Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

E mma had been measuring the time since George's last visit by the tick of the clock, her anticipation and anxiety growing with each silent hour. Two days had felt like an eternity, each moment stretching taut without any word from him.

As she walked through the hallways of the house, lost in her troubled thoughts, she unexpectedly encountered her father. He had become a phantom within the walls of their home. He spent his days away, engaged in matters only he knew, and his evenings secluded in his study, the door firmly closed to the world, including his family.

Emma held her father's eyes, and the look he gave her was piercing and cold, filled with an unspoken venom that chilled her. He passed by without a word. Perhaps this is better than having him speak to me.

Just then, the butler appeared, his timing impeccable, breaking the icy atmosphere her father had left behind. "The Duchess of Preston and the Marchioness of Gillingham are waiting in the drawing room," he informed her with a respectful bow.

At the mention of her friends, a wave of relief washed over Emma. Her spirits, dampened by the heavy silence from George and the encounter with her father, lifted almost instantly. She had not seen her friends since the announcement of her engagement to George was made public yesterday.

"Oh, I told you everything will be well, Emma," Agnes exclaimed, wrapping her in a comforting hug.

"My felicitations, dear Emma." Frannie whispered.

Emma, feeling a rush of gratitude for the presence of her dear friends, promptly rang for tea before gracefully settling into her seat across from them. Aggie could barely contain her excitement as she leaned forward, her words bubbling over. "It is all everyone can talk about in society," she declared, her eyes sparkling with delight.

"It still feels like a dream," Emma confessed. She still had very strong doubts and a sense of unease, but it did feel like a dream to marry George.

"Oh, a dream wouldn't feel this good, believe me," Frannie chimed in, her tone teasing. She leaned closer, her gaze affectionate and slightly mischievous. "Look at you, you're practically glowing, Emma."

"The bridal glow," Aggie chimed, sharing a knowing wink with Frannie. Their laughter filled the room, causing Emma to blush deeper. She was thankful for the timely arrival of the tea, which provided a welcome distraction as she busied herself with the cups and saucers.

Just as she was pouring the steaming tea, another visitor was announced, and Emma looked up in surprise. Olivia burst into the room with a flourish that only she could manage. "Oh Emma, I was practically itching to come see you, but Aunt Jane insisted I wait a day or more for you to be calm. I cannot believe we are going to be sisters!" Olivia exclaimed, her voice vibrant with excitement as she enveloped Emma in a warm, eager hug before perching next to her on the sofa.

"You're just in time for tea, Olivia," Emma responded as she exchanged greetings with Agnes and Frances.

"I just knew you and George would be perfectly matched," she proclaimed with a hint of triumph, her eyes scanning the faces of Frances and Agnes for confirmation. "At the house party, they were scarcely seen apart, you must know," she added with a flourish of her hand.

Emma felt a blush creep upon her cheeks, an involuntary testimony to her feelings. "Oh, you do flatter too much, dear Olivia," she demurred.

"I do not doubt it for an instant," Agnes chimed in with a sly smile, her gaze playful and knowing.

"And neither do I," echoed Frances, her agreement sealing the playful accusation.

"Have you all conspired against me then?" Emma laughed.

"We merely wish for you to acknowledge what is plainly before your eyes," Olivia countered, her tone teasing yet tender.

"Infatuation?" Emma repeated, the word hanging momentarily in the air as her teacup halted in its journey to her lips.

"Oh, to be young and enamored!" Frances exclaimed.

Emma tossed a small velvet pillow at her friend. "You speak as though you are old and wise."

"I am wise!"

"So your husband has led you to believe!" Agnes laughed.

Emma felt a pang just then, recalling the affection she had seen the Duke of Preston display to his wife. She turned to Olivia. "Where is Lady Amberton?"

"Regrettably, Aunt Jane could not accompany me today; an unexpected visitor detained her," Olivia remarked as she reached for a biscuit, the blueberry jam glistening temptingly. "Nonetheless, she sends her warmest regards and eagerly awaits the opportunity to offer her congratulations in person," she continued.

Emma's response was a slight smile. "And what of the preparations for your dress and trousseau? When shall we commence the delightful task of shopping?" Agnes inquired, her eyes alight with the thrill of the occasion.

"Aggie, you would never forsake a chance to peruse the modistes' latest offerings, would you?" Frannie jested.

"Oh, why would she?" Olivia chimed, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Any excuse to embrace our nature is welcome." Her wink was mirrored by Agnes.

"I never saw a more enthusiastic duo," Frances remarked with a fond shake of her head. Turning her attention to Emma, she continued with a warm smile, "I for one cannot wait to see what dress you choose, Emma. I think you will make the most beautiful bride."

Emma could only smile and hide what she felt within. An hour later, Olivia glanced at her empty teacup and sighed. "I'm afraid I must take my leave now," she announced, a hint of reluctance in her tone as she set the delicate China down with a soft clink.

"Oh, so soon?" Emma asked.

"Yes, I must make a trip to the bookstore," Olivia explained, her enthusiasm for her errand momentarily brightening her expression. "I'm reading a collection of books, and I need to go purchase the new volume before it becomes unavailable."

"We should have tea again," Frances and Agnes proposed in unison.

Olivia's face lit up with a grateful smile, and she was only too glad to accept their invitation. "You have such wonderful friends, Emma. I cannot wait to have tea again," she expressed warmly as Emma saw her out to the waiting carriage.

"They are one of my treasures, Olivia."

"I hope to be a part of that treasure."

"You already are." Emma meant that, and Olivia hugged her.

Her mind wandered back to George. She'd wanted to ask Olivia about him, yet hesitated, wary of seeming too forward in her inquiries.

It is only two days, Emma. Did you expect him to write you a love letter daily or call upon you with flowers and poems? Perhaps she did—the foolish woman that she was.

"You best hurry on to the bookstore and return home in time for dinner before your brothers begin to worry," Emma said, her tone light yet purposeful, hoping to draw out some information from Olivia.

"Oh, there's only one of them at the moment," Olivia dismissed lightly with a casual wave of her hand. "George is out of town, you see," she added nonchalantly.

Emma felt a jolt of surprise but tried to keep her expression serene. "He's gone down to one of his estates. Although I am not sure which," Olivia continued, her tone helpful yet oblivious to the storm brewing within Emma.

A wave of unease washed over Emma. Was George developing cold feet? Did he need space to reconsider his decision before the wedding? The uncertainty gnawed at her, planting seeds of doubt in her mind. What if he no longer wished to marry her?

"Oh, do not worry. He will be back in time for the wedding," Olivia reassured suddenly, as though sensing Emma's inner turmoil. Her words were meant to soothe, but they only partially succeeded.

Emma mustered a smile and bid Olivia goodbye, her thoughts a tangled web of anxiety and hope. As she walked back into the house, her steps were slow, her mind preoccupied with George's absence.

When she returned to the drawing room and retook her seat, she found her friends' eyes fixed upon her, their concern evident. Their gazes were searching, silently urging her to share what troubled her heart.

"What is wrong, Emma?" Frances asked gently, her voice a soft plea for honesty.

"And do not even think about lying to us," Frannie added, her tone firm yet affectionate.

"We know that look only too well," Aggie supported, her brow furrowed with worry.

With a heavy sigh, Emma felt the weight of her apprehension and longing press upon her. She knew she could not hide from them, nor did she want to. These were her dearest friends, her confidantes. They deserved the truth, just as she deserved their comfort.

Emma clasped her hands tightly in her lap, her voice tinged with frustration as she finally spoke. "I haven't heard from Seymore in two days. And I just found out from Olivia that he is out of town," she confessed, her worry palpable.

Agnes leaned forward, her expression soothing. "Oh, I am sure he's probably traveled to take care of some last-minute business before the wedding," she reassured, her voice gentle and confident.

Emma shook her head, her unease deepening. "I cannot help but feel there is more to his absence, though," she murmured. "He didn't even send a note before leaving."

Frannie reached out, her hand warm and comforting on Emma's arm. "You are thinking excessively, Emma," she said firmly. "It's all right. You have nothing to worry about now."

"Do I not?" Emma retorted with a snort. "I cannot shake this unease I feel. After everything that happened, I find it hard to believe the dust could settle so easily. So...simply and calmly."

Frannie's eyes softened with understanding. "Oh, you need to believe that this happiness you've found is well deserved, Emma," she encouraged.

"I do, but—" Emma began, only to be interrupted by Frannie.

"Then don't be a pessimist," Frannie said, her tone a mix of admonition and affection.

Agnes laughed, her light, musical tone filling the room. "It must be the bride's nerves," she concluded with a knowing nod.

"Already?" Frances quirked a brow, her curiosity piqued by her friend's new observation.

"Never too early, Frannie. Never too early for bride's nerves," Aggie nodded sagely.

Emma couldn't help but join in their mirth. After her friends' departure, she returned to the empty drawing room and sat. A dark presence came upon her and she looked up to see her father in the doorway. He seemed to drain the room of its previous light-heartedness. His gaze, cold and contemptuous, was fixed upon her.

"So, you think have won now, hmm?" he sneered, his eyes narrowing as they swept over the tea service still on the table. "Hosting tea parties in celebration and all."

Emma felt a knot of trepidation tighten in her stomach. She straightened her spine, meeting his gaze with as much calm as she could muster. "Do I not have a right to have tea with my friends?" she replied coolly.

"Enjoy it while it lasts. As you should your time with that excuse for a Duke of yours," he retorted, a sudden, inscrutable glint in his eyes intensifying her apprehension.

Emma's heart raced. "What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"I see all the time you've been spending with your mother lately has sapped you of your wits too," he spat, his words like venom. "Or perhaps you never had them to begin with." Not giving her a chance to respond, he spun on his heel and exited the drawing room, leaving Emma reeling from the cryptic and cutting exchange.

Emma sat frozen, his words ringing in her ears. Desperation clawed at her heart as she tried to reason his behavior, to convince herself that her friends' reassurances were true. But the sinister edge to her father's words, the sheer hatred in his eyes, left a lingering dread she could not shake.

Something was deeply amiss, and despite her will to see brightness in everything, Emma's instincts screamed that this was more than just bridal nerves.