Chapter 4 #2
Simeon was opening his mouth to once again decline the job when Emma spoke first. “I don’t need a guard.”
“Pardon?” Lord Downshire asked in a forceful tone.
Her naivety was evident when she explained, “Eliza gave me an overcoat pistol and,” she paused, pulling out a small dagger from the pocket of her gown, “this.”
“Eliza,” Lord Downshire mumbled under his breath.
Simeon stepped forward and held out his hand for the dagger. “Do you know how to use a dagger?”
Emma shook her head as she extended him the weapon with her gloved hand.
“Daggers can be a useful weapon or, if they are used improperly, can remove fingers,” he said, fingering the weapon in his hand.
“We start training on the dagger tomorrow,” she announced proudly.
“Do you now?” he asked, extending the dagger back to her.
Returning the dagger into the folds of her gown, Emma shared, “Josette asked me to be a guest teacher at The Beckett School for Girls and informed me that I would need multiple weapons on my person.”
“No, no, no…” Lord Downshire started muttering as he stormed towards the door. “Munro! I need to speak to Lady Downshire… now!”
Emma put her hand next to her mouth and leaned closer. “Whenever Luke is displeased with me, he calls for Rachel so she can talk me out of my foolish behavior.”
“Is Lord Downshire frequently displeased with you?”
She smiled. “All the time.” Emma glanced over her shoulder at Luke, who was still standing by the door, looking agitated as he waited for his wife’s arrival. “Do you know of any groups that are protesting the Corn Laws?”
“Pardon?” he asked, hoping he misheard her. After all, why would a lady of the ton care about the Corn Laws?
“I know there are groups that are actively protesting the Corn Laws,” she whispered. “I just need to get in contact with one of their members so I can interview them for an article I am working on.”
Simeon stifled a sigh. Miss Emma Pearson was a bluestocking, and he suspected, slightly mad.
He took a step back, creating more distance between them. “That’s impossible. Even if I knew someone in one of these groups, no one would speak to a lady about the price of grain. Besides, we both know that women cannot write articles for the morning newspapers.”
“That’s not true,” she asserted. “I have…”
He spoke over her, and his tone brooked no argument. “No, Miss Pearson. My answer is no.”
Annoyance flashed over her features, and he expected a sharp-witted rebuke. However, to his surprise, a tense smile grew on her lips.
“I understand, Mr. Martin,” she said, her words anything but cordial.
Simeon furrowed his brows. “You do?”
“I do.” She curtsied. “It was a pleasure to speak to you.”
Without saying another word, she turned and approached Lord Downshire. “With your permission, I would like to dress for Mrs. Gupper’s garden party.”
He nodded. “You may, but please join me in the study before you depart. I would like to revisit this conversation about working as a teacher at The Beckett School for Girls.”
Emma smiled at her guardian before she departed from the room.
Lord Downshire tilted his head up and looked up at the ceiling. “Emma is quite opinionated and free spirited, but I assure you that she does behave in public.”
“Does she?” Simeon found himself asking.
Bringing his gaze back down, Lord Downshire replied, “She was educated at a boarding school, but her education was lacking in many regards. She was not prepared for Society, so we hired tutors to fill in the gaps. Poor Emma grew up with less restrictions, and she thrived in Scotland. However, London poses its own set of problems, even before Mr. Lockhart started sabotaging her.”
“Your ward claims she writes articles for the newspaper,” he shared, picking up his snifter from the table and taking a sip.
Lord Downshire cleared his throat. “Please keep that to yourself, Lord Wentworth.”
“It’s true?”
“Yes,” he reluctantly admitted.
Simeon found his curiosity piqued by this peculiar young woman. She was an anomaly amongst the women of the ton. But more importantly, he felt she conceded too easily. It struck him as ingenuine, and that perplexed him.
Miss Emma Pearson was up to something, and it irked him that he didn’t know what it was. Perhaps guarding her for a day wouldn’t be the worst waste of his time.
He tossed back the remainder of his drink and placed it onto the table. “I will guard Miss Pearson,” he paused, “at least until another guard can be procured.”
“Thank you, Wentworth. I will owe you a favor,” Lord Downshire sighed in relief.
“Keep it,” he declared, walking towards the door. “I’ll be waiting outside to escort Miss Pearson to the garden party.”
Emma was sitting perfectly still at her dressing table chair while her lady’s maid used a hot curling tong to create small ringlets to frame her face.
Her thoughts were on the infuriating Bow Street Runner she had just met.
He had a strong jaw, piercing blue eyes, and thick, black eyebrows.
His short, brown hair was brushed forward, and he had long sideburns.
He may be handsome, but he was a dolt. She had been so excited to learn that Mr. Martin worked as a Bow Street Runner, but he had dashed her hopes of interviewing him.
All she wanted to know was his thoughts on the Corn Laws and…
Her lady’s maid’s voice broke her out of her thoughts. “You seem distracted, miss,” Peggy observed as she reached for another lock of hair.
Keeping her gaze focused on the mirror, Emma replied, “I am. The newspaper requested that I submit additional articles for their consideration, and I want to write an article about how the Corn Laws are affecting the people in the rookeries.”
“Like you did for the Highland Clearance?”
“Yes, but this time I would like to attend a meeting of a group that is actively opposing the Corn Laws and interview multiple people,” she confessed.
“That doesn’t seem safe,” Peggy mused, walking over and placing the hot tongs next to the hearth.
Emma shifted in her chair to face her lady’s maid. “People are on the brink of starvation because of the high bread prices, and they have no money to spare to buy anything else.”
“My cousin’s family is starving because he can’t find a job,” Peggy revealed, blinking back her tears. “I send him all the spare coins that I can, but it isn’t enough. He works side jobs whenever he has the chance, but there are no long-term prospects.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Rising from her seat, Emma went over to her reticule and removed the two one-pound notes. She extended them towards Peggy. “I hope this helps.”
Peggy put her hands in front of her. “I cannot accept that. It’s far too generous.”
“Please, I insist,” Emma replied, holding the money out. “No one should go without food, especially children.”
Tentatively, Peggy reached for the money. “Thank you, miss. This will mean the world to my cousin,” she said, slipping the notes into the pocket of her apron.
Turning towards the bed, her lady’s maid picked up a white gown with a fine, sheer, yellow silk overlay. A blue trim ran along the hemline and along the sleeves. She held it up for her inspection. “I thought this gown would look beautiful for the garden party.”
“Excellent choice, Peggy.”
After she was dressed, Emma sat back on the bed as she put on her white satin slippers with their blue decorative ribbons.
Clutching a blue-striped parasol in her hand, Peggy appeared anxious as she diverted her gaze to the floor.
“What is it?”
Peggy brought her gaze back up to meet Emma’s. “I do know someone who can help you. My brother, Jerome, belongs to the Anti-Corn Law rebels.”
“Can you arrange a meeting with him?” Emma asked eagerly.
“I’m afraid he won’t come to Caddington Manor, miss. It’s much too grand for his taste, nor does he have the funds to come to this part of town.”
“Then, where can I find him?”
Peggy shook her head. “It’s not safe for you to go into the rookeries. If you write down some questions, I can ask him on my next day off and remember his responses.”
Reaching for her white gloves, Emma pressed, “Where do you meet him?”
“At his job,” Peggy replied. “He works at a public house called The Tubby Wench. It’s on Bosky Street near the east side. It’s also where the Anti-Corn Law rebels meet each week.”
“That isn’t quite in the rookeries, is it?” Emma asked.
“Right. If you continue down Bosky Street, it turns into a dead end at St. Giles.” Peggy shuddered. “I have never ventured that far, mind you. I’ve only heard stories of how horrific the rookeries are.”
“Mrs. Gupper’s estate is not far from Bosky Street,” Emma remarked out loud. “I could go to The Tubby Wench public house…”
Peggy spoke over her. “That’s a horrible idea! You must get that thought out of your head.”
Before she could respond, a knock came at the door before it was pushed open. Rachel walked into the room, holding Matthew in her arms.
“Emma,” Lady Downshire proclaimed in a firm voice, “I’ve come to talk you out of being a teacher at The Beckett School for Girls. That is completely…” she closed the door, “wonderful news.”
Emma breathed a sigh of relief. “For a moment, I thought you were angry with me.”
“I’m not,” Rachel confessed, “but Luke is not entirely pleased.” She walked over to the bed and laid Matthew down. “Don’t worry. Luke will come around.”
Sitting down next to Matthew, Emma replied, “I’ve been having such an enjoyable time at Eliza’s house. She taught me how to climb down a wall, shoot a pistol, and she’s going to start tutoring me on daggers tomorrow.”
“I wish I could be there with you. But this little guy,” Rachel said, turning her attention towards Matthew, “keeps me up at night.”
Emma smiled. “You could employ a nursemaid for nighttime.”
“I could, but I won’t,” Rachel stated.
Peggy extended her the parasol. “Do you care for your parasol?”
“Not today, but thank you.”
For a long moment, Peggy watched her before asking, “I apologize for my bold speech, but you aren’t planning to leave Mrs. Gupper’s garden party for any reason, are you?”
Emma knew what she was not saying, so she answered, “We’ll discuss it more later this evening.”
“As you wish,” Peggy sighed, turning to exit the room.
Before the door latched close, Rachel turned to her with an expectant look. “May I ask what that was about?”
Emma smiled down at baby Matthew as she explained, “I would like to write an article about the Anti-Corn Law rebels, and Peggy’s brother belongs to the group. I was hoping she would arrange a time for us to meet.”
“You’re writing about the Corn Laws?”
“I am,” she answered. “Furthermore, I assume my article would have a better chance of being accepted if I have a meeting with a member of this group.”
Rachel nodded approvingly. “I agree, but you must be safe. Traveling to interview the displaced Highlanders was a vastly different experience than meeting with members of the lower class in London.”
“I will. Are you coming to Mrs. Gupper’s garden party?” she asked in a hopeful tone.
Rachel yawned. “I plan to rest while you are gone, but I have arranged for Mrs. Morton to accompany you.”
Leaning down, Emma kissed Matthew’s cheek and earned a smile from him. “Mrs. Morton is attentive and genuine, but she is no fun at these social gatherings. She sits in a corner and practices her needlework.”
“How awful for you,” Rachel teased. “But be kind to Mrs. Morton. She is a dear family friend.”
“I’m well aware of that,” Emma said, rising from the bed. “Hopefully, if all goes well, I won’t fall into a puddle or get inebriated at the garden party.”
Laughing, Rachel picked up Matthew. “You will shine like the woman we know you to be.”
Emma smoothed out her gown and walked towards the door. She picked up the reticule and ensured her overcoat pistol was inside. If the garden party was boring, as she anticipated, no one would notice if she disappeared over the back wall for an hour or so and took a short walk to The Tubby Wench.
After all, it was only a short jaunt to the public house. She’d be back before anyone knew she was gone.