Page 15 of If I Loved You
Zach debated if any words from him now might put her at ease, decided it was unlikely and so extended none. He reached the top of the stairs and turned right to find her rooms. The door was ajar, allowing him to give a nudge with his foot to push it fully open. He set her on to the bed, and spared her only a glance and a murmured, “Good night,” lest she think him only some mute monster, an intractable one perhaps. He supposed he was glad for the total darkness of her borrowed chamber, that he might not see what expression might have accompanied her severe posture in his arms.
He pulled the door closed as he left, closing his eyes for the space of a moment, trying to imagine what, if anything, he hoped might come of their very brief but icy relationship. Would he simply deposit her at the Daisies Cottage and be done with her? His immediate internal response to this was, it seemed most prudent. But why? Why was it prudent not to know her?
Therein, he supposed, was the real answer, that he didn’t want tonotknow her.
Maybe that was all he needed to understand right now.
THE LAST THING EMMAwanted to do was accept charity from the Earl of Lindsey, even if it were originally conceived by that greater man, Michael Benedict. But fact was fact, and she hadn’t a home, or an income, or a family, and so then had no choice but to accept that he had indeed purchased the Daisies Cottage for her and Bethany.
This morning, she was plagued by that decidedly uncomfortable remembrance of last night, when she’d woken to find herself in the earl’s arms. God’s wounds, but how could she have allowed for something so unbearably tortuous to have occurred? Never mind that his embrace, for all its utilitarian purpose, had been perceived as warm and safe and...not wholly unpleasant.Ugh.
She could not take up residence at the Daisies Cottage soon enough.
But she had a few things to take care of first. She approached Thurman bright and early one morning, holding Bethany’s hand as the babe walked in yet another pair of new shoes, courtesy of the Earl. Emma had stopped refusing, had stopped insisting, and had stopped complaining about any purchases for Bethany. There simply was no point.
The butler waited expectantly.
“I wonder if I might have use of a buggy to take into town,” she inquired of the aged man. She didn’t tell him which town, so didn’t therefore consider that she lied to the man.
“You can, perhaps, write down any items you were in need of, Miss,” he answered quite solicitously, his bushy gray brows raising a bit at this offering. “Mrs. Conklin regularly sends a footman or such to town for shopping—fresh goods, and wardrobe items, and other sundries....”
“This is to be more of a visiting nature, making calls,” she told him, while Bethany now uncurled her little fingers from Emma’s hand, plopping down on her bottom on the immaculate tile floor to look at her new shoes again.
“I see,” intoned Thurman, raising and lowering his head in a manner which Emma imagined only butlers managed to employ. “Peter would be available to drive you to your appointments, Miss.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t want to put someone out, Mr. Thurman. I’m certainly capable of handling a small buggy, pulled by any agreeable nag,” she countered with a sweet smile.
“Be that as it may, Miss, Peter will take you in to town.”
Emma considered arguing further, but judged the argument was perhaps more likely to succeed with a goat, rather than the almost formidable Mr. Thurman. “Thank you, sir.” She scooped up Bethany. “We will ready ourselves and return momentarily.”
Within the hour, Emma sat beside Peter, a man only slightly older than herself, with a pleasing personality. She held Bethany in her lap, not of a mind to further disturb the Earl’s household by once again asking Mrs. Conklin to watch after the child. She had directed Peter to the King’s Arms Inn—rather assertively, she’d thought—and if he was surprised by her destination, he gave no indication. She didn’t know what she expected to find of her old home and workplace, but she needed to see the Smythe’s and make sure they were well. Peter was indeed pleasant but not much for small talk, so Emma occupied herself with Bethany, as the trip took almost an hour. When they’d crested the last hill that would show the inn to them, Emma found herself holding her breath. But it was as she had feared, the inn was indeed still gone, only the burnt-out shell still remained; obviously norebuilding had begun, or perhaps wasn’t intended. But how would she find the Smythes?
“Miss,” Peter said, when they’d stopped still a distance from the ruins, “did ye know this was gone?”
“I did,” she answered, almost forlornly. “But I don’t know how to find my friends—my family, really—and thought I should at least start here.”
“Little Hadham would be the closest town,” Peter said after a moment. “Might they have moved there?”
Emma shrugged sadly. “I just don’t know.” She took her eyes from the King’s Arms Inn and looked at the young footman. “Would you mind driving there?”
Peter had snapped the reins over the lone horse in answer, and the gig moved again, now away from the inn. “We’ll find ‘em, miss. Never you fear.”
Little Hadham boasted not much more than a lone mercantile, a few pubs, and only one inn, all lying in the village just south of Hadham Hall, ancient seat of the Capells, and the Earl of Essex. Emma suggested they begin their search at the inn. But only a moment after making this suggestion, while Peter maneuvered the gig through the narrow road and sparse traffic, Emma spied the young stable hand, Langdon, walking down the road, heading to the pier down at the River Ash.
Excitedly, she raised herself on the seat and called happily, “Langdon!”
The young man looked left and right upon hearing his name but saw no one familiar and so continued walking. “Langdon!” she called out again. This time, he turned, and finally saw Emma—her arm flailing wildly in the air—and company bearingdown on him. He squinted but quickly recognized her. She’d not much recalled that he ever smiled, but he did now.
Langdon approached the gig just as Peter pulled up at the side of the road.
“Miss Emma! What are ye about? Are you coming back with us?” He wanted to know, his eyes hopeful.
His question enlivened Emma. “Are you all still together? Are you with the Smythes? And Alice, too?” She hoped it were true. She was encouraged by Langdon’s excitement over seeing her.
“Sure, Miss—was cheaper to share one room than have to find one yerself,” he told her. “We did stay at the stables those first few days, but it were rough. Alice never stopped crying. But Mr. Smythe and me, we came into town here to see what could be had. We all pooled our money—well those who had any—and well, at least got a real roof now. But we may have to go to another town, maybe a bigger one, to find some work... for any one of us. There’s nothing here.” And then he smiled and nodded at the three of them in the gig, having delivered all his news.
Emma was amazed, staring rather dumbstruck for a moment. Firstly, Langdon had never strung so many words together in her presence, or to anyone, as far as she knew. Next, she was surprised, though pleasantly so, that the four of them had stayed together. They really were a little family. Her eyes welled. “Where are they?”
