The Emma Harte 7-Book Collection: A Woman of Substance, Hold the Dream, To Be the Best, Emma’s Secret, Unexpected Blessings, Just Rewards, Breaking the Rules. Barbara Taylor BradfordЧитать онлайн книгу.
her mother. Nor did she want Olivia to be reminded either. Olivia thought she was mad, just like their mother had been mad. So did Adam. They were plotting against her. Oh yes, they were. Adam and Olivia. She saw them, whispering in corners of this hideous house.
Her eyes fixed on Emma, who was closing the jewel cases, and she grabbed hold of her arm tightly. Taken by surprise, Emma flinched. But noting the sudden glazed and febrile expression, she did not struggle or attempt to free herself. ‘Yes, Mrs Fairley? What is it?’ she asked gently.
‘You must get away from this place, Emma! Away from this house. Before it’s too late. It’s pernicious,’ Adele whispered.
Emma looked at Adele, baffled by this statement. ‘Per – per – what? I don’t know what that means, Mrs Fairley.’
Adele laughed her shrill laugh, and it sent an icy chill through Emma. ‘It means wicked. Wicked! Wicked! Wicked!’ she shrieked, her voice almost a scream.
‘Hush, hush, Mrs Fairley,’ said Emma as calmly as she could. She was shaking and gooseflesh made prickles up and down her arms. What a queer thing for her ter say, she thought fearfully. But she didn’t have time to think about that now. She had something more important to worry about: Mrs Fairley herself. Emma freed her arm carefully and peered at the clock. Her heart sank. The guests would soon be arriving, and in her present state Mrs Fairley was hardly in a fit condition to go downstairs and join them.
Emma looked around helplessly, considering the best course of action to take, her face white and tense. She wondered if she should run and fetch Mrs Wainright, or perhaps Master Edwin. And then some instinct warned her to avoid involving them. She alone would have to pull Mrs Fairley out of this distracted mood. Emma knelt on the floor and took hold of Adele’s slender, aristocratic hands with her own small scarred ones. They were as cold as death. Emma squeezed them so tightly she thought they would snap in half from the pressure. ‘Mrs Fairley! Mrs Fairley! Listen ter me,’ Emma said urgently, making her voice strong and compelling. ‘Yer must listen ter me. The guests’ll be here any minute. Yer must pull yerself together and go down ter meet ’em. Yer must, for yer own sake!’ she exclaimed fiercely, passionate in her determination to reach Adele.
Adele appeared not to hear. Her opaque eyes regarded Emma blindly. Emma tightened her grasp on Adele’s hands, even though ugly red marks were beginning to appear. She gripped them so strenuously her own fingers hurt. ‘Please, Mrs Fairley! Get a hold of yerself. At once, do yer hear! At once!’ Emma’s voice was now enormously cold, and commanding, and all of her stubborn will rose up in her. It surfaced on her face, stern in its fixity of purpose, as she forced Adele to listen to her. The older woman’s expression remained closed. Emma contemplated slapping her cheek, to rouse her from this stupor. She changed her mind. She did not dare. She was not afraid of the consequences. She simply did not want to mar Adele’s fragile skin.
Finally Adele’s eyes flickered with a hint of life, and her pale lips parted. Emma took a deep breath and gripped her by the shoulders. ‘Yer must go downstairs, Mrs Fairley. Now! Afore it’s too late! Yer the Squire’s wife. The mistress of this house. The Squire’s waiting for yer, Mrs Fairley.’
Emma shook her more forcefully. ‘Look at me, Mrs Fairley. Look at me.’ Emma’s eyes blazed hard green light. ‘Yer must get control of yerself. If yer don’t, there’s bound ter be trouble. There’ll be a right scandal, Mrs Fairley!’
Adele heard her dimly, above the sound of splintering crystal that reverberated in her head. Slowly the shattering and tinkling began to ebb away, and she saw Emma more clearly as her eyes became focused and lost their cloudiness. Now Emma’s voice was penetrating her tired mind. It was strong. ‘I’ll be there, if yer needs me, ma’am. All yer have ter do is signal me during dinner, if yer needs owt. Or ring for me later. I’ll see yer all right. I will! I’ll look after yer, Mrs Fairley. I promise!’ Emma said, her tone cajoling yet firm.
Adele blinked and sat up with an abruptness that was almost violent. What had Emma been saying? That she was the mistress of this house … the Squire’s wife. Yes, that was what she had said. And it was true. Adele passed her hand over her brow and it was a gesture that bespoke her confusion and weariness and despair.
‘Shall I fetch yer a drink of water, Mrs Fairley?’ asked Emma, relieved that a semblance of comprehension, of normality, was returning to Adele’s face.
‘No, thank you, Emma,’ Adele whispered, looking directly at her. ‘I don’t know what happened. My head began to ache again. Yes, that was it, Emma. Another of my dreadful headaches. They are so debilitating, you know.’ She smiled faintly. ‘But it has passed, thank goodness.’
‘Are yer sure, ma’am?’ Emma inquired solicitously, studying her closely.
‘Yes, yes. And I must go downstairs!’ She stood up shakily and moved to the cheval mirror. Emma hurried after her.
‘Now just look at yerself, Mrs Fairley. See how beautiful yer are,’ Emma pointed out, adopting an admiring and reassuring voice, in an effort to bolster Adele’s self-confidence. ‘The Squire will be right proud of yer, ma’am. He will that.’
Oh! My God! Adam! She must go down there and conduct herself with propriety and dignity and grace and charm; otherwise Adam’s wrath would come tumbling about her head, and that she could not survive. She regarded her own image in the glass, and suddenly she saw it objectively, as one views a stranger. That image was of a stunningly beautiful woman. Then she remembered. She was supposed to hide behind the mask of her beauty, so that everyone would be deluded, including Adam.
Her smile wreathed her face with loveliness and her luminous eyes sparkled with silvery lights. She smoothed the skirt of her gown and swung around lightly. ‘I’m ready, Emma,’ she said sweetly.
‘Shall I come with yer, Mrs Fairley?’
‘No, thank you. I can manage on my own,’ Adele answered with absolute sureness. She glided through the adjoining sitting room and out into the corridor, just as the porcelain lions’ clock on the mantelshelf struck the hour.
The dinner had been a tremendous success so far, much to Adam Fairley’s profound relief and satisfaction. He leaned back in his chair at the head of the table, smiling inwardly, and surveyed his guests and the glittering scene that spread out before his eyes.
The atmosphere was relaxed and friendly, almost jovial, and everyone appeared to be at ease. It had been a long time since Adam had heard the murmurous sounds of genial chatter and gaiety reverberating against these old walls, and it filled him with a sense of such gratification he was positively startled. At the beginning of the evening he had been suffering from extreme nervousness. It was not unnatural for Adam to feel apprehensive, in view of Adele’s past performances, and whilst he had been able to conceal his fears, he had been uneasy, all of his senses alerted for trouble. But as the dinner progressed without incident, these feelings were lessening and he had started to unbend. From time to time he would marvel that the malaise of his spirit, which had slowly been diminishing in the last few weeks, had now, this night, miraculously disappeared. It was as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders and he felt unfettered and even carefree.
He lifted the crystal glass of champagne Murgatroyd had just refilled and sipped it slowly, savouring its sparkling iciness. The food had been delicious, the wines excellent, and Murgatroyd and Emma had executed their duties with aplomb, as though they were a seasoned team accustomed to handling such a complicated and elaborate dinner every night of the week. He realized this achievement was no accident. It had been accomplished only with Olivia’s expert planning, and her perfect taste was apparent everywhere.
Adam looked down the long expanse of white linen, until Adele was in his direct line of vision. He had watched her closely all night and her behaviour had astounded him. She was charming and attentive to their guests and, on the surface at least, she seemed like the woman she had been years ago. And she looked magnificent. She was