A Game of Hearts

Chapter Eleven

Dawn crept into Emma’s chamber, finding her already awake and dressed. She had barely slept, spending the night alternating between composing and rejecting possible excuses for avoiding company. In the end, the simplest solution had presented itself - a megrim. Society expected young ladies to suffer from delicate heads and nerves, particularly after emotional upheaval.

Though in truth, her head did ache somewhat from a night spent trying not to cry anymore.

“Your breakfast, Miss.” Susan entered carrying a tray. “And Lady Agatha sends word that she’s informed the Duchess that you’re indisposed this morning. She suggested that rest and quiet might help your megrim.”

Emma’s throat tightened with gratitude for her aunt’s understanding.

“Thank you, Susan. Has... has everyone else gone down?”

“Yes, Miss.” Susan’s hands were careful as she arranged the tray, her voice deliberately casual. “Though Lord Limnwood was asking after your health when I passed the breakfast room. He seemed quite concerned.”

Emma’s hands clenched in her lap.

Concerned now, was he? After publicly assuming the worst of her character?

“How fortunate that my indisposition saves him from having to maintain proper behaviour in my presence,” she said, unable to quite keep the bitterness from her voice.

Susan’s expression softened with sympathy, but she maintained the fiction of ignorance.

“Cook sent up her special tea for megrims. And Lady Agatha said to tell you that the morning’s activity is botanical drawing - nothing that absolutely requires your presence.” Emma nodded, relieved. Botanical drawing would keep everyone occupied in the conservatory, well away from her chamber. She could maintain her dignified retreat without causing comment. “Will there be anything else, Miss?”

“No, thank you.” Emma managed a small smile for the maid’s obvious concern. “Though... if anyone asks...”

“You’re resting quietly, Miss, and not to be disturbed.” Susan’s chin lifted slightly. “And if certain persons should try to send notes or messages, I’ll be sure to tell them you’re sleeping.”

Emma’s smile became more genuine. Trust Susan to understand without being told.

“Thank you.”

Left alone, she picked at her breakfast, remembering yesterday morning’s joy. Had it really been only yesterday that she and Nathaniel had shared that moment in the woods, that kiss that had seemed to promise so much more? It felt like a lifetime ago. Like something that had happened to someone else entirely.

A burst of laughter from the garden below drew her to the window. She peered carefully around the curtain, watching the house party guests make their way to the conservatory. Lady Anne walked with Lord Radmill, her expression supremely satisfied. The sight made Emma’s stomach clench.

What tales were already circulating about yesterday’s events in the library? What subtle poison was Lady Anne spreading among the guests?

Movement near the house caught her eye. Lord Limnwood emerged, his usual straight-backed military bearing somehow diminished. Even from this distance, she could see the tension in his shoulders, the way that he held himself apart from the general conversation.

Good, some uncharitable part of her thought. Let him feel some fraction of the discomfort that he had caused her.

But even as the thought formed, her traitorous heart ached at his obvious distress.

She stepped back from the window, angry with herself for still caring about his feelings when he had so comprehensively demonstrated his lack of trust in her.

*****

James had noted Lady Anne’s growing satisfaction throughout the morning’s botanical drawing session. Her smug glances towards his brother, her whispered conversations with Miss Morton - it all spoke of someone enjoying the fruits of their schemes rather too openly.

So when she and Miss Morton slipped away from the main group, heading towards the smaller connecting greenhouse, James found himself following at a discrete distance. The connecting greenhouse’s design created interesting acoustics - something he had discovered during previous house parties at Pelham Hall.

Sound carried remarkably well from certain spots to others.

He positioned himself near a large orange tree, apparently absorbed in sketching its blossoms. Lady Anne and Miss Morton settled on the far side of a towering palm, clearly believing themselves private.

“Really, Anne,” Miss Morton’s voice carried clearly, “it worked out even better than you planned. Though I was terrified when Lady Agatha appeared - I thought for certain...”

“Oh, that hardly matters now.” Lady Anne’s satisfaction dripped from every word. “The damage is done. Lord Limnwood showed his true nature – he was so quick to believe the worst! Though I confess, I’m a little disappointed. After watching them grow so close, and seeing that kiss in the garden...” Lady Anne’s satisfaction dripped from every word. “I thought I might need more evidence, more careful manipulation. But no - one staged scene was all it took. Men who pride themselves on propriety are so very easy to manage, especially when they’re fighting their own feelings.”

James’ pencil stilled. He hardly dared breathe for fear of missing a word.

“But surely, given that Lady Agatha witnessed...”

“What can she prove?” Lady Anne laughed softly. “That she was present? That means nothing. The scene played out exactly as I had intended - Miss Everton’s reputation is tarnished, Lord Limnwood’s trust in her is shattered. He’ll have to look elsewhere for a suitable wife now.”

“To you, you mean?”

Miss Morton’s tone held a trace of envy.

“Naturally. Though I confess, his quick condemnation of Miss Everton was almost disappointing. I must hope that I can capture his affections more thoroughly than she obviously had – I would not want to be so easily disregarded myself!”

James had heard enough. He moved away carefully, his mind racing. Here was everything they needed - proof of her scheming, her own admission of staging the scene.

But how best to use it? A slow smile spread across his face as he considered the possibilities. The dinner table tonight would provide the perfect setting for Lady Anne’s schemes to unravel - with the entire house party present to witness it.

He needed to speak with Lady Agatha immediately. Together, they could ensure that Lady Anne’s carefully laid plans rebounded upon her own head.

And perhaps, finally, his fool of a brother might have a chance to make things right with Miss Everton.

James found Lady Agatha in her private sitting room, a maid arranging tea things nearby. Perfect - the presence of a servant would make his visit entirely proper while allowing them to speak freely in carefully chosen words.

“Lord James.” Lady Agatha’s keen eyes assessed his expression. “How kind of you to join me for tea. Mary, another cup if you please.”

He waited until the maid had arranged everything to Lady Agatha’s satisfaction and stepped back to a discrete distance.

“I’ve had the most interesting morning in the conservatory. Lady Anne seems quite pleased with herself.”

“Indeed?” Lady Agatha’s tone was perfectly modulated, but her gaze sharpened. “Do tell me about the botanical drawings. I understand that some of the most fascinating conversations occur among the plants.”

“Oh yes.” James stirred his tea, choosing his words with care. “Particularly near the orange trees. The acoustics there are really quite remarkable. One hears the most... illuminating things about careful plans and their success.”

Lady Agatha set her cup down with deliberate precision.

“How fascinating. And did these... acoustics... provide any particular insights into yesterday’s events?”

“Several.” James allowed himself a small smile. “Including some rather telling admissions about the crafting of certain notes, and satisfaction at how easily some people can be manipulated.”

“I see.” Lady Agatha’s eyes gleamed. “And would you say that these... insights... might be worth sharing at dinner? When, most likely, all of the interested parties might benefit from such knowledge?”

“I thought that very thing.” James leaned forward slightly. “Though timing would be crucial. Too early, and some might leave to avoid the revelation. Too late, and the impact would be lessened.”

“The fish course, I think.” Lady Agatha nodded decisively. “Early enough to prevent escape, late enough that everyone is settled. And of course, all interested parties must be present.”

Her meaning was clear - Emma must attend dinner. James frowned slightly.

“Will she be willing? After yesterday...”

“Leave that to me.” Lady Agatha rang for the maid. “Mary, please tell Susan that I wish to speak with her about Miss Everton’s evening dress. The blue silk, I think.”

As the maid departed, Lady Agatha turned back to James.

“Now then, let us be precise about exactly how this revelation should occur. We want maximum impact with minimum appearance of manipulation. Everything must appear completely natural.”

“Unlike some people’s careful planning?”

James couldn’t quite hide his satisfaction.

“Precisely.” Lady Agatha’s smile held steel. “Sometimes the best revenge is simply allowing truth to speak for itself. Though perhaps with carefully chosen timing and audience.”

James raised his cup in salute to her clever mind. Between them, they would ensure that dinner proved most enlightening indeed.

*****

A tap at her door preceded Lady Agatha’s entrance. Her aunt surveyed the barely touched breakfast with a critical eye.

“You must eat something, my dear. Maintaining dignity requires strength.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Still, Emma picked up a piece of toast at her aunt’s stern look.

“No? Well, perhaps you’ll have more appetite when I tell you what I’ve observed this morning.” Lady Agatha settled into a chair. “It seems that Lady Anne’s triumph is not quite complete.”

Emma’s hand stilled.

“Oh?”

“Indeed. Lord James appears to be watching her most carefully. Almost as if he suspects something.” Lady Agatha’s tone was deliberately casual. “He’s had quite an interesting morning already, spending time in conversation with Lady Anne’s particular friend, Miss Morton.”

Something in her aunt’s voice suggested deeper meanings, but Emma was too tired to untangle them.

“I’m sure it’s all very interesting, but I cannot bring myself to care about house party intrigues today.”

“No?” Lady Agatha rose. “Well, perhaps you’re right. Though I suspect that by dinner time you might find that events have taken some surprising turns.” She paused at the door. “You need not join us for luncheon - I’ll have a tray sent up. But I think, my dear, that you might wish to dress for dinner. If only to show certain persons that your dignity remains untouched by their poor judgment.”

After her aunt left, Emma stood at the window again, watching the distant figures in the garden. What had Lady Agatha meant about Lord James and surprising turns of events?

But she was too weary to puzzle it out. For now, this quiet room was her sanctuary. Everything else could wait.

*****

Emma looked up from her book as Lady Agatha entered her chamber. She hadn’t taken in a single word of it in the past hour, but it provided a shield against well-meaning interruptions.

“My dear,” her aunt’s voice held just the right note of casual interest, “I believe it’s time we discussed this evening’s dinner.”

“I had still hoped to just have a tray sent up.”

Emma’s fingers tightened on her book.

“No, no, no. As I said to you earlier today, circumstances change – people overhear the most interesting things. And that means that you absolutely must come down to dinner.” Lady Agatha settled into a chair, her expression thoughtful. “Tell me, what do you imagine people are saying about yesterday’s events?”

Emma’s breath caught.

“I try not to imagine it.”

“Perhaps you should. After all, those who spread tales rarely consider the truth - they consider only what seems most likely based on behaviour.” Lady Agatha’s keen eyes studied her niece. “And what behaviour would seem more likely to confirm suspicions - hiding away as if ashamed, or showing yourself with perfect composure and dignity?”

Emma closed her book slowly.

“You really think that I should attend dinner.”

“I think, my dear, that sometimes the best defence against malicious gossip is to demonstrate its absurdity through one’s actions.” Her aunt’s voice gentled. “You have done nothing wrong. Why should you hide?”

“Because I cannot bear to see him.” The words escaped before Emma could stop them. “To sit there, maintaining proper behaviour, while knowing how quickly he was ready to dismiss everything growing between us. How readily he believed the worst of my character, when I thought...”

She broke off, unable to voice how much she had started to hope, to trust.

“When you thought he might be beginning to care for you as much as you were coming to care for him?” Lady Agatha’s voice held gentle understanding.

“Yes…”

The word was a mere whisper.

“Ah, but there you have the advantage.” Lady Agatha’s smile held a hint of steel. “For you need not maintain anything beyond perfect dignity. Let others observe his discomfort. Let them see which of you better bears scrutiny.”

Emma’s chin lifted slightly.

“You think that I should face them all? Even Lady Anne’s satisfaction?”

“I think, my dear, that Lady Anne’s satisfaction might prove somewhat premature.” Her aunt rose and moved to the dresser. “Now then, I believe that the blue silk will suit you best for dinner. With your grandmother’s pearls, I think. Nothing speaks of quiet dignity quite like family jewels worn with perfect composure.”

Something in Lady Agatha’s tone caught Emma’s attention.

“Aunt... do you know something that I don’t?”

“I know many things, my dear. Chief among them being that truth has a way of emerging at the most interesting moments.” She turned back with the box containing the pearls in her hand. “Shall we ring for Susan? Your hair will need particular attention if we’re to achieve exactly the right effect.”

Emma found herself rising, drawn in despite her reservations.

“And what effect would that be?”

“Why, that of a young lady of perfect breeding, demonstrating that some people’s judgment says far more about their own character than about hers.” Lady Agatha’s smile grew decidedly satisfied. “The dinner table can be quite the stage for such demonstrations, don’t you think?”

*****

Susan’s hands moved with careful precision as she arranged Emma’s hair, each pearl-headed pin placed with deliberate attention. Emma watched in the mirror, noting how her maid kept glancing at the blue silk gown as if ensuring some particular effect.

“The pearls next, Miss?” Susan lifted the case with unusual ceremony. “Lady Agatha was most particular about them.”

“Was she indeed?” Emma fingered the smooth stones. “And did my aunt give you any other particular instructions about my appearance this evening?”

Susan’s hands stilled for just a moment - long enough to confirm Emma’s growing suspicion that more was happening than mere dinner preparation. “Only that you should look your very best, Miss. Though...” She hesitated.

“Though?”

“She did say something about some people being surprised by how the evening turns out.” Susan’s expression in the mirror was carefully blank. “Now then, shall we add just a tiny touch of rouge? Not too much - just enough to suggest perfect composure.”

Emma’s fingers traced the pearls at her throat - her grandmother’s pearls, worn on every significant occasion of her life. Why had her aunt insisted on them tonight? What surprise could possibly make this evening anything but an exercise in maintaining dignity through mortification?

The blue silk settled around her with familiar elegance. Yesterday morning she had chosen it, hoping to please Lord Limnwood. Now... now she would wear it as armour, showing him exactly what he had thrown away with his quick condemnation.

“There, Miss.” Susan stepped back, surveying her work with satisfaction. “You look...”

“Perfect?”

Emma’s smile held a touch of irony.

“Strong,” Susan corrected softly. “You look strong.”

Unexpectedly touched, Emma met her maid’s eyes in the mirror.

“Thank you, Susan. For everything.”

“Shall I tell Lady Agatha that you’re ready?”

Emma took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders.

“Yes. Though... Susan?”

“Miss?”

“If my aunt has something particular planned for this evening, I don’t want to know. I believe that I’d rather face whatever comes with genuine reactions.”

Susan’s expression suggested that this was exactly the right decision.

“Very good, Miss. Though... perhaps you might want these?”

She held out a delicate lace handkerchief and a spare pearl-headed pin. Emma raised an eyebrow in question.

“Just in case, Miss. One never knows when one might need emergency repairs. To one’s composure or one’s hair.”

The oddly specific nature of these offerings only confirmed Emma’s suspicion that something was afoot. But she took them without comment, tucking them into her reticule.

Whatever her aunt and the others had planned, she would face it with dignity. And if their plans went awry... well, she was prepared for that too.