'The course of true love never did run smooth'
-A Midsummer's Night's Dream, William Shakespeare
Max had been wandering around New York City looking for Emilia. He had no idea where she was and though he'd sent a telegram to her brother he had yet to receive a reply about her whereabouts. It was hard to find someone who didn't want to be found, especially in a city like New York.
On the fourth day of fruitless searching he returned to the small hotel he'd been staying at only to find a telegram waiting for him from his brother. Thinking it may contain Emilia's address he leapt at the chance to open it.
Nora very ill. Request to see you.
That was all. Nothing about Emilia, nothing at all to aid him. He stared at it, his jaw tight, calculating, weighing the situation.
If Nora was seriously ill and Max didn't come to her that would be nothing short of cruel and he knew he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.
He thanked the clerk and went up to his room, still mulling over his dilemma. On one hand, this was the woman who had broken his engagement, made his fiancee hate him and possibly ruined his future with Emilia. He had tried, all those years ago, to help her and she had returned his offer with malice. He had done what he could for her.
Whatever happened to Nora Cadman was no longer his concern he decided. He would only focus on finding his betrothed and explaining everything. Whatever fate befell Nora was now out of his hands.
He said so in a telegram the next morning and sent it back to Boston, a look of grim determination on his face.
Emilia packed her bag and, explained to Jane that they returning to home, or whatever home they would find in Boston. She was convinced she'd never fall for the charms of men again, no matter how clever of charming they appeared to be at first glance.
It was with a lighter heart she boarded the train to Boston that evening, dressed in a fine moss green taffeta dress, her hair twisted into a messy, but elegant chignon, held in place by her favourite pearl hair pin. Her hat, the only one she'd brought from England, was white with a large feather and had a veil of lace that draped over one eye.
She wouldn't let herself admit that she'd love for Max to see her like this.
The train rolled into Boston at half past nine. Emilia disembarked, Jane's hand in one of her own, the suitcase in another, the empty hat box hanging off her arm.
She caught a cab towards her brother's inn, enjoying the familiar scenery of Boston, smiling at the familiar spots as she passed them.
New York had been all very grand but Boston made her feel at home.
Soon enough she arrived at the inn. She paid the driver and entered the inn, going up to landlady.
"Hello, is Samuel Turner in?"
"No, he left a day ago."
"What? Where'd he go?" Emilia, asked, a note of panic in her voice. The landlady shrugged noncommittally and went back to conversing with the customer.
Emilia, at a loss as for what else to do, went to Mrs. Webb's where she found her old landlady sitting in the dining room, a mug of tea in her hand, her crescent moon spectacles perched on her nose. The sight was so familiar it warmed Emilia and she smiled widely.
"Emilia! We didn't expect you back so soon," Mrs. Webb looked pleased. "I've got a letter from your mother here, it arrived the day after you left."
"What?" exclaimed Emilia, growing pale. Her smile was gone, replaced by a look of shock that was almost comical.
"Yes, here it is," Mrs. Webb handed over the letter cheerfully and Emilia took it, emotions crawling over each other in her chest like prisoners in a pit, desperate to escape.
With trembling fingers she opened the envelope, the familiar swirling writing send chills down Emilia's back. There were two small creamy pieces of paper, dated almost two weeks ago.
Dearest Emilia,
How I've missed you! I know I've so much to explain to you. It turns out your father had been hiding all your letters from me. I had no idea how to reach you and I was so worried! How was I to know what had happened to you? Oh I've been so worried. June has reassured me that you are fine, it's just as well, but I've been so concerned.
But I cannot speak ill of your father, oh I shudder to think of it, but he had an accident and he cut open his leg and it is horribly infected. By the time this has reached you I fear that he may have passed. I pray for him every night, I cannot have him snatched away from me as you and Samuel have been.
Speaking of Samuel, he has been cleared! The police have found the real murderer and of course, as we knew it would be, Samuel is innocent.
So please, please come back to England. I have enclosed a check for 50 pounds and I am begging you to return as soon as you can, I need you two more than anything now.
You must tell me everything about America! You must have seen and done so much. Although it was cruel of your father to send you away I must admit that you are lucky to have gone so far, so young. As painful as it was for me to said you away I am glad at least you got to travel.
Are you married? You must be, oh there is so much to tell!
All my love,
Mama
Emilia held the letter tightly in her hand, her face twisted in pain as she crumpled to the floor, tears coming fast and thick.
"My dear!" Mrs. Webb looked up from her reading and rushed over to Emilia's side and placed an arm around her, pulling her close. "What's the matter?"
But how could Emilia explain? There was so much wrong. Max no longer loved her, her father was ill and possibly dead. Though he had been cruel to her, he was her father and she didn't wish any harm to come to him, her mother wanted her to leave Boston, everything seemed to be crumbling from under her. "Everything," Emilia managed to choke out before convulsing again.
Jane, upon seeing her mother in such grief also burst into tears and Emilia reached out her arms for her daughter.
"My dear, everything can't be wrong." Mrs. Webb looked distressed but pressed Emilia close to her chest. "What you need is a hot cup of tea and a warm bath."
"I have nowhere to bathe." Emilia choked out. She was homeless on top of everything.
"Nonsense! You stay here tonight. Your old room is still empty. There now, sit on a chair and I'll get some tea. The water's still warm so it shan't take long." Mrs Webb bustled about while Emilia, through her own tears, soothed her daughter. Soon after Mrs. Webb handed her the cup of tea and Emilia sipped it gratefully, sniffing hard.
"Now dear, your brother stopped by and gave me this to give to you. He's moved to some rooms about ten minutes away."
"Oh, thank you," Emilia had forgotten the original purpose of her visit here and took the paper gratefully. "I'll go to him tonight."
"No you won't," Mrs. Webb said firmly. "You'll bathe here and have a good night's sleep. You look wore out."
"But," Emilia started to protest but Mrs. Webb shook her head.
"It's no use protesting, you'll stay here. You need a good night sleep. I don't know what you've been through the past week but it can't be healthy, all this strain. You stay here, free of charge."
"Thank you," Emilia smiled, obliged for the motherly way Mrs. Webb was treating her. She bit back another flood of tears and Mrs Webb went up to run her a bath.
Mrs. Webb was right; the bath and tea had done wonders for Emilia and soon she was in her nightgown, ready for sleep. Jane was already slumbering peacefully, hands under her cheek, her mouth slightly open. Emilia kissed her forehead and slipped into bed next to her daughter, blew out the candle and slept.
She had been tired and she slept deeply, but not dreamlessly.
She dreamt she was going through a dark hallway, all alone. She was dressed in long silk wedding gown, her hair was all pinned up with flowers and a veil, yet she was wandering alone in the dark. There were doors lining the corridor, all closed and locked and she didn't dare stop to look through the keyhole. She didn't know what she would see but she knew that it would terrify her.
And so she walked along on tenterhooks until she came to the end of the corridor where there was a closed but unlocked door. Instead of the dark wood that the other doors had been made of this was slightly smaller and painted white. She knew she had to open the door but she was too scared to. She didn't want to and every sense screamed at her to run far and fast.
But she didn't.
She reached out and turned the handle, taking a deep breath and stepping into the room, wincing as if expecting someone to slap her.
But the room was empty.
And somehow that was worse than she expected.
She turned and ran, ran faster than she thought was possible, looking everywhere for an exit.
Instead of doors lining the hall there were people standing in niches. People she knew and recognized: her father, looking pale and feverish was in one niche, screaming at her that she was a fool and useless, so useless. She wasn't a good daughter and she wouldn't be a good wife to a respectable man. Emilia ran faster, trying to block him out but she couldn't.
In another niche was Christopher South with that terrible leer on his face. He was grinning like a madman at her and though she knew he couldn't come out of the niche she was terrified. His leering face followed her until she reached another niche and his face was replaced by that of Henry Collins. He screamed at her for help, his eyes rolling back in his head, his handsome face a mask of pain. He cried out that he loved her and if she really loved him back she would help him because he was in such terrible pain. She wanted to stop but she knew if she did she would have to face all the enemies of his nightmarish hallway so she kept running until Henry's suffering was replaced with that face of Nora. Except it wasn't Nora because it was more beautiful. More beautiful and yet more hideous because she looked angry and cruel. Her face was shining as if illuminated by candles and her eyes were large and luminous. She wore the same wedding gown as Emilia did, only that Emilia felt crude and ugly next to her because Nora was radiant and lovely and perfect. She taunted Emilia, saying that Max would never love her because how could be when Nora was there? Nora was so much more beautiful, so much cleverer and charming than Emilia would ever be.
Her face was soon replaced by Nellie O'Malley who screamed at her, calling her names such as 'whore' and 'wanton' saying that Emilia should be ashamed of herself and that it was disgraceful the way she had thrown herself between Max and Fredrick like some fallen woman.
And finally it was Max who appeared before her, stony faced. The wry amusement that usually filled his pale green eyes was placed with hatred and spite.
"I loved you and you left me. You're a silly, stupid girl. Why would I ever want to marry you?"
She ran faster but he kept up, repeating it until she thought she would go mad with it.
"Emilia!"
No, she didn't want to see who it was, she ran faster but it was harder now, like running through deep mud."Emilia!" No, she wouldn't listen, she wouldn't. But it was so hard to get away. "EMILIA!" Emilia opened her eyes to see a crowd of blurry faces, Mrs. Webb, Samuel and Jane among them. She heard a male voice she couldn't place and though she strove to understand what it was saying she couldn't. It was as if her head was filled with feathers. She blinked but even that was an effort. She heard Mrs. Webb say something else before falling again into a sleep that was plagued with unfriendly faces and memories.
Max had tried everything he could think of for locating Emilia but it was futile. He hadn't seen her and though he had doubted her would, how could he in a city as large as New York? He felt miserable and he boarded the train back to Boston, ready to admit defeat.
He was not one to believe in true love and happily ever afters. He was a writer and he believed that those things only believed in fanciful gothic romances and operas, not the harsh reality of life. Despite that however, he had believed that Emilia loved him. He knew that he loved her, he knew that with all his heart. How he had known he didn't really know. How does one tell if one's in love?
He knew what is was by definition of the dictionary, but a book hardly did it justice. He knew he was in love with Emilia, that was certain. He knew that as well as he knew fire was hot and rain wet. He knew that he would do anything to keep her safe and happy.
Even if that meant letting her go? A small voice in his head asked.
Yes
He wasn't as certain as all that though. He had barely survived being without her for four days, could he really live a life without her in it?
No.
That was the answer.
The past four days had been the worst in his life. Before now he didn't know that a single person could contain so many emotions at once: Anger, denial, misery, longing, pity, frustration and fear had all been brewing in his chest, turning like some sick wheel of fate, never stopping, a constant, unstoppable carousel. Even in his sleep he was plagued with thoughts and worries, plagued with nightmares.
As he sat on the Boston bound train, looking glassy eyed through the window, all he could think about was Emilia's anger; the look of pure loathing she'd given him when he came into her room. He shuddered even now, imagining her pale blue eyes, the way they flashed as if she'd be glad to throttle him right there and then.
He was distracted when a young blonde mother and her daughter had gotten into his compartment and he'd started, his heart leaping. When he looked at her properly however, he saw that she was too old, too tall, her hair too pale and were eyes were too small. It wasn't at all like Emilia Max realized and went back to staring morosely out the window.
The sun had just set when the train pulled into Boston. Max stepped out onto the platform, making his way through happy families reuniting with husbands or sweethearts or parents. He walked, head down, out into the cool night air where cabs lined up, waiting to take people to their next destinations. Max, not feeling a particular desire to return home, wandered away from the busy train station and towards Eva Olsen's flat.
Eva was one of his oldest friends and confidantes and could surely ease his mind. Feeling a little more confident he picked up his pace and thirty minutes later arrived at the small house Eva shared with three other tenants. He knocked on the door and it was opened by a burly man in his shirtsleeves, a pipe dangling out of the corner of his mouth.
"Yeah, what you want?" He asked, surveying Max with a wary look.
"I'm here to see Miss Olsen."
"She ain't here," the man growled.
"Edward! Who is it?" Eva's voice rang through the house.
"Some bloke's looking for you," Edward's nostrils flared with irritation and his eyes narrowed looking at Max. "She don't want no trouble from you," he snarled and Max braced himself, preparing for trouble.
"I'm not here to give her trouble," he said tersely, mystified as to what this man meant. Before Edward could respond Eva came into view, wrapped in dark red robe, her hair in curling papers, her face devoid of cosmetics.
"Oh Max," she looked relived. "It's fine Edward, he's a friend," she smiled and Edward grunted and shuffled away, muttering darkly.
"Eva, how are you?" Max stepped into the house, kissing the actress' cheek.
"Tired, and you? I heard you and Emilia had a falling out," she locked the door behind him and led him up the stairs.
"We did, and I still haven't found her. What did that man mean, trouble? Is everything okay?" He asked and she made a noncommittal noise, opening the door to her room.
"Want a drink?" She uncorked a bottle that stood on the table, kicking the door closed behind her.
"Yes please, but you're avoiding the question." He frowned, leaning against a cabinet and looking at her.
"Some idiot's been after me for a while, it's nothing I can't deal with. Edward's been good about it though and guarding who comes to see me, as you saw."
"What do you mean, 'been after you'?" He asked, accepting the glass she handed him.
"I cut it off with some fellow and he hasn't been very pleased," she drained her glass in a large swallow, pouring another for herself. "Been making all sorts of threats."
"You've got to be careful," Max looked aghast and she smiled grimly, patting her thigh. "Borrowed one of Edward's pistols and been learning how to use it. I'm more than prepared," she raised her glass to him and he laughed.
"Of course you'd do that," he sipped his own beverage. "I'm sure you can protect yourself but be careful."
"I will be, but don't worry. I want to hear more about what happened with you." She straddled a chair. He sat across from her and explained about Nora.
When he was finished she let out a low whistle and refilled his glass.
"And you still have no idea where Emilia is?"
"No, but I'll go to her brother, he'll know."
"Ah yes, her brother," Eva smirked. "He made quite an impression on Dinah. Anyway, I'm sure Emilia will come to her senses, though I don't know. These high class girls can be awfully touchy."
"She looked as if she wanted to bash my head in when I last saw her."
"Well," she shrugged again. It seemed to be her immediate response when faced with a difficulty.
"Anyway, I should go," Max drained his glass and stood. She followed suit, wobbling a little and kissed his cheek.
"All I can say is good luck." She said, opening the door for him.
"Thanks, I'll need it. You be careful," he warned and placed his hat on his head before returning to his house, intent on a long sleep.
Lots of stuff to come. I feel that maybe I'm enjoying putting my characters through pain a little too much. But I always make it okay in the end? Don't I?
Actually no, I don't lol. :P
Anyway, hope you enjoyed that, please vote if you did and comment what you thought.
Cheers,
-B.