An Agent for Emily Page 6

  “Is it, miss? How’s that?”

  Emily leaned forward and spoke confidingly. “I believe he was drunk when he got off the train this morning.”

  “He was?” Bessie looked shocked, but only for a moment. “Surely he doesn’t drink all the time, miss. That must have been an exception.”

  “I would like to think so, but I’m afraid it’s not. His father is concerned for his very life—not only his livelihood, but his health. What if he’s drinking himself into an early grave?” Emily gave a shudder. “And he just can’t seem to stop himself from flirting. Why, the way he greeted Mrs. Astor when we arrived . . . He doesn’t know how to behave in proper society.”

  “Those are the sort that are the most fun, aren’t they, miss?”

  “They might be fun, as you say, but they aren’t respectable.” Emily shook her head. “We’ll do our best by him, but I worry that we won’t be able to change the course of his life either. And then where will he be? In the hospital, in jail . . .”

  “Is it really as bad as all that?” Bessie’s eyes grew wide again.

  “It could be. I suppose we’ll just have to see how the hands of fate deal with him.” Emily sighed. “Well, it’s time to get ready for the picnic. Would you please help me change?”

  “Of course, miss,” Bessie said, moving around behind Emily and busying herself with the buttons. Emily smiled. If Bessie talked about her the way she talked about all the other guests, no doubt the sad tale of Mr. Todd Gray would circulate through the whole house by dinner, establishing the reputation he was trying to create. If he wanted to be known as a reprobate and a ne’er-do-well, she could certainly give him a boost.

  Once Emily had changed, she sent the girl off to help someone else, and she turned her attention to the mirror. Anna had chosen well—her picnic dress set off her complexion admirably, and she wasn’t at all ashamed to think that she was certain to turn a few heads. She was eager to start getting herself in the good graces of those at the party, and being pretty was a definite plus. The people she most wanted to meet, though, were the Percevals, who wouldn’t be there until that night. Why was Mr. Astor so perturbed that they were coming late? There must be something to it.

  Chapter Seven

  Satisfied that she was ready for the picnic, Emily left her room, parasol in hand, and tugged the door closed behind her. She was just in time to meet up with Todd and Jeremy, who had also just left their room and were ready to descend.

  “You look a treat, my dear,” Jeremy said, taking her hand and giving her a small bow.

  “Thank you. My new maid did an excellent job helping me.” She looked at Todd, who had dressed himself impeccably except for a foppish curl in the middle of his forehead. “You look as though you could use a maid yourself, cousin.”

  “Oh, come now. One can’t be perfect all the time, and if one were, it would be a bore.”

  He spoke languidly, and Emily noticed that other guests were leaving their rooms and coming down the hallway toward them. “Boring or not, I would think that you’d have the decency to stand up straight.”

  He flashed her a grin. “All right, Mother dear. I’ll do my best not to embarrass you in front of your friends.”

  “I appreciate it. Now, let’s head down.”

  Emily let go of Jeremy’s hand in favor of the bannister. If she were to go end over end, she felt more secure about it than she did him. When they reached the main floor, she reluctantly tucked her arm through his, giving him a little smile. She didn’t know if it was possible to feel more awkward than she did.

  Mrs. Astor bustled into the foyer from what Emily presumed was the drawing room. “Excellent! I see that you’re all here. What a marvelous-looking group you are. We’ve arranged for several carriages to take us out to the lake on our property, where the cook has set up a lovely lunch. Please, follow me out and we’ll get you settled.”

  Jeremy glanced around. “I still don’t see Astor anywhere,” he commented. “I wanted to introduce you.”

  “My maid tells me he’s been a little out of sorts today,” Emily replied in a low tone. “Something about the Percevals being late.”

  “Who are the Percevals?”

  Emily gave him an astonished look as they made their way outside behind the throng. “You don’t know Mr. Perceval? Bessie said he was a business partner of Astor’s. I thought that meant he’d be a partner of yours as well.”

  “No, I’ve never met the man.”

  A footman directed them to a carriage, and they alighted. It was just the three of them, and once seated, Jeremy turned to Emily. “A business partner, you say.” He seemed a bit agitated at the idea. “It’s strange to me that Astor never mentioned having other interests besides ours. It would naturally come up in conversation, wouldn’t it?”

  “I’d think so,” Todd replied. “He’d want to be sure to avoid conflict of interest, so he’d make sure you and Perceval knew about each other so there wouldn’t be any question.”

  “But surely if he was hiding them from each other, he wouldn’t have invited them to the same house party,” Emily said. “That just doesn’t make sense at all.”

  “Very true. There must be an explanation for it.”

  “Bessie said the Percevals have only been in town six months. Perhaps there just hasn’t been time until now for you to meet.”

  “But I see Astor in the office a few times a week, and he could have mentioned it any of those times.” Jeremy pressed his lips together and stared out the window, then sighed. “He might not have stolen the money, but he’s definitely not being entirely honest, and I’ll be glad to get to the bottom of it. Dishonesty is something I simply cannot abide in anyone.”

  After a few minutes, the tension in Jeremy’s shoulders seemed to relax, and Emily was glad that he was letting go of his frustration. It would be difficult to enjoy the weekend if he was angry.

  The carriages followed a winding path through the property, and Emily couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. So much land, so many rolling hills of green grass . . . and all this belonged to the Astors. “If they’re rich enough for all this, why would he need to steal?” she asked.

  “This represents money made and spent in the past,” Todd replied. “It’s quite different from money to spend in the present. It would be quite easy for the Astors to be penniless and yet still live on this grand estate.”

  Emily nodded. That made sense. “I must confess, I’m coveting just a little bit. I’ve never seen such a beautiful property.”

  “Your home is certainly lovely,” Todd said.

  “Oh, it is, but we don’t have much land. This is something to dream about.” She waved her hand, indicating their entire surroundings. “And look—there are ducks on the pond.”

  The carriages pulled up to a cobblestone terrace overlooking the water. Several tables and chairs had been set up, along with a white tent for shade. “This is the fanciest picnic I’ve ever been to,” Todd commented as he alighted.

  “Me too.” Emily accepted his hand as she climbed out. “I pictured us all sitting on the grass. This is much more pleasant.”

  “And easier than getting off the ground after we’ve been sitting for a while.” Todd smirked, then turned to Jeremy, who had yet to get out of the carriage. “Are you all right?”

  Jeremy blinked. “Oh, I’m fine. I was just thinking.” He joined them next to the carriage and held out his arm for Emily. “I’m rather eager to meet this Mr. Perceval and figure out what’s going on.”

  “Agreed,” Emily replied.

  They crossed the short distance from their carriage to the tables, where they saw that their names had been beautifully written on place cards that dotted the décor. Jeremy and Emily were seated together, while Todd had been placed between two ladies. Emily wondered how Harmonia had managed to get a card made up for Todd so quickly, as though he’d been part of the guest list from the very beginning.

  “Oh, Miss Gray, I can’t tell you how much I ad
mire you.”

  Emily turned to see a young woman near her elbow, her face aglow. “Hello. Have we met?”

  “No, but I’m seated across from you at lunch. My name is Priscilla Duncan, and I’m here with my mother and father.” She nodded toward a couple who looked to be in their late forties. “Miss Gray, I always look for mentions of you in the society column. Your clothes, your hair, your artistic disdain for the world—I wish I could be just like you.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you don’t want to be just like me,” Emily replied. “I’m sure there are many other choices who would be better for you. Ladies who aren’t as selfish, for instance. Who spend time doing charity work instead of rearranging their hair.”

  Priscilla laughed. “You’re much too hard on yourself, I’m sure. No, I’m determined—you’re my role model. Teach me how to be as elegant as you are, how to look so regal and above everything going on around you.”

  Emily had no idea how to respond to that. She’d always been careful to look polished and refined, and yes, at times she did feel as though she was a step above whatever silly shenanigans might be going on around her, but to hear it put this way by someone who claimed to admire her—it caught her off guard. “Perhaps we could talk about it later,” she suggested. “It looks like our hostess would like us to be seated.”

  Everyone took their places, and within moments, plates of delicious delights were being passed from one end of the table to the other by servants who looked as though they’d been hard at work all day preparing for this one meal. Emily wondered how hard it had been to drag everything out to the middle of the property rather than serving it at the house, once again surprised at herself for even thinking about it when she ordinarily would have accepted it as a matter of course.

  “You see, my dear Mrs. Cunningham, my fondest wish is to be on the stage,” Todd was saying. “I thrill to the words of Shakespeare as they trip off my tongue—he knew how to write a romantic hero. However, the profession of an actor is hardly one to be admired, and so I must find more suitable ways to spend my hours. It’s a shame, most assuredly.”

  “A Shakespearean actor, you say?” Mrs. Cunningham looked at him curiously. “Do recite something, would you?”

  “Oh, come now,” Mr. Cunningham interjected. “You wouldn’t want to put the poor boy on the spot, my dear.”

  “The spot is what I live for,” Todd replied. He turned to Mrs. Cunningham and proceeded to recite Benedick’s speech to Beatrice when he professes his love, and Mrs. Cunningham promptly and without any hesitation fell under his spell. Emily had to confess that she herself was rather impressed. Todd had all the nuances of the language, the sultry tones and the jovial, and she could imagine him on that stage or even as the real character in a garden, wooing his lady fair.

  “Well done! Well done!” Mrs. Donovan clapped wildly, which irritated the little dog on her lap, and he began to bark. “Shush, Hermie!” she scolded, tapping him on the nose with her forefinger.

  Jeremy passed Emily a plate of sliced ham, and she blinked, pulling herself back to the moment. She’d been assessing each of the guests and wondering why they’d been included in this particular party. So far, she’d learned that two of them were business partners and that others were family. Why were the rest here? Had Mr. Astor just chosen a group of persons randomly? She didn’t think that was likely, though. She knew from planning dinner parties that you chose your guests carefully, those who were the most likely to have something in common and not annoy each other, so what was the common thread in this group?

  With her plate loaded, Emily was able to nibble while she listened, and she found it very entertaining to catch snippets of conversation from both sides. Mrs. Rawley’s joints had been remarkably stiff since the winter, and she might be dead before the year was out. She said this as though she liked the idea. Mrs. Donovan was curious about the new fashions coming from Europe for the next season, and Mrs. Duncan was largely concerned about Priscilla’s table manners and her seeming inability to hold a fork to her mama’s liking.

  Hmm. Whatever had brought this group together was probably to be found by listening to the men, but Emily couldn’t overhear much of their conversation from where she sat. She’d need to mingle.

  “My dear Miss Gray, I wonder if you’d be a dear and show my daughter a trick or two,” Mrs. Duncan said, leaning toward her. “I find myself despairing.”

  Emily blinked. Oh, my. It was one thing to chastise the poor girl in private, but to call attention to her at a social gathering . . . It was so low brow, so uncouth, that Emily didn’t know how to respond. At seeing tears gathering in Priscilla’s eyes, however, she knew she had to do something.

  “Of course, Mrs. Duncan,” she said smoothly. She turned to Priscilla. “I’ll tell you the secret, Miss Duncan, but only if you promise not to share it with a single soul.” She could all but feel the eyes of everyone at the table on her as she spoke. Priscilla’s reputation would be either made or broken in that moment, and Emily felt the weight of that responsibility keenly. “The secret is to get the food from your plate into your mouth without dropping it on your dress. If you can manage that, nothing else matters.” Emily picked up her knife, speared a piece of ham on the tip, and popped it into her mouth, breaking every rule of conventional etiquette ever written.

  “Well done!” Mrs. Donovan exclaimed, clapping again, and the conversation continued on. No one paid Priscilla another moment of attention, and Mrs. Duncan looked ashamed. As she should, in Emily’s opinion.

  For the remainder of the meal, Emily ate with her knife as much as possible, entertaining herself with just how many rules she could break without making a mess. She knew Priscilla was watching her, and a few times, she heard the girl giggle. There now—that was better. Emily could afford to be the laughingstock at a gathering like this—she had already endured her share of ridicule that year, and she was older and could weather it better. Priscilla didn’t need to start out her season on such rocky footing, and at the hands of her mother, no less.

  “Mr. Tobler, we were all so glad to hear of your recent engagement to Miss Gray,” Mrs. Astor said from her end of the table. “Would you be so kind as to share the details with us?”

  “Engagement?” Emily murmured under her breath. “I thought we were still courting.”

  “Just go along with it,” he replied, then came to his feet. “Of course, Mrs. Astor. Miss Gray and I first became acquainted last summer and enjoyed each other’s company quite a bit, but there were some bumps along our road to happiness, and we decided it would be best to discontinue our courtship.” He paused, chuckling. “All right, I admit, I made that decision, and it was the worst decision I’ve ever made in my life.” The guests joined him in laughter. “Once I came to my senses, I realized I would never be happy without Miss Gray by my side. She agreed to meet with me, and even more remarkably, she forgave me and agreed to be my wife.”

  “Oh, that’s just lovely,” Mrs. Donovan said. “What did he say, Miss Gray? Did he grovel?”

  “To be sure,” Emily replied. “I wouldn’t have taken him back any other way.”

  The ladies all tittered. “Well, good for you,” Mrs. Rawley said. “A man should grovel. It’s good for them. Keeps them from becoming too high and mighty.”

  “He should only grovel as long as necessary,” Emily replied. “A constant state of groveling wouldn’t be much fun—we ladies might get used to it and find it boring.”

  “And boredom is death,” Todd added.

  Thankfully, that short recitation of the facts seemed to quench everyone’s curiosity, and the meal resumed with no further interruptions.

  Once the meal was over, the guests took a stroll along the banks of the pond, even though the wind had picked up a little bit and the day wasn’t as perfect as it had been. Todd asked Priscilla to accompany him, and they did look rather nice together. Priscilla could do better than the character of Mr. Todd Gray, but Emily knew that Agent Todd Wilcox would take good care
of her.

  “I’ve never been so infuriated in my life,” Emily murmured to Jeremy as they followed along the path. She hoped her bonnet would stay on her head—it kept catching the breeze and tugging to the side. “Putting her daughter in that position—just who does Mrs. Duncan think she is? Is she trying to ruin Priscilla’s chances?”

  Jeremy chuckled. “I’ve never seen you so riled up on someone else’s behalf. It’s a nice change, Emily.”

  “Well, don’t be thinking that I’ve somehow transformed into a generous, thoughtful woman. I just couldn’t bear to see the girl be treated that way, and I wanted to knock her mother down a peg. That’s hardly kind of me, is it?”

  “Whether or not it was kind, it was amusing to watch.” Jeremy patted her hand where it lay on his arm.

  “Oh!”

  Emily turned at the exclamation and saw a parasol bouncing across the grass, carried by a particularly strong gust of wind that had just come up. Jeremy let go of Emily and went chasing after it, stooping time and time again to catch it only to have it snatched out of his grip. A glance around told Emily that Mrs. Cunningham was the owner of the unfortunate parasol—she looked equally amused and horrified at watching Jeremy scamper all over the lawn in pursuit.

  The wind seemed determined not to lose this game, and with another gust, it picked up the parasol and flung it into the pond. Jeremy went tumbling after it, coming up spluttering water and with a lily pad on his head.

  “I thought the water would be much shallower,” he said, flailing about.

  “Well, cousin to be, you were wrong,” Todd replied with a laugh, crouching down on the bank and offering a hand.

  He managed to get Jeremy up onto the grass, but the parasol continued to bounce across the surface of the water, going out farther and farther.

  “I’m afraid it’s done for,” Mrs. Astor said, watching its progress.

  “That’s quite all right. It was hardly important. I just feel sorry for Mr. Tobler. What a gallant effort,” Mrs. Cunningham replied.