His hazel-eyed gaze slid away from her. She knew he was going to lie to her. Perhaps it was better. She knew all too well why he was here, and she could do nothing to stop him.
His gaze returned to her. ‘I am up to check on you and Amy. Disturbing rumours have reached Father and me about Amy and Charles Hawthorne. After what his brother did to you, Father decided it would be best for all of us if I came and stayed. Provide a brotherly presence and all that. Besides which, the man is not someone we wish in the family. A rakehell of the first order. No, not at all what we wish for Amy.’
‘But a rich rakehell,’ Emma said, unable to stop the sarcastic retort. ‘We could use that commodity.’
Most days she felt no bitterness toward her brother and father for their recklessness at the tables, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop them. She tried to clean up the mess they left behind. Mother would want her to.
One day after Emma had got into a fight with Bertram over his gambling debts and the hardship they created, Mother had explained that some things were better left unsaid. Harsh words changed nothing and only created trouble between the people involved. Emma had followed that advice since, although at times like tonight, it was hard not to let her anger burst out.
She closed her eyes and willed herself to release the destructive emotions. They did no one any good, least of all herself. She could not change anything.
‘Your tongue is sharp tonight, sister.’
Emma took a deep breath and opened her eyes. ‘I am tired and surprised to see you. You sent no note so there is no room ready for you.’
‘The housekeeper saw to all of that.’
‘When did you arrive?’
‘An hour ago. You were out.’
‘You woke Mrs Murphy?’
‘Naturally.’ He shrugged. ‘That is why one has servants.’
He was right, of course. ‘There is not much available. We have had to move once already and our spare rooms are at a premium.’
‘And they are of less than top quality.’
She bristled. ‘And why do you think that is, brother?’
He had the grace to flush. ‘Mama always managed to make do.’
A pang of guilt because of her ire assailed Emma. Their mother had been wonderful. She had kept the houses that eventually became one house as though they still had an income of consequence. Whenever something had happened, Mama would smile and say, ‘Your Papa is an impetuous man, but he is always generous and loving.’ She had said the same about Bertram, and it was true more often than not. Then Mama would shoulder the new burden with a smile on her face.
It was because of Mama’s memory and her love for her husband and son in spite of anything they did that Emma kept going, kept trying to stay one step ahead of the trade people and money lenders. Mama would want her to.
But things had become worse after Mama’s death. Both Papa and Bertram gambled unchecked, and there was no Mama to look on the bright side.
‘Mama had more to make do with.’ Emma’s exhaustion laced the words.
Right now, with Bertram standing in front of her, and knowing he would gamble away still more money and heirlooms while he told himself he was providing brotherly support and protection, it would be very easy to feel defeated. Emma squared her shoulders. She would not feel sorry for herself. She would look on the bright side and carry on. Mama would want her to.
‘We would not be in this position if George Hawthorne had not acted dishonourably or if you had held him to the engagement.’ Bertram’s voice was both accusing and whiny.
Emma looked at the brother she loved in spite of his faults and wondered when the boy who had shown her how to trout fish and joined her in madcap escapades had changed to the man standing before her. This man was weak, and he blamed others for his situation instead of himself. Regret filled her heart for what Bertram had become.
‘We had this discussion at the time, Bertram. I did what I thought best.’ She did not want to continue in this vein. It led nowhere. ‘Now, I am going to bed.’
Even as he opened his mouth to continue, she turned her back to him. When she heard his voice, she ignored it and went up to the next floor and her room. Tomorrow would be a long day with Amy to curtail and Bertram’s gambling to worry about.
Emma looked up from her third cup of hot chocolate, one of her few indulgences, as Gordon, the butler, entered the breakfast room. She smiled at the old man who had begun service with her family as a footman and was now at the pinnacle of achievement.
‘Yes, Gordon?’
‘Miss Stockton, you remember requesting us to keep an eye on Miss Amy?’
Emma set the half-empty china cup down and carefully folded her hands in her lap. Something had happened which she would not like.
‘Yes, I do.’ She was glad her voice sounded calm when she really wanted to scream in frustration.
‘Well, Miss Amy has just sent one of the hired kitchen girls on an errand.’
‘Do you know what kind?’
The butler shook his grizzled head. ‘No, Miss. The girl was gone when Cook told me. Seems Miss Amy got to the girl just as Cook entered the kitchen to prepare your breakfast.’
Neither he nor Cook could question Amy. Emma sighed. ‘Where is Amy now?’
‘I believe she went back to her room.’
‘No doubt back to bed. It’s very early considering the time we returned last night.’
She rose and dusted toast crumbs from her plain black bombazine dress. She had bought it the first year after Mama’s passing. It was still in too good a condition for her to be rid of it, although the harsh lines and dark colour were not the most flattering for her.
‘Thank you, Gordon.’ She went past him into the small hallway and made her way to the stairs before stopping. ‘Is my brother at home?’
‘Yes, Miss. I believe Master Bertram is sleeping.’ He cleared his throat, an unconscious habit he had when he thought he should say something but didn’t want to.
She would help him. ‘Did my brother come in several hours ago?’
‘Yes,’ Gordon murmured.
She wasn’t surprised. She had expected Bertram to go out after their talk last night. In fact, she would have been shocked had he not.
‘Thank you again, Gordon.’ Somehow she found a smile for him, knowing it was weak but the best she could do.
Emma turned back to the stairs and mounted them slowly, keeping her back straight even though it felt as though the weight of the world rested on her. She was not surprised by anything the butler had told her. Both her siblings had acted just as she expected them to. But the consequences of their actions would make life more complicated for her.
When she had promised Mama that she would care for them and Papa, come what may, she had never expected it to be this difficult. Now all she could do was her best.
Emma rapped on Amy’s door. When there was no answer, she entered. She was in no mood to cater to her sister.
Amy sat up in bed, her blond curls spread around her shoulders in glorious disarray, her cheeks rosy with excitement and her blue eyes dancing. Emma had no doubt Amy’s note had precipitated something Emma would not like and that Amy would like very well.
‘Good morning, Em.’ The younger girl was all innocence.
Emma moved into the room. ‘Good morning, Amy. I hear you have been to the kitchen.’
Amy