Proper Secrets (24 page)

“I have men on their way,” Edward announced, voice loud with warning, “If you leave now, you can avoid what they’ll do to you.
 
Kidnap Miss Worthing, and they will run you down in the open sea and take no prisoners.
 
Avoid them, and they will race you to Tadoros where the Annesleys are very welcome, and you’ll spend the rest of your life in a Tadi jail.
 
Jude cannot be paying you enough to go through the hell I wish upon you.”

Mr. Annesley watched the fight leave their eyes, and as one they abandoned Jude, scrambling to get their ship out of the harbor.
 
Jude looked on Edward with hate that turned into viciousness.

“Oh, Edward.
 
Only with Miss Emily as a prize could I have been persuaded to leave Endland forever.
 
All at once I was going to hurt every one of my detractors, every single person who has contributed to my state of poverty and exile from society.
 
Now I will have to stay here, and go about my business,” said Jude.

“Take me with you!”
 
Miss Dinah tugged on his coat, her too-open eyes wide with hope.

“Why would I do that?
 
Stealing you away would not be one tenth as amusing.”
 
Jude shook her off and disappeared into the city.
 
Emily unconsciously grabbed Mr. Annesley’s arm until she could breathe normally.

“Miss Emily?
 
Miss Emily?
 
I am deeply sorry,” he said.
 
She did not speak, not when his men arrived, or when he ordered a carriage, or when he scolded Miss Dinah until her ears were raw.

“He said he loved me, but he wanted her,” said Dinah, glowering at Emily before tears rushed down her cheeks, “And I could not refuse to help.
 
Not if it would make him happy.”

“Your mistake is in thinking a man like Jude can be happy,” murmured Edward.
 
They deposited Miss Dinah at her home, with a stern warning that she was to stay in until Mr. Annesley returned to explain.
 
Then, Emily and Mr. Annesley rode around the city of Dunbarrow in silence, not returning to Amberose just yet.

Emily gratefully accepted the extended carriage ride.
 
Jude’s nightmarish scheme had been thwarted, but how near she had come to being his captive brought her to the brink of inward hysterics several times, much to her shame.

“How could I have let this happen?” she said, “Why didn’t I realize?”

“It is my fault.
 
I should have told you that Miss Dinah has always tried to put herself in Jude’s company.
 
Most in our family dismiss it as girlish fancy, but I knew they’d met in secret before, not that he could be interested in the second daughter of a minor family.
 
He applied to her for news, and it seems this time, for information about you.
 
I would understand if you wish to leave Dunbarrow,” said Mr. Annesley.
 
In truth, Emily did want to leave.
 
Dunbarrow could keep its games and plots.
 
She’d met so few people of value that she despaired for Bridget settling here.
 
Yet, Bridget loved Mr. Edward, and Emily could not ruin her chances, even if the man himself needed persuading.

“No, sir.
 
We will stay until our intended departure.
 
Give me a few more moments and I will be well enough to return to Amberose.
 
Let us not speak loudly of this to anyone unless necessary,” decided Emily.
 
Mr. Annesley turned from the window to look at her.
 
Resolve plainly visible, he nodded.

“I’ve never met a woman so unaffected after encountering Jude, especially not if they had almost been kidnapped,” he said.

“Pardon me, I am wholly affected, but it is over, and I trust that you are now on your guard,” said Emily.
 
A glint of cold anger passed through his eyes as he thought of all he would do to drive Jude from Dunbarrow.

“I am.
 
This was scandalous and depraved, moreso than I’ve ever seen from him.
 
It has ensured that I will never underestimate his behavior again.”
 
Emily breathed deep and long.

“Then all is well.
 
Miss Dinah took ill and I called for you to escort me home.”

Emily did not speak much to Bridget about the event, treating it as a routine outing while they were in public, and only informed her of the true particulars after the lights had gone out that night.

“Emily!
 
I cannot believe you did not tell me at once!” shrieked Bridget.

“Shh!
 
Shh!
 
We aren’t to speak of it openly.
 
Mr. Annesley prefers you not to know.”

“Is that why he left so soon after returning?”

“He told me later that he went back to the Cantons.
 
They want no part of Jude’s disgrace and have said they will send Dinah away to a relative that is far more strict,” said Emily.
 
She clucked her tongue.

“Do you want to go home?” Bridget whispered.

“No, love.
 
I will recover just as well here.
 
Pray, do not tell Mama and Papa about this.
 
I don’t want to worry them without cause.”
 
Bridget rolled around in the bed in a frightful temper.

“That man!
 
How could he and Edward be brothers?”

“I know you may not want to hear it, but if Mrs. Annesley had paid more attention to her sons than her rank, Jude’s outcome might have been different.”
 
Bridget huffed and lay still.

A week passed, and though Emily had avoided any trouble by staying in, late that Tuesday evening trouble came anyway.
 
The arrival of an express letter interrupted Emily in her quarters.
 
Bridget and Mr. Annesley listened to Mrs. Annesley in the parlor; she analyzed a dinner they’d had at a rival’s house.
 
Idly, Emily hoped Mrs. Annesley would continue do all the social gymnastics if the couple married, so that Bridget would be left in peace.

“Excuse me, Miss, the head servant sent me with this.
 
It’s just arrived and is marked for haste,” said a maid from the hall.
 
Emily thanked her kindly, and with a speeding heart looked upon the envelope.
 
Express mail did not come for her unless it was an emergency.
 
It was from Charlton.

“Oh dear,” gasped Emily.
 
She could barely stand to open it, a thousand worries screaming loud in her head.
 
Whispering prayers and wishes all the while, Emily slid a finger under the seal and unfolded the paper.

“Emily,

I won’t prolong this, it pains me to write.
 
Your mother and I received a letter from Batteran Phelps.
 
Peter is missing in action, and presumed dead.
 
We still hold out hope, though we know there is not much to be had.
 
We ask for your return so that we may all be together.

Deepest Love,

Papa.”

“Bridget!” Emily screamed, unconsciously drawing it out in agony, “Bridget!”
 
The echoes of it rang throughout Amberose, leaving no one in the house unaware that something terrible had happened.
 
Bridget wrenched the door open, half expecting an intruder to be in the house, and seeing only her sister with a piece of paper, immediately fell to dread, with Mr. Annesley not far behind her.
 
He fielded questions in the hall while Bridget went to Emily and shook her until a rational response could be had.

“Emily, Emily!
 
What has happened?”

“Peter is gone!”
 
Mr. Annesley turned at this last scream with utter incredulity on his face.

“But… Elijah wrote to me… Peter was… doing well,” he said.
 
Emily could only nod as she and Bridget collapsed together on the floor, harsh sobs indistinguishable from sister to sister.
 
When the rest of the house had been assured that no one present was dying, Mr. Annesley closed the door and handled anyone who came near, allowing Emily and Bridget a moment of privacy.
 
The need to pack their trunks, to proceed home, halted the weeping.
 
The Annesleys were extremely sad to see them go under such circumstances, and Mr. Annesley accompanied them, taking no objections.

When they descended from the travel carriage, Mary Wingrave happened to be walking to the dress shop and waved with a smile to her three friends.
 
Emily unashamedly directed some of her anger and hatred toward Mary in a terrible gaze, fit for the eyes of the devil.
 
Mary stopped, thinking Emily to still be upset over the proposal when Mrs. Johnston, who had a good view of the scene, rushed outside to whisper in Miss Wingrave’s ear the news that everyone else knew.
 
A spasm of horror in Miss Wingrave took Emily by surprise as Mary clasped her hand over her mouth, and ran away in tears.
 
Emily sniffed in hollow satisfaction.
 
Every irrational and hurt part of her hoped Mary felt the full force of Peter’s death.
 
Emily shook her head.

“Peter made his choice,” she mumbled.

Lord and Lady Worthing, despite their claim to hope, despaired beyond anything Emily had yet witnessed, and Genevieve cried constantly.
 
As a family, they sat in the parents’ bedroom and did not leave all night, talking and leaning on each other in the darkest of times.

Charlton became a tomb of sorrow and disappointment.
 
Mr. Annesley, Bridget, and Genevieve banded together, while the rest of the house took up solitary occupations.
 
After a week without any more communications from the border, the fading hopes of the Worthings vanished.
 
The solid truth of Peter’s death beat a bitter stake into their hearts, one more strike would do the family in forever.
 
Mr. Annesley retreated to Dunbarrow, to give them privacy.

First, Emily took to walking, wanting solace in nature.
 
However, blind with grief, the lessons the natural world held were lost on her, and she could not be bothered to go outside after several fruitless days of retrospection.
 
She could not stand to see anyone, their tears and sadness added to her own, and so Emily retreated to her room again.
 
Then, the real manifestation of mourning began in the form of incurable illness.

“Was it not you who said that to die broken-hearted in your room was dramatic?” said Lady Worthing.
 
She stared hard into her daughter’s face, unwilling to lose two children.

“I am not attempting to die, Mama,” said Emily, “Though you all suspect me, I’m not willfully weakening myself.”

“The doctor is baffled, at least,” said Lady Worthing.
 
Emily sighed.

“I’m not well enough to despair.
 
If you will to accuse me of anything, make it apathy.”
 
Emily turned over, sallow cheek smushed into her pillow.
 
It was not a fever or cold that ailed her, but an unstoppable wasting of spirits.
 
She did not care to eat, she fell when walking, and had lost most weight that could be spared in the month since they’d lost Peter.
 
Emily did not read or embroider to pass time; she remembered, cementing every thought of her brother before time could fade them.
 
To this she added cruelty to her daily regimen by allowing herself to imagine a double wedding, Peter and Mary, and herself to Elijah, over and over and over.
 
A thousand weddings later and Emily moved on to daily life at Reddester, how she would arrange the house to her liking, visiting her family often, and then, perhaps, a child of her own.
 
She looked forward to the conjurations of her mind much more than the bleak nothingness practicality would force her to acknowledge.
 
In truth, she did not wish to get well, and did not take any actions to do so, but it could not be admitted aloud.

“Apathy is enough to ruin nations, let alone one heart like yours, so used to the strong coursing of opinion through it.
 
Every day I lay in bed I wished to get up and join my family, so many things I missed, and now Peter is…
 
Do not ruin your health,” said Lady Worthing.
 
Emily cringed, guilt meshing with her negativity.

Days, nights, meals, visits.
 
The doctor gave in.

“I can cure the body, but not the mind or heart.
 
I’d wear myself out trying,” he’d told her parents.

“No more!” shouted Lady Worthing at her bedside, an afternoon six weeks since they’d come back from Dunbarrow.

“What?” said Emily from her bed, confused that something so real had startled her.
 
With all her regained strength, Lady Worthing did a thing so uncharacteristic of her station that the servants would speak of it for years with unbridled respect.
 
She threw Emily’s covers away from her, grabbed her ankles, and hauled her clear from the bed.