The Trouble With Emma (4 page)

Emma eyed her in surprise. “Oh? But surely your mother doesn’t have time to help with the cleaning chores here at Litchfield. And I do hope she didn’t spend an inordinate amount of money on curtain fabric.”

Heaven knew what kind of godawful kitchen creation Mrs Davies would come up with – garish colours and a surplus of ruffles came to mind – but regardless of how dreadful it looked, Emma would be obliged to ooh and ah and, worse still, hang them at the window over the sink.

“She got the fabric at the end-of-season clearance sale last summer,” Martine said. Her hands paused on the box of cake flour. “She wanted to do somethin’ nice for you and your dad, Miss Em,” she added shyly, “seeing as you’ve both been so good to us, always givin’ me clothes and pies and whatnot to take home.”

“That’s very kind of her, I’m sure.” Emma managed a stiff smile. “Please thank her for me.” She picked up her purse and turned to go.

And although her expression was unremarkable as she opened the kitchen door and left, inwardly she seethed with a mixture of affront and mortification.

Things have surely reached the lowest of points
, Emma thought with dismay as she slid behind the wheel of Mr Bennet’s Mini,
when one is obliged to accept charity from one’s very own housemaid
.

She pressed her lips together and started the engine, and with a sharp turn of the wheel, headed to Litchfield.

Chapter 6

Weston’s Bakery was busy when Emma arrived. There was a queue of customers at the till and another waiting to be served. Boz and his Saturday assistant, Viv, were run off their feet just to keep up.

Nonetheless, “Good mornin’, Emma!” Boz called out as she came inside the shop. “Just can’t stay away, can you?”

“It seems I cannot.” She answered his grin with a smile and felt her earlier irritation smooth itself out and recede, like a tide. How could anyone remain grumpy in the face of such unrelenting good will?

He handed over two boxes of doughnuts to his customer. “There you are, Mrs Winkleman. I hope you and Mr W enjoy every delicious morsel. Now, if you’ll step over to the till, Viv’ll ring you up.” Boz turned back to Emma. “Changed your mind about the job, then?”

With a murmured apology to the nearest customer in the queue, Emma made her way to the glass display case in front of Boz and leaned forward. “Yes, I have.” She kept her voice low. “I’d like the job. But I prefer to keep it between the two of us for the moment, if you don’t mind.”

He took his tongs and lifted out two sticky buns for the next customer. “Whatever you want, Miss Emma.” He winked. “Our little secret. Although it won’t be a secret come Tuesday, when you turn up at seven to start your first day.”

Her eyes widened. “Seven o’clock?” she murmured, dismayed. “But…that’s awfully early, isn’t it?”

“Need to train you, don’t I?” He placed the sticky buns in a box, scrawled ‘SB-2’ in black marker on the lid, and handed it over to his customer. “We open at nine, so that’ll give us plenty of time to go over everything. I’ll show you how to work the till and give you a little tour.”

“All right.” She turned to go. “Oh…and before I forget, daddy asked me to thank you for the cream horns. He all but fell on the box when I brought them home.”

“Glad he liked ’em. They sell out fast; I don’t usually have any on hand very long. So – I’ll see you at seven on Tuesday morning, then?”

Emma nodded. “I’ll be here.” She hesitated. “Thank you, Boz.”

“Oh, bosh.” He waved her off. “It’s you who’s doing me the favour. But I warn you – you’ll be busy. Behind this handsome exterior lurks a dedicated man of business. A titan of tarts, a prince of patisserie –”

“And the chief of chinwags,” Viv cut in. “Kindly stop flappin’ your gob and fetch us more fairy cakes, Boz,” Viv said. “We’re nearly out. And don’t listen to a word he says, love,” she added as she glanced over at Emma. “It’s ninety percent bollocks.”

As Emma made her way to the door, it flew open with a jangle of the bell, and she found herself face to face with Mrs Cusack.

“Good morning, Miss Bennet,” the woman said, startled. She eyed the girl’s empty hands. “What brings you here?”

Emma thought quickly. “I came to thank Boz for the cream horns he sent my father.”

Mrs Cusack nodded. “They do go down a treat, don’t they?” She turned to a slender young woman standing behind her. “Miss Bennet, I’d like to introduce my niece, Miss Isabella Fairfax. She’s visiting for the summer.” She beamed. “Isabella, this is Emma Bennet, our former vicar’s eldest daughter. He has three,” she added. “Elizabeth just got married and Emma and Charlotte are…still at home.”

Isabella extended a hand. “How nice to meet you, Miss Bennet.”

“Emma, please. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. I hope you enjoy your stay at Litchfield.”

Curious, Emma studied Miss Fairfax. She was of average height and quite attractive, with clear grey eyes and a trim figure; but her smile was warm and pleasant.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Isabella said. “I look forward to getting to know you and your sisters.”

“Well, Lizzy’s on her honeymoon at present,” Emma explained, “and Charlotte’s away at school during the week. But I’m here, and as your aunt so rightfully observed,” she added, with a telling glance at Mrs Cusack, “still at home and on the shelf.”

“Oh, not for long, I’m sure!” the older woman exclaimed, flustered. “You’re a lovely girl, Emma, indeed you are, and too clever by half for most of the men hereabouts.” She paused and eyed her niece with obvious pride. “Isabella is a hat designer, you know, and quite talented. She’s attending Central Saint Martin’s and doing very well there.”

“How very impressive of you!” Emma eyed the girl with renewed interest…and just a smidgen of jealousy. “You
must
tell me more about it.”

“Of course. Although there’s nothing much to tell just yet.”

“I’m sure there will be, given time. Do you know anyone else here in Litchfield, Miss Fairfax?”

A guarded expression flickered – very briefly – across the girl’s face. “Me? No, not a soul. And please, call me Isabella.”

Emma turned back to Mrs Cusack. “Why don’t you both come to Lizzy’s welcome home party next Sunday? We’re having it at Litchfield Manor from twelve until two. I can introduce Isabella to all of our neighbours. I know my sister and Mr Darcy would love to see you, Mrs Cusack, and I’m sure they’ll be as anxious to welcome your niece to Litchfield as I am.”

Which wasn’t entirely true on either count, Emma knew. She doubted if Elizabeth or Hugh would much care who showed up at their party on Sunday.

Because, having just finished a romantic honeymoon on a yacht off the coast of Cornwall, she was quite sure they’d have eyes only for each other.

“We’d be delighted to come,” Mrs Cusack said, and turned, beaming, to her niece. “Wouldn’t we, dear?”

Isabella nodded. “Indeed we would. Thank you, Miss Bennet.”

“Emma, please,” she insisted, and smiled. “We’ve no need of formalities here.”

“Very well – Emma.” Miss Fairfax smiled. “I look forward to meeting your family.”

After saying her goodbyes, Emma turned back to the door as Mrs Cusack led Miss Fairfax inside the bakery to begin the serious business of choosing a pastry for herself and her niece.

***

Once back out on the pavement, Emma was as relieved to escape Mrs Cusack’s nosiness as she was to quit the steamy interior of the bakery. Although, she noted as she made her way down Mulberry Street, it wasn’t much cooler outdoors than in. She felt a trickle of perspiration slide down the back of her neck.

She hoped the bake sale today took place inside the church, and not in the shade of the oak trees as it had last year. If there was one thing Emma couldn’t abide, it was sitting out of doors, fending off midges –

“Miss Bennet!”

Hearing the imperious tones of Lady Georgina de Byrne behind her, Emma turned around. Hugh Darcy’s godmother moved purposefully towards her, her iron-grey head held erect. She wore a dress of rose-printed silk and had a wide-brimmed straw hat arranged on her head.

“Hello, Lady de Byrne.” Emma extended her hand. “How are you? I haven’t seen you since Lizzy’s wedding.”

“I’m well, and I trust you and your father and sister are, also.” She didn’t wait for a reply, but continued, “I’ve just had word from Hugh. He and Elizabeth are returning from Cornwall on Thursday.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! I can’t wait to see them, and hear all about their trip. We miss Lizzy terribly.”

“Hugh says they’re having a lovely time. They even managed to tear themselves away from the
Rosings
once or twice to do a bit of sightseeing.”

“I envy them.” It slipped out before Emma could stop herself. “They’ve managed to find what so few people ever do – real, lasting love.”

“Well, one hope it lasts, at any event,” Lady Georgina observed. She cast Emma a quizzical glance. “Do you and your father require any help preparing for the party on Sunday? You’re welcome to hold it at Rosings, you know.”

The unspoken understanding being, of course, that Lady de Byrne would also shoulder the associated costs.

“That’s very kind,” Emma said, her words firm, “but you’ve done more than enough already, hosting the wedding reception, and loaning out your husband’s yacht for the honeymoon. That meant
so
much to Lizzy.”

“We spent our honeymoon on the
Rosings
, Alfie and I. It was perfect. Idyllic. I only hope that Elizabeth and Hugh are one tenth as happy as we were.” She reached out to pat Emma’s hand. “And I have a very great certainty that they will be.”

Their walking had brought them to the end of March Street, thronged now with Saturday shoppers and tourists seeking a late breakfast or an early lunch. Emma glanced up to see Crossley Hall looming on the hill above them.

“I understand the Hall has been sold,” Lady de Byrne observed as she followed Emma’s gaze. “I’m curious to learn who the new owners are.”

“Owner,” Emma corrected her. “I know only that he’s male, and unmarried.”

The woman’s eyebrow rose. “Indeed! Male, unmarried, and obviously quite wealthy, to afford to buy that old pile and fix it up… Perhaps,” she added thoughtfully, “I should host a party to welcome him to Litchfield. It’s always good to know one’s neighbours, do you not agree?”

Emma did not reply. She watched as a workman in coveralls appeared at the end of the drive leading up to the Hall and unlocked the gates, pushing them wide. A white work van idling on the street pulled forward and drove through the gates, lost to view in the thicket of trees and hedges. The faint sounds of hammering and the whine of electric saws drifted down to her ears.

“I do believe they’ve started work already,” she told Hugh’s godmother. “What a job that’ll be! I should think it will take months before anyone can move in.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Lady Georgina sniffed. “Money can expedite a great many things. Mark my words – our new neighbour on the hill, whoever he may be, will move in to Crossley Hall before you know it.”

Chapter 7

“We sold every pie, cake, and cookie on offer,” Mr Bennet said with satisfaction the next morning. “The bake sale was a great success.”

“That’s wonderful.” Emma reached for the pitcher of maple syrup and tipped a tiny bit on her pancakes. “Did you raise enough money to replace the roof?”

“Not quite. But we’re much closer to the mark than we were. Father Crowley will be very pleased.”

Elton, his little paws clicking on the kitchen lino, trotted in and began whining, his ugly-cute face lifted hopefully up to Mr Bennet.

“Well, good morning, boy.” He reached down to ruffle the dog’s fur. “And what is it you want, eh? Food? Water? Attention?”

Emma pushed back her chair with a trace of irritation. “He wants a wee, and he needs to be fed.” She went to the door and opened it, waiting as Elton, after a moment’s hesitation, made his way outside and began to investigate his new surroundings. Glancing up at the gathering clouds, she saw that rain was imminent.

She marched to the bottom of the stairs and called up, “Charlotte! Come and mind your dog!”

“I’m coming,” her sister retorted as she appeared at the top of the stairs in shorts and a T-shirt. “No need to shout, I only just got up.”

“You wanted a dog,” Emma said grimly. “Take care of him, as you promised, because I promise you, I will
not
.” She turned on her heel and returned to her plate of rapidly cooling pancakes.

“God, you’re such a cow.”

As Charli followed her into the kitchen, glaring at her as she got herself a cup of coffee, Emma returned her attention to Mr Bennet. “I was thinking. Why don’t we have a bake sale here at Litchfield Manor, and raise money towards repairing the roof? You could make scones, and Martine could help with the pies and fairy cakes. I can bake cookies.” She warmed to the idea. “And perhaps I can persuade Boz to contribute a few dozen doughnuts or cream horns. We could have an auction –”

“No.”

She looked at him in surprise. “No? But…why not? Even a hundred pounds would go some way towards fixing the roof.”

He sipped his coffee and set the cup back down. “Raising money for the church is one thing, Emma. But doing so for personal gain, to make improvements to my own home? It’s not appropriate.”

“But this
is
the former vicarage,” she pointed out, refusing to yield. “And it has historical value.”

“Yes, perhaps. But it’s our home now. And I will
not –
” he paused to fix a reproving gaze on her. “I will not solicit our neighbours for money to pay for repairs to my own house. And there’s an end to it.”

Charlotte, who’d just let Elton back inside, smirked at her sister. “Now
there’s
something you don’t see every day.”

“What’s that?” Emma retorted.

“You didn’t get your way, for once.” She scooped kibble into the pug’s dish.

“The leaking roof affects you as well as me,” Emma pointed out. “You might think about that the next time it rains and drips water on your dressing table, or ruins the clothes in your closet.”

“Hasn’t happened yet.”