Page 65 of Trouble

‘That is none of your concern, really,’ said Charles breezily. ‘You know the man, now. You know the house. Do you think you can bring me proof or not?’

She probably could – but in that moment, she knew with certainty that she would not.

‘Look,’ said Charles. ‘I am still very willing to help you, Emily. But I cannot do it for no return. And now that we know each other better, I’m sure there are things aboutyouthat you would prefer kept quiet.’

Emily straightened up a little in her seat. It was not quite a threat, but the intent was there – the promise of something more, if she did not behave. He didnotknow her well, but he certainly knew something that nobody else did: that she was a liar, and a thief.

‘He must have a study, some place where he writes his letters – why don’t you start there?’

Emily could have laughed aloud. She had been granted a reprieve, for now, simply because he did not believe her intelligent enough to know what she was looking for. Astudy. How clever! It never could have occurred to her – astudy. After all his flattery, Charles thought her no more than a desperate fool, incapable of connecting the boldest of dots.

She supposed shehadbeen a desperate fool, just not in precisely the ways he imagined. She had backed herself into this corner. If Amy could have seen her now, she would have been rightly horrified; one day she would have to tell her sister what she had done here, and the thought of it flooded her with shame.

All she could do now was try to buy herself a little time.

It took every ounce of her willpower to nod, seriously, as if the suggestion of a study was actually a very useful one.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘A study. I’ll look.’

‘There’s a good girl,’ said Charles. ‘I’ll see about selling that box of yours – and I’ll meet you here in a fortnight.’

He got to his feet and gave her a quick pat on the shoulder.

Emily thought, with burning passion, about breaking every one of his fingers.

He smiled at her on his way out, and winked.

‘I think this is all going to work outmarvellously.’

Chapter Twenty-Two

The house felt strangely quiet when Emily returned. As soon as she crossed the threshold, her thoughts flew to Aster.

She half-ran up the stairs, ignoring Akia’s questioning look from down the hallway, where she was exiting a room with an armful of bed linen, and only stopped when she saw that the door to Captain Edwards’s study was slightly ajar.

She couldn’t hear anything coming from inside. When she moved closer, the room shifted into view.

Aster was there, standing by the desk. Captain Edwards was there, too, his coat on the floor, as if it had fallen from the back of his chair.

They were embracing, Aster’s head buried in her father’s shoulder. It looked as if they had possibly been that way for quite some time. Neither of them looked up, and Emily stepped quickly away, trying to quiet her laboured breathing.

A little way down the corridor, she found Grace sitting on the floor, cross-legged. It was not atallladylike. For once, she looked something close to her age.

‘What are you doing down there?’ Emily asked her quietly.

Grace looked up and shrugged, her face softly puzzled.

‘Apparently I have a brother,’ she said.

‘A brother?’ said Emily.

‘Aster,’ Grace clarified.

Aster.

Emily thought of Aster’s face in the mirror, freed from all that hair. Aster in the boat among all those men and boys, shoulders raised and chin lifted, draped in Captain Edwards’s coat. It fitted at once, in a way the coat hadn’t yet. Aster. Aster, Grace’s brother. Aster, Captain Edwards’s son.

Back at the mill, Emily had worked alongside Alexander, a quick wit with a knack for untangling the looms. Occasionally they had exchanged friendly words – and then one day, Alexander had been gone. She had been Alexandra when she returned six months later, her grown-out hair tucked under a bonnet just like Emily’s, her pay cut in half. She and Emily had picked up exactly where they had left off, working side by side on the factory floor.