Chapter 10
Simeon was finding Emma to be a vastly entertaining partner.
Her eyes would light up with excitement every time they turned the street corner.
She found the storefronts fascinating, the street urchins entertaining, and she even stopped to buy wafers from a street vendor.
How was it possible that she found such mundane things amusing?
Whereas he found the storefronts to be tedious, the street urchins to be horridly filthy, and the street vendors to be pesky.
They had started their march with their chapter of the Anti-Corn Law rebels from The Tubby Wench, and they were about to reach Templeton Square. Along the route, hundreds of people joined their protest, eager to show their support.
With her arm tucked safely into the crook of his arm, Emma was chatting with Miss Janet as they walked side by side.
He didn’t even attempt to follow the conversation, because he was fairly confident that they were speaking about womanly topics.
Whatever those may be. Besides, Simeon was too busy scanning Templeton Square and the growing crowd.
The square was filled to capacity, and everyone was facing a large, wooden stage that had been constructed in the middle. Men and women stood side by side, and some were even carrying signs about repealing the Corn Laws.
As their chapter of the Anti-Corn Law rebels started making their way closer to the stage, Simeon stopped on the outskirts. “We stay here.”
Emma looked at him with curiosity. “Why are we so far away?”
“It’s safer this way. We’ll be less likely to be trampled,” he informed her. “Don’t fret. I have no doubt that we’ll be able to hear the orator from here.”
Rather than argue with him, Emma just nodded and turned her gaze back towards the stage.
Not quite ready to look away, Simeon’s eyes roamed the curls that framed her face perfectly to the radiant glow on her face.
He noticed how long her black lashes were, and her lips were parted in exuberance as she fixed her eyes on the square.
Tarnation! He shifted his gaze away from Emma.
What was he thinking, ogling her? She was his responsibility, nothing more.
A smile was still on her lips as she turned to face him. “When do you think Mr. Hatcher will arrive?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I suppose anytime.”
Her eyes landed on his lips, and he felt rooted to his spot. Could she feel his growing urge to kiss her, to feel her lips on his own?
“I can’t hear you!” she shouted as the crowd grew more boisterous.
Did he say something? Oh, yes. He leaned closer to her and raised his voice. “I suppose Hatcher could come at any time.”
A slight blush came to her cheeks. It was barely noticeable, but he caught it nonetheless.
“Is this peaceful demonstration everything that you thought it would be?” he teased, enjoying their nearness.
Her eyes left his and scanned over the people, and she nodded. “Yes. If Luke and Rachel hadn’t rescued me from my situation, I could have easily been in many of these people’s situations.”
“Is that so?”
She nodded. “I was fortunate enough to inherit my father’s shop in the village, our cottage, and property surrounding our home. However, working for an income is not beneath me.”
Simeon gave her a quizzical look. “You would have had to work?”
“Frankly, I don’t know,” she replied. “Lockhart insisted we wed so he could take care of me. He said that my income was too meager for me to support myself.”
He pressed his lips together to prevent a vulgar word from slipping out in the presence of Emma. He had no doubt that Lockhart was trying to force her to marry him. But why? Was it just because she was beautiful, or did she have something that he wanted?
“And what of now?” he asked.
“Pardon?”
Simeon leaned closer to her ear. “Have you not asked Downshire to explain your inheritance to you?”
She shook her head. “I have not. His solicitors are handling my financial matters, and I trust Luke completely.”
“As well as you should, but you should have some concept of your inheritance.”
Tilting her head towards him, their eyes locked. “From the moment Luke and Rachel brought me back to their home, I’ve never wanted for anything. Love, money, attention…” Her voice drifted off. “It’s been like a dream for someone like me.”
“Someone like you?”
Emma gave him a tentative smile. “I’m a nobody, a country bumpkin. Yet, because of my brother’s sacrifice, I’ve been given everything.” She shifted her gaze away from him. “I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”
With compassion swelling in his breast, he reached out and placed his finger under her chin, turning her to face him. “I want you to listen to me very carefully, Emma,” he started. “You are not a nobody. You are a beautiful young woman,” he paused, “and are admirably unique.”
A sad smile came to her lips. “You may not have noticed, but everyone in the Beckett family is extraordinary, and I don’t fit in with them.”
“That’s rubbish,” he declared, pleased when a soft laugh escaped Emma’s mouth. “You already have one article published in The Morning Post. Has anyone else in the Beckett family accomplished that feat?”
“No, but Rachel wrote a book, and Eliza is…”
He released her chin but remained close. “Don’t compare yourself to anyone else. Go at your own pace and believe in yourself. Because I do,” he hesitated, “and I don’t normally believe in people anymore.”
Emma’s face softened. “Thank you, Simeon. That means a lot.”
He gave her a curt nod and straightened to his full height. Why did he feel the need to praise the girl? He already knew the answer. He spoke from his heart. Something that he used to do a lot more when he was younger… with Martha.
Simeon knew he had become jaded over these past few years, but more so when Martha married another. Could he even remember who he used to be?
A loud, collective cheer came from around the men and women assembled together in Templeton Square. Glancing towards the stage, he saw Mr. Hatcher stepping up to the podium. He put his hand up, and everyone went quiet.
“My brothers and sisters, I have been told that our numbers are nearly four thousand today. The members of Parliament will have to stand up and take notice of our growing movement!” Hatcher exclaimed.
“The Napoleonic wars are over! The blockade that Britain had put into place to stop goods from coming into the continent is gone! However, the greedy British farmer and landowner doesn’t want to drop the price of corn and other grains.
They only care about profit, and they don’t care about our starving children at home. ”
A roar of grumbling came from the assembly, and Hatcher put his hand up to quiet them. “The Corn Laws state that no foreign corn will be allowed into Britain until domestic corn reaches a price of eighty shillings per quarter. Eighty shillings! That is nigh impossible.”
Hatcher stepped away from the podium and started pacing across the stage. “Landowners are getting rich on the high bread price. Except for the rich, everyone is suffering from these high prices. Some are on the brink of starvation, and for what? So, the landowners can have more coins?”
Simeon noticed that a large group of about fifteen brawny men were starting to approach the assembly, with wooden batons in their hands, and they all seemed to be focused on Hatcher.
Hatcher didn’t seem to notice as he continued his speech.
“Workers are being fired because their employers can’t afford to pay them.
They must choose between feeding their own children or having additional workers, and now these men can’t find new jobs.
There are none! The Corn Laws have caused panic amongst the people. ”
Simeon watched as this group of men started knocking people out of their way with batons as they approached the stage. What were they thinking? He turned towards a man near him, who was holding a baton in his hand. “What is the meaning of this?”
The stone-faced man sneered at him. “Mind your own business.”
“Or what?” he challenged.
The man spat near his feet. “Or I will force you.”
Stepping closer to the man, Simeon towered over him, and declared, “On what authority are these men here disturbing a peaceful protest?”
“We have a warrant for Mr. Hatcher’s arrest,” the man remarked dismissively as he eyed his clothing, obviously viewing him as unimportant.
Simeon clenched his jaw. “Then wait until after the demonstration. This is a peaceful protest.”
“There’s no such thing,” the man said, tapping the baton in his hand. “Why should you care?”
He met the man’s gaze and held it. “I’m a Bow Street Runner.”
“It appears to me that you are sympathizing with these rebels,” the man stated.
“Don’t you?” he asked.
The man huffed. “I am Constable McKay, and I don’t report to your magistrate.”
A loud commotion came from near the podium as a fight was breaking out. The constables were hitting men and women with their batons, but this time, the people were fighting back. A bloody-armed Janet emerged from the crowd near them.
“Get out of here,” she urged. “These constables are beating us for no reason. We weren’t resisting!”
Simeon grabbed Emma’s arm and yanked her towards him. “She’s right. We need to leave now.”
“Not without Janet!” she declared, holding her hand out for Janet to grab.
Without waiting for another moment, he started heading towards an alley when another man stepped in front of them. “Where do you think you are going?” he asked gruffly.
“I demand that you let us pass,” Simeon declared.
His eyes perused the length of Emma’s body lewdly. “I don’t think so. It looks to me like you rebels could benefit from some time in prison.”
Simeon squared himself up to his full height. “I am a Bow Street Runner, and I am on assignment.”
“Well, I’m Constable Stone, and we have strict orders to bring each of these worthless rebels into prison,” he stated dismissively.