Page 57 of If I Loved You
Emma Ainsley
EMMA,
I do enjoy reading. When I have the time.
What else would you like to know?
Apologies for my brevity. Busy morning and back in session now.
L
MY LORD LINDSEY,
Seems more like cheating, if I only ask things I might wonder about, and you answer promptly and succinctly. Some things might be nice to discover, slowly, over time, much the same as I learn something new about my darling Bethany almost every day. She will be two and a half next week. I cannot believe either that I’ve been blessed for so long with her in my life or, sadly, that my sister has been gone for that long. Yet, there are times that it seems only yesterday Gretchen was braiding my hair and telling me tales of my father that I was too young to recall.
We had a fine dinner last eve. Nothing at all like that pitiful stew I once tried to feed you. Perhaps you’ll allow me another attempt, as Mrs. Smythe has now given me regular and perfect instruction, that suddenly pies and pastries and gravies seem not so inaccessible after all. Our neighbor, Mr. MacKenzie joined us, and Langdon had returned from London, that we had a fine full table and used the formal dining room for the first time. You will likely scold me for sitting to dine with what you assume are the Daisies staff, but you may not. I will not allow it (penned with no animosity, my lord, but only as a reminder) as the Smythes and Langdon, and now Mr. MacKenzie, are my friends.
Closing here as Mrs. Conklin has come now to begin to teach Mrs. Smythe and myself some needlework that hasn’t anything todo with mending. I’m picturing embroidered table linens when next we have company.
Emma
EMMA,
Young Langdon surprised me, arriving earlier than expected, and now the poor lad must sit and wait. Ah, but something is afoot, I begin to imagine, as the boy runs straight to the kitchen, even when no scent of cakes or scones can be detected, so that I think he’s quite taken with one of the Lindsey maids in the house. Hence, his early arrival and never seeming to mind the hours he sometimes must idle away awaiting my return post. Perhaps he is not idling, but working his...charm? That word doesn’t seem to fit the boy, though I can find no fault at all with his occupation and temperament.
As it stands, we’ve still a week or more to go inside the present session. Currently, it will please you to know that my yesterday was plagued by eleven hours of dubious discussion of the Protest Against the Silver Coinage. Scintillating, I assure you. Lord save me, for having heard the word ‘metallic’ spewed and sputtered no less than one hundred times then.
Should we think about employing a nurse for Bethany? Lady Marston assures me it is too soon for a governess.
Yours,
L
MY LORD LINDSEY,
Scintillating, indeed, as I saw your argument, type-set in the Times that came today with Langdon. ‘Lord Lindsey assisted the protest, reminding his fellow and fine MPs that “the bill endorsed a plan for the future regulation of the metallic currency for this country, yet was founded on erroneous views.”’ Is that, then, one hundred and one instances of the word metallic? (Now 102? Dear Lord.)
Just this morning, Bethany quite out of the blue, asked where you were, and when you might visit again. Of course, I feel completely inept, and the words seem useless to a child of not-quite-three, telling her you are very busy with important (dare I say, scintillating?) work. Nevertheless, I offer that to remind you that you have an admirer, less so a hindrance, I should hope. But no, I see no reason to employ a nurse, as I am happy to care for her myself. And we have years yet, until we need to consider her schooling and what that might entail.
That is very fine news to hear about Langdon, though he has made no mention of any sweetheart up at your London house. And just yesterday, we spent several hours together, walking to and from Perry Green, and yet he mentioned no London love at all. Regardless, I had wondered if the nearly everyday trips might be too taxing for him, even as he’d assured me that in traveling at not quite a full gallop had him in one direction in less than an hour. Hmm, even as I write now, he has come to collect this letter, seeming quite anxious to be on his way. I wonder that he can stand to wait all the time it will take for the ink to dry.
Emma
SOMETIMES, SHE RE-READhis letters, even the very briefly penned ones, not quite sure what she was looking for, yet imbued witha sense that indeed she did search for something in his words. Which then had her questioning what she might be wanting from the Earl of Lindsey. And then one day, when he’d been gone for nearly a month, and they had by now exchanged at least a dozen letters, telling only of trivial and daily amusements, Langdon came to the Daisies just in time for dinner, and handed a small envelope to Emma, who hurriedly wiped her hands on her apron and snapped the wax seal and read the very few scrawled words. Few indeed, though their impact was huge.
EMMA,
Are you, as I am, ever plagued, tortured, or otherwise accosted (often most happily) by memories of our shared kisses?
L
EMMA GASPED, NOT QUITEnoiselessly. Mrs. Smythe jerked around from the kettle over the fire, her cheeks flushed, her concern swift. “Aught amiss, my dear?”
Emma shook her head, covered her mouth with her hand, and used the other to press the paper to her chest.
“Oh, but you’ve gone as white as a ghost, Emma,” Mrs. Smythe persisted, leaving the wooden spoon inside the boiling pot and coming to Emma’s side.
“Oh, it’s fine,” Emma blathered, smiling awkwardly. “Unexpected news, that is all,” she added, when Mrs. Smythe remained skeptical and alarmed. “If you’ll excuse me just for a moment...?” She saw that Langdon had sat down at the kitchen tablewith Bethany, where Emma had been perched while she and her daughter trimmed beans for dinner.
