Part 14 (1/2)
”You and Julian will be married on Sat.u.r.day,” Momma replied softly.
How many times had she dreamed of hearing those same words? Only, in her mind, they didn't have that sour note of regret in them. They didn't leave her feeling hollow and dead inside. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She wasn't supposed to nod somberly, all the while knowing her mother and father were so deeply disappointed in her. There was supposed to be joy, not sorrow, in the thought of her and Julian marrying. No one was supposed to be angry over it or put out by it.
”Did you hear your mother?”
She nodded. ”I did, Papa.”
”And you have nothing to say?”
”What am I to say?” She looked from her mother to her father and back again. They both seemed to expect her to say something, but she had no words. How did one respond to such a situation? It wasn't exactly something she was taught by any tutors or maids. ”I'm sorry if I brought shame on you. I never meant to. It was the last thing I would ever want to do.”
Papa sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. ”I know.” He glanced at Momma. ”We both know. Unfortunately, there is nothing else we can do about it.”
Emma's eyes stung. She didn't want to cry and fought to keep the tears at bay. Her voice broke as she said, ”Momma, I never meant to hurt you, or Papa. I meant no disrespect. None at all. And there are no words to express how terribly I feel about all of this.”
”Why?” Momma repeated and this time, Papa didn't dismiss the question.
”I don't suppose it matters much now,” Emma said, ”But Julian was going to ask to court me. I just wish he had before this happened.”
”So do I,” Papa murmured, his chair squeaking as he sat back.
Momma cleared her throat. ”Be that as it may, it no longer matters. Now, you should go upstairs. I've sent word to Mrs. Pierce that we'll need her services. She should be here soon.”
Emma nodded as she rose. ”Yes, Momma.”
The walk back to her chambers took longer than ever. What would the rest of her family think, or do, when they saw her?
She clapped a hand to her forehead. How angry would Rose be, that Emma would marry before her, especially after all she and George went through trying to fix their betrothal? And did they even manage to work out the Darcy Penrose problem? So now, on top of being a disgrace as a daughter, a failure as a temptress, she was a disloyal friend. Wonderful.
A heavy sigh rose to her lips as she sank onto the step and let her head fall into her hands. She'd ruined everything. No, that wasn't right. She and Julian ruined everything. She didn't do it alone.
”Em?” Concern softened Mary's voice as she sat beside her sister. ”Are we having a wedding?”
”Sat.u.r.day. The seamstress will be here to fit me for my wedding dress.”
”How are Momma and Papa?”
Emma lifted her head. ”I don't think I've ever seen them so sad. I did it this time, Mare. Really did it.”
”It will all be fine. One day, everyone will have forgotten all about this. Maybe we'll even laugh about it.”
Emma frowned. ”Why do I highly doubt that?”
”I don't. One day, this will all seem so romantic, and you'll laugh at how you moped about because you have to marry the man of your dreams. We should all suffer so.”
”Mary...”
”What? It's true. And now, you get to kiss him whenever you want-for the most part-and you get to do all those things we giggle and blush over when we talk about them.”
”Mary!” Emma couldn't help her smile. They did spend many an amusing hour speculating about women like Molly and why men were so eager to pay call on her.
”And don't even try to convince me you aren't thinking just that as well.”
”Guilty.” Laughter bounced off the walls as they both dissolved into giggles. For those precious minutes, the scandal was gone; it simply no longer existed. Tears clouded Emma's eyes as she leaned into Mary and they shook together, those giggles building into each other until hysterical laughter exploded from them.
Finally, the peals died and Emma wiped at her streaming eyes. Her sides ached, her heart hammered against her ribs, but she felt wonderful, as it'd been a lifetime since she'd laughed so hard. ”Oh, my...oh, my sides hurt.”
”Mine, too,” Mary gasped, rubbing her right eye. ”But it was worth it.”
”And now I wait.” The last of her good humor ebbed. The scandal wasn't gone. It was right there with her. Heavy. Gray. Awful. ”Wait for Mrs. Pierce and her army of seamstresses to poke me with pins and snap at me to stand straight and not slouch and all that wonderful nonsense.”
”I'll keep you company. It won't be so bad, with me making faces behind Mrs. Pierce's back, will it?”
Emma nudged her sister with a playful shoulder. ”That would make it absolutely bearable.”
”Good.” Mary rose and offered Emma her arm. ”Come along and let's go upstairs. We can continue wondering about wedding nights and all that while we wait.”
Emma smiled as she got to her feet. ”Wedding nights? I'm only going to have one.”
”Ah, but that's the one that counts.”
Chapter Fifteen.
CRYSTAL SHATTERED AS IT MET BRICK, but Julian didn't flinch. Instead, he glared at the soot-smeared red brick hearth in Cheltenham's parlor. The gla.s.s shards sparkled in the glow of the fire, scattered about on the hearthrug like the shattered dreams of his life. And Mr. Percival was going to have to wait a few more days again. d.a.m.n it. Why hadn't he pulled away from Emma before it was too late?
Because he was a selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.d and he wanted to kiss her, wanted to feel her body flush against his.
And now, he'd be able to do that whenever the mood struck.
He stared at the shards. Until he'd seen Emma in front of Scotch's, he hadn't given much thought to marriage. It wasn't something he ever saw in his future. How could he, when marriage meant children, and children meant another generation of madness, another generation of tainted blood?
”This is what you've left me with,” He stared up at the portrait hanging above the fireplace. Sean and Alice McCallister. They looked happy in the portrait. Not a hint of the misery that would haunt them later, that would bring about the end of their lives.
Nearly ten years had pa.s.sed. How long had it been since the last time he set foot inside Cheltenham? At least a year. Maybe longer. Not that it mattered. Tonight would be the last time he would cross Cheltenham's threshold.
”Mr. McCallister?”
He turned to the woman hovering in the doorway. ”What is it, Mrs. Pratt?”
”Is everything all right? Do you need anything?”
”Everything is fine.” He turned back to the fire. ”Although I could use a new gla.s.s.”
Her gaze slid to the shards glittering on the hearthrug. Her brows rose, but all she said was, ”Yes, Mr. McCallister.”
The soft swish of linen reached his ears as he scowled at the fire. Everything was fine. And he was getting married in the morning.