Page 110 of Sense and Suitability
“Ah, well. Semantics.” Aster winked and stood, leaning over to press a kiss to Emme’s head. “I’ll leave you to your packing, but I must confess—I am envious of your journey, even if it’s only to Yorkshire.”
Yes, her sister’s wanderlust was disappointed yet again. “I would prefer a very different reason to leave than this and one in which you could accompany me, I assure you.”
“I know.” She looked down at Emme, a sad acceptance on her face. “But someone must stay with Father.”
Emme nodded. “Perhaps he can come with us next time.”
“Perhaps.” Aster sighed, leaning her head against the bedpost and staring at Emme. “I will miss you terribly.”
Another pang pinched at Emme’s already bruised heart. She’d never left home without her family, and certainly never for a long a time as this was likely to be. “I will write to you.”
Aster’s brows rose in tandem. “Every day?”
Emme laughed softly at her sister’s pleading expression. “If there are interesting things to share every day.”
Aster grinned, then turned toward the door. “You know how in your books, near the end, things seem hopeless? The hero is on the brink of death, the heroine is succumbing to her injuries, and the storm threatens to bring rescue too late?”
Emme merely raised an unimpressed brow. It seemed drama ran a little too thick in the women of their family.
“But in the end, good prevails,” Aster said as she opened the door, pausing in her exit. “Truth wins. The hero and the heroine find each other.”
Emme braced herself against the fanciful notion. Simon had to make choices that would determine feast or famine for his family, prosperity or ruin for his name. “Aster, I cannot continue to hope—”
“Your heroine, Lilith,” Aster interrupted, her tone firm, “would remind you, dear sister, that there is always a reason to hope.”
And with that, Aster left the room, her statement floating in the air like a melody just out of reach of identification. Emme looked down at the book in her lap, smoothing a hand over the dark cover.
Always a reason to hope?
Perhaps that hope needed redirection, because Simon Reeves was no longer part of her future.
“Thank you for escorting Emme as far as Derby, Thomas.” Father patted Thomas on the shoulder and adjusted his glasses as he looked back at Emme, a few worry lines deepening on his brow. “I’ll feel better knowing they made it to the city without difficulty.”
“I am happy to be of service, Uncle.” Thomas tapped his hat and looked over at her, his expression a mixture of concern and kindness.
Heat swarmed into Emme’s eyes again, threatening to spill over, but she steeled herself. Perhaps the carriage would afford her some solitude for a proper cry. Clara, her ever-faithful maid, wouldn’tmind—she’d seen Emme cry more than once. Still, the shadowed quiet of the journey promised far more privacy for her battered emotions.
Father leaned close, enveloping her in a warm embrace. “It will all be all right, my girl,” he murmured near her ear, his voice steady but strained. The waterworks almost erupted then and there.
Emme pulled back just enough to offer him a wavering smile. “Of course it will. Doesn’t it always get better, eventually?”
He smiled in return, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You must write to us. We shall want to hear of your adventures.”
“I will.” Emme turned to Aster, wrapping her younger sister in a hug as well. “I’ll write to all of you. You as well, Alfie.” She ruffled his hair, knowing he did not anticipate the duty of correspondence with any excitement.
“And send our love to your uncle and his family,” Father added, as though determined to prolong the conversation, reluctant to say goodbye.
“Of course, Father.”
“And you needn’t feel obliged to stay away too long, Emme,” he continued. “We’re quite content having an authoress at Thistlecroft.”
Her tears betrayed her then, slipping down her cheeks as she pulled Father, Aster, and Alfie into another hug. “I love you all.”
They held her tightly, murmuring reassurances as if they could physically anchor her to the safety of home. After a few more parting words, Emme stepped back, her breath hitching as she turned toward the waiting carriage. Thomas stood ready, offering his arm as she approached. Clara had already settled herself inside.
Before climbing the first step, Emme paused and turned back to Thomas, a small package tied with string clutched in her hands. “I finished the book.”
He blinked, his brows lifting. “The new one?”
