“What did you hear?” Emmaline asked.
Stoddard paused, as if he was torn whether to divulge the information. “It’s possible you won’t like it,” he warned.
“Now you’ve really got me curious,” she said. “What is it?”
Stoddard shook his head. “It’s just gossip.”
“Maybe,” Emmaline said. “But if it helps us figure out what’s upsetting my parents, then any little bit helps.”
“I suppose,” he said. “But remember, this is just what I’ve heard. It could be entirely wrong.”
“Come on!” Emmaline urged. She couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. “Out with it!”
Stoddard sighed. “Apparently, your father has gotten himself tied up in some scandal or another. Something about trouble with his mistress.”
Emmaline enthusiasm escaped her in a single rush. Her heart choked and her toes froze where she stood. “A mistress?” The words felt wrong in her mouth even as she said them.
“I guess he tried to turn her away when he sent for you and your mother,” Stoddard explained, “and she’s been trying to cause trouble for him ever since.”
Emmaline was dumbstruck. What was Stoddard going on about?
“That’s not true,” she said. “My father wouldn’t keep a mistress. He loves my mother.”
“I’m not saying he doesn’t,” Stoddard said. “But it’s not an uncommon practice here among the meritocracy to take a mistress—even with a family. I can’t tell you the number of times Harper sought out companionship the year or so after he returned from war. I knew about it only because I was on call to monitor his mechanism. And there is no lack of willing women in this city either, I can assure you.”
Emmaline stiffened and Stoddard cringed as he realized how that sounded.
“Not that I know from experience,” he assured her. “I just spend enough time around the meritocracy to know how things work.” He placed the device on a shelf and lifted some sort of miniature engine from the floor and placed it on the bench.
Emmaline’s head swam as images of her father parading around the city with another woman intruded on her world. Had he lied all this time? She’d always thought he hadn’t sent for her and her mother sooner because she wasn’t yet of age, but was that true? Or was it because he was it because of another woman? Another life?
The image of the woman in the parlor the night of the ball came to her mind, and she sensed the reason for her father’s reaction when she’d been caught speaking with her. Was that what it was? Was she the mistress Stoddard was talking about?
No, Emmaline insisted, her mind revolting against the idea. There was no mistress. Her father wouldn’t have taken one. He loved his family.
“You’re wrong,” she said, her voice slow and deliberate. “My father wouldn’t do that.”
“I’m only passing on what I heard,” Stoddard defended.
“Then your source is mistaken,” Emmaline insisted. “My father is a good man. He works tirelessly for our family. He loves us.”
“I’m sure he does,” Stoddard said. “I’m not trying to upset you, Emmaline, but that’s the way things are around here. Especially in the meritocracy. It’s better to be aware of it than to ignore it. The Spire is another world. You’re only just being introduced into it but there are unwritten codes of conduct that keep everything turning—and not all of it is virtuous. I’m not saying that makes it right, but you should be aware of it if your father really is preparing you for…”
He let the thought go, focusing again on the device.
Emmaline didn’t know what to do. She was shaken. Her hands clenched the fabric of her dress tightly as Stoddard’s accusation assaulted her paradigm. Who was he to accuse her father of infidelity? Some of her earliest memories were of her father and how he’d care for her and her mother. So what if a few years had gone by, her father wouldn’t have changed like that. He was a stubborn man. He had principles.
Stoddard was wrong.
“My father isn’t just some gentleman on the Spire,” Emmaline insisted. She rose from her seat as she said it, glaring at him. “And I don’t appreciate you talking about him like he is, even if you’re just repeating what you’ve heard. Perhaps it’s you who is keeping poor company.”
Stoddard’s expression sank, and he focused hard at the device in hand. “If you say so,” he said.
Emmaline felt herself growing hot. She wanted him to look at her. To agree that he was being ridiculous. To deny his accusation.
Stoddard twisted a spring inside a chamber until it came loose and laid it in a dish.
“I don’t believe you,” Emmaline said again, turning in a huff and storming out of the shop.
Everything is wonderful! It has been so good to have our family together under one roof again. It’s as though we picked up just where we left off. And Emmaline has taken to city life so well. She’s already attracted quite the entourage of admirers.
—Excerpt from Mary’s Letter to her Sister
CHAPTER THIRTY
A Broken Facade
THAT EVENING EMMALINE COULD THINK of little else. Everything blurred past as Stoddard’s accusation against her father repeated in her head. She didn’t want to believe him, but if there was no truth to what he said then why was she having such a difficult time dismissing it? She felt trapped in sudden uncertainty, and in the space of an afternoon it had nearly drowned her.
She passed dinner in silence, mirroring the quiet which already existed between her parents. Watching them closely, it was as though she were seeing each of them with new eyes. In every motion they made she found new meaning. The way they focused too long on their plates, smiled too thinly at each other’s comments, or sighed too long at seemingly nothing—all of it revealed the absolute minimum effort they made to keep up appearances that everything was fine.
Her mother pursed her lips. Her father tapped his thumb. And all the while Emmaline watched and asked herself the same question.
Why?
When dinner was finished Emmaline excused herself to her room early, explaining she was feeling ill. She hoped things would improve after a night’s rest—that the unpleasantness would lift. However, when she awoke the next morning, she felt no better at all. And it was clear at breakfast that her parents were still not speaking.
Again the unwelcome thought pressed upon her mind, and no matter how she tried to dismiss it she could not escape its incessant nagging. Had Stoddard told the truth? Was there in fact something about her father he wasn’t telling her? Did her mother know?
Emmaline had to believe she did, but then how long did they intend to kept it a secret from her?
The questions overwhelmed her, and she felt weak as they trampled her spirit. After breakfast she retired again to her room, but she found little peace alone. Pacing over the rug, she crossed a patch of sunlight which shone through the window. The agitation of her mind sent shivers through her body, but the light did warm her some. Each time she stepped into it she felt its pleasing touch graze her hands and cheeks, but then it was gone with another step and she felt chilled again.
She could not shake the images of her father and the woman she’d met in the parlor. Suspicion pitted in her stomach and clung stubbornly to its wall. There was no eluding it. Its germ had taken root in her.
Only after hours of torment did Emmaline decide to take the only course of action available to her. If she couldn’t ignore the accusation, then she could at least hear it contradicted. She knew the question would be unwelcome whenever it was asked, particularly by her father. She’d considered asking Anne about it, but that seemed unwise. She might inadvertently fuel the gossip if it wasn’t true, and she wasn’t sure how informed Anne would be if Emmaline herself had gone so long without suspecting her father. Her uncle was always willing to talk, but she wasn’t sure she could be the one to tell him such horrible news if he didn’t already know. It would be as jarring to him as it had been to her.
Emmaline d
ecided on her mother. If there was anyone in a position to deny the accusation it would be her. And if she didn’t know about it, then she could help Emmaline confront her father and settle it once and for all.
Resolved, Emmaline abandoned her little spot of warmth, leaving her room and making her way around the balcony hallway to the other side of the stairwell where her parents’ rooms were located. Swallowing hard, she rapped softly on her mother’s door and waited, rocking on her feet as she listened.
Nothing could be heard at first from the other side, but soon she heard a chair move and footsteps approaching the door. The latch turned, and Mary opened the door.
“Emmaline?” she asked clutching a book to her chest and checking the hall for anyone else. When it was clear Emmaline was alone she looked at her with concern. “What is it? Did you need something?”
“Does father have a mistress?” Emmaline couldn’t hold it back. She’d thought so long on the subject that her tongue betrayed her before her mind had had time to catch up.
Her mother stiffened visibly, the forwardness of the question surprising her as much as it had Emmaline. “What on earth inspired you to ask something like that?” she demanded.
“Is it true?” Emmaline insisted, not to be deterred. “I heard he does and I have to know.”
“Where did you hear such a thing?”
“Is it?”
Mary frowned, her eyes were locked with Emmaline’s, but Emmaline could see how they wanted to break away. Compassion would have compelled her to withdraw before, but Emmaline wouldn’t. Not now. She’d come so far.
Finally, her mother’s expression softened, and she turned away. “Come in,” she invited. Retreating into the room, Emmaline followed her through to a small windowed alcove which opened up into a private balcony overlooking the gardens.
Setting down the book she carried on a small table, Mary sat down in her chair. Emmaline remained standing.
“Who put this idea into your head?” Mary asked.
“Does it matter?” Emmaline asked. “All I need to know right now is whether father has been lying to us. Does he have a mistress?”
Emmaline could see the pained expression in her mother’s face, and the struggle in her eyes. It did nothing to ease her own spirits for what she sensed was coming.
“It’s how things are done here,” her mother said weakly.
Emmaline felt her head reel and her heart constrict. Stepping back, she clutched her chest. It was as though the walls had crumbled around her—that the very ground she stood upon was opening up to receive her. She sat down in the other empty seat and tried to take in deep breaths.
“And you knew?” she asked.
“Not for a while,” Mary said. “I didn’t know for certain until we arrived in Hatteras, though I realize now your uncle was trying to prepare me for the news long before our trip.”
“He knows too?”
“Of course he knew. He’s been your father’s closest confidant for years—ever since your father arrived in Hatteras. He was lonely,” she said, looking down at her clenched hands. “It is hard to be away from one’s family for so long.”
“You’re defending him?” Emmaline couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Were these her mother’s words? Her heart beat even faster in her chest and she grasped her head in her hands. “I can’t believe you’re justifying what he’s done.”
“He’s my husband,” Mary said.
“Exactly!” Emmaline cried. “How can you be okay with it?”
Her mother pursed her lips seriously. “Your father provides us with everything we have. If it wasn’t for him, then we’d never have been able to come to Hatteras. Or have this home. Or raise you with such opportunity. Perhaps you were too young to remember but we’ve not always had it so well,” she explained. “Your father has sacrificed a great deal to ensure we never have it so hard again.”
“But he’s betrayed us!”
Emmaline watched her mother’s expression fall. Her jaw tightened, and her shoulders shifted backwards. Emmaline recognized the motion immediately. It was the same motion her governess had taught her growing up. It was a language Emmaline was all too versed in.
Her mother was steeling herself against the pain.
When she looked up at Emmaline, her eyes were softer. “Yes,” she said. “Your father has betrayed us.”
“So how can you ignore it?”
“Because just as your father has responsibilities to provide for this family so too do we have a responsibility to support him,” she said with deliberation, “for better or for worse. Your father has taken great risks, and as you can tell he’s not always made the best decisions. If word has reached your ears about his mistress, then it’s almost certainly circulating throughout the Spire. There will be a scandal, and in a while it will pass. These things happen. The best thing we can do is gather ourselves and prepare to—”
Mary put a hand to her lips as a sob welled up in her throat. Her efforts to put on a brave face were crumbling. She turned away, and Emmaline could see just how devastating this blow was for her. Kneeling down in front of her, Emmaline rested her head in her mother’s lap and hugged her legs. She felt her mother’s hand stroke her hair as she gave way to her tears. She shook under the weight of them and Emmaline realized that up until now her mother might not have had anyone to confide in.
They sat together like that for a while. There had always been some distance between Emmaline and her mother but it comforted her to share such an experience. Emmaline had always considered her governess to be a dearer relation than anyone before, but there in that little alcove she felt truly connected to her mother again. Their suffering was to be kept secret from the world, yet for this moment they confided it in one another.
“Who is she?” Emmaline asked, her own cheeks wet.
“Her name is Margarete,” Mary said. It was evident in her voice how much she disliked repeating it. “A working girl from a lower part of the city.”
“Does he love her?”
Mary clutched her tighter, but didn’t say anything.
From where she lay, Emmaline’s eyes fell on the book on the table beside them. It was a sturdy book, with a simple leather-bound cover. The edges were worn from use and its pages rested loosely on one another. It wasn’t a book like she saw in her father’s library. Then a thought dawned on her and she sat up suddenly.
“Is that father’s diary?” she asked.
Mary looked at it with sorrow. “Yes,” she said.
“You’ve read it?”
“I wanted to know for myself,” she said.
“And?”
Mary shook a little as she clenched her hands. “I’m afraid it’s left me more conflicted than before.”
“So what will happen?” Emmaline asked.
“There will be a scandal,” Mary explained. “When it will come to light is uncertain, but your father assures me we’ll be alright. Things like this blow over easy enough. It’s unfortunate the timing was so poor.”
“Why do you say that?” Emmaline asked. She couldn’t think of news like this ever coming easier than it did.
“With your coming out into society,” Mary explained. “This is sure complicate things with other families. You’ve made a good impression so far from what we’ve gathered, particularly with Edmond and his family.” She smiled desperately. “We were going to wait to tell you this, but your father has entertained discussions with Farley of a future proposal.”
Emmaline was taken aback, and it took a second for her to realize what her mother was talking about. She herself was still stuck on the news of her father. “Marriage?” she asked. At a moment like this her mother was still concerned with introducing her into society.
Mary nodded.
“That’s the last thing on my mind right now,” Emmaline said.
“For your sake, you should consider it. Now more than ever,” she urged. She took Emmaline’s hands in her own. “Your father has the power to lift o
r destroy this family, but you can find your own way to weather whatever consequences come from his actions. If you were to marry well, then we’d have allies on the Spire as eager to see our family succeed as we are. Do you understand?”
Emmaline eyed her suspiciously. “You want me to pass our family’s shame onto someone else’s family?” Emmaline went to pull her hands away, but her mother held them tightly.
“I’m asking you to do what is needed to we’re okay,” Mary begged. “No matter what your father does.”
“But what’s to say I don’t marry someone just like him?” Emmaline asked.
“Edmond belongs to a respected family,” Mary explained. “He’s a fine young man with good prospects.”
Emmaline wasn’t having it. Her faith in everything was shaken, and rightly so. If her father was able to do something so reprehensible then what did that say of all the other men she knew? They were all capable of lies. They could all be as guilty.
And Edmond wasn’t even worth the gamble.
“I won’t do it,” she said.
“Why not?” her mother asked, surprised by the sudden declaration.
“Because Edmond is a brute and a peacock, and I think he couldn’t care less about me.”
“What other options do we have?” her mother asked. “Farley said himself that he’s open to talks of a union. If he wills it Edmond is certain to agree.”
“And how many years will pass before I learn of his mistress?” Emmaline said.
“When news of your father gets out how many men do you think will line up to take care of you then? At this moment the city believes your father to be one of the rising stars among the meritocracy, but that could change in a moment. A union with you carries social advantage. We must take advantage of it or—.”
“Or what?” Emmaline asked. “You’re asking me to marry someone who’s just as likely to hurt me!”
“There are no guarantees in life,” her mother strained. “And we’re all required to sacrificing something along the way. Such is the cost of privilege. Some manage to rise while others fall if they’re willing to do what is necessary.”
Daughters of Aether Page 19
