Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

" D id you follow me?" Emma turned sharply to face George, her heart sinking as she watched him approach, yet unable to suppress the familiar flutter of excitement that his presence always seemed to invoke. She was fast becoming a paradox, affected by him in ways she couldn't fathom, adding yet another layer of complexity to her already tumultuous emotions.

"I didn't need to," George shrugged nonchalantly, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her uneasy. "I already knew you'd be out here in the gardens looking for Firman," he added. The displeasure and accusation in his gaze and tone were unmistakable and stung her more than she cared to admit.

Emma felt a mix of hurt and confusion at his words and the underlying suspicion they conveyed. "Do you see him here?" she snapped, her irritation rising swiftly. "Or do you see me looking for him?" she challenged, gesturing around the empty garden to emphasize her point.

George met her defensive stance with a skeptical look, his disbelief apparent. The nerve of him to doubt her so openly was infuriating.

Somehow, he seemed more suspicious than ever this morning. Emma couldn't understand what had shifted since their last encounter. What had changed from the night before that had turned his manner so cold by this morning?

"If there's any truth in your claims, then what are you doing out here all by yourself?" he countered, his voice carrying a hint of challenge.

"So, I cannot seek some solitude now?" Emma retorted sharply, her patience thinning. "I wished to be alone," she added firmly, her gaze steady on his, daring him to contradict her need for peace away from the prying eyes and incessant demands of the house party.

"Why?" His gaze was piercing, searching, delving deeper than the surface of her simple need for solitude.

"Did I not just give you my answer?" Emma returned impatiently, frustration edging her tone as she met his probing stare.

"Why, Emma?" he pressed, his voice low, insistent, and Emma sensed a shift in his questioning. It wasn't merely about why she sought solitude now, but something more profound, more intrinsic to her very being.

Emma remained silent, unable to articulate the maelstrom of emotions and secrets that lay beneath her composed exterior. She could not reveal the full weight of her burdens, not here, not to him.

Something else flickered across George's face at her silence—disappointment. Emma saw it clear as day, and it pierced her heart more sharply than she anticipated. The realization that he expected more from her, that he was disappointed in her, was unexpectedly painful.

She rose to her feet, her body tense as she prepared to leave, to escape the intensity of the confrontation.

"You're being a coward," he said sharply, his words stopping her in her tracks.

Emma felt her jaw clench, her teeth gritting as if to physically hold back the pain his words elicited. "And you are being especially nosy," she shot back, her voice cold.

"Emma—" he started, but she was quick to cut him off.

"Is protecting my privacy now cowardliness, George?" She challenged, turning to face him fully, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and defiance.

"What you're doing has nothing to do with privacy, and you know it," he retorted, his voice firm, accusing.

"What I am doing is no business of yours," Emma snapped back sharply before she turned on her heels to leave.

"Oh, you can fool anyone, Emma, but you cannot fool me," he called after her, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and conviction.

Emma quickened her pace, desperate to put distance between them, to escape the scrutiny and the unbearable closeness that threatened to unravel her.

"This has been my business from the start," he added, his voice following her.

"Because you made it so!" Emma called over her shoulder, her words touched with bitterness. "With no permission of mine, if I might remind you."

"I do not need permission to do what is right. Unlike someone I know." He quickly closed the distance between them, and Emma felt his hand encircle her wrist, halting her escape. Reacting instinctively, she yanked her arm free of his grasp, her heart pounding.

"What do you want from me, George?" She asked, her voice shaky yet firm, as she faced him squarely.

"Answers. The truth !" His demeanor was dark and barely readable. She wished he could understand the duress she was under.

"Which have nothing to do with you," she ground out yet again. I cannot allow him to soften me.

"They have everything to do with me, Emma," he countered forcefully. His words hinted at stakes much higher than Emma could decipher in the heat of the moment. Before she could say anything, George touched her cheek, stroking with tenderness that had her leaning closer to him.

Don't do this to me, George. She closed her eyes for a moment—grasping at the remnants of her composure. It would be too easy to fall into his embrace, and perhaps that was what he was counting on to disarm her.

George's voice was very soft when he spoke again. "Emma, I told you from the start that I cannot let you do this." He sounded as though he were pleading with her to understand a point of view she stubbornly refused to see. She knew the game he was playing—one only a rake could play—and she would not fall for it.

"Then don't," she said tersely, blinking and taking a step back. "Don't do anything, George," she added, her frustration boiling over as she gathered her skirts in her hands, preparing to flee from this confrontation that threatened to unravel her composure.

He made a move to follow her, but she didn't give him the chance. She began to run, her footsteps quick and desperate on the soft earth of the garden path.

"You can run after me and cause a scene if you wish," she called out over her shoulder, her voice carrying a challenge she hoped he wouldn't accept.

And to her relief, she saw him stop. As she fled, she threw one last glance over her shoulder and saw him run a frustrated hand through his hair. He stood there, watching her leave, his disappointment in her evident in his intense gaze. It was a look that would haunt her, a silent accusation that she was running not just from him but from the truth he sought—and perhaps from a part of herself as well.

Emma forced down the hurt that welled up inside her, manifesting as a painful lump in her throat. Her feet carried her aimlessly through the deserted portion of the garden, her mind swirling with the recent confrontation. Almost without realizing it, she found herself at the entrance to a maze. Her steps, driven by a desire to escape, led her deeper into the labyrinth of hedges and pathways.

By the time she recognized her misstep, it was too late. She could not find her way back out. With a resigned sigh, she continued forward, hoping each turn might reveal an exit. Instead, after what felt like an eternity, she arrived not at the edge but at the very center of the maze.

And there, to her surprise, was none other than Alexander, right in the midst of tending to a variety of plants. The sight of him, so engrossed in his botanical pursuits, momentarily distracted her from her own turmoil.

Something churned uncomfortably within Emma as a voice in her head reminded her that this was the chance she had been seeking since the start of the house party. This unexpected encounter was not just fortuitous; it was almost fated.

"Oh, Emma," Alexander looked up, his expression brightening into a wide smile upon seeing her. "I see you have found my hidden plant laboratory," he quipped, his tone light and inviting.

"Indeed, I have," Emma replied, collecting her scattered nerves. She approached him, returning his smile with one that she hoped masked what had driven her here.

"Cherry saplings," Alexander explained, his gaze following hers to the delicate seedlings he was tending. "I received them only recently. From the Far East," he added, a note of pride coloring his voice.

"I see your collection reaches out to even the farthest corners of the world," Emma remarked, genuinely impressed despite the emotions swirling within her.

"Oh, but where is the adventure if one stays within the confines of their quarters?" Alexander responded with a playful smile. He handed her a pair of garden shears, an invitation clear in his eyes. "Would you like to try pruning the more mature plants with me?"

"Why, I'd be honored," she accepted, taking the shears with a sense of purpose she hadn't felt in days.

"These plants seem to have seen more adventure than I have," Emma found herself chuckling sheepishly as she carefully snipped away at the branches. Or ever will, she added silently in her thoughts, a trace of melancholy shadowing her brief mirth.

"Would you like to travel, Emma?" Firman asked, his question slicing neatly through her reverie.

"More than anything," Emma responded, hearing the longing in her voice. She had always wondered about what lay beyond the horizon, what mysteries the other side of the tide might hold.

Alas, that was something also not written for her, she thought miserably, her dream seeming as distant as the lands that nurtured the saplings before her.

"You will. One day. I can feel it," he said encouragingly, his confidence unwavering as he expertly tended to the plants, snipping away the unwanted parts with precision.

"You have such confidence," she remarked with a sheepish chuckle, touched by his optimism.

"Because I can feel it," he replied, giving her a conspiratorial wink. His lightheartedness was infectious, and despite the heavy shadows that clung to her thoughts, Emma laughed.

"I often make accurate predictions, Emma. So you just wait and see," Alexander added with a twinkle in his eye that suggested he was only half-joking.

"Why, I didn't realize I was friends with a soothsayer," Emma responded, making a show of being thoroughly impressed, which drew a hearty laugh from him.

"Indeed, you are," he agreed, his laughter subsiding into a warm smile.

"But do you know something, Emma?" he suddenly asked, his tone shifting to one of gentle seriousness. "The best adventures lay right at our doorsteps. But we often get caught up looking too far ahead, we miss the best ones right in front of us," he added, his eyes scanning the garden around them as if to emphasize his point.

Emma contemplated his words for a moment. They resonated with her more deeply than she expected, stirring thoughts of missed opportunities and overlooked joys in her own life.

"I suppose every breath we take is an adventure. If only we spare a moment to truly feel and look," she agreed, her voice soft, reflecting the introspection his words had prompted.

"Ah, now I see the wisdom Olivia speaks so highly of," he said, a note of admiration in his voice that caught Emma off guard.

And Emma felt her brow quirk in surprise. "Yes," he nodded, responding to the unspoken question in her eyes. "Olivia speaks so much of you. My sister is very fond of you, Emma. And with good reason too," he elaborated, his affirmation sending a wave of warmth through her.

Everyone around her seemed to harbor such faith and confidence in her abilities, if only Emma could muster the same for herself. She suddenly felt a strong desire to live up to these expectations. She didn't want to let down those who believed in her—not Antoinetta, not Olivia, not Lady Amberton, not Firman, and especially not George.

The thought of George tightened her chest once more as she recalled their recent, strained parting and the evident disappointment in his eyes. Perhaps, she thought ruefully, it was too late to mend things with George.

"Thank you, Alexander," Emma said, her voice slightly shaky as she fumbled with the garden shears in her hands.

"It is but the truth," he responded warmly, his smile encouraging.

As she returned his smile, a voice in her head reminded her of the daunting task she was stalling. Emma swallowed hard, her smile faltering as reality seeped back in. She set down the shears and dusted off her hands, her mind racing with her next steps. If she was to create a scandal, as her mother had plotted, she needed a witness.

Perhaps if someone saw her exiting the maze with him? The idea formed fully in her mind, and while it repulsed her, desperation edged her forward.

"I should be on my way now," she announced, more abruptly than intended.

"So soon?" Alexander's voice carried a hint of disappointment.

"C–can you show me the way out? I'm afraid I got lost earlier, and that's how I stumbled in here," she added, managing a weak smile. At least one of her statements was true, and she clung to that small truth to make herself feel less appalled by the duplicity of her actions.

"Why, of course I can," Alexander said as he dropped his dirt-covered tools with a clatter.

"Shall we?" He offered his arm in a gentlemanly gesture, his smile reassuring.

Emma followed him, each step measured and heavy as he led the way out of the labyrinthine maze. With every step, her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest, her anxiety mounting as they moved closer to the exit.

As they neared the edge of the maze, voices and laughter from outside the hedges reached their ears, signaling the presence of other guests just beyond the green barrier. Emma's steps faltered, her resolve crumbling under the weight of what she was about to do.

She couldn't do this, she realized with sudden clarity. It was too immoral, too deceitful. And Alexander—he had been nothing but kind to her. Throughout the house party, they had forged a genuine friendship; she had grown to like and respect him deeply. How could she betray him like this? No matter how desperate her situation, she couldn't bear the thought of living with such guilt.

And it wasn't just Alexander she would be betraying if she went through with her parents' plan. It would be a betrayal of all the friends she had made here, the people who had come to hold her in high esteem and cared for her. Emma had never truly had her parents' love and respect, but here, amidst these new friends, she had found a sense of worth and acceptance.

She couldn't—she refused —to betray that. No matter the cost, she would not tarnish these newfound bonds. Emma realized now, more than ever, that some lines simply could not be crossed, not even at the behest of her own parents.

"Is everything all right?" Alexander asked, concern etching his features as he noticed Emma had stopped following him.

"I just realized I left my reticule at the other side," she lied hastily, feeling a twist of guilt for the deceit. "We have come far enough. I think I can find my way out now once I retrieve it," she added, hoping her voice sounded more convincing than she felt. With a polite nod, she quickly turned to make her retreat.

In her anxious frenzy to part with him before anyone saw them together and misconstrued their encounter, Emma's foot caught on the hem of her skirts. Her balance faltered, and she stumbled forward.

Alexander, reacting instinctively to her sudden movement, reached out to catch her. However, he was a little too far away to secure a proper grip, and his attempt only slightly altered their course. They both ended up tumbling to the ground.

He landed atop her.