Page 6 of The Lady and the Footballer
“If you ever do anything to cause harm to my daughter again, you will be gone from here much quicker than you ever came, do you understand me?”
“Very much so,” he agreed.
As he left, he let out a sigh. While he did not think he would ever honestly spend time with the lovely Miss Evans, he would have liked to have seen her again.
But no woman would ever be worth giving up such an opportunity to provide for his family.
Not even a woman like her.
Chapter Three
The moment they had entered Harcourt Manor, her family’s estate which sat regally in Ellesmere Park, close enough to Manchester that her father could oversee his business interests but far enough away that they were not victim to the factory waste, Lily and Emmaline had evaded Lily’s mother as quickly as they could and were hiding in the house's bowels – in the kitchens, to be exact.
“My dear, you must put some ice on that bump,” the cook, Mrs. O’Connor, said as she gathered chunks of ice into a towel and held it out to Lily, who pressed it to her face.
“Oh,” she said, closing her eyes. “That does feel good.”
“Now,” Mrs. O’Connor said, leaning over the counter, forgetting her dinner preparations for a moment as she looked at them with interest in her eyes. “Tell me about those young football players.”
Lily and Emmaline laughed in surprise, for Mrs. O’Conner must be thirty years senior to most of the men. Such an opportunity to provide for ever so, but that didn’t stop them from sharing.
“Most of them are quite handsome,” Emmaline said, “although we already knew that from watching the games. Only,this was different somehow. We were able to get closer, and they were not moving quite so fast. They were also talking to one another, making them more human altogether.”
“What would you call them during the games, then?” Lily asked in astonishment.
“They are more like gods,” Emmaline said, her eyes round, and Lily laughed at her friend.
“Oh, Emmaline, you cannot truly believe that.”
“No,” Emmaline said with a sigh. “The truth is, it is not so much that Iwantthem but that I am jealous of them.”
“Why would you be jealous of those men?” Lily asked, blinking.
“Because of the very fact that they have the chance to play football!” she exclaimed. “You know how much I love the game, Lily.”
“I used to,” she said in all sincerity. Emmaline knew everything about the game. Every rule, every position, every play, every strategy.
“What I wouldn’t give to play.”
“You play with your brothers.”
“I do,” she said morosely, before straightening her spine. “And I am quite good, if I say so myself.”
It had been a few years since Lily had watched Emmaline play against any opponents. Still, from what she could remember, most of the games comprised Emmaline and her brothers yelling at one another as her brothers had always purposefully kicked the ball into Emmaline’s skirts. She would then curse the layers of fabric and tuck them up into the waistband of her drawers – at least until her mother caught sight of her.
That was too much, even for Lady Daughtry.
Lily didn’t want to confess it to Emmaline, but when she sat in the sun-kissed grass beside where Emmaline played, she gave more attention to her books than watching Emmaline.
It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy football. It was just that she had other pastimes that she preferred.
Out of loyalty, however, she would support her friend in any manner she spent her time.
“Emmaline, I have read about women’s leagues in the papers,” she said, picking up a piece of cake that Mrs. O’Conner set in front of them. Lily’s mother had always been so caught up in the who’s who of the world and trying to please her husband, that Lily had come to Mrs. O’Connor for the mothering she longed for.
The cook was always quick to sneak a freshly baked cookie or scone into Lily’s hand when her mother wasn’t looking. Her mother had forbidden her from eating them for fear that the bite of one cookie might increase her waist size.
“My parents would never allow me to play in a women’s league,” Emmaline said with a sigh. “Or any league, for that matter. You should hear my mother. ‘Of all the pastimes in all of England, you decide yours is football.’ She can’t understand why I am not more interested in taking up one of her causes.”
