Page 42 of If I Loved You
Emma took a deep breath and lifted her gaze to Mrs. Conklin. “Honest to goodness, it was as wonderful as it was awful.”
The housekeeper and the butler smirked at this.
“That’s probably the general perception,” Mrs. Conklin said.
ONE WEEK AFTER HERreturn from London, in which time his seat in Parliament kept the earl often away from Benedict House, Emma was informed—via Thurman, as was usual these days—that the transaction was completed, and the house had been readied for her immediate occupancy. Emma took this to mean,Leave, now.
Having not a whit of belongings to pack aside from one borrowed valise for their newly purchased garments, Emma had hastily and happily replied to Thurman that she was ready now to depart. If the butler were surprised by this announcement, he gave no pause, but nodded affably and told her he’d have the carriage brought out front.
Hence, Emma and Bethany, having said their goodbyes to Mrs. Conklin and several of the maids, had climbed into the open carriage and had left Benedict House without a backward glance. Mrs. Conklin had fretted at their leaving, wondering that she shouldn’t wait for his lordship to return from London. As Peter and the carriage waited, Emma had only pretended not to hear this and climbed inside, with Bethany wanting to do her own climbing and sit upon her own seat. And so she did, and Emma and Bethany waved merrily at those few staff members come to the yard to see them off.
Twenty minutes later, she stood inside her new home, still mystified by her good fortune, silently blessing Michael Benedict for the beautiful person that he was and praying—half-heartedly—that she might never see the present earl again. She thought she might have come upon Henry, the caretaker, but found the odd little man nowhere about.
Needing then to be busy, Emma carried Bethany up the stairs and made decisions about what rooms to take and searched for and found fresh linens for the beds. She thought it a good time for Bethany to graduate from the cradle to the child’s bed in the front bedroom, and chose for herself the bedroom next to that, facing the east. She liked sunshine upon her first thing in the morning and had been fortunate to have had this arrangement at the King’s Arms Inn formerly. As it had previously been her profession, it took Emma no time at all to make the beds, even while she kept one eye on a very curious Bethany, exploring her new surroundings. She worried for a moment about the effect of these recent upheavals upon so small a child, but considered Bethany’s perpetually cheery mood, and was reminded again of dear Mrs. Smythe’s idea, that a child took its cues from the adult and if she portrayed happiness and strength, so too would the child.
When this task was done, they explored the first floor more, Emma surprised to find that the larder and pantry had been stocked, and fresh vegetables and fruits sat in various bowls and baskets upon the cutting table in the middle of the kitchen. Picking up and squeezing briefly a tomato, testing its firmness, Emma turned then rather sharply at hearing the kitchen door open. She relaxed immediately upon finding Henry in the doorway, hisknees bent in such a way as to suggest they were ready to sit, even if the whole of him were not.
“Good day to ye, Miss,” he addressed her. He then spotted Bethany, trying to scamper upon a high-legged stool near the cutting table. “And a little miss, too.”
“Hello, Henry,” said Emma and introduced Bethany only by name. She was unfamiliar with this protocol; did she need to give Bethany’s history to persons to whom it shouldn’t matter?
“I thought mayhap tomorrow I’d take ye into the village, show ye where ye need to be to make yer purchases for this and that and whatnot,” he offered.
Emma’s brow crinkled. “Henry, do you not move on with the family who previously owned this cottage?” She feared what his answer might be because Emma certainly hadn’t monies to pay for his time or work.
“It were arranged by yer earl that I stay with the Daisies, Miss, perhaps for just a few weeks to see ye settled.” he answered.
This came as happy news to Emma, and she wondered at the earl’s thoughtfulness in this regard. Seemed rather uncharacteristic of him. Quickly, she determined that was uncharitable of her and pushed those thoughts out of her head. “I’m happy to have you for whatever time, Henry, and hope not to be an inconvenience to you.”
But Henry only waved her off, watching Bethany and her continued efforts to gain the seat of the stool. “Part of the deal, miss, whether yer trouble or not.”
“Oh...well, that is good,” Emma said, but then caught the old man’s smirk and breathed a little easier. Briefly, she considered that she should ask the earl of the specific arrangement with Henry, to clarify.
And just as his name scurried through her mind, his image appeared before her, standing at the same doorway through which Henry had come.
“Aye, there ye be, milord,” Henry said, by way of greeting. “I’ll be off then, Miss. Until tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Henry,” she called as he left the cottage, nodding to Zachary Benedict as he moved by him. She wished Henry might have stayed—the look on the earl’s face spoke clearly of his displeasure, though she could only guess at its cause.
He spoke immediately and brusquely. “I felt you had left London with some air of enmity between us. I didn’t—I do not—care to have it remain.”
And just when she thought she might latch onto that olive branch, he spoke again, giving her reason to assume he actually did enjoy the hostility.
“But then I’d ridden hard from London at the first break we had, and found you had left Benedict House, without so much as a by-your-leave.”
Emma bristled, at both his tone and his words. Nearly through clenched teeth, she spoke before truly thinking better of it. “My lord, I was not aware that I owed you anything at all. I hadn’t been informed thatyour father’sbequest came with attached strings.”
This only seemed to perturb him yet more. “Common courtesy alone might have insisted upon some thoughtfulness, perhaps at least waiting until I returned before you left.”
“And you came here now to enlighten me in this regard?” Why—dear Lord, why!—did this man provoke her to this degree of hostility?
But this last bit of unkindness appeared to invoke no rebuke. For just the space of a moment, he appeared rather nonplussed. This, in turn, softened Emma’s frigidity. Truly, she owed him not this animosity.
Emma drew in a deep breath and began anew. “I’m sorry, my lord. I certainly don’t owe you such shrewishness. I do apologize. We seem ever to be at odds. Perhaps I only assumed I would for certain be seeing you again. My excitement that the cottage was ready for us overrode...my good sense.”
By now, Bethany had successfully reached the prize of the stool top and sat herself at the cutting table, pounding the flat of her hands upon the wooden tabletop in her joy. Apparently, her pains to reach this height were so great that she hadn’t even heard the earl and having been at the opposite side of the table, she had not seen him, and now her eyes lighted on him with glee. She lifted her chubby hands and clapped them together at the sight of the earl.
His scowl, so often present in the company of Emma, eased immediately upon seeing the child, and then yet more when he saw her enthusiasm at seeing him. “Hullo, moppet,” he said and strode to her and lifted her up in his arms.
