CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
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“Good morning, dear,” her mother said with a pat on Emma’s foot as she sat on the edge of her bed.
Morning? It couldn’t be. She hadn’t slept a wink. Of course, having a guilty conscience could be the reason for that, she reminded herself. “Good morning,” she groaned, draping her forearm over her eyes. This was it. In a matter of hours, she would be married.
“Nerves keep you awake?” Her mother took her noncommittal grunt as a sound of assent and continued. “Don’t worry, it will soon be over. Everything will work out as it was meant to.”
She gave a feeble nod, appreciating her mother’s way of looking on the bright side. “You’re right. It will be over soon.”
“I remember the day of my wedding,” her mother said, sighing with delight, apparently oblivious to Emma’s despair. “Of course, I wasn’t nervous at all when I thought about marrying your father. You see, he and I had more than a longstanding friendship between us. We were deeply in love.”
Her parents had openly stated their love for each other all her life, so it came as no surprise that her mother would mention it today. However, instead of fighting the urge to roll her eyes at her mother’s declaration, as she’d done for the past few years, she found herself smiling. Both she and Rathburn had been fortunate to have parents who’d loved each other.
Then again, she was sure neither of their parents had entered into marriage with the amount of guilt she was carrying at the moment. She’d had the opportunity to break their betrothal, to set him free without risk to his inheritance. Yet, instead, her foolish heart had chosen that moment to confess her darkest secret. One of them, at any rate.
Oh, Emma. What were you thinking?
Now, the wedding was only hours away. Could she go through with it? Could she really walk down the aisle, knowing that she’d had the perfect opportunity to get them both out of this mock betrothal and she’d let it slip away? Could Rathburn ever forgive her?
At the thought, she grabbed her pillow and put it over her face, hoping she might accidentally smother herself.
“I know,” her mother said snatching the pillow from her. “You don’t want to hear about it. Just remember this moment when your own daughter is about to get married, and then imagine me smirking at you.”
A daughter of her own. Rathburn’s daughter. The idea brought a tremulous smile to her lips. But wait, their agreement was to get an annulment. Why did her mother keep forgetting that part and tormenting her with what would never come to pass? For that matter, why did she?
A knock sounded at the door and Emma opened her eyes to see Lucy bringing in a tray of tea and toast. As she sat up, her mother walked around the bed and propped pillows behind her. The maid set the tray across her lap.
“Breakfast in bed?” The only time she’d had this luxury was when she’d been ill and hadn’t been able to fully appreciate it. Otherwise, her parents decreed that they take their morning meal as a family in the breakfast room.
Her mother tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smoothed the errant locks away from her forehead. “Rathburn insisted. He came to see your father and me late last night.”
Emma blushed. Rathburn had sent a note earlier this week, stating that urgent business had called him away, but that he would return in time for the wedding.
The wedding. Apparently, he planned to go through with it. He must have come by last night to reassure her parents that everything was going according to plan and that their annulment would take place the instant he received his inheritance. “Oh.”
Nevertheless, it was kind of him to think of how nervous she would be and insist on her having breakfast in bed. She smiled at the thought and felt a sense of calm wash over her. Curls of steam rose from the spout of a lovely turquoise porcelain teapot with silver filigree wrapped around the base and the tip of the spout. The fragrance of her favorite tea greeted her. Beside the pot sat a cup in the same color with silver filigree on the handle. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this service before. It’s quite beautiful.”
“Rathburn brought that as well,” her mother said with an odd catch in her voice. When Emma looked up, she saw tears glistening in her eyes. Her mother made a face and a show of batting the tears away as she resumed her seat on the edge of the bed. “A gift for you, along with a tin of jasmine tea and a small sack of sugar.”
Her heart gave a strange tug. A parting gift. Although, seen in a different light, it might be construed as quite the romantic gesture—as if he were determined to make her lose both her head and her heart over him, not knowing he already possessed both.
Her hand shook as she poured the tea into her cup.
“My, you are nervous.” Her mother laughed quietly. Taking the pot, she poured the tea with a steady hand. Then she cleared her throat. “As your mother, it’s my duty to prepare you for what awaits you in marriage. I’ve taught you how to manage a household. In fact, you’ve exceeded my instruction in that regard. As you know, the past few years, I’ve focused on myself. I credit your strong and capable character for allowing me that freedom, Emma. If it wasn’t for your innate sense of sensibility and decorum, I never would have been able to step back and take a good look at my life.”
Emma blinked. She liked that about her?
A sudden realization dawned. The greatest lesson she’d ever learned from her parents was that they would do anything for family. There were no limits. Even if they didn’t completely agree with her choices, they’d always loved her.
A wealth of tenderness filled her. No matter what happened, she was assured of their love and acceptance, if nothing else.
Her mother stood up and began walking around the room. Stopping at the vanity table, she picked up the brush and stroked the soft bristles before she wiped away another tear. “My dear, sweet, beautiful girl,” she said to Emma’s reflection in the mirror. “There comes a time in every mother’s life when she begins to realize her children won’t live with her indefinitely. She begins to see them through new eyes, and suddenly wonders where her place will be.”
“There’s no need to say this now,” she said, pressing a hand to her heart. This sounded too much like a farewell speech, even though nothing was going to change. Not really.
“That happened for me when Rathburn’s father died. I saw how quickly everything could change,” she continued, unaware of how her choice of words caused a peculiar shiver through Emma. “His mother was left alone, without the husband she loved so dearly. I saw you blossom into a woman when you decided to hold off your debut out of respect for the family that was as close as our own. It was then that I first began to see you, and I wondered how I could have missed you changing from a girl into a woman. To me, you were still the same little bundle I’d once held in my arms.”
Now, Emma fought back her own tears. “Mother, I’ll look dreadful if you keep this up. I’m not dying for heaven’s sake. Merely changing my address for a short time.” She laughed even as the tears spilled down her cheeks. “And if you ever return the parlor to its original state, I’ll return sooner.”
“Don’t be silly, we can sit in any room,” her mother said with a light in her eyes that Emma was going to miss, even for a day or two.
Suddenly, she wondered why having her mother turn the parlor into a studio ever embarrassed her at all.
“It’s getting late. Drink your tea while I finish what I came in here to tell you.”
She took a sip of her fragrant tea, letting the scent and flavor calm her nerves. Then, even though she wasn’t the least bit hungry, she took a bite of dry toast and washed it down with more tea.
“The marriage bed can be a wonderful place.”
Emma spit out her tea all over the coverlet.
Her mother paid no attention. “On the day I married your father, my mother came into my room and gave me a terrifying speech about duty and patience and a man’s baser nature. To tell you the truth, the speech left me so shaken, had it not been for the fact that I was already carrying your brother, he might never have been conceived.”
Celestine Danvers waited a beat while that tidbit of information settled in, and when Emma’s eyes widened, she nodded. “That’s right, your brother was not born prematurely. Your father and I were too much in love. For us, waiting to be together was as impossible as deciding not to breathe.”
“I don’t think I want to hear any more.”
Her mother smiled. “Since our complete expression of love came as a surprise to me, in the best possible way, I want it to be a surprise for you, too. So, I’m not going to give you my mother’s speech. I’m going to let you discover this wonderful treasure for yourself.”
Emma blinked. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”
Never mind the fact that she and Rathburn were not going to discover treasure—wonderful or otherwise—she was curious, and this might be her only chance to learn what married women talked about in hushed voices. After enduring this ruse and losing her heart in the process, she felt as if she deserved more.
“I think this way is better.” Her mother tapped the tip of her finger against her lips the way her father did with his pipe. No doubt, she’d finally remembered the annulment at the most inopportune moment. “I’ll have Tillie bring up water for a bath. Oh, and by the way, Maudette has decided to live with her sister in the country.”