Authors: Rachel Francis
“It is a firm suggestion to a stubborn young lady.
Besides it would hurt your mother to hear you stayed for her.”
“Yes, Papa,” said Emily.
She would not challenge him if he expressly wished it.
He’d given her much independence as a daughter.
“May I go, Papa?” asked Genevieve.
“The invitation expressly states that everyone is invited, with pardons for Mrs. Worthing’s well-being.”
Genevieve smiled, her joy warming the hearts of her family.
“Does it say if Emily should come ready to hear an offer?” said Bridget.
“Bridget Worthing, don’t be ridiculous!” Emily said, too loudly for the table.
“If you two do not stop quarreling over Mr. Wingrave, I shall have your pocket money for the week.
Must I bend to childish consequences?
Or do my daughters possess enough presence of mind to behave in accordance with their age?” said Mr. Worthing.
They bowed their heads in submission.
“Good.
I have business out of doors today.
Genevieve, to Ms. Pierce when you are finished with breakfast.
Girls, tell your mother about our invitation and do not trouble her by carrying on your argument in her bedroom.”
Mr. Worthing pushed his chair in and left.
The sisters finished breakfast, each giving Genevieve a kiss on the forehead before taking to the stairs.
“Why are you being so strange about Mr. Wingrave?” inquired Bridget.
“I’m not,” said Emily.
Bridget stepped in her way and faced her sister.
She required a better answer, this time without humor.
“If you seriously desire an answer that is not for your own amusement, let us talk of this in our room instead of here in the hall where everyone is privy to the discussion,” Emily hissed through her teeth.
“Now, what is different about this man?
I have teased you countless times before, and I’ve never garnered this much reaction,” said Bridget when Emily had closed the door.
With a heavy heart and an even heavier sigh, Emily took a seat on their vanity stool.
“Most men are easily dissuaded, but even I cannot doubt Mr. Wingrave has an unusual regard for me.
The escalation of this situation, if he is encouraged, can only mean embarrassment for both our families.”
“Why must it mean embarrassment?
Do you have no feeling for him whatsoever?”
“My feelings are unimportant.
I will not allow myself to enter into a situation like marriage,” said Emily.
“You mean, you are serious about your assertions?
About never marrying?”
“Why should I marry?
Why should I pledge to bow to a man?”
Bridget stared open-mouthed.
“What kind of man would you choose that would make you bow?
I do not see it in Mr. Wingrave.”
“What about Mama?” said Emily, “I cannot leave while she is ill.”
Bridget paced in upset.
“You must know Mama may never get well,” she whispered.
“I won’t leave you all here while I set up a house of my own.
Genevieve needs a mother, I can at least play at that until she gets older.”
Emily and Bridget allowed the discussion to trail off, neither sure of what path could be taken.
The view of Reddester from the carriage left nothing to be desired.
Knots of trees and bushes with freshly trimmed paths made up the private grounds of the property, followed by a view of the farms on the horizon that had been in limbo without an owner to oversee the land.
A lake came up beside the road, siphoned off from the Tripton Valley River that cut through the heart of the countryside.
“Mr. Wingrave must get people on those farms or he’ll miss the best of the harvest,” said Mr. Worthing.
Charlton itself had many farms over which he presided.
It made Emily proud to see her father so involved in the day to day work that supported his family, unlike some gentlemen that hired out the difficult work for a penny wage.
It was beneath no one, she decided, to be able to perform the tasks they asked of the people who served them.
Her father’s loyal tenants and constant prosperity had driven off the criticism that came with such a revolutionary viewpoint, but that only relegated it to the mumbles of the arrogant landed behind the doors of their parlors.
“Perhaps he does not know the business of Tripton so well as you do,” said Bridget.
To Emily’s puzzle she added another piece--Mr. Wingrave claimed no profession.
With the state of his hands, he must have been doing something strenuous.
The son of a Lord need not concern himself with hard labor, deepening her suspicions.
“Perhaps,” said Mr. Worthing.
Reddester Hall broke through the trees, crowning an expansive lawn.
The gardens which had been a month earlier in shambles were now free of overgrowth and forming buds, as gardens should in spring.
When the carriage stopped, Emily took a deep breath to prepare for the social onslaught coming forthwith.
Mr. Wingrave appeared on the front walk to greet them.
“Welcome Mr. Worthing, Miss Worthing, Miss Bridget, and Miss Genevieve.
Your son is still away?” said Mr. Wingrave.
“Aye, Peter sends his regrets that he could not conclude his business before tonight.”
“I understand.
Let us join my siblings in the sitting room.”
His smile was no less warm than when he asked Emily to dance for the third time, a sign that time had not made him think better of being attentive to her.
Emily kept her gaze on the floor.
Years ago, when last the Worthings had been inside Reddester, it had been decorated to the taste of old Mrs. Charles who favored a grand style in all things, even to the detriment of elegance.
Whether it was Mr. Wingrave or Mary in charge of the house, Reddester had become a much more beautiful surrounding than Emily remembered.
Simple, quality furnishings echoed around intricate focal points, drawing one’s eye to the character of the house.
“My goodness this place has changed.
Someone has fine taste,” said Mr. Worthing.
“My sister and I both had a hand in it, though I insisted on many things since this is where I intend to stay,” said Mr. Wingrave.
Bridget nudged Emily and gave her a wink.
Emily looked away and pretended to admire the art they passed.
“Mr. Worthing, so good to see you again!” said Mary as they entered the sitting room.
“Thank you, Miss Wingrave.
You look in fine spirits tonight,” he replied.
“How could I not be?
Oh, but where is Mr. Peter?”
“I’ve already accepted his regrets as he’s on business,” said Mr. Wingrave.
“Oh.
Well, I shall get to know the Misses Worthing better then,” said Mary.
“That would be an honor,” said Emily, happy to engage the sister and not the brother.
Miss Morley hung near the sofa, reluctant to join in.
“Miss Worthing!
I’ve heard that I missed your performance at the ball, a great tragedy.
May we entice you to play sometime this evening?” asked Mr. Sheridan.
“If my hosts wish it, I cannot refuse,” she answered.
“I would hear everyone with an inclination play tonight,” said Mary.
“Excellent.
I’ll begin,” said Miss Morley, marching to the pianoforte.
She played softly enough for conversation to continue, so the ladies took seats on the sofa and chairs while the men formed a circle near the fireplace.
Genevieve, nervous about embarrassing her family, stayed near Emily and took her cues.
Bridget and Mary conversed easily, both disposed to friendliness.
Without an objection like Emily’s, it was a mystery why Mary Wingrave had not married.
She had the same good looks as her brother, and a charming personality, yet she must have been over five and twenty if not nearing thirty years old.
When Emily caught up with their chatter, she found herself the subject.
“Emily has been taking care of us while Mama gets well,” said Bridget.
“You are lucky then, to have such a sister,” said Mary.
A flash of sadness stole over her face, then disappeared.
Emily glanced around, but no one else had noticed.
“They praise me in company, at least.
When I’m doing the taking care of you would think I’d asked them to build me a pyramid,” said Emily to good-natured laughter.
“A fair task master, then.
My brother Jonah complains in the same way when I make him practice civility.
He cannot always be hiding in corners waiting for someone to come talk with him,” said Mary, casting a sly look toward the gentlemen.
Jonah took notice of his name and colored most brilliantly.
With trepidation, he approached them as if his feet stuck to the floor with each step.
“Are you making me seem foolish, sister?” he asked with a slight smile.
“Never, dear.
I am proud of you for conquering some of your bashfulness, under my tutelage of course,” Mary said.
“Some, I’m afraid, is unsatisfactory.
One day I would be among people as easily as Elijah,” said Jonah.
“That is hardly fair to yourself.
Elijah had the benefit of being away at… on business,” said Mary.
Mr. Wingrave’s happy countenance fell to a stern glare from across the room, just long enough to register before his face relaxed again.
Mary continued, though visibly anxious, “He had many people to practice with.”
Emily, all too aware of what passed though she could see everyone dismissing it as a slip of the tongue, pointed out her observation, “Are you well, Miss Wingrave?
You seem suddenly dizzy.”
“Oh, I am quite well, thank you.
Just a spell, it’s passed.”
Miss Morley’s song finished to little applause.
“Miss Worthing, may I entice you to take a turn with me in the gardens?” said Mr. Wingrave.
“Oh, indeed!
We should all go.
Elijah has had over twenty men working on them since the ball,” said Mary.
He blushed, his head dropping as Emily took in the meaning of that.
“I would enjoy that,” said Emily, taking his proffered arm.
Freshly-cut greenery and damp, churned earth stirred the garden into a perfumed frenzy as the flora and fauna settled into their new homes.
Owing to their new master, the vines had not been eliminated, but cut back, giving a wild look to the tame sections of delicate flowers.
Walls and trees made a maze of the Reddester gardens, tempting onlookers to believe they might get lost.
The party broke off into twos and threes.
Mr. Wingrave took Emily away from the others as soon as it was polite to do so.
As an excuse to lean away from him and because she longed to, Emily reached out and let her palm glide against one of the vines, bits of ornate stone peeking out from underneath.
The silky leaves gave no resistance.
Emily drew her hand back only when the wall ended in an archway.
“I did not know that gardens were such a priority to you, Mr. Wingrave,” she said.
“I will confess to wanting them suitable for our dinner tonight,” he said.
“You have proven to be a conscientious neighbor.”
Amused with his obvious concealment of goodness knows what after he had promised to speak honestly, Emily was at ease.
“Hopefully I can be more so over the years.”
She felt the double-edged meaning of his statement and wisely kept quiet.
Even if Mr. Wingrave was comfortable claiming familiarity with her, she could not build esteem knowing he silenced his own family on his past.
“You are thinking deeply, Miss Worthing.
Can I trouble you to let me know the subject?”
“In truth?” he nodded, “You.”
“What an answer to be so tacitly given!
What pray tell, do you think of me?” he said.
“Though I am honest, I shall not concede all my thoughts, Mr. Wingrave, so do not expect full disclosure.
I think you are a man of interesting talents and knowledge.
One might wonder where you came upon those things,” said Emily.
Mr. Wingrave thought while Emily held her breath, waiting for answers to her worrisome query.
“Men of character seek out growth.
With the resources at my disposal, you cannot imagine I had a lack of opportunity,” he said.
A vague, unfulfilling response.
Emily resolved not to press him or volunteer more conversation.
“You are frustrated?
You wish to know what school I attended?
How I spent my time?
Are those qualifications as important as the result you see before you?” he said with a touch of heat.
“No.
I always seek to fill the gaps in my knowledge.
If all we took was the present, we would never learn from the past,” said Emily.
“I see.
Then let me hold up my promise in telling you that I wish you to know eventually.
But not yet.”
Emily colored at his devastatingly hope-inducing answer.
Her feelings were getting away from her in his presence.