It was hours later that Emme and Larissa were seated in the small morning room, idly perusing fashion plates. For herself, Emme had no interest, but Larissa needed clothes. A few of her own gowns had been altered to fit her, and a few that Lady Phyllis had passed along as well, but with Larissa's slight frame, only so much could be accomplished.
"I think this would look lovely on you,” Emme said and pointed to a sketch in one of the magazines. It was a simple day dress, but done in a stunning shade of green that would look lovely with Larissa's vibrant red hair.
"I cannot allow your husband to purchase a wardrobe for me. I've sent a letter to mother and she will send along my things shortly,” Larissa said.
"He wouldn't mind. Rhys is incredibly generous."
Larissa laughed. “Only because he's madly in love with you."
Emme's heart stilled. “Don't be silly, we married because we were caught in a compromising position. It was more about a momentary lapse of propriety than about a love match."
Larissa smiled. “That might have been true at the time but I have seen how he looks at you. He does love you, even if he isn't capable of uttering the words. Some men aren't, you know?"
"Words mean little at any rate,” Emme said, “I prefer to judge a man based on actions and Rhys’ actions have shown him to be a caring and considerate husband, if a bit high-handed at times. We'll leave the question of love to the poets and focus on the more pressing issue of how to deal with an autocratic man."
Larissa sighed, but didn't press the issue, for which Emme was thankful. Turning back to the fashion plates, Emme held up one that she knew Larissa would not be able to resist.
"Perhaps one gown,” Larissa conceded softly, effectively changing the subject.
Emme smiled. “Then it should certainly be this one; it will be so charming on you."
As they were putting the fashion plates away Emme saw movement from the corner of her eye. Glancing up, she saw Melisande in the hallway. She had never seen the child inside the house but only in the gardens before. She glanced at Larissa and while she knew her sister couldn't see the child, she knew that Larissa was aware of her presence. With a dismissive wave of her hand, Larissa indicated that she should go.
Rising, Emme strolled into the hallway and followed Melisande as she made her way toward the south wing.
The child stopped just outside the entrance and peered over her shoulder. “I like your sister, Emme. She's very nice, but so very sad."
Seating herself on the floor, Emme met the strangely direct gaze of the phantom child. “She is very sad. Some people have been very unkind to her."
"If I had lived, you and I would be sisters now. I would be grown. I would have a husband and children but I never would have let Jeremy or Rhys become involved with Elise and then you wouldn't be here. Maybe this is how it was supposed to happen? Do you think?"
It was an alarming train of thought, to look at the sequence of events and recognize how one shift could have altered everything. “I really don't know, Melisande."
Melisande had stopped listening. Her attention became focused on a point behind them, in the distance. When she looked back at Emme her eyes were filled with fear and pain. “He's coming, Emme. You must hide."
Emme glanced behind her. She could hear footsteps, but she didn't question Melisande's judgment. She rushed through the entrance into the south wing, her slippered feet silent on the marble floors. Rhys and the other gentlemen were in the tunnel. Larissa was still in the morning room and too weak to be of assistance at any rate. All the servants were far away. Her heart thundered in her chest, pounding with panic and fear.
She entered a small sitting room. The furniture was shrouded with Holland covers and the mirrors were draped. As she turned, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. The curtains billowed and glass crunched under her feet. One of the panes of glass had been broken out. The lawn beyond was very exposed and if she attempted to flee that way, she would surely be seen.
Searching for a place to hide, she turned back toward the room and noted a large cabinet in the far corner. Crossing to it, she opened the doors and quickly closeted herself inside. The wicker screens of the cabinet doors afforded her a view into the room and she pressed closer.
It was some minutes later that the door to the small sitting room opened and a man entered. Though his back was to her, she recognized him instantly. It was Alistair. He strolled through the room, his movements idle and seemingly unhurried. He paused in front of a small desk and opened the drawer. He rifled through the papers in the desk drawer, chuckling lightly at one or two of them before replacing them. With one final glance about the room, he left.