Chapter 27 #2
“Anymore,” Emma supplied, finishing the sentence for her. If she heard another word about matchmaking, she would don the mobcap she had threatened at breakfast that morning.
Mrs. Buckley chuckled. “Very well. I will not try to push the two of you together anymore.”
Emma slipped her needle through the gown again. “It was an odd notion anyway, Mrs. Buckley. What would you have done if I had decided that I did like Mr. Lofton? Come to live with us at his house? I could not abandon you.”
“You are too good to think of me.” Mrs. Buckley looked into the fire, a look of concentration on her brow.
“It is something I have perhaps learned too late, my dear, but—no, I will not say that. My love was full, and the years I had with my husband were rich in affection. I was blessed to have him at my side.”
“He was a good man.”
Mrs. Buckley’s returning smile was affectionate. Firelight danced in her eyes. “A few things have recently become clear to me since losing my darling Edward. We cling to some important ideals, and other things do not matter quite as much as we think they do.”
Emma carefully wove her needle into a small piece of fabric so she would not lose it and trained her attention on her employer.
The energy in the room had shifted, as though Mrs. Buckley was imparting her wisdom and wanted every drop of it to be absorbed.
It was an odd reversal of roles in a sense, for Emma had always felt she was the caretaker in their relationship.
She valued Mrs. Buckley and sat quietly, waiting to hear what she wanted to share.
“For a long time I was angry that I had never been blessed with children of my own. Edward used to feel helpless about how to comfort me, and neither of us knew that comfort would arrive in the form of Owen. The first time he came to stay with us as a young boy, I had never been so happy. He has been a balm to my heart. When his mother died, I vowed I would make sure he always knew how deeply he is loved, and in turn, he has become the sweet son I was never blessed to carry in my womb.”
“You are fortunate to have each other.”
Her smile was affectionate. “I share this with you now because it has become clear to me in my old age—”
“Old! Really, Mrs. Buckley.”
“Fine. In my advanced years—”
“That is not much better.”
“Nevertheless, I shall press on. I have learned that the blessings we seek do not always arrive in the package we expect or even want. Sometimes, the blessing still comes, but it is wrapped in something entirely different from what we’ve spent our lives imagining or preparing for.
We like to think we know what is best—and I often think you do know what is best for me—but it can be easier to see those things for another than to see them for ourselves. ”
Emma blinked, doing her best to keep still.
Did Mrs. Buckley want her to marry Mr. Lofton?
It was an odd message to relay shortly after promising to let the matter drop regarding him, but what else could she possibly mean?
Who else could she be implying? She believed a family and marriage would make Emma happy, and in the simplest sense, she was correct.
But he was not the man Emma wanted to share those things with.
“I can see I’ve overwhelmed you.”
“Not at all,” Emma promised. She searched for a reply, unsure of how to explain that the dream was correct, but the man was all wrong. “I see your point, and I value your wisdom.”
“But you do not wish to heed my advice? Even if it would lead to a family of your own?”
Emma drew in a breath. “We only moved into this cottage a week ago. We have hardly had time to let the dust settle. Shall we give ourselves time—”
“But do you not…love him?” Mrs. Buckley asked, her voice drawing quiet, her chin tucking toward her chest as though she meant the question to remain a secret.
Emma’s gaze shot toward the door. She was so utterly confused by the direction the conversation had taken. Were they still speaking of Mr. Lofton? No, she did not love him.
“You need not answer me now. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. Only…only answer me this: are you not afraid that if you do nothing, he will marry someone else?”
Emma closed her eyes, thinking of Owen. “Yes. It is possible.”
Mrs. Buckley nodded vigorously. “Then we shall do what we can to secure him before he can foolishly choose another.”
“Mrs. Buckley—”
“I will not say another word.”
“It is not a good idea.” Panic rose within Emma. “I cannot…it is not a good idea.”
Mrs. Buckley watched her with consideration. “I will say no more tonight. But this matter is not over. All you need to do now is make sure you are the most beautiful creature at the ball.”
Emma let out a sharp laugh. “We’ve already failed, I’m afraid. Those years are well behind me.”
“Oh, pish. You do not know your charm. All this talk of caps, but you are still a child, young and vibrant and full of youth. Besides, there is only one man we need to impress, and he already thinks you’re the most beautiful woman in any room he walks into.”
Emma was certain Mrs. Buckley had lost her mind, but she picked up her needle and resumed ruching the bust of her gown, unable to dampen the joyful effect her words had.
She was certainly bound to end an old maid with this woman beside her, but the sentiment was sweet, and imagining herself dancing about the ballroom in Owen’s arms was certainly a nice way to pass the evening.