“Willa—”

“Please let me explain,” Willa interrupted and she squeezed Madam Whitmore’s hand for emphasis. “I want to come back to London. I have no intentions to stay at Wakefield for any longer than absolutely necessary. I just… I know how much it will mean to Emma if I am there for the wedding.”

“Is that all?” Madam Whitmore asked. “You don’t have any other motivations? Not another thing in mind?”

Willa tried to stop herself from betraying too much in her expression as she returned the woman’s pointed stare. She considered lying for a moment, but thought better of it. “I just want to know that I can face Errol,” she said. “I want to… I do not want to be afraid to return to Wakefield. It is as much my home as his. This has nothing to do with the fact that he is courting another girl—with any luck she will force him to settle down—I just want to know that I can do this.”

“You do not need to prove that you are brave to anyone, Willa.”

The girl shook her head and pushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “I want to prove it to myself.”

Madam Whitmore didn’t react initially. She simply stared at the girl, her eyes searching her young companion’s expression for something that might give her away. Nothing, however, availed itself and finally the woman nodded in consent. “Well, we should make the arrangements soon then,” she said, getting to her feet and moving around the sofa to the writing desk in the far corner. “Except… I will not be able to accompany you myself.”

“Oh,” Willa murmured, her heat sinking a little. “Well, perhaps—”

“However, Mary would be delighted to go with you, I’m sure,” the woman cut in, her eyes sparkling. “She is never one to be left out.”

“You… you won’t try to convince me to do otherwise?”

Madam Whitmore did not so much as glance up as she took the pen from the fountain of ink into her hand and. “I trust you to make the wisest choice. If this is what you want, I will not contest your decision.”

For several long moments silence filled the room. Then with a faint smile Willa said in a quiet voice, “Thank you.”

A smile curled over Madam Whitmore’s lips, her pen scribbling eagerly, the end bouncing rhythmically as she wrote. “We will make arrangements as soon as we can,” she began, reaching to dip her pen once again into the ink and then tapping the excess off onto the rim of the well. “Mary is a wonderful travel companion and I’m certain you to will have a lovely time. Now, we need to decide when you will leave and what gift you will bring.”

“I think we should probably get Lady Brandon to consent to traveling with me first,” Willa put in but she was waved off.

As Madam Whitmore continued to write, the girl tried not to think about the consequences of this decision. She wanted this more than she feared what might happen as a result. She had to face Errol again, just once more. Maybe then every question would be answered with certainty.

“Willa?”

She looked up and her eyes immediately met Madam Whitmore’s. “Yes, ma’am?”

“You have that worried look upon your face again.”

“Yes, I have been doing that a lot lately, haven’t I?” Willa replied with a faint smile. “I just… I’m not sure if I will know what to say to Errol when I see him again.”

Without a word, the older woman rose to her feet and gestured for Willa to follow as se crossed the room to where a large mirror was hung on the wall over a side table and painted vase. Bony hands pushed the girl gently into place and then fell to rest lightly on her shoulders. “You will say nothing,” Madam Whitmore began in a soft voice as she lifted one hand and combed her fingers through the girl’s hair. “If you two speak, it will be when he gathers the nerve to approach you. Until then, you will be every bit the lady you have always been and you will act as if nothing has happened.”

“How am I to—?”

Madam Whitmore shushed Willa quickly with a squeeze of her shoulder. “It will help you keep your head,” she said. “Playing the role of the indifferent party will make seeing him again that much easier for you. With any luck it will also cause him to see repentance that much quicker.”

Willa stared at her reflection, retracing the familiar contours of her cheekbones and eyes in a way that she had since she was a young girl, searching for changes. Her looked to her hair and saw that it was falling loose of its pins. “How can I forgive him?” she asked, reaching up and searching through her tresses for the pins holding them. She sighed in frustration when one pin came loose and a ringlet of hair fell to her shoulder. “I’m not even certain why I’m angry. What grievance did he commit against me?”

Madam Whitmore smiled and reached up to remove all of the pins from the girl’s hair. “I’m afraid he bruised your pride, my dearest. You must feel as though he deceived you.”

“Well, yes.”

“And that if he had ever truly been your friend he would have been forthright about his past, no matter how torrid?”

“Yes.”

“Not to mention the fact that had this affair never come to light, you might have felt free to let yourself care for him enough to marry him without infringing too heavily upon your ideals.”

Willa wanted to argue but did not, knowing it would fall upon deaf ears. In many ways Madam Whitmore’s observation rang true. The thought had crossed her mind in the past. At the time Errol, who was set to inherit his father’s fortune and title, had not been a disagreeable prospect. He had been her friend; he was wealthy, compassionate, and quite handsome. If forced to make the choice, he would have not gone unconsidered…

She dismissed the thoughts quickly. “I resent most that I did not listen to those who had warned me of his character beforehand.”

“You were warned of this?” Madam Whitmore asked and her brows knitted together in wonder as she drew her fingers through each lock she let down to the girl’s shoulders. “I thought that it came as a surprise?”

Willa shrugged. “Knowing Errol’s restless disposition, I imagine he did a good many things of rather questionable morality long before he had anything to do with that poor girl. Now it makes sense that Sir Charles kept him out of the house for so many years.”

The woman nodded slowly, but she did not look convinced. She pulled the final pin and then held the lot of them out to the girl when she turned about. “Again I will say that all cannot be what it appears. Have Theresa help you with your hair and then dress for dinner. Mary will be home shortly and dinner will follow soon after.”

Willa nodded, swept the last pin up from the rug, and then left the room without a word.

***

“I would love to travel with you, my dear!”

Willa glanced to Madam Whitmore and the woman smiled as she lifted her wine to her lips. “I told you,” she spoke into the glass.

Lady Brandon laughed merrily as she reached out and patted Willa’s hand. “Both Jane and I will come with you!”

“Oh?” Willa asked, looking across the table to Jane, who had decided to stay and join them for dinner. “You will come as well?”

“I have never been so far as Cornwall,” Jane replied sheepishly, “And I do love weddings! They’re always so lovely, large or small.”

Willa smiled warmly and reached across the table to the duke’s daughter, who eagerly took her hand. “You are more than welcomed to join us,” she said to Jane’s apparent delight. “I am just sorry to say that we will be leaving poor Madam Whitmore here alone with no one to entertain her.”

Madam Whitmore and Lady Brandon shared a quiet, secretive look. “I assure you that I will be fine,” the former began as she gently buttered a roll. “I will have plenty to entertain me here. You three go, enjoy the wedding, and then bring the newlyweds here so that I may finally make the acquaintance of these two lovers who I have heard so much about. Mary, we should begin making preparations as soon as we can if the wedding is in less than a fortnight.”

“Agreed,” Lady Brandon replied. She spared Willa a short look and a smile began to curl over her lips. “Perhaps your friend Mr. Lori would like to join us, Miss Ward? He is acquainted with the family, isn’t he?”

“He is, ma’am, but I do not know if his business here will be completed in time for him to travel with us. I believe that it was probably Sir Charles’ intention to send Mr. Lori here in his stead so that he would not miss the wedding himself,” Willa said. “However, I will ask him the next I see him if you would like me to.”

The woman smiled brightly and lifted her wine. “Very good, my dear.”

***

Dear Geoffrey,

The days here grow colder and darker. Over these weeks, I have made friends that I would not trade for anything in this world and who I think of now as family in so many ways, but with every dreary London hour that passes I long more and more for Cornwall. I believe now that I would take the moors and the opened, rolling landscape to these damp, stone walks whenever given the choice. I did not think of myself as being so very sentimental about Wakefield and thought that I was only sick for it when I went away with Errol because I had never been so far from it, but these last weeks, while so joyful, have been filled with this peculiar ache. I can only attribute it to being so far away from the place where I was first firmly planted.

This is a small, secondary reason for why I am happy to inform you that I have decided to return to Wakefield in order to witness the ceremony and then escort you and your lovely, new bride back to London for your honeymoon. If this is agreeable to you and Emma, I will arrive in a little over a week’s time. If it is also agreeable, I have friends who wish to accompany me, to see that I am safe on my journey.

I am looking forward to seeing you all.

Most sincerely,

Willa Ward

Asher smiled as he read the letter again for a third time and then lowered the page to his lap, a giddy feeling fluttering in his chest. He would not tell Emma of Willa’s intentions to come for the ceremony. Instead, he would let her be surprised and how happy she would be!

“Any news, my love?”

He looked quickly to Emma standing in the doorway and offered her a smile. “A letter from Willa; it says nothing of consequence,” he said.

She nodded and gently shut the door of the library behind her as she approached, her hands folded behind her back. “I am so happy to see you, my love.”

The happy feeling in the man’s chest swelled until he felt as if he could not breathe. “Why is that?”

“Because I am and because I love to say those words!” Emma replied as she broke into a fit of giggles. She slid her hands into his and then beamed up at him, her eyes bright and countenance glowing with happiness. “My love.”

Asher smiled and leaned down to press his lips to her forehead. “I assure you that I enjoy hearing that much more than you enjoy saying it,” he whispered. “How many hours have I been here? I lose track of the time so quickly…”

“Nearly four,” Emma replied. “Dinner is nearly ready. Say you will join us. I know you are busy, but—”

“I will,” Asher cut in quickly. “I have been careless and neglectful of you these last several days. I have been trying to settle all of my most urgent business in preparation for our holiday, but it has taken away from my time with you and something, I think, should be done about that.”

The girl smiled warmly up at him as she squeezed his hands excitedly. “I agree! Say you will have dinner with us and then walk with me for an hour afterward. Then, my love, I shall let you return to your work.”

“I do not think I could negotiate for better.” He mirrored her brilliant grin and then swept a hand over her forehead and down her cheek, tracing the contour of pale, freckled flesh. “Tell me that you are not reconsidering.”

Emma giggled and pulled her fingers free of his grip to slide her arms around his middle and lay her head against his chest. “I am not,” she said. “I have told you one thousand times how happy I am, Mr. Asher. Must I tell you a thousand times more?”

Asher wrapped his arms around her in return and shook his head. “Perhaps only another hundred times,” he murmured.

The girl opened her mouth to reply but it was then that the door flung open. The pair looked quickly to the entrance and saw that it was Abigail who had entered. She rolled her eyes at them and huffed in frustration. “This is still much more tolerable,” she grumbled.

“Why are you so upset?” Emma demanded. “I am to be married in a few days! You’re not allowed to be in such a sour mood!”

Abigail snorted again in disgust and stalked straight past the pair to the window. She paused and then pointed silently, accusingly outside. Emma glanced up at Asher and then stepped away from her fiancé to join her sister by the window and soon enough echoed Abigail’s indelicate scoff.

“She is here again?” Emma asked with a scowl.

“Of course, she wants to get very well acquainted with all of what will soon enough be hers,” Abigail spat. Her eyes were narrowed in contemptuous, venomous slits. “Why could he not have chosen someone who was not so insufferable? Is he is hoping to drive Father into submission this way?”

Emma laughed and took her sister’s hand between both of hers as their eyes remained trained upon the two figures out the window. “Do not worry. You will come with us to London and we will all be rid of her.”

“Miss Lydia Rush?” Asher asked as he made his way across the room to the small glass of wine he had beside his papers.

“Yes,” both girls replied in unison.

Abigail covered her eyes with her hand as she turned away from the window. “I can’t watch,” she said. “He seems absolutely determined to drive the rest of us mad by bringing that vile creature into our lives.”

Emma shook her head. “What choice did he have?” she asked. “She has fifteen—”

“Fifteen-thousand pounds to her name and she is pretty enough. She is a practical choice,” Abigail finished. Then she rounded on Asher. “In light of the high probability that the three of us might soon go mad by being so near to that thing, I propose that we three leave immediately for Gretna Green. You two can marry there and I will be your witness.”

“As lovely as that sounds, I fear the wrath of your mother too much to comply,” Asher replied. “You two can suffer through a few more days of Miss Rush’s acquaintance. Besides, I have greatly enjoyed all of the ways you two have managed to avoid her little hints about how much she would love to join us in London.”

“You are marrying a most discourteous man, Emma,” Abigail said, pouting as she strode over to the nearest armchair and tossed herself down into it.

Emma giggled. “And I love him so much.”

It was then that the study door opened again and Mrs. Blake stepped inside, one hand resting lightly on the door handle. “Dinner is ready.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Blake,” Abigail replied. “Emma, Mama wanted to speak with you first about some of the last arrangements to be made and she threatened to make them without you.”

“No she will not!”

The remaining pair watched the young Miss Vincent dart from the room in an instant and then turned their attentions upon each other. Abigail rose from her chair slowly and approached Asher’s bureau, her arms folded as she eyed him. “What have you heard? I saw a paper in your jacket pocket.”

Asher stifled a smile and withdrew the page in question. “I received this only a few hours ago. Willa says that she is coming here for the wedding. I did not tell Emma. I want it to be a surprise for her.”

Abigail’s eyebrows jumped. “A surprise indeed… does Willa know of Miss Lydia Rush?”

Asher shook his head, rubbing his jaw in a show of frustration and anxiety. “Errol’s fancy is so short-lived that I did not know what to write or how to put it into words. I could have told Miss Ward all about her and then he could have been through with this girl and onto another before the letter ever reached London.”

“That is what I thought too,” the girl sighed. “Do you plan to tell Errol that she is to arrive here?”

“I considered it, but I do not think it would be wise.”

“Again, you and I are of the same mind.” Abigail patted him gently on the shoulder as she turned and made her way to the door. “But soon all will be well. We will be off to London in a few, short days."

"How will that make everything well?" Asher asked.

The girl paused with her back to the door jamb and fixed him with a very bland look. "I will consider all well when we are rid of Miss Lydia Rush."

Forgive me please for typos or gross grammatical errors or things that just plain do NOT make sense! This chapter was cranked out during all night writing marathons, so it's not very well put together.

Historical facts first: Gretna Green is a small town in Scotland, just over the border. Scotland had much looser rules when it came to marriages and couples often traveled there to elope.

Everything else: I realize that Abigail is acting a bit strangely, but I like to think that she's developed a healthy respect for Willa and a fiery hate for Errol's new girl. Also, her interaction with Asher would be born more of sisterly affection for Emma. She might be a bitch but she, ultimately, wants Emma to be happy. That and I just liked the idea of using her more productively than always putting her in the role of 'bitchy minor villain'.

(Note: So with some sleep under my belt, I've changed around the last part.)