Page 86 of Trouble

‘When would I have seen the dog?’ Aster said, the tip of his tongue sticking out as he spread dark paint with a flourish. ‘I don’t exist, remember?’

Grace had explained to Emily in a rush before Aster arrived in the schoolroom that news of Aster’s gentlemanhood had not yet been broken to Mrs Spencer, or to anybody outside Fairmont House, and that they intended it to stay that way for the time being. Emily wondered if Mrs Spencer was the type to reject a proposal because of such news. Captain Edwards certainly did not seem the sort to feel embarrassed or ashamed of it.

‘She’s coming again tomorrow,’ Grace said. ‘I dosohopeshe brings it! Perhaps I could ask Father to write to her and request that the dog comes? Expressly invite it?’

‘You do that,’ said Aster. ‘Emily, does this look like a seagull or a cloud? No, wait, don’t tell me – I actually think it’s better this way.’

It looked like half a spider.

Emily put down her paintbrush and cleared her throat.

‘Mrs Spencer is coming tomorrow?’

‘Yes,’ said Grace. ‘And I thinkthis timehe really will ask her to marry him.’

‘Father invited her and a few other dullards for dinner,’ said Aster. ‘Why such interest, Emily? Do you plan to arm-wrestle her for Father’s love? Between you and me, I think you’d win. He likes you.’

‘Aster,’ Emily said sharply.

‘Are you really in love with Father?’ Grace said, abandoning her own painting, which had been a rather upsetting portrait of Emily.

‘No,’ Emily said firmly. ‘And Aster should stop joking about it, because it’s completely inappropriate and deeply unfunny.’

‘It’s medium funny,’ said Aster. ‘More so when you go all red and start spluttering denials.’

‘I would root for you in the arm-wrestling,’ Grace said thoughtfully. ‘Although .?.?. I could do it in better conscience if you had a dog.’

‘Forget the dog,’ said Aster. ‘It’s a fortune Father needs.’

‘Don’t say such dreadful things, Aster! I’m sure he wants to fall in love. Emily, if youdowrestle—’

‘There will be no wrestling of any kind,’ said Emily. ‘And we should stop speculating about your father’s private business. Finish your paintings.’

‘Mine feels passé to me now,’ Grace sighed. ‘Shall we practise our French?’

‘Go on, then,’ said Aster.

‘Où est votre chien?’ said Grace, her accent perfect. ‘Quel est le nom de votre chien?Puis-je s’il vous plaît caresser votre chien?’1

‘Où sont les autres pattes de votre chien?’2said Aster.

‘Aster,’ said Grace. ‘Isaiddon’t beune brique.’3

Emily was distracted all day; so distracted, in fact, that when her lessons were finished and she was making her way downstairs to the kitchen, she almost bumped into Captain Edwards in the entrance hall. Every time she thought of him, she was catapulted back into his study and thoroughly tormented by the memory of their last encounter – his poorly judged flirting, her rather effective shouting – so the idea of having to make polite small talk was about as appealing to her as the garlic paste Oliver had been hand-feeding to the sickly horse in the stable.

Emily managed to stop before he noticed her, but had to stay completely still to avoid detection, which meant she was watching from the stairs like an alarmed gargoyle as he crossed to the mirror to stare dispassionately at his reflection.

He looked as good as he always did, dressed for formality, but apparently he seemed to find something wanting; he pushed a lock of mostly grey hair away from his face and straightened his collar, then sighed quietly.

His demeanour was more fitting for somebody about to go into battle or do Oliver’s horse paste duties than a man on the verge of proposing. Emily lingered for longer than she should have, captivated by the sight of him without his armour on, wondering if he was giving himself some sort of motivational speech in his head as his eyes searched his own face and his brow furrowed.

If therehadbeen a speech, apparently it had worked. He put his shoulders back, returned his expression to careful neutrality, and then went on his way.

Emily stopped to look at her own reflection in the mirror on her way past, but quickly thought better of it when she saw the state of her hair, and hurried off to the kitchen to help Meera with preparations for dinner.

Later that evening, when the guests had arrived, Emily ushered Grace down to be presented in the drawing room. They left Aster happily ensconced in his room with his painting and some pilfered ginger ale, tunelessly humming something that Emily highly suspected was a very bawdy drinking song.

Emily hadn’t bothered asking Grace not to bring up the dog, as it seemed very important to her, but she did feel a twinge of regret when they entered the drawing room and Grace navigated a small clutch of men in their most expensive autumn suits and made a beeline for Mrs Augusta Spencer as if they had debts to settle.