Belonging To The Earl

9.

Gathering up her skirt in her hand, Emily hooped onto the window and dropped over it. She looked back and forth, making sure no one had seen her, and sprinted towards the green park, hoping desperately for her disguise to work.

The dress she had borrowed or rather, snatched painfully from her maid, Esabella, and wore as a disguise. Hopefully, no one would realize she was gone until she was back, by then, perhaps, which was her desperate hope, she might have met the strange man she had instantly take into liking, despite not seeing his face yet. However, his eyes alone plays the trick.

Her red locks bounce behind her as she ran, and for a moment, for just a fleeting moment, Emily was happy she was not wearing her corset. Her mother was going to be furious!

However, she was going to be happy. That was one thing she was looking forward to. This morning, she had promised her mother to be on her best behavior just so she could be on her good side if only her mother hadn't insisted that she can only go to the park after Jason or whatever his name was had visited. Why would she waste her time waiting for him?

Instead, she took matters into her own hand and decided to go see her 'friend' first. After all, a scandal wasn't about to start just because of that, right?

She stopped in the middle of the park, allowing her eyes to wander around just to be sure he wasn't there before her. But how was she going to recognize him? And the maid's clothes she was wearing was definitely going to be a turn-off. How would he recognize her this way? Emily groaned and sat on one of the chairs in the park, her eyes darting to and fro as she watched people and couples promenading across the busy London street.

She cursed slowly as she stared down at her soup stained brown worn-out dress. Even though she had worn a chemisette to appear a little bit decent than she was to appear if she had come plainly in Esabella's dress, Emily still wasn't satisfied. Her hair that had always been styled in a low bun now seat in tousles and curls behind her back. The little curls on her forehead adding as a shield towards protecting her. It was a good thing she had brought the mask from the ball, that way, no one would easily recognize her, and it would also be easier for him to recognize her.

But what was taking him too long? Emily wondered as she tousled her hair to loosen the tangled web she had managed to convince Esabella to make so she can appear like a real maid. A smile escaped her plumply pink lips, as she remembered that Esabella wasn't as dirty as she made her appeared. If she gets caught, Esabella would also pay the Price, that aside though, she really hope she hadn't offended her.

Dipping her hand into the little dip of her breast, Emily fished out the old fashioned watch she had sneaked from her mother's room. It was only a few minutes to noontime, and yet again, he still wasn't here. How ironic!

Perhaps, she had been played. How foolish of me to have easily fallen for a trick that simple. Perhaps, he found that she was a hoyden, or perhaps, a light skirt because she proposed the location for the meeting. If that's the case then, she has no case in blaming him for not owning up to his side of the bargain.

But that didn't calm the raging nerves burning deep within her chest, nor did it stop her from feeling dirty, unwanted, and a little bit of a light skirt herself. What decent titled lady ever throw herself at a stranger as she did? Surely, she had played herself to the likes of those called the 'ladybirds'.

Groaning loudly, Emily shuffled from her seat and started walking back home, wishing fervently that she had not come out. Angry at herself for playing right into the lion's den, and above all, furious at the fact that Lord Brighton was going to call on her in few minutes. Snatching the watch from where she had kept it hidden, Emily glanced and noticed that it was already five minutes afternoon. This wasn't the time to walk slowly, she chastised herself, then lifting her skirts like she did when coming, Emily sprinted back home.

Now, no one, absolutely no one would save her from the wrath of her mother, because obviously, her little ruse must've been found out already.

As it is, she found her mother outside, trudging to and fro with a scared Esabella standing behind her.

"How dare you!" Georgina burst as soon as Emily stood before her.

"Mother, I can ex..."

"Go in," Emily knew there wasn't any room left to argue, so instead of staying back to say something and attract the attention of passersby, she went in. And didn't dare stop at the living room and sprinted to her room, in hopes to escape the wrath of her mother.

"How boisterous of you to play this game with me!" Viscountess bellowed, banging her hand on the dresser in Emily's room.

"Mother, it's not as it seems. I was..."

"Save your Banbury tale for a lady and foolish as you, young woman!"

Emily gasped, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She pursed her lips, hoping feverently for the tears threatening to spill to go back.

"Mother..."

"I am trying so hard to secure you a future, and all you do is play with it? What happens when you grow old this way? Or when the people of the ton start whispering and calling you a 'barque of frailty'? I'll be damned if I watch you ruin yourself and your chance to wed into a family known all around. Marriage and procreation are the only things a woman needs to define her worth in society."

"I don't need a man's name to be worthy, mother! If that's the case, then I refuse to wed anybody!" Emily flared, letting her emotions get the better of her. If her mother thinks she was going to keep quiet as she strips her to bits and pieces, then she's gotten it all wrong!

"You are and you will wed Lord Brighton if he finds you worthy. You are in no position to argue with that. After all, you are already two and zero and I refuse to let you become a talk of the ton."

"But mother, can't I be allowed to wed for love? Why do I need to wed now when I don't want to? Love is supposed to be a huge criterion in marriage."

"Do you think I was in love with your father when I agreed to marry him?"

"That choice, was yours mother. I demand to be given the rights to make my own decisions!"

"Love isn't what you should be thinking about now, Emily. Be glad that even though you've been to that...that..."

"It's America, mother. And nothing would befall you if you choose to say it."

"I don't care!" She snapped, and Emily simply stared at her without saying anything. "Just be glad someone is willing to take you in."

"But mother..."

"No more buts, Emily!" The Viscountess snapped as the butler knocked to announce the arrival of Lord Brighton. "Get Mrs. Johnson here, Esabella. And see to it that she looks great!" With that, the Viscountess closed the door loudly behind her and left.

Emily slipped to the chair before her, her chest heaving with emotions that she couldn't possibly work through with.

"Do you also think a woman needs a man's name to be worthy?" She asked Esabella, who had just come back from getting the chaperone, Mrs. Johnson.

"My Lady, every woman wishes to marry and have a home of her own. Don't you wish for that?"

"If that is what is going to define my worth in the society, then I don't need it."

"Rather brash of you to say something like that, My Lady." A new motherly voice said. "Isn't that every woman's wish? To have a man's name attached to hers?"

"I, Mrs. Johnson, isn't that type of woman. I will rather be found worthy with my own name, rather than bear a man's name solely for the name of it!"

Mrs. Johnson gasped, as she drew Emily's bathwater. "A lady of honor would say no such thing, my Lady."

"Well, supposing I'm no more a Lady of honor for saying that?" Emily asked, lifting her carefully carved brows as she pulled Esabella's dress over her head.

Mrs. Johnson didn't say anything more, instead, she focused her attention on helping Emily take a quick bath and start the dressing process. One thing Emily hates was having to have her hair tightly tied into a tight bun with pins and needles. She loved her hair free, rather than into a tightly fitted bun that always makes her feel as though her head was going to split at any moment. Now, however, as she sat before the mirror and let Mrs. Johnson do her job, Emily didn't complain like she always did. Instead, she let her thoughts wander towards the man who had stood her up. The problem now is, she knows nothing of his physical appearance. His eyes were the only aspect of his physical attribute that she could remember. But now, after being stood up by him, Emily wished for a miracle to wipe away all thoughts of the stranger.

She winced as Mrs. Johnson pulled her hair, trying to untangle the mass wave of entanglement there. "How did you get your hair into such hideous situation, My Lady?"

'Oh, You wouldn't want to know, Mrs. Johnson.' Emily thought with a grimace and laughed a little at that. "I guess I slept like a loon the night before."

Mrs. Johnson gave her a funny look, but Emily only lifted her shoulders. Now here comes the second part she hates, wearing a corset and the busk. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, My Lady."

"Why do we have to wear a busk after the corset? Isn't the corset doing a wonderful job already?"

"Oh no, of course not, My Lady. A lady needs to keep herself and her body as attractive as possible. The busk helps push up the breast more and separates them. Isn't that wonderful?"

"All so we can look good to a man and earn his name, isn't that it?"

"Well, when you put it that way, you make it sound horrid instead of beautiful."

Emily decided not to argue about it anymore. What use is there to keep arguing with a woman who thinks a man defines a woman's worth?

"All ready, My Lady. Shall we?"

Emily stared at her reflection in the mirror before turning away. Even though she wasn't looking forward to meeting Lord Brighton, Emily couldn't deny the fact that she looked exceptionally beautiful. Her red raven hair had been styled and fitted into a bun, but not too tight to make her uncomfortable. Mrs. Jonhson had added a bandeau with beautiful flowers to the hair. Her long white dress fitted her perfectly, the modiste had done a wonderful job with that. Her deep brown eyes stood out, making her read and red curls more pronounced. The little curves on her forehead had been separated and styled carefully, leaving the middle bare.

"Let's get this over with, Mrs. Johnson."