Aunt Florence wrapped her arm through Emily’s and led her through the enormous front doors. As Emily looked about the main hall, memories came flooding back.
Sneaking down the curved staircase that hugged one side of the large foyer. Shuffling sideways, with her back pressed firmly to the wall, stopping intermittently at each ornately carved cupid statuette, then hiding behind the crimson draperies that framed large paintings of the breathtaking landscapes, to spy on Henry and Oscar. She would wait for them to leave the house so she could happen upon them in the stables and beg them to take her riding. What a silly child she had been.
But the hardest memory was the last, when she and her parents had said their goodbyes at the foot of that grand staircase almost eight years ago, intending to return in a few short months for Christmastide.
“Oh my, isn’t this just delightful,” Aunty Prue squealed loudly. Bringing Emily back to the present.
Cecily grinned and nodded as she stood with Oscar, their arms intertwined. Emily felt a pang of jealousy as he smiled down at Cecily.
“I’m glad you approve,” said Aunt Florence. “And I’m delighted to have you all here. We will have such a grand time. Which reminds me, are we to expect, Mr Andrews?”
Emily stiffened at the mention of his name and prayed Aunt Florence hadn’t noticed. She dreaded the thought of having to discuss Uncle Joseph.
“Oh yes, silly me. He has decided at the last minute not to come—infuriating man. His business will not allow him time away.”
“That is a shame. I did not realise he has business interests. May I inquire what kind?” asked Aunt Florence.
“Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that. I hardly know.” Aunty Prue waved her hand dismissively as she ogled the beautiful landscapes on the walls.
Aunt Florence frowned, but did not press any further. Emily was also unaware of what kind of business her uncle was involved in and frankly, she did not care. The only thing she was glad of was that he and his horse whip were very far away.
“Come, let us retire to the drawing room for some tea. You all must be famished after such a long journey.”
Aunt Florence led the way to a bright sunlit room. The large windows offered a beautiful outlook of the south lawn and down towards a large fountain surrounded by delicately manicured shrubberies—Beautifully curved and plump—they reminded her of the large wigs some of the more mature ladies of the ton wore.
The room was just as Emily had remembered; It had been her favourite. She had taken tea like a proper lady with her mama and aunt. They taught her how to pour, as well as good conversation topics and those that should be avoided.
Yes, she had been fond of archery lessons, riding her horse and going for adventurous walks with her complaining governess. But in the drawing room she had felt so grown up, more important somehow. Rather than just some silly girl who got in everyone’s way.
It all seemed a lifetime ago. How she wished she could go back to being that age. A time when she was Innocent, happy... loved.
“Emily, don’t slouch. Lady Lockhart will think us lacking in providing you a proper education,” Aunty Prue hissed.
It was meant for her ears only, but Aunty Prue was not one for being quiet. She would often squawk about the house like a rankled cat. It was something Emily never quite got used to. So unlike her own mama, who was quiet and observant. Someone who listened rather than prattled on.
She sat up straight to the point of it being almost painful. But her discomfort was much easier to bear than Aunty Prue’s ire. A lesson she had learned the hard way.
“I’m sure Emily has been well taken care of under your guidance, Mrs Andrews,” Aunt Florence said as the tea arrived.
“Of course, only the best for our dear niece,” Aunty Prue said with a hint of obstinance.
Emily stared at the floor as Aunty Prue’s elbow dug into her side, hidden from view as they sat close together. A reminder to keep her lips sealed. They need not know 'the best' was reserved for Cecily only and not their 'dear niece'.
“After many invitations to visit, I have to wonder what persuaded you to come now, Mrs Andrews?” Henry asked as his mother handed him a cup of tea.
Aunt Florence looked at him wide eyed. “Henry!”
“It’s alright, your Ladyship. We would have wholeheartedly accepted your previous invitations if it hadn’t been for dear Mr Andrews’ poor health. He was wounded in the war you know and the journey, I fear, would have been too much for him. Thank the lord, he has improved much in the last year. But to answer your question of why now? Well, my Cecily has come of age and there are very few suitable gentlemen in our area. I have high hopes of her making an eligible match through your family's connections,” said Aunty Prue, looking the picture of sincerity despite her vulgar words.
Emily looked up at Cecily as she smiled at Oscar, who was seated next to her. They were opposite to where she and Aunty Prue sat, giving her a front-row seat to her Cousin’s outrageous flirting. Cecily then placed her hand on Oscar’s arm, much to Emily’s disgust.
“It is my dearest wish to make a good match and I am already certain the gentlemen of Yorkshire are without comparison,” Cecily simpered as she batted her lashes.
But Emily knew the truth, the real reason Aunty Prue finally accepted, and he was sitting in that very room. It was not eligible gentlemen they wanted, but a certain gentleman. When they had learned that Oscar was to be visiting, wild horses would not have kept them away. And certainly not Uncle Joseph’s imagined ill health.
Henry was a wealthy viscount and extremely eligible. But his looks were plain, and Cecily and Aunty Prue were vain. Oscar was the prize catch, a higher rank, rich and extremely handsome.
He hadn’t changed. His beautiful blue eyes still captivated her. His wild dark brown hair, and that one dimple in his right cheek. When he smiled, Emily melted.
Suddenly, she was pulled from her trance as a sharp elbow dug into her side, making her wince with pain. Her tea cup rattled violently on its saucer. She had been staring at Oscar, and Aunty Pure was not pleased. She quickly averted her eyes back to the floor as the conversation carried on.
“My dear Mrs Andrews, and please, call me Florence. I have just thought of the most splendid idea.” Aunt Florence looked about the room, smiling at everyone as they waited in anticipation. “We will hold a house party. I will invite my many acquaintances from London and the surrounding areas. And during their stay, we shall hold a coming-out ball for the girls.”
“Oh my goodness, how wonderful!” Cecily exclaimed. “And of course, Lord Trentham, you shall receive the first dance.”
Emily looked up in time to see Oscar smiling. She felt winded by his response. Then he turned his head and looked directly at her. His eyes held concern. She immediately dropped her gaze to the now familiar carpet. They were playing right into Aunty Prue’s hands and they didn’t even know it.
“What a splendid idea, Florence. It is my dearest wish to see Cecily settled in a fortunate situation and with your guidance, I dear say she will not be Miss Andrews for long.”
“And Emily, of course?” Henry added. Emily looked up at him as he directed a pointed stare at Aunty Prue.
“I beg your pardon?” She replied.
“You will want a good match for Emily as well?” He went on.
“Well, of course.”
Aunty Prue looked a little flustered at Henry’s bluntness. Emily smiled at her hands in her lap. It had been too long since Aunty Prue had been put in her place, and Emily was determined to enjoy every minute.
A look passed between Henry and his mother. She looked very displeased with the way he was behaving at present. And Aunty Prue seemed most upset at the way she had been spoken to. She noticed Emily’s upturned mouth and jolted her once more in the ribs, making Emily blanch.
“She is past her prime at one and twenty, but I’m sure there will be some gentleman not at all bothered by that,” Cecily said, coming to her mother’s defence.
“It is never too late to find happiness, Miss Andrews. I dear say, Miss Emily will be just as successful as yourself,” Oscar said, coming to Emily’s defence.
Cecily simply nodded and smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
“There is a lovely country curate that lives in the nearby village. He would make an excellent match for Emily. But if all else fails, there shall always be a place in our home for our dear niece.”
Emily couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The curate, Mr Jones, was at least twenty years her senior. Then, rather abruptly, Aunty Prue set her tea down and rose to her feet.
“My goodness, Florence I am feeling rather fagged. Our journey was indeed long. I’m sure the girls could do with a lie down before supper. Would you be a dear and call for someone to show us to our rooms?”
“Of course, Prudence, we will not keep you a moment longer. Jeffery will show you the way.” Aunt Florence looked rather unimpressed, but Aunty Prue paid her no mind.
As Jeffrey walked along the wide corridor with Cecily close behind, Aunty Prue laced her arm through Emily’s and squeezed tight just below her shoulder and dug in her nails.
“Remember, girl, this visit is for Cecily’s benefit, not yours. You are to stay away from Lord Trentham.”
Emily looked at her in surprise. She tried to pull away as pain started pulsing through her arm. But Aunty Prue wasn’t so easily dissuaded. Holding tighter, she leaned close to Emily and whispered.
“I saw the way you were looking at him. Now don’t you be getting any funny ideas. He’s Cecily’s, and that’s all there is to it. Now that I’ve thought of it, I think Mr Jones would make a perfect husband for you.”
Aunty Prue smiled, released Emily, and increasing her pace, she caught up with her daughter.
"Oh and Emily, be a dear and unpack Cecily’s trunks. You do such a wonderful job and I'd rather not leave it to some simple maid to bungle," Aunty Prue said over her shoulder.
Emily wiped at the forming tears. She would not cry in their presence. She couldn’t and wouldn’t let them have that satisfaction.