Chapter 8 #2
“Until then,” Downshire placed the file back onto the desk and turned his heated gaze towards Emma, “you are not allowed to leave Caddington Manor… for any reason.” He lifted his brow. “Do I make myself clear?”
Emma tipped her head. “As you wish.”
Simeon frowned. Now that Miss Pearson wouldn’t be attending the Anti-Corn Law rebels meeting, would she confide the location and time of the meeting to him?
Straightening from the desk, Downshire announced, “I have a meeting with my father about our investments. Perhaps he can provide some insights on what we can do to salvage Emma’s reputation.”
“If he doesn’t, then I am sure my mother will,” Eliza remarked, rising from her seat.
As everyone started to leave the study, Simeon waited until Emma walked out, then quickly followed behind. He tapped her on the shoulder and indicated she should follow him around the corner.
Once she turned the corner, Simeon asked, “Since you won’t be attending the meeting, will you tell me the location?”
“I am attending the meeting,” she answered, glancing over her shoulder.
He eyed her with frustration. “Downshire just issued an order for you to stay inside the estate. You would defy his order?”
Stepping closer to him, she lowered her voice. “I already borrowed a dress from my lady’s maid, and I plan to skip dinner by feigning exhaustion.”
“But Downshire…”
She waved her hand dismissively. “He won’t even know. We will attend the meeting and be home before anyone is the wiser.”
Simeon didn’t know if he should throttle Miss Pearson or admire her spunk. Either way, he would be helping her defy an order from her guardian. He was confident that Downshire would send him to Newgate if something happened to his pretty little charge.
“I could go and tell Downshire what you’re planning,” he threatened.
“You could,” she paused, smiling, “but you won’t.”
He stepped closer to her. “Why do you say that?”
A mischievous glint came to her eyes. “If you tattle on me, then you won’t know the location of the Anti-Corn Law rebels.”
“You doubt my ability to find it out on my own?” he questioned.
Emma shrugged smugly at him. “I’ll remain here all afternoon while you attempt to learn the location of the meeting.” She paused, before adding, “But if you don’t discover the location or time of the meeting, then meet me at the back of the gardens at eight tonight.”
He pushed his brows together. “You would go to the meeting without me?”
“I have no doubt that you will be meeting me in the garden tonight,” she replied, giving him a complacent smile. “Until tonight, Lord Wentworth.”
As she turned to leave, he grabbed her arm. “I do not like being called by my title.”
“Then what would you prefer me to call you?”
“Simeon,” he blurted out before he realized what he was about.
Her brow lifted slightly, but she responded, “Then you must call me Emma.”
A smile came to his lips. “I would like that very much, Emma.”
“As would I, Simeon.”
Simeon released her arm and watched as she hurried away. He took out his pocket watch and looked at the time. He only had four hours to discover what he had been trying to uncover for weeks.
He’d better get to work.
Dressed in a drab, borrowed gown, Emma hurried across the expansive garden of Caddington Manor. It had just started to grow dark as she stepped into the cover of the trees along the back wall.
She sighed in disappointment when she saw that Simeon wasn’t there. She’d been hoping that he wouldn’t have been able to discover the information on his own. Glancing at the rising moon, she decided that she would only wait for a few moments before heading to the meeting herself.
Tucked into the pocket of her gown was a pound note and some coins. That was the last of the pin money she’d been saving. Luke had been most generous with her allowance, but she would often give it away to people who needed it more than she.
The sound of crunching leaves caused her head to snap towards the direction of the noise. She slid her hand into the pocket of her gown and gripped her overcoat pistol. If the noise wasn’t caused by Simeon, then she was in a lot of trouble.
A shadow emerged from the trees, its footsteps crackling the fallen twigs.
Her breath caught as the shadow took another step closer, directly into a gap between the trees, revealing a man.
“Emma,” the man whispered as he came closer.
She breathed a relieved sigh when she heard Simeon’s voice. “You must have missed me,” she joked, removing her hand from her pocket.
“I did no such thing,” he declared in a haughty fashion. “I was unable to ascertain the location of the meeting.”
Emma shrugged one shoulder. “Or perhaps you missed my witty conversational skills?”
“You surely jest,” he grumbled.
She grinned. “And you, milord, are way too reserved.”
“I am not reserved,” he growled.
Walking over to the black iron fence, Emma quickly jumped over and watched for Simeon to follow suit. They hurried towards the pavement and the bustling street. Raising her hand, she tried to hail a hackney, but none would give her any heed.
Simeon came to stand next to her. “No respectable hackney will carry a single woman,” he informed her. “Allow me.” He lifted his hand, and a black hackney came to a stop in front of him.
“Where to, sir?” the fair-skinned driver said.
“To The Tubby Wench,” he replied.
“No, sir, I don’t get that close to the rookeries,” the driver declared. “I can drop you off at Busby Street.”
“That will do,” Simeon answered, turning to assist her into the hackney. Before he climbed in next to her, his eyes scanned the street until he gave a curt nod.
Once he sat next to her, Emma murmured, “Why is another Bow Street Runner following us?”
He looked at her in surprise. “How did you know that?”
“I’m basically a spy,” she joked. “I can scale walls, I’m good at defending myself, and I am quite intuitive.”
“What do you know about spies?” he asked cautiously.
She put her hand next to her mouth as she shared, “I am wise enough to know that Jonathon, Benedict, and Adrien are agents of the Crown.”
“Do you now?”
“I do.” She lowered her hand. “Anyway, do you think it is wise to include another Bow Street Runner?”
He nodded. “Pembrooke is one of the best. I sent him a missive, asking him to trail us to the meeting. I haven’t yet spoken to him about Peter Lockhart, but I intend to shortly.” He gave her a pointed look. “You can trust Pembrooke.”
“I suppose I’ll give Pembrooke a chance.”
Turning her head towards the street, Emma watched as the vendors closed their stands, and hungry children eyed the remaining food with longing.
“That’s awful,” she murmured to herself.
“What’s awful?”
Shifting on the bench towards him, she answered, “All the children that are starving and no one is helping them.”
“It’s the parents’ job to feed their children.”
Emma furrowed her brows. “And if the parents don’t have money to pay for the high price of bread?”
“I can’t answer that,” he replied with a slight wince.
Her eyes shifted back towards the street, and she watched women carrying baskets as they scurried along. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying. If Luke and Rachel hadn’t rescued her when they did, this could have been her life. Who knows where she would have ended up?
Simeon’s voice broke through her musings. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she replied. “Just anxious, I suppose.”
Thankfully, Simeon left it at that, since the hackney jerked to a stop.
They quickly walked the distance towards The Tubby Wench pub.
Once they stepped inside, Emma waded through the large group of patrons as she headed towards the stairs.
A lone door was at the top of the stairs, and she knocked loudly.
The door opened, and a short man with long hair stared back at her. “How can I help you?”
“I’m a friend of Jerome’s,” she revealed, raising her voice so she could be heard over the crowd downstairs.
He nodded, opened the door wide and waved them through.
Inside the small, crowded hall, a rectangular table sat in the middle, and a large group of people congregated on both sides. The table held multiple sheets of paper. Men and women approached and signed their names.
Stepping closer, Emma asked a petite, blonde-haired young woman who was standing near her, “What is everyone signing?”
“We’re signing a petition for Parliament to overturn the Corn Laws,” she explained. “The more signatures we have, the more likely we can affect change.”
“Indeed,” Emma responded.
The woman looked at her, glancing down at her brown gown. “You’re new here. My name’s Janet.”
“I’m Emma.” She tilted her head towards her guard. “That’s Simeon. He does speak, but he’s more of an observer.”
In response, Simeon grunted with his familiar air of annoyance, confirming her statement.
“Do you know how to read and write, Emma?” Janet asked, reaching for a quill from the table.
“I do,” she acknowledged as she accepted the quill.
“Take a moment to read our petition and sign under the other signatures,” Janet explained.
Stepping up to the table, Emma and Simeon both read the petition.
It was straight-forward. The petition was urging Parliament to redact the Corn Laws, citing how people were starving due to the rising food prices and chronic unemployment.
Furthermore, it pressed the point of writers, such as William Cobbett, who were denouncing the inequality of the electoral system, as evidenced by rotten boroughs.
“What are rotten boroughs?” she whispered to Simeon.
Simeon leaned close to her, and she smelt his scent of musk and a hint of orange.
He spoke next to her ear. “A rotten borough is an area that has found a way to unjustly gain unrepresentative influence in the House of Commons. It has a very small electorate, but it has the same influence of a large town.”