Chapter 5

A week had passed since the Beaufort Ball and without any further information on the India shipment, Emmaline grew more and more anxious by the day.

The tension in the house was growing. She could feel it all too well. Her elder brothers spent much more time away from the house, taking to their lodgings in the row or whichever tavern they had chosen to drink in that night. Emmaline thought them entirely foolish. Though once or twice they brought news that they had won a small fortune between friends playing cards, Emmaline was almost certain they drank more than they had won.

And even her younger siblings seemed to be picking up on the mood in the house, crying more often and refusing to play no matter how fun the game.

Even Jane, who had no head for business, had begun to pick up on the family problems.

"Do you really think it is as bad as they are making out?" Jane asked one morning in the drawing room, whispering the words not seconds after her mother had left the room in a terribly dark mood.

Emmaline gulped. She suspected the trouble was even more dire than Jane had picked up on. Though the cracks were beginning to show, Emmaline had a great admiration for the strength of her parents and how they had managed to keep things a secret for this long.

She wasn"t even sure that her elder stepbrothers knew of the problems the family faced. She couldn"t imagine so as they would never be so frivolous if they did. But she, as the natural born daughter of an earl and businessman, was party to it all.

She knew the pressure her father was under to keep wealth coming in and keep a roof over all of their heads, to pay the workers on his estate in the country and keep that house running as well, to keep his tenants happy and his business partners sated.

It was a lot to juggle, and Emmaline had begun to notice the first signs it wasn't going well several days prior. Since the ball, her father seemed more and more lethargic, his skin beginning to sag on his face as if he had not been taking care of himself. She had noticed how he picked over his food at mealtimes even if the rest of the family hadn"t.

Reaching out, Emmaline squeezed Jane"s knee affectionately and said, "However bad it is, I"m sure all will work out in the end."

As she spoke, a hard and painful lump swelled in her throat. The distinct sense that she was lying to her sister and to herself was quite uncomfortable.

"You would tell me, wouldn't you?" Jane said, her eyes brimming with sisterly affection. "If something terrible was happening?"

Guilt tightened Emmaline"s throat further. She gripped hold of her sister and pulled her in tight for a hug. "Of course I would."

Closing her eyes behind her sister"s head, she prayed again that the India shipment might arrive today. It had been over a week since their last communication. She couldn"t remember the last time it had been so long.

"You should get on with your needlework," Emmaline suggested when she released her sister. "I shall go and see what I can learn from Papa."

She gave Jane one final squeeze on the knee before she stood and made her way from the room.

It appeared she had exited at just the right moment for she saw the butler wandering towards her father"s downstairs office.

"Ruperts! Please, I can take that in," Emmaline called after him, hurrying down the hall in a most unlady-like manner.

Ruperts turned with a knowing smile and dipped his head, offering her the letters from his silver platter. "Of course, My Lady. Might I bring you anything?"

"No, thank you, Ruperts," Emmaline smiled from ear to ear. She needed nothing else but the letter on the top of the pile that she recognized immediately for the handwriting upon the envelope. Captain Morgensten"s writing was most difficult to read but she had grown used to it over the various reports sent and just seeing it now filled her with hope.

"Thank you, Ruperts," she said again, waiting for him to bow and leave before she made her way to her father"s study.

Rapping her knuckles delicately on the hardwood, she listened for her father"s response.

"Come in!" he called. Even his voice sounded tired and some of Emmaline's hope faded.

Gulping hard, she entered the room with a smile. "Papa, news has come!"

At that, her father jumped up from his desk and rushed around to meet her in the center of the room

The way he bounced on his heels suggested he was as hopeful as she.

Grabbing his golden letter opener from his desk, he tore off the wax from the back of the letter and unfolded it. It seemed he skimmed the letter, reading faster than ever before, lips moving in silent reading as he did so.

And Emmaline watched the light go out of his eyes.

His hand clutched to his chest. "I… I don"t believe it," he stammered, reeling backwards.

Fearing he might fall, Emmaline hurried forward and gripped his arm to guide him to the nearest armchair.

"Papa? What is it? Whatever is the matter?"

Her father did not respond. He simply shoved the letter at her, placing his head in his hands.

Frantic, Emmaline gripped the letter and turned it over and over until she once more found the right orientation. And as she read it, she wished she hadn"t.

"This… it cannot be! Surely, this cannot be!" she cried, tears pricking her eyes.

"The shipment is lost," her father said, his voice little more than a croak. "Captain Morgensten barely made it back to shore alive."

She had read the letter. She knew all it contained, yet she did not stop him from repeating the contents. It seemed all he could do to help the information to sink in and in truth, Emmaline needed to hear it aloud also.

She hoped he would continue but instead, he said, "Emmaline, read it to me aloud. Be sure I have the measure of it correct. My old eyes are not what they used to be."

Emmaline cringed. She did not wish to say the words aloud. The guilt was already eating her up inside. This was all her fault.

Still, she cleared her throat and tried her best, "Lord Richard Moreau, Earl of Monrith, I write you with the gravest of news," Emmaline read, her throat tightening, "Earlier this week our ship was besieged by a terrible storm that tore the ship asunder and the shipment with it. Everything from mast to cargo is lost to the seven seas.

I mercifully washed ashore somewhere in the driving waves but many of my crew have been lost to me.

I am truly sorry, my lord, that there was little I could do to prevent such a terrible incident.

I intend to make my way back to London as soon as I am recovered. Until then, I pray for you, for your family and for all the souls lost in our endeavors," Emmaline paused and gulped before finishing, "Yours Sincerely, Captain Merrick Morgensten."

By the time she had finished, Emmaline"s hands were trembling so badly that the paper had begun to rustle.

"Then it is as I feared," her father sighed, hanging his head. "Our greatest triumph is to be our most significant failure."

Emmaline"s stomach twisted so painfully that she had to bite back a moan. Covering her mouth with her fingertips, she took a deep breath to compose herself before she said, "Perhaps some of the cargo will wash up and we shall be able to recover it?"

Hope and denial of failure were all Emmaline had left to combat the terrible feeling inside her. It did little for her when her father snatched the letter from her hands in a most uncharacteristic manner and grunted, "Leave me."

"Papa, I—"

"I said, leave me!"

Emmaline could not bring herself to face Jane again. She couldn"t bring herself to face anyone and so, she crept up to her room, frantically unlaced and kicked off her shoes and threw herself down onto her bed. Screaming into the decorative pillows, she lost herself for a while in her guilt, grief and distress, her heart aching with the reminder of how quickly her father had dismissed her from his study.

The words shipment lost rang over and over in her mind, twisting her insides into knots and making her head hurt with the tears she cried. And when they had all dried out and her throat felt as if it had been filled with sand, she finally rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

That is when she heard the scream.

At first, she thought she had imagined it. When it came again, she was immediately off her bed, rushing for the bedroom door.

"Help! Somebody help us!" the shrill and terrified voice of her stepmother was unmistakable. It was coming from down the stairs.

Grabbing her skirts, Emmaline ran. Taking the steps two at a time, she reached the bottom to find servants rushing from all corners of the house.

"Jane! What is going on?" Emmaline asked, finding her sister in the doorway of the drawing room.

Her sister was staring in horror down the hall, her handkerchief gripped over her mouth to hide her gaping.

Slipping between the rushing servants to reach her sister, Emmaline turned to look down the hall in the direction of her father"s study.

And the second she saw the scene unfolding before her, her blood turned to ice in her veins.

Spread on the floor, pale as death and eyes rolled back in his head, was her father. Ruperts was crouched over him, fanning his face while her stepmother held her father"s head in her lap.

"Please, someone fetch for Doctor Fields!" the countess cried.

"My Lady, we must get him to his bed," Ruperts instructed.

"No! You cannot move him."

"I understand, My Lady, but he cannot remain on the floor if a doctor is to examine him," Ruperts said softly. Emmaline"s stepmother appeared frantic, and she knew that if such behavior continued, it would not end well for her father.

Acting quickly, Emmaline rushed down the hall and instructed, "Ruperts, have the footmen help you carry him to the dining room and put on the table."

"The table?" her stepmother exclaimed. "You shall do no such thing!"

Emmaline dropped down beside her stepmother, trying hard not to look at her father. He looked even worse than he had earlier that morning, though he was groaning, and his eyes no longer rolled in the back of his head.

"Do… as… she… says," the earl ground out through gritted teeth. And Emmaline felt only a small relief to hear him speak.

"My love, no," Margaret protested but Ruperts and the other men were already adhering to their master's wishes.

Almost the second that the earl was gone around the corner of the hallway, carried like precious cargo by his loyalist servants, the countess jumped to her feet and turned on Emmaline.

"You!" she spat venomously, glowering down at Emmaline with pure hatred. "This is all your fault."

"Mama! You can"t mean that," Jane protested, rushing down the hall to join them. She dropped down to help Emmaline to her feet.

When they stood before her, arm in arm, the countess continued, "You and your bright ideas have done this, Emmaline! You have ruined this family and sickened your father! You have made it impossible for you or Jane to marry!"

Emmaline"s heart sank yet she kept her head held high, taking all her stepmother had to throw at her. She was right, she did deserve it.

"Whatever do you mean, Mama?" Jane protested, "What has happened?"

"Ask your sister!" the countess spat. Emmaline didn"t think she had ever seen her so mad.

Before Jane could ask anything, the countess stepped forward and slapped Emmaline hard across the cheek. "This is what you get for having ideas above your station. The dowries are gone. The inheritance is gone. The house shall be gone by the end of the month! We shall be destitute!"

Bile rose in the back Emmaline"s throat. More and more, she struggled to breathe. There was nothing she could say or do. All she did was stand and take the venom her stepmother spewed. Her cheek burned with pain, but she could not even bring herself to rub out the sting for she deserved that too.

She held her breath, her chin held high, and watched her stepmother turn on her heels.

It wasn"t until the countess had disappeared that Jane released Emmaline's arm and turned to look at her with a quizzical expression. "Is it true?"

Emmaline"s chest tightened. "I fear so."

Jane looked at her with unbridled horror. "It cannot be."

Emmaline couldn"t bring herself to see the devastation on her sister"s face for a moment longer.

Instead, she turned away and stepped through the still open door of her father"s study.

Finding it just as she had left it save for a flower vase broken upon the floor where her father had likely first fallen, she carefully stepped around the broken glass and headed for the desk.

There had to be something she could do, some way to fix all of this.

And so, she set about to find it, looking through all of her father"s accounts and ledgers. One way or another, she was determined to find something, perhaps some money her father had failed to collect from a tenant or some tradesperson yet to pay what they owed. Something, anything to help make things a little less dire.

"Emmaline, what are you doing?" Jane asked from the doorway, leaning on the frame as if it were the only thing holding her up after the ordeal of watching her stepfather collapse.

"Don"t worry," Emmaline said. "Everything is going to be fine. Go, be with your mother. Make sure father is well for me, please?"

She looked pleadingly at her sister. If anything should happen to him, she might never forgive herself.

"Of course. What are you going to do?" Jane asked.

"I am going to try and fix this," Emmaline said confidently though inside she felt anything but.

She was only slightly relieved when her sister dipped her head and exited the room.

Again, she turned her attention to the papers spread out on the desk in front of her. Receipt, receipt, receipt, money out, money out, money out.

Nothing looked optimistic. Then she found the worst thing of all. Her heart sank deep into her stomach, almost hitting the floor when she read a notice of overdue payment.

She gulped hard, looking at the paper behind. Written in red ink was the word unpaid.

Then, at the bottom of the paper she saw the words, The Devil Lord.

Emmaline"s heart stopped altogether. How could her father have been so stupid? How could he have been so reckless?

She knew very little of the man, and even less about her father"s dealings with him, but what she had heard of the noble lord turned debt collector, she did not like one bit. Blackmail, extortion and violence were always the center of every story whispered surrounding him.

He was not often talked about in polite conversation and certainly she had never heard any lady utter his name, but she had heard the businessmen mutter of him before. She had heard of how once, many years ago, a number of noblemen had disappeared at the hands of said devil lord. And she had heard other terrible things besides.

Yet not once had she heard more than that of him, not a glimmer of who he was, where he came from or what he might look like, only that he was not the kind of man one wished to meet in a dark alley.

What Emmaline thought to do at the sight of his name was quite utterly insane and yet what other choice did she have? She had to confront this devil lord and throw herself upon his mercy. Her father was sick, perhaps even dying thanks to her. Facing the devil for him was the very least she could do in order to make things right.