Emily's Choice (Rough Draft)

Chapter Eight

In spite of Emily's illness, Mrs. Lawrence continued with the plans that had alread been set in motion for the Annual Lawrence Spring Ball. She stopped once in the sickroom to apprise the two cousins that the date was set for Friday evening. Invitations had already been sent out and acceptances were forthcoming.

"Will I have any say in this?" Emily asked, sitting up in her bed. "This year's ball is in my honor, is it not?"

Her aunt shook her head. "Emily, you lack the experience to pull something of this magnitude off with style," the woman said. She dropped a folded sheet of paper on the girl's lap. "Here is the guest list. I don't believe I have missed anyone of any importance, but you may check. Now, rest my dear, and I will tell you all the details when you are up and about."

"Have I ever said how much I dislike her meddling?" Rosalind asked once the woman had left the bedroom. Her fingers were clenched tightly on the book she had been reading to Emily. "Lack of experience indeed! If you lack such experience, which I disagree with, how will you ever get it if you are not allowed to try?"

Shrugging, Emily shook with a hard cough. She unfolded the guest list and scanned the writing. "Since I feel so poorly, it really makes no difference to me who is in charge of the details," she said. She fell silent, drumming her fingers thoughtfully. "But there is one thing I would like to do. Rosalind, can you get me some paper please?"

Frowning, Rosalind went to the desk at the far corner. She extracted some paper and ink. "What do you want it for?" she asked, bringing the items to her cousin.

"I have yet to thank Mr. Williams for his generosity," Emily responded, holding out her hands eagerly. She used the back of the book she had been reading to write on, bending over the paper closely. "I want you to deliver this note for me, please."

"I am assuming you will want it done without Aunt Lawrence's knowledge," Rosalind guessed. Emily just smiled in answer. "If this is for what I think it is, Emily you are being reckless."

"Probably," Emily said cheerfully. She scrawled her signature and blew to on it to help dry the ink. She folded it up. "Please? Will you do this one thing for me?"

Sighing in resignation, Rosalind nodded and took the folded paper. "All right," she said. "I don't know why I let you talk me into things. We'll both end up in trouble."

"Only if you are caught," Emily quipped optimistically. "I know you will be careful not to let that happen."

Rosalind smiled suddenly. "I feel like the message bearer in a novel, tasked with conveying a love note to the hero from the trapped heroine," she said, dramatically. "Are you quite sure this isn't such a message?"

"Rosalind!" Emily protested, her tone scandalized. "Don't be nonsensical. Mr. Williams is a friend and I can write a message of thanks to a friend if I want to."

"'The lady doth protest too much, methinks,'" Rosalind quoted, her tone teasing. She jumped away from the bed as Emily reached to take the message back. "Calm down, Emily. I was only teasing you. I will take it with me the next time I go for a walk."

Giving her one last glare, Emily nodded in acceptance, settling back against the pillows. "Have you seen our Cousin Percy by any chance?" she asked. "What has he been doing while I've been lying here ill as can be? For one who wants to marry me, he has not sent any inquires as to how I get on or any kind of get-well soon message."

Rosalind hesitated. "He has returned to his friend's home again, this time to avoid taking ill himself," she answered. "But Aunt Lawrence has assured me he will be back in time to be your partner for the opening dance at the ball."