Emily's Choice (Rough Draft)

Chapter Thirteen

Sitting on her bed, Emily stared out at the bright day. A black dress lay on the bed beside her. She made no sound, no move, when there was a knock on her door. After the pause, the door opened.

"Emily?" Rosalind called softly. "Emily, you must come out."

"All right," Emily said, absently. She did not move her gaze from the window. A bird flew past the glass. "I will be along, Rosalind."

Sighing, Rosalind walked around to sit next to her. She was dressed in a black dress similar to the one waiting for Emily. "Emily, you need to finish getting dressed," she said gently. She reached over and picked up Emily's dress. "You will feel better once you do. Come on. Let me help get this on."

"What am I going to do, Rosalind?" Emily asked. She was not even shivering in her chemise, though it was a cool morning. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"First, you must get dressed and then, you will eat some breakfast," Rosalind instructed. From the corner of her eye, Emily saw her cousin frown at the untouched tray on the table by the bed. "And then, you will just take one day at a time. Eventually, you will find it does not hurt as much. Trust me. I understand what you're going through. "

"How can you?" Emily asked listlessly. She turned her head to look at Rosalind. Tears brimmed in her eyes. "Aunt Lawrence said it was my actions that broke my father's heart. This is my fault, Rosalind!"

"No! No, it is not, and you mustn't think that it is!" Rosalind said swiftly. She grabbed Emily's arms. "Dr. O'Connor said your father was doing too much and it took its toll. It has nothing to do with you."

"You cannot know that! I knew my father hated Mr. Williams and I chose to befriend him anyway. If Cousin Percival told my father I not only spoke to but also danced with Mr. Williams in London, just as he threatened he would do, it might have affected my father!"

Rosalind shook her head. "Then, we shall blame Cousin Percy," she responded firmly, "if we must blame someone. He had no right to carry tales of you to your father."

Heaving a shuddering breath, Emily faced the window again. "But I gave him something to tell Father. So, it's my fault."

"Emily, did you want to hurt your father?"

Startled, Emily straightened at the sharp question. "No! Of course not!" she exclaimed. "I loved my father! How can you ask me such a question?"

"To make you see sense! If you didn't want to hurt your father, you would never have willingly caused him harm. It is not your fault that this happened."

Emily stood up and took a step closer to the window. She wrapped her arms around herself. "The point is I unwillingly caused him harm, so I still have to bear the guilt," she pointed out softly.

A few moments later, Rosalind put her arm around Emily's shoulders. "All right, Emily, since nothing I say will convince you," she said. "Come. Let's get you dressed. Aunt Amelia and Aunt Lawrence are already waiting."

Laughing without mirth, Emily turned. "Yes, let's not keep them waiting. That is the last thing we would want to do." She allowed her cousin pull the black dress over her head. "I just...I cannot believe that he is gone, Rosalind."

Doing up the buttons, Rosalind hummed. "It will take time, Emily," she said soothingly. "Now, let's do something this mane of hair."

"Oh, no," Emily said, pulling away. "It will end up looking worse than it already does if you do so. I will do it." She laughed again as she picked up her brush. "My father is dead and I am worried about the state of my hair!"

She threw the brush down and burst into tears. Rosalind stood next to her in front of the mirror. "One day at a time, Emily," she murmured, patting her cousin's back. "You'll get through this."