Proper Secrets (9 page)

“I served for eight years on the border.”

“Eight years!
 
But you’re so young!
 
How did you become a Fortcaptain in such a short time?”

“I commissioned as soon as it was legal.
 
I studied and I won battles, I advanced.
 
By the end of my second contract, I had had enough of war,” said Mr. Wingrave.

“Why do you not tell anyone?”
 
Emily’s respect for him surpassed even her resistance to forming a relationship, and she could not imagine being ashamed of his service.

“I did not enter the military with thoughts of glory.
 
I do not want to remember I was there other than knowing our country is secure.”
 
Emily pondered him in the ensuing quiet.

“You would look handsome in uniform,” she said to laughter.

“You flatter me, Miss Worthing.
 
I never thought a uniform suited me.”

“Your service is quite a secret, but it is not all, is it?” asked Emily.

“No,” he said.

“And you will not say more?”

“No.”

“I shall remember to hold myself back then,” said Emily.
 
It embarrassed her to acknowledge her rising esteem, and yet realize Mr. Wingrave failed to be open at every turn.

“That pains me, Miss Worthing,” said Mr. Wingrave.

“Such is the nature of deception.”

“I do not mean to deceive you.”
 
Emily scoffed.

“If I gave you a string, but did not tell you what was tied to it, would you not feel lied to when you pulled and it would not come?
 
Perhaps it was tied to a tree, or a great beast, but you wouldn’t know until you pulled, until you needed the string,” she said.

“Are you in need of string?” asked Mr. Wingrave.

“Oh, you impossible man!
 
Why do I bother arguing with you?”
 
Charlton was on the horizon.

“I do not know, Miss Worthing, but I’m glad you do,” said Mr. Wingrave.

“Mr. Wingrave...”

“Yes?”

“My sister has informed me that several people asked her if we had become engaged,” said Emily.

“Surely you don’t worry about the assumptions of others?”

“I do if it means I have behaved improperly.”

“And have you?” asked Mr. Wingrave.

“I don’t know,” she said after some thought.

“We have become fast friends,” he said.

“It’s not so simple as that.”

“Why not?”
 
Emily bit her lip, hesitating to bring her true feelings to the fore.

“Nevermind, Mr. Wingrave.
 
I merely think we should be mindful.”

“As you wish, Miss Worthing.”
 
The pair made it in the doors of Charlton, and to the sitting room without more squabbling.

“Mama, Mr. Wingrave is calling,” said Emily.

“Do come in!
 
Have a seat Mr. Wingrave,” said Mrs. Worthing.
 
He thanked her and found a comfortable chair.
 
Emily took up her needlework so that she would not constantly look at him.

“I see you are downstairs, Mrs. Worthing, you are doing well?” said Mr. Wingrave.

“Very well, thank you.
 
I’ve been up all day, but I am not tired yet.
 
Why have you come home so soon, Emily?
 
I expected you to be in town with Mr. Annesley most of the day,” said Mrs. Worthing.
 
The gentleman’s eyes tightened at the mention of Mr. Annesley, but he didn’t stir.

“I took ill and left my sisters in Mr. Annesley’s company,” said Emily.
 
Mr. Wingrave relaxed into amusement.

“Did the road’s medicinal properties cheer you?” said Mrs. Worthing with a sly wink.

“It was just a spell,” said Emily, scowling at her.

“How did Genevieve like him?” inquired Mr. Wingrave.

“She hid from him at first!
 
But then he charmed her into walking with him,” said Emily.

“He is a charming man,” agreed Mr. Wingrave.

“He must be, for I found out today that he stays at Reddester,” said Emily.

“At Mary’s insistence.
 
She sees it as a way to heal the rift between our families.
 
I have not heard Miss Worthing play by herself yet, Mrs. Worthing.
 
Do you think we can persuade music from her?” he said, changing the subject.

“When Emily was small I could not stop her from singing at volume, she can certainly humor me now when I ask,” said Mrs. Worthing.
 
Mr. Wingrave laughed at this different picture Emily’s mother afforded.

“Only if you spare Mr. Wingrave more stories of my childhood,” Emily said.

“On the contrary, I find them entertaining,” he said.
 
She went to the pianoforte and played a piece of her own composition.
 
It was complicated, and without lyrics, but she played it with feelings she had never experienced.
 
As her fingers wove the melody, things cleared in Emily’s mind.
 
She was falling in love with Mr. Wingrave, despite his secrets and her intentions.
 
It was astoundingly simple in this context.
 
Each note chided her for neglecting her feelings.
 
When it was over, Emily stayed bent over the keys, unable to look up.

“Darling?” said Mrs. Worthing.
 
Emily tore her eyes from the instrument to see her mother, then Mr. Wingrave.
 
She could not doubt his admiration, pouring so openly from his being.

“Pardon me,” she said, taking leave of the room.
 
Her insides ached with the rearrangement of every priority she held dear.

“Miss Worthing?” called Mr. Wingrave.
 
He caught up with her in the front hall.
 
Her face crumpled with the effort of containing herself.
 
When she did not turn to him, he moved in front of her.

“Miss Worthing?
 
Emily?
 
What is the matter?”

“You came to Tripton, inserted yourself into my company, and you’ve been upsetting me ever since, Mr. Wingrave,” she said with a weak smile.

“Emily, if I could...” Mr. Wingrave started until the door to Mr. Worthing’s study opened.

“Mr. Wingrave!
 
Glad to see you, I was just about to call on you to discuss the farms.
 
Have you a free moment?” said Mr. Worthing.

“He does, Papa.
 
I am going out to pick flowers for Mama,” said Emily.

“She will love them!
 
If you’ll follow me, Mr. Wingrave,” said Mr. Worthing as he went back into his study.

“Emily--“

“You are wanted, in the study,” said Emily.
 
Out the door she sped, away from his confusing affect on her.
 
With great industry, Emily picked the best blossoms for her mother’s vase.

When Emily could see her sisters in the distance and Mr. Wingrave had not yet departed, she went out to meet them.

“Hello dears!
 
Did you enjoy yourselves?” called Emily.

“Very much!” said Genevieve, “But I worried about you.”

“No worries, it was nothing.
 
Bridget, what did you find?” said Emily.
 
Bridget held books tied with twine.

“An adventure for you and Papa, a romance for myself and Genevieve, botany for Mama, and a memoir for Peter.”

“I have never seen two ladies with more of an interest in books.
 
I am quite impressed,” said Mr. Annesley.
 
Mr. Wingrave came out of the house, and upon seeing the gathering,
 
joined them.

“How was town this day?” he asked.
 
He gave Emily a sidelong glance.

“Wingrave, may I speak with you for a moment?
 
It won’t take but a second,” said Mr. Annesley.
 
Mr. Wingrave excused himself and led Mr. Annesley a fair distance away.
 
Emily kept a close watch on Mr. Wingrave’s countenance as Mr. Annesley delivered whatever news he felt urgent.
 
It changed dramatically when Mr. Annesley ceased speaking, going from anxious to a glimpse of the temper he’d displayed at the public dance.
 
He came back to the group quickly.

“I must away, forgive my suddenness.
 
I had a lovely day,” said Mr. Wingrave.
 
Emily felt the loss of his presence, even if she did not want to be directly with him until she could sort things out.
 
Mr. Annesley left shortly thereafter, citing business at Reddester.
 
Bridget gushed even more about him as the girls went inside.
 
Emily reveled in thinking of her sister’s romantic interest instead of her own.
 
It seemed that Mr. Annesley was less complicated than Mr. Wingrave.

The Worthings did not see either man at Charlton for several days.
 
Emily took the time to meditate on what she had discovered.
 
Had Mr. Wingrave been about to confess feelings for her, or would it be more smoke and mirrors?
 
Regardless, she had to work through what she would do now.
 
The end result of love was marriage.
 
Logic and fledgling emotions told her that Mr. Wingrave was the man she didn’t think existed, but fear held her back from relinquishing independence.

“I have to wonder why they’ve not come,” said Mrs. Worthing, “I’m convinced they are both in love.”
 
The Worthing women gathered in the parlor when food for their thoughts had run out and the absence of any visitors except the Barhams left them lonely.

“There is much we don’t know about Mr. Wingrave, and I daresay even Mr. Annesley,” said Emily.
 
Bridget bristled at the mention of him.

“Mr. Annesley has been perfectly open,” she said.

“What is his business here then?” inquired Emily.
 
Bridget flushed.

“I’m sure it’s nothing scandalous,” she said.

“Who mentioned a scandal?
 
Even seemingly innocuous quests can define character,” said Emily.
 
For once, Bridget fell speechless, Emily was correct, though it would not be admitted aloud.

“I would be happy to see Mary,” said Genevieve, “She knows everyone in Dunbarrow, tells the best stories.”

“I agree.
 
We are stagnating,” said Emily.
 
From her seat by the window, for she had been advised to get light sun, Mrs. Worthing exclaimed.

“Here comes the Wingraves’ carriage.
 
Thank goodness for I could slice the melancholy in here with a knife,” sighed Mrs. Worthing.
 
She rang for Peter, who arrived just before their guests were presented.
 
Their housekeeper, Velma, entered the parlor.

“Mr. Wingrave, Miss Wingrave, Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Annesley, and Miss Morley, ma’am,” she said.

“Thank you, Velma.
 
Good day!
 
Do come in and sit,” said Mrs. Worthing.
 
They filed in and greeted the Worthings.
 
Peter seated Mary between himself and Genevieve, while Mr. Annesley took up station near Mrs. Worthing and Bridget.

“How fare you Miss Worthing?
 
It has been a week at least since last I saw you,” said Mr. Sheridan.

“I am well, Mr. Sheridan, thank you.”

“Mr. Annesley informed me that you took ill while walking through Tripton, I hope it was temporary,” he said.

“It was.
 
At least I thought so.
 
I had a few episodes that day, probably fighting sickness,” said Emily.
 
She refused to look at Mr. Wingrave though he plainly centered himself in her field of vision.

“That is a wonderful notion,” said Mr. Annesley, “Bridget has suggested we take a picnic outside, steal some bread and cheese from the larder.”

“A magnificent plan,” agreed Mr. Wingrave, “If the ladies are up to it.”

“Mama, do you think you could come with us?
 
I shall move a chair for you to sit on,” said Emily.

“As long as I don’t overexert myself I should love to,” said Mrs. Worthing.
 
It was settled and all of them made preparations, though Mr. Wingrave would not let Emily carry a chair without doing it himself.

“I am a gentleman’s daughter, not a weak-limbed child,” she said under her breath to him.

“I would never imply that, Miss Worthing, but you would be just as offended if all these strong men let you carry your burden with no offer of assistance,” said Mr. Wingrave.

“Apparently I am contrary, too,” she said in a huff.
 
Emily joined Genevieve in conversing with Mary and Peter, pointedly gaining distance from Mr. Wingrave.
 
From there she could see quite a serious attachment forming between her brother and Miss Wingrave.
 
She would be his senior, but Peter did not mind.
 
His open, clever expression delighted Mary, and Emily applauded everything he did correctly.
 
Peter supported her in conversation, but did not assume, instead allowing Mary to choose how intimate they were.

“I’ve heard a great many times about the Worthing Library.
 
Is it as grand as the stories?” asked Mary.

“Grand?
 
If you consider brimming with books grand.
 
We are nearly out of space; Papa has been planning an additional wing,” said Peter.

“An addition to the house for books?
 
What dedication!
 
And the whole family reads voraciously, a fantastic hobby to bind you together.
 
I was also told that you make Genevieve play chess?
 
I thought it was a gentleman’s game?”