovered them in the library, a perplexed expression on her beautiful face. At the sight of her, Francis made himself scarce, allowing Emmy and her sister to have the room to themselves.
It confirmed Emmy’s suspicions that Nora had said something to Francis to make him keep an eye on her, but she found herself unable to harbour any annoyance. She was too anxious to know the conclusion of Nora’s visit with Ambrose.
“What did he say?” Emmy asked as soon as Francis was out of the room. Nora had barely even taken her seat.
“I am afraid I am the bearer of troubling news,” she replied with a sigh. “I went to the house, but Ambrose was not at home. I said I would wait, and so I did. Lady Wyndham would not see me, nor would Sir Wyndham, though Archibald offered a warm welcome. At long last, Ambrose returned, and I spoke with him for what seemed like hours. I implored him to rethink the situation, but he would not—he explained that it was a matter of principle from which he could not retreat. Again, I implored him, but he is staunch in his resolve,” she explained sorrowfully.
“Will he be forgiving in the way he shoots?” Emmy asked, pleading.
Nora shook her head. “I requested he be kinder in his actions, but he could not give me an answer in response. He simply said that he would judge the situation as he found it. That was all he could promise me.”
“But you were gone so long, Nora. Surely, there was more to your discussion?” Emmy pressed, feeling the desperation pulse through her veins.
A rosy flush brightened Nora’s pale cheeks as her gaze dropped to the floor. “There was nothing I could say to make him change his mind. I assure you, I did all I could, but he would not be swayed,” she said firmly.
“The majority of my time at the Abbey was spent waiting for Ambrose,” she added, though she still refused to look Emmy in the eyes.
Emmy thought it a little strange, but said nothing, her mind too preoccupied by the thought of the duel, which was set to happen a few hours from that moment.
They sat in the library, though they spoke little. When they did muster up some conversation, it was vague and stilted, their shared anxiety palpable in the room.
A short while later, they were given a reprieve as Sally, the maid, called them in to dinner.
All through dinner, Emmy was polite and warm, engaging in family conversation though her heart was not in it. Just as the sky was beginning to darken she made her excuses, hurrying off to her chambers where she slipped swiftly beneath the sheets. She lay there, pulling the covers up around her chin, her face turned toward the far wall, waiting for the familiar sound of the door creaking open. Nora had flashed her a particularly suspicious look just before she departed, and she knew it was imminent.
It came twenty minutes later.
“Emmy, are you asleep?” Nora’s voice asked.
Emmy said nothing, willing her sister to leave before it was too late. Sunset could not be far off.
Once enough time had passed, Emmy jumped out of bed, fully clothed, and headed toward the bedroom door.
Opening it gently, she peered out into the dimly lit hallway. Below, she could hear the welcoming chatter of her family in the drawing room, but it did not entice her as it usually would.
After waiting a moment or two, she hurried to the top of the stairs before scurrying down, careful not to be seen as she went.
After slipping out of the front door undetected, she made her way toward the summer gardens, figuring it would give her the most cover from being seen by anyone looking out of the house windows. However, as she reached the end of the gardens, she saw a shadowed figure rushing across the grass, going in the direction of the woods at the bottom of the lawn.
It was not yet sundown, and the world was still faintly lit, but she could not make out the shape or face of the shrouded individual hurrying along the same path that Emmy wished to follow.
Curious, she took off after the figure. Darting behind the camouflage of a thick tree trunk, she watched the figure cross the bridge over the babbling river before following suit. She did not catch up with the hurrying person until they were halfway up the hill leading to Whitecroft Abbey.
“Nora?” she gasped, causing the shrouded figure to turn sharply.
“Emmy! What in heaven’s name are you doing out here?” Nora asked, the surprise evident on her face. “When I get back to the house, I shall be having stern words with Francis,” she added, muttering under her breath.
Evidently, Nora’s plan to prevent Emmy from leaving the house had failed under the less-than-watchful eye of their eldest brother.
Emmy had heard Francis’ unmistakeable voice from the sanctity of the drawing room but only now realised that he was likely not supposed to be there. For once, Emmy was glad of her brother’s easily distracted mind.
“I would imagine I am here for the same reason as you, sister,” Emmy said, not unkindly.
Nora sighed. “You should not be here, Emmy.”
“Nor should you.” Emmy grinned, prompting a faint smile from her sister’s face.
“I presume I cannot change your mind?”
Emmy shook her head. “You cannot, unless you are willing to return to the house with me?”
A lengthy pause stretched between the two sisters as Emmy waited for Nora’s response. She could see on her elder sister’s face that it was not an option; there was a determination on Nora’s face that Emmy had not seen before.
“I cannot leave Ambrose to do this alone,” Nora murmured at last. “They have forgone the option of seconds to assist them, but I will not leave those fools to it. I could never live with myself if something were to happen and they should be left to deal with the consequences in solitude.”
Emmy nodded. “Nor could I,” she said, though her thoughts were not resting on Ambrose.
Without another word, the two sisters moved off. Behind them, the dying sun began to strike its last rays upwards, the sky shot through with bolts of vivid crimson.
Chapter Ten
The duel
Chapter 10
Mr Smith lingered in the woods behind Whitecroft Abbey, his hands trembling. It had been a long time since he had picked up a gun, and he did not relish the idea of holding one in his hand again.
Ambrose Wyndham had yet to arrive, but he knew it was imminent.
There was no going back now.
In the day that had passed since the duel had been set he had thought of seeking out Ambrose to tell him about the ring, but something had held him back.
It was not a secret he felt he had the right to tell, given the misery that still settled over the melancholy walls of Whitecroft Abbey. For once, he’d felt as though everything in his life was in order, and he was finally on the road to recovery and true penance, but that had been blown sky-high.
The only way to continue on that path, without anyone who might see him cast out becoming involved, was to go ahead with the duel.
Ambrose had promised it would only remain between the two of them, and Ambrose didn’t seem like the kind of gentleman who would go back on a promise. Besides, regardless of the outcome, the matter would be settled.
Just then, there was a rustle of undergrowth as a figure approached.
There was still enough light to see by, but the sky was growing dimme
r by the minute. It would make aiming difficult, Mr Smith knew, but they weren’t the worst conditions he’d encountered. A full moon was due that night, too, should the sun go down before they could get to the heart of the duel.
“Mr Smith?” a voice called. It startled him—he had been expecting the deep tones of Ambrose, but this voice was altogether more feminine.
“Miss Emmeline?” he replied, a shiver of fear going through him.
If he was going to die tonight, she was the last person he wanted to see it. Witnessing death first-hand changed a person irrevocably. To his mind, Miss Emmeline was the sweetest, purest creature he had ever met, and he didn’t want anything to change that.
“My sister and I are both here in the hope that we can persuade yourself and Mr Wyndham to call this duel off,” Emmy explained, stepping forward so he could see her better.
Lady of a Recluse Earl Page 8
