Page 43 of Tempting the Earl
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the city, the Ladies Eastwick and Merrivale were sipping tea and riffling through their old memories of all the young lords and ladies they remembered from two decades previous. They were deeply enjoying rehashing all the old gossip that they remembered fondly from days gone by. They were giggling as they recalled all the high jinx the noble Society got up to before they grew up to be staid and responsible parents and grandparents.
Lady Eastwick hooted with laughter as they remembered one incident involving a young lord who grew up to be a speaker in the House of Lords. "Do you think he ever remembers the time he got drunk and threw up on Lady Bryant? She is the Duchess of Islington now."
"Probably haunts his nightmares," giggled Lady Merrivale as she took another sip of tea.
Lady Eastwick was recalling another story. "Oh, I remember the last Season before my children were born. I was still going to some of the parties even though I was in an interesting way, wanting to put off the inevitable as long as possible. Remember, there was that gorgeous young woman, what was her name? All the young men were hot on her trail. She was a diamond of the first water with wealth and a title thrown in for good measure. And she was so sweet. Baroness Westland! That was her name. There was such a buzz about her before she married." Lady Eastwick was smiling in pleasant remembrances until she remembered more details of the story.
At the same moment both ladies realized what they had been trying to figure out.
"Why that conniving little sneak!" declared Lady Merrivale admiringly. "By Jove, we have figured it out! We must tell the king immediately!" she declared with glee as the two women stood up excitedly and rang for a footman to have the carriage brought around. This was too good to be delayed. They rushed from the house, delighted with their discovery, and anticipating the popularity they would enjoy when it became known that they had solved the puzzle.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Emily was grateful to see the countess’ groom waiting to help her down from the carriage and show her the way. The gown she and the countess had considered appropriate was not at all comfortable nor easy to manoeuvre in, and she needed considerable assistance. Once she had extricated herself from the carriage and shaken out her folds, they began the arduous task of gaining access to the monarch. The butterflies in Emily's stomach made her question the wisdom of eating. Of course, she thought, in a mental aside, it would not do to have one's stomach growl while in audience with the king. That thought made her smile in amusement and helped to quell some of her anxiety.
There were, in Emily’s opinion, an inordinate amount of people from whom she needed to gain permission to finally find herself before the large ornate doors leading to the room in which His Majesty was granting audience that day. She had been informed by somebody or other that Lord Yorkleigh was already present with His Majesty. They would not be expecting her, but this had to be done.
Emily stood before the Lord Chamberlain and drew a steadying breath. She thought of all she had been through in the past months and the changes they had wrought in her. She had gone from a naïve young girl safe in the loving embrace of her small family to a bewildered orphan upon the sudden death of both her dear parents. She knew she had been infused with all the goodness they could each give her, and they would be smiling in approval if they could see her now. Despite the choices they had made for themselves, they would want her to take her rightful place in Society and would applaud her decision to approach King George.
The Lord Chamberlain stood at the door of the king's presence chamber looking down his nose at her in a superior manner demanding to know her name and title in order to announce her to the gathered nobles on the other side of that door. Emily told him. He barely acknowledged his surprise although Emily would have sworn she had seen his eyes widen slightly despite his iron impassivity. She smiled serenely at him. He didn’t look quite so supercilious as he threw open the door and announced:
“Lady Emmaline, Marchioness of Edenvale, Countess of Spence, Baroness of Westland.”
The previous din in the King's audience chamber died a sudden death upon that announcement. Emily felt the full force of all eyes upon her as she entered the room gracefully. The sun was streaming in through the large window and she was bemused that the weather did not accurately portray the turmoil she was experiencing.If it did there would probably be a windstorm, she thought in momentary distraction. Through sheer force of will she kept a serene, gracious smile upon her face as she bowed her head and dipped into the deep, courtly curtsy she had been taught since childhood. This was the world she had been raised to enter. She was proud of herself that she did not wobble or in any other way disgrace herself or her noble heritage as she came up from the low stance and stepped towards the throne.
Edwin, or the new Viscount of Ridley, as she needed to now remember him, she thought with loathing, was there growing paler by the moment as she drew near. He was trying to gather his own courage and intimidate her with a fierce glare, but she could see the fear in his eyes and felt a moment of triumph before her own nerves nudged that aside as she considered all the explaining she had to now face.
In an attempt to cover his own perfidy Edwin went on the attack. "Emmaline, you ungrateful child, where have you been? Considerable effort has been put into finding you," he declared with venom dripping from his tones, not bothering to follow the proper protocol before the king.
Emily, on the other hand, knew she could not speak in His presence. She could not address Edwin's comments before being acknowledged by her king, so Emily made a valiant effort to ignore her cousin's effort at undermining her confidence. But it did have the effect of adding to her nerves. Emily could hear the whispers swirling around the room as she stopped before the throne and descended into another deep curtsy. She remained in that submissive position until granted permission to rise.
“Rise, my child, and tell us what you have to say for yourself. Is it true what my Lord Chamberlain just announced? Are you truly the Lady Emmaline that we have been searching for so diligently?” the king asked, somewhat incredulously but not unkindly. He was notorious for having an appreciation for beauty even if his sight was failing him. He raised his monocle to better view the proceedings and was inclined to be kind to this beautiful young creature before him even if she proved to be an imposter.
His Majesty certainly did not expect to have the missing heiress show up on her own when he’d had officials searching for her for months, so he was understandably dubious about her claim. Of course, one look at Lord Edwin would confirm that something was amiss with that gentleman. The sight of the young lady visibly shook Ridley. So the monarch was determined to get to the bottom of this mystery, which looked like it was nearing a solution.
Emily had risen from her respectful stance and was nodding graciously. “Yes, your Highness, I am Lady Emmaline,” she confirmed with pride. She had noticed an older servant cowering in the background and turned incredulous eyes upon her. “Whatever are you doing here, Mary?” she asked curiously.
Mary dashed forward and wrapped Emily in a warm, mothering embrace, her tears flowing unheeded down her ruddy cheeks. “Oh, milady, I amsoglad to see you! I been tryin’ to tell these gents how his lordship sent you away an’ all but seems nobody really is believin’ me. Now’s you’re here I guess they’ll have to believe me, eh?” Mary's tumultuous emotions had a disastrous effect upon her diction, which forced a smile to Emily's lips.
Up until this point Emily had avoided looking at Philip, afraid to see if he was angry with her; but now she had no choice and turned to him for direction in the matter. She raised questioning eyes to his face and her knees nearly buckled from relief to see that he merely looked confused rather than repulsed by her claims. He seemed genuinely surprised by the maid’s assertions that this was the Lady Emmaline for whom he’d been searching so diligently.
“Mary,” Philip interrupted, “are you saying you know this young lady? Is this the Lady Emmaline His Majesty has been searching for?” He was slightly incredulous at the thought that the object of his search had been under his nose all along. And there had been clues along the way that he had foolishly ignored he realized.
“Yes, milord, this is my lady, Lady Emily is how we call her at home. I’ve been trying to tell you that milord Ridley had milady locked up somewhere and we can’t find her.” Realizing she was no longer in danger from Lord Ridley, the old nurse had adopted a somewhat belligerent tone of voice.
“Mary, mind your manners,” cautioned Emily in a warning tone of voice. "How do you come to be here?” she questioned in warmer accents.
Mary took a deep, calming breath before launching into her tale. She was less distraught but kept a firm hold on Emily's hand; her fond heart just could not bear to lose sight of her wee one again. "The new viscount sent me away after he got rid of you, my lady. I had nowhere to turn and didn't know how to help you." She realized her dear bairn might be angry with her for not helping her more and had begun to weep again.
"Don't worry, Mary; there was nothing you could have done."
"So I went to stay with me sister up north, until his lordship, the earl, came to ask me about you. I told him all I knew, but when that was of no use, I realized I had to come and tell His Majesty meself."
Philip turned to Emily now truly confused and starting to become slightly agitated realizing he’d had the missing heiress under his roof all along, and she had kept herself hidden from him. “Emily, I mean Lady Emmaline,” he began.
“Emily is fine, if you wouldn’t mind, it was what my parents called me, unless I was in trouble,” she contributed impishly unable to repress her ready sense of humour despite the gravity of the current situation.
“Lady Emily,” Philip recommenced, “why have you kept your true identity a secret?” Before she could answer the question, Philip had turned to the king to offer an explanation.
