Chapter 17 #2
“Do you have a few minutes?” she asked. “Well, an hour, more likely, given my capabilities, but—do you?”
He blinked. “What?”
“Come with me.”
He couldn’t say no to that smile, so he followed her. She led him to a glade a shot away from the house—a currently deserted picnic area.
“I was wondering if I could borrow your necklace. The one belonging to your mother.”
It was good she clarified, because for a second, he thought she knew he’d taken the duke’s pendant.
“All right.” He fished it from under his shirt, handing it to her with slight hesitation.
Emmeline held it, closed her eyes, and scrunched her nose in the most adorable way.
He opened his mouth to inquire what was going on, but stopped. As it always was with Emmeline, he’d be in for a surprise, but he’d catch up eventually.
He was going to miss that.
“A-ha!” She opened her eyes. About three feet in front of them, one of her passages opened.
“Not back to the castle,” he weakly objected.
“It’s not the castle. I hope.” She leaned forward, inching her head toward the passage. “Looks good. Come.”
They passed through into another bright, summer day.
They were still in a glade, but this one led to a pond, water lilies blooming on its calm, deep green surface.
Little patches of grass grew around it, intercepted by a few round rocks.
Further ahead, a gravel road winded through a neatly cut lawn, ending at the raised entrance of a grand manor, standing tall and proud with its red brick and white ornamented facade.
Before Theo could wonder whose house this was—because it certainly wasn’t Lennemere—he caught movement by the pond.
Partially hidden behind a tree was an easel, and behind it, a young woman dressed in a gown of a few decades past—a light green corseted bodice with three-quarter tight sleeves ending in a waterfall of lace and a matching skirt gathered at the back.
Emmeline ducked behind a bush, pulling him with her. “It looks right, doesn’t it?”
Theo wanted to ask what looked right, but was interrupted by a shout from the direction of the mansion.
“Julia!” Another young woman with light brown hair and a similar-style dress ran toward the easel. “Mama said to come back and get ready. The Miltons will be arriving soon.”
“Thank goodness.” Julia put down her brush. “If I have to deal with this thing for another ten minutes, I’ll throw it in the pond.”
“Is that a frog?”
“It’s a leaf.”
“Oh.” The other woman laughed. “Well, don’t be late!” She bounced back toward the house.
Julia. Subconsciously, Theo leaned past the bush to see the woman better. That name, them being in the past, Emmeline using his pendant as some sort of guidance—the equation worked.
“Maman,” he whispered.
Emmeline gently touched his shoulder. “Go to her.”
“I—no. I can’t.”
“You don’t have to tell her who you are! Go.” She gave him an encouraging smile.
Theo straightened up and, as if in a dream, headed around the pond, aiming for the nearby road.
“Good day,” Julia greeted as she spotted him. “May I help you?”
He approached slowly, taking in her face, framed by soft strawberry blonde curls.
Her green-blue eyes glinted with a hint of mischief, and a promise of a restless soul hiding underneath.
Uncle had never met Theo’s mother in person, so he couldn’t tell him how she looked like; but Theo was sure he wouldn’t have been able to do her justice anyway.
“Sir?” she prompted again, and he realized he was gawking in a rather rude manner.
“Apologies.” His voice choked up even on the simple word. “I’m new to the area. Might’ve gotten lost.”
“Not to worry. This is the Bentley estate. The nearest village is Hamworth. The road over there will lead you to it.” She pointed with the paintbrush.
“If you’re feeling adventurous, though, I’d suggest you take a detour—the first path on the right as you follow the road.
You’ll still get to the village eventually, but you’ll cross a hill with an amazing view and a circle of standing stones.
” Her mouth quirked. “Don’t try to jump from one to the other. ”
“Personal experience?”
“My mouth is sealed.” She drew her hand over it.
He smiled back. “Thank you.” He beheld her face one last time, trying to remember every feature, every twitch, every laughing wrinkle.
“Before you go,” she called as he turned to walk away. “Do you think this is a frog or a leaf?”
He looked at the painting. Maman had the right to be upset about it. “A leaf. Certainly.”
“Thank you very much, kind sir.” She nodded her head. “I wish you a pleasant walk.”
“I wish you …” I wish you were still here. I wish I’d known you. “A pleasant day.” He nodded back in farewell and walked down the road, waiting until she packed up her supplies and left before he rejoined Emmeline.
She didn’t say anything, only held his shoulders. He was grateful for the silence while he gathered his thoughts.
“Thank you,” he finally managed.
“You don’t need to thank me. I’m happy I could do it.”
He cast another glance toward the house.
Maman had already disappeared inside, but knowing she was there …
every emotion he could place a name to swirled and gathered into a ball in his chest. He never thought he’d see his mother—and yet, he did, and he was ecstatic, but also crushed from knowing she wouldn’t be there when he got back.
He was nervous, scared from knowing what awaited her—but also calm, soothed from knowing she’d had a good life beforehand.
Emmeline pulled him into an embrace, and after a moment of surprise, he hugged her back, resting his chin on the top of her head.
“I’m sorry I can’t get you to your father,” she said. “But I’m glad you got to see her, at least. Before you leave.”
He sighed and sunk his fingers into her hair. He’d never forget Maman. And he’d never forget Emmeline, either. “Thank you.”
***
Emmeline sat in front of her vanity table, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. After being fussed over since the early hours of the morning—by the duchess, Louisa, and a handful of ladies’ maids—she’d finally been given a moment to breathe before she left for the church.
She’d had a whole of five minutes to herself today, and yet, she’d never felt lonelier.
She glanced at the empty stool next to her, upholstered in a spotless cream brocade.
Her mother should be sitting there; she’d take her hands, and they’d talk about those secret things mothers and daughters talk about before a wedding.
Then Mother would fix the floral wreath in her hair, even though it needed no fixing, and kiss her on the cheek and tell her everything would be wonderful.
Father would be waiting in front of the church and take her down the aisle. He’d pat her hand and kiss her forehead and tell her he was so proud of her, and he loved her so much, and she’d tell him the same.
Her eyes burned, and she watched a tear slide down her reflection’s cheek, tickling her neck.
They should be here. Brendon and Tristan should throw petals in the church and run around guests and be general nuisances; her parents should stand beside her, so they could bask in her happiness, and she in theirs.
Perhaps all of this felt so hollow, so devoid of happiness, because they weren’t here.
Or perhaps, the reason she was missing them was that hollowness.
Yesterday, Theo had met his mother for the first and only time, and Emmeline was so happy she could help him, but also so envious.
What she’d thought a momentary reaction turned into a thorny, nauseating ball of regret and confusion in her belly, chasing her to today. Her wedding day.
She closed her eyes. I don’t know what I’m doing. Papa, what would you tell me?
The door behind her opened, and a familiar—if unexpected—form appeared at the edge of the mirror. Emmeline turned. “Theo!”
He dawdled in the doorway. “I’m sorry, am I disturbing?”
“Not at all.” She walked to him. “I thought you’d left already.”
“I missed today’s coach.” He turned his head to the side. “You’re crying.”
She wiped her eyes. “It’s just—you know. Big day.”
“Yes. It is.” He lowered his eyes. “I wanted to wish you all the best.”
A lump formed in her throat. Something was wrong with all of this, and it wasn’t just the absence of her parents.
“Goodbye, Emmeline.” Theo turned to leave, but she pulled him back.
“Why did you kiss me? When we jumped off the balcony?”
Pain crossed his eyes before he schooled his face into a more neutral expression. “It was the last resort,” he said in a soft voice. “An assurance you’d open the passage. You know that.”
“I know nothing,” she said, her voice breaking. She was so lost, so confused, like the fluff of a dandelion, helplessly drifting on the wind, waiting to fall wherever the forces dictated. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Emmeline …”
She grabbed his hand as a single clear thought shone through her confusion.
She didn’t know her way in this world, but wherever he was, she’d felt safe.
From the first day on the beach, he’d been her anchor—regardless of what came before, in another world.
He was the light when she was lost, and the wisp of shadow in her perfect fantasy, her dream wedding.
Because it would never be the dream. Not without Theo in it.
“Don’t go,” she said. “It’s not too late yet.”
He shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
She examined his face, looking for any twitch or tell revealing his thoughts. Did he feel anything in that kiss? Anything else for her above friendship?
And if he did, what would she do?
She pressed a hand to his cheek and looked into his eyes. “Tell me.” Her voice turned into a half-whisper. “Say something.” Say you don’t want me to marry Daniel. Say that we could be together forever—through adventure and peace, and storms and sunshine.