She pulled her shawl around her shoulders, fastened her bonnet on her head and, with the letter clutched tight within her hand, headed for the London Docks.
Emma knew little of the warehouse in which her father worked. He had spoken nothing of it, so this was her first insight into the place that had become his world as much as the Red Lion had become hers.
All around the walls were great racks of enormous shelving stacked with boxes and bales. The windows in the roof were open, but with the heat of the day and the heavy work many of the men were working without shirts. She blushed with the shock of seeing their naked chests and rapidly averted her gaze, as she followed the foreman through the warehouse. Eventually through the maze of shelving corridors they came to another group of shirtless men who were carrying boxes up ladders to stack on high shelves.
‘Bill de Lisle,’ the foreman called. ‘Someone here to see you.’
One of the men stepped forward and she was horrified to see it was her father.
‘Papa?’ She forgot herself in the shock of seeing his gaunt old body, all stringy from hard labour.
‘Emma?’ She heard her shock echoed in his voice. In a matter of seconds he had reclaimed his shirt and pulled it over his head. ‘What has happened? What is wrong to bring you here?’
‘A letter. Addressed to you. I thought it might contain news of...’ She bit her lip, did not finish the sentence.
‘If you will excuse me for a few moments, gentlemen,’ her father said to the men behind him. ‘And Mr Sears,’ to the foreman who had brought her to him.
Her father guided her a little away from the group.
‘Bill?’
‘It is what they call me here.’
She gave a small smile. The smile faded as she passed the letter to him. ‘Maybe I should not have brought it here, but I thought...’ She stopped as her father scrutinised the address penned upon it. ‘The writing is not of Kit’s hand, but even so... Someone might have seen him. Someone might know his whereabouts.’
Her father said nothing, but she saw the slight tremble in his fingers as he broke the red-wax seal and opened the letter. He held it at arm’s length to read it since his spectacles were long gone.
She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry with anticipation. Rubbed her clammy palms together and waited. Waited until she could wait no more.
‘Is it good news?’
Her father finished reading and looked up at her. ‘It is the best of news, Emma...’
The breath she had been holding escaped in a gasp. Her heart leapt. The terrible tight tension that held her rigid relaxed.
‘...but it does not concern your brother.’
The warm happiness flowing through her turned cold. She glanced up at her father. ‘I do not understand.’
‘The letter is from Mrs Tadcaster, who was second cousin to your mama. She writes to say that the Dowager Lady Lamerton’s companion has run off with one of the footmen.’
‘Why is that good news?’
‘Because, my dear—’ he smiled ‘—the dowager is in need of a new companion, a woman of gentle breeding who would understand what was required of her and might start in the position with immediate effect.’
The penny dropped. Emma suddenly realised why her mother’s cousin had written to impart such trivial gossip. She knew where this was leading. And she should have been glad. Indeed, had it been only a few weeks ago she would have been. But much had happened in those weeks and the feeling in the pit of her stomach was not one of gladness.
‘Mrs Tadcaster had spoken to her ladyship of you and Lady Lamerton has agreed to take you on as her companion.’
Emma could not say a word.
‘Such sudden and surprising news after all this time. Little wonder you are shocked.’
She was shocked, but not for the reasons her father thought.
We need to talk when I return.
That sounds serious.
It is. Will you wait for me?
Ned’s words and all they might mean had not left her mind since yesterday. Her stomach felt hollow.
‘I cannot go.’
‘Why ever not?’ He stared at her
How could she tell him about Ned? Not a gentleman, but a Whitechapel man. A man who was tougher and more dangerous than all he had warned her against. A man who could best five men in a tavern fight and who had worked on these same docks. A man who made magic somersault in her stomach and passion beat through her blood. Whose kiss she wanted to last for ever...and who had implied he wanted a future with her.
‘I could not possibly contemplate leaving you here alone.’
‘Nonsense. It would be a weight off my mind to know that you were living a safe, respectable life with the Dowager Lady Lamerton. Do you not think I have enough to worry over with Kit?’
‘I understand that, but you need not worry over me.’
‘You are a serving wench in a tavern.’
‘It is a chop-house, Papa,’ she corrected him out of force of habit.
‘Emma, chop-house or tavern, it makes no difference. Do you think I do not know the manner of men with whom you must deal? Do you think there is a night goes by I am not sick with worry until Tom sees you safely home and I hear you coming through that front door?’
She felt guilt turn in her stomach at the thought of him worrying so much while she enjoyed being with Ned.
‘Were you with Lady Lamerton, I could find lodgings closer to the docks. There are always fellows looking for someone to share the rent on a single room. It would be easier for me. Cheaper. More convenient. And they are a good enough bunch in here. Tease me a bit, but that is the extent of it.’
‘Lady Lamerton will see this as an opportunity to glean every last detail of our scandal from me. You know she is chief amongst the gossipmongers and has a nose like a bloodhound.’
‘Clarissa Lamerton likes to be queen of the ton’s gossip, not its subject. She will grill you herself, but protect you from all others. What is this sudden change of heart, Emma? This argument is usually the other way around. You have always been so strong and committed to returning to society and tracing Kit.’
Emma glanced away.
‘Lady Lamerton’s ability to discover information is all the more reason to accept the position. You would be well placed, in one of the best households in London, to hear news of Kit. Lady
