The Princess and the Peer(46)
“Arie! What if someone hears you? You know how the teachers feel about such radical ideas, not to mention the use of rough language.”
“No one comes up here to hear. But even if they did, I wouldn’t care.” Ariadne grinned, displaying her white teeth. “As for language, I could teach you words that would turn your ears blue.”
“Yes, I know, and you oughtn’t sneak down to the kitchens at night and talk to the servants.”
“They’re a great deal more interesting than staying up late drinking hot milk and tying my hair up in curling rags.”
“I only do that for Sunday services,” Mercedes defended. “But that is beside the point. I’m worried about Emma. What if something untoward happens to her? I mean, who could she possibly know in that part of England well enough to trust?”
Ariadne paused to consider. “One of the teachers maybe. Didn’t Miss Poole move there? Anyway, I wouldn’t be concerned. If you read further, Emma says that she has taken up residence with a respectable personage.”
“Hmm, so I see,” she said, noticing the sentence in the letter. “Still, if this person is so respectable, then why the mystery? Why not simply tell us where she has gone? And who this individual is, for that matter?”
“Obviously she doesn’t want that old witch Weissmuller dragging her back to the estate.”
“True. But Emma has to know we wouldn’t say anything, not when she’s asked us to keep her confidence.”
Ariadne paused, clearly mulling over her questions. “Well,” she said, drawing out the word, “mayhap the person aiding her would rather not reveal themselves. Maybe they fear being the recipient of royal retribution.”
Mercedes decided not to comment, reluctant to incite a fresh round of Prince Rupert bashing.
“Then again,” Ariadne went on, “my guess is that Emma is just being cautious. You know how she can be, particularly when she feels she is protecting someone—in this case the person helping her and us, her friends. If we don’t know where she is, no one can try to pry the information out of us.”
Mercedes lifted her chin. “As if they could. I do not tattle on those I love.”
“Nor I,” Ariadne agreed resolutely, the two of them suddenly in complete accord. “Now, let us worry no more for the moment. Emma will be in touch again when she can and you will see that all is well.”
Mercedes nodded, trying to let herself be convinced. Even so, a niggling fist of unease remained, not so much for Emma’s safety now but instead for her future.
“Here we are, apple fritters hot and fresh from the seller,” Nick said as he and Emma stood amid the milling crowd of revelers gathered for the autumn country fair. It was the same one she remembered him first mentioning that night at the theater nearly two weeks earlier—another promised outing that she could now add to her list of adventures enjoyed.
Emma waited with patient anticipation for him to hand her one of the paper-wrapped treats, oil already beginning to stain the parchment’s heavy brown surface. Making no effort to disguise her eagerness, she balanced the confection carefully inside her gloved palms, then took a small, careful bite.
The golden fried dough with its steaming ooze of cinnamon-spiced apples melted in her mouth, nearly burning her tongue. But she didn’t mind, the pastry a perfect accompaniment, not only for the venue, but for the day itself.
The early October afternoon was crisp and cool, the sky a pure, bird’s-egg blue that was punctuated by an occasional lazy cloud drifting past. Like girls dressed in their best finery, the oaks, beeches, and maples sported a riot of color, their leaves ranging from palest gold to vibrant, fiery red.
In the midst of all this natural glory had risen a makeshift village of sorts, farmers and entertainers, merchants and mongers come to hawk their wares and display their talents and trades. People of every class and temperament were assembled, ready to fill their bellies and imaginations and empty their purses of any coin that could be spared.
Doing her best not to gawk in what would be a most inelegant and unprincesslike way, Emma had spent the past two hours taking it all in. As she and Nick roamed from stand to stand, they paused at one to watch a juggler toss painted wooden pins in the air and at another to listen to a comic tell jokes that left the audience roaring with laughter and wiping away tears.
All the while, Nick had grinned down at her, clearly enjoying her delight as she exclaimed over one marvel after another. When she’d grown hungry, Nick had led her to the food stalls, where he’d bought meat pies and slices of roasted potatoes for them both.