Chapter 8 – Emmett – The Angel

"Don't come in with those filthy boots on!"

Obediently I stopped on the threshold of the kitchen. "But I've already walked all the mud off in the conservatory, Miss Ellen," I pointed out with a guilty smile.

"Oh you!" Miss Ellen shook her head. "Well, never mind that now. Take them off before you come into the kitchen, your porridge is ready."

Willingly enough I kicked off my boots and went and sat at the scrubbed kitchen table. Miss Ellen, the housekeeper-cook-general boss of the house placed a bowl full of porridge in front of me, topped with melting cream and swirls of maple syrup. I'd never tasted maple syrup until I came to Rochester, and I could probably have drunk it by the bucketful.

I dug into my porridge. "Do you have anything for me to do today?" I asked through a mouthful.

"That wind last night brought down two trees at the big house and Lachlan's asked that you go over and help clear them away. I might want you for some errands this afternoon."

"Sure thing." I concentrated on my porridge.

"Oh, and the clothes were delivered late yesterday afternoon!" Miss Ellen exclaimed. "Once you've finished eating you'll try them on for me so we be sure that they don't need adjustments. It's about time you stopped going about looking like a vagrant."

Miss Ellen had taken one look at me on the first morning I was in Rochester and shaken her head, before she marched straight into my room and pulled out my pitifully few clothes. "This absolutely will not do!" she had declared. "You cannot work for the family looking like a hobo."

I hadn't taken any offence. My clothes hadn't stood out at all at home, but in Rochester they were clearly far shabbier and more tattered than anything the people now surrounding me wore. "I'll buy new ones when I've saved up the money," I said amiably. "Won't take more than a month or two."

Miss Ellen sighed impatiently. "Don't be ridiculous. We'll get them right away, and take it out of your paycheques."

"Not all of it," I said flatly. "I'm making money to help out my Ma and Pa, not buy fancy clothes."

We'd negotiated an agreement that I'd get the clothes I needed and she'd take it out of my pay over a longer period of time so that I'd still be able to send a good amount back home. The next day she'd taken me to a department store and bossed me into getting what she thought I needed, which seemed a crazy extravagant amount to me. She even took me to a tailor to get a fancy jacket made, so that I would be 'appropriately' dressed to be the chauffer.

But after all that she took me to a café and paid for me to have a coffee and a sandwich, so it wasn't too bad. Miss Ellen was about the same age as my Ma, and women like that had always babied me. Maybe it was the dimples, I don't know.

I finished my porridge and put my bowl in the sink, and then obligingly went into the pantry and changed into the new clothes. Being the fourth boy in my family I'd grown up wearing hand-me-downs, and I was very impressed with my showy new clothes. Even the chauffer jacket, which was a little tight across the shoulders and made me look like an idiot, was impressive.

"Very good," Miss Ellen said critically. "Now, your old clothes can be worn in the garden for work, but nowhere else. Do what you can to keep the new ones clean and in good condition."

"I will," I said, going back into the pantry and slipping back into my old patched pants and faded shirt. When I went back to the kitchen Miss Ellen had the new clothes on hangers and she thrust the whole pile into my arms.

"Go and hang those in your room please, and then you can go over to the big house and help Lachlan with the trees. They may need you there the rest of the day, I don't know."

"Okay, I'll see what's happening."

I gave her a grin and left, the kitchen, hearing her shout after me, "And write to your mother today! You promised her!"

I whistled as I walked the couple of streets to the big house, feeling cheerful. While it hadn't been very long, I liked my job and felt like I'd landed on my feet. Sure, Rochester was like a whole different world to home, but I'd met some good people and so far the job had a lot of interesting variety.

I could hear the sound of the axe as I reached the big house, so I followed it until I found Lachlan chopping up a fallen tree in the side garden.

"Glad you're here, boy" he said, wiping sweat off his brow. "Go get another axe and the saw from the shed."

"The chainsaw?" I asked eagerly. This was something new to me and I was awed by how much it helped in cutting wood. I was also in danger of losing a limb every time I used it, but that was a minor worry compared to the fun of it.

"Yes, but hurry up about it. The Missus went mad this morning when she saw this mess."

I jogged over to the shed. I'd never seen such a fuss as was being made over this wedding! When my sister Kitty got married it was a service in church and then everyone went next door to the hall for tea and sandwiches made by Ma and the girls. But this wedding was going to involve a church service and then a party here at the big house, where they'd hired extra tables and table services and a band and waiters and loads of decorations. Everything had to be perfect, and that included the garden.

Lachlan wasn't a big talker, but he didn't mind me jabbering on either, so the two of us worked well together. We used the chainsaw to get the bigger trunk in pieces, and then used axes to split it, wheeling it over to the woodpile behind the shed and stacking it there.

We took a break to have a cup of tea and a chunk of cake, thoughtfully provided by Mrs Maguire. I sat on one of the logs and blew on the hot tea as it cooled.

"What's he like?" I asked curiously. "The one I'll be working for? And her?" I'd met King Senior and Mrs King, but not Royce or his bride.

Lachlan hesitated, and then took a long sip of his tea. "You should probably make up your own mind about him," he said at last.

"I'm going to," I answered. "But I'd like to know what to expect."

Lachlan shrugged. "He can be arrogant, and he's used to getting his own way. At the same time he can be very generous, but…ah boy, I don't know. Just wait and see how you get on."

"What about her? The wife-to-be?"

"Oh, Rosalie Hale," Lachlan frowned. "She's pretty much what you'd think he'd choose. Prettiest girl in Rochester, and innocent as a lamb to go with it. But she holds her head high, and I'd think she could be as arrogant as he is, given the chance."

"That doesn't sound great," I said doubtfully.

"It doesn't matter in the end," Lachlan said definitely. "Your job is to do what they tell you and keep your mouth shut about it, whatever it is that you see or hear. It isn't your job to like them or not, boy."

Thinking about what he'd said, I went back to chopping and hauling wood. I was still curious about my new boss, but I figured it wouldn't be too long…the wedding of the century was only a few days away.

With an impatient sigh I shrugged my shoulders in the slightly too-tight jacket and pulled at my collar. "How much longer?"

"As long as it takes," Lachlan answered, adding in irritable tones, "And for Christ's sake boy, stop pulling at those clothes! Anyone'd think you'd never worn a shirt and tie before."

I didn't point out that while I had worn a shirt and tie before, the shirt had never had such a stiff collar and certainly never been paired with a restricting jacket that made me look like a trained monkey. There wasn't any use saying anything about it though, since the wedding had finally come around and I was now waiting with Lachlan and the cars around the side of the church, ready to pick up the family and drive them to the big house for the party.

"Okay, ready to go?" Lachlan flicked his cigarette on the ground and smoothed his hair. "I'll go first and get Mr Royce and Miss Rosalie, and you…"

"I get Mr and Mrs King," I interrupted him. "And Charlie gets the Hales." I had to hold back from rolling my eyes. Lachlan seemed more nervous about my first proper driving job than I was.

I wasn't too worried. I'd got comfortable with driving on my trip away from home, and even just a week of driving around Rochester had made me confident with the city traffic.

Besides, from the church to the big house was a journey of about three blocks. I could have practically driven it with my eyes shut.

Driving up to the church I got out and held the door. This was the part of the job that I didn't like, feeling subservient. I didn't mind working, I'd always been a hard worker, but having to act so respectful when they'd never done anything to deserve it was a hard pill to swallow.

The guests all milling about in front of the church amazed me, what with the clothes and the hats and suits and jewels. I didn't know much about fashion, but this didn't look like any wedding I'd ever been to back home. For a moment I was so busy staring I almost forgot what I was about, before I came back to myself and hastily closed the car door.

"That went off well."

I'd barely started the car before Mrs King broke the silence.

"I'm very pleased with it," she went on thoughtfully. "No mistakes, and of course Rosalie looked a picture. She really is stunning, don't you think?"

Mr King grunted. "She's a pretty girl, but right now I care more about how fertile she is. We want a grandson out of her as soon as possible."

"Well, I'm sure Royce Junior knows his business there," Mrs King said dryly. "And really Royce, she's not livestock."

"I want a grandson," he said implacably. "I didn't build up this business empire only to have it fall apart when I die, and Royce isn't any damned good. You know that. How much money did I have to spend to get him out of trouble when…"

"You said we wouldn't talk of that." Mrs King's voice was icy.

"Well, I won't then, but you know what happened. It can't happen again. He's married now, to the prettiest girl in the city no less, and we'll see if she can keep him on the straight and narrow. If not, we'll get our grandson and we'll make sure he's raised right and taught what his duty is, and to hell with Royce"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves just yet," Mrs King sighed. "A grandchild would be wonderful, and I do hope that Royce settles down with Rosalie."

We pulled into the circular driveway at the big house then, and the conversation came to an end. I couldn't help but feel shocked what I'd just heard, but I remembered what Lachlan had said about keeping my mouth shut about anything I saw and heard, and I kept my face blank as I helped Mrs King out of the car.

I was even more curious by then to see this Rosalie that I'd be working for. So far all anyone had said about her was how beautiful she was, but I couldn't help being sceptical. I looked for her as I slid back into the car, but all I saw was a flash of white silk at the top of the stairs.

Lachlan and Charlie and I parked the cars for a lot of guests who didn't have their own drivers. I liked that a lot, getting to investigate all the different cars, and I took my time with it. Once all the cars were parked I walked into the kitchen, which was a complete madhouse. I was backing hastily out again when Mrs Maguire saw me and shoved a big, heavy box at me.

"They need more spirits and wine," she told me, sounding almost frantic. "Take these in and give them to Daniels. Be as discreet as you can!"

It's kind of hard to be discreet when you're over six and a half feet tall, but I carried the box and gingerly entered the enormous hall where all the guests were gathered, talking and drinking and laughing. I was skirting the crowds and looking for Daniels, the King's butler, when I finally caught sight of Rosalie Hale King. And that could have been a disaster as my grip slipped slightly on the box and my mouth dropped, because I had never seen anything so beautiful in all my life.

She looks like an angel, was my first stupid thought. She was standing by a window, gently backlit in a way that made it look like she was shining, her veil making a halo around her head and trailing down her back in a way that suggested beautiful wings. Her dress had lace sleeves and whatever it was made of clung to her body, showing off all her curves to perfection. She turned her head and laughed as I stared, her angel face as perfect as the rest of her. All of it, all of her, so perfectly beautiful…

"Emmett, you big lump, what are you doing? For heaven's sake, get a move on!"

It was Daniels, scowling at me and making shooing motions with his hands that brought me back to earth.

"I'm…uh…" I said in confusion.

"Beverages…over there. Get it together!"

"Okay, right, I'm on it…" I took a firmer grip on the box and then continued on my way, relieved when I handed the box of glass bottles over to one of the waiting crew without breaking anything. As I turned away from them my gaze crossed the room to land unerringly on Rosalie's face. As I stared at her in fascination she waved to someone and blew them a kiss, and it was like I felt my legs turn to jelly.

Holy Mary, mother of God…help me.