Authors: Rachel Francis
“I wish you well if you must go.
I empathize and hope that I might also regain dignity one day,” said Emily.
“Emily, you condone this?” gasped Mrs. Worthing.
Emily spared her a glance of concern over her health, but did not mask the truth.
“I cannot stop him.
No one can if he feels the way I do,” said Emily.
She nodded at Peter and retreated into herself, allowing the family reaction to play out, waiting to hear what Papa had to say.
“You are a grown man, Peter.
If this is what needs to be done for you to feel like one, then I cannot but support you,” said Mr. Worthing.
All protested but Emily.
“Peter, this is running away,” said Bridget.
“I will come back.
The story of my failure will be an old yarn by then,” said Peter.
“But how do you know you’ll come back?” cried Genevieve.
“You have so little faith in your elder brother!
I am not mad, or witless.
I am attempting to make something positive out of this debacle.
It is a risk to go to the border, but so is walking out the front door.
My life must have meaning again,” said Peter.
His sincere plea for their understanding quieted the room, though his mother and youngest sisters did not eat.
Bridget stared at Emily, wondering that she said nothing.
“You do not think this is folly?” Bridget asked her.
“We could not forever stay as we are, all of us here at Charlton, in sheltered safety.
Eventually, our peace had to be broken,” said Emily.
“And the Wingraves have broken it!” said Bridget.
A flare of anger welled up in Emily, not opposing her sister but in kindred spirit.
She hadn’t the energy for bitterness yet, so the thought was dismissed.
Genevieve wept into her hand.
“Such is love.
Sometimes a homemaker, sometimes a peace-breaker.
Let it go, Bridget.
You have your happiness,” said Emily.
Furious, Bridget threw her napkin into the porridge and glared at Emily all the way out of the breakfast room.
“Ashcroft, Bailey, Jakes, Milbourne, Smith, Teetering, and… Worthing?”
Captain Wingrave looked up from his list of new arrivals to the line of men before him.
Plain as blood on pure white snow, Peter Worthing stood at the end, a crushing blow to the Fortcaptain.
His face did not move with the roiling emotions underneath, a practiced mask brought out solely for his station in the military.
Captain Wingrave cleared his throat to deliver the welcoming speech.
“This is Fort Jennings.
I am her Captain.
I am your Captain.
Discipline is not an optional characteristic in my officers.
No matter your background, you will treat the men under you as if your life is in their hands, because it is.
This fort has been held many times through the blood of commoners and nobles alike.
There is no money and no social hierarchy at Fort Jennings, only the rank given to you.
“I have included with your uniforms a manual which I expect you to read and memorize before exiting the new quarters assigned to you, which Swordofficer Barnes will escort you to presently.
Swordtenant Worthing, stay behind,” said Capt. Wingrave.
Swordofficer Barnes led the rest of them out of the office while Peter remained at attention.
Capt. Wingrave’s office gave a utilitarian impression.
Bookshelves against the walls and a desk in the middle of the room made up the chief furnishings.
There were no chairs for visitors, more than likely the Captain would want them to stand in respect.
The only luxury, rare among officers, was a diminutive piano in the corner.
Capt. Wingrave faced him with a sigh.
“At ease.
Why are you here, Worthing?” he inquired.
Peter relaxed and looked his new Captain in the eye.
“Fort Jennings is my assigned post,” said Peter.
“Why are you here on the border, Peter?
Instead of in Tripton?”
“To serve.”
Peter’s jaw locked in irritation.
What did it matter why he was there?
“To escape?” inquired Capt. Wingrave.
“It’s a popular destination for those wishing to escape,” replied Peter with no polite restraint.
Capt. Wingrave gritted his teeth.
“Your personal feelings aside, can you follow my orders impartially?”
“If you have doubts, I would be happy to transfer,” said Peter.
“I am sir,” said Capt. Wingrave, “I will teach you all there is to know about being an officer, but if you cannot leave your feelings about me at home and address me properly, I will make sure you are not only transferred, but deemed unfit for duty.”
“Did you leave your feelings at home, sir?” said Peter.
“That’s better.
Loathe me, hate me, but respect my command here.
You are dismissed.
Barnes will be back shortly to collect you,” said Capt. Wingrave.
Elijah sat down at his desk and perused papers left for him.
Peter did not move.
“Was there something else, Swtnt. Worthing?”
“She is destroyed, sir,” said Peter.
He turned on his heel and marched out.
Those four words of torture did more to agonize Elijah than any device of war yet invented.
He did not fault Peter for defending Emily, he’d done so many times for Mary, and hearing of Emily’s fate only confirmed what he had already suspected from the snippets of news he received.
In his mail tray, there was a letter from Reddester, dated five days prior, which he now opened with dread.
“Dear Elijah,
It is done.
Our suffering and the suffering we’ve lent the Worthings is complete.
I refused an offer from Peter two days ago.
My heart is broken, and I cannot write much more.
I have seen nothing of the Worthings since.
Edward is my sole source of information and he only sees the ladies.
They are distressed, but refuse to speak of their brother, or Emily, who does not come down from her room, even for mealtimes.
I am sorry we ever came to Tripton.
Love,
Mary.”
She must not have been informed that Peter had commissioned.
Elijah debated sending her the news himself, or waiting until she asked for confirmation.
Through his pain, he decided to wait.
It would be news in Tripton by now no matter how tight-lipped the Worthing sisters chose to be.
Emily…
He had crushed the quality of hers that he admired most—her fiery spirit.
If he wrote to her, to beg for her well-being, it would defeat the purpose of his journey to Fort Jennings.
Emily could not forget Elijah if he constantly reminded her that he was out there, pining for her.
Capt. Wingrave would need to handle Peter delicately to keep his own thoughts unclouded by what he had to leave behind.
This, he resolved to.
A knock at the door roused Emily from her reading.
“Who is it?” she said.
“Velma, miss.
Mr. Worthing requires your presence in his study,” replied the maid.
Emily trudged to the door.
“Thank you, Velma.”
She moved quickly, like a ghost down the stairs and through the library, avoiding Bridget and her mother.
Mr. Worthing called her in immediately.
“Come in, my dear.
Have a seat,” he said.
Mr. Worthing set aside a ledger he’d been double-checking.
Emily did as requested, feeling more comfortable around her father than the women of the house.
He seemed to know when to leave a subject alone much better than her sisters and mother, who wanted or needed to partake in some sort of mourning when it came to the loss of Peter and the Wingraves.
“As of today, my title is official.
I am Lord Worthing of Charlton,” he said.
“That is good news, Papa.
You will always be the noblest of men in my eyes,” said Emily.
Lord Worthing smiled.
“I want you to understand the ramifications of it, on your end.
People will now expect you to give up your idea of never marrying, if you haven’t already, in the name of society.
Some men may court you, and your sisters, merely to increase their own wealth.
We’re a quiet people, the Worthings, and we’ve never drawn much attention to the fortune we’ve acquired.
Make no mistake that we are of equal consequence to even the Annesleys of Dunbarrow,” said Lord Worthing.
Emily gaped, the meaning behind his words striking a blow.
“But…
How is that possible?
They are known throughout Endland, and we are a small harvest family,” said Emily.
“I wanted you and your siblings to grow up as humbly as we could manage.
I feel it has grown your character to appreciate your advantages in the light of what we pay others to do for us on a daily basis.
Your mother and I were always of the opinion that arrogance of position has ruined a great many men and women.
However, my elevation makes our circumstance much more obvious to the world at large.
I cannot disguise us entirely from the vultures of high society.
This means, that though our home and practices will not change very much, if you venture to Dunbarrow or any other center of social commerce, do not be surprised if you are treated with deference and made the prey of false friends,” said Lord Worthing.
“I am all astonishment, dear Papa.
I had always known we were fortunate, but never that we equalled a family like the Annesleys.
You’ve done a marvelous job of raising your children, and I agree that riches often accompany an attitude of importance.
I applaud that you’ve given us the correct kind of importance, that many lives depend on our good choices, instead of that many lives should be grateful for our benevolence,” said Emily.
“You take it in stride, that is well.
I have worked diligently to be sure that just such an opinion would come from the mouths of my offspring one day.
Now, to difficult business.
I will not pry in your affairs, but I do want you to consider that if it should come to pass that you are made an offer of marriage the mantle of responsibility does not cease.
I would be most pleased with Capt. Wingrave as a son-in-law.
He is wise beyond his years.
Should he have left Tripton for good, I beseech you to search out another as wise and as humble, if you are ever inclined to accept.”
“Papa, I--“
“I know, you do not wish to speak of it.
I am simply making my wishes known to you,” said Lord Worthing.
Emily gave him a grateful smile.
“Thank you, Papa.”
“Such a serious mood has taken over my house, and I will not be the one to stoke more gravity.
I have to say, I miss my son, for all his playful tricks, he is the best heir I could have produced.
He feels the honor of his station without letting it weigh down his interactions.
I do hope Peter does not take a liking to the military.
There are too many females of intensity around me now, with nothing to balance it out.”
“Lady Worthing summons you to the drawing room, miss.”
“Thank you very much, Velma,” said Emily.
She dreaded the happy news.
Mama would not have summoned her for anything less than Bridget’s engagement.
Emily could not rise to be jealous, but it did hurt her to think of what might have been with Elijah Wingrave.
He could have knelt and asked her to follow him to hell and back; she would have said yes.
Yet he did not ask.
Capt. Wingrave had chosen his family’s mystery, perhaps their honor.
Emily mused at the shaky illusion of their honor.
If it was tainted by some past event, then it was tainted, no matter who knew of it.
The Wingraves’ false principle of protecting themselves from those who loved them was not just or good.
It was a delay, a delay only.
“Secrets surface like pebbles in the sugar bowl,” whispered Emily, “Like gems in the sand…”