Authors: Rachel Francis
“If you are not here, then no one, for my eyes will still be blinded from your radiance.”
“If I am so bright, it is a wonder you can see me at all.”
“I have been warned, Miss Worthing, that you are not friendly to strangers.
I don’t take any offense.”
“That is well, no offense was meant,” said Emily.
“I am offended that you are yet unmarried.
Have the men in Tripton gone mad?” said Mr. Jude.
“That is plain talk for one you just met, Mr. Jude.
Sanity keeps the men in Tripton safe from embarrassment, as most know I would refuse any offer of marriage.”
He smiled on her with the manners of a predator.
“In truth, a woman that marries does give up her self in the process.
I would have a woman that thinks better of her own value than that.”
“I am surprised to hear a man say that, Mr. Jude.”
“Don’t be.
I am a progressive thinker.
I would ask though, Miss Worthing, if you think it unsupportable for a woman to fall in love.
There is nothing more beautiful than a woman in love, especially one who may also defend her independence.”
Confusion filtered through Emily’s thoughts, detracting from her attention.
Who on earth was this man?
“Love is common to all people, women included.”
“So what would a woman do with love if marriage was her bane?”
“I…
I… do not know.”
The heat of the dance and Mr. Jude’s continual use of his handsome features and sensual logic to engage her left Emily reeling with disorientation.
She wished to see Mr. Wingrave, his strong and steady presence could solve this for her.
“Miss Emily, will you accompany me on the balcony?” he asked when the dance was over.
Wanting nothing more than to be away from him, Emily did not even catch his liberal use of her name.
“Forgive me, I promised Anne we would finish our conversation.”
“Another time, then,” he said, before bending to kiss her hand.
She spluttered with offense as he turned to other pursuits.
Anger replaced all of the mystique he shrouded himself in.
Emily marched over to Anne and related their discourse immediately.
“How forward!
Why did you allow him to kiss your hand?” said Anne, “I would have been tempted to upbraid him.”
“I could not react, he had said so much that was unsolicited.
I want to know where he got his information.
He seems to know more about me than one meeting could confer.”
She spotted him, using his charms on Victoria again as Jonah watched on.
“Oh!
I think I have a handle on it now,” said Emily, gesturing for Anne to look.
Anne gasped.
“That girl.
I always knew she would fall for the first slick-tongued lizard that crossed her path.
She is so buried in romantic ideas because of Mama.
Trust me, Emily, she will say nothing of you after tonight,” promised Anne.
“Poor Jonah.
He is heartbroken,” said Emily.
She excused herself and made her way to him.
“Mr. Jonah!
How handsome you look this evening,” said Emily.
He started and colored.
“Thank you, Miss Worthing.”
“Have you danced at all tonight?”
“No, Miss.
I cannot endeavor to ask.”
“There might be a young lady, looking for a partner, just in front of you.
Once a lady knows a man can ask, she will be more willing to say yes,” said Emily.
He smiled at her hints.
“Thank you, Miss Worthing.
Would you honor me with a dance?”
“That sounds perfect,” Emily answered.
She took great pains in strutting past Victoria with her new partner.
Even Mr. Jude could not keep her from noticing that Jonah stood up with another woman.
Emily winked at both of them.
“All right, Mr. Jonah.
We have her watching.
If ever you were light on your feet, make it tonight,” whispered Emily.
He nodded and gave the performance she asked of him.
After he struggled with not falling over in nerves, Jonah relaxed and laughed as they swirled in a fast-paced jig.
“Thank you, Miss Worthing.
I see why my brother dances with you so often,” he said as he led her to where Anne had been lecturing her sister.
“You are very welcome,” said Emily, clearing her throat to throttle any noise of surprise.
“Hello, Mr. Jonah,” said Anne.
“Good evening, Miss Barham.
May I steal your sister from you for a dance?
If she is willing?” inquired Jonah.
Victoria nodded her acquiescence, joyful to find that he still noticed her.
“That will teach her to let vanity spoil purity,” said Anne, “She almost cried to see you two dance together.
Foolish girl.”
“Foolish,” said Emily.
She carefully avoided Mr. Jude for the rest of the night, taking great pleasure in seeing Jonah and Victoria dance several more times.
The next day, Mr. Wingrave besieged Emily on horseback as she took her exercise around Charlton, before it was suitable for anyone to call.
“Good morning, Mr. Wingrave.
Have you business with Papa?” Emily greeted him.
A black shadow rested on his brow, pushing his face into the darkest of states.
He landed on the ground with a thud.
“No, I have business with you.”
“How so?” said Emily, offended by his tone.
“You will never dance with that man again,” said Mr. Wingrave.
“Your voice is unfit for talking to me in this manner, sir.
Shall I go to the house and fetch my father?”
Mr. Wingrave cooled his temper.
“Pardon me.
I am pained to hear that you stood up with Jude Annesley last night.
As a friend and as a man, I would advise you to think of him as an escaped convict.”
“That is strong language.
He has wronged you?”
“He has wronged himself and his family more than you will ever know.
Promise me you will not touch him again.”
“I want to know why, before I promise,” said Emily.
“Emily,” he growled, narrowing his eyes at her persistence.
“I will not make a promise in ignorance.”
Mr. Wingrave breathed out.
“I will not betray Edward’s confidence by slandering his brother openly.”
“Then we are at an impasse,” she said.
“You don’t…” he stopped, “I care…
This is of utmost importance.”
“I believe you, but until I am given an explanation, you shall have to trust my judgement,” said Emily.
He looked on her in exasperation.
“You ask everything of me that I cannot give you,” he said before mounting his horse, and riding off toward Reddester Hall.
“Good lord,” said Emily.
“That is most peculiar,” said Bridget.
Emily found her gardening behind the house.
“And he just rode off?
Like that?”
“With the proper encouragement I could believe it was a specter,” said Emily.
“I cannot deny the growing facts, sister, and I fear the estimable Mr. Annesley may at least have a part in it.”
“Who could deny them?
When every time I see the Wingraves I learn of something suspect?
Does Peter have any idea?” said Emily.
“No, I think not.
Mary is much better at hiding whatever troubles them.”
They puzzled about it until dinnertime, and then on into sleep.
Emily received no answers to her many questions for close to a week.
It seemed every time Mr. Wingrave found something upsetting he would not visit them until his temper could bear it.
Peter called on Mary at Reddester, and took Bridget along with him, but Emily would not bother Mr. Wingrave if he was that angry with her.
Instead she took to teaching Genevieve new songs.
“Emily, when I get older, do you think I will find love?” asked Genevieve as they looked over music in the sitting room.
“Goodness, what a question.
What made you ask it?”
“Seeing all of you with someone.
It seems difficult.”
“Peter and Bridget don’t seem to be having any problems, so that makes me think you are referring to myself,” said Emily.
“Well, yes,” said Genevieve.
“When there are other things to consider besides one’s self, love becomes more complex.”
“Do you love him?
Mr. Wingrave?”
A knock at the door made them jump.
Velma introduced the man himself.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Wingrave,” said Emily.
“Good afternoon, Miss Worthing, Miss Genevieve,” said Mr. Wingrave.
“I have to help mother, with my… bonnet,” said Genevieve, smiling at her sister.
Emily glowered at her, but excused her.
“Peter and Bridget are at Reddester.
I am calling to check on your health since you have not accompanied them this week,” he said.
Emily gestured for him to sit.
He chose a seat across from her needlework chair where she picked up the latest project.
“I am in good health, thank you Mr. Wingrave,” said Emily.
She had spent the days between their squabble and the present distancing her feelings from the surface, and it did not escape him.
“I apologize for my behavior when last we met.
I was overcome by hatred and anger.
You did not deserve the retribution you received,” said Mr. Wingrave.
“No, I did not,” said Emily, frowning into her stitches.
“Would you look at me, please?
I cannot read your expression.”
Emily arched her eyebrow and did as she was asked.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Mr. Wingrave, I do not understand you, and I will never understand why you seek my friendship above both our comforts.”
“Don’t be obtuse,” he laughed, “If I were capable of relieving the discomfort which my company brings you, I would.”
“One of the reasons I don’t understand you, demonstrated by yourself just then--cryptic communication,” said Emily.
“You do not want to believe it, the real motivation behind why I come here and invade your peace, so why should I be forthcoming?” said Mr. Wingrave.
“Because you promised.”
“I promised I would speak always honestly, not that I would always speak.”
Emily resumed staring at her needlework.
Mr. Wingrave huffed and moved to a closer chair.
“You are supremely frustrating, Emily Worthing.
Even now you sit with your graceful hands barely plying that needle instead of meeting my eye.
I have watched every sharp look you’ve given me since we met with amusement, at you for not realizing, and at myself for warranting each of them.
I will not be denied your gaze of accusation,” he said.
“You have little say in the matter, Mr. Wingrave.”
He stood and paced in front of her.
“You so effortlessly agonize me!”
“It is without effort or intention.
It seems I can please only one of us,” said Emily.
“Humor me with the constancy of your face turned in the direction of my own,” said Mr. Wingrave.
Emily carefully lifted her eyes to his, unsure of what she would see there.
Streaks of desperation contained the earnest feelings exuding from him.
“There, you see, the confusion I’ve caused is just as much an accusation as any suspicious glance you’ve bestowed on me,” he said.
“If I torture you so, why did you come?” asked Emily, tears forming and sliding down her cheek, devoid of premeditation.
Mr. Wingrave knelt before her chair and wiped at them.
“No, Emily, don’t cry, that is too much for me to bear.
I can stand your confusion, and suspicion, but not your anguish.
You destroy me with every drop.”
She blinked, and dabbed at her eyes until they dried.
Mr. Wingrave stood when he was assured of her composure.
“I must go,” he said.