The Trouble With Emma (9 page)

Her thoughts wandered, as they sometimes did, to Jeremy North. She wondered what he was doing now. How strange it was, knowing they’d be married now if things had turned out differently. She’d be Mrs Emma North and they’d live in London.

Would they have been happy? Was remaining single a mistake?

No, she decided, and tugged on the lead to pull Elton away from the brambles. She was perfectly happy. It was true she missed her sisters…even Charli. The house was too quiet by half with only her and daddy remaining at home.

But who’d look after him if she left?

The thought troubled her. While Mr Bennet was in the pink of health in most regards, he was no longer a young man. His knees troubled him and he tired more easily; she often found him sleeping in his study, slumped back against the chair and snoring softly.

Perhaps instead of fixing Litchfield Manor up, she should persuade him to sell it, and move into something smaller and easier to manage – a flat, for instance.

Even as the thought occurred she dismissed it. He’d never give up his home, and he wouldn’t leave until, as he often declared, ‘I go out in a box.’

Besides, it was too late to change her mind now – Simon Fox and Jacquetta Winspear of
Mind Your Manors
would arrive on Tuesday to have their first look round the house and property. The television wheels were in motion.

Which meant, Emma realised with sudden dismay, that as a writer and associate producer, Mark Knightley would surely be spending time at Litchfield Manor as well.

“Come along, Elton,” she said now, sharply. “We’ve a ways to go to reach Cleremont. Chop chop!”

He trotted obediently alongside her as she strode towards the Darcys’ stately home, its chimneys rising against the distant sky like sentinels.

Emma quickened her pace and told herself she wouldn’t let Knightley’s presence bother her one jot.
I’ll go about my business and he can jolly well go about his
.

“We’ll just have to make more of an effort, you and I,” she informed the dog, “not to smell of the barnyard when Mr Knightley’s around.”

Elton barked, and Emma laughed.

***

“Miss Bennet, what a pleasant surprise.”

Lady Darcy and Lady de Byrne, Hugh’s godmother, looked up from their seats at the table on the terrace as Emma climbed the steps with Elton.

“Good morning,” she said, and paused to catch her breath. “I was taking Elton for a walk and I saw you both. How are you?”

As they caught up on all the news, Lady Darcy smiled. “I expect you want to see Lizzy. She and Hugh went for a walk in the rose garden.”

As if on cue, the pair strolled up the path, arm in arm, to the terrace. “Em!” Lizzy said, and rushed forward to hug her sister. She glanced down at the dog and back at Emma. “Don’t tell me you
walked
the entire way? No wonder you stay so slim. I, on the other hand,” she added as she turned to Hugh with a sigh, “gained five bloody pounds in the last two weeks.”

“That’s to be expected on your honeymoon.” Emma joined the others at the table as Hugh excused himself and left them to it. “I’m here because I was thrown out of the house. Daddy and Martine are in a baking frenzy and tempers are a little frayed.”

“Poor dad, always in the kitchen making those scones of his,” Lizzy said, and accepted the lemonade Higgins brought her with a smile. “Has he improved at all?”

“He has, actually.” Emma thanked the butler as he set a glass of lemonade in front of her and brought a dish of water for Elton. “He’s done very well…except for those thyme and lemon scones that landed poor Miss Hornsby in hospital.”

“Araminta!” Lizzy said, and laughed. “Is he still seeing her?”

“No, things ended rather abruptly after the scone incident. They’re just friends.”

“Ah, yes, Araminta, the church organist,” Lady de Byrne murmured. She took a sip of her tea before returning the cup to its saucer with a deliberate motion. “She didn’t last much longer than I did. But then,” she added, “I do believe your father is reluctant to get too involved with anyone just yet.”

“Understandably so,” Lady Darcy agreed. “Mrs Bennet was a lovely woman and we all miss her terribly.” She reached out and patted Emma’s hand. “Still…I’m surprised no one has caught Mr Bennet’s fancy yet,” she added. “There’s no shortage of unattached widows hereabouts.”

“Oh, he’s had offers,” Emma said, and shrugged. “But daddy likes his life as it is and is in no hurry to change it.”

“Why should he be?” Lady de Byrne observed. “After all, he has you still at home to run the household and keep his life ticking along smoothly.”

“I don’t mind.” Emma heard a trace of defensiveness in her voice. “I don’t want him to be alone, with Lizzy married and Charlotte away at school. She’ll be off on her gap year next summer. She has her whole life before her.”

“And what about you?” Hugh’s godmother persisted. “What about
your
life? Aren’t you entitled to some happiness, too, Emma?”

“I like my life,” she said evenly. “I have no desire to run off and get married or join an ashram or ride a camel. I like Litchfield. I like the Manor. And I’m happy living here. Very happy.”

Lizzy covered her hand in hers. “Of course you are,” she said, and smiled.

But just beyond her sister’s smile and words of reassurance, Emma heard a trace of…pity. She thrust her chair back and stood. “Don’t patronise me, Lizzy. And don’t you dare feel sorry for me, either. I don’t need a husband to feel fulfilled, and I certainly don’t need a man to complete me. The nineteenth century is
so
yesterday, or hadn’t you heard?”

“Emma!” Lizzy stared at her in shock. “What’s wrong with you? I meant no insult, truly! Where is this coming from? Where are you going?”

Emma went to Elton, who’d flopped, panting, onto the flagstones, and retrieved his lead. “Home. Back to my empty, meaningless,
unhappy
existence.”

“Emma, really – you’re being ridiculous!” Lizzy snapped. “You’re overreacting, just like you always do. Stop it right now, and come and sit down and let’s talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Emma said, and marched down the steps with Elton at her heels. “You’re married, Lizzy, and happy, and I’m glad for you. I am. But don’t waste time feeling sorry for me, because your sympathy is misplaced. I’m happy with my life. Happy!”

With that, she turned away and stalked off before her sister and the others could see her face crumple and fall, like one of daddy’s cakes gone wrong.

Chapter 16

By the time she and Elton reached the lane that led back to Litchfield Manor, Emma’s tears had dried, but her anger remained.

How dare Lizzy feel sorry for her! Where was it written that one had to be married to be happy? Why wasn’t taking care of their father, and helping Martine to improve herself, and living a – a quiet life in the country, enough?

Lady de Byrne’s words came back to her.

What about
your
life? Aren’t you entitled to some happiness, too?

Emma felt her throat thicken once again. The truth was, she wasn't happy. She was miserable.

Oh, on the surface her life was pleasant enough, and ran along smoothly; and for that she was grateful. She was content living at Litchfield Manor and adored her father and sisters. But with Lizzy gone to London and married to Hugh Darcy, and Charlotte soon to leave on her gap year followed by university, Emma felt superfluous. Unneeded.

Although they’d never say it, she knew her family and friends expected her to get married and settle down, to have children and raise a family of her own. And the heaviness of those expectations weighed on her.

It wasn’t that she didn't want those things herself. She did, very much.

She drew in a tremulous breath. It was just that she’d begun to think that marriage, a husband, and yes, even happiness, were things she’d never have. Things she wasn’t meant to have. 

Emma sighed. She wasn’t the easiest person to be around; God knows, Jeremy had told her so often enough. She was critical and exacting and accustomed to having her way. But she only wanted to ensure the happiness of those nearest and dearest to her.

Was that really such a bad thing?

“I’ll never get married, Elton,” Emma confided as she knelt down to stroke the little dog’s fur. “I refuse to settle when it comes to finding the right man to share my life with.”

Her thoughts drifted to a summer’s evening last June, the night before her wedding.

I can’t marry you, Jeremy. I’m sorry.’

He stared at her, at the engagement ring she held out to him, in astonishment. ‘But the wedding’s tomorrow, Emma. Tomorrow! The church is booked, all of our friends are here from London…you can’t mean this.’

‘I do mean it.’ Her voice was low but determined. ‘I’ve changed my mind.’

‘Or had it changed for you?’ he bit off.

She looked up sharply. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Your good friend, Lady de Byrne, must have talked you out of it. She did, didn’t she? She took a dislike to me from the first instant we met. She advised you against marrying me…because she thinks I’m not good enough for you. Am I right?’

Emma was silent.

‘Am I?’ he demanded.

She lifted her face to his. ‘She thinks we’re wrong for each other…that we’re not suited. And I’m inclined to agree.’

‘Are you, indeed?’

‘I’m fond of you, Jeremy. I am. I thought I loved you. But – I’m sorry, but I don’t. My feelings have changed.’

‘You either love someone, Emma, or you don’t.’ His face contorted with anger. ‘A person doesn’t fall in and out of love from one day to the next, like – like changing a shirt.’

She was silent.

‘You never really loved me, did you?’ he asked suddenly.

Emma reached out for his arm. ‘Jeremy, please. Don’t make this any more difficult –’

‘Difficult for whom? For you, or me?’ He shook her hand off his arm. ‘Don’t bother to answer. I can see you’ve already made up your mind. There’s no dissuading you.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He drew in his breath. ‘If this is what you want, Emma, then we’ll call the wedding off. I’m sorry I’m not rich enough, or possessed of a title, or whatever it is you seek that you find so singularly lacking in me.’ He turned towards the library doors, and paused. ‘I’ll tell everyone I changed my mind, not you. I’d rather they think me a heartless bastard than a spurned fool.’

‘I’m sorry, Jeremy. Truly.’

‘I hope you find someone to make you happy one day, Emma.’ He reached out to grasp the doorknob. ‘But with your exacting standards – standards no man could ever hope to reach – I doubt you ever will.’

Poor Elton was panting, his little legs tired after such a long walk. Emma reached out to pick him up. “I’m sorry, Mr E. I forgot what a long walk it is to Cleremont.”

To add to her misery, the sun beat down upon her hat-less head and sent perspiration trickling down her neck. Her eyes welled once again with tears. What a thoughtless, selfish creature she was! To give no thought to anything but her own misery –

The low growl of an engine caught her notice, growing steadily louder, and she moved nearer the edge of the road with Elton cradled against her chest. Although it wasn’t going particularly fast, she knew from the low-slung silver bonnet and throb of the engine that the car was expensive.

Therefore, she was surprised when the vehicle – a Lamborghini – slowed, and the driver’s window lowered.

“Emma!” James Churchill called out. “Fancy a lift?”

“I’d love one,” she said gratefully, and climbed in as he reached over to fling open the door. “Thanks.”

He glanced over at Elton. “How’s my favourite little beast today?”

“Tired,” Emma confessed, and rubbed behind the pug’s ears. “We walked to Cleremont this morning, and I’d forgotten what a very
long
walk it is back home.”

“At least he didn’t lead you on a mad chase over a wall and into the mud this time.”

“True. New car?” she asked as she admired the black leather cockpit.

He nodded. “Always wanted one, so…I decided it was time.”

“You must be a great success in the City.”

“Comparatively speaking? Only a moderate success.” He glanced at her, and his smile faded. “Are you all right? Only –” he hesitated. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Allergies. They’re the bane of my existence at this time of year.” Which wasn’t, she told herself, exactly a lie.

Wisely, he said no more. “I’ll turn round up here and drop you back at Litchfield Manor.”

“I hope I’m not keeping you from anything?”

“Not a thing. Just giving my new toy a test drive before I head home to start laying tiles in the bathroom.”

“DIY?” she said, and lifted her brow. “I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be. You haven’t seen the result yet.”

“Why don’t you come in?” Emma offered as he turned the car up the drive to the Bennet home a few minutes later. “The least I can do to thank you for bringing me home is offer you a cup of coffee, or tea.”

“Next time, perhaps.” He got out and opened the door. “When I don’t have several boxes of tiles waiting for me. Besides – I’m sure you’re all busy getting ready for the party tomorrow.”

“Oh, I daresay my father and Martine have it all well under control.”

From somewhere in the back of the house they heard a crash, followed by Mr Bennet shouting “Damn and blast!”

Emma and Mr Churchill exchanged a glance.

“You were saying –?” he asked, and grinned.

She sighed. “I’d best go and see what’s happened,” Emma murmured, and set Elton down. “We’ll see you tomorrow at noon, then?”

“Half past. It’s the done thing to arrive fashionably late, you know.”

His eyes, she couldn’t help noticing, crinkled attractively when he smiled. “I only hope you don’t find our provincial little gathering dull, Mr Churchill. Comparatively speaking.”

“James, please. And I’ll try my best to make allowances.” He lifted his hand in farewell and turned back to the car. “Goodbye, Emma.”