Page 22 of Emma & Edmund

From the corner where he had been discussing something in hushed words with the ground floor housekeeper, he snapped to attention with precision only a life-long professional could imitate. But all the training in the world didn't mask the gulping swallow he took upon seeing who had called for him.

"Miss Thompson, how are you this evening?"

"I need to see him."

The last word hadn't even finished falling from her mouth before the housekeeper, without a single sound, spun around and left poor Anthony to deal with the ardent socialite.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Miss."

"Did you hear of the evening's entertainment?" Emma whispered, leaning in close to the man only for him to lean just as far away.

"Yes," he curled his lip, disgust dripping from his pores. "To my great disdain."

"Well pack that disdain away, because I think she can help. She might know something. It would be foolish not to take advantage of the opportunity, and I need to know the correct questions to ask."

"I... I am a bit lost, I must admit."

"I need you to take me to the cottage so I may ask Lord Lockhart what I should ask the one person in this house who can help him. Is that clear enough?"

His face beat red, Anthony radiated unused rage as his voice dropped to a strained whisper.

"Now look here, Miss Thompson. It is quite impossible for you to go back there. Besides, have you considered we've already tried this?"

"Have you?"

"Coming!" He shouted over his shoulder, although Emma did not see a single person paying any mind, let alone a caller. "If you'll excuse me."

With the shortest bow she had ever seen, he darted away from her with such speed that she was left, mouth hanging wide open, before she even realized it.

Rather than risking being caught up in the crowd, Anthony had chosen a secluded side hall. Emma might not have even known it was there if it wasn't the exact escape route the housekeeper had taken just minutes ago.

As it were, his hastily departing ramrod form was almost too easy to follow.

"I'm the one who has to speak with her," Emma called to him, needing Anthony to agree, "I need to ask him what to say."

"I could relay the message."

"I should hear it from him, so there is no confusion."

"Miss, I cannot allow you to go there." As if it would stop her, the butler turned on his heel and briskly turned a corner.

"You know I've already been there!" Chasing after him, she didn't care about her volume anymore, as deep as they were in the servant's area. They all knew, after all.

"That does not mean I can permit a second time." He was beelining for the narrow stair at the end of the hall, and even Emma wasn't unmannered enough to venture to the private areas that were certainly up them.

"I'll go without you! I'll go right now and be back in time for pudding." She hadn't planned to threaten such a thing, but once it was said, she stood by it. She mostly remembered the way back to his cottage, she thought. It couldn't be too hard if the older Anthony could trek it daily.

Anthony stopped mid-step, foot still in the air. With highly trained poise, the butler straightened himself before turning to Emma fully. As one would expect from a man of his profession, his expression was unreadable but tone inarguable.

"As you well know, Miss Thompson, a young woman going to a man's door alone would be highly improper." Emma opened her mouth to retort but wasn't given the chance before he continued. "However, if it were abusinessmeeting-

"It is!"

"If it were," the admonishment for her rudeness was laced through his words, "then I suppose I can arrange something."

"Arrange? No, no let's go at once!"

"Business meetings require arrangement, Miss Thompson." What little hope Emma clung to slipped through her fingers, and her heart sank. "One hour."

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