Saturday's Lady

Nine

The wind was blowing colder now, but the sun was still warm. Emma walked along the street, Duncan McDonald by her side. Mrs. Remigrant had said that they didn't need a chaperone, she was too tired and besides, there were other people out and it was almost the eighties, for heaven's sake, weren't chaperones a bit old-fashioned? Emma thought that the lady just wanted to marry her off to Mr. McDonald as fast as possible.

"I've got a sister I'm close to," she was telling him, carefully keeping track of Emma Remigrant's family tree. "She's a bit younger than I am, but we've been very close our whole lives."

Mr. McDonald smiled playfully."Does she have the same red hair as you?"

Emma smiled. "It's brighter, I think. My mother's family all had red hair."

"Were they from Scotland or the like?"

She decided she could fill in her own details. "Ireland."

He laughed. "I feel foolish now for talking about Ireland so much when I'm sure you know it already."

"They were from Connacht, not the east like you've talked about. I've never been, though. My mother was third generation American." She smiled. "I like to hear you talk about Ireland. It reminds me of the things my mother said about her visit."

They walked on under the leaves that were gold for this one precious day. Undoubtedly they would be brown tomorrow-- and there were hardly ever the reds and oranges in the fall that people from the East talked about-- and then they would fall, clogging the gutters and waiting for winter to begin while it stayed warm. Colorado was beautiful, but the weather patterns made up for it.

"I was wondering, Miss Remigrant, if I could see you more often."

Emma felt herself blush and her heart stop. She kept walking, slowly. "What do you mean by that, Mr. McDonald?"

"If I could get your aunt's permission-- if she might write to your father, perhaps, I would very much like to court you officially."

He stopped walking and she did too, both looking a little shyly at each other. 

Emma thought for a moment. He was twice her age and knew her under a false name-- but he was handsome, and wealthy enough, and she did like to hear him talk about his travels. "I would like that," she said softly, with a shy smile, and she felt her whole neck turn red. But it was a good feeling, too, even if it was a little awkward. "I'm sure my aunt would have absolutely no objections. She adores you."

Mr. McDonald gave a short laugh. "I'm glad. She is an... eccentric woman, if you don't mind my saying it."

Emma giggled and started to walk again down the tree-lined road. "I think she only hates getting older. Heaven knows she's got enough energy to be twenty."

They turned down the walk that would take them back to the Remigrant mansion and approached the gate. "She'll be taking a nap, I think, at this point in the afternoon," Emma said, pausing by the latch. "I suggest you call on my aunt tomorrow to ask her permission."

"I'll look forward to it," he replied happily, tipping his hat. "I'll leave you here, then, Miss Remigrant. Enjoy the rest of this lovely day." He began to turn away.

"You can call me Emma if you'd like. I've never much liked all the formality of 'Miss Remigrant.'"

He smiled and nodded his head the littlest bit. "I've never known anything except formality, but 'Emma' is certainly shorter. In public may I still call you 'Miss Remigrant?'"

"Of course." She undid the latch and opened the gate a few inches. "If I may call you 'Duncan' in private."

He tipped his hat again and took another step away as she opened the gate wider. "I suppose that's fair. Will I see you at the Byers' ball on Saturday?"

She grimaced. "Oh, no, I leave tomorrow afternoon for a few days, for some business, and can't be there. My aunt isn't terribly happy about it, but she understands."

"I see." He kept stepping back. "I'll call on your aunt tomorrow."

"I'd wish you luck, but I doubt you'll need it." She closed the gate behind her. "Good afternoon, Duncan."

She turned and went inside before the awkwardness could catch up with her. Mrs. Remigrant was not at her nap, but standing right by the door.

"Oh, you scared me!" Emma jumped and put her hand to her heart. 

"How did it go?" asked the old lady eagerly.

"It was rather awkward," admitted Emma, peeling off her gloves and setting them on the table. "He asked if we could begin an official courtship, and I said yes, but I don't know how well I handled the situation."

"Either beautifully or terribly," said Mrs. Remigrant, peeking between the lace curtains. "He's still at the gate."

"Oh..." moaned Emma. "I'd better get changed before I do anything else badly." She began up the stairs. "By the way, he says he'd call on you tomorrow morning, to ask permission to court me. I told him you'd likely have no objection."

"You'd be right," cackled Mrs. Remigrant. "He's a wonderful catch. I'm going to tell him he ought to propose by Christmas."

Emma groaned inwardly and kept walking, but she couldn't hide the tiny thrill that shot through her belly.

*****

Emma conveniently decided to do chores for Cook when she saw Duncan coming down the road. So when the doorbell rang, she was on her hands and knees in the soot of the stove, brushing out old coals and scrubbing the inside.

"Yes, yes, she's just gone to the dressmakers," Mrs. Remigrant was saying from down the hall. "Come into the parlor, Mr. McDonald, we can talk there..."She faded away as she led him down the hall out of earshot.

Emma breathed a sigh of relief and turned her attention to what Hannah was saying to Cook.

"Oh, I'll be gone by morning," hissed the maid. "Watch if I don't."

"You'll have to tell Mrs. Remigrant yourself," warned Cook, banging down a pot by the sink. "I won't do your dirty work, Hannah, especially if you don't have a plan."

"I have a plan," bragged Hannah. "I've already been offered a job at the hotel in Leadville. It's a new town, but there's loads of silver."

Emma saw Cook throw her hands up in frustration. "Once the visitor is gone, then tell her! I don't care. Just let me get on with my work!"

Emma looked away and scrubbed harder at the soot, happy with Hannah's leaving but terrified of what she might do.

Hannah knew plenty of secrets, and if she wasn't warned properly, their leak could be disastrous.

What are your predictions of what Hannah will do? How do you think Emma feels about Mr. McDonald?

Next chapter up as soon as I can get it edited!