planning to go to London for my confinement,’ Jane said. ‘Hayden thinks I should be near the doctors there. But now that you are here...’
‘You must still go,’ Emma said firmly, a bit relieved she might have a few days to find her feet without Jane worrying over her as well as the new baby. ‘Your health comes first. You can’t worry about me now.’
‘But you can’t rattle around Barton all alone! You could come with us to London.’
London was the last place Emma wanted to be. All those watching eyes and gossiping tongues, all too ready to stir up the old scandal-broth of her elopement and disastrous marriage. ‘Actually, I was thinking I could use one of the old cottages. They are so small and cosy, a perfect place for me to decide what I should do next.’
‘Live in one of the cottages,’ Jane exclaimed. ‘Oh, Emma dear, no. This is your house.’
‘But you said yourself, it is too big for one person. And I can’t go to London now. Not yet. You wrote that Hayden was seeing about releasing my small inheritance from Mama to me soon—I can make do on that in the cottage.’
‘But...’ Jane looked all set for an argument, but she was, luckily, distracted by the twins calling for her. ‘We will talk about this later, Emma,’ she said as they hurried into the drawing room.
Emma was sure there would be a long talk later, yet she was set. A small cottage, where she could be alone and think, would be perfect for her now. She would be out of Jane’s way, and she could decipher how not to make such foolish mistakes again.
The twins were already settling in next to a lavishly appointed tea table near the windows that looked out on the gardens. Light gleamed on their grandmother’s silver tea service and platters of sandwiches and cakes, all cut into pretty shapes and arranged in artistic pyramids.
The children eyed the display avidly, but sat quietly with hands innocently folded in their laps.
‘All this for me?’ Emma said with a laugh.
‘Hannah missed you, too,’ Jane said, mentioning the woman who had been their maid for many years. In poorer times she was their only maid, but now she was housekeeper of Barton.
‘Here, Aunt Emma, you must have this cake,’ Eleanor said, passing her a pink-frosted confection.
‘Thank you very much, Eleanor dear,’ Emma said, sure her niece was most serious now about fattening her up. As they sipped at their tea, she studied the gardens outside. The terraces of flowerbeds sloped gently down to the maze and she was sure when summer came it would be a glorious riot of colour. ‘What has been happening in the village of late? Anything interesting?’
‘Oh, yes, a great deal,’ Jane said enthusiastically. ‘There is a new vicar, an excellent gentleman by the name of Mr Crawford. He is Lady Wheelington’s son from her first marriage. I am sure you must remember my friend Lady Wheelington? She is newly home from abroad herself. Mr Crawford is sadly yet unmarried, but I am sure that will soon be remedied. His mother has hinted of a young lady from Brighton. And old Lady Firth finally won the flower show last year! It was long past time. And Sir David Marton has come back to Rose Hill at last.’
‘Sir David Marton?’ Emma said, startled by the name. She feared the words came out much sharper than she intended and quickly turned away to nibble at her cake. ‘I hadn’t realised he ever left. He didn’t seem the adventurous sort.’
‘So you do remember Sir David?’ Jane said.
Of course Emma remembered him. How very handsome he was. The way he seemed to admire Jane’s sweet ways so much. The way he would look at Emma, so carefully, so close and calm, until she feared he could see her every secret.
How would he look at her now, after everything that had happened? Would he even speak to her at all?
Somehow the thought of Sir David’s disapproval made her heart sink just a bit.
‘I do remember him,’ she said.
‘Yes. He was quite kind to us when things looked rather bleak, wasn’t he? And he was such a help that night of the fire.’
He had been kind to Jane, always. ‘Yet you say he left the village?’
‘Yes. He married Miss Maude Cole. Do you remember her as well?’
Miss Cole, who Sir David had danced with at that long-ago assembly. Pretty, vivacious Miss Cole. The perfect wife for a man like him. ‘Of course. She was quite lovely and good friends with his sister, as I recall, so such a match makes sense.’
Jane arched her brow. ‘So everyone thought.’
‘Was it not a good match after all?’
‘No one knows for sure. Lady Marton preferred town life, so soon after the wedding they went off to London and rarely came back here. Hayden and I have mostly been at Ramsay House or here at Barton, but we heard she was quite the toast.’
‘Was?’
‘Sadly, Lady Marton died last year, and Sir David has come back to Rose Hill with his little daughter. We haven’t seen them very much, but the poor child does seem very quiet.’
‘She must miss her mother,’ Emma said quietly. Surely Sir David also missed his pretty wife. She was sure he would never have allowed his marital life to grow messy and discordant as hers had. The poor little girl, how she must feel the terrible loss.
‘Miss Louisa Marton, who is now Mrs Smythe, is said to be most earnestly searching for a new sister-in-law,’ Jane said.
‘She must surely be disappointed at the lack of scope for matchmaking around here,’ Emma said, making her tone light. She didn’t want to talk or think about Sir David any longer. It only reminded her of how very different things were now from when she last met with him. ‘Tell me, William and Eleanor, do you like to play blindman’s buff? It was your mama’s favourite game when we were children, though you may not believe me now. Perhaps we could play a round later...’
* * *
From the diary of Arabella Bancroft
I think I have discovered one of the reasons I was summoned to Barton. In return for the gift of the estate, the king expects my cousin to host many parties for his court. My cousin’s wife’s health does not allow her to play hostess to such a raucous crowd, thus my place here. I know little of planning grand balls, but I confess I do love the new clothes—so much silk and lace, so many feathered hats and furred capes!
And the people who come here are most intriguing. I have seldom had the chance for such conversation before, and once I am an improved card player I shall surely fit in better.
I have been asking about the lost treasure, but beyond ever more fantastical tales I can find out nothing...
Chapter Two
The silence in the carriage was absolutely deafening.
David looked down at his daughter, Beatrice, who perched beside him on the seat of the curricle. Most of her face was hidden by the brim of her straw bonnet, but he could see the tip of her upturned nose and the corner of her mouth, unsmiling
