Page 90 of Emma & Edmund

"Oh, Heidi," Emma stopped her, "perhaps something a bit more...durable."

There was a brief pause before Heidi spoke again; Emma could practically see her connecting the dots in her white-haired head.

"Durable for traveling?"

Emma's gut dropped. Her maid, as sharp as she was, had decoded the situation in a matter of seconds. The only thing that soothed her was, to Heidi, the man waiting for Emma was her actual father, not the demon sire of the unusual man she loved.

"Yes."

"And for...how long will you be traveling?" As she spoke, Heidi looked through the hung clothes, searching for the best option.

"I do not know." Her voice cracked around the words, choked up with emotions.

She watched as Heidi turned back to her, hands clutching a thick maroon riding dress, eyes glazed with unshed tears. She watched as the loud gulp moved down her throat.

"Is it worth it, Miss Emma?"

Despite the danger laid out before her, despite how close Heidi was to figuring it all out, despite plummeting off the edge of ruin, Emma smiled. Out of everything, this was what she was most sure of.

"To try alone makes it all worth it. I promise. And if I fail, I'll be back soon."

Moisture slipping past her maid's eyes had Emma's gut-twisting that much further, allowing the dress to slip over her head.

"And if you succeed, may I - someday - join you?"

A bubble of a sudden sob burst from Emma's lips, the question just as unexpected as her reaction.

"I...I hope so." Her words formed around the cries she desperately tried to reel in. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to run into the woman's arms as she had all her life, when comfort was needed. “But Heidi, please speak of this with no one. If anyone, even Father, asks, say you have no idea where I’ve gone.”

“But why, Miss?” Heidi’s eyes narrowed, confused. “If your father is taking you there…”

Realization dawned in the woman’s eyes, and Emma flinched from the truth. It was unlikely Heidi knew each detail, but knew enough of the deception to gulp audibly, eyes wide and wet.

“Are you safe, Miss?”

“Yes,” Emma answered without thought, smiling despite herself, “and I promise, I will come for you as soon as I am able.”

"Well then, if you swear it," Heidi wiped away the tears she shed, content in her mistress’s promise, "allow me just a moment to put together a proper bag for you. No offense meant, Miss, but you won't make it the night with a handful of scarves and some stockings.”

She didn't need to wait for Emma's response, having already pulled a much larger trunk from the bottom of the closet. Throwing a good portion of Emma's clothing inside, she made sure there was a little bit of everything.

Clicking it shut, the older woman could hardly set it upright, struggling against the weight of her packing endeavor. "I'll bring your…father up here to haul this down for you. It's the least he can do, taking you away from me. And…”

“Yes, Heidi?”

“Good luck, Miss Emma.”

Emma didn't quite know what to expect when Molek in Gerald Thompson's form stepped into her room, but it wasn’t the eerily uncanny copy that burst through her door with far more vigor than Gerald had possessed in years.

From the tip of his riding boot to his bushy mustache, Molek had truly done a fantastic job at the imitation, but she had never seen her father don such a broad, wicked grin.

Heidi regarded her imposter employer with wary eyes, but said nothing.

"Let's depart, Emma," even Molek's voice was as close to her real father as imagined. It was unnerving that he had been around for longer than just that morning. At least enough to know how her father talked, looked, and even walked.

If there was one major flaw to his performance, there was no way in this world that Gerald Thompson would be able to lift her trunk with one hand, easily hauling it over his shoulder, as Molek had.

The next time he spoke, the imitated voice began to slip. "We are running behind schedule."

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