Page 83 of Emma & Edmund

"And what of you?"

Even as Margaret tried to keep a façade of merely standing on the other end of the table, fiddling with ribbons and bows, Emma wished she could rip down the curtain between them, grab Margaret's collar, and force her to see the hurt burned in Emma's very soul.

"The others turn their back on me, and you follow suit? After everything we've been through? You are in nearly every memory I have. I could be labeled a pariah by everyone alive; everyone but you."

"Every memory?" Margaret, a crack creeping into her voice. "Somehow I doubt that."

"What do you-"

"All the sneaking around, the lies, the secrets, pretending to be sick." Her eyes shot up to finally meet Emma's, a fire burning within them. "I know that wasn't the first night you met Edmund Lockhart. I know it wasn't the first time you spent the night with him if your cavalier acting means anything.

"What did you expect me to do? Say what people were seeing plainly before their eyes was untrue? People saw you slinking off with him. Rumors were already swirling before I even knew you were gone."

Tears had pricked Emma's eyes long ago, threatening to spill over with the vitriol rampant in Margaret's words. Even as they sliced through her, truth was the only poison they were tipped with.

"And to speak honestly," Margaret continued, a sob choking her words, "yes, I am angry with you. I gave you every opportunity to succeed, paved the path with my own two hands, all for the love of my friend. But you abandoned me first. I could have helped if you were so desperate to sneak around. I could have created better lies to hide your misgivings than that poor butler, who could hardly string one mistruth to another. I could have helped keep it all hidden.

"Instead, you nearly ruined my own chances. You are a liability. And until you can tell me the truth and treat me like the lifelong friend you claim me to be, you're a liability I cannot afford."

The pointed arrow of Margaret's words pierced Emma's heart. Her lips pursed in a fruitless attempt to halt the tears welling.

"I don't know why I'm bothering to speak to you." Emma tossed the silken strand she was fiddling with back on the table, forgetting to care how much her voice could carry in the small space. The subtle glances turned to outright staring from the other shoppers. There was no doubt every gossip circle in Chelsea would know of this interaction within the hour.

"You are because I am the only one who will try to slap some sense into you." Margaret returned her fervor, and although more restrained, only added to the show for their onlookers. Curious eyes were glued to them, filled with glee.

"Oh yes, which always comes best three months after sense is lost. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Her less-than-witty retort was followed by a spin on her heel, skirts twisting around her legs almost enough to trip her. It was by sheer will alone that she managed to pull through the mess of her undergarments.

"Emma, stop." At the same moment Emma recovered from nearly tripping over her petticoats, Margaret rounded the table to stand beside her.

Her words, so close and warm in her ear, were just as effective to Emma as a grip on her arm. The same sheer will now turned to keeping Emma's tears trapped within her eyes, lest they spill out in a dramatic escalation for the stories that will be told later.

With strength only formed through desperation, Margaret forced Emma to face her again.

"Perhaps it would be best for you to...to get out of London for a while." There was care evident in Margaret's voice, making it difficult for Emma to remain angry with her.

"I have no home but here."

Margaret paused, tight-lipped.

"I think I saw a lovely scarf, in the corner over there, that I would like to look at further."

As suddenly as the turn of topic left her lips, Margaret released Emma, gliding to the wall of scarves to the far end of the shop - the most deserted place without leaving.

Not quite foolish enough to misunderstand her meaning, there was little choice for Emma but to follow. By the time Emma joined her along the silken display, Margaret was comparing several options. Acutely aware of the eyes that followed them, Emma very much tried to nonchalantly do the same.

"I'm not telling you to leave for my benefit or theirs," Margaret continued lowly, in almost a whisper, her eyes darting to the onlookers, "but for yours. There's nothing for you here."

"There's nothing for me anywhere, Margaret. Write my name in stone, for my life is over before it could begin."

"If you'd stop being dramatic for one moment, then I think you would realize that isn't true. At the very least, there is one person outside of London that I am sure would be happy to have you around."

"I haven't a clue what you mean.”

"I saw the way he looked at you. I had my suspicions before that night but couldn't quite place my finger on it. But when Edmund Lockhart finally appeared, already head over heels for you, it all finally made sense. I don't know what happened between you two, and you may never tell me, but I do know that man is in love with you. But the fact he didn't even ask for your hand is what I can't understand."

"He did," Emma admitted. She could be berated, but the urge to defend Edmund burned brightly. "He did ask me to marry him, but I denied him. He didn't even have the chance to ask my father."

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