Lucy looked a little daunted all the same. Agnes was so
well read. She had a way of knowing about these things. As for Chloe, she found
Agnes's description positively alarming. But before either she or Lucy could
press Agnes for the source of her information, they were interrupted by a knock
on the bedchamber door.
The maid, Polly, thrust her head inside long enough to
announce, "If you please, young ladies, Miss Emma is wishful of having a
word with you in the drawing room."
When Polly ducked out, the three sisters exchanged uneasy
glances. They were not usually so formal in their household. The last time they
had all been thus summoned it was to find Emma, red-eyed, the letter from
Captain Trent clasped in her hand as she steeled herself to inform them about
Papa.
"Now what's amiss?" Agnes slapped her book closed
and sat up. But her sharp tone did a poor job of concealing her anxiety.
"Do you think that anything has happened to Great Aunt
Martha?" Agnes asked.
"Oh, no, I am sure it is nothing terrible," Chloe
said, although she was sure of no such thing. But she sought to reassure her
younger sister, taking Agnes's cold hand within her own. For once, Agnes let
her.
The three of them crept downstairs to the drawing room,
huddling upon the threshold to peer inside. Emma was perched primly in Papa's
wing-back chair, her hands folded in her lap. She looked composed, not at all as
though she had been weeping, but Emma was good at concealing such things.
Since she had turned twenty-two, she had adopted a habit of
tucking her soft brown hair beneath a lace cap. Emma only wore it loose, Chloe
had noticed, on those days the Reverend Mr. Henry came to tea This afternoon
Emma's cap was fixed firmly in place.
She summoned a smile at the sight of her sisters. "Come
in, my dears. Do not look so alarmed. It is not anything so very dreadful I
have to tell you, I promise you."
Her words reassured Lucy and Agnes, but not Chloe. Emma's
eyes appeared serene, but there was great unhappiness present all the same.
Chloe heard it in her voice.
Lucy flounced onto the settee, sitting down in a swirl of
taffeta. "Then, Emma, I do wish you would not make such a piece of work
about it. You frightened us half to death with that summons."
"I am sorry. That was never my intent."
Chloe settled beside Lucy, while Agnes took up a post behind
the settee, tapping her foot. "I hope this will not take long. I am already
behind on my program of study for today."
"No, it won't," Emma promised. "It is only
something regarding Captain Trent's visit. He will likely be here late today or
perhaps tomorrow, Christmas Eve, you know."
"Yes, we do know that already," Agnes said
impatiently.
"What you don't know is the captain's purpose in coming
here." Emma's voice wavered a little. She was making an effort to look too
brave. A sudden terrible suspicion shot through Chloe.
"He's coming to say we cannot live here in his house
anymore, to turn us all out of doors."
"No, Chloe dear. 'Tis nothing like that."
"Then what is it, Emmy?" Lucy demanded. "It
is most unlike you to tease us so."
"It is just so difficult. I don't know how to
begin." A deep blush stained Emma's cheeks. "The truth is that
Captain Trent is coming here to marry me."
Stunned silence met this announcement, the room going so
deathly quiet, Emma was driven to repeat herself as if fearing they hadn't
understood.
"The captain and I are going to be wed. Here in the
village church."
"Well!" Lucy exclaimed. "Knock me down with a
feather!"
Agnes frowned. "This does not seem logical, Emma. You
have never met Captain Trent."
"But you know I have been corresponding with him on
matters involving the estate."
Chloe remained rigid, her shock every bit as great as when
she had heard of her father's death. Her mind whirled, mostly with the image of
Captain Trent that Agnes's words had recently conjured up. Chloe had a sudden
horrific vision of Emma being dragged to the altar by some great, swarthy
well read. She had a way of knowing about these things. As for Chloe, she found
Agnes's description positively alarming. But before either she or Lucy could
press Agnes for the source of her information, they were interrupted by a knock
on the bedchamber door.
The maid, Polly, thrust her head inside long enough to
announce, "If you please, young ladies, Miss Emma is wishful of having a
word with you in the drawing room."
When Polly ducked out, the three sisters exchanged uneasy
glances. They were not usually so formal in their household. The last time they
had all been thus summoned it was to find Emma, red-eyed, the letter from
Captain Trent clasped in her hand as she steeled herself to inform them about
Papa.
"Now what's amiss?" Agnes slapped her book closed
and sat up. But her sharp tone did a poor job of concealing her anxiety.
"Do you think that anything has happened to Great Aunt
Martha?" Agnes asked.
"Oh, no, I am sure it is nothing terrible," Chloe
said, although she was sure of no such thing. But she sought to reassure her
younger sister, taking Agnes's cold hand within her own. For once, Agnes let
her.
The three of them crept downstairs to the drawing room,
huddling upon the threshold to peer inside. Emma was perched primly in Papa's
wing-back chair, her hands folded in her lap. She looked composed, not at all as
though she had been weeping, but Emma was good at concealing such things.
Since she had turned twenty-two, she had adopted a habit of
tucking her soft brown hair beneath a lace cap. Emma only wore it loose, Chloe
had noticed, on those days the Reverend Mr. Henry came to tea This afternoon
Emma's cap was fixed firmly in place.
She summoned a smile at the sight of her sisters. "Come
in, my dears. Do not look so alarmed. It is not anything so very dreadful I
have to tell you, I promise you."
Her words reassured Lucy and Agnes, but not Chloe. Emma's
eyes appeared serene, but there was great unhappiness present all the same.
Chloe heard it in her voice.
Lucy flounced onto the settee, sitting down in a swirl of
taffeta. "Then, Emma, I do wish you would not make such a piece of work
about it. You frightened us half to death with that summons."
"I am sorry. That was never my intent."
Chloe settled beside Lucy, while Agnes took up a post behind
the settee, tapping her foot. "I hope this will not take long. I am already
behind on my program of study for today."
"No, it won't," Emma promised. "It is only
something regarding Captain Trent's visit. He will likely be here late today or
perhaps tomorrow, Christmas Eve, you know."
"Yes, we do know that already," Agnes said
impatiently.
"What you don't know is the captain's purpose in coming
here." Emma's voice wavered a little. She was making an effort to look too
brave. A sudden terrible suspicion shot through Chloe.
"He's coming to say we cannot live here in his house
anymore, to turn us all out of doors."
"No, Chloe dear. 'Tis nothing like that."
"Then what is it, Emmy?" Lucy demanded. "It
is most unlike you to tease us so."
"It is just so difficult. I don't know how to
begin." A deep blush stained Emma's cheeks. "The truth is that
Captain Trent is coming here to marry me."
Stunned silence met this announcement, the room going so
deathly quiet, Emma was driven to repeat herself as if fearing they hadn't
understood.
"The captain and I are going to be wed. Here in the
village church."
"Well!" Lucy exclaimed. "Knock me down with a
feather!"
Agnes frowned. "This does not seem logical, Emma. You
have never met Captain Trent."
"But you know I have been corresponding with him on
matters involving the estate."
Chloe remained rigid, her shock every bit as great as when
she had heard of her father's death. Her mind whirled, mostly with the image of
Captain Trent that Agnes's words had recently conjured up. Chloe had a sudden
horrific vision of Emma being dragged to the altar by some great, swarthy
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