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Emmeline Patience Finch was anything but patient. At least, that was what her parents had told her all throughout her childhood. And she supposed they were right. Why they’d given her the middle name of Patience was anyone’s guess. Because now, at the age of twenty-four, she was finished with waiting for a man to propose to her. In her father’s will, he’d stipulated that if she didn’t marry by the time she reached twenty-five, she’d be entitled to the family cottage, plus a yearly income.
If she did marry, then the cottage would remain with her brother’s estate. So it wasn’t any surprise that her sister-in-law was continually introducing Emmeline to marriageable men. Well, marriageable in her sister-in-law’s viewpoint. Not so much in Emmeline’s, unless she wanted to settle for the portly widower who had four children. Four! Or the buck-toothed man who never stopped talking. Literally. Not to forget the man a whole head shorter than her, whose hair had already receded halfway.
It was time to move on with her life. Leave hopes of marrying in the dust.
This recent change of heart might be due to the fact that a wedding invitation she refused to open currently sat atop her bureau. She could well imagine the elegant script inviting her to Mr. Jacob Baker and Miss Alicia Duncan’s wedding.
The man Emmeline had thought held a tendre for her was marrying her best friend. Apparently, Mr. Baker’s interest in Emmeline was his way of getting to know Alicia better. Emmeline had thought that for once in her life she had a beau, a man who didn’t mind the crowd of freckles upon her skin and how she didn’t always say the most correct thing.
Turned out that Mr. Baker preferred the creamy-skinned, sweet-natured Alicia.
Emmeline had tried to be happy for her best friend, and she supposed at some level of consciousness, she was. But Emmeline knew one thing for certain. She couldn’t bear to watch the happy couple marry, then fawn over each other for the next year. Emmeline had seen enough of life to know that, once the children came, the fawning would dim somewhat, and the stresses of life would take over.
Which was why Emmeline needed to escape. For at least one year.
Escape from living under the roof of her brother and odious sister-in-law and their three rowdy boys. Escape from feeling like she’d never measure up to anything unless she married to improve her station. Which would only mean having brats of her own to chase around each day. If she was going to chase around children, she might as well get paid for it. She could work as a governess for a year to avoid Alicia and her new husband.
Then, when Emmeline’s twenty-fifth birthday arrived, she’d begin her new life in her cottage. She could read night and day if she wanted. Start a small garden. Not care if her nails were broken from digging in the dirt. The result would be putting fresh flowers on her modest kitchen table every day.
Decision made, she picked up the wedding invitation, broke the seal, and quickly scanned the contents. Ignoring the heat of envy building in her chest, she sat down at her writing desk and wrote a reply.
Dearest Alicia,
While I am overjoyed at your wonderful news and upcoming wedding, I’m deeply sorry that I must decline your invitation. I’ll be traveling, you see, and I will not return for many months, perhaps a year. I’ll look forward to reading your letters of all the adventures and happy times with your new husband.
With much love and affection,
Emmeline
That should do nicely.
The second letter she wrote was of a much different sort.
Dear Aunt Julia,
I am in desperate need of employment. No, I’m not starving. You know how much I adore children, and I think I should make the perfect governess. Is there by chance any word of a family in need of someone like me?
Your loving niece,
Emmeline
She hoped her aunt would read between the lines and not write back an entire list of questions. Or, heaven forbid, write an inquiry to her sister-in-law, Martha. That would not do. Her Aunt Julia was an eccentric widow and prone to stating her mind, whether appropriate or not. But at this point, Emmeline had no choice but to ask her for help.
“Emmy!” a young boy screeched, colliding with her door.
Good thing she’d had the sense to lock it.
“Joseph broke my toy soldier!” the boy continued.
So it must be Percy who was hollering. If Emmeline didn’t look directly at the nephew who was speaking to her, she wasn’t able to tell them apart by their voices.
“Where’s your mother?” Emmeline called back.
“She’s talking to the cow lady outside.”
The “cow lady” was the woman who delivered the milk each morning. Percy’s comical way with words was the one thing endearing her to this house. If only her parents were still alive, Emmeline might have enjoyed a completely different existence.
“Besides, Joseph doesn’t listen to Mum anyway.” Percy’s voice was much closer now, as if he’d pressed his mouth against the wood of the door.
“Coming,” Emmeline said with a sigh. She sealed the letter to her aunt, then stashed it in the pocket of her apron—something she wore most of the day, not because she was her sister-in-law’s servant but because she was quite fastidious not to soil her dresses that had seen better days. And living in a household with three rambunctious boys brought plenty of opportunity for soiling.
Emmeline opened the door, determined to settle this matter between the brothers, then make the trek directly to the post station. Her letter would be on its way by this afternoon, and all she had to do was wait.
Patience . . .