Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

A s Emily returned to her room that evening, she found herself replaying much of her conversation with Duke Warren.

“And what do you think of Milton?” he had asked.

“I think he presents some interesting ideas. The world he creates is thought out and intriguing.” Emily had replied, hoping the answer would hide the fact that she had never read the book in question.

In truth, she had read none of the books the Duke had mentioned. Not the novels, nor the philosophical treatise, but she could not let him know that.

“Have you read much of Wordsworth?”

“A little.”

“And do you care for his work?”

Emily tried to recall the poems she heard in a reading once.

“I do. His work goes beyond simple description of nature’s beauty, and evokes something deeper. He captures the mundane of the city and contrasts it with deeper truths.” Emily remembered something that Jane had said, though she had no idea how true it was. I have never read him myself. “It was his work that inspired me to journey to the Peak district.”

“The Peak district?” Duke Warren frowned at her. “Wordsworth draws his inspiration from the Lake District.”

“Oh yes, that is what I meant. I always get the two confused. It is a terrible habit of mine.” Emily smiled shyly, doing her best to affect a girlish silliness that might excuse the mistake.

Mentally she kicked herself. Something deep and feral crawled within her chest, and she forced herself to breathe normally, making her shoulders relax. She could not let the Duke see how uncomfortable she was.

“I suppose women are not often as well schooled in Geography as men are expected to be.” The Duke gave her a curious look and she did her best to look innocent and appropriately embarrassed.

The moment passed, and the conversation turned to other topics. Emily’s relief washed over her, soothing her hammering heart.

A knock at the door brought her back to the present with a start. She shook herself, remembering that she was in her own rooms.

“Enter.” Emily called, trying to sound calm.

Emily’s Lady’s maid appeared in the doorway, smiling broadly, her curly brown hair bobbing as she curtsied.

“Good evening, Miss.” Lucy curtsied as she entered, carefully turning down the bed covers and then facing Emily.

“Good evening, Lucy.” Emily smiled at her.

“How has your day been?” Lucy asked. “Did you enjoy your walk with Lady Natalie?”

“It was lovely, thank you, Lucy. The outfit you picked was perfect for the weather.” Emily smiled.

“Did you see Lord Baine?”

“No, but I did run into his brother.” Emily said.

“Oh dear.” Lucy gave her a sympathetic look, which made Emily laugh. “Did you give him a piece of your mind?”

“Actually, we had a rather pleasant time together, playing chess and talking.” Emily smiled.

“Well, that is encouraging.” Lucy beamed. “I knew you would win him over in the end.”

“I have not won him over, at least not yet.” Emily chewed on her lip. “But I am more hopeful that he might think better of me than he did before. “After all, he did say I had a strategic mind.” Emily smiled to herself, feeling her chest warm unexpectedly.

“Well, that sounds like a very good start. With any luck, you will win his approval and his brother’s heart.” Lucy nodded cheerfully. “And then you will be a happily married woman!”

Emily’s chest squeezed. “Hopefully.”

There was a beat of silence and then Emily asked, “Would you mind passing me my embroidery?”

“Of course, Miss.” Lucy handed Emily the dress she had been working on for the last few months. “It is coming along splendidly if I might say so.”

“Thank you, Lucy. That is very kind.” Emily glanced at the dress in her hands.

The pattern had gotten more and more complicated as her skill had grown.

“I am sure your mother will be most pleased.” Lucy pointed to the work.

“Well, even if she is not pleased with the skill, I am sure she will be relieved that I have ‘thrown myself at last into a most ladylike pastime’.” Emily said the last in an imitation of her mother’s voice.

Lucy laughed softly and shook her head. “Yet you still remain yourself, Miss.”

“Of course, who else would I wish to be?” Emily laughed, but felt a tug of sadness within her. Is this really who I am? “I wondered if you might read to me while embroider a little more?”

Lucy nodded, her face lighting up. “It would be my pleasure. Shall I continue where we last left off?”

It was their usual arrangement, a way that Emily might have someone read to her without inspiring any gossip. One could hardly be expected to read when their hands were full of embroidery.

“Actually, I was thinking you might read me something new.” Emily gestured to the book Lord Baine had lent her.

“Of course, Miss. I would be happy to.” Lucy smiled at her, but the smile turned to a frown as she picked up the book. “This may be slower for me to read to you, Miss, than our usual novels.”

“I am sure you will try your best.” Emily gave her an encouraging smile.

“Chapter one: ideas in general and their origin.” Lucy swallowed. “Everyone is con-conscious to himself that he thinks; and when thinking is going on, the mind is engaged with ideas that it contains…”

There was a pause and Lucy’s. “So it is past doubt that men have in their minds… I am afraid I do not understand a word of this, Miss Pembleton, but if you do, I shall happily continue reading.”

“Perhaps if you read the sentence again, I might better be able to understand it?” Emily suggested, even as her heart sank. “Lord Baine recommended it to me, though he did say it might be somewhat hard going.”

Lucy began to read from the book again, and Emily took up her embroidery. She let the words wash over her, frowning as she tried to understand them. At the same time, she tried to decide what to add to her pattern.

The image of a horse and a castle sprung to her mind, and she began to create them in her motif. As she did so, she listened to Lucy, often asking her to repeat what she had just read.

“Is he saying that men get ideas from nothing? Or some other thing?” Emily muttered to herself. “Does it even matter where ideas come from?”

“I am not sure Miss.” Lucy bit her lip.

“Let us try chapter eleven. That is the one Lord Baine initially referenced.” Emily said bracingly. Perhaps if I understand enough of that chapter, I will not have needed to read the whole book to hold a conversation with the man.

“As you wish, Miss Emily.” Lucy turned to the chapter in question and began to read.

“Another faculty we may take notice of in our minds is… that of… disker… discerning and disting… distinguish… distinguishing ideas from one another.” Lucy stumbled over the words.

Emily’s head swam as her maid continued to read. A beautiful game. She wondered if Duke Warren had read any of Locke for his brother. It seemed likely. Does he find it tedious?

She pictured him, the familiar disinterest in his eyes as he shook his head at his brother’s obsession with philosophy. She found herself smiling, and then realised what she was doing and stopped.

“I am hardly going to win his approval if I show no interest in his brother’s hobbies.” Emily muttered to herself.

“Pardon?” Lucy asked, sounding relieved as she looked up from the book.

“Nothing. Please, continue reading.” Emily nodded her head towards the book in her maid’s hands.

Lucy’s face fell and she read, “A man who is very level-headed and has a good mind most of the time may in one kind of context be as frantic as any in the mad-house… Do you think he is joking?”

“If he is, I cannot understand it.” Emily admitted. “Or perhaps he is suggesting that all men are capable of madness?”

“Perhaps.” Lucy nodded and read, “This can happen because—either through some sudden very strong impression, or through his long fixing his mind on thoughts of one kind—incoherent ideas have been cemented together in his mind so powerfully as to remain united there.”

“Would you be able to read that last part again? Perhaps a little slower?” Emily asked.

Lucy did as she asked, several times over, but each time she read the passage, Emily only grew more confused.

“Perhaps you might speak to your sister, Miss—no, Duchess Caden—about it? She has always enjoyed philosophy.”

Emily briefly entertained the idea but then shook her head. “No, I would not want to bother her.”

“I am sure it would not be a bother. Your sisters both think very highly of you.” Lucy said.

But would they still think so if they knew the truth? If I asked Jane, she would wonder why I could not understand it myself. Emily shook her head. “No, I do not think that is a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“You know how I hate for them to think of me as the baby. If I asked them, well… That would only reinforce the idea that I am someone they must look after. I do not want that.” Emily grimaced. “Besides, Jane may well get so carried away that I end up even more confused.”

Emily sighed. “I do not think we will get much further with this. I am sure I have understood enough to hold at least a slight conversation.” At least, I hope so.

“Then you do not wish me to keep reading this to you?” Emily could hear the hope in her maid’s voice and surpressed her own smile.

“Yes, I think that would probably be for the best.” Emily agreed.

“Shall I return to our novel?” Lucy asked.

Emily opened her mouth to say yes, but found her eyes drawn to the book on chess that Duke Warren had given her.

“Actually, perhaps you could read me that?” Emily indicated the book.

“As you wish.” Lucy picked it up and began to read.

As she read, Emily pictured the chess board in her mind, moving pieces as the book described. She felt a surge of pride as everything seemed to click into place, and for some reason, she imagined how impressed the Duke would look when she finally beat him.

The thought made her smile. Then he will see just how wrong he was about me. That was clearly what was filling her chest with warmth. Proving to someone else that she was worthier than he’d thought. After all, she did love being right.