Saturday's Lady

Eighteen

Andrei and Emma danced for a long time, just talking lightly as they always had. Emma had almost forgotten about the appearance of her father, and she and Andrei happily talked about the mine.

"It's just that it's rather small," he said, "and the town isn't growing much. How do you create a new industry in a town?"

She thought. "If the area is pretty enough, then maybe a-- a resort of some kind? If there were reliable ways to get up the mountain, and a nice hotel, with walking paths and such, it could be a summer retreat for visitors, and--"

"Miss MacEilan!" came a cry from the entrance hall. Emma blanched, feeling her legs weaken beneath her. "Emma MacEilan!"

Emma looked up at Andrei, who only looked confused. "What's going on?" he asked her.

She wrinkled her brow, only trying to look confused. "I don't know."

People stopped dancing and started moving towards the entrance hall. Emma and Andrei moved with the crowd.

In the hall stood Hannah, still wrapped in all her shawls, and James MacEilan was behind her. Her eyes lighted on Emma and her face immediately hardened into a smile. She lunged forward and grabbed Emma's gloved hand, yanking her to the front.

"What are you doing?" Emma cried, pulling back, feeling her face turn bright red. "Hannah, you were fired months ago! We told you to leave!"

"Don't lie to these people!" Hannah yelled as she pulled James forward. Emma stared at him in horror. "I wasn't fired!" She turned to the horrified crowd. "This girl is no niece of Augusta Remigrant's," she announced. "Her name is Emma MacEilan, from Ireland, and this man is her father."

Mrs. Remigrant stepped forward,  her face purple with rage. "That's a lie," she said in a deadly calm voice. "You always were a terrible employee, Hannah, and I can't think of what you have to gain from this."

Emma looked frantically at the people. They were all staring at her.

"Emma," James breathed, reaching for her, "Emma, m'iníon, imigh liom..."

She shrank away, half acting afraid and half completely terrified about what would happen. "I don't know what you're saying," she whispered to her father. "I don't know you." Her face may have been red but it was chalk white now, and she couldn't feel any air coming into her lungs, but she knew it wasn't the tightlacing. "You're only a madman speaking some backwards language."

James had tears in his eyes as he stepped toward her again, but everyone at the party stepped back, and they took Emma with them. The woman on her left kept a protective arm around Emma's shoulders, and Andrei stood at her right, with one arm in front of her. But Emma still felt too exposed, too open. The situation from her nightmares seemed to come from far away and yet too close.

James reached for her.

"I don't know you!" she cried. "Hannah, I don't know what you think you're doing, bringing a strange man into this party and causing such a disruption. But everyone here knows me, and they have for a long time! My name is Emma Remigrant, and my father is no drunk but a wealthy banker. You all have heard me speak!" She was somehow regaining confidence, but it was a fragile sort of strength. "Do I sound like an Irish woman? Do I act like an Irish woman? It's my misfortune to be red-haired, but everything else this former maid has said is nothing but jealous fantasy and some sort of revenge for her being fired long ago."

The woman's hand on her shoulder gave her a reassuring squeeze. 

"Leave this house immediately, Hannah!" yelled Mrs. Remigrant, "and take your man with you. You're upset because you were fired for stealing, but how will this help you? Leave!"

Emma knew the bit about stealing was fake, but everyone around her gasped.

"Maids," muttered one man, "my wife had one that was absolutely insane, got fired for stealing an earring and then tried to burn the stable down." Several people tittered in agreement.

Hannah's face cracked. She knew her plan had failed, Emma realised, because Mrs. Remigrant had played her cards correctly. Every one of these people had had an employee who had attempted revenge, or they knew someone who did. Hannah had been turned into another example of a Crazy Maid, just another story. If nothing else, it was a show of power. Mrs. Remigrant was wealthy, and Hannah was not. Mrs. Remigrant had a network of other wealthy people. Hannah did not.

"We do know Miss Remigrant," said Andrei, "and we know who she is. You've upset the poor girl terribly."

Hannah gaped, openmouthed. Emma almost felt a pang of regret.

Aren't you tired of living a lie?

But then Hannah turned, and took James by the arm, and walked out without another word. As the door shut, Emma almost collapsed with relief. 

"Are you alright?" asked Mrs. Remigrant. "That was terrible of her. Go on and lie down, won't you?"

"I'm alright," Emma replied with a shaking smile. "I hate to be made the center of attention, but I'm just a little shaken. Please," she said more loudly, to everyone, "Let's just forget about that and keep enjoying the party. It's just another insane maid!" 

The lady released her shoulders, and Emma looked up at her. "Thank you," she said. She didn't recognise the woman, but that wasn't very important.

"Every girl has one terrible moment that's not her fault," said the lady with a kind smile. "I hope this was your only one. You got it out of the way early."

"I hope so, too."

She walked back into the dining room. The music was playing again and everyone was talking and laughing again, telling their own stories about their maids. 

"--got pregnant and told everyone it was my husband's--"

"--used one of my horses to run away--"

"--put on my best silk gown and ripped it all down the bodice, then tried to sew it up again--"

It seemed as though nobody had believed a word Hannah had said. A few women laid comforting hands on Emma's shoulder as she walked by, and even a few men stopped her to tell her how terrible it was she'd been put on the spot like that. She was grateful. It meant she was safe, for now.

"Do you want to dance?" asked Andrei, who had reappeared at her side. "Or do you want to go upstairs?"

"I'd love to dance with you," she said, gripping his hand. "If I go upstairs I'll just dwell on this forever, and I think I'd die of embarrassment!"

He put his hand on her waist and they began to dance.

"It was very brave of you."

She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it. I'd rather forget anything ever happened."

"Of course." He changed the subject. "Tell me your favorite things about the city."

Emma smiled, more than happy about the distraction. "The trees," she said, "they're so pretty, lining the streets, next to all these beautiful buildings. When I walk out on a nice day it feels just like a painting..."

He smiled as she talked, and she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. 

She realised that she hadn't danced with anyone else all night, but she didn't mind. Nobody had asked her, anyways, except Andrei, and she liked dancing with him. He made her think about things deeply and differently, and he listened to her. She liked hearing him talk, too, and she liked when he would come over and tell her about his problems, and ask her for solutions.

Yes, she thought, I'm very lucky to have Andrei Liniski as my friend.

I'm not super happy with this chapter-- the flow didn't quite feel right, but oh well. I'll edit it later. for now it keeps the narrative moving along just fine.

Anyways, what did you think? If Hannah done or will she try to shame Emma again? Will Emma ever decide to tell anyone the truth? Let me know in the comments!