Page 124 of A Foolish Flirtation

“The Prizefighter,” she elaborated, naming her in-law’s coaching inn.

Emmie took it, wondering if it was a note from her sister-in-law encouraging her to stop by. She had never taken her up on her previous offer to call on them. Turning it over, she suffered a nasty shock, for the handwriting was horribly familiar. Humphrey! What on earth could he be doing at Mina and Nye’s inn? And why would he be writing to her? Her heart thumping in her breast, she thanked Bridget, opened the envelope, and smoothed out the page.

Dear Emmeline,

I hope you will believe me when I write that in spite of everything, I devoutly hope this letter finds you well. I have found it incumbent upon me, for several reasons, to travel down to this part of the world and seek out assurance on this matter.

You cannot possibly know the agonies of remorse that I have suffered these past three months, how much I have reproached myself with, and how racked I have been by guilt for the role I played in the situation in which you now find yourself.

Needless to say, shame has dogged my every step since I last saw you. As you know, the sad demise of Ballentine Trading has left me without occupation, so you may picture how I have trudged the streets ever since looking for suitable employment.

You may imagine my surprise when bumping into one of the old clerks, Harold Hillman, I learned that he and the other employees had received a sizeable sum by way of reparation for the abrupt loss of their income. Not only this, but that some mysterious nobleman had involved himself in the affair.

I expressed my astonishment, but Harold would not, or could not, tell me anything more on the matter. Instead, I was forced to seek out one John Hardiman, who I knew you always held in some regard. You may think this a strange thing to do, but there was some other matter I had with the man, namely the need for a character reference.

However, once I had gone to the trouble to arrange this interview, instead of shedding light on the matter, Hardiman turned around and demanded a series of answers to such extraordinary questions that I hardly knew where to put myself!

From his discourse, I gathered that you had subsequently rushed into marriage with none other than a peer of the realm! However, I could find out nothing further, for when I could offer no explanation for the turn of events, he became outraged with me, refused to write me my reference, and ordered me from his presence!

I need hardly say how truly astounded I was to learn you had married so precipitately, without taking counsel from your friends. Much shocked and mortified by Hardiman’s conduct, I was left with no other recourse but to travel to your former address in Bath to beg a forwarding address from your old landlady who I had met on one or two occasions. She coldly refused my request, doubting you would welcome further communication from me and moreover claiming she had no information to impart!

Her callous attitude quite shocked me, and sadly, I had no option but to encourage the confidences of that impertinent maid of hers, who, at considerable cost to my pocketbook, showed to me an extravagant wedding cake box embossed with a crest and the names of Lord and Lady Faris of Vance Park in Penarth, Cornwall.

Finally, I had your direction, however unlikely it sounded, and you may be sure that I deliberated a good deal on the proper way to proceed. Only after consulting my dear Clara did I feel emboldened to pursue a course of action which culminated in my traveling all the way to Cornwall to secure my peace of mind. The dear helpmeet of my life agreed that it was only right that I assured myself of your subsequent safety and well-being.

Will you meet with me, Emmeline? I have taken a room at a coaching inn which I understand to be a mere matter of miles from your new residence. I can stay three days. Despite some initial misgivings, the place seems to be moderately respectable, and I can hire a private parlor for our meeting.

I apologize for the suddenness of my request and hope you will not be too surprised by my appearance in the locality. I wronged you, I know, but is it too much to hope that you might absolve me of some of this grievous burden I bear and set my mind to rest?

I will wait with much anxiety of spirit to hear back from you.

Yours respectfully,

Humphrey Stockton

Emmie lowered the page, her mouth dry and her heart racing. She could not believe Humphrey was here in Penarth! That he had traveled all this way, and to what purpose! She could not make it out precisely from his long-winded letter. To secure her forgiveness? For her to absolve him of any wrongdoing? Either would be absurd, it could not be so.

She read it a second time and could not help but decide his purpose was twofold. He wanted for her to both appease his own conscience, and to assuage his vulgar curiosity. She shook her head with disbelief. On top of that, she had a sneaking suspicion that if he had heard she was still living on a pittance in Bath she would not have heard one word from the man!

She sat there a moment, deep in thought. What if Humphrey should ask one of the staff at The Prizefighter if they knew anyone from Vance Park? Would they tell him of the proprietor’s connection to Jeremy? That could be awkward. She would not really want her in-laws to know she was formerly engaged for ten years to another man.

Her blood ran cold when she remembered how Jeremy flew off the handle when even the subject of Humphrey was raised. How awkward this all was! She could hardly dash off a clandestine note to Humphrey and arrange to meet him at her own sister-in-law’s establishment. Even writing to refuse such a meeting seemed fraught with difficulty.

What if he should show up here, demanding an interview with her? After traveling such a distance, it seemed unlikely that he would meekly turn about and leave with his tail tucked between his legs. She started out of her chair, then sat back down again. Should she consult Pinky? She at least knew Humphrey and could perhaps offer some impartial advice.

Then she remembered what Pinky had told her that very morning. That Humphrey had treated her greatest friend dismissively and she felt even more indignant that he should show up now, demanding answers about her own conduct. The nerve of the man!

What to do though? That was the quandary. Only last night, Jeremy had asked her to promise there would be no more talk of Humphrey between them for at least a month. And here she was today, in receipt of a letter from him, no less. She bit her thumbnail, frozen with indecision. Drat the man!

She stood and walked to the connecting door, knocking on it tentatively. There was no answer. He must be at the stables as was his habit. After a pause, she opened the door and walked through into Jeremy’s bedchamber. She was practically tiptoeing, which was ridiculous, but she could not help but think herself something of an intruder.

All was as she remembered it from that awful night. The bronze horse figurines, the painting of Venus, lots of dark wood. This time, she ventured further than his bedroom, into the adjoining room which contained a desk and several sitting chairs. Making for his desk, she picked up a pen and wrote him a note on his own headed paper.

Dear Jeremy,

Please see the enclosed letter from Mr. Stockton. I am setting out now for Mina’s inn and will take Lottie with me to act as chaperone. I will meet with him as he suggests in one of the downstairs rooms. If you return at lunchtime perhaps you will come and join us? If it is not too late, that is.

Please be assured that as soon as I have dismissed Humph Mr. Stockton’s concerns, and sent him on his way, I will return home. Please do not worry. I will see you soon.