Page 7 of A Spinster for the Rakish Duke
“I see. It does seem like there is an issue with priorities between you and your client,” Emma said before returning to her breakfast. She had not particularly warmed to the idea of a marriage in the interim, so the thought of breaking off her betrothal was one that was becoming quickly comfortable inside her mind.
Which brought Emma and her concerns back to the meeting yet to come to pass. The meeting which her aunt tried to arrange several times after Emma insisted that Mr. Dole not be brought to the house again without specifically asking her beforehand. Emma was passive at first in her deflections, but then as her aunt became more insistent, Emma, in turn, became more adamant.
Which is how they found themselves arguing on opposite sides of the guest room door, Emma trying to collect herself while her aunt pleaded her point.
“I understand that this marriage is not ideal, but consider the circumstances Emma dear. What other options do you have?”
“Would it not be best to wait? To accept that my love may never arrive, rather than to not marry for love at all?” Emma asked, voice almost pleading.
“There might be some honor in that but…” There was a tone in Aunt Barbara’s voice that Emma couldn’t quite place. It was vaguely sad, but there was more there. “But take it from me, Emma. I know what it is like to make that choice, and it's not one I want you to endure as well.”
Emma felt sadness and pity weigh heavy on her heart. She had always seen Barbara as a pillar. Maybe not as kind or as caring as other women, but a strength that could not be replicated in anyone else.
Just as she was about to open the door and reconcile with her aunt, pulled by the tight grip her family had on her heartstrings, she spotted movement out the window. When she moved to the window to see what it was, she was surprised to see Benjamin’s carriage. After the ball, he had made it perfectly clear that he had a lot of important work to catch up on in London.
Emma watched the window closely, seeing if she could gauge the seriousness of the matter that brought her brother to the house. But it wasn’t her brother who exited the carriage but instead a young man, a lean and almost diminutive lad who had to hop from the carriage. It was the urgency in which the young man ran for the door that had Emma turn to open her own.
“I think something may be wrong with Benjamin,” she told her aunt as she stood startled in her doorway.
Chapter Six
“Thank you very much, Ma’am,” the man said as he was brought something to eat and drink while he filled them in on the situation.
“Now, I know you are very concerned and excited Mr…” Emma hesitated.
“Herst. Martin Herst is the name, Miss,” the young man said nervously. “You can call me Mr. Herst, iffen you like, Miss, but I’ve not even begun my apprenticeship officially yet, so technically you can call me Martin. Or Marty, that's what my mates call me.”
Emma half-smiled. She wished she had gotten to meet this young man in better times. “All right, Mr. Herst. I know you are worried about Mr. Bradford, but why don’t you start from the very beginning and explain how you ended up coming here. Just so that my aunt and I can understand exactly whathas transpired,” she explained slowly and calmly to the excited young man.
He nodded and quickly began, slowing himself enough so he was intelligible, but he still spoke at an extremely excited pace. “Well, I am Mr. Bradford’s apprentice, or I will be his apprentice very soon. Right now, I am his delivery man, but he says I can be his apprentice just as soon as I finish reading this big, long list of books he gave me. I think he thinks I’m gonna quit, being perfectly honest, but I am already halfway through the list. Getting to be, I think, all I do is read, eat and sleep.”
Herst took a breath, “Anyways, so I’ve been living with Mr. Bradford in his apartment, so that I may do things he needs done and all that, and he says he needs to go out and get some things, papers and whatnot. And I said to him, why don’t you let me go and get them, but he was very insistent.”
“What sort of papers did he mean?” Emma asked, curious if she could possibly get an insight into the situation.
“He didn’t say, but that wasn’t that odd, truth be told, he is a very private man, Mr. Bradford. Thought his business was his own. But if he wanted to go himself, they must have been very important papers, at least that's what I figured.”
Emma nodded and encouraged Herst to continue.
“Well, that's the thing, isn’t it? He left in the evening, it would be two days ago today, and didn’t come back that night. Next day was all a mess. Spent the first half of the day sending peopleaway before I had the whip-smart idea to put up a sign. Then I checked all in his usual places to see if anyone had seen him, and nobody had. So, I came back and thought about it for a while until I saw this letter from an Aunt Barbara, and I figured if anyone would be able to help me find out where he has gone, it is his family. So, I hired a carriage driver, and now I’m here.” The young man finished with another deep breath and then slumped slightly as if he had been holding that story in all the way to the townhouse from London.
“Thank you, Mr. Herst. I think my Aunt and I will leave you to your meal while we sort out what we will do next,” Emma said, giving the young man a gentle nod that caused his cheeks to burn bright red.
Emma caught the stern look on her aunt’s face as they departed the room and knew that the normally suspicious Barbara was already mistrustful of this young man. When they entered the living room and shut the door, she was determined to confirm that suspicion.
“What do you make of the situation?” Emma asked.
“I don’t trust the young man; I can say that for sure,” Aunt Barbara was quick to reply.
“Really?” Emma pushed. “It seems like he is telling the truth to me.”
Barbara clucked and shook her head. “How come we have never heard of this apprentice before? He probably stole your brother'scarriage and came up with this story to try and get money out of us.”
“Doesn’t that seem a bit elaborate? Surely Occam’s razor would apply here?” Emma asked.
“Who’s razor?” Her aunt asked quizzically.
“Occam. He was a monk. He said that the simplest answer to a question is most likely the correct one,” Emma explained. She thought about it for a moment then spoke again. “I will have to return with him to London.”
