Authors: Rachel Francis
“Papa, can’t I stay with Genevieve?
She, Mama, and I can have a pleasant time here,” said Emily.
She would rather hear her mother talk of the man than see him in the flesh.
Catching her father alone at his writing desk had been tricky enough with Bridget’s constant surveillance.
“Emily Worthing, what has gotten into you?
If it is Mr. Wingrave that troubles you, I must put forth that you may be fooling yourself.
I’ve never seen you hide, fear is not in your nature.
What has changed?” said Mr. Worthing.
With his wife indisposed, he’d become more aware of the inner workings of the females he lived with, adapting to the dual role he had to fill.
“I feel as if everyone is staring at me because of the liberties he’s taken.
It is a point of drama to others, the maiden sworn not to marry and the dashing suitor, clashing on a field of battling wants.
I am being pushed into a storybook, and expected to conform to the blushing bride one expects at the end of a tale.”
“My goodness girl.
May I never accuse you of not thinking things through.
If Mr. Wingrave falls in love with you, I shall be the first to bless the match.
He’s a sensible, fortunate man,” said Mr. Worthing.
“You would give me away?” she said.
Tears formed at the corners of Emily’s eyes, compound stress catching up with her.
“Don’t be preposterous.
I’ve seen you together, and if you don’t fall in love with him equally I shall eat my hat.”
Emily gasped in fury and fled the room filled with Mr. Worthing’s laughter.
“Be ready for the party, Emily!
I’m taking bids on your hand tonight!”
Bridget came from the parlor, and, having overheard her father, followed Emily outside.
“You know he jests,” said Bridget.
“Oh yes, everyone jests,” said Emily.
“If you are set on refusing Mr. Wingrave, then why does this matter?
Where is my sister that faced any social danger with a brave smile and a sure remark on anyone’s sense that disagreed?”
“I don’t know,” said Emily.
Glad to be out of sight, she stomped along a path through Charlton proper until her anger subsided.
“You are right, Bridget.
I have let this dampen my spirits too long.”
“Aye, a great soggy mess you’ve turned in to.
Almost like when we first met Mr. Wingrave,” said Bridget.
Emily prepared a scathing retort, but instead she laughed.
“There is my sister!
Her humor returns!”
“I am sorry.
I’ve been difficult, haven’t I?” said Emily.
“Worse to some than to me.
I was certain I would have to separate you and Miss Morley before someone lost an eye.
Mary could have wrung her hands raw.
But… Miss Morley deserved reproach.
Her comments were unpardonable.”
“She seeks marriage and Mr. Wingrave is right in her path.
I won’t take it to heart.”
They walked side by side.
“I wish someone were in my path,” said Bridget.
“Perhaps when mother is well we might take a season in the city.
Your prospects will be much better there.”
“You would come with me?”
“Why not?
I would go for the culture myself.
See more of the world,” said Emily.
The words of Mr. Wingrave echoed back at her causing an inexplicable squint to confuse Bridget, until Emily smiled and talked more of what they might find in Dunbarrow.
“Who is that?” inquired Bridget of Anne Barham.
A tall man with a stately air had slipped into the public dance almost unnoticed.
“His name is Mr. Edward Annesley, a visiting gentleman.
His family are old nobility, very well-regarded at court.
Mama has been after how long he plans to stay to no avail,” said Anne.
The Wingraves arrived, Mr. Sheridan and Miss Morley in tow.
None of the women missed how Mr. Annesley took a keen interest in the family, since they watched him so closely.
“What was that about?” asked Emily.
“Maybe he knows them?” said Bridget.
Mary and Miss Morley came over to them directly.
“Miss Worthing, Miss Bridget, Miss Barham, Miss Victoria, how are you all this evening?” said Mary.
“Quite well, I thank you.
Have you settled in at Reddester since last Friday?” said Emily, but Mary Wingrave looked elsewhere.
Upon perusing the room her gaze had fallen upon Mr. Annesley, which caused her no little upset.
“Mary?” said Miss Morley, following her eyes.
She sucked in a breath and said, “Mary, Miss Worthing asked if you have settled in.”
“Oh?
Oh yes, quite settled.
Excuse me, I am suddenly disoriented.
Olive could you take me to fresh air?” said Mary, leaning heavily on her friend.
“Excuse us,” said Miss Morley.
“Now that is very odd,” said Anne.
“They must have an acquaintance, though I cannot say what would make her faint at the sight of him,” said Emily.
Mrs. Barham interrupted their speculation, dragging her husband and Mr. Annesley behind her.
“Anne?
Anne?
I must have you meet Mr. Annesley!
He has told me the latest news from the city and it is just fascinating,” said Mrs. Barham.
“Pleased to meet you,” said Anne with a smirk, “Let me also introduce my dear friend Miss Worthing, her sister Miss Bridget, and my sister Miss Victoria.”
Mrs. Barham recalculated the wisdom of introducing Mr. Annesley to her daughter amid so many young ladies.
“Very pleased to meet you all,” said Mr. Annesley.
“What news do you have?” asked Bridget, “Of the city?”
Bridget’s animated beauty stole Mr. Annesley’s attention from her daughters just as Mrs. Barham had feared.
“I merely said that it was windier than usual, Miss Bridget, nothing stupendous,” said Mr. Annesley.
“What is more stupendous than the wind, Mr. Annesley?
It is purported to carry the music of the ages on its back, or perhaps the voice of one’s lost love,” said Bridget.
Faced with an unexpected answer, Mr. Annesley stared at the teasing grin Bridget leveled at him.
“That is… something I had not considered.
Perhaps I have spent too many days huddled in my collar to notice any music,” he said.
“What a shame, Mr. Annesley.
Wind music is my favorite next to the creations of my sister,” said Bridget.
Mrs. Barham looked between the two of them, dissatisfied.
“Wind music?
What nonsense!
Anne can play a tune on the harp that would shame any frigid gust, isn’t that so my dear?” said Mrs. Barham to her husband.
“I think it was meant in an extraordinary sense, love,” said Mr. Barham.
“Oh Harold, do not speak if you cannot follow along,” said his wife.
“Would you like to dance, Miss Bridget, when the music begins?” inquired Mr. Annesley.
“That sounds lovely, thank you, Mr. Annesley,” said Bridget.
Mrs. Barham took off for another corner of the room to sulk, taking Mr. Barham with her.
Anne sighed in relief.
Jonah approached Victoria Barham, giving Anne and Emily a superb opportunity to leave the couples behind.
The public hall rang with laughter and the clinking of glasses.
Mr. Worthing himself had funded the rebuilding of the uncared for structure, insisting on a sturdier floor and a new balcony for romantic views of the night sky.
Mary and Miss Morley were not on the balcony, leading Emily to think they’d gone out the front where the servants and drivers made their own merry.
“This is how it shall be, when we are old maids.
We shall slip away from couples to talk about our adventures,” said Anne.
Caught thinking about the Wingraves, Emily blurted out, “If your perfect man walked into this room and valiantly proposed, would you accept him?” as they took a turn about the room.
“That is a strange question.
My perfect man...
Barring the notion that he does not breathe air, but faerie dust, if he could make me happy and treat me as I wish to be treated, would I marry him?
I--“
“Miss Worthing, Miss Barham,” Mr. Wingrave interrupted Anne’s answer, “Miss Worthing, would you give me the honor of dancing with you again?”
“I will, thank you,” said Emily and he led her away.
Anne pursed her lips, and shook her head.
“Your sister had a dizzy spell, do you know how she fairs?” said Emily.
“I have ordered the carriage for her.
Apparently it did not pass,” said Mr. Wingrave.
“Peter will be disappointed.
He had planned on dancing with her.”
“Send along her apologies, if you will,” he said.
“Have you met Mr. Annesley?”
“I have.
He’s an old friend of mine.”
“Oh.
’Tis a shame then that he does not stay at your house,” said Emily.
“We haven’t spoken in many years,” said Mr. Wingrave.
The subject was firmly closed, even to Emily.
“I see,” she said.
“You seem in better spirits tonight than I’ve seen you before,” said Mr. Wingrave.
“My sister reminded me what taking oneself too seriously can do to one’s constitution.”
“A splendid victory for your sister, though I must warn you, if Mr. Sheridan sees how much improved you are, he’ll be quite taken in.”
“Mr. Wingrave!” cried Emily.
“Do not be shocked by the honesty you ask for or I shall no longer give it to you, Miss Worthing.”
Mr. Wingrave smiled as she calmed her nerves.
For his treachery, she decided to tease his own sensibilities.
She put on a considerate frown as they stepped toward and away from each other with the music.
“Mr. Sheridan is a nice man,” said Emily, “With jolly manners and a house fit for a lady.”
“You... are correct.”
The confusion played across his face.
“What are you imagining, Mr. Wingrave?
That the value of a secure husband is lost on me?”
“More that a secure husband is of no value to you, a daughter of fortune who cares for her own needs.”
“That makes me sound rather selfish, Mr. Wingrave,” said Emily.
“Not at all.
I would call it self-reliance.
As with all things, a virtue can be turned into a fault, however.”
“Perhaps you are right.
I should learn to depend on a nice man, someone with jolly manners.”
She relished the sight of his troubled stare, usually so unaffected.
“I think you would do better to depend on a different sort of man,” he said at last.
“Oh?
And what sort of man is that?
My own definition caused us some difficulty, so this time I shall let you choose.”
The dance came to an end and Mr. Wingrave led Emily away, so engrossed by their interaction that neither realized how they seemed to others an involved couple.
“Intelligent, sensible, and with enough affection to overcome your prideful boundaries,” said Mr. Wingrave.
His frank description made Emily laugh.
“Did I tell you that such a man does not exist?”
“If he did, would you have him?”
The query silenced her laughter, so awash with implications that any humor was caught in her throat.
A shadow over Mr. Wingrave’s shoulder broke the intense communication and saved her from answering.
“Wingrave, I would have words with you,” said Mr. Annesley.
Mr. Wingrave turned from her to face the one who addressed him.
“Our families have nothing to say,” he stated, striding away from the man without disengaging Emily from his arm.
“You’ll be pleased to know Mrs. Pratchett is well in Dunbarrow,” said Mr. Annesley as he followed them.
Mr. Wingrave whirled on him in such fury that Emily let go and stood back.
“Do not speak of it here!” he warned, startling nearby dancers.
Mr. Annesley frowned, but relented, bowing his way back to Bridget.
Mr. Wingrave settled and regained connection with Emily.
The mystery surrounding him had gathered up into a storm in her head, the first raindrops now fell.
“I apologize, Miss Worthing.”
“I accept,” said Emily.
Not even in her curiosity could she bring herself to ask about that kind of a reaction.
“I know not what to say after such behavior, I cannot explain.”
“Another secret?
Do I see the real Mr. Wingrave before me, or is it a doppelgänger?” said Emily.
He smiled.
“All too real, my lady.”
“Hmm,” she sighed.
“This does not prevent you from answering my question,” said Mr. Wingrave.
“After the reflection of a few moments, I cannot see why it is of any consequence.
If I advertise my answer, how shall I surprise anyone?
I am due a certain amount of anticipatory nervousness on the part of my suitor, as is any woman.”