The Trouble With Emma (31 page)

It was almost too painful to watch.

Shaken, Emma turned away. Could it be that Lizzy still harboured residual feelings for Mark? They’d slept together once, after all. And was it possible that he returned her feelings?

Without giving herself time to further ponder the possibility, Emma set her face in a grim expression and marched up the front walkway and into the house.

***

“I saw you talking with Mark earlier,” Emma said to Lizzy later, after Hugh and Mr Bennet were settled on the terrace with drinks and the two of them sat at the kitchen table with a pot of tea.

She wrapped her hands around her mug and watched Lizzy’s face carefully, expecting her to nod and laugh and say ‘Oh, did you? Yes, we were saying our goodbyes.’

But she didn’t. She cast Emma a quick, decidedly guilty look and fixed her gaze on her own mug of tea. “Yes, we had a lovely chat. I can’t believe he and the crew leave after tomorrow. Where has the summer gone?”

“Where, indeed?” Emma echoed. Her throat thickened. Her sister was being deliberately evasive. Why?

“Things are changing, and so quickly,” Lizzy mourned. “I’m married, you and daddy are about to embark on a great new adventure, running this place as a riding centre…even Charli’s off next summer, gone on her gap year. Not that those aren’t all good things,” she hastened to add. “But it’s ending, Em. It’ll never be the way it was, ever again.”

“I’ll still be here.” Emma took a sip of her tea to hide the grim set of her lips. “Long into spinsterhood.”

“Oh, bollocks,” Lizzy retorted. “You’ll be married, and sooner than you think, I’ve no doubt.”

“I can’t leave daddy. He’d never manage without me.”

“It’s true he depends on you in a great many ways,” her sister agreed. “But you’ve your own life to lead. And I expect he’ll be fine on his own. It’s what he wants, you know. To shoo us all out of the roost so he can feather his own nest…alone.” She smiled mischievously as Mrs Cusack bustled in from the terrace carrying a tray bearing two empty glasses. “Or not.”

“That’s me done for the day,” Mrs Cusack announced to no one in particular as she washed up the glasses and set them in the drying rack. “I’ll say goodnight to you both and see you in the morning. Don’t forget to take those scones out of the freezer to thaw,” she reminded Emma.

“I won’t. Thank you, Mrs Cusack, for all of your help. I’d never have managed without you. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, girls.” And with a wave of her fingers, she swooped down on her handbag and plucked it up, and left.

Lizzy’s brow rose speculatively the minute the front door closed after her. “Em, do you suppose that she and daddy –?”

“Oh, God, no!” Emma exclaimed, and thrust her chair back abruptly. “I don’t think that their…relationship has progressed nearly that far. Besides, I prefer not to consider such things. It’s none of my business.”

Lizzy laughed. “When did that ever stop you?”

And although they joked and teased as they washed up the rest of the dishes, just as they’d always done, and although she tried, Emma couldn’t quite get the image of Mark holding Lizzy in his arms out of her thoughts.

Chapter 56

From the moment Emma got out of bed on Saturday morning, Litchfield Manor’s open house seemed destined for disaster.

Despite Mrs Cusack’s reminder of the previous night, Emma forgot to take the scones out of the freezer. Consequently they were as hard as Devon stone. Between gulps of tea she frantically thawed batches in the microwave, barely looking up as Martine arrived and began slicing fruit and cucumber for a pitcher of Pimm’s.

As they dodged one other on the way to and from the fridge and the sink to the kitchen counter, Martine turned back to make a pitcher of Bloody Marys.

“Did I add enough vodka?” she wondered, frowning. “Can’t remember if I put in half a pint or a pint.” With a shrug, she added another half pint.

“Charli,” Emma said with a mixture of relief and annoyance as her sister wandered in. “There you are, at last! Give us a hand, please.”

“OK. Why don’t I taste the Bloody Marys for Martine,” she offered, “to see if there’s enough vodka?”

“Go to the fridge,” Emma said firmly. “Take out the sausage rolls. Preheat the Aga and bake them until they’re browned. I do hope Mrs Cusack arrives soon,” she fretted, and cast a nervous glance at the clock. “Without daddy here to help, it’s all taking much longer to come together than I expected.”

As if Emma’s mention of her name had summoned her, Mrs Cusack appeared at the kitchen door with several trays of food in her hands, and with a brief ‘good morning’ and a businesslike demeanor, she set to work.

Soon the kitchen hummed with activity and the enticing scents of bacon, sausage rolls and freshly baked apple pies drifted on the air. Charli was dispatched to lay oilcloth on the tables outside and volunteered to pick wildflowers and arrange them in several old enamelware pitchers.

“It all looks beautiful, Charli,” Emma approved as she stood in the terrace doorway and surveyed the tables. “You’ve done a great job of it.”

“Good to know I can still do
something
right,” she retorted. “What time does this bash start?”

“Noon-ish. Which means the early birds should start arriving –” she glanced down at her wristwatch and let out a small gasp “– in less than an hour. I have to go and get ready.”

***

By the time Emma returned downstairs, freshly showered and dressed, the first guests were arriving. She greeted Boz and Daniel, Vivian and her husband Bob, and Jacquetta and Simon, and led them out onto the terrace.

“You look lovely,” Jacquetta approved as she drew back to eye Emma’s sleeveless shirtwaist dress and kitten heels. “Very elegant. Teal is an excellent colour on you.”

“Thanks. But I haven’t got a patch on you,” Emma assured her. The presenter wore a vivid pink A-line skirt and a Chanel jacket with several strands of pearls looped around her neck.

“I like wearing layers,” Jacquetta confided. “Makes it so much easier to strip off as the day goes on.” Her laugh was low and slightly dirty. “Speaking of which, did you invite any hot local men to stop by today –?”

“We’re here,” Boz said, and grinned, his arm looped around Dan. “Sex on a stick times two, that’s us.”

“You two don’t count,” she sighed. “You’re already taken.”

“Feel free to have a drink and a wander round,” Emma said, gesturing at the property. “We’ve a new riding centre…and there’s the garden, and the apple orchard…go anywhere you like.”

“It looks amazing,” Boz told her as he and Daniel sipped their Pimm’s near the terrace door. “I love what you’ve done with it.”

“I did very little,” Emma said. “It was all out of my hands – and that’s a good thing, believe me.”

Boz turned to his partner. “What do you think, Dan? We could buy a place like this, out in the country somewhere, fix it up, put in an Aga…”

“I’ve more sausage rolls,” Mrs Cusack announced as she sailed out onto the terrace bearing a platter.

Emma returned to the house to check on Mr Bennet. He’d come down on his crutches for coffee and bacon, then promptly vanished back upstairs. She went down the hall and stood at the bottom of the stairs.

“Daddy?” she called out. “Are you coming down for the party?”

In answer, she heard a muffled groan. “I don’t think so, no.”

Alarmed, she rushed up the stairs and into Mr Bennet’s bedroom to see him propped up against his pillows and looking decidedly bilious.

“What’s wrong?” she cried, and hurried to his bedside. “Are you ill? Should I fetch the doctor –?”

“No.” He shook his head, and winced. “It’s the blasted pain medication. Sometimes it makes me feel a trifle nauseated.”

“Can I bring you something – a cup of tea? Some water, perhaps?”

“No,” he said again, more firmly. “I’ll be fine. Go back and take care of your guests, Emma, and don’t give me another thought.”

“All right.” She hesitated. “If you’re sure.”

“Quite sure. Run along.” He managed a smile. “You don’t want to miss seeing your Mr Knightley again, do you?”

She stared at him in consternation. “What on earth do you mean, ‘my’ Mr Knightley?”

“It’s plain to see you like him, and he likes you. So it only stands to reason that you’d both welcome the chance to see each another one last time.”

One last time
.

Emma drew in a breath and blinked back the sudden, treacherous rise of tears. She could not –
would
not – let her father see how deeply her feelings for Mark Knightley truly ran.

“I’d best get back downstairs. Lots to do.” She turned to go.

“Emma…if you have a chance at happiness, you must take it. Promise me you will. I don’t want you sacrificing your own life to take care of mine.”

She bristled and turned back around. “It’s hardly a sacrifice! You make it sound as though you’re a burden I’m forced to bear, and you’re not. You’re my father, and I love you, and I’ll always be here for you, as long as you need me.”

Mr Bennet sighed. “As much as I appreciate the sentiment, my dearest Emma, I cannot allow you to squander your own happiness for my sake any longer. Besides, I have Maureen now,” he added gently. “She takes very good care of me. Almost as good as you do. But not quite.”

Although she managed a stiff smile, Emma felt the sting of his words most sharply.

He didn’t need her any longer. He had Mrs Cusack to make his tea and fetch his newspapers, to share cookery recipes and to go on long walks with him.

Emma had become surplus to requirements.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” she said, and turned to go. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” She paused. “Which I’m sure you won’t.”

“Emma,” he protested. “Emma, wait!”

But she pretended she hadn’t heard him, and went back downstairs.

***

The front door opened as Emma reached the bottom of the steps, and Hugh and Lizzy came in.

“Em!” her sister exclaimed, and reached out to draw Emma into her arms. “Gorgeous day for a party, isn’t it?”

Emma went still. The image of Mark and Lizzy holding each other under the apple tree was seared on her memory; she heard her sister’s cry as she threw herself into his arms as clearly as the moment it had happened.

“Yes, it is.” She withdrew from her sister’s embrace and turned to Hugh. “Drinks are out on the terrace. I think you know most everyone.” The doorbell went. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…?”

She turned away to answer the door, and as she did she saw Lizzy cast Hugh a quick, puzzled glance, as if to say,
what on earth’s going on with Emma?

As she swung the door open, Isabella Fairfax gave her a chilly smile. “Miss Bennet.”

“Miss Fairfax.” Emma invited Mrs Cusack’s niece inside and hoped her dislike didn’t show on her face. “Everyone’s gone out to the terrace. Help yourself to a drink –”

“I know the drill, Miss Bennet. Thank you just the same.” And with a superior little smile, she sauntered off down the hall in her sheath dress and high heels and out through the French doors.

Really,
Emma thought irritably,
who wears a sheath dress and high heels to an afternoon open house party? Evidently, Isabella Fairfax does…

“Hello, Emma.”

She turned sharply around, a flush of irritation still evident on her face, and stared straight into Mark Knightley’s dark blue eyes.

Chapter 57

“Mr Knightley! Hello,” she said.

He lifted his brow. “So formal, Miss Bennet. Is this a very formal sort of party?”

“No, of course not.”

“Good. I’m not a fan of formal parties, normally.”

He wore a polo shirt and khakis, along with the ever-present diver’s watch on his wrist, Emma noted, and despite his casual clothing he looked so distractingly handsome that she caught her breath.

“Nor am I,” she managed to say. “Please, come in.”

He leaned forward, and she became aware of the faint scent of his aftershave and felt the hint of stubble on his jaw as he brushed his lips briefly against hers.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, his words low. “I can scarcely think of anything else, of anyone else, but you.”

Emma drew back. The vision of Mark and Lizzy entwined under the apple tree mocked his words.

Although her lips still burned from the fleeting press of his mouth on hers, and although it pained her to do so, she eyed him coolly.

“I’m sure you’ll have a great many things to occupy your thoughts once you return to London…things – and people – far more interesting than myself.” Her smile was polite. “Drinks are out on the terrace. Enjoy yourself.”

Without prolonging the conversation – for, truly, she could not trust herself to speak – Emma turned away from the surprise and confusion she glimpsed in his eyes and plunged away into the crowd.

***

When the doorbell went ten minutes later, Emma excused herself from her conversation with Father Crowley and Mrs Cusack and went to answer it. She gave Mark and Lizzy, both of them talking in one corner and casting her an occasional puzzled glance, a wide berth.

She swung the door wide. “Sir Cavaliere!” she exclaimed. “You came. I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he told her, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “The reinvention of Litchfield Manor is the talk of the village, you know.”

“I didn’t. Please, come in.”

He thanked her and stepped into the hall. With his silvery-grey hair and neatly trimmed goatee, he looked like Gandalf the wizard, all twinkly eyes and knowing glances, minus the robes and pointy hat.

“What a pleasure it is to see you again, my dear,” he said as he enveloped her in his arms. His breathing was a bit laboured. “It’s been far too long.”

“Yes, and I do apologise for that. But daddy tells me you’ve been very ill.”

“Quite ill, but much improved, now.” He patted his blazer pockets until he unearthed a round tin of raspberry pastilles. “I get dry mouth from my medication, so I pop one of these from time to time.”

“Come and sit down,” she invited, and led him to an armchair in the sitting room. “I’ll take you out on the terrace in a moment and introduce you round. What would you like to drink? Plain water? We have Pimm’s or Bloody Marys on hand, unless they interfere with your medication –?”