Chapter 10 – Emmett – They Return

The sun was just beginning to lighten the sky outside when I woke. I twisted sideways so that my legs were hanging off the edge of the bed and I stretched with a groan. It was all well and good to have an actual bed to myself, but not being able to straighten up in it sometimes made me wish for the thin pallet bed I'd slept on since I was big enough to leave the crib.

I reached across and grabbed one of the letters from the chair beside my bed. They'd come for me from home, and I started each day reading a different one.

Dear Emmett, I miss you and Hannah made cookies and Mama baked a pie it was good and it had apples and I miss you and Stephen found a frog and Will got the strap in school because he was bad and Maggie pulls my hair when she does braids so I wish you would come back and make my braids because I miss you and I finished knitting a whole scarf by myself and in school I play with Lucy and she's my friend but I still miss you is your work fun and I love you. From Elizabeth.

Elizabeth, my favourite one. The letter had no punctuation and every second word was spelled wrong, but it must have taken her days to scrawl it out in her laborious little girl handwriting and I cherished it. I was smiling when I put the letter down and stood up to dress.

Miss Ellen seemed more anxious than usual when I went to the kitchen for breakfast. It was part of my pay that I'd get all my food, and Miss Ellen was a good cook and gave out generous serves.

"Thank you Miss Ellen," I said appreciatively as she placed a plate of bacon, eggs and toast in front of me.

"Hurry up and eat it and then you can get out," she sniffed. "You know that Mr and Mrs King are coming home today and I want the house to be perfect."

I scowled. In the two weeks since the wedding I'd spent a couple of days hauling boxes and crates around as all of Mr Royce and Miss Rosalie's things were moved into the house, along with a mountain of wedding gifts. It had been a good opportunity to explore the house, which astounded me with its excessive size and the expense of everything in it. I couldn't imagine a young couple starting out life in this kind of luxury. What would you look forward to and work towards when you already had it all?

"You remember the time you need to be at the train station?"

"Yes, I remember." I rolled my eyes, even as I kept gulping down my breakfast. "After lunch, and you want me to spend the morning cleaning the car. Which isn't dirty."

Miss Ellen stopped and laughed. "Oh Emmett, you're a lamb. You know I just want it all to be perfect for the newlyweds!"

I didn't answer that. The idea of collecting the two of them had my stomach tied up in knots. I wanted to see Rosalie again, to see if the angel of my thoughts actually existed, but I almost frightened to.

Because even if she is the perfect angel you remember, she's someone else's wife. I scowled even more when I thought about that. Not just that she was married, but that her husband was my boss, and that he seemed like an ass. When I was driving them to the hotel on their wedding night I had been sorely tempted to hit him upside the head when I heard the genuine distress in Rosalie's voice as he was pawing at her. No girl should have to put up with that if she didn't want it, even if he was her husband.

There wasn't anything I could do about it though, so I went out and raked the lawns and spent the rest of the morning cleaning and polishing the car. It seemed silly to me, but it was important to Miss Ellen and she'd worked for people like this before. She knew what the proper thing to do was, and as my inexperience sat uncomfortably for me I was glad for her advice.

I reached the train station in good time, parking the car and then standing beside it, leaning casually on the hood. I watched the train pull in, and then I couldn't stop myself from scanning the alighting passengers, waiting for a glimpse of blonde hair.

I missed her getting off the train though. Instead I saw her coming towards me, her hand in Royce's arm, while the porter came behind them with a trolley full of luggage.

She was as beautiful as I remembered. Even without the otherworldliness of her wedding gown she stood out in the crowd, and mine were not the only eyes watching her as she made her way towards the car.

I remembered what I was there for and jumped to hold the door open for her, and for the first time Rosalie looked at me. Her eyes were so dark blue they looked almost violet, and her skin was like cream with a slight blush of pink on her cheeks. She smiled at me briefly, and then slid into the car.

"McCarty isn't it?"

I turned hastily back to Royce. "Yes sir."

"Everything all right at home?"

"Yes sir. Everything is set up for you and…Miss Rosalie," I answered. "We've moved all your things in while you were gone."

"Mrs King," Royce corrected me without smiling, and for a moment I didn't know what he meant. Then I realised I'd called her Miss Rosalie, and I winced.

"Sorry sir, I didn't think. No offence intended."

"Very well. We'll go straight home please McCarty."

I helped the porter load the bags, feeling irritated. I'd never minded so much being told when I'd made a mistake or done some boneheaded thing, but what a stupid thing to be corrected over! Back home, calling her Miss Rosalie would have been fine and respectful and I didn't know why he didn't like it here. Besides, seeing her up close I had realised how young she was. Royce was in his late twenties, but Rosalie was probably younger than I was, and calling her Mrs King or Ma'am seemed kind of ridiculous.

But it's not up to you to question it, I reminded myself with a quiet sigh. Just do your job and ignore the rest of it.

"Ordinary life again tomorrow," Royce sighed, taking Rosalie's hand and kissing her knuckles.

"Our honeymoon was lovely, but being home will be nice too," Rosalie said. "Getting to see friends…we'll have to arrange a dinner party."

"Oh, my little socialite," Royce teased. "It's all right for you! I have to go to work, and the old man says that now I'm married I have to become a respectable businessman and work regular hours. Such a bore!"

"I shall have to get used to running a house," Rosalie said, and I detected a slight note of apprehension.

"Nothing to it," Royce said cheerfully. "There's a housekeeper and cleaners and McCarty here to do all the dirty work….all you have to do, my princess, is do some shopping and keep yourself looking beautiful for me to come home to." He leaned over to her and nuzzled at her neck, and I did what I could to stop listening.

When we had pulled up in the driveway I opened the door for Rosalie again. I would have offered her my hand, but she was as agile as a cat as she sprang out herself.

But she looked at me and smiled as she said, "Thank you. Is it…I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

"Emmett," I muttered. "I mean, McCarty, I mean…Emmett McCarty ma'am."

Her eyes were sparkling with amusement, but she spoke gravely as she said, "Nice to meet you McCarty, and thank you."

Royce called her and she hurried over to him, slipping her hand into his and looking up at the house with a smile. "It's amazing to think that it's really ours!"

Royce laughed. "You know it's only the best for my Princess." Suddenly he swooped down and scooped her up in his arms as she shrieked, and with a loud laugh he carried her over the threshold, where Miss Ellen was waiting to greet them.

I began unloading the baggage from the car. I felt unsettled. Not just because of the way Rosalie made my heart pound and legs feel weak. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, but I knew enough to realise that beauty was only skin deep and I didn't know her. I doubted my infatuation would last. But something about Royce made me feel deeply uncomfortable. Instinctively, I knew that he was dangerous.

"Emmett, take up the bags please," Miss Ellen called to me. "If you put them in the bedroom I'll go up in a minute and do the unpacking."

"I'm on my way," I answered, taking two cases in each hand and carrying them easily up the sweeping staircase. The master bedroom was at the top of the stairs and as I went in I was amazed all over again at the size of it. My whole house would probably fit in just this room. I wished I could show my Ma where I worked. She would love to see all the artworks and furniture and fancy stuff. My sister Maggie, who probably hated being poor more than any of the rest of us, would die to spend an hour in the walk in closet.

I was silent as I put the bags down by the bed. Royce was at the window looking out and he ignored me, but Rosalie was investigating the room and where all her things had been placed and she looked up briefly and gave me a vague smile and a thank you. I nodded to her and went back downstairs to fetch the other bags.

I didn't take these ones into the room though. I could see part of the bed from the open door, and Royce had her down on it, skirt caught up around her hips so that I could see her legs from the tips of her stocking clad toes right up over her garters to the lace edges of her panties. For a moment I just stared, transfixed.

Rosalie was laughing, but there was an edge of desperation in her voice as she said, "Royce! Stop! We can't…he'll be back with the bags any minute!"

"He'll just stay the hell out of the way," Royce answered, unperturbed. "This is my house and you're my wife and I'm damn well going to fuck you any time and in any place I want to!"

I didn't wait to hear more. I placed the bags silently on the carpet outside the door and pretty much ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. Miss Ellen looked surprised as I burst through the door, and then irritated as I swiped a piece of cake off her cutting board.

"Oh honestly Emmett! This is for the Kings' afternoon tea!"

"Well, they won't be wanting it for a bit," I said, stuffing my piece into my mouth. "You just might want to wait until they come out before you go up to unpack or whatever."

Miss Ellen chuckled. "I suppose that's part of working for newlyweds!"

"McCarty," Royce said as I drove him to his office the following morning. "I want to make sure you're going to take care of Mrs King today. Take her wherever she wants to go."

"Okay sir," I answered, at the same time thinking Isn't that my job? To drive?

"Stay with her," Royce clarified. "I don't want her going out on her own, so wherever she's going I want you to accompany her, whether she's driving or not."

"Okay sir," I said again.

"Good man." Royce sighed, sound bored. "God, working with my father…you're lucky you don't have to, McCarty."

I didn't say anything. I had worked with my Pa plenty of times, both at home and at the Allison's farm, and I liked it. I had to admit though, as I pulled up outside the imposing stone building that housed the King business empire, that I might not want to work there.

Rosalie spent the morning investigating her new house, according to Miss Ellen. After making sure I wouldn't be needed, I put on my old clothes and worked in the garden until lunch. That was one thing I didn't like about my job- all the changing of clothes! Gardening clothes, regular clothes, driving clothes…I was used to just putting on one thing and wearing it until washday.

I liked the gardening work though. It wasn't too hard, but it was physical work outside and that was what I preferred. I'd already enlarged the vegetable garden and started thinking about plans for what I might want to do in the rest of the garden.

After lunch Rosalie wanted to go and visit her mother, so I had a quick scrub and put my driving clothes back on. I hoped she wouldn't look too closely at my hands though- my fingernails weren't all that clean.

Unlike Royce, Rosalie sat in the front, although she didn't speak. When we were about halfway there she said suddenly, "I suppose I should have sat in the back."

"That's where Mr King sat," I said, adding cautiously, "But if you like to sit up front, I don't mind."

"I like to see where I'm going," she answered.

Forgetting that she was my employer and I was the employee, I grinned at her. "Me too."

When I pulled up in front of her parents' house, Rosalie sat for a minute and I got the clear impression that she wasn't wild about the idea of visiting her mother. Fortunately, just before I was about to open my big mouth and likely get in trouble, Rosalie stepped out of the car, looking at me a little uncertainly.

"What do you do now?"

I looked at her in surprise. "Just wait."

Rosalie frowned. "You can go into the kitchen and have a cup of tea if you like. Joanna will give you one."

I smiled at her. "Honestly, I'm fine. You just go enjoy your visit, and I'll be here to take you home when you're done."

"Well, thank you McCarty," she said primly, and turned and marched off to the front door.

In all honesty, waiting was the hardest part of my job. After I left school I couldn't ever remember having time where I just had to sit down and do nothing. With not working I'd had plenty of time to fill in, but at home there was always something to be done, even if that was only playing football with the little boys or reading to Elizabeth. Just having to sit in the car and think was a new and unpleasant thing for me. I'd taken to stashing an old newspaper under the seat; I wasn't a very good reader but it filled in the time and I'd realised with surprise that with all the forced practising I'd likely improve. As well as that I'd stashed a small drawstring bag with little bits of wood in it, so that I could use my pocket knife and whittle a bit too. My grandad had been a wonder at making little animals, and he'd taught me to be pretty good at it too.

I was making a little horse. I thought I'd send it to Elizabeth once I was done, and I was determined to make it perfect. I'd already started it over twice, but it was looking good this time and I frowned in concentration as I started carving in the lines of the mane, remembering what Star looked like cantering around the paddock with mane and tail flying.

"What are you doing?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin. The knife slipped off the wood and the point dug into my thumb. "Shit! Damnit…I mean, sorry ma'am." I clambered to my feet.

Rosalie looked at the blood dripping out of my thumb and reached for it. "Let me see."

"No, no, it's fine!" Mortified I sucked at my thumb, but the minute I took it out of my mouth the blood welled up again.

"Don't be an idiot," Rosalie said bluntly. "You've hurt yourself. Let me fix it." Taking out her handkerchief she peered at my thumb and then wrapped the linen around it, tying it tightly. "That should do it."

"Thank you ma'am," I said, a little awkwardly. To have her so close, her warm hands touching mine, almost took my breath away. "I'm fine though ma'am, truly…let me take you home."

"Of course. Thank you, McCarty."