Epilogue #2
For reasons she could not explain, her intuition told her to trust Lord Parker, that he meant no harm.
She considered herself a good judge of character.
She hadn’t ever cared for Papa’s business partner, and after her sire died, the man had not hesitated to steal from her mother.
And then there was Mr. Youngwin. The moment she’d met him, she had not liked anything about him, but Mother had assured her that all would be alright.
It was the only offer of a job she’d had that also included accommodation for Emme, and their funds had almost run out.
While her mother had lived, Youngwin kept his hands to himself, although not his roaming eye, which was always unsettling.
Emma shook the horrific thoughts away. She would not think about that hard-hearted blackguard.
She needed to concentrate on the present.
“Thank you, Lord Parker. It is kind of you to offer.”
“Will we ride in the pretty carriage?” Betty’s excitement echoed through the countryside.
“Yes,” Emme said as she guided the girls, following Lord Parker.
Before too long, they were all ensconced in the pretty carriage, as Betty had so enthusiastically called it, and trundling along the muddy road.
The older two girls were sitting on the same side of the carriage as Lord Parker, and had fallen asleep within minutes of getting settled.
Emme wasn’t surprised. The journey had been most taxing on all of them.
A quiet stillness filled the conveyance. She did not know what to say. Should she talk about the weather or the state of the roads? But those topics would only fill the time for a couple of minutes. What did one say to a lord?
Lord Parker looked over to where she was sitting, nestled between two sleeping girls with another on her lap. “Where does your aunt live?” he questioned softly so as not to wake the children.
Emme brushed soft curls from Melisent’s face as she replied, “She is a housekeeper at the Home for Desolate Ladies.”
“I am familiar with the Home.”
“You are?” Her surprise echoed around the coach.
“Yes, Lord Kenwreck is a good friend of mine. It is quite admirable what his wife has done at the Home. Although, with Lady Kenwreck enceinte, the Duchess of Tavistock is now running the establishment.” He spoke of these elite persons as if they were just average people and not from the upper echelons.
Emme swallowed hard. Such illustrious titles. She’d had no idea her aunt was working for such high society. Would she and the girls even be welcome at such a place? The girls weren’t ill behaved—she was most strict about manners—but they were young children just the same.
Lord Parker must have suspected the direction of her thoughts. “You needn’t worry. Both ladies will ensure you and your girls are taken care of.”
Emme worried her bottom lip before responding. “I’m just taking care of them for the time being. Their father, Mr. Youngwin, recently passed away and…” Her words trailed off. How much should she reveal? They were of no consequence in the wider world. Did their plight even matter?
“And their mother?” Although Lord Parker was asking personal questions, she did not feel he was invading their privacy, quite the contrary in fact. His eyes reflected empathy, his words sincerity.
She paused for a moment, then chose her own words carefully. “She died in childbirth with the youngest.”
Lord Parker looked to the two little girls sleeping on either side of her. The spot between his brows crinkled for a moment, before relaxing. “They’re twins?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes.” There lay a truth the world was yet to know.
He shook his head. “So young to have lost both parents.”
The next few hours passed in easy, pleasant conversation while the children continued to rest. Emme learned that Lord Parker had several estates in the countryside, one of which he was traveling from to see his mother in London for Christmastide when he’d happened across them.
She was thankful for his graciousness, which continued even after they arrived in a flurry at the next coaching inn.
Lord Parker not only secured a room for her and the girls, but arranged for food to be brought up to them.
And just in time, too. The weather had turned most dreadful, and it promised to be a wild night.
She thanked him for his assistance, then they parted ways.
After a couple of hours, the children finally fell asleep together in the large bed.
It had been a long day and Emme was too exhausted to change, so instead, she settled into the chair beside the fireplace.
The gentle rumble of thunder rolled in the distance.
She prayed the storm stayed far away. She watched as shadows danced across the walls, trying not to remember the past, trying not to remember the night her friend had died, trying not to remember any of it.
But the distressing details had a way of creeping into her mind, consuming her thoughts.
“Promise me you will protect them.” Mirabel reached for Emme’s hand.
It was weak and frail and cold to the touch.
Emme could feel the life slowly, painfully draining from her friend’s body.
“Promise the chi…children will stay to…together,” Mirabel stuttered her words on tears of sorrow.
She took in a huge gulp of air and cried, “Promise me,” before collapsing back on the pillows.
On that distant stormy night, Emme had made two promises.
One to Mirabel, and one to herself—that she would do everything she could to never be parted from the girls.
“Promise me you will protect them. All of them.” Mirabel’s words continued to echo over and over in her head, drowning out the sounds of the storm that was now raging overhead.
Promise me!
“Emme!” Betty cried, breaking the spell.
A loud clap of thunder shook the room, startling the child even further and waking her sisters. Soon, all five were crying, scared and frightened.
Emme climbed into the bed, trying to ease their fears and calm their cries. “Shh, it’s alright. It’s just—” Another boom sounded, startling her. She detested nights like this.
“Emme!” their frightened little voices shrieked.
She feared the girls would wake the entire inn with their cries. Noelle had climbed onto her lap and wrapped her arms about her, holding on for dear life. Emme offered more soothing words, which had no effect. She then started singing softly, hoping to quiet them.
She did not know how many minutes had passed, or how many verses she’d repeated, when a knock sounded on the door. Oh dear, were they in trouble? Had the girls awoken the other guests?
She stood and adjusted the frightened little girl in her arms, then went to the door. Anxiety filled her words. “Who is it?”
“It’s Lord Parker…. Luke. I heard the girls.”
Had the innkeeper had words with him about the noise? They wouldn’t be tossed out into the stormy night, would they?
Fear tightened in her chest as she responded through the door, “I apologize. I’m trying to settle them, but the storm has frightened—”
“You’re not in trouble. I’m here to help.”