A Christmas Wedding Wager (31 page)

'No one has gone into my room.' Emma gave a smile and started forward. She would go to the hall and see how the preparations were progressing. It would keep her mind from Jack and wondering why he had left.

Davy nodded, but did not move from where he stood, blocking her path.

'Are you going to let me pass?'

'Begging your pardon again, like. The gaffer did not mean for you to come out. Not now anyhow.'

'Where is Mr Stanton?'

'The gaffer? He has gone to help out. It's the Goose Feast today, like.'

Emma pressed her lips together. She could readily imagine it. Jack wanted to use the Goose Feast as an occasion to consolidate his power, to show to the employees of Harrison and Lowe that he now owned the company. She crossed her arms. He had forgotten one small detail.

'I believe you are mistaken, Davy.'

'You reckon?' The boy tilted his head to one side. 'Where exactly do you think I have gone wrong?'

'Did he actually say that I was to be held here? A prisoner?'

The boy's eyes widened, and his brow furrowed. Then he shook his head. Emma resisted laughing in triumph. She had no doubt that Jack wanted her to stay put, but she had other plans.

'You say that Jack--Mr Stanton--has gone to see about the preparations?'

Emma drew in a deep breath. She had guessed right. He was going to use the occasion to consolidate his power, but he had forgotten one thing--this company was her dowry, and she still retained some vestige of control over it. She was not about to become some milksop miss.

She wiped her hands against the skirt of her gown. 'Can you take me to him? We can ask him then.'

'That wouldn't be wise, ma'am.' Davy readjusted the angle of his crutch. 'Really, you are better off staying here, like, until Mr Jack comes back. If you want to go back in quiet, like, it will be the best for the both of us.'

Emma knelt down so her face was level with Davy's. 'Would you like to see the German Christmas tree? I understand there is going to be a gigantic one--one that reaches up to the ceiling. There are going to be candles, white candy canes and presents. Old Christmas is going to come and give each person at the feast a present. Won't that be splendid?" Davy slowly nodded his head. 'I never seen one 'fore. Decorated, you see. I have seen lots of pine trees before. It's a monster tree, like. Do you think they will have a present for me?'

'I am sure they will. Mr Stanton and I think you have been a very good lad...all year.' Emma resisted the temptation to pat Davy on the head. She would go and see what was happening.

She would not be stuck here in this lifeless room with nothing to do but sit and watch the clock, going quietly mad. 'Mr Stanton is there now, getting things ready.'

'That's right, ma'am. He wants to make sure every detail is correct. I don't know if we ought to. He's in a right fearful temper.'

Emma pressed her lips together. He was! What about her? No word of goodbye or anything.

He had to learn that he was not going to have everything his own way. There was no way she was going to sit around placing pins into cushions to make sweet mottos. She had had a taste of life and she intended to keep it.

'And once we have found Jack Stanton we shall ask him if I can come out of my room or not.'

'If you say so, ma'am.' Davy gave a shrug and adjusted the crutch under his left arm. 'But seeing how's you are going to anyway, what is the point, like?'

The hall bustled with activity. Everything appeared to be happening at once. Wreaths of holly and garlands of ivy hung from the bare walls, transforming the hall into a Christmas wonderland. The scent of pine and spices filled the air. Along one beam the geese and one large turkey hung, each with a number brightly displayed. The twelfth cakes and mince pies were piled underneath along with brown nuts, winter pears, and all sorts of apples, all hues and sizes, from the brown russet to the rose-cheeked pippin. Bunches of purple hothouse grapes vied with red pomegranates.

Christmas bounty waiting for the employees to arrive. Everything ready, everything going on without her.

A lump formed in her throat. She had worked hard to get this feast organised, had thought herself vital. She'd believed the deception. The reality was far harsher--she was not indispensable, not missed, not needed. Was this the way it was going to be in the future? She wanted to be needed, to make a difference.

'Will you look at that?' Davy gave a low whistle. 'You were right, ma'am, to say I should come. That tree is a monster--a real monster. Can you see what is hanging from it?'

'Yes, it is.' Emma regarded the tree. Pen-wipes, needle cases and smelling bottles vied with less practical items, such as humming tops and little china dolls. White candle tapers stood on the ends of branches, waiting to be lit. It would in time be transformed into a magical paradise for children. She had to admit Jack's idea of a large German Christmas tree with presents was inspired. She could easily imagine the tree being talked over and marvelled at again and again throughout the coming year.

Emma scanned the room and discovered her husband--up a ladder, putting the final touches to a holly wreath. He clambered back down and gave Mudge a slap on his back. The sound of laughter echoed in the hall. Emma's throat closed. She was not required. She had no place here.

'Are you all right, ma'am?'

'Yes, of course,' Emma said quickly. She gave Davy a small push against his shoulder. 'Why don't you go and see the tree? See if any present has your name on it?'

She watched Davy go over to the tree. Jack stopped him, asked him a question. Davy pointed back towards her. His eyes searched the hall and came to rest on her. Emma shifted as they grew dark. She had thought that maybe they would light up, but if anything the light died.

She squared her shoulders and started forward. Her stomach appeared to be in knots, and the distance from the back of the hall to where Jack stood seemed to grow with each step she took.

Then suddenly he had crossed the distance and his fingers closed about her arm. 'Emma, you should be at the hotel, resting.'

'I am here now.' She kept her chin held high and met his gaze directly. 'I did not know where you had gone.'

'I planned on returning in time to bring you here for the start of the feast.' A flash of a smile showed on his face. 'I wanted you well rested. You did not have much sleep last night.'

Emma's heart began to melt. Her body clearly remembered what it was like to be held against him, to have him murmur soft words in her ear. It would be very easy to forgive him. To forgive and forget. But that way led down a slippery slope. She had every right to be here.

'You did not leave a note.' She gave a small shrug and played with the ribbons of her bonnet.

'How was I expected to know?'

He raked his hand through his hair. 'Shall we speak of this somewhere more private?'

'If you wish.' Dimly Emma was aware that everyone in the hall was staring at them. Emma allowed him to lead her away from the others. She kept her head held high. She was in the right.

'Why shouldn't I be here?' she asked when they were alone in the corridor.

'There's no need for you to be here. Everything is in hand.'

'I have worked long and hard for this feast. I have as much right to be here as you. More, even. Now, let go of me.'

His hand fell away from her arm as if it had burnt him.

'Everything is under control. You should be resting, or whatever it is that ladies do on the morning after their marriage. I thought you would sleep longer.'

Emma cast her eyes heavenwards. His reaction was not the one she had expected. She was not so naive that she'd thought he would scoop her in his arms, but she had expected some sort of civility.

'I am doing what ladies do. I have come to supervise the decorating of the hall, to make sure everything is done properly. I have duties and responsibilities, regardless of our marriage. The feast must be right. The memory of my mother demands it.'

'It is all under control.'

'Are you asking me to leave?'

'Yes.' The single word fell from his lips and hung between them, as uncompromising in its tone as his face.

'I see.' She spoke around the huge lump in her throat. 'You have what you want. You have made sure the marriage cannot be annulled, and therefore I am to fade away.'

'You are putting words into my mouth!'

'It is what you think,' Emma countered.

'I am not going to have a silly argument with you, Emma.'

He turned to go. The gentle lover of last night had vanished as if he had never been. Here was only the hard businessman. Emma swallowed hard. All the doubts and fears of yesterday came crowding back in. 'Tell me this--why did you marry me? Was it to get your hands on my father's company?'

His eyes widened. 'Who has been talking to you?'

'I want to know. I deserve to know.' Emma crossed her arms and stared at him. Her life was about to become devoid of everything--with only a husband who did not love her and no place for her in the company. She had become meaningless, redundant. And he was about to dismiss it all as if it were nerves or an attack of the vapours. 'Was your price--the company?'

'You will have to ask your father.' His eyes burned with rage.

Emma took another step backwards, stumbled. His hand went out but she brushed it away.

She straightened her spine. 'I intend to.'

She turned on her heel and marched out of the corridor, forcing her eyes to stay focused ahead and not glance behind her. She had thought he would come running after her. She reached the door, stumbled through it. Outside a fine mist was beginning to fall, making the grey snow become pock-marked.

Hot tears went down her cheeks. She scrubbed them away with the back of her hand. Her marriage was over before it had ever began.

'Emma, why have you returned home?' Her father put down his copy of Punch and stood up.

Emma was struck by how much brighter his eye was. He was improving. He would get well.

She pressed her hands against her skirt, straightening the folds. She had to ask. Now, before her nerve failed.

'Papa, did you offer Harrison and Lowe as my dowry?'

Her father bit his lip and turned his face away. The pit in Emma's stomach grew bigger. She wanted to bury her hands and cry.

'Papa, tell me. Is that why he married me?'

'It is not something a man likes to speak of.' He held out a hand. 'You are married now, and all your wants will be taken care of. Jack Stanton assured me. Why all this talk about your dowry?'

'I want to know.' Emma clasped her hands under her chin, forced her tone to be measured. 'I believe I deserve to know. I am not a child to be kept in ignorance about such matters.'

Her father shifted from one foot to the other. 'Some things are better left unsaid. Your dear mama was not interested in such things at all.'

'How can you say such things? I want to know. I am interested in the company, and its future.

You cannot have sacrificed all the employees for my sake. They have worked for us for a long time.'

'What did Jack tell you?' Her father's gaze pierced her and his voice became stern. 'You have had a fight with him, haven't you? That is why you are spouting this nonsense about wrecking people's lives. I have done no such thing, and neither will Jack Stanton. You are attempting to find excuses, daughter.'

'Papa!'

'You love him very much.'

Emma put her hand to her face and started to pace the room. Was her face that transparent?

How had everyone guessed when she had only fully known yesterday?

'My feelings don't come into it,' she said with dignity. 'It is what society demanded. I simply want to know the price you paid for my folly.'

'Oh, but your feelings do come into it. They have to. I told that to your dear mama when she wanted to marry you off to some jumped-up title-holder with no chin. We have to do what Emma wants, and never mind the social consequences.'

'Papa, what are you saying?'

'Daughter, do you love Jack Stanton? Would you have married him if this mess had not come about?'

Emma straightened her shoulders and looked her father in his eye. She knew she could not lie.

'Yes, I would have married him. But I wanted to marry him because of who I am now, and not because of my dowry.'

'I think I may have done more harm than good.' Her father dropped his head to his chest. 'I acted out of the best of motives. But, daughter, your quarrel is with Jack Stanton. You need to go back. You cannot stay here, hiding from the world.'

'I don't want to hide from the world. I want to be there, experiencing life.'

'But you have been. You gave up so many things to look after your mother, and then to look after me.'

'I thought that was what you wanted.'

'True love comes but once in a lifetime. Your mama thought she was doing what was best.

She told me that if you and Jack Stanton were meant to be together, somehow you would be.'

'She did what she thought was right.' Emma gave a tiny shrug. 'And she did it out of love. I know that. But she should have given me the choice.'

Her father walked over to his desk. 'I took this letter from her. It explains everything. She would have wanted you to have it. Perhaps it will explain why I offered Jack the company.

Why I felt the need to atone.'

Emma looked at the bold writing and knew it was Jack's. The letter he had sent years ago.

Her father had it, had kept it. She shook her head. 'That letter is many years too late.'

'Are you sure, daughter?'

The pieces of paper were tantalisingly close. She scanned the first few lines. The words described another person--an angel lighting the darkness, a brilliant dancer, a paragon of virtue. Someone she never had been, could never hope to be. Was this who Jack thought he'd married? She could never be that person. Surely he had to understand that she had changed?

She quickly read through to the end. His undying devotion. This proved nothing. He had changed in the past seven years, just as she had.