Betrothed To Danger (1) A young man of about five and twenty stormed out of the house, boarded a carriage and promptly ordered the driver to drive off. A look of revulsion was upon his face and as he drove away from the elegant house of a gentleman, recently deceased, he did not look back or to be sure, even consider it, staring adamantly ahead. Inside, a young lady opened a door and strode out of the room she had been occupying. She was dreadfully irritated. You could tell by the look on her face. She slid down the wall in a less than elegant manner, though she had never been keen on her late father’s way of upper-class life. She muttered words under her breath that her mother would have insisted had been heard from the village as they would never have been spoken by a lady. The girl sat beside the wall, her face red and flushed. She awaited her mothers cue to come in with a feeling that undeniably wasn’t excitement. Right on time, a woman’s voice rung through the hallway. “Emma? What did Mr Roberts want with us?” Emma sighed and walked into the kitchen where a lady in her late years was sitting at a table, looking expectant. Bitterly, Emma launched her excuse of why he had waited on them and left again so abruptly. She was interrupted by the entrance of a woman, little older than Emma herself. She had the same amount of curiosity though she tried to hide it more than the mother who felt no shame in being inquisitive. “Yes Emma, what did he want this time?” The woman grinned, emphasising the word ‘this’. Emma looked around at her Governess who was more of a friend than a Governess. Emma smiled weakly. She couldn’t lie to Miss Taylor, however easy it was to spin a tale about a sudden problem at home demanding swift attention, to her mother. “Oh Miss Taylor, he wanted me to marry him!” Emma received the expected reaction from both her governess and her mother. Miss Taylor took a sharp intake of breath and declared Mr Roberts a worthless man with no right to be asking fair maidens’ hand’s for the mere reason of want of money. Though Emma felt compelled to gasp at this mistaken disclosure, Emma had known full well why she had been in that situation with that simply horrid man. She forced a gasp, as ladies in her position were obliged to do, but said no more on the subject as there was no longer any need, since Mr Roberts would not come back. “But, oh Miss Taylor, I do wish you had have seen it. The look on his face when I told him I would like nothing to do with him or his rather amiable estate, as I am the first to admit it is a very agreeable estate indeed. Though, to think rejection could be such a powerful thing. I must go to find someone who I can reject!” Miss Taylor laughed heartily. “Oh Emma, you will be the death of your mother and I. I should think such a fierce person as you would not see a compliment if it were to dance around in front of you! You must control yourself, or you will turn out to be an old maid like Old Miss Dorest down the road.” “I know Miss Taylor,” replied Emma, blushing, “but the men are all so dreary and plain here. And, if they are not wretchedly unagreeable, then they are to be boring and unintelligent. And you must agree Miss Taylor, that a well educated man is indeed a fine man. When I am to be married, it will be to a kind, clever and very handsome man. And he will love me dearly and treasure me, so that when I am sick, or missing my home, here with you and Mamma, he Will place me sweetly in our private carriage with my two, gorgeous white horses in front, and sing me to sleep while I rest on the way to my destination. And, ah yes, of course, he must have a love of music that no other except myself can possess. And play it so softly that he will be renowned for his work, and get awfully rich.” Miss Taylor beamed admiringly at her friend, who was reciting her dream so gaily that it almost brought tears to Miss Taylor’s eyes, though she was reluctant to confess it. “It will be an act of God indeed if such a man you are to find. I must wish you every ounce of hope in my body that you will be as happy as you make me, dear Emma.” Emma’s mother had exactly the expected reaction to this too. She was not shocked about the proposal itself, she had in fact hastened it herself, but she was horrified at the prospect of his proposal being turned down, by her own daughter! Emma and Miss Taylor realised what the intake of breath of the mother was for, and both did nothing major about it for the time being. Mrs James retreated from the table and slunk into a chair behind her, demanding to know where the house maid was. Mrs. Harford bustled in with tea for her mistress, which was accepted with much relief. Emma and Miss Taylor exchanged unsurprised glances and exited the room with no more haste than was necessary to quit a room of the Drawing Room’s size. Miss Taylor sat up in bed. She couldn’t sleep. If there was one man that could almost take advantage of Emma, there was certainly more that could entirely. At present, she was being protected by her determination not to marry, but when that determination ran out or when, God forbid, her mother died and the flow of money was gone so she was forced to marry to survive, there was nothing Emma would be able to do to prevent making the worse decision of her life. She wouldn’t get a job to get money, no matter how hard Miss Taylor tried to persuade her. She refused to study, and refused to believe she would ever go poor. Miss Taylor quickly reached a decision to talk to Emma about it with out a hint of delay. She slipped on her slippers and reached for her candle. Proceeding to open her room door and descend the stairs seemed an effortless chore for one who had so often made their way to a friend’s room. Miss Taylor crept along the hall, approaching Emma’s room, intending to knock on her door and trust she was awake. As she crossed the top of the stairs, a sound from the floor below caught her attention. Stopping at the very top of the stair case, Miss Taylor froze and listened intently. It sounded like the scratch of a pen on paper. She carried on listening and heard the unmistakeable sound of a pen dipping into ink. Slowly, cautiously, and as quietly as possible, Miss Taylor stole down the stairs and saw Mrs James perched over a letter, pausing in considerable thought, evidently over how to word her letter. Inquisitive as to who Mrs James could possibly be writing to at this hour, Miss Taylor crept further still. Her inquisitiveness grew ever stronger, until, with a slight tilt of her head, Mrs James spoke into the darkness as to who was there. Miss Taylor, suddenly alarmed at how close she had sneaked to her object of interest, realised how doubly close she was to the danger of being found out. Aware of how loud she appeared to be breathing, Miss Taylor slunk into the shadows, hoping to block herself from view, while Mrs James felt her way around the darkening room to find the culprit of the noise. Mrs James walked away from Miss Taylor’s hiding spot beside the tapestry and Miss Taylor breathed a sigh of relief, though very quietly. She was just contemplating returning to her room however, when Mrs James unexpectedly lit a candle, to help her find her way back to her room. The rays from the candle bathed the room in a dim light, freezing Miss Taylor in an uncomfortable crouching position. Sweating from the struggle, and cursing herself for being so foolish as to move while her Mistress was still in the room, Miss Taylor fell backwards onto the floor with a dull thud. Mrs James snapped her head around, fixing her glower on the Governess, though clearly astonished. With a slightly bothered voice, Mrs James inquired into Miss Taylor’s being there. Miss Taylor uncertainly and not at all like her customary positive self, made a feeble excuse of requiring a drink dreadfully and then falling asleep by the tapestry. She knew Mrs James saw instantly through this disgraceful excuse, but remarkably, she did not pursue the matter. In point of fact, Mrs James looked quite ill at ease as to what the next topic would be. Noticing this anxiety, Miss Taylor’s confidence slowly seeped back and she cautiously inquired into whom she had been writing. Mrs James hung her head, before recollecting herself and said rather arrogantly, “I am writing to inform Mr Roberts how delighted we are that he and my daughter are to be wed on March 16th. We are pleased, and await the day with great anxiety and anticipation.” Miss Taylor heard the news, and greeted it with a thought so wicked that to speak it would be to be damned to a life’s imprisonment. Therefore, with much bitterness, Miss Taylor simply forced a smile and stated the date was just a month from now. Mrs James agreed with this statement and added that it would be the perfect timing for no one to mess things up. She then, quite pompously turned on her heel and stalked up the stairs, before turning and added in a cold manner, “I think Miss Taylor; it is time you decided where your loyalties lie. You should realise, Emma must marry Mr Roberts to secure my family continues and if you had any civility, you would whole heartedly agree. Don’t you think?” “And Emma? What part does she have to play in this marriage?” “She will be informed in the morning. She will agree. She will walk down the isle a month from now on the arm of Mr Roberts. I am not concerned that it is not to her absolute taste. It is time she grew up and realised she mustn’t be fastidious in her gentlemen. And Miss Taylor? See to it she is there and I Will consider keeping you in my house in spite of your lack of discipline and reliability.” Miss Taylor stared after her withdrawing back, unable to believe what she had heard, and knowing there was nothing she could do to help. Mr Roberts arrived early the next morning, much to the delight of Mrs James, and discomfort of her daughter. Emma called Miss Taylor urgently into her room to ask why the gentleman was here. Miss Taylor hung her head in shame and regretfully told her friend about the marriage between them to be held in no more than a month’s time. Emma’s cry of dismay rung in Miss Taylor’s head for quite some time, if truth be told until she had retired to her bed and sleep had ridden her from the remorse that she felt though didn’t truly deserve. Emma hastened down to the hall, jumping the stairs two at a time, to where her mother and now her fiancée stood quite startled at this display from an upper-class lady. Emma had no mind to apologise for her actions however and promptly stood facing her mother’s shocked expression in disbelief. “Mamma, what is this Miss Taylor tells me of a marriage between myself and this” Emma glanced at Mr Roberts with a look of utter loathing “this man who claims to be in love with me, but behind that obsequious disguise is in fact a wicked, sinful and positively unagreeable man that I would not marry for you or my poor late father! The mere thought makes my stomach turn with distaste. I hope my Governess is wrong for once.” “Indeed, your delightful Miss Taylor is correct. You and I are to be wed in London on 16th March. One month from now.” Emma looked at Mr Roberts, unable to think accurately. Surely, this information could not be true. This wicked man could not be her future husband. She had not consented to it, how could it therefore be? “Had your mother not warned me of your diligence and wariness,” Mr Roberts continued easily, “I would be off put by your petty outburst. But, truth be told, I find my love for you would not be put off by something as irrelevant as that. Come now dear, won’t you come walk with me? I would dearly love to see your quaint little village I hear so much about.” Scarcely able to take in a word being said, Emma staggered backwards out the house, turned and ran over the stones and down the cobbled path to the village. She knew not where to go, as she knew no person in the village, only going with Miss Taylor before. She tore off her bonnet and threw it in the river besides which she was running, stumbled and came to a halt on the grass which was still wet with the dew from the night before that had not yet been melted by the early morning sun. Emma put her head in her hands and wept bitterly, unaware of the looks she got from the villagers passing by. For several minutes Emma knelt beside the river crying. Eventually, eyes red and swollen, she stopped and silently watched the ducks in the river and the fish that could just be seen beneath the murky waters. Emma only became aware of the time when she felt how ravenous she was, and remembered she had missed breakfast. Remembering why she had missed breakfast, Emma ignored the rumbling in her stomach. Hearing the clatter of horses’ feet on the cobbles currently driving past was unlike the ones she had heard of the various traders, she looked up and saw to her alarm Mr Roberts’s carriage. Mr Roberts could be seen through the window, searching around for an escaped maiden, who decided didn’t want to be seen, and slipped underneath a bridge, waiting for the carriage to go by. “Hello, are you okay?” someone asked from beside her. Emma looked around, startled by this sudden presence. She suddenly became aware of what she looked like. Her hair was unbrushed and flying in the wind, her face was streamed with tears and her eyes were swollen and red from where she had been crying. Her skirt had mud all up the hems and her overcoat was hanging from her left shoulder which she had forgotten to tie up in her haste to leave the house. She looked a state and was suddenly very conscious of it. She turned to look at the speaker of the voice. His hair was just as scruffy, though he had had the sense to roll the bottoms of his trousers up before coming under the bridge. He certainly wasn’t a gentleman and Emma felt inclined to depart. She looked at him again, and saw his eyes for perhaps the first time. There was nothing much special about them; they were a normal brown, except there was something about them that was captivating. They had a presence of wisdom and kindness, though he couldn’t have been any older than one and twenty. He smiled sweetly and ran his hand through his hair laughing. “You haven’t exactly caught me at my best” he grinned at her. Emma was enthralled. Hanging onto his every word, Emma sat in silence while he spoke about his work at a clothes shop. She sat and stared at him, at his eyes. The Young man put his hand on hers stroking it soothingly. “Are you okay?” he asked, his anxious voice captivating Emma. Emma looked down as her hand was lovingly comforted. The young man, suddenly aware of what he was doing, quickly retreated his hand, apologising embarrassedly. Emma blushed, saying he need not be uncomfortable; her mother was back at home. “I wish to know your given name however. It distresses me so to think I am to speak with you and not know your name, for I should never find you again. Prey, what is your name?” “I am Will. I however know your name. You are Emma. The owner of the shop for I work and live with goes into town often. Your late father was much respected there. As where you. I took notice of many men wishing to be of your acquaintance. You know not of the heart throb you cause.” Emma blushed violently, “You are indeed correct sir, I did not know so many men knew of me. How did I not hear until now of these men that await me in London?” “I believe it was your mother, Mrs James that forbade the existence of any relationship between you and these men. Did not she tell you?” “To be sure, my mother has many things yet to be disclosed.” “You talk as though your mother has recently done you wrong. Would it be too improper to ask you about it?” “Certainly it is not. My mother went behind my back to arrange a marriage between myself and the most horrid of men, a Mr Roberts, to whom I have already refused, but my proud mother agreed to him without my consent, and now I am doomed to a dull and uninteresting life with a wicked man who’s only advantage in life is his handsome estate, which is not nearly handsome enough to overcome his malice. He has many a dept and looks for a wife with money. Of course, I, being the only child in my family, am an obvious objective. I know not what my purpose in life is yet to be Will, but maybe I am to be a wretched house wife, trapped in a marriage. My mother seems to think it is an outstanding outcome in life. I have yet to decipher how she came about such a foolish idea.” “I am quite stunned by your story Miss Emma. Such a prospect to which you face is a circumstance that I would not wish upon a half as fine a woman as you. Nonetheless, though your mother is quite immoral, you can not run away from a dilemma like you did. I presume that is why you are beneath this bridge.” “Regrettably, that is for sure the reason I am under here, in such a state as I am. I know you are right in telling me my mother was wrong, but the thought of walking to this village with that man, all smiles and laughs is insufferable. Had you spent a moment in his company I would readily bet you would find him as intolerable as I do.” “What did you say his name was?” “Roberts, Mr Roberts. Why do you ask? Do you know of him? Is he well-known in London too?” Will looked thoughtful, then quite grave before recovering himself quickly and saying “Yes, quite familiar. He is quite popular in town, or so I am told. He is highly regarded, and quite the gentleman. I am merely curious as to why you perceive him in the manner you do?” Emma looked thoughtful before replying with a tone of voice that implied the conversation was over, “It is in his air. As he walks, he seems to say he is special and owns every part of the room. When he talks, he expects people to listen to his every word and agree whole heartedly. With every little thing he does, he is posing the thought that he is a kind man, but doing nothing to maintain this thought except a bullying, intimidating silence that no one wishes to disagree with. It is no wonder he is thought, or at least, spoken highly of. But I have the talent to see through that disguise to the man beneath. The only other person I know of to be able to do that with that particular gentleman is my Governess, Miss Taylor, who taught me to see people for who they are. She taught me every thing I know.” “She must be a very special woman to be able to produce such an elegant pupil, as kind to the good as she is ruthless to the wicked. I’m sure I would like to meet such a fine woman. Won’t you bring her to my clothes shop?” “I will try. I’m sure Miss Taylor would be happy to wait on you. We should come by tomorrow.” “I will await you with eagerness. But please, do me the honour of leaving behind your upper-class talk. I do not want you and your Governess to wait on me. I have had my share of upper-class life, and am happy to leave it to the selfish and honestly the most self-centred, upper-class people. Though, please, forgive me, I was not meaning to offend either you or your friend. It is just upper-class life infuriates me so.” “What do you mean you have had your share of upper-class life? Have you been a member of a rich family? Did you hate it so dreadfully that you had to leave? Do I guess correctly?” Will grew serious “No. You do not.” Cried he, “And further more, it is not a subject of which I am eager to converse with you. Please do not deprive yourself of sleep over my shameful confession. I will see you tomorrow.” Emma was quite outraged at his tone of voice and unwillingness to disclose something as petty as that when she herself had disclosed a problem of which should never have left her house. She should have never have left her house, and she told her companion so. Getting up, she swiftly stepped out from under the bridge, and holding her hair away from her face, stalked away up the path to her home. Unable to resist the urge to look back to see what his expression was, Emma saw Will walking down a different lane, into the heart of town, and with a strange jump in her heart, observed a look on his face, which was still visible, of patent regret. Emma turned around, stopping suddenly, surprised at this expression, and looked more closely at his face. Seeing a determined, face, staring fixedly onward, down to where he was headed, Emma, deciding she had seen what she wished to see, stalked off again, resolute not to think of him again. It was only when she had travelled almost a quarter of a mile did she realise she had supposed she wished to see him looking sorrowful, and bitterly corrected herself, for she was glad he did not wish for her to still be there, what cause would she have to wish for such a thing? She was glad to be rid of him herself. She made a mental reminder not to think about him. Making as good as the equivalent sort of mental note, Will walked into his clothes shop, sat down between the dusty shelves and sighed indignantly. Unlike the headstrong Emma, he knew when he didn’t have enough will power to keep a resolution. As the Owner of the shop was in town today and business was moderately low, Will was left alone to his thoughts in a resentful silence. Emma tried to keep her mind elsewhere for the remainder of the day. As she walked back into the house, she saw to her delight Mr Roberts had gone home, or else was still looking for his escaped fiancée. Her mother was sitting in the drawing room, determined not to look at her daughter and inquired as to her whereabouts of the morning, with her face turned and her expression bitter and aggrieved. The only warm welcome Emma got was from her Miss Taylor who looked to be quite indignant toward Emma’s mother. Backing out the drawing room silently, Emma retreated upstairs, her Governess following her just as mutely. Emma slumped on the bed and covered her face with her muddy hands angrily before cursing and getting up to wash them in the small basin of water in her room. As she knelt beside the basin she was reminded of the similar state Will was in and was just speculating whether he would be required to wash himself so harshly to look adequate when her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on her door which caused her to turn around sharply in a guilty approach before allowing the visitor to enter. It was Miss Taylor. She looked knowing and on the verge of telling her friend something, before hesitating and moving to back out the room again. Emma watched the display silently, a politely confused look on her face. At the door, Miss Taylor stopped and looked back “I hope you will be clean with a suitable excuse for your dirtiness which has something to do with your whereabouts this morning I presume. And,” she added adamantly “I won’t hear those cursing words from your mouth again, understand? A young lady of your standard is not to go around using that vulgar language for she should never be wed to a correct and proper man.” “I never will be now in any case with gratitude to you and my dear mother for sure. And I also heard you have been keeping a certain fact from me that many men would wish to seek my hand if it were not for my mother who forbids them? Did it slip your mind Miss Taylor? Were you ever going to tell me? Perchance I would have been told when I was married to that awful man that I could have several much more agreeable men at my call if I did so desire it. When it was too late I suppose. When I was already trapped. I never thought I would have to say this Miss Taylor, but I am thoroughly surprised at you. I thought you the kindest person in Britain, but I see today I was wrong.” Miss Taylor put up her hand to stop her pupil promptly. “Indeed, the facts to which you hold me are not entirely true. Had I had a say in the matter of this marriage, I would have certainly forbade it. But your mother did it all, though she was acting for what she felt was the best, and I beg of you not to blame her. As for the other case you referred to, I sincerely had no idea. I marvel perhaps where you got your sources from, and I would not be so hasty in finding fault in people whose fault it may not be.” Emma looked away, humiliated by her unjust accusations. With a remorseful tone of voice, she apologised to her Governess who argued it had done her no harm and was henceforth forgotten. Emma was left to her thoughts once more, and all the more confusing they had become having no longer someone to hold responsible. The following morning, Emma awoke with her spirits high and all thoughts from the former night forgotten or ignored. Miss Taylor looked up, surprised at the blissful look on her friend’s face. “I think I shall go into town this morning” said she with a gleeful look upon her face. “I am in need of a good book, I finished latest one, did you know?” “But Emma, Mr Roberts is coming over this morning to discuss the wedding. You must attend that” said her mother sharply.
Copyright © 2003 Emma Trew |