The next morning, Emily found that she had, at some point in the night, found her way back to bed and had crawled under the sheets. There was a wet spot on her pillow from her tears and, as she struggled to open her eyes, she realised that she had cried so much that her lashes had become matted.
The crying hadn't helped, though. It had given her momentary relief, but there was still a heavy sadness in her heart that hadn't been alleviated. That would last a long, long while, she supposed.
Suddenly, the door to her room burst open, and in came Ellen, humming merrily. "Good morning, milady." She greeted, before catching sight of the sorry state Emily was sure she was in, "Oh, are you alright? Do you need me to fetch the doctor or Lady Hawthorne?"
"Yes, Ellen, I'm fine." Emily promised, before adding, "Would you mind bringing me some tea and breakfast to my room, though? I must start packing for my journey. I'm afraid I've put it off for far too long."
"Of course, milady." Ellen said with a short curtsy, "Right away."
Once she'd left, Emily busied herself with running a brush through her tangled hair, before giving up in less than five minutes. She sighed in frustration at the mess her hair had turned into, and sat back in her chair, staring into the looking glass, lost in thought.
Finally, the door opened again, and Emily was glad for the distraction some food would bring. To her surprise, however, it was Cassandra who had brought in the tray and not Ellen.
"Good morning, Em." Cassandra chirped, setting the breakfast tray down on the dressing table. The rich aroma of tea filled the air. On her tray, were two hard-boiled eggs, half a loaf of freshly baked bread, and some jam and butter. "I thought I'd eat in here with you today since you're leaving this evening."
Although her ship was to leave the following night, Emily had to leave for the docks that very day so that she would be on board the ship by noon tomorrow and get her affairs in order before setting sail. It was a passenger ship, not a trade ship, which meant that there were many things she had to sort through once she'd boarded it. She'd booked a first class cabin, so that she could have one last taste of luxury before the hardships she was sure to face.
She was going back to Africa, to Egypt, which she hadn't been to the last time. After that, she was thinking of going to India or perhaps even the West Indies. As far as she could get from Nate, at least.
"You don't look very well, though." Cassandra remarked, concerned, as she cracked open an egg. "Did you get enough sleep last night?"
"I don't think so." She winced, "I kept getting up in the middle of the night. An uneasy mind, I suppose, with the voyage so soon." Emily explained. It was entirely natural for one to be concerned about a journey at sea, for they were often dangerous. So, it would be believable enough to Cassandra, and much easier than explaining everything that had been happening with her and Nate.
"Well, go back to sleep after breakfast, then." Cassandra ordered, "Ellen, Allie and I can help you pack later. Rest must be the order of the day, though, as it is far more important for you to be ready for the journey than to pack for it. It'll be a much quicker task if all of us help."
"Thanks, Cassie." Emily managed a smile, taking a bite of the bread so that she wouldn't have to hold the smile for long. "I think I'll do just that. Where's Juliette?"
"She's sleeping in her bassinet in my chamber." She answered, "Ellen's watching her. She burst into my chamber a while ago to tell me that you weren't looking very good, so I told her to watch Juliette while I came to see you."
"It is only just a little tiredness." Emily informed her again, brushing it off entirely. Cassandra didn't appear to be fully convinced, but Emily soon changed the subject by asking her what Kit's reaction was when she told him she was with child again.
Since it was a dramatic story that involved disbelief and even unconsciousness, it lasted all through breakfast, and Emily was even feeling a little better about it. In fact she'd even forgotten about Nate until Cassandra brought up the subject before she left.
"Oh, by the by, Nate asked me to give this to you." She was holding out an envelope without a seal, probably holding some sort of letter. "He ordered me not to read it, but said it was imperative that you did. I don't know what it's about but, I think you should."
Emily could only nod as she took the envelope from Cassandra and held it tightly against her chest, wondering whether to open it or not. Sensing her mood, Cassie quietly slipped out of the chamber, clearly curious but respectful of Emily's privacy.
"What should I do?" Emily muttered to herself, a hundred different thoughts and emotions swirling through her mind.
On the one hand, she did want to know what Nate had to say. On the other, she was still hurt and reeling from the events of the night before. She'd trusted him, trusted in the fact that he loved her, yet he had betrayed that trust. It wasn't just what he'd done, but also the person he'd done it with that had hurt Emily.
Mary. How she hated that girl. She used people, played with their emotions and didn't care how much she hurt them as long as she got what she wanted in the end. And she had, hadn't she? She'd gotten Nate.
It wasn't as if Emily and Nate and committed themselves to one another, and they hadn't made any promises. Quite the opposite, actually. Yet, Emily had expected so much more from him. She'd expected that he loved her enough, respected her enough not to touch another woman while she was under the same roof.
He'd said that he loved her so much that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, that he wanted to marry her and have children with her. Could that feeling fade so quickly? Because it hadn't for her. She still loved him just as much, even after she'd caught him with Mary. That was exactly why she was so hurt and angry and disappointed. She loved him so, so much.
It had been such a shock to see him in that position with her. It had broken her heart. Shattered it into a thousand fragments, really. Yet, still, she was tempted to trust him. She was tempted to trust him and give him another chance and read what he had to say.
He hadn't said a word the night before, even when she'd given him so much time to. She could only assume that this letter contained everything she so desperately needed to hear, and she could only hope that he had a valid explanation.
She was just about to open the envelope when her door opened again and the last person she wanted to see flounced in, looking incredibly pleased with themselves.
Mary.
She was wearing a finer dress than usual, and exuberant smugness flowed from her in waves strong enough to cloak Emily's entire room with them. Without her invitation, she sat down on the sofa at the foot of Emily's bed and placed her twined fingers on her knees, all the while smirking. The sight of her was enough to make Emily's blood boil in fury and red-hot anger course through her veins.
"What are you doing here?" She demanded hostilely, crossing her arms over her chest, letter still in her grasp. "I don't recall inviting you in."
"Really, Lady Emily, you should consider being nicer to me." Mary drawled as her smile widened. "I shall soon have the power to throw you out whenever I please."
"And what exactly do you mean by that statement?" Emily asked, bristling. The superiority on Mary's mien was only making her angrier and angrier by the second, especially when Mary stood again and walked about the chamber, her fingers reaching out and brushing against the bottles and vials on Emily's dressing table, taking her time to answer.
"Well, I shall soon be Duchess of Somerhall, won't I?" Mary remarked complacently, picking up a bottle of perfume that Emily was particularly fond of, while Emily fought the urge to snatch it from her hands and throw her out of the room. She wanted to hear every stupid word Mary had to say. "When I am, I doubt when my husband will be of any mind to deny me my basic right as lady of the house to admit or, if I choose, not admit a particular individual."
"And what exactly makes you think that you shall ever be Somerhall's mistress?" Emily inquired in faux amusement, taking care to play the same game that Mary was playing. "Has Nate even made you an offer? Or are you just assuming that it is yours?"
"It is only a matter of time before Nathaniel proposes. And, in future, it would be more prudent to address him formally." Mary laughed lightly, and the tinkling sound only succeeded in further annoying Emily. "Especially if we're caught by someone else in a compromising position, someone more likely to spread the word."
"Need I remind you, Miss Smithson," Emily drawled, stressing on that particular word in a way that made Mary's eyes narrow viciously, "That of the two of us, it is I who possesses a title? If either of us has the right to address Nate informally, it is me."
"Not for long." Mary said insistently, "For he is sure to ask me to marry him soon. I have suggested it enough and he has certainly not got any qualms about my future performance in our marital bed, as you yourself were witness to last night when you so unceremoniously entered his chamber."
That one statement of hers hit Emily exactly where it hurt. That one subject, for obvious reasons, was still a tender one. And, from the way she was speaking, it was evident that what Emily had suspected happened actually had happened. Her worst fears were a reality, and not simply a possibility. She had previously had hope, but that hope was fizzling out with every word Mary spoke.
Perhaps Nate actually was willing to marry Mary. Emily had already refused him, so she had no claim on him. He was free to marry whomsoever he pleased. But, that did not take away from the fact that it hurt.
"Again, I iterate," Emily said, powering through and choosing to ignore Mary's words, "What are you doing in my bedchamber? Even if you presume yourself to be the future Duchess of Somerhall, you are not currently in possession of that title, which means that you do not have the right to be here. You are even more so a guest in this household than I myself am, so kindly say whatever you have to say and leave, for I require some privacy at this time."
"Well," Mary began, her smirk back in place, "I only came to tell you one thing, really."
"And what is that?" Emily asked, her tone deathly calm. She wasn't sure how she had kept herself from yelling at Mary or throwing her out yet, but she was close to doing so. For her own sake, Mary would have to finish saying whatever she had to say as soon as she could.
"Just that I won, and you lost." She said lightly, as if it did not mean a thing.
"I wasn't aware that we were even playing." Emily informed her coolly, "Now, would you mind leaving me in peace? Your voice is grating on my nerves."
Mary ignored that last statement and left the room. However, as she left, Emily was left with the sinking feeling that she actually had lost. Mary had Nate, not she.
So, she shoved Nate's letter to the bottom of her trunk. It was probably a wedding invitation, anyway.