Someone Like You

Chapter Seven

The very next morning, Simon lay in wait for Emmy to come back from her daily walk. Earlier, when he had sat down for breakfast, Mrs. Daniels had informed him that Emmy had eaten already and had gone out. So Simon sat and ate alone, acutely aware of how much he missed Emmy's chattering. She never seemed to care much if he held his end of the conversation; she just went on and talked.

Simon hadn't realized how much he had come to rely on her presence.

"There you are," Simon said as soon as Emmy crossed the door.

"My lord," Emmy said, not looking at him.

"I've been waiting for you for a while."

"Did you need something?"

"You're late for today's lesson." Simon said, surprising them both by taking her hand and steering her toward the music room.

Emmy sighed and tugged a little to get him to release her hand – he didn't – before adding. "I didn't think you would want to keep with the lessons."

"I was a bit beastly yesterday and I meant to apologize for that but you weren't at breakfast, if you recall." Simon said. "I think I've figured out some of your problems."

"Really?"

"Yes," Simon said loftily as he made Emmy sit on the piano bench. "Try to play a scale, start here." He added, pressing a key softly.

Emmy sighed but did try to do the scale. "It's not any better," she winced over the sound.

"You hit the keys to hard." Simon pointed out, reaching for her hands as Emmy rolled her pretty brown eyes at him. "That wouldn't be a problem if the sound wasn't s uneven. You're left-handed, right?"

"Uh, yes." Emmy said surprised.

"I thought so, you always hit harder with the left hand than with the right." Simon said. "Arching your fingers properly will help. See?" He added, gently curving her fingers into position and urging her to try. She still hit the keys too hard for his sensibilities but it was a little better.

"It still sounds bad," Emmy said. "It doesn't sound like when you play."

"I've been playing for 25 years, Emmy, of course it doesn't sound the same."

Emmy sighed and withdrew her hands. "I guess that's part of it." She said sadly, "You know how when you really want do to something you sort of expect, deep down, to be good at it?"

"You were expecting to be good at playing piano from the start?" He asked, a little haughtily.

"Don't laugh at me, but yes. I mean, I hoped. I didn't think I would be so bad at it."

"We all were bad at some point or another," Simon said, though he couldn't recall when was the last time he wanted to learn to play something and hadn't been good at it. "Now, I want to show you something." He said, adopting a gentler tone of voice as the lesson went on. "When you press the keys, you do it like this." He said, pressing his fingers along one of her arms, "When I tell you to be gentle I mean this," He added, moving his fingers lightly over her arm, like a caress. "Notice the difference?"

Emmy heard the question but for a moment she couldn't process it. "I think so." She said finally, reaching out to touch the back of his hands, her fingers moving lightly across it. "Like this?"

"Arch your fingers," He reminded her. "But yes."

He had her try at the piano once more, going slowly over the scale; he kept saying it was all right if her fingers were slow, they would work on speed later, Simon just wanted her to learn this bit perfectly.

"I think that's enough for now," Simon said after about an hour.

"All right," Emmy said brightly, pleased by the fact that she didn't sound as bad as she did the day before.

"You can go now, I'm sure you have things to do. I didn't ask you before."

"Oh, nothing that can't wait," Emmy said, turning to face him and bringing her face closer to his.

"What are you doing?"

Emmy pulled back and blushed, "We had a deal…" She said slowly.

"Oh, that. You don't have to kiss me for this." Simon said, though he was mentally kicking himself. Emmy was so close, her lips all dewy and kissable, and she smelled so nice: clean and fresh; and, most of all, he wanted to kiss her.

Emmy smiled at him, "Are you sure?" She asked and he could hear the teasing in her tone.

"No." He answered, wrapping an arm around her to pull her closer to him. "Not sure at all."

And then he kissed her.

-000-

Simon and Emmy's lives quickly settled into a routine after their first (successful) piano lesson. They ate breakfast together and then spent most of the morning in the music room, practicing until lunch. Emmy was making some progress with her playing and she didn't sound so bad anymore –at least, Simon had stopped wincing all through out the lesson – and Simon had started to teach her to read music.

The rest of the time, Simon would occupy himself with corresponding with his business man and state mangers and writing to his friends; while Emmy took over the running of Dressden Castle and involved herself with a few of the local charities to help improve the living conditions of Simon's tenants.

And at night! At night Simon came into Emmy's room and he would kiss her and touch her in the most delicious ways, he was even teaching her ways in which she could touch him in return.

Emmy didn't want to admit it to herself but she was inching closer toward maybe deciding to cross that last barrier with Simon. She had never been overly curious about sex, thinking that would happen when she got married, but she was 25 and unmarried and, after one particularly heated kiss-collection with Simon, she had begun to wonder.

They even talked now, really talked. Emmy would tell him about growing up in Cornwall with her sisters, about the tenants she had met and the few other local ladies she had become acquainted with. Simon told her about his cousin Evie – he even shared some of her letters with her – and about growing up with Harry, Marcus and Gerald, how he used to drive them crazy playing the violin at all hours and about how him, Harry and Marcus had meddled to ensure Gerald and Caroline married (as Gerald had been originally engaged to Caro's sister).

It wasn't always easy, sometimes his dark-moods caught up with him, especially as the anniversary of Mirabelle's death approached, but he was wallowing a little bit less in those dark moments, allowing himself to be distracted – usually by fondling Emmy.

"It's sunny out," Emmy said one morning. It had been raining for the better part of the week and, though she appreciated the extra practicing time (since there had been nothing else to do, Simon had practiced with her longer than usual), she wanted to be outside for a change.

"You said so already," Simon said, bent over a music sheet. He was trying to remember a simple piece he used to play during his childhood, writing it out so that Emmy could use it to practice.

"Couldn't we go outside?" Emmy cajoled. "We could have a picnic! I haven't been to a picnic in years. Please?"

Simon turned to her, ready to refuse – he was turning out to be quite tyrannical when it came to practicing time – but when he saw Emmy's eager face, a little piece of his heart folded over and, before he knew it, he was agreeing to a picnic, of all things.

Emmy quickly jumped from the piano's bench and ran to the kitchen to request a picnic basket to be prepared, and then gathered her things. Not 15 minutes later she was coming out of the front doors carrying the biggest picnic basket he had ever seen.

Simon went to fetch the basket as soon as he saw her struggling with it. "My own foolishness," She said, once he relieved her of the burden, "Thomas did offer to carry it for me but I thought I could handle it on my own."

"Regarding your foolishness, you won't hear disagreement from me." Simon said, carrying the basket to the small, open carriage that was waiting down the steps. "I remembered you said you don't know how to ride very well, so I thought we could take the carriage instead."

Emmy smiled brightly at him, "Thank you." She said as he helped her up.

It was a beautiful day after so many days of rain, the sun was shinning and the air was crisp and just a little bit damp. Simon couldn't believe he was feeling quite so light hearted; it just was a feeling he didn't associate with Dressden Castle.

"There!" Emmy pointed toward a big, leafy three. "Let's sit there."

Simon complied, stopping the small carriage and helping her down. Emmy busied herself with spreading an old blanket Mrs. Daniels had given her and pulling out the dishes from the hamper that had been prepared. There were three different kinds of small sandwiches, scones, fruit and even a cleaver, lidded bottle with lemonade inside.

"You have a beautiful estate." I said as we sat down to eat. "It's lovely out here."

"I suppose, I used to love it when my Mother was alive, she much favored Dressden to Town, and so I spent most of my childhood here. After she died, I didn't like it nearly as much, so I don't come often."

"If I had a estate like this, I would never leave."

"I like the countryside, I just don't like Dressden very much. I usually spend most of the time in London or at my friends' homes. It's just these few weeks that I don't like being around people."

"You're around me," Emmy said.

"You didn't give me a choice." Simon without rancor.

"You know you love me," Emmy said offhandedly and leaned into him to plant a quick kiss on his lips. Quick, however, was not in Simon's mind, so he pulled Emmy closer until she was practically on his lap and began kissing her long and deep.

He was just getting around lowering her to the blanket when he heard a horse approaching in the distance and was forced to let her go. Emmy sat up straight and smoothed her hair and clothes, while they saw a man on horseback approaching down the road.

Simon expected the man to pass them by, since they weren't that close to the main lane, but the rider saw them and waved and actually detoured to meet them.

"Greetings!" He called out as he dismounted.

"Good afternoon," Simon said, standing in front of Emmy. "Who are you and why are you on my land?"

"Your land?" The man asked. "Are you from Dressden?"

"The Earl of" He said, a bit condescendingly.

"I heard you were in residence, my lord, but I didn't believe it." The man said, he was younger than Simon, tall and brown haired, a bit non-descript but handsome enough, Simon supposed. "I'm from Meadows Hall, name's Davis."

Emmy gasped, drawing both men's attention to her.

Simon scowled but Mr. Mathew Davies of Meadows Hall seemed delighted. "Emily!"

-000-

End of Chapter Seven