Chapter 3

Chapter Three

“ I could have sworn my sisters said that Lord Baine was the man they wanted to introduce to me, not you, Your Grace.” Emily grumbled as Duke Warren fell into step by her.

“And I am certain I read somewhere that ladies shouldn’t swear.”

Lord Baine was further away, near the duckpond of Emberly castle, admiring the resplendent beauty of the early spring splendour. Rose and her husband Alexander, Jane and several of Emily’s nieces and nephews had joined them and were scattered about.

Despite the tour of the gardens starting out as a chance for her and Lord Baine to better acquaint themselves, it became clear that the duke was not done with his inspection.

“I think we are both past the point of pretending I am prim and proper, though it hardly matters.”

“How do you figure that to be the case?”

“You don’t really care if I am the embodiment of social propriety. As long as I appear to be so in social situations and do not cause scandal, I am sure you couldn’t care less about my character in private.”

His thick brows cast a shadow over his eyes as he stopped, and leaned over her. “You seem to assume that my reasons are selfish. I am doing what every brother ought to.”

“Controlling and dictating their sibling’s life?” Emily turned to face him.

“Protecting them and ensuring their happiness. Even when they are too blind to see it.”

Emily had to suppress the rolling of her eyes. “I am sure your brother’s affection for me has not grown so much over an afternoon as to blind him.” She started walking toward her favourite section of the garden, and after a few seconds the Duke followed suit.

Though she swore he grumbled something about how she’d be surprised.

Yet, her attention was preoccupied as Emily looked around at the flora. Vibrant tulips and colourful pansies that were chaotically mixed with local wildflowers.

At first Rose’s gardeners had not trusted her with her ideas, so her sister had given her this corner of the gardens to experiment with, since their mother did not let her have any input in Pembleton Manor.

“You’ve done a lovely job.”

She swivelled at him. His eyes were sharp and assessing, and she felt, not for the first time, that he saw more than she wanted him to.

While she had been lost in the natural beauty around her, he had taken advantage of the opening. “You can’t know that; this is my sister’s garden after all. Perhaps I just really like this spot.”

“Perhaps. But I doubt it. It feels different than the rest of the gardens.” He took a step closer. “It’s more alive, and furiously vibrant, instead of elegantly spaced and refined.”

She turned away, pretending to examine the thick petals of a tulip. “That sounded like a compliment, Your Grace.”

“I must have said it wrong.” Though he said it with a smile.

He walked further down the path towards an arch with wild ivy threaded through. And she felt grateful for the space. “You seem to place great emphasis on freedom and chaos.”

“And what exactly is so worrying about seeing the necessity of such things?” Emily said, remarking on his voice.

“Without order and form, everything would descend into chaos. Order, structure, that is what is necessary for society.” Duke Warren gestured around them.

“Order and structure are not what give us great art. And is not art a part of society? Is not art what makes culture?” Emily countered.

He turned to her, amusement softening his sharp features. “Art has order and structure to it. And considering how skillful I’ve heard you are at the pianoforte, I would have thought that you would know that.”

Emily stood up straighter facing the duke like one might an opponent. So that is why he met me ready to disapprove of me.

“You know better than to believe in idle gossip.”

“My information doesn’t come from feeble scandal sheets and pompous lords, though I have heard what they say of you as well. Even the ones who seem to dislike you, admit your talent is admirable.”

“Now that was a compliment.” Despite her cheek, there was amusement in her tone. Still, she knew that whatever compliment her music might have garnered it was not enough to overshadow the criticism. The rumours.

“I would need to hear you play for it to mean anything. Otherwise, your accuracy and precision when playing a piece would remain hearsay.”

“Music is a passion, Your Grace. It is about expression, not control – which is all order is. Control. Great music stems from freedom and creativity. It is why pieces can evoke such strong feelings in the listeners.”

“No, great composers follow order and structure. Just look at Bach,” The Duke of Warren said flatly.

“Of course you would be drawn to Bach.” Emily only just managed not to scoff.

Duke Warren looked unfazed. “The man is deeply talented. His compositions are methodical, there is elegance and balance in the notes.”

“Hardly an inspiring way to describe anyone’s work. Who wants to listen to something that is orderly and mathematical? Most of us seek to be transported away, to find something that inspires us to dance.” Emily pointed out. How can he make something so beautiful sound so dreadfully pedantic?

“The proliferation of his work throughout our ballrooms would suggest that it does in fact inspire people to dance.” A triumphant smile played across the duke’s face, which only irritated Emily.

“His is hardly the only work that one is likely to encounter at a ball. Besides, the fact that it is played does not mean that it is played because it is orderly, just that it is something that people enjoy.” Emily felt her own triumphant smile play across her face. Two can play at this game.

“I would argue that people enjoy it because it is orderly. That is what makes it so wonderful to dance to.” The Duke pressed on doggedly.

“And what of other composers? Other works? There are plenty of waltzes that inspire that are not by Bach. A reel is hardly the most orderly thing.” Emily countered. She preferred the wild, lively reels to any sedate and orderly waltz.

“A reel has a set rhythm. Structure.” The Duke pointed out. “And even then, there is a reason why hosts take such care with their selection of music. They order it, to ensure that all might enjoy themselves to the fullest.”

“They curate things, that does not mean order.” Emily retorted. “If everything needs an order and structure why are things constantly shifting and changing? Why, even dances are shifting and evolving! That suggests that such things need freedom to thrive.”

Duke Warren shook his head “All that suggests is that things change. Nothing more. Music would be monotonous if it remained the same, in fact I would argue that it would not be music.”

“Is change not the opposite of order?” Emily asked. “Order requires things to remain as they are. Freedom is what allows us to grow. That is what the power of music is.”

He took a step closer, and Emily noticed how they had been moving towards each other as their argument progressed. The duke’s voice was low when he spoke. “Interesting how by ‘order’ you understand ‘uniformity’. Music is orderly because it depends on patterns. It is predictable in its potential combinations. And there is a beginning, a middle and an end. It is not an entirely random clattering of notes”

He was looming over her now, and perhaps it was an intimidation tactic, or his words simply made sense. But she had difficulty countering.

“That may be true,” she swallowed, her throat too dry for comfort. His eyes tracked the movement and she felt more able to focus. “Yet if music is so orderly and predictable, why is it that each composer will bring something of himself to his arrangement? Why is it that one man can interpret the same piece of music so differently from another?” Emily’s breath came faster.

“Without order, they would simply experiment with no purpose. There would be no understanding of harmonics, of melody.” The Duke’ was shaking his head, but his voice was lower.

“Feelings are what drive music. Music captures parts of ourselves we cannot otherwise express and brings them to life. Music transcends order. It is the ultimate form of freedom.” Emily felt something in her chest stir as she remembered the hours she had spent on the pianoforte.

Music was so much more than order and structure. Music was something she could feel within herself, was something that had let her give voice to her emotions. She loved the way it could light up a room, that it could add atmosphere.

She had loved being able to do that, being able to bring joy to those around her with her art. And then… No, I will not think of that now.

Emily caught herself glancing around, she needed to escape the weight of his gaze. Assessing, he is always assessing.

“Music without order is simply noise.” The Duke of Warren made a dismissive gesture.

“Beethoven would beg to differ.” Emily scoffed.

“There is still order to his music.”

“But it is unpredictable too. Just take Fur Elise. Something that starts simple and then becomes fiendishly hard.” It had been one of the first pieces she had heard and she had taught herself to play it the very next day, mistakenly thinking it would be a simple affair. “It began as one thing and became another. That is freedom.”

The Duke gave her a disdainful look. “That is someone letting their emotions interfere with their work.”

“Is that not art? An expression of one’s own emotions? Even you can admit to possessing them.” Emily narrowed her eyes at him.

A look flashed across Duke Warren’s face and his words sounded practiced, almost as though they had been learned by rote. “To indulge in our senses is vanity.”

“What does that even mean?” Emily raised an eyebrow at him.

“Only that one must think rather a lot of themselves, if they allow themselves to wallow in their feelings to the point of needing to express them through art.” The Duke made a vague gesture with his hand as though he were recalling something.

He called me a musician. Does this mean he thinks I am vain? She felt another stab of anger. “Then you feel that all artists, that all musicians are vain?”

“That is not what I said.” The Duke frowned at her.

“You know, Kant actually has some very interesting thoughts on the ideas of freedom and choice.” Lord Baine broke in making Emily jump.

She had no idea that he had joined them, not that she and the duke had come dangerously close. Her cheeks flushed and she shook her head, turning to face Lord Baine.

“How wonderful of you to join us,” Emily hoped her voice did not sound as high-pitched as her own ears suggested.

“I hope I am not interrupting.” The lord smiled, his soft eyes holding a certain amusement she was not privy to.

“I am sure Miss Pembleton would love to know more, brother. Afterall, you did save her from an unforgivably certain defeat. Please excuse me,” Duke Warren smirked before leaving the two alone.

Does he think me too stupid to understand? I’ll show him. Emily smiled at Lord Baine and said, “Please, Lord Baine. Do go on.”

As they walked through the gardens Lord Baine rambled about transcendental freedom, and while it was certainly interesting, he would get so carried away by his own thoughts he forgot to explain most of what he was saying.

“Because if you think about it, where does order come from? Is order reason or imposed another way?” Lord Baine said patiently.

“Does it matter?” Emily asked. “Surely order is order, we both know what the word means.”

“To Kant it does. For therein lies the question of ethics he seeks to explore.” Lord Baine replied.

Emily’s head hurt. She was fairly certain that Lord Baine was speaking English but had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. However, she did not want to give Duke Warren the satisfaction of learning about her lack of knowledge.

“So, does he argue that freedom must be a part of ethics? Of morality?”

Lord Baine turned to her, looking relieved. “Precisely. Freedom is the only thing that is innate and universal.”

Emily breathed a sigh of relief as Lord Baine began to speak of his love of Sir Walter Scott and the merits of his work.

She found it easy enough to interject with the odd question here and there, and to divert the more in-depth conversation to his opinions.

Mother always says that men most love their own opinion. Though in the past she had found it a rather un-romantic view of relationships, she could now see its use.

“I shall lend you some of John Locke’s work. I am sure you will enjoy it, particularly his treatise on mad men, that is in Chapter Eleven. It can be a little convoluted in places, but I have no doubt you’ll take it in your stride.” Lord Baine gave her an encouraging look.

“Your faith in my ability is most generous.” Emily smiled at Lord Baine. It is very much misplaced.

“Not at all.” Lord Baine beamed at her. “I hope you will forgive me, but I am rather tired. I shall see you at dinner, Miss Pembleton.”

“See you at dinner, Lord Baine.” Emily inclined her head towards him.

Lord Baine turned from her and joined his brother and Alexander’s sister Mary, who stood further away. Emily could feel her heart sink.

“Well, that looked like it went rather well.” Rose said, slipping an arm through hers.

“Indeed, you and Lord Baine seemed to be having a rather animated discussion.” Jane agreed, appearing on Emily’s other side.

“When we finally got some time after that brother of his took up most of it. Honestly, the Duke barely gave us a chance to speak at all.” Emily scowled at the memory. “The man is so frustrating. I cannot believe Lord Baine is related to him.”

“I believe they are half-brothers; Lord Baine’s mother was the late Duke’s second wife.” Jane frowned.

“Still, the duke is utterly insufferable. He is arrogant and seems obsessed with propriety.” Emily wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“Well, it is a good thing you are not marrying him, but will be marrying his brother.” Rose reminded her.

“I doubt that he will let us.” Emily shook her head.

“He would not stand in the way of his brother’s happiness.” Jane said reasonably.

Emily scoffed. “Wouldn’t he?”

“What would he gain? Lord Baine is the second son, he will not inherit a title. There is more freedom in that.” Rose pointed out.

“But he clearly thinks rather highly of his brother’s opinion, and I do not think the duke has a particularly good opinion of me.” Emily felt her heart sink.

“I am sure you are simply being pessimistic.” Jane said, patting Emily’s arm reassuringly.

“You’ll see, no one can deny the spark between you and Lord Baine.” Rose said, enthusiastically.

Emily was not certain that she felt a spark between them, but perhaps she was too distracted by his irritating brother. She could not help but feel that her sisters’ optimism was misplaced.

She shook her head. She would not admit defeat. Her sisters were right, this was her last chance and she wasn’t about to let some arrogant Duke ruin it for her.