Authors: Rachel Francis
“I became good friends with him while you were up near Marchwood.
Isn’t he charming?” said Anne.
Emily laughed just as much at herself as at her friend.
“Very charming.
It seems I will be an old maid all by my lonesome,” said Emily.
“I could not resist, dear Emily.
Mr. Welles has no trouble with my retaining rights to my fortune.
And he’s as handsome as I’ve ever wanted.
Please do not be angry!” said Anne with genuine concern.
“I would not keep your happiness from you.
It is right that you should fall in love with someone who respects you, and that you respect.
There is, according to some sources, someone for everyone.
Just not me,” said Emily.
“I do not believe that!
Capt. Wingrave is a fool if he would ruin your chances over a measly secret.”
“I fear it is no measly secret.
Let us talk of Mr. Welles instead.
Who is his family?”
Emily persuaded Anne to change the subject with ease.
The Amberose Mansion impressed even Emily with her deadened enthusiasm, while Bridget could have fainted upon stepping out of the carriage.
A massive house in the middle of Dunbarrow did not exist without a significant fortune, of which Edward was the heir, attached to it.
“Em, pinch me,” said Bridget, “Ow!”
“Are you hurt?
Did you hit your foot?” inquired Mr. Annesley.
“No, no, quite alright.
Hunger pain,” said Bridget.
“Mama waits for us inside, most likely with refreshments,” he said, leading the two of them toward the imposing entrance.
Mrs. Annesley did not wait for them inside, she bustled outdoors to greet them in a jovial spirit.
It was not so exuberant as to be shocking, but more a natural case of friendliness.
“Edward!
It is good to see you,” said Mrs. Annesley, kissing both of his cheeks.
“I am happy to be home, Mama.
Let me introduce you to our guests, Miss Worthing, and Miss Bridget, of Charlton, daughters of Lord and Lady Worthing.”
“How beautiful!
And I’ve heard, quite accomplished.
Which of you is the musician?” inquired Mrs. Annesley.
“I am, ma’am.
Bridget is our artist,” said Emily.
“Fantastic!
I will expect a demonstration of your skills while you are here.
I am very fond of the arts!” said Mrs. Annesley.
Bridget mumbled to Emily as they were taken inside, “Why does everyone want music?”
“Because it is exactly what you cannot give them,” Emily whispered back.
They laughed a bit to themselves.
“Are you speaking of Edward?
He is something to whisper of, if I do say so myself.
A very fine son,” said Mrs. Annesley.
Mr. Annesley cleared his throat in embarrassment, and looked to the ceiling.
“While that is certainly true, ma’am, Bridget was merely joking that she should paint me at the piano while I play music for her, a mixture of the arts, you might say,” said Emily, coming to Mr. Annesley’s rescue.
“What a capital idea!
Miss Bridget, you are clever to think of it.
What a fine time we shall have with you girls in the house,” said Mrs. Annesley.
“They are not here purely for entertainment, Mama,” said Mr. Annesley.
“Of course not, I shall amuse them in return.
Tonight we have a dinner party!
You must all get dressed before the guests arrive.”
“Mama, we just arrived, I think our guests may want to take a rest,” he said.
“Nonsense!
You are all youthful and vibrant.
I remember the day I could travel and dance all night, and you won’t even have to dance,” said Mrs. Annesley.
Their quarters, for the Worthing sisters had been given a whole set of rooms, were quite comfortable, and afforded a view of the street.
They dressed, as requested, for the family dinner party.
“I think she likes you, Emily.
Maybe Mrs. Annesley can find you someone among the Annesley relations,” said Bridget.
“If Mr. Annesley left you tomorrow, would you search out another in two months’ time?” said Emily.
“Well... no.
I apologize for my callous remark.
If you are not ready,” said Bridget.
When the dinner party got underway, Emily and Bridget were left to wonder at the strange and sometimes hostile glances they received from several groups of people around the room.
They’d become quite uncomfortable when finally a young gentleman approached them.
“Excuse me, are you Miss Worthing?
I am Mr. Corwin Annesley, Mr. Corey, if you please, Edward’s cousin,” he said.
Mr. Corey smiled at them like an old friend.
“Yes, I am, and this is my sister, Miss Bridget, pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Emily.
“Forgive my relations, but they’ve heard your father is a newly-titled Lord,” said Mr. Corey.
“Is that offensive in Dunbarrow?” inquired Bridget, much amused.
“Of late, yes.
The King is ill, and in his stead the court has been issuing titles as favors, regardless of one’s property.”
“Our father has earned everything we have,” said Emily, scowling in offense.
“Please, do not be upset, at least, not with me,” he said.
“Forgive my sister, our family cares little for the workings of the court,” said Bridget.
“I would not have them think us pretenders nonetheless.
Will you correct any wrongful assumptions, should you hear them again?” said Emily.
“Of course, Miss Worthing, if you would favor me with your company, we might correct them together,” he said offering his arm to the ladies.
Mr. Corey was rather handsome, and wanted to pay them every attention, two factors that did not recommend him to Emily.
However, among the Annesley relations, he seemed the only willing friend at the moment.
Mr. Annesley stole Bridget shortly thereafter to introduce her to someone he had mentioned in Tripton, and Emily became the social prisoner of Mr. Corey, who took great pleasure in introducing her around the room as “my particular friend,” which did not suit her at all either.
Emily’s favorite guest may have been Mr. Canton, a quirky, if not addled old man claiming to have been a royal priest in his former life.
“Is he related to you directly?”
Emily inquired of Mr. Corey as Mr. Canton cackled in the background.
“No, fortunately, he married one of my great aunts,” said Mr. Corey.
“What a pity.
This is the best laugh I’ve had in weeks,” said Emily.
Mr. Corey gave her a curious frown.
“What could trouble you so?” he asked.
Emily flushed and bit her lip.
“You don’t have to answer.”
“It’s alright.
I… lost a friend, to a misunderstanding,” said Emily.
“I’m sorry for you.
Friendships are very important, and I believe should not be lost to misunderstanding.
A connection to another person, if deeply felt, should be treasured over all the follies of communication,” said Mr. Corey.
“That is a sound philosophy.
Tell me, Mr. Corey.
Are you often this disposed to speak with strangers?” said Emily.
He smiled, a charming smile for certain, if Emily had been receptive.
“You are not a stranger, Miss Worthing.
You are my particular friend,” Mr. Corey stopped in front of an intimidating group of women about Emily’s age, “And these ladies are also Annesley cousins of the Canton branch.
Miss Canton, Miss Dinah Canton, and Miss Barbara Canton.
Cousins, this is Miss Worthing, visiting here with Mr. Annesley and his mother.”
The eldest blinked in haughty disinterest.
“You’ve been admitted to our society so quickly.
Pray tell, what does your father do?”
Her hidden implication being that Lord Worthing must be a tradesman.
Mr. Corey interrupted the retort Emily almost gave about tradesmen being more useful than sluggish pretend princesses who contributed little to anyone besides themselves.
“Lord Worthing is a country gentleman with extensive lands, isn’t that right, Miss Worthing?”
She bit her tongue, and nodded fiercely.
Her conversation with her father about the different social climate of Dunbarrow made perfect sense now.
“Oh, I see,” said Miss Canton, yawning into her hand and dismissing the introduction.
Miss Barbara took her sister’s lead, but Miss Dinah looked on Emily with fascination.
“What is it like, to live in the country?” she asked.
While her two sisters edged away, Miss Dinah continued conversing with Mr. Corey and Emily until he impatiently made excuses to take his particular friend across the room.
“Oh, well Miss Worthing, I hope you will not consider it too forward if I call on you?” said Miss Dinah.
“No, that would be welcome,” said Emily, though she wasn’t convinced she could truthfully mean it.
Miss Dinah took Emily’s every word in, and agreed completely; an unnerving habit Emily couldn’t read.
Did Miss Dinah really agree, or did she want to collect Emily as a prize like Mr. Corey had?
Emily had never had to think so much about the sincerity of those around her and the headache it caused knit her eyebrows together.
“Where were we?
Oh, yes, have you met Edward’s younger sister?
She’s with him now,” said Mr. Corey.
Emily followed his gesture, and with surprise, saw a woman heavy with child laughing next to Bridget.
“I have not,” she said.
“Let us go there.
She is most delightful, Mrs. Randall,” said Mr. Corey.
With all the confidence of a crowing rooster, Mr. Corey strode Emily across the room and joined the conversation.
Emily felt quite paraded around, as if he made his possessive intentions clear to the entire room.
“Good evening, Corey!
I see you’ve been entertaining Miss Worthing with our family tree,” said Mr. Annesley, “Have you met my sister Mrs. Randall yet, Miss Worthing?”
“I have not, but I am delighted to do so,” said Emily.
“Alas I will not be downstairs much longer.
I see Mrs. Pratchett, the midwife worrying her hands over my state already, but I hope to see you again before your visit concludes,” said Mrs. Randall.
As if stricken with the plague, Emily’s face went white at this seemingly harmless statement.
Mr. Annesley noticed first, and he alone knew why.
“Miss Worthing!
Might I have a word with you, about the um… the length of your visit?”
She shook her head in wordless denial as the two instances in her life when Mrs. Pratchett had been mentioned connected in Emily’s memory.
“Emily?
Have you taken ill?” said Bridget, feeling her forehead with the back of one hand.
“No, no…”
“Please, Miss Worthing, to the study.
I have a change of dates, and Bridget was unsure if your parents would need you,” said Mr. Annesley.
He took her arm from Mr. Corey, who was quite shocked at having his dinner partner thieved, and whisked her out of the room before she could break into hysterics.
They did not come however.
Emily internalized the trauma, most sure she looked as senseless as old Mr. Canton.
Mr. Annesley did not take her to the study, opting instead for a nearby parlor with a lit fire.
Emily pronounced each word with fiery care, “Tell me why.
Why would Capt. Wingrave be upset at the mention of a midwife?”
Mr. Annesley sighed, rubbing his face with both palms.
“I cannot tell you why,” he said, “But I urge you to forget ever hearing the name.”
“I will guess then.
Someone had a child,” said Emily, anger rising that he would still try to keep her ignorant with such inexplicable facts shouting him down, “Is that not what a midwife is for?”
“Do not tread here, Miss Worthing,” said Mr. Annesley, “I am honor-bound to secrecy.”
“Do not treat me as one dumb, and nonsensical.
I know your brother was engaged to Miss Wingrave, and that it was broken.
Tell me who had a child!” Emily demanded.