Page 17 of Emma & Edmund

Yet, the more she thought of it, the more her gut twisted. The price for her silence had already been paid, and God, as well as she, knew it.

"Mr. Anthony," she started, wringing her hands, "I wouldn't feel right accepting payment from Lord Lockhart. I very likely would still be lying somewhere in the woods without his help. I owe him my life and thus, I have nothing to tell.

Anthony eyed her without turning his head from the path. "We both know there are one or two things you could expose, should your conviction waver."

"I have no intention of telling what I know. Besides, I doubt anyone would believe me."

"Still, my nerves would be much calmer if-"

"How about this?" Emma cut in. "Should I start to feel the need to gossip, I'll come and find you to solidify my resolve."

"I will not be in London, should the need hit in a few months."

"And I am patient enough to wait long enough to send a letter."

The tautness in his shoulders did not ease, and in what felt like the next moment, the path spat them out on the lawn of Belmont. The estate towered ahead, people already dotting the sweeping balcony. They would be spotted before too long.

"Before we part ways," Anthony continued, starting across the manicured grass, "I'll have you know that Lord Lockhart has never met a person outside of our home. He has more reason than any of us to fear you, so if he trusts you, then I must too."

"You sound reluctant."

"I am very anxious for you to prove my worry misplaced."

Emma opened her mouth to retort, something about him needing not to wait long, but the words never came as a scream erupted, shooting out over the gardens and into the lawn.

"EMMA THOMPSON!"

Grace Campbell clutched at the balcony railing, nearly throwing herself over it. "Where have you been? We thought you died!"

Grace's call had summoned the hoard and there was hardly a breath's pace before the balcony flooded with people, cascading down the stairs, pulling her inside.

It was a flurry almost too much to bear. Bodies surrounded her, asking questions she couldn't answer, blending into one another. She didn't know exactly when she had been sat on a sofa, but suddenly she was there, words being thrown at her as she tried to speak, only for another voice to overpower the last.

"Give her room; give her room!" The crowd parted, thanks to a veritable army of young men who took it upon themselves to push through their amour, allowing Margaret to trot in without barrier, shooing off onlookers. "She'll answer all questions later. For now, the doctor has arrived." She extended a hand to her sitting friend. "Shall we meet him?"

The doctor's visit came and went without note, seeing her in her shared bedroom. He only asked a few questions; Did she feel dizzy? Had she eaten? After a change of her bandage, remarking on how well the first had been wrapped, he was on his way.

The walk back from the cottage took longer than the visit, and Emma felt the air suck out of the room as he closed the door behind him.

Margaret stayed with her the entire visit. In a way, she deeply appreciated the comforting presence.

Yet, in another, much deeper way, she was afraid. She had no question she could hold her secret to the crowd, but Margaret was different from them. Margaret didn't deserve a lie. And so, when her friend's expectant face turned to meet hers, the lump Emma swallowed hurt.

"Tell meeverything. What happened? You ate? Where were you? Who were you with? No one knew where you were! Everyone came back from that ride with you missing as if it was the most natural thing in the world! And then the butler demanded we don't hold a search party...honestly Emma, I cannot wrap my head around this."

Despite being her saving grace from the hoard, curiosity had not failed to seize Margaret. And looking into her deep blue eyes, full of questions, Emma's heart broke at her betrayal of trust, the lie forming on her lips.

"A woman took me to her cabin. She found me, let me rest, and fed me. She must be a friend of the Lockhart's, for Mr. Anthony was able to retrieve me right from her front door."

"Oh, what an angel of a woman!"

"Truly. I might be dead without her."

"But how could the butler know you were there? Surely there were endless places you could have been."

Emma could only shrug at her question, not having an answer herself. He had seemed exhausted showing up at Edmund's door, as if he expected her to be there but hoped against it. Did Edmund often wander the woods looking for maidens to take home?

"Well," Margaret sighed, patting Emma's knee, "I suppose not all mysteries have an answer. Get some rest, supper will be served soon, and you are sure to be the center of attention."

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