Page 15 of Emma & Edmund

Reason told her to run. This was alien,a man and a beast combined in one, and she was a fool to believe him.

Instinct said otherwise.

"Would you like some tea while we wait? I might have some wine here, too, if you're in need."

Perhaps it was all right to listen to instinct just this once.

"I would love some."

For all of Edmund's visual faults, bad conversation was not among them. Within an hour, she had learned of his preference for Chaucer over Milton, had argued Ivanhoe chose incorrectly, and gushed over the last Beethoven she saw.

"It hardly mattered he wasn't in attendance," Emma said with a flippant wave. "The power, the passion - it is like a storm contained within a single room."

It didn't matter to Edmund that the words she used then were the abridged opinion of a columnist she often read.

"Really? I cannot even imagine!" Almost every word he spoke was overbearing, as if he didn't know how much he bellowed. "Anthony will commission the local bands for birthday parties and such, but I have read about this man and his way with music. I should very much like to listen one day."

Taking a sip, Emma thought of the facts he left out. That those bands might have played in the house, but if her assumption was correct, they did not know he was there just as much as they didn't know the Symphonies.

True to his word, as the ever-easing rain tapped against the windows and the sky beyond began to lighten, Edmund stood and gathered their wine glasses. Setting them gently next to the deep copper sink, he turned back to her, face laced with reluctant finality.

"I suppose we should get-"

He was cut off by a tapping on the door. So light, it was almost softer than the heavy rain pounding on it just an hour ago, but it sent Emma's heart to her throat, nonetheless.

"Oh, good Lord," she blurted, pushing away from the table and scrambling from her chair. "We must hide."

"Why would we do that?" Edmund hadn't even seemed bothered by the knock, only watching Emma dart across the room, ducking into the bedroom.

"Because," she peeked around the frame, "someone is at the door. You'll be found, I'll be caught, and there will be disaster abound."

"Oh!" A beaming smile broke over his cheeks, crossing the span of the cottage in three long steps, stopping at the door. "No need to worry-"

"You should be as much as me!"

"-because," the word held a twinge of humor, "we aren't the only ones who know of this place."

Before she could retort, he had taken up the doorknob and whipped open the wood with a little too much force, sending it bouncing against the wall. With a flourish of both hands, he presented the new arrival as if he were unveiling the magnificent end of a magic show, the smile still plastered across his face.

Opposite Edmund's theatrics, the doorframe held a long faced and weary butler.

"See?" Edmund laughed. "Nothing to worry about! It's only Anthony."

Squeezing his eyes shut against his master's loud words, Mr. Anthony let out a tight sigh before responding. "So, this is where you have been, Miss Thompson. I should have known."

"And you've arrived just on time," Edmund clapped his man on the back. "We were just about to head out."

"We? Surely you weren't planning on walking through the front door."

"Oh stop, what was I supposed to do? She couldn't just stay here indefinitely."

"You're right on that account. She's been here far too long already; half the house is convinced I'll be bringing home a corpse." With a shake of his head, he turned to Emma. "Come along now Miss Thompson. I'm sure your brother will be happy to see you."

"Oh? You've hidden the brandy then?"

Stifling a chuckle with a professional cough, Mr. Anthony turned on his heel. "We'll depart then. The physician is on his way, so we will meet him at Belmont."

He had already taken several steps up the path by the time Emma had realized what happened and scurried to the door. Still beside the open frame, Edmund watched her with an intense look she couldn't quite decipher.

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