Chapter Twenty-Eight
Emily held her breath as a footman opened the door, his expression barely cracking when he saw Oliver. His gaze travelled to her, and she did her best to remain utterly impassive. The corner of his mouth twitched, though whether in disapproval or amusement, she couldn’t tell.
“Mr Beaumont,” he said.
“I’ve come to see Lord Eynsham, Warren,” Oliver said. “Can you take us to him?”
Once again, the footman glanced at her, then back. “And your companion, sir?”
“This is Miss Brunton,” Oliver said, taking her arm possessively. “And she comes with me.”
“Of course, sir.” The footman gestured inside. “Right this way.”
Emily steeled herself as she stepped inside the house—though it was more of a mansion.
Even her childhood memories couldn’t conjure something quite this grand.
Marble hallways, statues mounted on plinths around the circumference of the large entrance hall.
A beautiful mural across one wall. Grand windows overlooking the distant sea.
Oliver was right: these people certainly had the means to help her, if only they had the will. If she could have contrived without appealing to them, cap in hand, she would have done, but she would sacrifice even her pride to protect her sister.
As they walked through a series of large rooms, Emily noticed the lack of portraits. She had expected a family with such an impressive lineage to display their heritage in the most ostentatious way possible, but not Lord and Lady Eynsham.
Interesting.
“Oliver?” A dark-haired lady in sprigged muslin, a sheaf of dried flowers in her hands, entered the library from the other door and frowned. “It is you. What an unexpected surprise. Thank you, Warren, I can take it from here.”
The footman inclined his head and returned the way they had come. The lady advanced across the room towards them. She was perhaps ten years older than Emily, and although she was remarkably pretty, there was a certain cynicism in her hazel eyes.
“So,” she said, giving Emily an assessing glance, “am I to presume you did, in fact, marry the first girl you saw?”
Oliver’s back stiffened, but red rose to his cheeks. “Not quite, Louisa.”
“So this lady is not your wife?”
“No,” Oliver said.
Louisa—Lady Eynsham—looked fully at Emily. “If he has made you promises, let me know and I will ensure he keeps them.”
Oliver groaned. “If I were to do such a thing, would I really bring her here?”
“I confess I’d expected you to bring a wife here.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “It’s good to see you, Oliver, so long as you have not compromised this poor girl.”
“Her name is Miss Brunton.” Oliver, Emily noted, made no mention of having not compromised her. A fair thing to do, given the opposite was true. “Emily, this is my sister-in-law, Lady Eynsham.”
Lady Eynsham smiled at her, and Emily knew, suddenly, that this woman would be an ally here. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Brunton. Please forgive my welcome.”
“I know it’s somewhat presumptuous of me to arrive in this way,” Emily began, but Oliver shook his head.
“I was the one to bring her here,” he said. “We’ve come to speak with Henry.”
“But the business Mr Beaumont wishes to speak to Lord Eynsham about is mine,” Emily said.
“My sister has . . .” She hesitated, but they had come asking for help; she could conceal nothing.
“My sister has run away with a known rake, and I need help finding her. Mr Beaumont has been so good as to champion my cause.”
At Mr Beaumont, Oliver blinked, glancing at her with sudden amusement.
Lady Eynsham, almost certainly, also caught the look, but Emily didn’t have the energy to worry about that.
She was an unmarried woman arriving unchaperoned with an unmarried man.
There were certain conclusions that could be drawn from that—and really, were they wrong?
“In that case, may I suggest you take this time to freshen up?” Lady Eynsham said. “You have been travelling, and did you walk here?” She glanced at the mud along the hem of Emily’s skirt.
Emily flushed, hating that wealth—or lack thereof—could make her feel like this. “I have no further clothes to change into, my lady.”
“Call me Louisa,” Lady Eynsham said cheerfully.
“We don’t stand on ceremony here, and if you’re a friend of Oliver’s, you’re a friend of ours.
As for clothes—I am certain I will have something that suits your complexion far better than mine.
Are you hungry? I’ll send for a tray to be sent upstairs. ”
“Louisa,” Oliver said. “Our request is of some urgency.”
“Not so urgent that you can’t make yourselves presentable,” Louisa said. “And eat something. You look half dead, the both of you.” She gave Oliver a stern glance, and to Emily’s surprised, he ducked his head.
“If you insist.”
“I will not allow you to neglect Miss Brunton’s needs. Now, my dear, please do come with me. Allow me to rectify the incivility of my welcome.”
Emily was too tired—and yes, hungry—to argue. “Thank you, my lady.”
“I recommend you do the same,” Lady Eynsham said pointedly. “You look just as dusty and disreputable, Oliver.”
“Yes, yes,” he said impatiently. “I’ll meet you down here shortly?”
Lady Eynsham clucked her tongue in obvious amusement. “You may be sure I will deliver her back to you safe and sound.”
Emily spared Oliver one last glance as she was ushered from the room.
Everything happened so quickly after that. Louisa escorted Emily through the great house to a guest room, and once they arrived, she rang for some dresses and food to be sent up.
“I have excellent taste, generally speaking,” she said, sinking gracefully into the chaise longue by the fireplace, “but sometimes I fall in love with a gown that doesn’t suit me and I buy it because I have the means to do so.
Inevitably, the gowns never suit me, and I rarely wear them.
Your complexion, I think, would suit them better. ”
“You are very kind,” Emily said stiffly.
“Don’t get on your high horse,” Louisa said, smiling slightly. “There’s no shame in receiving help once in a while when it’s necessary. Tell me something, Miss Brunton. Does he love you?”
Emily blinked. She felt a little faint—from the walk and the lack of food, probably. Her thoughts buzzed about her head like bluebottles, throwing themselves against the walls of her mind.
“Oliver,” Louisa said when Emily didn’t speak.
“I presume he does, or he wouldn’t have brought you here all this way.
” She rose from where she’d been reclined, picking a white towel from where it lay beside a pretty copper bowl of water.
“Here,” she said, holding it out to Emily.
“You are under no obligation to wear one of my dresses, but you should wash your face.”
Emily accepted the towel reluctantly. “It must have been a shock seeing me after he left in such a way. Stealing a carriage, too. He’s very remorseful about that.”
“He can convince me of his remorse—or otherwise.” At the stern note in the other woman’s voice, Emily glanced up, but Louisa smiled, softening the sentiment. “If he came back of his own volition, then I believe he is remorseful. And for you to defend him shows there is hope for him yet.”
“You’re not angry that I’m here?”
“Well, has he abducted you?”
Emily could not help her snort at the thought. “No.”
“Are you here against your will? Do you feel as though he has taken advantage of your situation, whatever it may be, for his own purposes?”
“If anything,” she said, holding the towel tightly in both hands, “it is I who have taken advantage of him.”
Louisa’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Ah, now that story seems worthy of telling.”
In as few words as possible, Emily outlined the situation, explaining Oliver’s intention to marry Isabella, how he encountered her instead, and how when they’d returned home, it was to find Isabella gone with Marlbury, a known rake.
As she spoke, she washed her face, surprised to find that such a simple act made her feel so much more human.
A knock at the door interrupted her as she reached the end of her tale, and Louisa waved the maid to the bed, where she lay out a whole host of dresses that Emily would not consider wearing.
Pale green ones, soft pinks that Emily would not for a thousand years have thought to wear with her red hair, and one a soft dove grey.
All simple morning dresses, yet all exquisitely made.
“Let us set aside the topic of your sister for a moment,” Louisa said.
“And, if you please, you may decide which dress you would like to wear for the remainder of the day. I think you would suit them all, and heaven knows I would not suit them. They will languish sadly at the back of my wardrobe until someone takes them off my hands.”
While Emily knew this was an exaggeration, she appreciated the other woman’s kindness. Just like Mrs Chambers, she had accepted Emily’s situation and need for assistance without batting an eye. The least Emily could do was be grateful, even if she despised such things were necessary.
“May I try on the green?” she asked.
“Certainly.” Louisa waved to her maid, but Emily had already half shrugged out of her muddy dress without assistance. It had been too long since she’d had help dressing.
“I’ll wash this for you, ma’am,” the maid said, picking Emily’s dress from the floor and folding it neatly over one arm.
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“It’s no problem, ma’am.”
Louisa returned to the chaise longue as Emily dressed, the maid combing out her hair and pinning it back. At the feeling of it, Emily closed her eyes—she had not realised how much she’d missed this.
It was only when the maid retreated, taking Emily’s dirty dress and the discarded ones with her, that Louisa spoke again.