Authors: Rachel Francis
“Don’t say it.
Please.
Let it be understood.
No broken promises.
Friends forever?” said Emily.
“Forever,” he whispered, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.
She blushed and he lost his composure, for a moment showing every wretched feeling he hid under a tormented smile.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.
I can keep my principles now with no lapse in judgement.
Old Miss Worthing, they’ll call me,” she said.
Mr. Wingrave shuddered with the understanding that she would have said yes to any question he asked her.
“Let us go back, before the rumors start again,” he said.
“I imagine now that there will always be rumors, Mr. Wingrave.”
“Eli, when we are alone.”
“Elijah,” said Emily.
Mr. Wingrave savored the word.
“A bittersweet day,” he said.
They strolled back inside, arms linked, eyes adoring each other.
She bid him farewell to stave off suspicion and censure, and found her friends.
They watched one another across the room, never going long between glances.
Emily and Bridget talked with Mary Wingrave of the Tripton dress shop when Jude Annesley made a reappearance.
“Miss Worthing, Miss Bridget, Mary,” he greeted them.
Miss Wingrave flinched in pain.
“How can you speak to me so…” Mary mumbled.
“Our acquaintance is long, Mary.
I’ve the right to use your name.”
Mr. Wingrave started across the room, held up by dancers.
“Mr. Jude Annesley, this is a gentleman’s house.
We would all prefer if you would act in accordance with the behavior expected here,” Emily reprimanded.
Her stern tone, so far from the girl he had cornered earlier startled him into offense.
Jude Annesley advanced on her, counting on his closeness to embarrass Emily.
His breath, thick with sweet wine, could be felt on her cheeks.
“Who are you but a rich daughter for the taking?
Silence your objections in my presence!”
Several people nearby became aware of what transpired between Miss Worthing and Mr. Jude.
She refused to back down, though being so near him made her ill.
“No sir, I will not!
You have shamed yourself by approaching us this way,” said Emily.
“I do not feel shame, a useless emotion!”
“Shame would suit you much better than open deception!
She who cannot see through the camouflage of a snake shall be bitten!”
Jude Annesley raised a hand to strike her, and with all the courage of an innocent never before harmed, Emily offered up her cheek such that the entire room would see the reality of the man before them.
Mary looked on the bravery with eyes and heart split open.
Just into the swing, not softened by any guilt or second thoughts, Jude’s arm was caught, by none other than Mr. Worthing.
The rush of noise, curses from Jude and anyone he happened to strike in his attempt to get away, shrieks of fear from ladies who’d never thought someone could be so violent, and exclamations of disbelief, all collapsed into Emily’s ears causing a distortion of sound and movement.
All was slow and loud.
Mr. Worthing and Edward Annesley manhandled Jude outside and threw him down the front steps.
From where he was, Mr. Wingrave admired the woman that could not be his bride.
He had not reached her in time, and she had not lost heart.
Their eyes met, and each feeling of respect and admiration passed between them, an admission of love where there could be none.
Mary cried, sobs choked with misery, and Emily folded her into the safe enclosure of an embrace.
“Shh, now he’s gone.
Abominably coarse man,” said Emily.
Mary cried harder.
“Miss Wingrave?
Miss Wingrave?” said Peter, coming to aid her somehow.
“A moment, Peter.
True ladies do not wish to be pitied,” said Emily.
Mary hugged her and allowed herself to be taken to the powder room.
Peter paced outside despite numerous assurances from Bridget that Emily was the one who had almost been struck.
Mr. Wingrave shortly took after him and between the two, Bridget looked for wear on the rug.
“Thank you, Miss Worthing.
Your family is truly a safe haven,” said Mary.
She had flooded two handkerchiefs before speaking.
“You are welcome, Miss Wingrave.
I could not stand by and allow him to continue so without argument, though I did not expect my statements to work that well on his temper,” said Emily.
“If one plays along with him, Jude is harmless.
Once his discrepancies are pointed out, the facade crumbles and the serpent is revealed,” said Mary.
“I hope he slithers all the way to another town and never bothers us again,” said Emily.
“Don’t we all,” Mary muttered, “I am well enough.
Let us go.”
Mary and Emily came out to several sighs of relief.
“Miss Wingrave, can I fetch you a glass of punch?” asked Peter.
“No, thank you, I do wish to dance,” said Mary.
“It would be my honor,” he said.
Bridget coyly slipped out of the sitting room, leaving Emily and Mr. Wingrave alone.
“That was brave,” he said.
“Don’t be ridiculous.
Coming from one who has seen battle, it is a disingenuous compliment,” said Emily.
“In battle one expects to be hurt.
You did not volunteer for the infantry, you simply showed courage when it was needed.”
Emily smiled.
“And thank you, for tending to my sister.
She gives meanness more weight than it is due.”
“You’re welcome.”
Mr. Wingrave paused for an awkward second.
“May I have this dance?”
“You may have every dance,” said Emily.
He smiled brilliantly and kept her to himself for the rest of the night.
“Tonight is proof, Elijah.
You love her,” said Mary once everyone else had gone to bed that night.
She sat at the table in his room, beseeching Mr. Wingrave with her wide eyes.
“I do,” he said.
“I understand why.
She is exactly like you, caring and headstrong.
Were it within my power, I’d give you my blessing.
But this proves to me that action must be taken.
I am inviting the Worthing sisters to Landhilton for a fortnight.
While we are gone, I demand that you wrest yourself from her affection.
Whatever it takes to hide your heart away,” said Mary.
“If the Worthings knew, would it be so bad?” Mr. Wingrave asked.
“Too many people know already.
I will not let this ruin our family.”
Elijah clenched his fists and slammed them into his bedroom door.
“This is my life, Mary.
You expect me to live it without joy?”
“I owe you a great deal, brother.
I know.
This is not a selfish act, even if it was caused by one.
If people knew the truth, it would disgrace us.
There would be no redemption.”
“You do not believe in redemption through love?
Through atonement?
What about Peter?”
“I plan to use our time apart in the same way, to harden my heart if I can.
It murders my soul to know we will be a source of hurt for the Worthings,” said Mary.
She wept thinking of Peter Worthing and his smiles while Elijah paced around his room, knocking over chairs and cursing.
The following Tuesday, a card party was called together at Reddester Hall.
“Are you certain, my dear?” asked Mr. Worthing.
“Yes, I need to get out of this house and feel like a human being again,” said Mrs. Worthing.
“It is only to Reddester, Papa,” said Bridget.
“That’s far enough until I may be assured of her strength,” Mr. Worthing replied.
“Oh Roland, don’t be cross.
I want to enjoy this evening,” said Mrs. Worthing.
Emily conspicuously stayed silent during this exchange, lost in her own quandaries.
She helped her mother dress with the same taciturn aura hanging over her head.
“Emily, something is bothering you,” said Mrs. Worthing.
“It’s nothing, Mama,” said Emily, pressing her lips into a line.
“I may have been in bed for two years, Emily, but I am still your mother.
Your expressions are as plain to me as words on a page.”
Emily slumped onto the bed.
“I know.
Promise me your confidence and I shall tell you some of what ails me.”
“You have my word.”
“The Wingraves are keeping secrets essential to their make-up from all of their acquaintances, even our family who has bonded closely with them.
I know one of them, and it does not detract at all from Mr. Wingrave, if anything it raises him in my opinion.
He is a Fortcaptain, retired from the border,” said Emily.
Mrs. Worthing sat back in astonishment and blinked rapidly.
“How did you come by this knowledge?”
“A Batteran troubled my assistance in locating Captain Wingrave just after arriving in town.
This is what made me take ill and leave my sisters with Mr. Annesley.”
“You have kept this to yourself this long?
Why?” asked Mrs. Worthing.
“He does not want society in general to know because he doesn’t want to remember it himself.
Captain Wingrave served for eight years, I can only imagine he witnessed terrible losses.”
Mrs. Worthing nodded.
“I can understand that feeling on his part, and yet perhaps he should remember.
Such things cannot be forgotten, only locked away where they fester.
You say this is one secret, there are more?”
“Yes, but I have not discovered them.
It has come to a point where he chooses the secrets over…” Emily left off, blushing.
“Over you?”
Emily frowned.
“I know not how I can earn his trust if I have not already.”
“Perhaps he needs more time in your confidence,” said Mrs. Worthing.
Emily shook her head, not in disagreement, but in confusion.
“I have given him reason to believe I would abandon guaranteed independence and trust him with my person and the fortune that accompanies me,” said Emily.
“That is quite a sacrifice on your part.
Let time work, my dear.
Secrets are like pebbles in a sugar bowl, they sift out naturally.”
Trusting to her mother’s advice, Emily looked forward to being at Reddester again.
When her family filed out of the carriage and she laid eyes on Mr. Wingrave, Emily focused on light-hearted banter.
They broke into groups of four, with three sitting out.
Genevieve, nervous again, declined to play until she was better acquainted with the rules, while Mr. Wingrave persuaded Emily to look over new music just arrived from Dunbarrow.
“These pieces are interesting.
I should like to know how they sound,” said Emily.
“Then you should sit and we will muddle through them together,” said Mr. Wingrave, patting the bench beside him.
She obeyed his request, taking the higher octaves.
“Miss Worthing, it would please me if you did not leave my side tonight,” said Mr. Wingrave once the music covered their conversation.
“This is your house, sir.
I can scarcely go where you cannot follow,” said Emily, smiling.
“Good,” he said.
They finished the first song, and on impulse Emily played a short burst of notes, then challenged Mr. Wingrave with a grin. He countered with his own set of mellow tones.
She increased the complexity, gaining the attention of their audience.
Mr. Wingrave met her, and gave a wink.
Back and forth they played to laughter at the speed, and impressed sighs at the rhythms they battled with.
Finally Mr. Wingrave’s fingers stumbled over the keys and Emily achieved victory, though to her it seemed pyrrhic, for when he did falter an expression loud with misery shown on his face, quickly collected back into the good humor of the room.
The others went back to their card game as Mr. Wingrave breathed heavily to regain composure.
“Mr. Wingrave?
Do you want to play another?” said Emily.
He nodded and chose a slower, easier tune.
“Forgive me, I have a competitive spirit,” he said.
“You are doing it again, sir.
It was not a spirit of any sort.
Is something the matter?”