"I trust you enjoyed the ball, your grace," Gloria asked while unbuttoning Emma's gown.
"Yes, it was good," Emma replied. In truth, she wanted to elaborate more. She wanted to say that she'd never thought that a ball could be like this. That dressing up, being accompanied by a handsome, funny gentleman and dancing with him had been the most fun she'd had in years.
Lord Beresford—no, Garrett, she'd come to realise wasn't terrible at all. He was everything she might've expected from a gentleman. While he was good looking and charming, he was also warm.
And somehow, being in his company had made that warmth seep into her as well...it had made the ever-present chill she felt dissipate. It made her forget why she was here, what she'd dedicated her life to.
This couldn't continue.
She felt the dreamy smile on her face fall.
The worst part was, she wanted to share this with Gloria. Or anyone, really. Somebody who would care, listen, somebody who wouldn't abandon her.
She was tired of this never ending loneliness.
Emma rarely ever entertained such maudlin thoughts. She was stronger than this. She'd chosen this path willingly. She'd married Henry knowing what her life would be like...cold, incomplete.
It wasn't Henry's fault, he was the kindest of men. She thought about that afternoon when she'd first met him...
1842
Dorsetshire
"Where is my sister, you scoundrel?!" Emma yelled. She'd been yelling for the last two hours but to no avail. Her lungs burned and her throat ached, but she couldn't stop yelling. Not until that despicable Lord Graves told her where her sister was. The butler had refused her request to meet with the Earl and Emma had no choice but to scream until the man gave her an audience.
And then finally the door opened, revealing a balding man with a broad middle. He stepped outside and his eyes immediately landed on her. Green eyes filled with hatred and annoyance.
"Who are you?"
"I am Emma Thornton, the Vicar Thomas's younger daughter."
"What do you want, girl?" he asked.
"I want my sister," she spat, not bothering to curtsey.
"I do not have your sister. I suggest you look somewhere else," he grunted and made to turn and reenter his home.
"But Lord Arthur took her a week ago. He said he was going to marry her. They haven't returned yet...I know she's in there!"
The man looked at her again, his eyes narrowing at the mention of his son.
"I do not know where he took her, but I'm certain she's not here."
He didn't seem surprised at all that his son had eloped with her sister. Emma was about yell some more but another old gent stepped out, confusion plain on his face.
"What is happening, Matthew?" he asked the Earl.
Lord Graves disappeared into his home then, taking his friend with him, leaving Emma extremely confused and furious. Meanwhile a servant appeared, carrying a tumbler of water.
When she offered it to Emma, she refused.
"Miss, you've been screaming all day. The kind Lord asked me to bring you water. Please drink," the girl said. Emma sighed. She did need water.
She accepted the glass and thanked the girl.
She sat on the stairs of the mansion's entrance, hoping for one glimpse of her sister...as assurance that she was well.
Several minutes passed before the door opened again. This time only the other gent came.
"My dear, I would like to talk to you. Will you allow me to take you home?"
"I am not going anywhere until I see my sister."
"I will tell you, but you must allow me to take you home."
"I do not even know you," Emma growled.
"I am Henry Gordon, Lord Graves' friend."
Emma scanned his clothes...he seemed to be noble as well. She bit her lip, debating if she should go with him.
She could sit here all day with no hope of seeing her sister or she could go with this man who seemed to know something of her sister's whereabouts.
And for some reason, she felt like she could trust this man.
Choice made, she got up and dusted her skirts. His eyes softened and he offered her his arm. They walked to his carriage in silence. Emma told him where she lived when asked and mounted the carriage.
"Where is my sister?" she asked as soon as the man sat opposite to her.
"Your sister is dead." Although he said this bluntly, his eyes were not devoid of kindness.
But that did not lessen the blow in any way.
"What do you mean? Mary is dead? It can't be!" Emma felt like she was slipping farther and farther away from sanity.
"I do not know why but Lord Graves' son said that she killed herself."
"Mary would never do that!"
"My dear, I know how you feel. But we must not give in to emotions as this time..."
Emma looked at him incredulously.
"You will have plenty of time to grieve later. But first, you must deal with your situation."
"What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice hoarse.
"Is your father at home?"
"My father is dead."
The man closed his eyes as if in pain.
"Look Emma, Lord Graves was very tight lipped about your sister...but from what little he told me, I could glean that you are not completely safe. First, you must tell me whatever you know about your sister and Arthur's courtship."
"He met us in a fair. He began coming home and we became comfortable with having him around...he was very charming and sweet—not at all pompous like his father. It was not long before he expressed his interest in Mary, my elder sister."
Henry nodded, encouraging her to continue.
"At first she was hesitant...he was the only son of an Earl, after all," Emma said. "But I suppose she had feelings for him as well because she decided to accept his suit. It was just Mary and I ever since our father passed on last summer. So Lord Arthur said that once they married, he would find me a respectable husband as well or I could stay with them for as long as I wished. They left last week to meet the Earl and Lord Arthur promised that they would return in a day's time. You know the rest."
Henry nodded again, his eyes calculative. He was quiet and Emma also remained silent, trying to process everything. The thought that Mary was gone was hard to accept...her sister was her best friend, her only confident.
She would get to the bottom of this, she thought.
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of her home and Emma lead the older gent inside.
"You must know more about Mary..." she whispered.
"I regret to inform you that I don't. All I can say is that stay away from Lord Graves and his son."
"I cannot! I need answers," Emma bristled.
"Do you have any suitors, my dear?" he asked wearily.
"What? No."
He spent several hours talking to her, asking about her background, financial stability etc. And Emma had a feeling that he pitied her.
She didn't like it.
"I think we should marry," he finally said.
Emma stared at him, speechless. He was older than her father had been!
"Look my dear, I loved my wife very much and after she passed, the thought of remarrying never occurred to me. I also have no children. For a year now, I have been looking for someone to carry on my legacy...not the dukedom. There is something else I do."
"What?" Emma whispered.
"I am an agent to the crown and I don't know how much longer I'll live. I want someone I can trust to take me place."
Something akin to excitement ran through Emma's veins. She'd never been able to help herself from jumping into anything adventurous. Mary would often say that that would be her downfall one day, fondly of course.
Remorse flooded her at the thought of Mary.
"You can take some time to think," the Lord said, his eyes filled with understanding. It made her want to wail and run into his arms.
"Why must me marry for that?" she asked instead.
"For the work that I do, being a noble has always helped. As my wife you will have access to the ton. And after my death, you will be very rich. You will have the freedom to do whatever you choose. We will not have a conventional marriage."
"Why would you make such a sacrifice for me? You do not even know me."
"It is hardly a sacrifice," he chuckled. "I will have something to do to occupy my time while I train you and it will be nice to leave my wealth to someone I can care about rather than some ungrateful cousin who would inherit the title."
"I could be a bad person," Emma murmured.
"You are far from a bad person," he laughed. "I haven't gotten by all these years without being able to judge people."
That made her feel marginally better.
"I will call upon you tomorrow. Think well, my dear." And he was gone, leaving Emma alone in her tiny cottage.
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