Page 5 of Tempting the Earl
As she looked around at the gardens and the woods beyond, it gave her a comforting sense of security knowing that she was safe in her anonymity as one of Yorkleigh’s many maids on the vast estate. No one would bother her here and she would find contentment. She was determined not to give in to defeat.
It was wonderful to breathe fresh air and she could not seem to get enough of the sweet smells as she continued to work. Emily wondered absently if she would ever be able to forget the horrendous stench of the asylum or become accustomed to clean air again. She could not stop herself from continuing to take deep gulping breaths of the clean air so in contrast to the pungent odours she’d had to deal with for so many weeks.
She was delighted to be working in a garden again after so long, but she had quite forgotten how much work it could be and was feeling the consequences all over her weak body. Spending so much time in the tiny cell had weakened her, she realized as she felt the strain of bending and pulling. She struggled to continue, not wanting to be labelled as lazy, trying to please the cranky Henri.
The work began to feel progressively harder and Emily was beginning to suspect she was not going to make it when her nemesis showed up to survey her accomplishments. His wizened old face gave away very little of what he was feeling, and Emily held her breath to see what he would say. He looked carefully at her results and appeared slightly impressed with the amount of work the ‘tiny female’ had been able to accomplish. He grunted his approval and told her to report back to him early the next morning. Emily took that as a dismissal and gratefully slipped away to the kitchen to beg a snack from the cook’s helper before searching out Mrs. Simms to see what she was to do next. It was a very exhausted young maid who slipped gratefully into her bed early that evening and a deep, dreamless sleep claimed her as soon as her head settled onto her pallet.
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Emily’s young mind and body soon adjusted to the routine of gardening with Henri in the mornings and working in the library under the direction of Mr. Dale in the afternoons. Her cheeks were soon blooming with a healthy colour reminiscent of the roses she tended under Henri’s gimlet eye. Emily discovered that the cranky old gardener had a soft spot under all that crust and they came to an understanding of one another. He soon forgot she was one of the hated she-people he so distrusted and accepted her into his circle of friends. Emily, in turn, was delighted by his gruff sense of humour and basked in the joy and camaraderie she found among the staff at Yorkleigh. No one asked too many questions, it seemed many had secrets of their own, but they were a close-knit group nonetheless, and Emily found that the bruises on her heart were slowly healing. As her body adjusted to the heavy workload, her mind was recovering from the ordeal and turmoil she had been through. Her previousjoie de vivrereturned and it was an open, happily smiling face that met Philip as he entered his library upon his return to his estate after an absence of some days.
Chapter Five
Philip was in the nearest thing to a rage he had ever experienced. His mind was preoccupied with the unexpected emotion as he sauntered into his previously male sanctum. He had been in London for a week, and had found himself to be bored. This was becoming a problem for him. In his entire life he had never before experienced such an overwhelming sense ofennui, and it seemed to be worsening.
He had always been content, being aware of his blessed lot in life and all that it entitled him to. He had always been comfortable with his position in the upper ranks of Society, what his wealth and title granted him, as well as the way lesser mortals toadied to him because of that same position. He had enjoyed the freedom of having every exalted door opened to him, most men envying him, and most women being available for his entertainment. But it was all beginning to pall and he was finding the experience highly unnerving.
His regular associates were becoming bores, the endless round of social engagements and sporting events were bordering on deadly dull. Even his formerly favoured dens of questionable conduct were beginning to pall. It was dreadful! On top of the boredom, he was angry that his previously excellent existence was no longer quite so fulfilling.
The only thing that interested him of late was being on his estate looking after all the varied business connected with the earldom, which he had previously left in the hands of stewards and solicitors. Now he found himself wanting to take more control over the business.I am becoming staid, he thought with disgust. Next he would be wanting to set up his nursery and bounce babies on his knee! Even though he had recently begun thinking about the need to secure the succession and beginning the arduous task of securing an appropriate countess, he had never considered that he might actually enjoy becoming domesticated. The thought made him shudder in revulsion first and then set off an interesting reverie about just such a situation. Thus was his unsettled state of mind as he entered his library only to come upon the cherubic face of his charming maid.
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Emily’s mind was elsewhere and she yelped in surprise when his lordship walked into the room. His face was a study in contradicting emotions and she was surprised to see him actually displaying feelings, since her previous impressions of him were somewhat cold and proud despite the few kind gestures he had shown her. The last thing she would have expected if she had ever given it any thought was to see him looking so angry and yet sheepish.What a contradiction the man is, she sighed to herself as she straightened from the obligatory curtsy she had executed upon his entrance.
What could he possibly have to be so grumpy about? Emily wondered silently as she waited expectantly for the earl to say something. The two stared at each other non-plussed for a brief moment, which felt like an age to Emily. She grew uncomfortable with the silence and had to break it. “Welcome home, my lord. Was your journey successful?” she enquired politely.
“No, it wasn’t,” he answered shortly. Philip felt foolish for snapping at his maid, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from taking out his bad humour on her. He had never experienced feeling unsure of himself in all his twenty-nine years and the experience was one he could quite happily do without. Not wanting to prolong his exposure to the unsettling maid while in his current state of mind, he attempted to rid himself of at least one irritant.
“What exactly are you doing in my library, might I ask?” he questioned haughtily.
Not at all put out by his attitude, Emily replied, “I am working on the catalogue of your library for Mr. Dale and attempting to figure out an acceptable order to place your volumes of poetry. I’m debating between writer and subject classification. What do you think, my lord?”
Quite taken aback at being questioned about literature by a servant, Philip merely mumbled incoherently in reply while wondering how to get rid of the unwanted distraction. He rolled his eyes at himself in disgust at his own wishy-washy behaviour.
I am the earl in this house; I can make the rules! I can just tell her to leave, he reminded himself before he suited thought to words.
Philip could see that Emily bristled at his command but he was disappointed to watch he tighten her lips as though to keep an impertinent reply from escaping. He was spoiling for a fight and would have welcomed an argument. Sadly, she contented herself with replying politely, if inanely, “As you wish, my lord,” as she let herself quietly out of the room after dropping another brief curtsy.
Philip was disappointed not to be more pleased to have the room all to himself. He realized he was acting irrationally and had no idea what to do about it. He concluded hereallyneeded a drink.That ought to solve everything,he thought derisively and ironically as he settled into his comfortable chair by the grate and filled his glass. He rolled his eyes once again at his own foolishness as he tossed the first one back, realizing it was going to be a futile attempt.
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Several weeks went by and Philip noted Emily growing more comfortable and confident in his home. It was odd because he rarely thought about his servants’ state of mind. As time passed and they each became used to one another, she ended up having many intelligent discussions with Mr. Dale as she reported to him regularly on the progress of her work in the library. He would often overhear them discuss the various works of literature and research she had come across, and James soon forgot he had been uncomfortable in the young woman's presence. The young maid was surprisingly knowledgeable and they enjoyed debating various scholarly issues as they worked together.
Lord Yorkleigh was surprised to see his normally reserved secretary engaged in animated discussion with the young maid when he walked into his library one afternoon. His entry must have been quite silent, as neither noticed his presence. Philip stood quietly enjoying the spectacle before him. James had removed his spectacles and was gesturing emphatically with them in his hand as punctuation while Emily's flushed countenance and gleaming eyes showed her enthusiasm for the debate.
Philip had again been absent from the estate for a couple of days and had missed the routine he was growing to enjoy so much as he took up more of the workings of the earldom. And he was uncomfortably aware that he also missed the disturbing presence of the beautiful young maid now in heated debate with Mr. Dale. It was obvious from the exchange he was eavesdropping on that the two had grown quite comfortable with one another and were enjoying the mental stretch they each caused the other. Philip was fascinated by what he was hearing.
"But surely, Miss Emily, you cannot really think Sophocles is better than Shakespeare!" Mr. Dale demanded incredulously while raking his hand carelessly through his ever-unruly hair.
"I can and I do!" Emily declared with an emphatic gesture of her own. "Actually, if you think about it, Mr. Dale, they are really quite similar. Both wrote for the common people. And while Mr. Shakespeare managed to suit his plays to multiple levels of society, when you read Sophocles in his original language you can see that his turn of phrase is really quite superior to that of Mr. Shakespeare."
"You read Greek, Emily?" he asked in obvious amazement before regretting his interruption of the tirade he had been so enjoying, since it very quickly came to an end. He had started to suspect she had been well-educated, but this was even more extensive than he had thought.
Emily jumped in surprise. She let out a squeak as she whirled around to face him and hastily executed her curtsy.
"Just a little, my lord," she answered in a shy tone, the deep red of her face showing she was embarrassed to be caught in the middle of such an intellectual argument. "I suppose your lordship will need some privacy to speak with Mr. Dale. Good day, my lord, sir," and she curtsied herself from the room in a rush.
