A/N: The sisters return to Misthaven and the story moves on to the stage. Hope you enjoy! Thanks to my betas thegladelf and mryddinwilt for all their input.
Emma and Mary Margaret returned to Misthaven in March, after a three-month sojourn in London that had been filled with heartbreak and tumult. As Emma caught sight of the vine-covered walls of Arendell Cottage, she felt relieved to have returned at last. Mrs. Lucas wanted to go on directly home, and therefore the sisters took leave of her within the carriage and stepped down.
Ingrid was standing outside with Ashley, Astrid, and even Leroy, to welcome her young cousins back home. As Ingrid embraced her cousins, Emma's eyes filled with tears. Ingrid passed a soothing hand across her shoulders, saying, "There, now. You're home."
The sisters spent the next few days getting back into their old routine. At first, Ingrid did not make any enquiries regarding Neal or David, for which Emma was thankful. Indeed, Emma and Mary Margaret did not talk about them even when they were alone together. Mary Margaret seemed particularly desirous of avoiding any mention of David. And the wound in Emma's heart was still too fresh, and she did not wish to prod it repeatedly, even if the pain over the revelation of Neal's true character now eclipsed her initial heartbreak. That someone she had cared for—that she still had lingering feelings for though she tried hard to fight against them—was so immoral was deeply painful to her. His treatment of her, while not the actions of an honorable gentleman, paled in comparison to how despicably he had treated Wendy Jones. Emma could see nothing to mitigate his actions in that quarter.
Ingrid's quiescence did not last for long, however, and at the end of the week, she opened the conversation with, "Emma, I feel that I did not do enough to shield you from Neal Cassidy. I took you and your sister away from Locksley and promised you a comfortable home, but I fear I failed in my responsibilities as a guardian."
Emma dropped the book she'd been reading in her surprise. She retrieved the book from where it had fallen and collected her thoughts. Emma had not expected Ingrid to blame herself over this. "Cousin Ingrid, the fault is entirely mine. You did caution me against the improprieties he was leading me into." Her lips twisted down. "I was too blind to listen."
"We were all blinded to a greater or lesser degree by his charm." Ingrid sighed. "I have known him ever since I moved here with Helga about ten years ago now. We were not well acquainted, but I would never have pegged him down as the kind of man who would so cruelly sport with a woman's feelings."
Oh, if only Ingrid knew the whole truth! Emma wondered if she ought to reveal the information contained in Belle's letter, without naming Wendy, but a few minutes' reflection convinced her against it. Even couched in the vaguest terms, their cousin might be able to put two and two together and discover the identity of Neal's victim. Besides, she had not even told her sister. Emma felt as though it would be as much a betrayal of Mary Margaret as of Captain Jones if she shared the information with Ingrid. To Mary Margaret and Ingrid, therefore, Neal was only the man who had broken her heart. They would have to remain ignorant of the full extent of his perfidy.
"How is your sister holding up over Mr. Spencer's engagement? Mary Margaret never spoke to me openly about the matter, but I suspected a tendresse between them when he visited us."
"You weren't wrong in your impression, cousin," Emma acquiesced. "Mary Margaret seems to be holding up much better than me. But sometimes I feel she just does not wish to show it. It's not going to be easy for her when David takes up his position as rector here."
Ingrid shook her head sympathetically.
Emma hesitated before asking, "Cousin Ingrid, were you ever tempted to…?"
"Marry?" Ingrid smiled. "I received one or two offers when I was young, but most of the young lads were put off by my cold demeanor, or so my sister used to tell me."
"Helga?"
"No—Gerda. She and I were always squabbling." Ingrid huffed.
"Why did you and cousin Helga decide to settle in Misthaven?" Emma had always been curious about this point, but she not felt comfortable discussing this with her cousin before. Even though she and Mary Margaret had spent the last three months elsewhere, there was more ease and familiarity between them and their cousin now.
"I suppose we wanted to put as much distance from Gerda as we could." Ingrid gave a small self-deprecatory laugh. "It all seems quite trivial now."
"Has cousin Gerda ever visited you?"
"Not once. Not even for Helga's funeral." Ingrid sighed. "But then, we never visited them either. Gerda has two lovely daughters, but I haven't seen them in a long time."
After some minutes of silence, Ingrid cleared her throat and said gently, "I know it may seem like the end of all hope for you and your sister now. But you're both still quite young. You will rally again."
Emma felt a little comforted after her talk with her cousin, and went back to her former pursuits with a more willing spirit. She took out the music sheets Captain Jones had given her. She was ashamed to realize how long she had neglected them, and tackled them with renewed vigor.
At church on Sunday, Emma was surprised to find that Misthaven had a new curate. August Booth had been replaced by a Mr. William Scarlett, who would presumably stay on until David's arrival.
Emma caught up with Belle after the service and thanked her for the letter. Belle pressed her hand warmly. "You're welcome," she replied, a hint of sorrow in her voice.
Mr. Scarlett joined them. Belle made the introductions.
"I hear the new rector is a relation of yours, Miss Emma," said Mr. Scarlett. "Tell me, when do I have to start packing me bags?"
Emma huffed out a surprised laugh. "I do not know when Mr. Spencer will be here."
"Mr. Scarlett, I didn't realize you had any bags," said Belle, with a twinkle in her eyes.
"You got me there, Mrs. Gould." Mr. Scarlett threw up his hands and grinned.
Belle turned back to Emma, "I'm glad you're back for more than one reason, Miss Emma. Would you and your sister be available to make parish visits this coming week?"
"Of course," said Emma, cheerfully, eager to get immersed into Misthaven life once more.
March slid into April with a late burst of snow and ice. Emma was at her pianoforte practicing vigorously one morning when the drawing room door opened to admit Captain Jones. Emma stopped and made as if to get up.
"Please do not stop on my account," said Captain Jones, raising his hand. "I shall wait for you in the parlor."
Emma hesitated for a moment and said, "I do not mind if you stay, Captain. Cousin Ingrid and Mary Margaret have gone to Storybrooke, but they should be back shortly."
"Alright." Captain Jones scratched behind his ear in what seemed like a nervous gesture and sat down. Emma wondered if he felt awkward being alone in her company. She herself felt a little nervous as she turned back to the music. She and the captain had jumped from being casual acquaintances to sharing intimate revelations and then to having no contact for several weeks. Emma was unclear how to navigate the social niceties of the situation. So, instead of speaking, she started playing.
There was an immediate change in the atmosphere of the room. Music was a language they could both understand without the need for words. Emma felt at ease as her fingers flew over the keys. He pulled his chair closer to her piano and sat listening silently, and when she was done, he praised her performance.
She thanked him and added, "It's one of the pieces you gave me." It was an accident that she had been playing that particular one when the captain had called, but Emma was glad of the chance to show him that she had not scorned his thoughtful gift.
He smiled warmly. "I recognized it."
Emma had a sudden thought. She rooted through her music sheets and pulled up the one that had been giving her some trouble. "Captain," she said, waving the sheet in his direction. "I was wondering if you could help me with this one section here. I'm not sure what I'm doing wrong."
He rose and came closer. Taking the sheet from her, he spread it on top of the instrument. Emma pointed to the troublesome section.
"Could you try it now?" he asked.
Emma placed the sheet in front of her and played through the section once.
He hummed. "Let me see it again?" he said, reaching for the music.
Emma hesitated. "Perhaps it might be easier if you come over to this side?" Her heart suddenly beat faster, wondering if he would think she was being too forward. However, without as much as a raised eyebrow, he did as she had suggested. Leaning forward a little from behind her, he looked over the section and made a couple of suggestions. Emma caught a whiff of citrus and sage and she wondered if he used a perfume with those fragrance notes and then reddened at the derailment of her train of thought.
She tried his suggestions.
"It still doesn't sound quite right." Emma made a frustrated huff. "Would you like to try?"
He hesitated, and Emma immediately felt horrible. Had he not told her that he had stopped playing? Most likely due to his war injury, and she had just called attention to it like an imbecile! She stammered out, "I mean, you don't have to, of course…"
"No, you're correct. I might be able to interpret the passage better if I try it myself."
Not knowing what to think, Emma slid out of the bench to make way for the captain. She wondered how long it had been since he had played. Shifting his coattails out of the way, Captain Jones sat down and took off the glove in his right hand, but kept the other glove on. Standing so close, Emma noticed the hint of ginger mixed with the dark strands of hair in his head. His shoulders flexed as he played a few bars, and Emma was recalled to the moment with a blush. He then started playing the section above the problematic one. It was evident that the glove on his left hand was hindering his fingering. An annoyed huff escaped his lips and he took off the offending glove. Emma's gaze automatically fell on the hand it had been covering. There was a large scar that ran down from the top of his ring finger, curved down the back of his hand and disappeared into his shirt sleeves.
He started playing again. The slight stiffness in the injured hand affected the speed of his playing, but Emma could tell that he was no unskilled amateur. He tried a couple of variations in fingering.
"I think there is a wrong notation here—perhaps a mistake made by the person who copied the music. If we skip over that note…"
"There!" cried Emma. "I think you have it."
Captain Jones grinned, and repeated the line.
"Let me try it," said Emma eagerly.
Captain Jones picked up his gloves and slid out of the bench and Emma slid back into the spot. She copied what he had done. "It's perfect." She turned to him. He smiled broadly. "Thank you," she said warmly and meant it from her heart. Captain Jones had ignored his discomfort for her sake and she felt genuinely grateful.
"You're very welcome, Miss Emma," he said. "I'm glad I could be of help."
She rose from her seat and they both moved to the other side of the instrument.
"I should take my leave," said Captain Jones, looking at the clock on the wall. Almost an hour had flown by.
Emma hesitated on whether she ought to press him to stay. She did not wish to repeat the improprieties she had been led into with Neal. But then, Captain Jones had behaved like a gentleman. Making her decision, she said, "Let me offer you some refreshment. It's the least I can do."
Captain Jones refused her offer of tea, however, and picked up his hat in preparation to leave. Wanting to see his stallion again, Emma followed him to the stable. Bill nickered softly when she greeted him.
"I think he recognized me," Emma said with a grin.
Captain Jones chuckled. "He likely remembers you giving him the apple. Bill's memory tends to run along the lines of food."
Emma laughed. "In that case, I will find him something to eat so he remembers me even better." Rooting around in the shelf where the donkey feed was kept, she located a pear, and with a short mental apology to the absent donkey, fed it to Bill.
"I'm surprised you don't ride, Miss Emma, seeing how fond you are of horses."
"Mary Margaret is the horsewoman of the two of us," said Emma. "I was too busy taking music lessons with Mama."
"Ah! I see," said Captain Jones. "Did the pianoforte belong to your mother?"
"Yes." Emma smiled fondly. "She was an accomplished player. I don't play half so well as her."
"I'm sure that's not true," Captain Jones responded. "You play remarkably well."
"Thank you. I feel closer to her whenever I play the pianoforte," she confessed.
"I'm sure your mother would be proud," he said, gently.
Emma's lips trembled. She did not trust herself to reply.
Ingrid and Mary Margaret returned home at that point, and after Mary Margaret had taken a few minutes to admire Bill and make a fuss over him, Captain Jones left.
Ingrid and Mary Margaret had been curious to see Captain Jones in a tête-à-tête with Emma, but Emma had shrugged off their suspicious looks, only telling them that he had helped her with her music and that they had not noticed the passage of time. For a reason Emma could not quite articulate even to herself, she did not want her relations making too much of their interactions or teasing her.
Emma's determination to stave off Ingrid's and Mary Margaret's curiosity was not to last long, however. The captain called not many days after to issue an invitation to dine at Misthaven Abbey. Emma, whose interest in seeing the Abbey had revived since her recent encounter with Captain Jones, was pleased. On the afternoon of the dinner, she spent more time on her toilette than she had in months. The outfit she had chosen—a pale green muslin gown with emerald green knot-work—was a recent acquisition from London, and brought out the color of her eyes. Mary Margaret helped Emma braid her hair while she sat at the dressing table and held up a second mirror so Emma could see how her hairdo looked from behind and decide where the decorative hairpins were to go.
"You look very pretty," said Mary Margaret, putting away the mirror once Emma was satisfied with the way her hair looked.
"Thank you!" said Emma, her eyes crinkling with a smile.
Mary Margaret gazed at her sister consideringly. "I suppose there was no particular reason why you spent the past two days deciding what to wear?"
Emma colored. "No reason at all."
Mary Margaret gave Emma a knowing smile and stepped away to complete her own dressing.
Captain Jones sent his coach to pick up Miss White and the Miss Blanchards at three, in order to accommodate a short tour of the Abbey before dinner. Emma kept fidgeting all through the drive, looking out through the window one minute, and rearranging the folds of her gown the next, until the carriage turned away from the main road. A narrower path led to the open gates of the Abbey, and they entered a drive lined with an avenue of beech trees on either side. Even though it was almost the end of April, the late Spring-frosts had delayed their leafing out, and the branches were just putting out lime green young leaflets. There was a delicate smell of wet earth about them from a rain shower earlier that day and the trees and the shrubbery all around looked freshly washed and sparkling.
They alighted from the carriage and stood a minute gazing up at the great stone edifice of the Abbey. It was a large handsome building, with many turrets and windows. Robert Gould had probably spent a tenth part of his income merely to pay the window tax every year, thought Emma wryly. The vestibule was large and had doors leading away from it on either side. In its center stood a grand staircase that led upstairs. The footman led them through the left-hand door and into the drawing room, where Captain Jones was waiting to receive them. He rose and welcomed them cordially. Emma suddenly felt conscious of the short sleeves of her gown as the captain's eyes lingered on her person. Perhaps noting her heightened color, Capitan Jones cleared his throat and moved to introduce the only other occupant in the room.
"Miss White, Miss Blanchard, Miss Emma, may I present Admiral Nemo?"
Admiral Nemo made a courtly bow. So, this was the gentleman who had stood by Captain Jones through many of his distresses. Emma formed a favorable impression of the admiral at first glance. He was tall and well-built, with a ruddy complexion, and eyes that crinkled in a kindly fashion when he smiled. Though bald, he wore no wig.
Mentioning that Mrs. Gould would join them at five, Captain Jones offered to show the rest of the party around the Abbey in the meantime. The idea was met with enthusiasm, and they set off. Emma wondered at Mrs. Gould's exclusion from the tour, until she remembered that she used to live here at the Abbey as its mistress, and appreciated the captain's delicacy.
"The Abbey dates back to the twelfth century, though most of the front quadrangle has been rebuilt within the last century or two," Captain Jones said as he led them back to the vestibule and through the door across into a lofty passage. "But I believe successive architects did manage to preserve the architectural style of the original."
Several doors were set along the left wall of the passage, which, though narrow, was well-lit with wall sconces every few meters.
The lived-in areas of the house, which consisted of the drawing room they had just vacated, a couple of parlors, the captain's study, and the principal bedrooms in the second floor, had been refitted after the captain had taken possession of the Abbey. Though modernized, their style harmonized with the older furnishings that had been left untouched in the less-used rooms of the Abbey.
This was all in opposition to Neal's insinuations. Whether he had deliberately lied or if his bitterness against the captain had led him to blow up every little alteration that had been instituted was debatable. Emma wondered, not without some humor, if her own and her sister's less than positive feelings regarding the renovations at Locksley would be regarded in a similar light by people unconnected with their family.
"I see you're not one of those who believe in stripping an old building of its character in the name of 'improvements', Captain," Ingrid commented.
Captain Jones gave a small smile. "I had a deal of trouble convincing the architect to show restraint."
"I'm glad," said Emma, softly. "Anything else would have jarred with the character of the building."
Captain Jones looked pleased at her compliment.
The portrait gallery had a long line of pictures that wrapped around the walls of the room; Emma recognized the features of Belle, looking a little younger, in one of the frames nearest to the door. Emma's eyes automatically fell on the picture frame next to it. Robert Gould's name was inscribed on the plaque below. It was a full-figure depiction of the man standing in open air, the silhouette of the Abbey faintly visible in the background. He was leaning on a gold-tipped cane and there was an expression of hauteur and disdain on his face. On the right side of the picture was the portrait of another woman. With a shock, Emma read the plaque as that of the first Mrs. Gould—Milah, the woman whom Captain Jones had loved and lost.
Milah Gould was a pretty, dark-haired woman with coppery highlights brought out by the skill of the artist. The burnish was heightened by some metal hair clips that kept stray locks in place. Her eyelashes were thick and framed eyes that held a hint of mischief.
Captain Jones came and stood by Emma. Emma glanced at him sideways. He scratched behind his ear—a gesture Emma had come to recognize as signifying nervousness. She recollected the last time Milah had been named between them and blushed in shame at the memory. Wanting the captain to know that she had changed her perceptions regarding the matter, Emma took a deep breath and murmured, "I'm sorry for what I said earlier about..." She made a small gesture towards Milah's painting. "I was a fool to have ever believed him over anything."
Captain Jones's face visibly brightened and he gave her a shaky, grateful smile. "Thank you, Miss Emma."
A little embarrassed, Emma turned her face towards the picture once more. After a moment, she said, "She was beautiful."
"Yes, she was," came the wistful reply.
Emma's heart gave a pang. It was evident that her loss still pained him. The rest of the party moved closer to them.
"Where's your portrait, Captain?" Mary Margaret asked him.
"I don't have one, Miss Blanchard," he replied with a smile.
"Killian thinks he's above such trivialities," Admiral Nemo said in a gently teasing voice. "But I tell him, his children will want to see how he looked when he was young."
Captain Jones reddened and he gave a quick glance at Emma, which made her blush in turn when she realized that Mary Margaret had caught that brief exchange. Flustered, Emma walked out of the door and the others followed. Seeing that it was close to five, they all trooped back to the drawing room to await the arrival of Belle.
Admiral Nemo was the principal spokesman during dinner. He had traveled extensively and his naval career was illustrious. When he disclosed that he had been born in colonial India, Emma wondered if the darker hue of his complexion was owed to something more than just his long service in the navy.
"By the by, Killian, if you do not wish to return to the sea speedily, I would advise you to stay put in the country," said Admiral Nemo, after a lull in the conversation. "There's every chance of you getting roped into something that's brewing if you show your face in London."
"I always long to be at sea." Captain Jones dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. "But I have no wish to leave the country at present. So, I thank you for the warning, Admiral."
Emma felt relieved on hearing that the captain was not planning to leave Misthaven in the near future, and then was surprised at herself for her reaction.
"I hope this doesn't signal that the French wars aren't ended, Admiral," said Belle, with a wry smile.
"There's nothing to fear in that quarter, madam." Admiral Nemo made a reassuring gesture. "This is about some troublesome conditions at the Algiers."
"And our country wishes to stick its nose where it doesn't belong, as per usual." Ingrid completed.
Emma snorted.
"Rather an unpatriotic thing to say in front of two officers of the navy, madam," said the admiral, turning to face Ingrid with an arched brow.
"But not untrue, you must own, Admiral," returned Ingrid, with a smile.
The two stared at each other for a few moments. Emma and Mary Margaret exchanged a surprised look.
After a moment, the deadlock broke. The admiral inclined his head with the hint of a smile. "I concede with good grace."
"You need not fear any reprisals, Miss White." Captain Jones grinned. "The admiral's opinion is not too far removed from your own, though he's too much of an old Empire stalwart to admit to it openly."
Everyone laughed.
"And what of you, Captain?" Emma gave him an arch look.
"Oh, the admiral knows I'm too much of an irreverent dev…er…fellow to care," Captain Jones finished.
Emma bit her lip to hide her smile at the captain's near slip into sailor parlance.
After dinner, Captain Jones and the Admiral forwent the usual dining etiquette, and accompanied the ladies back to the drawing room. The captain was too well-bred to leave the ladies to entertain themselves while he swilled port wine in the dining room. Tea and coffee were brought in, and after some pleasantries, Captain Jones came up to Emma with smiling civility and requested her for music. Emma had expected the summons, and yet, she could not help feeling a flutter of pleasure on receiving it, and assented to his request with alacrity.
At the end of her first piece, she received the usual praise and requests to continue, but Admiral Nemo had something more to add.
"Killian, I have not heard you sing in a long time. Won't you indulge an old friend?" Turning to Emma, he added. "I hope you will not take my request amiss, Miss Emma. I assure you—Killian will not disgrace you with his accompaniment."
Emma looked at the captain with interest. She knew that he used to play the piano, but had not guessed that he also used to sing. "I would be honored," said Emma.
"I haven't sung in a long time." Captain Jones demurred. He shrugged his shoulders a little uncomfortably.
When the others added their importunities, he gave in. After a brief consultation, he and Emma settled on John Newton's "Amazing Grace" as arranged by the composer John Husband.
"Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind but now I see."
Captain Jones was a high tenor, and his voice blended with Emma's sweet soprano to produce a mellifluous rendition of the piece. When they reached the end of the song, the captain turned away slightly and Emma saw him brush his hand over his eyes. Emma was curious at his little display of emotion, but wasn't sure if he would welcome her curiosity in the matter. All were full of appreciation and requested another song from them. Emma was pleased when the captain assented. She did not often get the opportunity to sing duets, especially with someone who sang so well.
The next activity was to be a surprise. Captain Jones instructed everyone to wrap up warmly, and insisted on supplying additional shawls and coats. He refused to answer any of their enquiries other than to say that they needed to be prepared to climb a lot of steps. Curiosity burning, Emma and the others followed the captain up to one of the turrets on the back quadrangle of the building. This part of the Abbey still had some of the original structure intact, though it had been subsequently well-reinforced. While Emma did not jump to the conclusion that skeletons of long-dead prisoners lurked in hidden chambers within its ancient walls, it felt as though she was walking back in time.
Captain Jones pulled out a key from his pocket, unlocked and opened the door of the tower room, holding it open for the party to enter. Emma gasped when she beheld the contents of the room. There were two telescopes there, one of which was rather large in size. Indeed, a section of the wall had been removed to enable the arm of the instrument to protrude outside. Emma now got the reason for all the wraps and shawls.
"Is that…a Herschel telescope?" asked Belle in an astonished voice.
The captain bowed.
Emma walked up to the smaller telescope and peered through it. It was pointed in the direction of the sea, but everything was too blurry. She turned to Captain Jones. He came over to her side.
"The image is not clear." Emma pointed to the lens.
She stepped aside. Captain Jones looked through the eyepiece and made some adjustments. Straightening, he directed her try again, showing her how to adjust the barrel to make the image sharper. Emma caught the faint bouquet of citrus and sage as she stepped closer, the scent now mingled with the salty tang of the sea. Tiny goosebumps erupted in her skin as she bent down. The captain had trained the telescope on the moon. Emma saw the pale yellow disc set like a beacon amidst the twinkling stars. "Oh, it's so pretty!" she said excitedly.
Captain Jones smiled at her enthusiasm. "May I?" he asked.
Emma stepped to the side once more. The captain turned the barrel of the instrument down towards the sea, and after a few moments, directed her to take over. Emma peered through the barrel once more, but it was too dark to discern anything.
"Wait a moment, Miss Emma," he instructed, as Emma made as if to speak. So, she waited, wondering what she would see. In a few moments, a beam of light cut through the night sky, faintly illuminating the waves as it arced across the waters.
Emma gasped. "The lighthouse! Oh, how beautiful!" she cried and glanced at the captain. "Thank you for showing it to me."
"I'm glad you find the sight pleasing." He smiled. "There is nothing that brings tranquility like the sight of a full moon on the waves."
"You can tell the ocean your secrets, but the question is whether the ocean will tell you hers," said Admiral Nemo, walking up to them.
"Indeed," said Captain Jones.
Emma looked through the telescope for a few moments longer and then gave way to the others, who had all collected around them by now.
Captain Jones took her over to the larger telescope next and spent some time in pointing out various stars and constellations. For the next hour, they spent their time in raptures over the night sky, alternating between the two telescopes. Emma was enchanted by it all. By the time they returned home, it was very late, and yet, Emma could not stop thinking of Captain Jones as she sat in front of the dressing table and pulled out hairpins and combs, her hair tumbling down in a golden cascade. She lifted the simple gold chain from around her neck and placed it carefully in a box and stashed it in a drawer of the dressing table. As she was about to close the drawer shut, her eyes caught sight of the edge of a linen handkerchief. It was the one Captain Jones had given her in London at the theater. She took it out and passed a gentle hand over the embroidered initials, thinking about the owner of that scrap of cloth.
Emma could no longer deny that she liked, respected, and even admired the captain. She had foolishly let her initial, favorable impression of him be poisoned by Neal Cassidy's invectives and was now heartily ashamed of how badly she had misjudged the two men. Neal's open manners and confident assertions had led her into trusting him, while the captain's more reserved manners had made her wary. However, when she thought back over the course of her acquaintance with both men, it was Neal and not the captain who had abused her trust. There were warning signs right from the start—Neal had led her into behavior that she knew was improper, but had chosen to ignore because it gave her a thrill to indulge in them. Considering Neal's disgraceful treatment of Wendy Jones, Emma supposed she ought to be thankful that he had not crossed the line beyond stealing a kiss from her. Emma unconsciously wiped her lips with the handkerchief, and then realizing what she had done, laughed slightly.
Emma was not fool enough to ignore the fact that the captain regarded her with a certain degree of admiration, but he had remained unmarried in the decade since the death of the woman he had loved, and he was evidently still not over the pain of that loss. Would he contemplate matrimony now, even with the spark of attraction and pull between them? Besides, Captain Jones had a wide life-experience, while she had lived a mostly sheltered existence. Would such a man be seriously interested in her? Emma did not wish to rush into any conclusions at present. She was unsure of her own feelings, and thought it unwise to encourage any expectations in her mind. She would proceed more cautiously this time and not imagine herself engaged before their courtship had even begun, she thought wryly.
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