Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

When Emily returned to Northcott House, she was acutely aware that she had just been kissed, and felt that everyone would know just by looking at her.

Surely they would note her bruised lips, which tingled with delicious warmth? Or her hair, tousled and in disarray after Freddie had run his hands through it?

Her very being hummed with excitement and she felt thoroughly different from the girl who had exited the house mere hours ago. It was impossible that anyone could fail to notice the change in her.

"Oh, you"re back," Eudora looked up with disinterest from her book, as Emily stepped into the library.

Emily paused, waiting for her younger sister to note her seismic transformation.

"Are you going to stand there all day? You"re letting a draught in," Eudora called, without lifting her head from the page.

Emily"s shoulders slumped, perhaps her transformation had not been as great as she thought.

"Did you discover any of Ethel"s secrets?" Eudora queried, as Emily sat herself down on one of the leather Chesterfields by the fire.

The library was Northcott"s domain, and was furnished with heavy, leather furniture, and decorated in dark, masculine colours. It might, Emily thought idly, benefit from a potted plant or two--and the painting which hung above the fireplace could do with being changed from a gory battle scene, to something more palatable. A still life, perhaps.

"Oh, only that Ethel"s secret lover is none other than Sir Cadogan," Emily answered, with deliberate lightness.

"What?"

Her words had done what her presence had not, and Eudora wrenched her attention from her book to her sister.

"I followed her from Berkley Square to St George"s," Emily confirmed, glad to finally have an audience, "Where I saw the pair share a very amorous embrace."

"Yuck," Eudora made a face.

"Ethel wishes to get married, but Sir Cadogan wants to wait, for he fears it would look suspicious, given that Lord Chambers has already questioned him about the murder."

"And what did Lord Chambers have to say to that?" Eudora asked, before clapping a hand over her mouth in a futile bid to keep herself out of trouble.

"Did you tell him where I was?" Emily allowed herself a moment"s outrage, "I told you not to tell anyone where I was going."

"No," Eudora answered, keen to defend herself, "You said not to tell Mama, Jane, or Mary. You said nothing about Lord Chambers."

"It was implied," Emily retorted, but without much conviction. If Eudora had not told Lord Chambers where she was, then they would not have shared such a magical moment.

Eudora, who had been expecting a firmer reprimand, frowned suddenly. She took off her spectacles--which she wore just for show--and eyed Emily curiously from top to toe.

Emily, who had thought herself in the clear, flushed under her sister"s scrutiny.

"You kissed him!" Eudora gasped, leaping from the chair behind the desk with excitement, "Lud, Emily. Tell me everything. Was it divine? Are you going to be married at once? Oh, Mama was right--you will be a marchioness!"

"He has not asked me to marry him," Emily clarified, hastily.

"But you think he will?"

Emily nodded, as a gnawing anxiety filled her stomach. When she had left Plumpton, she had intended for her season to be nothing more than an exciting few weeks, which she might remember fondly over the course of the summer. She had not set out to find a husband, nor a new home, and she did not think she was prepared for such a big change. Plumpton was where her heart lay, not in Sussex, where Lord Chambers" marquessate lay. Yet now, at the thought of losing Lord Chambers, Emily found that her heart ached and she knew that whatever choice she made, some pain would accompany it.

If her father was there, he would tell her something wise. That change always brought some pain, but even more joy. That she would make a new home, and new memories with Lord Chambers. That there would always be a place for her in Primrose Cottage, no matter how far she strayed.

As it was, Eudora was the only one present to offer pearls of wisdom, and she wasn"t very gifted in that field.

"Can I have your bedroom if you marry the marquess?"

"Would you take my grave as quick?" Emily stuttered, aghast that she was being erased from Primrose Cottage before she had even left.

"It"s just, I will miss you terribly," Eudora adopted a pained look, "And my suffering might be eased, if I was surrounded by all your things."

"I suppose, if I was to be left alone with Mama, I might also need to be consoled by material objects," Emily agreed, and Eudora"s face fell.

"I didn"t think of that."

The sisters" tête-à-tête came to an abrupt end with the return of the very woman of whom they had been speaking. Mrs Mifford"s voice called out for them both from the hallway, and the two girls reluctantly went to find her--though only after Eudora had carefully placed Northcott"s book back in the place she had taken it from.

They found Mary, Jane, and Mrs Mifford standing in the entrance hall, though only Mary had removed her pelisse and gloves.

"There you are, Eudora," Mrs Mifford gave an exasperated sigh, as though she had been searching high and low for her for hours, "The carriage is waiting to take us to your dress fitting."

"Is Emily coming?" Eudora cast her sister a jealous scowl at not having to endure being poked and prodded by a seamstress for hours.

"Her fitting is at five o"clock," Mary answered, struggling to conceal a yawn, "Madame Rousseau is impossible to get an appointment with--we"re very lucky she managed to squeeze you both in, so no sulking."

"I never sulk," Eudora pouted, before flouncing towards the door. Mrs Mifford and Jane followed her, though the latter dawdled a bit, and once she was sure their mother was out of earshot offered Mary a supportive smile.

"I shall write to Papa, to request he travels down at once," Jane whispered, before turning to take off after the other two.

"How did things go with Cecilia?" Emily asked, as she followed Mary across the hall towards the stairs.

"We finalised the guest list," Mary waved the sheafs of paper she held in her hand, "Somehow we managed to whittle it down to acceptable numbers. Mama insisted it would be neighbourly to invite Mrs Canards and Mrs Wickling, seeing as they are in town, but I can"t help but feel she simply wishes to show off the splendour of Northcott House"

"I"d well believe that her motivation is more about inspiring sour grapes, than true neighbourly affection," Emily agreed.

"She won out, in the end," Mary frowned, looking down at the paper in her hands, "I just need to give this to Bentley then he will write the invitations--he has a most elegant hand--and send them out with the footmen. Where has he got to?"

The butler, Emily guessed, was in his office on the far side of the house. As Mary gave a wide yawn, Emily realised that now was as good a time as any to add Ethel and Sir Cadogan to the list, without having to explain anything to her sister.

"You look tired," Emily said, truthfully, "Let me do that. You take yourself upstairs and have Sylvie fetch you a warming pan."

"If you"re certain?" Mary"s eyes were almost closed already, and she did not wait for Emily to answer in the affirmative, before handing over the list and drifting away to bed.

Feeling like a thief, Emily stole down the hallway to the library, where she had earlier spotted a pot of ink on the desk. A quick rummage through the top drawer of the Davenport desk produced a quill, and with a deft hand, Emily scribbled Ethel and Sir Cadogan"s names at the bottom of the list. She waited a few moments for the ink to dry, then waited a few more for prosperity, before setting off in search of the butler.

The plan to unsuspectingly lure Sir Cadogan into making a confession was going so smoothly, that Emily felt a momentary pang of worry that it would not work. She quickly pushed the thought aside, for there was no way the plan could fail with luck and Lord Chambers on her side.

Madame Rousseau kept a shop on Upper King Street, in a few finely appointed rooms, decorated in lush splendour. It was rumoured that the modiste had twenty seamstresses at her disposal, and part of her popularity amongst the ton was the speed with which she could produce a gown, as well as her beautiful designs.

After discussing the new gown with the French woman, who spoke in heavily accented English and possessed the same level of charm as Sylvie, Emily was then whisked off to a dressing room for her fitting.

The small seamstress helped her take off her dress, then slipped a muslin mock dress over her head, which she began to deftly adjust. The tiny woman was silent as she poked and prodded at Emily with pins, and Emily"s attention was caught by the sounds of other clients chattering in their respective dressing rooms.

"Take it in more about the waist," a voice boomed from the adjoining dressing room, traveling easily through the silk curtains which divided them, "I shan"t have my daughter looking dowdy on her wedding day."

"Oh, hush, Mama," a light female voice replied to the fussing.

"I won"t be hushed. I want you in a dress that reminds Mr Bunting how lucky he is to be marrying into beauty as well as wealth."

Mr Bunting?

Emily recalled the young lady that she had seen with the young gentleman at the theatre. Their relationship must have progressed quickly, if they were now engaged. A brief, unkind thought flittered across her mind, as she wondered if Mr Bunting had expedited the engagement, by acting as amorously with this young lady as he had with Lady Francesca--but she quashed it. It was none of her business.

"Mr Bunting is not marrying me for my wealth, Mama," the light voice chided, "He is marrying me because he loves me. If you wish to tar someone as a fortune hunter, then turn your brush onto Mr Fitzgibbons. I cannot believe Amelia was so silly as to accept a proposal from a man with such a penchant for gambling. He will ruin her, mark my words."

Mr Fitzgibbons had finally clinched himself a wealthy bride, Emily thought, with astonishment. Miss Gardner was, indeed, a fool to have accepted a proposal from such a reckless young-blood, but as her family"s fortune was from industry, society would approve the union between money and pedigree.

"Miss Gardner"s father"s pockets are deep enough to fund the lad," came the snorted reply, "Don"t worry about that."

Their voices dropped to low murmurs, as they began to discuss the length and fit of the gown. Emily"s own seamstress, who though quiet was extremely industrious, was nearly finished her work.

"All done, miss," the woman said, after a few more minutes of pinning, "It will look wonderful when it"s finished. Now, why don"t we get you dressed."

Emily removed the mock-dress, and the seamstress assisted her back into her day dress. Once she was presentable, she made her way from the dressing room to the front of the shop, where Mary sat on a satin covered duchesse brisée sipping jasmine tea and eating from a plate of brightly covered macaroons.

"Finally," Mary exclaimed, holding her hand out so that Emily could help her from her seat, "I"m exhausted after that."

Mary"s bump was growing bigger every day, and everything made her tired. Emily was beginning to doubt that she would last the season, such was the change in her over the past few weeks, but she kept her counsel. Mary was nervous enough about the ball, without having the added worry that she might go into labour whilst the canapés were being served.

"How was the fitting?" Mary asked, as she waved for the footman--who was holding several paper-wrapped parcels--to lead the way outside. Exhausted Mary might be, but she was never too tired for shopping.

"It went well," Emily answered, with a shrug, "We shall see when the dress is done. Did you know that Miss Gardner and Mr Fitzgibbons are engaged?"

"Yes, I think I read something about it in the papers," Mary answered, as she clambered into the carriage with help from another footman.

Once she was settled, Emily took the footman"s hand, and stepped in with ease.

"I miss that," Mary commented, sadly, "Being able to walk instead of waddle."

"Ducks waddle, duchesses..." Emily trailed off as she tried to think of a word to describe the way Mary now moved, but came up short for waddle was quite apt.

"Apparently he has a reputation as a reckless gambler," Emily continued abruptly, deciding it was safest to continue their previous topic, "It does make one wonder..."

"Wonder what?"

"If, perhaps, he did kill Lady Hardthistle?" Emily shrugged, unsure as to why she was now doubting Sir Cadogan"s guilt.

The squire had means and motive, and was the most likely of all the suspects to have murdered the baroness. Perhaps it was just nerves on her part, about the plan to confront him, which had Emily doubting herself.

"Are you still investigating the murder?" Mary asked, with a frown in her direction.

"I am not," Emily lied, having forgotten that Mary was not up-to-date--nor would she approve--of Emily"s adventures.

"Lord Chambers is investigating matters and he is keeping me informed of how things are progressing," Emily finished, which earned her an approving smile from Mary.

"I hear wedding bells," her sister sighed, her blue eyes dreamy.

"If you"re experiencing auditory hallucinations, I can have Northcott send for a doctor when we return."

The sisters spent the rest of the journey bickering between themselves, but despite this, Emily"s mind kept drifting.

Not to Sir Cadogan, or even Mr Fitzgibbons, but to Lord Chambers.

Despite all her worries and reservations, Emily could not help but feel that Mary was correct, and that the bells of St George"s would soon be ringing out in celebration for her marriage--if she could work up the courage to leave her family behind.