“Emmy.” He made her a formal bow. “You look quite lovely.”
She gave him the full force of her dazzling smile.
“Lud,” Aunt Marjorie said, “you will quite turn her head, Lord Ashley. I have heard nothing but compliments for Emily since I brought her to town. You will be fortunate indeed if you find time for any private conversation in the park with her.”
He smiled at Emily while Aunt Marjorie spoke, but she had looked to see what was being said about her. She blushed. Not that her head had been turned, she thought. All those silly compliments—those that she bothered to watch being spoken—meant nothing to her. Except that they amused her and kept her mind firmly off—no,on.They kept her mind on her newfound happiness.
She looked about her during the drive to the park, watching the people they passed, the elegant pedestrians, the hawkers, who were clearly yelling out news of their wares, the darting children, two dogs on leashes. It struck her suddenly that it could be very frightening indeed to be alone in such a setting—very different from the countryside, where she was rarely if ever afraid. But she had never been alone here. She was not alone now. She smiled and felt Ashley’s eyes on her. She would not look to see if he had anything to say.
Ashley. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she fought it with every ounce of her being.
He offered his arm when they had descended from the open carriage and begun to walk. She loved the straight, tree-lined Mall, with its crowds of strollers and groups of people in conversation together. Sometimes she liked to look up to see the branches and the leaves against the sky. But more often she preferred to watch the people and to feel at one with them. Today she could seem to feel only the muscles in Ashley’s arm and the warmth of him. Finally she looked up at him from beneath the brim of her hat. He was looking at her, that smile in his eyes. A smile that did not touch his lips.
“You are happy, Emmy?” he asked her.
She told him with sparkling eyes how happy she was. She gestured about her. How could she not be happy?
“Penshurst is rather lovely,” he told her. “’Tis in a valley with a broad park stretching from the house to the road. Between the house and the village to one side of it there is a broad river with a river walk inside the park, which was constructed for maximum beauty and seclusion. And behind the house are wooded hills, mostly quiet and shady but with the occasional and unexpected prospect over miles of quiet countryside. There is a summerhouse up there. ’Tis even furnished, though it has not been touched in years, I believe.”
Penshurst. It was where he lived. Where he belonged. Where Alice had lived. Where he would have lived with her and their son if they had not died.
“You would like it, Emmy.” He had bent his head closer to her and touched his hand to hers. “I wish you could see it.”
For a moment she felt dizzy with yearning. But for only a moment. No, she told him. She laughed and indicated with one arm again the formal elegance of the walk ahead of them and the fashionable splendor of their fellow strollers. This was where she wanted to be. This was where she belonged.
He brought her eyes back to his face. “Do you speak the truth?” he asked her. They were both signing, she realized, with one hand each. “It makes me sad to see—”
But she did not catch the rest of his sentence. She did not learn what it was that made him sad. Two gentlemen had stopped before them and were smiling and making their bows to her. Two gentlemen who were part of her usual group. They complimented her on her appearance, asked her if they would see her at this evening’s ball, bowed to a silent Ashley, and proceeded on their way. She smiled brightly at Ashley.
“I do not wonder at your success,” he said. “But is it what you want, Emmy?”
Of course it was. Could he not see it? She told him so with her free hand and her smiles. Then she thought of something else. “Yess,” she said, her eyes sparkling into his. Her one and only word. Her full repertoire.
“I could have taught you the rest of the dictionary, Emmy,” he said. “I still could. And you could have taught me—”
But Mr. Maddox, a young lady on his arm, was making his bow to her and asking her how she had enjoyed the ballet last evening.
She would not look at Ashley after they moved on. She could not. She could feel her defenses, like a very thin veneer, in danger of crumbling. She had not even admitted to herself until now that they were just defenses, that she was not really enjoying herself at all. That her heart was all broken up inside her. And she knew too that Ashley had found no peace since she had last seen him, and probably never would. He did not need to use words or sign language to tell her that.
He touched her hand again and squeezed it, and she had no choice but to look up at him. “I felt sorry for Powell,” he said, “that morning out at the falls when you would not look at him, Emmy. Now you are doing it to me.”
She gazed at him and realized with some surprise that her mask had not deserted her. She was smiling.
“Emmy.” He bent his head very close. She guessed that though he was moving his lips he was making no sound at all. “Is there still a chance that you are with child?Areyou with child?”
She was not. She had been late, and then she had found her hands shaking out of control with relief when she had discovered she was not. And later, after she had tended to herself, she had thrown herself across her bed and cried. But not necessarily with relief.
Her smile had gone. No, she told him. There would be no child. Any obligation he still felt toward her was over. He was free to think of her merely as a sister again. But she could not tell how relieved he was. His eyes merely gazed back into hers until she lowered her own to his cravat. Yes, there had been the possibility. For two days she had thought... But it had not been so.
And she had been sorry. How foolish and irrational emotions could be. If she had been with child, she would have had to marry him. To marry the man who was dearer to her than her own heart while she was merely a dear sister in his eyes. It would have been intolerable. Far more intolerable than this was.
She raised her eyes and smiled at him.
And then she was distracted by another couple who had stopped before them. She turned to look, but she did not know them. They were both smiling at Ashley.
“We meet again so soon,” the man said while the woman laughed.
Emily looked at Ashley. He was nodding in acknowledgment of them. She saw his hesitation, but then he looked down at her.
