Never Land the First Fish

Chapter Twenty-One: Part 3

The house was overflowing with people. Emily waited for Maddox's mother to appear and send her off to an inn. Instead, Longford led them along a screened aisle at the edge of the large vaulted hall in which a dozen people were all talking at once, and where children of all ages played underfoot.

"My wife will be in the great parlour," he said, opening a door and taking them down a short passage to another large room. This one had windows on two sides looking out over the gardens. It was as busy as the hall, though with fewer young children. Instead, groups of adults and young people sat in groups, some playing cards, others occupying themselves with drawing or embroidery or other hand work, and still others merely talking. Several people looked up as they came into the room, and one, a very pretty lady, leapt to her feet and came forward with her hands outstretched. Longford took them and bent to kiss her cheek.

For a moment, he stood, smiling into her eyes. "Diana."

She returned the smile. "Stephen." This, then, must be Lady Longford, who had once been Longford's mistress.

She presented her cheek to Stocke, then Maddox, then turned to Emily, looking expectant.

Maddox and Longford spoke at once, but Lady Longford looked to her husband. "Diana, may I introduce Miss Kilbrierry to you."

Lady Longford beamed. "Oh, but Longford and I saw you perform, in Paris. Remember, Stephen? On our wedding trip?" Her brow furrowed.

A theatrical performer, in other words. "I am intruding," Emily said, with a perfunctory curtsey

"Not at all," replied Lady Longford, her eyes widening. "I would hope any friend of Maddox would always be welcome here." Her brow furrowed again. "I do hope the accommodations..." Longford whispered something to her, then grinned at Maddox.

Lady Longford gave him a shove. "Stephen, behave." She blushed as she glanced at Emily. What had Longford suggested?

She looked around, and spoke to a girl who was watching from a nearby sofa. "Margaret, will you take Miss Kilbrierry up to the ship chamber? And let Mrs Price know that we have three more to dinner? Miss Kilbrierry, this is my niece, Margaret Porter. Ask her for anything you need. We are keeping country hours, with dinner at six o'clock. We generally meet here some fifteen minutes before hand, if that suits you."

Emily nodded, but her eyes were drawn to Maddox, who was looking around the room as if hunting for someone. "Where is Mama?"

"With Father," Longford told him. "Come on. I'll take you to them."

Maddox turned to Emily, a question in his eyes. "I'll see you at dinner," she assured him, and followed Miss Porter from the room.

The room was small, with a narrow bed, a window seat, a washstand and a few pegs for clothes, and looked out over a utilitarian central courtyard. However, it was luxuriously appointed, so clearly a guest room. Several paintings ofsailings ships explained the name. Perhaps it was intended for a companion or the like? Emily reminded herself that she was here for Maddox, and must ignore any slights.

Miss Porter, though, apologised for not giving her one of the better chambers. "We are sharing them two or three to a room, Miss Kilbrierry, but we can't ask that of you. Fortunately, my grandfather's sister did not stay as long as expected." The servants arrived with Emily's travel trunk, and Miss Porter left to see about hot water so Emily could wash.

The departure of the earl's sister was mentioned again at dinner. Apparently, she had taken exception at not being given her usual commodious accommodation, and had decamped to stay in the village with a childhood friend.

This set the younger people of the table into a flurry of comments about the sleeping habits and morning behaviour of their own roommates. None of them seemed to be troubled by the inconvenience of sharing rooms.

An older matron she had met before dinner when Magnus had taken her around the room to introduce her to his brothers and sisters expressed some gratitude that only immediate members of the family were staying in the house. Apparently, cousins had been accommodated with someone referred to only as Susan.

Emily went up to bed straight after dinner. The day had been long, and she was tired.

But she was unused to sleeping alone. After half an hour of fruitless tossing, she poured herself a wine from the decanter thoughtfully provided and sat by the window. One by one, the windows that let onto the courtyard darkened.

Around her, the sounds of people moving down corridors. muted conversations, the rattling of trays and other sounds of occupation slowly diminished, until the house was silent. Still, she was awake all.

Then, in the silence, she heard a scratch on the door and instantly knew who it was. Sure enough, she opened to Maddox. Dear Maddox, dressed in a banyan looking at her with a question in his eyes. She drew him inside and towards the narrow bed. Now she had what she needed.

A while later, just before she dropped asleep, Maddox already breathing evenly beside her, she allowed herself a moment of melancholy. It would surely not taken long, now that he was back among his own, to realise how unsuitable she was for the role of his wife.

It was already too late for her, despite her common sense, despite her experience with Narciso. For her, the only possible outcome was heartache.