Page 29 of Emma & Edmund

Swallowing a thick sigh, Emma dipped into the velvet bag and pressed two coins into the woman's outstretched palm.

"Hm," Annie hummed, exaggeratingly weighing the silver in her hand. Emma didn't bother to hide her roll of the eyes, clattering a small handful on top of the two previously offered.

"Ah, there we go." With a far broader smile, the coins were safely tucked into the heavy folds of Annie’s skirt.

"Has your memory been restored?" Emma asked, jaw starting to hurt with how hard she ground her teeth. The woman was doing her absolute best to try every last ounce of patience, so much so that Emma could have sworn she tasted copper from biting her tongue.

"The tavern," Annie finally responded after the very last piece of sterling was tucked away.

"Excuse me?"

"Meet me at the tavern in town. I'll be there for dinner tomorrow, thanks to our lord's generosity, and you will join me. Answers tend to linger around the bar at that time of night."

Emma blanched, forcing down the sneer that threatened to lift her lip, swallowing hard. "And by 'you'..."

"Both you and Edmund Lockhart, of course."

Chapter 8

"That's impossible!"

"I'm sorry Miss Emma, but the message was quite clear. We both must go."

Emma hadn't intended to see Edmund again that evening, had planned to leave a detailed note in the hands of Anthony for the express purpose of not needing to travel to the cabin again. She had already destroyed any chance of having a successful evening and exhaustion weighed on her bones.

Margaret had disappeared, likely sequestered in some corner, patiently wading through a conversation with a drunk suiter. Danny would be near, of course, not like the vanished Jonathan.

This was the reason proper chaperones were necessary. Should Jonathan have bothered, she may never have fallen into Edmund's world in the first place...

"Miss Emma."

Holding back a yelp of shock, Emma could barely keep herself from stumbling back into the door she had just closed behind her, Annie still within. Just behind the swing of the door, Anthony stood, arms behind his back, looking entirely unbothered that he had just stolen years off of her life.

"Mr. Anthony," Emma quelled the hissed tone she wanted to use. "Why in the world are you skulking through the halls, hiding in shadows? You nearly killed me."

"The Master requests to speak with you."

It was becoming increasingly difficult to not unleash the groans each development of the day had brought up her throat.

"Send my apologies, but I cannot return to the cabin today. Although, I do have...well, it's not so much information as instruction. If I can send a note-"

"He is in the house."

"Excuse me?" Whatever decorum she had been trying to maintain was tossed with the shrieking words that came from her at the news. "Is he insane? You must be joking - where is he?"

"He has asked for your presence in his study. A business matter, of course."

Despite his dedication to the lord of the house, it would still be far too improper to allow privacy between Emma and Edmund without that qualifier. But propriety was the farthest thing from Emma's mind, having already turned on her heel to dash out of the cramped hallway.

She knew where the study rooms were, had seen some of the older men retreat to the oak-lined hallway during some of the rowdier nights. During the days, groups could be seen coming and going while the festivities tamed. After all, being away from London does not make the business and responsibilities there cease.

What should happen if one of those old men wanted a late-night cigar, taking refuge from the giggles and chatter in the quiet rooms?

What if a pair of lovers dared to sneak away, only to be met with what they would only describe as a monster?

Hiking up her skirts, Emma darted even faster, ignoring the calls from acquaintances and friends alike as she bolted through the more populated rooms. How did he get in without being spotted?

Off the gallery, the long, dark hall to the studies was barren of old men and lovers, but the fact failed to halt Emma as she ripped open each of the four doors, seeing nothing but desks, books, and plush furniture beyond. No roaring fire, no readers, and most of all, no Edmund could be found.

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