Artemis (previously The Lady Lockhart)

Chapter Nine - Part Two

Bad news: we've taken quite the tumble down to #972. Here's an early chapter in a bid to salvage the situation before we're off the Hot List altogether – please help to get us back up by voting, commenting, and sharing this story with friends! :)

WHEN EMMELINE ARRIVED AT WELLINGTON HOUSE THERE WAS NO ONE there to greet her. The expansive estate was as silent as the death that still roamed its halls poisoned its air, as suffocating as the decay that had rushed in to fill the void Anne Lockhart had left behind once she left the human realm. Her aunt Bethany was likely to be out calling on her city-dwelling friends, her father was probably cooped up in his chambers, and there was a high chance that Emmett was among noble acquaintances at some kind of afternoon party somewhere.

Upon their arrival upon the grounds Penny went ahead, with her mistress's permission, to unpack Emmeline's things and send her worn dresses to the maids to be washed. Then she found herself surrounded by no one but her own solitude, and Emmeline felt the immediate urge to leave, but the thought of walking alone through the city streets seemed unwise to her, and Penny was already halfway through her duties. She felt that it might be unfair to order the maid in waiting to promptly quit her activities just to fulfil her own frivolous wants. Hence she did her best to shake the feeling off, instead deciding to pen an letter she thought very much overdue.

Since she had not packed paper and pen with her from Lockhart Manor, thinking that her trip would be a short one, she would have to proceed to the room that used to be her study in search of writing instruments. If she found none there, she would request for some from her father, who she was sure wrote letters too, or ask one of the maids to run and buy her some from the shops not too far away. She managed to locate her old study only with slight difficulty, and when she pushed the door open, she was astonished to find it furnished identically as how she had left it. For a reason Emmeline did not know, her father had kept her study exactly the way it was, even after she had departed for Portsmouth.

She sauntered into the room, still reeling from her surprise. As she ran her fingers over the familiar table that seemed to have shrunk slightly, another wave of shock washed over her jumping heart; not a speck of dust was left behind on her hands. The duke appeared to have maintained the condition of the room – there was no doubt that it had been cleaned since she left, probably on a regular basis. The only question weighing on the young woman's mind was: why?

Perhaps it was not his doing, Emmeline reasoned with herself as she attempted to find some plausible explanation, perhaps it was the maids who kept it in such good condition. She had always shared a special bond with the servants, and it was entirely possible that they cleaned her study as a means of remembrance after she had left them alone with William Lockhart.

This was, at least, a more likely reason for the excellent upkeep of her childhood study.

She seated herself before her old desk and, with her fingers crossed, opened the drawer in which she always kept her paper supplies. Just as she had hoped, her prized collection of writing paper laid within the drawer, waiting for her to return again. The different colours drew a smile to her face, and she felt an odd warmth seep into her heart when the familiar smells of her scented paper wafted out of the drawer. Her father has given them to her on her twelfth birthday. When they had been gifted to her, she had not thought much of them; but as she grew and blossomed and into a very literate young lady, she quite enjoyed using them when writing to her dearest friends and family. Bethany Rutherford, in particular, received many letters from her written on sweet-smelling paper.

When she, at the age of eighteen, left London for Portsmouth together with her brother in a fit of rage, she had decided not to bring them along with her simply because her father had given them to her. But now, gazing upon them half a decade after the fiasco that had driven away from the city to begin with, she felt as if she was seeing an old friend again for the first time.

Retrieving one of her spare quills and a bottle of ink she did not remember leaving behind at Wellington House, she chose a blue sheet of paper and, with a light smile upon her lips, began to craft a letter.

Dear Captain Jamison

    It is with quite some disappointment that I inform you that I have found myself unable to leave the city for another week, as I am obliged to attend a ball Her Majesty Queen Sarah intends to throw. You are quite dear to me, despite the short duration of our friendship, and I had quite wished to see you...

***

WHILE EMMELINE SAT ALONE IN HER STUDY, BETHANY RUTHERFORD AND William Lockhart sat face to face in one of Wellington House's drawing rooms, engaged in a most serious discussion.

    "This is good for Emmeline," Bethany argued. "She will enjoy a rich life as a princess. And someday she shall be Queen! Queen! Mayfair, tell me you do not wish for your daughter to be ruler of her own land."

    "Indeed, I do wish for her to live with material comforts," was his grave response. "But pray tell, Sister, has she said anything to you about how she feels of this arrangement?"

    She paused, and her eyes locked with the duke's icy green ones. She was silent for a moment too long before she finally said, "No, Brother, she has not taken issue with me about this. I can only assume she is happy with my choice for her, you know, if she remains silent. Of course, I will do only what is for her own good—"

    "So there is not another man, then?" William questioned.

    Bethany's brow became creased. "Why, do you know of one?"

    William's stony eyes stayed locked upon her challenging ones for a second before he exhaled, long and deep and sad, and leaned back in his chair.

    "... No."

Thanks for reading! Vote, comment, follow - it means the world to me! x Leanne