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“I had hoped the weather would be clear this morn,” Rebecca said at the breakfast table the next day.
Emma glanced out the window of the parlour where breakfast was being served and watched the droplets of rain trickle down the glass. They reminded her of the tears she’d cried last night while lying in bed, listening to Charles shouting from the other side of the door.
She had intentionally kept her responses brief or did not respond at all as she sobbed quietly into her pillow. Charles had managed to break her heart into tiny, razor-sharp shards, which cut her soul deeper than she had ever thought possible. She had never anticipated that he would treat her so cruelly, and she was deeply hurt by his words. She was not even able to look at him across the breakfast table.
Thomas and Rebecca along with Robert and Abigail, were seated at the table, immersed in the tension as well. Emma had decided to give Charles his space, which only caused Charles to be more sullen and brooding than he had been previously.
The tension was obvious and although Emma still conversed with the others around the table, they were clearly uncomfortable.
After Thomas and Rebecca excused themselves, Robert and Abigail soon followed, leaving her and Charles alone at the table. But still, they did not speak. Emma drank her tea quietly, focusing her attention on the sound of the rain against the window rather than attempting to speak with her husband. She had nothing further she wished to say to him, as she had spoken her mind more than enough the previous evening.
Admittedly, she was glad she’d been able to get those things off her chest, but she also regretted being hurtful. Charles was a rather guarded man, and most likely he did not even take any of those things to heart. Nevertheless, she was not a cruel person who relished in the anguish of others and would much rather keep her emotions and feelings to herself.
Although she had always been honest and forthright with Charles, she had never been cruel in the process, speaking truthful things in a hurtful manner.
Emma took another sip of tea as the butler entered the parlour carrying her portable writing desk as well as the daily mail. It had been a morning custom for Emma for a long while. The butler would bring the morning post, she would go through the letters and answer them immediately. It was an efficient manner for her to keep abreast of important correspondence, and also change her schedule if necessary.
“Thank you, Frederick,” Emma said with a smile, and the butler nodded at her.
“You can be polite to the butler but not to me,” Charles said wryly.
“He did not accuse me of infidelity,” Emma said as she scanned through the letters on the tray.
Most were addressed to Charles, but there was one letter addressed to Emma, penned in her father’s hand. Her brow furrowed as she broke the wax seal and unfolded the paper. Usually, her father only wrote a paragraph or two at most and included it along with her mother’s letters to her.
As she read through the unusually long missive, her concern grew with every word. Upon reaching the end of the letter, she lowered the pages onto the desk and drew in a deep breath.
“Emma?”
Reluctantly she gazed at her husband and swallowed the lump in her throat.
“What is the matter?”
She pursed her lip for a moment and expelled a slow breath. “My father wrote to me.”
“An entire letter?”
“Multiple pages, in fact.”
“That is rather peculiar.”
She nodded. “My mother is ill, and her physician is not optimistic of her recovery.”
Emma watched as Charles’ face paled and his eyes softened. “I am sorry to hear that.”
“I must go and see her, perhaps take the children as well.”
“They will very much like that. They are very fond of your parents’ country home.”
Happy to have a plan and Charles’ approval, she gripped the letter tightly in her hand. “I will write to my father and inform him of our visit,” Emma said, fighting back the tears in her eyes.
“Emma, what ails your mother?” he asked.
“Here,” she said and handed him the letter. “Read it for yourself.”
Charles nodded as he took the sheets of paper from her and began to read. Emma opened the drawer of the desk and retrieved her stationary, her inkwell, and her quill.
Her thoughts were muddled, and she did not know how to express them in writing. Her mother had been unwell for a long while, but nothing compared to the knowledge her father had shared. He described in detail how there was a mass growing inside her mother’s belly. Her physician was not certain what it was, but was convinced it would continue to grow, adding pressure to her lungs. She had already been struggling to breathe properly, and her prognosis was not optimistic.
Although the circumstances were morose, it was the ideal time to visit her parents as she could not bear to remain at Finlay Hall.
If Charles offered to accompany them, she would have to decline the offer. She did not possess the mental strength to spend an extended time in a coach with him and the children. She felt terrible thinking such things, but she could not change her current mindset.
Charles had hurt her, and the pain was not something that would simply vanish quickly.
Emma drew in another breath and noticed Charles lowering the pages. She did not dare look directly at him, as she would most certainly start sobbing once more. Charles rose to his feet and she glanced at him with a furrowed brow.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To prepare for our journey to Mill Grand House.”
“Charles, wait,” Emma said and rose to her feet.
“What is it?”
“I do not expect you to accompany me and the children. We are perfectly fine to make the journey on our own.”
“Do you not wish for me to come?” he asked.
***
EMMA DREW IN A DEEP breath, and Charles stared at her. Her lovely face was always very expressive, and he had no trouble recognising the concern she felt for her mother. He was aware he should apologise to her. He had been unspeakably rude to her last evening, and without cause.
Somewhere in the middle of his sleepless night, Charles had realised that Emma was not to blame for any of it. He had been insecure and had directed his anger towards her instead of towards himself.
Joseph was to blame. He was the one who had not only invited Emma to the poetry reading but also made an advance towards her, which had not been well-received.
It did please Charles to know that Emma had slapped Joseph for his inappropriate behaviour, but he was unable to tell her, as he did not wish to bring up the subject again. Emma was already distressed enough after hearing the terrible news of her mother.
Charles also knew that Emma had thought of his business partnership and their family name when she agreed to accompany Joseph. She had only wished to keep the peace, and Charles realised this. Perhaps too late.
“You only arrived last evening after a very gruelling journey from London. I do not wish for you to spend another day cooped up in a coach. Sleep is important to you and you need to rest, or not a soul on earth will want to be around you,” she said. “And I also think that the space would do us the world of good. Do you not agree?”
Her words were not in the least bit insulting as they were completely true, and he appreciated her honesty. He nodded and took his seat on the chair again. “Whatever you think is best.”
He watched Emma proceed to write a letter to her father, her face expressing all the feelings she penned on the page. There were moments where her eyes filled with tears, but she bravely willed them away.
Charles felt every bit the fool Emma thought he was. He could not believe that he had treated her so poorly, and now she would soon leave, taking their children with her to visit their grandparents.
Although he was reluctant to let her travel alone with the children, he was aware that she required some distance from him. She needed to spend time with her dying mother, and her father, and, of course, taking the children to see their grandmother before it was too late. Charles certainly did not wish to stand in her way.
Emma’s mother, the Viscountess of Taunton, was a lovely woman, and he had much respect for her. She was kind and caring but also fiery and intelligent, attributes that Emma had clearly inherited from her.
“Thank you, Charles. I appreciate you permitting me to go,” Emma said suddenly, looking up from where she was writing her letter.
“Of course. It is your mother. Although I would have preferred to accompany you and the children, I do understand your needs as well. And I respect them.”
Emma pursed her lips and nodded quietly as she lowered her gaze.
“I shall leave you to finish your letter to your father. I will inform the children of the news,” Charles said as he rose to his feet.
Emma’s head jolted up and she frowned. “You cannot tell them of my mother’s condition.”
Charles smiled for a moment and shook his head. “I was referring to the visit.”
Emma sighed a breath of relief. “My apologies.”
“You do not even need to apologise to me, Emma,” Charles said, hoping his words would provide her with both assurance and comfort.
“Thank you.”
“I will leave to you to it, then.” Charles said, placing a hand on her shoulder, hoping it conveyed his silent support. Before he stepped away and quietly left the parlour.
As he made his way through the hallway, Thomas approached him.
“Are you well, brother?” Thomas asked.
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“What does that mean?” Thomas asked.
Charles’s jaw clenched and he sighed. “Emma received a letter from her father. Her mother is gravely ill, and she does not seem to have much time left.”
“That is terrible news. I am so sorry to hear it. How is Emma?”
“She is preparing a post for her father. She and the children will travel to Taunton at their earliest convenience.”
“Will you not be accompanying them?” Thomas asked.
“At Emma’s request, I will remain here. It is the best option for all of us.”
Thomas pursed his lips and studied him for a few moments. “With all due respect, brother, I am inclined to agree with that. After last evening and this morning during breakfast, you and Emma need time apart. No offense intended, of course.”
“I am not offended in the least. It is what she wishes, and I will grant her that. Her mother is important to her, as well as the children, and Emma is important to me.”
Thomas nodded and a smile formed on his lips. “It is not any of my business but what happened between you and Joseph—”
“Do not utter that name in my presence or in my home ever again.”
Thomas held his hands up in defeat and stepped back. “I understand, but he is still your business partner.”
“Not for much longer. I have requested Robert’s assistance, and he will take care of the legal matters. I wish to have nothing more to do with him or be associated with him in any manner.”
“What did he do to wrong you?” Thomas asked.
“Did Robert not inform you?” Charles asked, and Thomas shook his head. “He made an advance toward Emma last evening at the poetry reading.”
“Yet again?” Thomas asked and immediately cringed, as though he was not supposed to utter those words out aloud.
Charles’ face turned stormy. “There have been other instances?”
“My sincerest apologies, brother. I was under the impression Emma had discussed it with you already. She wished to, as she no longer felt comfortable in his presence.”
Charles’ jaw clenched as he turned away abruptly, his heart filled with sorrow that her distress had gone unnoticed by him. His lovely wife had been enduring much more than his eccentricities and she remained silent only on his behalf, causing him even more guilt. He would find a way to do better, starting now.