Emmy was certain Mrs. Crofton said this for her cousin’s sake. It was becoming clear to Emmy that Graham Dabney was not one to overlook shortcomings. He demanded excellence, which was exactly what Emmy needed and wanted in a mentor. She could not risk disappointing him again.
“I wouldn’t say it was a complete waste of time, Miss Downtree, but we leave on Tuesday. It’s already been arranged.”
“I will be here, with my mother, on Monday at four o’clock. I promise.”
Emmy had not wanted to involve Mum at all but now everything had changed. She desperately needed her.
Not only did she need Mum to come with her to the next meeting with the Dabneys; Emmy needed Mum to accompany her to Thistle House on Sunday so that they could take Julia back and retrieve the brides box. And it was imperative that she return with Mum so that she could keep her word and be at Cadogen Square at four o’clock on Monday. Only Mum could make that happen.
Surely Emmy could convince Mum—a woman whose own dreams had been cruelly warped by circumstances she hadn’t orchestrated—to let her go with the Dabneys to Scotland.
Surely Mum would be able to see Emmy had the opportunity to become more than the illegitimate child who had stolen Mum’s life away from her. Emmy could become a creator of beautiful things. She could be someone Mum was proud of, instead of what Emmy currentlywas: a constant reminder that whatever plans she’d had for her life had ended when Emmy was born.
Emmy really did want Mum to be proud of her.
She had to find a way to persuade Mum to help her.
“I’ll show you to the door, Emmeline,” Mrs. Crofton said.
After retrieving her jacket, they walked to the front door without saying a word. When Mrs. Crofton opened it, she reached for Emmy’s arm. “Make sure you have your sketches when you return, Emmeline,” she said softly. “I can’t stress it enough. Graham is very good at what he does, but he is also very demanding. And your mother must give her permission. Whatever differences you and your mother have, you must lay them aside. She has to come with you.”
“I understand,” Emmy whispered back. “Thank you. Thank you for making this happen.”
Mrs. Crofton squeezed Emmy’s arm. “I don’t have any other family besides Graham. I want you to go as far as you can, Emmeline. I really do. You will always have a place at Primrose.”
Emmy hugged her, grateful beyond words.
When she pulled away, Mrs. Crofton’s eyes were shimmering. “See you Monday.”
The door closed behind her and Emmy took off down the street.
Eighteen
EMMYrushed as quickly as her legs could take her back to Knightsbridge station and then sailed down the stairs to the train tracks. It was just a few minutes before four thirty. If a train came quickly, she could be at Oxford Circus station within ten minutes. She would have to run to Mrs. Billingsley’s home a few blocks away to catch Mum before she left at five o’clock. But she had to try.
Emmy knew if she caught Mum as she was getting off work, she could prepare her for coming home to Julia on her sofa. She could also use the time they would be together in public transit to appeal to her. Mum’s main reason for Emmy’s accompanying Julia to Gloucestershire in the evacuation was to make sure Julia didn’t end up in a terrible placement with ogres for caregivers. Mum had nothing to worry about now. Charlotte was every inch the ideal foster mother.
There was no reason for Mum to decline the Dabneys’kind offer except for spite. Mum had her flaws, but malice was not one of them.
If Emmy could get her to agree, then perhaps a few years down the road, when the war was long over, Emmy’s gowns would be hanging in a lovely boutique. She would have the money to get Mum out of whatever degrading situation she was trapped in. Emmy could get them all a nice flat on a quiet street and Mum wouldn’t have to be a kitchen maid anymore. She could work in the boutique with Emmy. Julia could, too. The three of them would be surrounded by lace and loveliness and happy young women shopping for the day when they would look like and feel like princesses.
These thoughts propelled Emmy as she switched trains for the Oxford Circus station and then sprinted for Mrs. Billingsley’s home off Regent Street. She had been to the home only once before. The previous Christmas, Mrs. Billingsley had invited her staff for a tea party on Boxing Day. Instead of serving, Mum got to sit in the parlor while hired hands poured tea and passed around platters of sweets and sandwiches. Emmy wasn’t entirely sure she could find the house again, but she would ring the bell on every doorstep on the block before she’d give up.
When she turned the corner onto Regent Street, Emmy scanned the homes, at once certain that the glistening gray mansion with ironwork on every window halfway down the block was Mrs. Billingsley’s. Relief flooded her; it was twenty minutes to five. Plenty of time.
Emmy rang the bell and waited, using the seconds to catch her breath. The door was opened by a woman Emmy had met on Boxing Day nearly nine months before. She remembered the woman’s name was Gladys. She seemed quite surprised to see Emmy.
“Hello. I’m Emmeline Downtree,” Emmy said. “Iam wondering if I might wait for my mother, Annie Downtree, to get off work?”
“Oh, my gracious. Is everything all right? I thought you and your little sister had been sent to the countryside.”
Emmy’s breath still came in ragged swells. “No. Yes. I mean, yes, everything is all right. We just... We just had to make a trip into London today to take care of a few errands. May I wait for her, please?”
“I’m afraid she went home early today. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“She’s left already?” Emmy’s rapidly beating heart did a somersault. Of all the days Mum had to leave early, it had to be today?
“Yes. I’m afraid so. She left at four. Maybe even before. I think she—”
