The Trouble With Emma (35 page)

“To London, yes, not Antarctica. It’s two and a half hours by car.”

“It’s a world away from Litchfield,” she said. “You’re always off on travel somewhere. I’ll miss you. T-terribly.”

He took her hands once again in his. “My darling girl, for all of your interfering, and matchmaking, and your stubborn wrong-headedness – I wouldn’t change you, not one thing. And I would never leave you. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Emma, her eyes awash once again with tears, blinked and sniffled. “What? Do you mean –?”

“I mean to say, Emma, that I love you.” His hands tightened on hers. “I love you, without boundary, or reason, or end. I never want to be without you.”

She couldn’t take her eyes from his. “I – I love you, too. God knows, I tried not to, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.”

“Stubborn girl.” He leaned forward and added softly, “Will you marry me, Emma? Will you – can you – leave your home and your father behind, and make a new life with me?”

In answer, she stood and threw her arms around him. “Yes, and yes,” she breathed, laughing and crying all at once. “Of course I will! I love you, Mark. I loved you from the minute you walked into the bakery and told me I smelled of the barnyard.”

“It wasn’t the most romantic of first meetings.”

“I told you it’d make a very good story for our children some day. I
did
tell you that.”

“Yes, you did.” He smiled down at her. “And if I’ve learned anything in my time with you, it’s that you’re
never
wrong.”

She smiled, and laughed, and he kissed her again, and his lips were warm and responsive and hungry all at once; and she knew, in that moment of perfect happiness, exactly what Lizzy meant when she’d explained her love for Darcy.

I feel safe. Like I’ve come home, and I never have to leave again.

Emma’s arms tightened around Mark, and she knew she’d finally, truly come home.

Chapter 63

Later, after Mark and Emma announced their engagement and fielded a flurry of hugs and congratulations, they excused themselves and escaped, alone, to the garden.

“I thought Lizzy might burst, she was so excited,” Emma confided as she took Mark’s hand. “I’ll warn you know – she’s already planning the venue for our rehearsal dinner.”

“Let her plan away.” He squeezed her hand. “We’ll surprise them all, and elope.”

“We’ll go to Vegas,” Emma agreed, “and be married by an Elvis impersonator.”

“Or seek out a swami in Rishikesh, perhaps. We can honeymoon in a yurt.”

“Or be married on a camel.”

“Or –” he leaned forward to kiss her again, lingeringly. “Or we can stay right here, and be married in Litchfield, with your father officiating.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “I’d like that best of all. Would you mind terribly? What about your father?” She frowned. “I haven’t even
met
him yet, Mark. What if he hates me?”

“He won’t. He’ll love you,” he assured her, nibbling the back of her ear, “just as much as I do.”

“I’d love to be married here – right here, in the garden,” Emma mused. “Although I do like the sound of a camel, and a yurt. But I don’t think daddy would forgive us if we were married by a swami.”

“I daresay he wouldn’t,” Mark agreed, and smiled wryly.

“…must be going, now, Mr Bennet. I do thank you for a delightful – and most unusual – afternoon.”

They looked up to see Sir Cavaliere stood on the terrace, saying goodbye to Emma’s father. As the two men continued to talk, Mark’s smile faded, and he frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Emma asked, and drew back. “You look puzzled.”

“It’s that voice. I know it.”

“Well, of course you do! It’s Sir Cavaliere. We should say goodbye to him before he leaves –”

“No. I mean that I know it from before. From –” he paused. “Somewhere else.”

“But how can that be?” Emma regarded him in bewilderment. “You only just met him today.”

Mark didn’t reply. He watched, frowning, as the elderly gentleman took out his tin of raspberry pastilles and shook one out into his hand.

“Of course,” he breathed, and turned back to Emma. “I’ve just remembered.”

“Remembered what?”

“That day I told you about,” he said, “when I was a boy. The day my mum and I stopped at a farm stand for eggs after we left Litchfield Manor.”

She nodded. “Yes, I remember. You said she went to see my father while he was still vicar. Afterwards, she spoke to a man at the farm stand, and he made her cry.”

“He patted me on the head, and gave me a sweet,” Mark added, his frown deepening. “A raspberry pastille from a little round tin.”

She gazed at him in surprise. “You don’t mean –?”

“It was Sir Cavaliere, Emma! It must’ve been him she spoke to that day. In fact, I’m sure of it.”

Suddenly she remembered Isabella’s cryptic comment the day she’d stopped in to ‘have a word’ with her.

‘I have it on good authority that your Mr Knightley is a dark horse.’

And the words Miss Faifax had flung at James just a short time earlier came back to her as well.

‘James learned that Sir C intended to give Malvern Hall over to his son. Tiny problem, though – the son’s illegitimate and hasn’t yet been found. But it’s only a matter of time, darling, isn’t it?’

“But…I don’t understand,” Emma said now, even as the pieces began to fall into place. “How did your mother know Sir C? What did he say to make her cry? And what part did my father play in all of it?”

Mark took her hand and drew her forward. “I’ve no idea,” he said, his words grim. “But we’re talking to your father right now, you and I, and getting some answers.”

***

Later that evening, after everyone left, Mr Bennet made tea and set his crutches aside to join Emma and Mark and Charlotte at the kitchen table. The mountains of glasses, empty trifle bowls, and crumb-laden platters were gone, washed up and tidied away by Martine before she went home.

“I’ll do the rest tomorrow,” she promised Emma as she retrieved her purse and slung it over her shoulder.

“But didn’t your mum drop you off?” Emma asked. “Do you need a ride? I’ll go and get my keys –”

“No need.” Martine blushed and glanced out at a dark green Volkswagen Golf waiting outside, its engine running and lights on. “Tom’s bringing me home. We…he’s asked me to marry him, and I’ve said yes.”

For a moment, Emma could only stare at her in surprise. Then, “I’m
so
very happy for you!” she breathed, and threw her arms round the girl. “Congratulations!” She drew back. “When did all of this happen? I thought –”

“You thought we were done,” the girl finished, and sighed. “So did I. But we talked today, a lot, and…oh, Miss Em, he still wants me. Said he knew he had to marry me because bein’ apart nearly killed him.”

“I’m glad that things worked out for the both of you.” Emma reached out and took her hands. “Truly. It was my fault, all of it. I told you Tom wasn’t good enough for you. How wrong I was…about everything.”

“It was my fault, too,” Martine admitted. “I got so caught up imagining I was married to Mr Churchill, I could almost see myself living in that posh house on the hill, going down the shops with my nose in the air.” Her smile was rueful. “I’m just glad Tom didn’t give up on me, or take me at my word when I told him we were through.”

Now, as she poured herself a second cup of tea, Emma leaned back in her chair and sighed. “What a disaster that party was! Between Nicky telling James off, and my fainting spell, and Martine accidentally spiking the Bloody Marys – it’s a wonder anyone stayed on. Or stayed sober.”

Charli raised her eyebrow. “
Au contraire
– it was the best party ever. Everyone’ll be talking about it for years to come.”

“It’s one open house no one will soon forget,” Mark agreed.

“Thank goodness Sir Cavaliere stuck to gin and tonic,” Emma said, and shuddered. “Even one of Martine’s Bloodies might’ve proved too much for his poor heart.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mr Bennet mused. “He seems quite a hale fellow. He’s much improved in health since the last time I saw him, at any rate.”

“I still can’t believe Sir C’s your father.” Emma reached out across the table and laid her hand atop Mark’s. “Whoever would’ve imagined such a thing? All this time he was looking for his heir, and it was you.”

Mark squeezed her hand. “He got mum pregnant, but couldn’t marry her – his family wouldn’t allow it – and he soon realised, although he couldn’t admit it to her, or anyone, that he preferred the company of men.”

Emma frowned. “So he and your mother –”

“They were a mistake, from the start,” Mark finished. “He thought he could make it work…but he couldn’t. He knew he’d never be happy and he’d never make my mother happy, either.”

“Sir Cavaliere came to see me,” Mr Bennet said. “In the confessional. He told me everything. Of course, in my capacity as his confessor, I couldn’t share what he told me, nor would I have. But since it’s out in the open…”

“What did you do, daddy?” Emma asked, curious.

“Well, things were a bit different then. Attitudes towards morality were much more rigid. In those days, homosexuality was not something one shared with the world. I knew Ralph Knightley from seminary. He was a good man. But he wasn’t cut out for the cloth, and he left soon after for Sandhurst instead. I’ve no doubt it was a wise decision. We kept in touch. I introduced him to Betty – Mark’s mother – and they worked the rest out for themselves.”

“So does this mean you’ll inherit Malvern Hall now?” Charlotte asked Mark. “Since you’re the heir?”

He sighed and nodded. “It does. But it’s a huge responsibility. Sir Cavaliere – I suppose I can call him my father, now – tells me it’s a ‘black hole’ of epic financial proportions…half a million pounds a year, more or less, just to maintain the house.”

“Good God,” Mr Bennet said faintly.

“You could feature Malvern Hall on
Mind Your Manors
,” Emma suggested. “I’m sure Simon and Jacquetta could come up with some ideas.”

“Actually, Sir Cavaliere already has a plan in place,” Mark said. “He intends to give ownership over to me, but he’ll remain in the house as a leaseholder for ten years. By doing so, we’ll avoid millions of pounds in inheritance tax.”

“Ten years?” Charli echoed. “But what happens after that – will you have to throw Sir C out?”

Mark shook his head slowly. “I don’t think it’ll come to that, no. You see – he was recently diagnosed with throat cancer. He doesn’t expect to live above another year, two at most.”

Silence greeted his words, and Emma reached out again to take his hand in hers.

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly.

He squeezed her hand. “On the plus side,” he said after a moment, and managed a smile around the table, “living in Malvern Hall, I’ll have a chance to spend time with my father – my
real
father – and get to know him a bit better. I’m looking forward to it. If, that is…” he turned to Emma with a questioning expression. “If you agree.”

She thrust back her chair and settled herself on his lap. “Of course I do. I can’t wait.” She kissed him. “I get you, two fathers-in-law, and eventually, a title and a stately home…
and
I’ll be right next door to daddy. What could be more perfect?”

As everyone began talking at once, Elton trotted to the door, lifted his leg, and proceeded to wee on the linoleum.

“Blast!” Mr Bennet grumbled, and glanced over at Emma in exasperation. “Do you think you might possibly have room in your new stately for one small dog?”

Emma laughed. “Do you know, daddy? I think we just might.”

CARINA™

ISBN: 978-1-474-04944-3

The Trouble with Emma

© 2016 Katie Oliver

by Carina, an imprint of HarperCollins
Publishers
1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.