Emily hummed nervously as she packed her bags. She had looked forward to this day, right from when she was a little girl. And now it was here.
She sighed. This was going to be the most wonderful day of her life and yet her heart ached, too. Daddy was going to be heart-broken - as well as angry. She had tried talking with him … pleading with him, in fact … but nothing had worked, so there was only this one way left.
Emily sighed again. She had put off this moment as long as she could. In her mind she had written and re-written the note a dozen times, but it was finally time to commit the words to paper. Time, at last, to say what had to be said...
She went to her father's study, sat down at the large wooden captain's desk and pulled out a clean sheet of writing paper. The inkbottle and pen were in their proper places, of course - her father was a meticulous man - and she quickly set everything that she needed out onto the desk. After a few seconds of thought, she dipped the pen in the ink, blotted it carefully, and began to write:
"Dearest Daddy,
Please forgive me but by the time you read this letter we shall be married. Bart is a wonderful man and I'm sure that once you get to know him like I do that you'll love him too. He has to take care of some business so we'll be gone for a few days but will be back as soon as we can. I hope that you can forgive us for disobeying you, but I know that we are meant to be together. Please don't be too angry. Love forever,
Emily & Bart"
She signed the letter with care, paused to read it, and then she re-read it again. A tear welled up in her eye. God she hated to do this to him, but he had been so unreasonable about Bart, and she'd tried everything else.
After another long moment or two, she put the writing things away and then walked over to the nearer window, where she pulled the key from its' hiding place. Daddy wasn't going to be happy about this, either...
Emily wondered if she was doing the right thing. Then the girl shook her head (how silly she was), of course she was, it was hers anyway. The money for her dowry that he had been laying aside for this purpose for years … and the jewels would be returned as soon as they were no longer needed.
She smiled. How lucky she was to have a man like Bart in her life!
It took only a minute or so to remove what she needed from the strongbox, double check the amount, and then lock it back up again and re-hide the key. When she lifted the satchel, the effort made her grunt. Boy, she thought, money sure is heavy. Too bad it couldn't be made from something lighter...
The grandfather clock chimed the hour, and she jumped. Eleven o'clock already! Less than an hour now before they were due to be on the ship and in the morning it would sail with them aboard, bound for an exciting new life together. She giggled with joy. This was it!
Emily placed the satchel by the door, and then crept into the other bedroom. This was going to make Daddy unhappiest of all…
She went to the closet where the wedding dress was hanging, pulled it out, and returned to her own bedroom where she removed it from the bag and spread it out on her bed.
It was an exquisitely beautiful thing. Made of pure white silk and studded with pearls, the antique wedding gown was a work of art. It had been, of course, her mother's and was Daddy's most prized possession; only on the most special of occasions had Emily been allowed to take it out of its bag to admire it.
Daddy had promised her … the dress was going to be hers someday. He had told her many stories about her mother, and her favorite ones had been about their wedding. Of how they had been married on the deck of her father's ship on a warm, sunny afternoon, her mother wearing this very gown.
She slipped out of her clothes and, for only the fourth or fifth time in her life, Emily put the wedding dress on. The silk felt smooth and cool against her skin, and she marveled at the fine needlework: thousands of tiny stitches - every one perfect; the gown had taken somebody months of hard work to make.
How long it had it taken Daddy to pay for such a masterpiece? Even on a sea captain's income a long time, she guessed.
The fit was perfect: he had told her many times how much she looked like her mother - and she seemed to be Mother's exact size, too. But that wasn't a great surprise, for Mother had also been eighteen years old when she had worn it to her own wedding.
Emily walked over to the mirror and studied her reflection. The dress looked good on her - very good - and she twirled about, admiring it from every angle.
She started her inventory at the top. With her hair. Long, dark, and thick, she had inherited that from her father. His own hair was still jet black, but the gray was just beginning to creep in along the mutton-chop whiskers that he wore. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to worry about that for awhile...
The high, round forehead - that was also Daddy's. But everything else came from Mother.
The eyes. Emily sighed. Large and dark, they dominated her face and there were many, many times that she had wished that they were smaller, especially when the other children had teased her about them. But, her father had promised, she would 'grow into them' and, eventually, she did. Now they were her most striking and attractive feature. And it helped whenever he reminded her that they were just like her mother's.
Nose, mouth, and chin: those, of course, were all Mother's, too. So much so that she would sometimes catch her father looking at her sadly and realize that he was see his long-dead Martha's face instead of her own. But it was an attractive face, and she was grateful for that: in a time when a girl's looks counted for so much, a pretty face was a blessing, indeed.
Emily's gaze swept downward. The style of the dress was somewhat out of fashion now, the trend moving towards covering up more and more as the last few years had passed. It was on the verge of being out of style, but it still looked good. Even if it did show just a little more than the current fashion dictated. She tugged upward upon the bodice of the dress, then blushed slightly and giggled.
It was time to go.
With some reluctance, she pulled herself away from the mirror and took one last look around the cottage to make sure that she hadn't forgotten anything. The note she placed carefully in the center of the kitchen table - arranged so that Daddy would find it when he came in. By that time, she and Bart would be safely gone.
On her way towards the door, the piano caught her eye, and she took a minute or two to 'visit' with the old machine.
Emily closed her eyes and spread her fingers upon the worn keys. And then she played - a slow, sweet romantic melody. The tones that poured out of the piano were rich and mellow: a gift bestowed by the piano's considerable age and years of expert, costly, care. Her 'best friend' Emily thought, and then she corrected herself. Other than Bart, of course, and Daddy…
She savored the way the delicately balanced keyboard 'talked back' to her fingers. A fine piano felt every bit as good as it sounded, and she loved the feel and the sound of this one.
"So long, old friend," she whispered as she stood up to leave. "I'll be back soon." Then she gently caressed the top of the instrument and carefully pulled the cover down over the keys.
She grunted again as she bent down and lugged the heavy satchel outside. One last glance back inside, and then she carefully closed the door and locked it with her key.