All the usual disclaimers!
"How are you feeling?" Mr Brown asked Emma Jane as she came down for dinner the following evening. Having spent most of the day in bed, Thomas had coaxed her to come down and join them, primarily because he wanted to introduce her to Clara Bowman. Victoria was happily napping in one of the spare rooms.
She had agreed, on the proviso that he was not to tell her parents about the fact she was pregnant. Lying in bed, her hand resting on her stomach, she had thought about it all day, about how unfair it all was. She and Hank had tried for eight years before Victoria had come along, and when there had been no other children since, Emma Jane had resigned herself to the fact that her daughter would most likely be an only one. Hank hadn't seemed to mind, and she had promised herself that she would lavish all the love and attention in the world on her child. Now, to be expecting again, having lain with two men separated only by a few hours…the thought made her feel sick.
She hoped it was Hank, hoped and prayed fervently that it was his. That it was a child born out of love, not out of a violent act over which she had had no control. But she also knew there was no way to tell, no way in the world to be able to find out whether it was Hank's child or not. When Thomas had pointed out that Hank would come to New York in an instance if he knew his wife was pregnant, Emma Jane hadn't agreed. He wasn't a stupid man, and would most likely be able to work out for himself that there was some doubt over the child's parentage. He would be more likely to break off all contact and never think about her ever again.
But it was lies that had got her into this mess in the first place. If she hadn't lied about what had happened to her, she would most likely still be in Colorado Springs, still with Hank, and somehow everything would be better. She couldn't tell an outright lie, but it was unlikely that at any time in the near future Hank would happen to ask her if she was expecting. Perhaps if she just…didn't say anything, it would be all right?
"I'm fine," Emma Jane replied, coming into the drawing room, "I'm feeling much better."
"Emma Jane," Thomas stood up, "this is Clara Bowman." He introduced the young woman at his side, "Clara, my sister Emma Jane."
"Pleased to meet you," Emma Jane extended her hand.
"And you," Clara replied, "Your poor face!" she grimaced in sympathy, "Thomas told me what happened. I'm so sorry."
"Thank you," Emma Jane replied, not asking what Clara really thought about her spending her days working in a bar.
"Yes, well," Mrs Brown harrumphed in the corner, "Perhaps now Emma Jane has decided to grace us with her presence, we can sit down to dinner. Clara my dear," she linked her arm through their guest's, "You must tell me all about your trip to Europe next year…" then the two of them disappeared into the dining room.
"Chin up Ems," Thomas teased her lightly, taking her arm, "Clara thinks you're very brave to have done what you did. And don't mind Mother."
"I know," she replied, allowing her brother to lead her into the dining room. She sat at the table on a side by herself, facing Thomas and Clara, with her mother and father at either end. The space beside her seemed to gape ominously.
"Well, we sail in June," Clara was saying as the first course was served, "We should arrive in Southampton in a week I believe. Mother has friends in London who are very kindly planning on letting us stay with them for a while."
"And then?" Mrs Brown asked.
"Then we plan to tour England and spend some time in Scotland before heading to Paris," Clara's eyes gleamed, "I can't wait to see all the fashions over there. It's going to be a wonderful trip."
"Sounds lovely," Mr Brown agreed, "Don't you think, Emma Jane?"
"Sorry?" she looked up quickly from her soup, "Yes, yes it does."
Mrs Brown cast her daughter a look of annoyance, "And might we have some good news upon your return?" she looked meaningfully at her son.
"Mother…" Thomas protested, blushing.
"I'll be back in time for the summer ball at the Hyatt's," Clara said quickly to cover the moment, "I do hope you'll be attending, Emma Jane."
"Oh I very much doubt that," Mrs Brown spoke up before Emma Jane had a chance to reply, "Emma Jane does so love to go against what is expected. No doubt she will have some other plan up her sleeve for then. Dancing at some bordello I shouldn't wonder."
"Mother!" Thomas's tone was sharp.
"Amanda…"Mr Brown replied warningly.
"What?" Mrs Brown looked up innocently, "It's true, isn't it. Is that not your plan, Emma Jane?"
Emma Jane wanted to say that no it wasn't, seeing as she would be most likely nursing a newborn and clearly not up for dancing anywhere. Instead however, she merely looked coolly at her mother, "You overestimate me, Mother. I was actually planning a rather quiet summer for Victoria and myself."
"I see," Mrs Brown put her spoon down deliberately, "Well, we shall await your plans with great anticipation." Helen arrived to clear away the dishes and shot a sympathetic smile in Emma Jane's direction.
The rest of the meal progressed in equally the same way. Mrs Brown made every effort to show her daughter up and create the impression that Clara Bowman was more of a woman than Emma Jane Brown could ever be. Emma Jane sat as silently as possible, only adding to the conversation when it was safe to do so. After the meal was over, the party retired to the drawing room, but Emma Jane made her excuses and hurried back upstairs to her room.
Once inside, she closed the door and leaned against it briefly, trying to catch her breath from the exertion of having a meal with her mother. She was amazed she had managed to get through it without throwing her plate of soup all over the old busybody, something which Hank would have soundly encouraged. Thinking of him again, she put her hand back on her stomach and thought about her child growing inside. Her mother would have a field day when she discovered Emma Jane was expecting again. Alone in the city, without a husband, and now pregnant! The gossips would revel in the news.
She looked around her bedroom, which had changed very little from the day ten years ago when she had slipped out and run away. The curtains were the same, the sheets and covers on the bed, the furniture and ornaments that adorned the place. Even her teddy bear was still the same. But when she looked at them, she felt no fondness, so sense of loss. That's when she knew that she had made the right decision all along.
She hurried along to the room where Victoria was sleeping and gently lifted her out of the bed. Then she lifted her coat and made her way back downstairs where she could hear the laughter of the family.
She paused in the doorway of the drawing room, "Father?"
Mr Brown looked up, "Emma Jane?" he stood up and came over to her, "Are you leaving?"
She nodded, "I should be getting back to the boarding house. I'm sure when I didn't return last night, the others would be worried about me."
"Huh!" she heard her mother say, "From what I've heard, it's nothing more than a barn. You wouldn't keep animals in it."
"That's quite enough, Amanda," Mr Brown rebuked his wife, "If you want to go back, Emma Jane, you can. But you're more than welcome to stay here."
"Thank you Father, but no. I feel I've already far outstayed my welcome." She glanced at her mother who looked away, "It was nice to meet you, Clara," she said.
"And you," Clara replied, "I do hope we meet again soon."
"Take the carriage," her father said.
"Thank you, I will," Emma Jane kissed her quickly, "Good night Father. Good night Thomas." With that, she turned and left by the front door, pausing only to wait for the carriage to come around to the front. Then, she climbed in and sat back as it carried her away from the laughter and togetherness of a family brought closer by the prospect of marriage, back to the boarding house, where there was the prospect of nothing.
SSSS
"How are you?" Emma Jane asked, sticking her head around the door of Carolyn's room. The other girl was lying in bed, having collapsed at dinner, or so a rather shaken Mrs Kimble had told her.
"Not so good," Carolyn attempted a weak laugh, "This disease is going to be the death of me, you know."
Emma Jane came all the way inside and moved closer to the bed, "Mrs Kimble told me what happened. She said you just…keeled over."
"Yeah," Carolyn replied, "I guess it's something I'm going to have to get used to." She squinted at Emma Jane, "What happened to your face?"
Emma Jane smiled wryly, "Let's just say you were right about the Black Bull."
"Oh no, what happened?"
" A game of poker got out of hand, chairs and tables went flying all over the room, and someone thought I needed a good smack on the head," she sat down in the chair beside the bed, "It's fine, though. I'm going to be all right. Once the bruise is gone…"
"But you're out of a job."
"I suppose I am," Emma Jane sighed.
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't quite know."
"You'll find something."
"I wish I shared your confidence," Emma Jane smiled.
Carolyn smiled back, "Something's got to keep me going." She shifted uncomfortably in the bed.
"Can I get you anything?" Emma Jane asked.
"No. I can't keep anything down, not even Ma's cooking." They looked at each other and laughed, both knowing it wasn't exactly gourmet, "Did you stay with your parents last night?"
"Yes, I ended up there for some reason. Not that I was made very welcome, by my mother at any rate."
"You should try and make up with her," Carolyn said seriously.
"I wish I could," Emma Jane replied, "but she won't ever entertain the fact that I made my own decisions and I'm happy with them. She's obsessed by the fact that I let her down in society. My brother has a girl, and I'm convinced Mother's going to substitute her for me given time."
"You really must make up with her, Emma Jane, while you still have the chance," Carolyn's voice was quiet, "I wish I had that chance."
"Couldn't you…I don't know…write to your parents in Boston? I'm sure if they knew what was happening to you, they would want to see you."
"Do you think your mother would if this were happening to you?"
Emma Jane paused, "I don't know. I'd like to think that if I was…dying…she would want to make peace with me, but…"
"You're lucky that you have her so close. Don't stop trying," Carolyn urged her, "Your daughter deserves a grandmother too."
"She wasn't thrilled at me having one, goodness only knows what she'll say about my having another."
Carolyn's eyes widened, "You're pregnant?" Emma Jane nodded, "Well, well. You kept that one quiet."
"I only found out last night, but I had suspected for a few weeks," she replied truthfully. "I'm not sure how I feel about it to be honest."
"Well, it'll bring you and Hank back together, won't it?"
Emma Jane sighed, "If only it was that simple." Then she found herself telling Carolyn the whole story, a woman she had hated so much for so long. She told her it all, from the attack, to Martha, to the trial, to Hank discovering the truth, to Jessica, to her departure. When she finished, she was shocked to realise she'd been talking for nearly an hour.
"I'm sorry," Carolyn replied, "It must have been a terrible time for you. But I reckon that Hank's reaction just serves to show how much he loves you."
"How? By spending the night with Jessica?" Emma Jane echoed in disbelief.
"You forget I knew Hank for a good few years before you did," Carolyn reminded her, "He's not very good at showing his feelings. He reacts with anger and violence because he doesn't know how else to react. I reckon you've changed him a bit over the last few years, but when you were hurt, the person he loves the most, he couldn't deal with it."
"You're right," Emma Jane admitted, "I made things worse by keeping it a secret from him. I should have been honest from the start." She smiled, "You're not the only one who's told me this, you know. Our lady doctor said the same."
"Lady doctor?"
Emma Jane nodded, "Doctor Michaela Quinn from Boston. She's been in town for…oh…must be almost nine months by now. It's caused quite a stir…what? Do you know her?"
Carolyn nodded, "Or rather, I know her father. He's a friend of my father. They used to meet regularly."
"Well, he passed away apparently. That's why she went to Colorado Springs. She's nice," Emma Jane added, "if a little sure that she's always right."
"Well, us Boston girls are known to be the smartest," Carolyn joked, "If I'd been there, we would both have ganged up on you and forced you to tell."
Emma Jane smiled, "I imagine you would." She stood up, "I'll let you get some rest. Peter must be thinking I've run off and left him with Victoria. I'll come by and see you later."
"Thank you," Carolyn said, closing her eyes sleepily, "and Emma Jane?"
"Yes?"
"Remember what I said."
Emma Jane nodded and then left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
SSSS
"Clara's had the most marvellous idea!" Thomas exclaimed when the three of them met for afternoon tea a few days later in a nice part of the city, "Tell her darling, go on!"
Clara turned to Emma Jane, her face shining with the idea, "Well, I was talking to Mrs Bentley, she's the woman who makes my dresses for me, and she was saying about how she's finding it difficult to keep up with all her customers now that she's getting older. So I said, maybe she should think about taking on an assistant, and she said she would, only she hadn't a clue who to ask, and then it came to me!" She sat back triumphantly.
"What did?" Emma Jane asked.
"You!" Clara exclaimed.
"Me?"
"Of course! You can sew, can't you? Thomas tells me you make all your clothes for yourself and Victoria. You'd be absolutely perfect for the job! So I told Mrs Bentley all about you and she asked if you would go to her house this evening to meet her so she could discuss it with you!"
"I…" Emma Jane was stunned, "I don't know what to say. Thank you."
"You're welcome," Clara said happily, "This is going to work out perfectly, I can feel it." She squeezed Thomas's hand.
"I've never made clothes for other people though," Emma Jane said, "only for myself and Victoria as you said. I'm not sure that I would be good enough to do it professionally."
"Nonsense," Thomas said, "Mrs Bentley's a lovely woman. No doubt she'll teach you all the tricks of her trade and have you up to speed in no time."
"And, she's got some very prestigious clients," Clara chipped in.
"Most of the prestigious people in this city seem to know who I am and don't think very much of my lifestyle," Emma Jane said, "I doubt they would want me making their clothes."
"Come on Emma," Thomas teased, "You know it would tickle them pink to actually be able to boss you around and have you skivvy for them." Clara frowned at him, "What? I'm only joking."
"Don't be so mean," Clara said, "I think it's a great idea. Why, if I wasn't going to London, I would have the pair of you make my wedding dress!"
"Hold on a minute!" Emma Jane held up her hands, "Wedding dress?"
"Well, it's not quite official yet," Clara admitted, "but it's quite obvious, don't you think?" She gazed lovingly at Thomas, "I can't wait to be part of the Brown family."
"Well, feel free to take my recently vacated place," Emma Jane remarked.
"Emma Jane, that's not fair," Thomas said, "you are still part of our family. Mother's just being Mother, you know that."
"Yes Thomas I do. But…someone said something to me that made a great deal of sense. What if something were to happen to me, or Mother, and we had never made our peace? Look what happened with Lydia and I?" She sighed, "I've tried and tried and I don't know what else I can do to get Mother to at least speak to me without resorting to cheap remarks about my life. I don't regret marrying Hank, I don't regret living in Colorado Springs and I certainly don't regret having my daughter!"
"Or your expectant one?" Clara asked coyly.
Emma Jane looked quickly at Thomas, "I'm sorry!" he said, "It just slipped out."
"Promise me you won't tell anyone else, especially not Mother," Emma Jane begged them, "at least not until I've worked out what I'm going to do."
"Won't your husband want to come to the city to be with you?" Clara asked.
"That, Clara," Emma Jane replied, "is the eternal question."
SSSS
At seven-thirty exactly that evening, Emma Jane rang the doorbell of a smart house not far from her parents and stood waiting at the door. Clara had told her Mrs Bentley was a stickler for punctuality, so she had left the boarding house excessively early and spent the previous half hour wandering the streets to kill time.
The door opened and a plump faced woman appeared, "Yes?"
"Mrs Bentley? I'm Emma Jane Brown? Clara Bowman…"
"Oh yes, yes, come in, come in," the woman stepped back, "Mind the cat, will you?" Emma Jane stepped over a large tabby lying across the doorway, "Do come through." She led Emma Jane into what she supposed was a drawing room, but was filled with rolls of material and dresses on every surface, "Excuse the mess, but I have to finish a dress before Sunday for Mrs Hyatt."
"Hyatt?" Emma Jane echoed. She was sure she had heard that name before.
"Yes, you know the Hyatt's surely, my dear? They host the summer ball every year."
"Oh yes, of course."
"Mrs Hyatt's a lovely woman," Mrs Bentley said, "so personable. So," she looked over Emma Jane critically, "What sort of experience do you have?"
"Well…none really," Emma Jane replied, "I mean, not professionally. But I make most of my own clothes and clothes for my daughter."
"Really? You're Amanda Brown's daughter, aren't you?"
"Yes," Emma Jane sighed, "yes I am."
"It wasn't a criticism, dear," Mrs Bentley assured her, "I was just checking I had the right woman. It isn't every day you find a woman from the upper classes who knows how to sew."
"Well, I have spent the past ten years living in a saloon," Emma Jane said boldly.
"Really?" Mrs Bentley didn't look in the slightest perturbed, "then you have seen the world, haven't you? All I'm interested in, dear, is your ability to make a dress."
"Like I said, I've never done it professionally, but I'm willing to try."
"Might be best if you don't accompany me out to houses for another few days, just until that eye's gone down."
Emma Jane touched her face self-consciously, but decided to offer no explanation, "That's fine with me."
"Splendid!" Mrs Bentley clapped her hands, "Well, you can start tomorrow then. It's a busy time of year and there's plenty you can do."
"There's…just one other thing," Emma Jane ventured.
"What's that, dear?"
"Well, I'm…" she fought for the right words, "I'm expecting a baby."
"I see. When?"
"Sometime in the summer," she replied. "Is that a problem?"
"No, no, not at the beginning," Mrs Bentley replied, "Towards your time, of course, things may be different."
"I understand."
"Well then. I shall see you tomorrow Miss Brown. Or would you rather be referred to by your married name?"
Emma Jane paused, "I am married, Mrs Bentley, I have a child and am with child again. It might only be fitting…"
"That's quite all right, my dear. Although, I'm sure you won't mind me calling you Emma Jane, will you?"
"No," Emma Jane replied, "I don't mind at all."
SSSS
On her way back to the boarding house, Emma Jane felt something in her pocket and pulling it out, realised it was the letter she had written to Hank the previous evening and had forgotten to mail. She gazed down at the address on the envelope, running her fingers lightly over his name. She had started to write it many times, unsure as to how to phrase it. "I'm expecting a child?" "I've discovered I'm pregnant?" "I'm having your child?" "I don't know if I'm having your child?" She had found it so hard to pick the right words.
Finally, she made a decision. She told him about Thomas and Clara, about how she had met Carolyn again and how she hopefully had a new job making dresses. But she omitted any reference to the life growing inside her. It wasn't the right time. Soon, but not just yet.
