by Tia Siren
Emily sniffed and wiped her nose. ''I'm sorry, but seeing you like this has been a terrible shock. I've brought some food for you, look.'' Her father peered through his swollen eyes to the bag she was holding. The sight of fresh red apples, and a pot of strawberry jam lifted his spirits.
''So tell me, Emily, what have you been up to? How are Aunt Beatrice and your cousins?''
''Well, I think.''
''You think?''
''I left London, and went to stay with Aunt Prudence in Norwich.''
''But why? My sister has no children for you to socialize with.''
Emily looked at her father's hands. They were black, and some of his nails were lifting off. ''Because a man of cousin James' acquaintance has wronged me in the most terrible way, and I couldn't bear to be anywhere near him.''
''And how are you feeling now?''
Emily wanted to say, devastated, weepy, nauseous and crushed, but didn't want her father to be concerned about her. ''I'm fine. I will never let a man treat me like that ever again. I will never suffer from a broken heart, ever again.''
He patted her hand and looked into her eyes. ''I love you. You are all I've got in the world, and when I get out of here, I'll build us another splendid house to live in, and the best tree house in England.''
Emily nodded and smiled, but the thought that he may not survive long enough crossed her mind, and her smile turned into a frown.
*****
Throughout the winter, Emily visited her father as often as she could from her home in Norwich. Each time, she took fresh fruit in an attempt to prevent him from succumbing to some of the horrible diseases in the prison. Aunt Prudence proved to be an accommodating host and kept Emily amused. It had been a long cold winter, and Emily began to think of London and the new season. She didn't want to see Edward again, but she wasn't going to find a husband in Norwich. She needed to go back to the city and find a man to settle down with before she became too old. Aunt Prudence was loathed to see her go, but understood. Indeed, it was Aunt Prudence who suggested she should go and stay with her sister in law, Mary Coates, who lived in the heart of the city of London.
When Emily arrived, she was pleased to see she was right in the middle of all the action. Mary was married to a banker, and the bankers lived in the city center, in magnificent town houses. Eighteen Jackson Row was just like all the others in the street. A black railing surrounding a small front garden, and a black front door with a window above it and a brass doorknocker in the center.
When Emily arrived for the first time, she was greeted by Christopher Coates, Mary's son. Agreeable, Emily thought as she looked at the tall young man. He was dark, and his eyes told her that he was a kind soul. Over the coming weeks, she became very fond of him, and they began to spend more and more time together.
''He's so handsome,'' Helen said when she came to visit. ''He really is quite the most handsome man I have ever seen. Much more handsome than Edward.''
The sound of the name Edward shocked Emily. She'd thought of him all winter, every day, and for some part of every hour. In the end, she'd forced him out of her mind in a savage attempt at self-preservation. Now he was there again. Helen wasn't correct, Edward was far more handsome than Christopher, but Christopher was adequately handsome. He also had good prospects in the bank which his father ran, and Emily saw a decent future for herself with him.
The British Bankers Association Ball is always on the third Saturday in May, and this year was no exception. Emily, tired by the winter and depressed by her failed relationship with Edward, had decided to wear the green dress which showed off her breasts so well.
Emily was surprised how well Christopher could dance. Much better than Edward. Christopher for his part, didn't take his eyes off Emily for a second that evening. When she moved her breasts jiggled seductively, and he felt himself getting hard on at least three occasions.
''Emily, will you walk with me outside, we can ask Helen to accompany us?'' Emily agreed and as they walked, Helen, who'd learned much about being a chaperon from Emily's previous encounter, stayed a discreet distance behind them. Helen was jealous, Emily always took the most handsome men. Christopher made Helen feel like a silly schoolgirl, and when she looked at him, she felt warmth rising in her belly.
Helen held her hand to her mouth and tried not to scream in frustration when she saw Christopher go down on one knee in front of Emily. When she saw Emily nod, she ran back into the ball.
''Mr. Christopher has asked me to marry him,'' Emily said to Helen upon her return to the ballroom.
''I know, I saw him. And I saw you say yes.''
''Helen, please be happy for me, you should see the grumpy expression on your face.'' But Helen couldn't hide her disappointment.
*****
Emily hadn't wanted to go to the Duke of Marlborough's ball. It held unpleasant memories. It had been at this ball, a year ago, that her life had fallen apart when she'd overheard Edward talking about her in such a despicable way. She was no longer surprised by his behavior on that evening. On several occasions during the current season, young women had told her that she'd had a lucky escape, from him. When she inquired why, all of them told her the same thing. That he'd become a serial womanizer, a rake, who spent no more than two weeks with each of his conquests before moving mercilessly to the next.
Christopher had eventually persuaded her to go because it was the highlight of the season, and because he wanted to be seen with her. She'd been very insistent that she didn't want to go, but he'd called her mean and narrow-minded, so she'd relented.
It was just like the previous year, crowded. Emily turned as many heads as she had done last time, and Christopher was just as proud of her as Edward had been.
When Emily and Christoper danced, she suddenly felt it. It was like a surgeon's lance, piercing the back of her head. As she weaved her way around the other dancers and back to Christopher, the feeling intensified making it difficult for her to concentrate.
When she looked to her left she saw him standing at the edge of the dance floor, his eyes fixed on her and a look of hurt etched across his face. She felt her heart racing and tiny drops of perspiration developing on her upper lip. Her legs felt numb, and she had to stop the dance.
''What's wrong, Emily?'' Christopher asked as he followed her. ''You can't just stop in the middle of a dance.''
''Christopher, I told you I didn't want to come to this ball, for God's sake, leave me alone,'' she said. He stopped and watched as she made her way to the ladies room. He went to join Helen and her group, much to Helen's delight.
When Emily emerged from the comfort of the ladies restroom, Edward was waiting for her. He took hold of her arm and pulled her into a corner where they were relatively free from view.
''Emily, what have you done to me?'' Edward asked.
What have I done to him, what a cheek, she thought. ''I have done nothing to you, Edward. You are a dishonorable man and I treated you as you deserved to be treated.'' Emily felt her heart fluttering and her knees shaking. She could see how crushed he was, and it pained her. She wanted nothing more than to feel his naked body on top of hers, but he had said something terrible, and she could never trust him again.
''Why do you say I am dishonorable, please justify yourself?''
''Justify myself? Justify myself?'' Emily was close to rage. ''It is you who should justify yourself. I heard what you said to those men last year, at this very ball. What you said was cruel and unforgivable. You used me for your own indecent gratification. You will never do that to me again.''
''But Emily you left without speaking to me. You have no idea what went on in that conversation. You jumped to conclusions.''
''Conclusions?'' He stood back from her as she took hold of his jacket and twisted it. ''All I know is what I heard, and nothing could justify what you said, nothing.''
''But Emily, I love you, I have always loved you. I want to be with you.''
''Well you have a strange way of showing it. I
hear you have turned into a womanizer. I believe there isn't a single woman in London who you haven't taken to your bed.''
He was shocked at her accusation. ''That is not true. I have seen some young ladies, but only to help me over the distress of losing you. And it didn't work, I will never get over you.''
''It's too late, Edward,'' she said. Emily wanted to cry, his impassioned pleas had made the river of desire within her flow again, and she yearned to feel him inside her. But she could never trust him again, and her life with Christopher would be much calmer and less fraught.
''Do you deny me because you are with someone?''
''Partly.''
''The man you were dancing with is not worthy of you. Emily, you are intelligent and a free spirit. You have the most amazing sense of humor and you are compassionate. He won't make you happy, he will stifle you in a swamp of domesticity. He's a gray banker, they are all the same.''
Helen must have told him who Christopher was. ''I will soon be his wife. Goodbye, Edward.'' Don't go, kiss him, pull him to you and kiss him, a voice said to her. But her body turned away and took her into the crowd.
*****
Christopher was at the bank, and his mother had gone out to a women's luncheon. Around twelve o'clock there was a loud bang at the door. Emily sat and waited for Rodgers the butler to answer it, but when the person knocked again, she remembered it was his day off, and apart from cook she was alone in the house. She put her sampler down on the sofa and went to the door.
She recognized the man standing in front of her. It was the man with the big nose and exaggerated sideburns that she'd seen at the Duke of Marlborough's ball a year ago. He was the man Edward had first spoken to before he'd spoken so badly of her.
''Miss Emily Lucas?'' he asked. She nodded. ''Splendid. I'm afraid the man I'm with is a very slow walker,'' he said as he pointed down the street.
''Father, father, oh father,'' she said as she bolted out of the door and down the street. He was frail, and she almost knocked him over in her enthusiasm.
''Emily. Oh, it's so good to see you,'' He put his arm around her, and she helped him up the garden step and into the house. She shouted to the cook to bring some tea and sat her father in the most comfortable chair in the drawing room.
''I cannot believe it's you, father.'' His eyes were less swollen than the last time she had seen him, and his lips had recovered but he had lost more weight, and he looked like a bag of bones.
''How did you manage to get out of that terrible place?'' she asked.
''May I introduce myself,'' the other man said. ''I am the Bishop of Denningsborough. Do you know a man called Edward Dirksen?''
''Yes, I do,'' Emily said.
''Well if it weren't for Mr. Dirksen, your father would still be in that horrible place.''
''I don't understand,'' Emily said, looking at her father and then the Bishop.
''Mr. Dirksen is a very active member of a group in the church that looks after the needy.''
''Yes, I know, he mentioned some church group he was involved with.''
''Well, via that organization, Mr. Dirksen has campaigned tirelessly for your father's release.''
''Are you alright?'' her father asked, as Emily's complexion turned white.
''In the prison with your father was a vicar by the name of Peter Wright. He too got into trouble financially, and they ended up in the same cell.'' The Bishop stopped speaking when the cook arrived with the tea. She placed a cup and saucer in front of each of them and the tea pot close to Emily. ''I visited Reverend Wright very often,'' the Bishop continued, ''and in the process got to know your father. It came to my attention via the church organization that Mr. Dirsken was trying to secure your father's release. I met Mr. Dirksen on two occasions. We talked about the best way to go about getting your father and Revered Wright freed.''
Emily was struggling to keep up with developments. Edward had done all this, and he'd never told her, even when they'd spoken at the last ball. Why hadn't he said something?
''During one of my visits, Reverend Wright told me your father had been badly beaten by some men who came to the prison. The same men who had stolen all your father's money, his former accountants.''
Emily looked at her father who nodded.
''Unfortunately, these men also threatened your life, Emily.''
''What?'' Emily gasped. She was about to pour the tea but stopped as her hands began to tremble.
''They told your father that if he talked to the police about them, they would harm you.'' The Bishop stroked his sideburns and fiddled with a large ring on his little finger. ''Those same men turned up at the Duke of Marlborough's ball last year. Luckily I was able to warn Mr. Dirksen, and he threw them off your track by telling them that you weren't Emily Lucas.''
''He told them I was just a woman from a local village and that he barely knew me,'' Emily said, completing the Bishop's story. ''I need to go out now. Will you come with me?'' she asked.
''To where,'' her father asked.
''To Cobham Hall.''
*****
Emily jumped out of the coach before it had come to a halt and ran to the door. The door knocker shook on its base as she hammered with it. The butler looked startled when Emily ran past him without saying anything. ''Edward, Edward,'' she shouted frantically running from room to room.
''Mr. Edward is outside in the garden,'' the butler pointed out.
She ran to the back door and out into the garden. Again she shouted his name. Edward stopped reading the newspaper and looked across the terrace. When he saw Emily, he jumped to his feet. ''I'm here.''
''Oh, Edward,'' she shouted as she ran to him. ''Edward, I'm so sorry, I have been terrible to you. Please forgive me. You must take me back. I don't want to live without you.'' She reached him and flung her arms around his neck.
''Calm yourself, Emily,'' he said.
''But how can I be calm after what I have done to you. I am a terrible person.''
''No, you are not. You are an adorable woman who I love very much, but thought I'd lost.''
''Will you ever forgive me? The Bishop and my father have told me how hard you have been working to secure my father's release. I will be forever in your debt.''
''The last time I spoke to you, you were engaged to another man,'' he reminded her.
''I want you, not him. The engagements off, as of this moment.''
He kissed her. ''In that case, why not get engaged to me instead?''
''Yes, yes, oh yes please,'' Emily said, ecstatically.
''Mr. Dirksen, thank you for all you have done to secure my release, I will be forever in your debt,'' Emily's father said when he and the Bishop had caught up.
''Not at all, sir. I am pleased you are now a free man.''
''But how exactly did you secure his release?'' Emily said still slightly confused. ''My father was convicted by a court, how did you get the decision reversed?''
''That was easy. You remember your father built a large extension onto this house?'' Emily nodded. ''I still have all the paperwork including a letter from Mr. Benjamin Harvie the accountant that your father employed at the time,'' Edward spoke slowly and deliberately. ''In the letter, Mr. Harvie informed me that I should pay the invoice for the work done into a different bank account than the one I had originally been given. As the letter was from a firm of professional accountants working on behalf of your father, I duly did as he requested.''
''And?'' Emily interrupted eagerly.
''It was a very large amount, I believe it was the largest job your father had ever done.'' Emily's father nodded. ''When I heard what had happened to your father, I went to the authorities and told them how much I had paid and asked them to investigate.'' Edward looked to see if Emily was still following. She was nodding keenly so he continued. ''They found that the account was in the name of Mr. Harvie himself, not his company. They also had no record of Mr. Harvie ever having declared this amount, and many other amounts which had flowed into his acco
unt, to the taxman. Mr. Harvie was arrested for tax evasion two days ago, and your father duly released.''
Emily sighed with relief. ''I have just one more question,'' she said. ''You didn't know about my father's plight until I told you, is that correct?'' Edward nodded. ''Then in effect, you did this for me.''
''I suppose so. But don't tell your father,'' he said with a grin.
''I love you, Edward Dirksen.'' Emily said.
*****
THE END
A Rake’s Revenge – A Regency Romance
''Andrew, I am sick and tired of your lies,'' Oscar Hammond said as his son listened to him for the umpteenth time. ''Your mother and I have discussed your behavior, and we have come to the conclusion that the constant stream of women, who seem to enter and leave your life with alarming regularity, is having a negative influence on your children's behavior.'' One of Oscar’s beloved Springer Spaniels jumped up and tried to sit on Andrew's lap.
The two gentlemen were sitting in Oscar's study in Thorpe Hall, which had been in the Hammond family for seven hundred years since King John had bestowed it on Angred Hammond for slaughtering a group of men who had robbed his mail coach.
Oscar, at sixty-three, was a man of considerable wealth. He owned three thousand acres and had more than two thousand tenants in various villages scattered around the area. Tall and gray haired, he was a solemn man totally devoid of humor.
His son, Andrew, was twenty-nine and the proud father of three children. Agnes, John, and Sarah. Nine, six and four respectively.
Oscar and his wife had tried for many years to have children, and when Andrew was born, they'd been thrilled that, at last, they had an heir to the family fortune. Femke Hammond, the third daughter of a Dutch aristocrat, had pleased her husband by having two more children, Maurice, and Jacqueline.
''Our family has a reputation, and you seem to be doing you best to destroy it,'' Oscar added.
I'm only trying to find a wife, you despicable man, Andrew thought. Georgina, his lovely wife, had died while giving birth to Sarah and her loss had utterly destroyed him. Left to bring up three young children he had been out of his depth. After two years, he'd decided to look for a new wife, but he'd found it impossible to find someone as beautiful and talented as Georgina. In his quest, he'd invited many women to his house, all of whom proved to be less than suitable. Unable to find a wife to match Georgina, the process had turned Andrew into something of a sexual predator, with little regard for women and their feelings. Now he'd abandoned all hope of finding a new bride and was playing the field unashamedly.
