Chapter 6: Late For a Most Important Engagement

The sun had to fight hard to force its way past Johnathan's eyelids. When at last he did open them willingly the action was slow and halting, taking all the will he could seem to muster.

The storm of last night was gone, seemingly swept free of what little patch of blue sky Johnathan could see out the window from where he lay.

Struggling to move even so much as an inch, it was a good ten minutes from when Johnathan's mind returned to when he was able to make his body obey any command greater than breathe.

Finally managing to make it to his feet and the two strides to the wash basin, a quick look in the mirror told Johnathan that Manson's concoction had contained more than a dash of sleeping powders.

Long and drawn, Johnathan face was pale and his eyes red. It looked like he fought a round with the archangel Gabriel rather than spend a quiet night in bed.

And his hair. That was something he couldn't blame Manson. It looked even lighter than it had yesterday. And the stubble that graced his chin was well on its way to growing into a full beard.

Letting out a sigh, Johnathan lowered his head into the cold water of the basin, using the sharpness of the plunge to help banish some of the lingering fog from his eyes.

To some minor degree it worked. When next he looked in the mirror his eyes were less bloodshot and his expression less pulled. He still looked like hell, but at least not of the ninth circle.

Brushing out his hair, Johnathan took another look at the beard that was beginning to grow upon him. And grow it was. He'd never worn a beard before...

Being no barber, there was little Johnathan could do to make himself more presentable save shaving the hair to the root, but he felt strangely loath to do so.

Using what little skill he had, Johnathan cut away with his razor blade until he looked at least somewhat presentable. He was no General Burnside, but he didn't fancy himself as looking so poorly.

It was only after he'd managed to make his face presentable that Johnathan bothered to look over the rest of his body.

Oh my.

Well, that would explain why he'd had so much trouble getting out of bed this morning. He was covered from toe to collarbone in bruises. Some were light and already fading, others were a deep angry purple that didn't suggest they would be going anywhere soon.

How in god's name had he managed to get those?

Returning, still buck naked, to bed, Johnathan searched for anything in the plush covers that he could possibly have knocked against again and again during the night. There was nothing.

"That's strange..." Turning, Johnathan stretched, trying to work some moment back into his sore joints. Surprisingly, despite his stiffness he was still able to bend far more than he'd expected. It felt like he could nearly bend over backwards and touch his heels.

Putting the bruising out of his mind - it must have come when he fell in the river - Johnathan dressed.

A quick glance out the window and he was shocked to see the position of the sun. It was nearly noon. Had he slept that long?

In any event, his earlier conclusion regarding the weather had been correct. The storm had been swept away in the night, leaving as quickly as it had come. There was hardly a cloud in the robin's egg blue sky. It looked to be a nearly perfect day.

Johnathan's skin itched to get out in it, but his stomach spoke louder, demanding a meal.

Descending the staircase with a spring in his step that hadn't been there for the better part of a year, Johnathan made the walk to the dinning room in record time.

And it was empty.

"Hello?" Johnathan's voice echoed off the walls. There was no one to be seen. Not even Manson.

"Bother," he muttered under his breath. It was unusual for Johnathan to sleep in like this, but he would have expected something to be waiting for him.

A few steps further and Johnathan was nearing the kitchen. He could hear voices coming from the other side of the closed door, clear as day.

"I' the master still sleeping?" asked Elizabeth, cockney accent slurring her words.

"Aye. The old man tried waking 'em up some hours ago but he was flat out. Looks like 'nson could just as well be a doctor for all it's worth. Let's just 'ope he doesn't become a sleeping beauty. Les 'es new love 'ell have to come a wake 'em."

The two women laughed. Johnathan could hear them working from where he stood shrouded in shadow. For a long moment he was tempted to stand there and see what else there was to overhear, but his stomach rumbled again, reminding him that he had more pressing priorities.

Stomping his feet on the ground a few times to alert them of his arrival, Johnathan pressed open the kitchen door.

The two maids sat within, sitting on stools and sipping tea. They both looked up at him in surprise when he stepped in.

"Oh! Sir!" Elizabeth jumped to her feet. "We didn't know you were 'wake." Her accent slipped away when she spoke to him, not nearly as heavy as when she spoke to her equal.

Johnathan waved her off with a smile forced to his lips.

"Never mind. I'm only just aware of it myself." Crossing the kitchen he pulled open the icebox. The contents were disappointing.

"Sorry, sir," Elizabeth said, "It's market day today. We're planning to restock this afternoon."

"Oh," Johnathan's face dropped, "That's quite alright."

Pawing through the ice that sat at the bottom of the container, all that was left was a few scrappy cuts of steak.

"That's all?" He asked.

"'frade so, sir," she said.

"Young master!" Manson's voice came from behind Johnathan so sharply that he nearly straightened fast enough to knock his head on the ice box.

Turning, Johnathan could see Manson coming towards him from the hallway, he looked stricken.

"Whatever are you doing, sir?"

"What?" Johnathan forced a smile to his lips. "Is it a crime for a man to root through his own ice box on occasion?"

Reaching out a hand, Manson gently warded Johnathan away. "You should never have to do so, sir." He gave the maids a glare. "That is what you employ our services for."

Johnathan rolled his eyes. "Very well. May I employ said services then for something to eat? I'm wasting away."

Manson pulled a face. "We..." he coughed and turned away for a moment, "made use of the last of the stocks this morning for breakfast. We were planing to shop yesterday, but..."

Johnathan rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. We must at least have some bisects in the house or something."

Manson forced composure to his lips. "Very good, sir. If you'd be so kind as to wait in the dinning room I'm sure I'll be able to prepare something for you."

And that was that. Saving Manson any further embarrassment, Johnathan retired back to the dinning room. On the way he took a quick look at the post basket. The service had yet to come for today, the basket sat empty.

It was only a matter of time before Manson came into the dining room. He must have had a plan of some sort as the wait wasn't long.

With a silver dome sitting atop his tray, Manson presented Johnathan with his meal.

"I hope you don't find me presumptuous, sir," he said, "but I've taken the liberty of skipping over your breakfast and moving straight onto the midday meal."

Johnathan rolled his eyes and grinned. "I'll be happy to eat anything you give me right now."

Lifting the dome, Manson set down a plate with the steaks that Johnathan had found in the ice box. There was little to garnish them, but they looked perfect in Johnathan's eyes.

Digging into the steak with an uncharacteristic fervour, it didn't last long under Johnathan's knife and fork.

Even he was surprised just how hungry he was. Having missed breakfast was one thing, but this was something quite different. In only seconds he'd consumed all there was to be had. It took every scrap of will in his body not to lick the plate clean.

Manson stood off to one side of the dinning room, watching without comment. When the last of the meal had disappeared he stepped away for just a moment only to reappear with not one but two steaming cups of tea.

"It would appear my piecemeal meal has met your satisfaction?" Manson said as he set one of the cups done before Johnathan.

Pushing the now empty plate away, Johnathan gratefully took the offered cup. They may be running low on food, but they would never allow the tea stocks to get low.

"It was exemplary," Johnathan said before taking a sip. Fighting not to pull a face, Johnathan noted that the tea, while looking the same as always, seemed to taste far more bitter than he remembered it.

Manson held the second cup before him. Johnathan was about to ask who it was for when the man took a seat at the table.

Well, this was odd. Not unheard of, but it was uncommon for Manson to sit himself down like this, and he'd never done it with Johnathan.

"I hope you don't see me as presumptuous, sir," Manson said before taking a sip of his tea, "but I felt this would be an opportune moment to discuss that Talbots."

A slight grin slipped to Johnathan's lips. "I thought we already had. Several times."

Manson let out a long breath. "Yes, sir. Very droll. But in all seriousness, I wish to discuss your plans for the future. As it is more than likely the Talbots will accept your offers, and Miss. Talbot already has, how soon should we be expecting the ceremony? Being the wealthier of the two houses, it will likely fall to us to plan the finance the ceremony. And there are always the work that must be done to prepare the manor for a new mistress."

Johnathan rolled his eyes. "You know just how to take the fun out of something, don't you, Manson. I'm going to get married. This is supposed to be a grand adventure, not some tedious bookkeeping exercise! I don't know when we'll have the ceremony, or even where. We don't even know for a fact it will happen yet. Let's just let the Talbot's play their part and let the threads unravel as they will."

"As you say, sir." Manson took another sip of his tea and averted his eyes. "I, ah, apologize, sir, if I've put you in a bad way. I just wish to make sure all goes well."

Johnathan laughed. "Don't worry about it. I've known you long enough to be sure you have my best interests at heart. Oh," Johnathan reached to the back of his neck to sooth one of the bruises back there hidden by his long hair, "I'm not sure what you put in that concoction last night, but you may wish to lay off on it. That nearly sent me overboard. I woke up with enough sores on my body to make me wonder if I'd fallen down the stairs sleepwalking."

Manson's face paled. "I'm most sorry, sir. I've mixed it dozens of times before and never heard of it doing such in the past."

Johnathan waved him off. "No harm done."

"But onto lighter things, sir," Manson said after a pause, "I'd just like to state that I think your parents would be proud of what you did yesterday. They always held Emma in the highest regard and it would have come as no surprise to them that you two are to wed. And I am proud of you too."

"Thank you, Manson." Johnathan had to choke back the tightness that suddenly found itself in his throat. "That means a lot to me."

Reaching out, Johnathan laid his hand on the old servant's worn and liver-stained hand. His skin was pale and almost cool to the touch. This man had been with Johnathan since the day he'd been born, and outlived his parents.

Johnathan supposed this was the closest he'd ever get to finding his own parent's approval.

Stealing out after the meal was over, Johnathan left once again to walk through the back garden. Taking a cautious look towards the sky, he was happy to note that it remained clear and crystal blue.

So far there seemed to be no encore of yesterday's storm.

There was damage to be sure, branches pulled from the hedges and trees, scars on the lawn here and there. The guardners had yet to come out and fix them, but that suited Johnathan just fine. It gave the land character.

The finely manicured hills and trees had been a sight to behold before, but they had felt soulless and empty, like a fine suit wrapped around a tailor's mannequin. Now that they had a few scars they seemed to suit Johnathan better. His feet felt surer as he walked them.

The lands were relatively extensive, being out here past the edge of town as they were. Johnathan was able to wander on the secret paths he discovered as a child, the same one's he'd shared with Emma so many years ago.

It was deep down one of these many paths, far from they prying eyes of the road or the manor that Johnathan found and old oak sitting in a sheltered dell.

He'd been here many times, long ago. This had been one his favourite places to run, to be alone. The thick and plentiful branches of the oak provided more than enough shade to wait out even the hottest of the summer days.

The landscaping here was more rustic than closer to the house. Or perhaps rustic was too kind a word.

The world in this little patch of the estate hadn't seen a gardener in decades, if perhaps ever. It was for all intents and purposes the way the countryside had first been carved from creation.

The flowers that grew here we less plentiful or ordered than those in the flowerbeds, but they were no less pleasant.

Pausing for a moment in his stroll towards the great oak, Johnathan stooped to smell one of the wild bluebells that grew here. Their scent was light, almost undetectable, unlike the cultivated flowers. That simply made it all the more enjoyable for Johnathan once he could detect it.

Leaving the flowers where they were, he took the last few steps to the oak at an easy pace. He hadn't the opportunity to come here in years.

His first thought was that everything seemed smaller than he remembered, but that only caused his to snicker. Of course it looked smaller, he'd grown since he'd last been here.

Laying a hand on the weather word bark of the oak, it was rock solid under Johnathan fingers.

No more than a heartbeat later he'd reached up and found the familiar low hanging branch. It was all he needed to pull himself up.

He hadn't been sure if he'd still be able to do this. Children tended to have an easier time at climbing than adults, but Johnathan was pleased to note that if anything he found it even more comfortable up in the branches.

He didn't bother to climb far, only just enough to lift himself off the ground and hide among the leaves. There was little but a green and brown mist of branches here. He felt safe in the tree's close embrace.

Finding the old crook in a branch that he'd used so long ago, it was only a minor fight to fit.

Looking up, Johnathan could just make out a patch of blue sky above him. That was the last thing he saw before fading away in a light doze.

The opiates still in his system kept any dreams at bay, but he still twitched and turned, letting out a soft cry now and then a new bruises rose on his flesh.

Johnathan didn't know how long he lay there in the tree's embrace, but when next he opened his eyes he was sore and the sun had moved in the sky.

Wiping his eyes with the back of one hand, Johnathan was surprised to have to brush long locks of hair from his eyes.

Climbing slowly down from the tree, he had to stretch and yawn to bring life back to his body. Much like waking up this morning, he was sore. Running a hand under his jacket confirmed it, his body was once again covered in bruises that he couldn't explain.

A shudder ran through his body.

"What in god's good name..." He began to feel cold at the thought the he might be coming down with something. He'd never heard of a ailment that could do things such as this to a soul.

Shortly thereafter Johnathan set back to the manor, more quickly this time. He was still determined to enjoy what he could in the day, but there were simply too many unexplained occurrences. He'd have to ask Manson to call a doctor to look him over.

Breaking from the woods, Johnathan got his first clear look at the sky. It was later than he thought. He hadn't slept that long, but he'd gotten a late start on the day. It had to be at least five in the afternoon by the look of it.

Entering into the manor, Manson was there to great him. There was just the slightest nervous tick to the man's face.

"Young master!" Without another word Manson reached forward to rush Johnathan up to his chambers and began to tidy his appearance. "Where have you been? It's been hours!"

Johnathan couldn't work up anything more than a bemused expression. "Just went for a walk on the estate. What all the commotion?"

It took Manson a long moment to answer as he changed Johnathan's coat and trousers into more formal attire. The man took one look at Johnathan's hair and let out a sigh as he reached for the scissors and shaving kit.

No small amount of sandy blond hair fell to the floor over the next ten minutes. How Manson managed to cut Johnathan's hair while helping him into an intricate dinning suit he'd never know.

At long last Manson took a step back. He didn't look pleased, but he did look content.

"The post arrived shortly after you left, sir," Manson said, voice grave. "In it was an invitation to dinner with the Talbots this evening. I took the liberty of accepting of your behalf."

"Oh?" Johnathan cocked his head, "What time?"

Manson levelled him with a glare. "Six o'clock, sir."

"Oh dear."

Johnathan glanced over to a clock on the wall. It read five thirty. It would take a galloping horse twenty minutes to make it to the Talbot household on the other side of Hammerwod.

Running as quickly as he could in his formal shoes, Johnathan made it to the stable in record time.

Ginny startled at him when he burst in, but seemed to calm down enough when she recognized him. She was still more skittish than he would have expected, but accepted her saddle easily enough.

Leaping atop her back, Johnathan gave her a click with his heels. Ginny was no racing horse, but she'd have to do.

Breaking into an easy trot, Ginny took to the road without a complaint. Johnathan clicked his heals again to encourage her to move faster. She ignored him.

"Gedeup!" Feeling a pang of guilt he dig his heels in more forcefully. He was limited in what he could do, not wearing stirrups, but Ginny was unused to such treatment. She picked up into a slow run.

The fastest way to get to Hammerwood was to forge the River Reading. Pulling up short on the bank, Johnathan looked down at the waters. They were fast and swollen as a result of yesterday's rain. If anything they looked over twice as deep as when he and Doctor Robenson had come this way.

Clicking his tongue, Johnathan urged Ginny slowly forward into the water. She was hesitant but began slowly working her way forward.

Johnathan could feel the powerful flow of the river from where he sat stop Ginny. The horse swayed and shifted as she fought to keep her balance in the current.

About two thirds of the way through the ford Ginny slipped.

One of her front hooves sliding out from beneath her, she picked forward slightly, listing to the side.

Crouching down, Johnathan nearly hugged the horse's back as he tried to lower his centre of gravity. It was difficult enough for a horse to keep balance with a rider in circumstances like this, he didn't need to make it any worse by throwing her off further.

A breathless moment later and Ginny was able to scramble her feet back beneath her. Both she and Johnathan let out a sigh of relief.

A few seconds later they made it up the bank of the far side. Johnathan reached down to pat Ginny's neck.

"Good girl." He grinned and scratched her ear. "We all know why we've kept you so many years."

Ginny was perhaps the only horse Johnathan knew that would never throw a rider. It hadn't mattered what stupid things Johnathan had done while learning to ride, Ginny took it all in stride.

A moment to dry off and Johnathan urged Ginny back up the slow run. He would have preferred more, but it was all Ginny was willing to give.

Hammerwood rolled past them quickly. Johnathan stuck to the outskirts of town so as not to alarm anyone with their quick pace, but even then he had to fight to keep from running into people.

He got more than a few waves and quick 'good days' as he passed. Johnathan did what he could to acknowledge those he saw, but he was more intent on his destination.

Having no timepiece on him Johnathan could only guess the time, but it had to be close to six.

The Talbot's house at long last came into view. It wasn't as far out into the country as Johnathan's manor was, but it was still on the edge of town.

An elegant home that had been constructed in an Elizabethan style some years ago, the three story home was far larger than Johnathan's.

It, however, had fallen on hard times.

The building had, for as long as Johnathan could remember, been somewhat scruffy, a sign of the Talbot's declining fortune. Now, however, it was bordering on disrepair.

The long straight gravel drive had weeds growing in it at odd places. The only reason there weren't more was from the obvious use it saw. That was only too easy to see from the ruts and potholes that gouged it. Ginny had to slow down again so as not to twist a leg.

The trees that lined the drive were little better. Ornamental cherries and apples, they should be in bloom with bright pungent blossoms this time of year. Half the trees now were either dead or dieing. Those that remained were overgrown and wild, looking more like the edge of a forest that a presentable part of an estate.

The house itself... Johnathan let out a long sigh. It was only now that the true fall of the Talbot family was fully obvious.

Paint was chipped from the white facade and wood boarded up a good quarter of the windows. If Johnathan didn't know better he would have thought the house empty, unused for years.

He could now understand why Emma had been so adamant last time he'd come home from university that they meet in town and not at her home.

The last hundred yards from the home Johnathan was forced to put on his public face. Keeping his eyes in his head and pointedly ignoring the damage around him, he guided Ginny up to the waiting stable boy.

Now that was odd, Johnathan thought. They hadn't the money to maintain their own home, yet they still employed a stable boy? Such labour was inexpensive, but surly luxuries like a stable hand would be the first thing to go in a time of austerity such as this.

Stepping from Ginny's back, Johnathan handed his reins to the young lad. The kid, no more than twelve, took them silently and walked Ginny around the house to where Johnathan knew the stables waited.

Sparing a moment's glance, Johnathan noted that the boy's uniform was clean and mended. And it didn't carry the seal of the Talbot family.

Walking the three stone steps to the front door of the home, Johnathan glanced about him. The foundation of the home was intact, but that was nearly all. There was nothing inherently damaged about the building, but everything was missing the maintenance that was so required in this variable climate.

Johnathan made the decision not to touch the splinted front door. Rather he gingerly reached up to the corroded brass knocked to make his presence known.

It was no more than a heartbeat before the door opened, making it obvious that he'd been watched on his approach.

Johnathan had expected the Talbot's butler Footsy to greet him. The man had been with the Talbot's nearly as long as Manson had been with the Pennyfare's, but the tall man who answered the door was unknown to him.

"Yes, sir?" The butler's voice was deep and smooth.

Johnathan bowed his head for a moment. "Johnathan Pennyfare, to meet with Stewart Talbot."

"Yes, sir." The man nodded. "You are expected."

Stepping into the home, it looked little different on the inside than it did out. Johnathan could still recognize it from his childhood, the grand central staircase and the soaring roof, but it was all different.

Portraits used to hang on the walls and lush carpets cover the floor. They were all gone now. In their place was nothing but bare floor and plaster, and that was scuffed and unwashed.

Sparing a glance at the butler, it was obvious from a glance that this was not their normal man. Not only did he not wear the family colours, but the simple way he moved though the house made it plain he was as much a guest here as Johnathan was if not moreso.

It was subtle, but unmistakable. Any good butler knew his residence better than his own home. That as simply the way it was when you worked in a manor day in and day out. The man Johnathan followed down the hall, whoever he was, did not know this home nearly as well.

He took pains to hide it, but it was in his step, in his stride. He may know where he was to take Johnathan, but he didn't know the rest of the house.

Down the dark hallway, many of the gas lights were out. They stumbled forward until bumping into the closed door to the dining hall.

The Pennyfare dining room was sizable, but Johnathan remembered the Talbot's dining hall as being just short of regal. Space enough to fit over fifty people, it had been the centre point of the house, draped in deep purple cloth and lit by a collection of candles and lights.

Johnathan shuddered. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what it looked like now.

Pressing the door open, the buttler stepped into the light of the hall.

Johnathan let out a sigh of relief.

The hall, while quite different than he remembered it from only a few years ago, was still as grand.

The rich tapestries were gone from the walls, but the wood and plaster behind them had been painted and polished to a shine. There were fewer candles in the chandeliers above his head but they had been replaced with gaslights.

And the dining table, a massive oak affair that dominated the room, it was untouched.

Around the table clustered the entire Talbot family. Not just Stewart and Agatha but all the sons and even a good half dozen of the extended family.

The only one missing was Emma.

That single oversight alone was more than enough to catch Johnathan's attention.

"May I introduce Mr. Johnathan Pennyfare," the butler bellowed.

Johnathan winced slightly. Whatever that man's history he was most certainly not a butler by trade. He'd spoken far too loudly, almost like an actor might.

"Johnathan!" Stewart rose from his chair and made his way quickly around the table to take Johnathan's hand in his grasp.

Pressing a smile to his lips, Johnathan made a show to be pleased. "Mr. Talbot, so kind of you to have me."

Letting Johnathan's hand go, the elder man's face pulled slightly. "No need with formalities, son, just call me Stewart. You're practically part of the family now anyway!"

Hardly giving him a chance to catch his breath, Steward pulled Johnathan behind him as he turned. A moment later they were seated at the head of the table next to Mrs. Talbot.

Johnathan hadn't been quite sure what to expect coming here, but everyone else seemed to. An instant after they sat down everyone else at the table launched into conversation. None of them even acted as though Johnathan was there.

With the exception of Stewart.

"Johnathan," the man leaned back in his seat, "I've heard the good news. Congratulations."

Johnathan cleared his throat, trying to find something to say. While he hadn't truly been expecting a fight from the family for Emma, this was a touch to the odd side.

"So," Stewart continued as if the two of them were the only people in the world, "When is it I should be expecting to give away my daughter."

If Johnathan had been drinking he would have drowned.

"Sir!" He fought to find his breath, "We've only just become engaged! Surly you can't expect the wedding in less than eight months!"

Stewart's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Darling," he turned to Agatha, "Would you excuse us for just a moment? I'm sure dinner won't be out that soon."

A moment later Johnathan had been pulled into a small sitting room. Unlike the rest of the building it, as the dining hall, had been preserved, looking nearly spotless.

"Listen, Johnathan," Steward was facing away from him, lighting a cigar, "You know what's going on here as well as I do. I like you, kid, really," he turned and Johnathan could see a hard glint in his eye, "But this is more than just a marriage here. You know that."

Johnathan cleared his throat again. It seemed that was all he was doing around this man, "Yes, sir. I've heard you have had some--"

He couldn't even finish before Stewart swung about on him and advanced forward.

"Lies!" The man bellowed. "Whatever you've been told it's all lies! We'll be fine. I was cheated out of my fortune by a weasel of an investor! All I need is a little backing and I'll have it back, every penny, in less than a year!"

The man's words were fast, bordering on frantic. Johnathan had no doubt that Stewart believed every word he said, but it almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Johnathan.

"Uh, yes, sir. As you say." Johnathan fought down a blush. "Exactly how much would you be needing to get by?"

The man paused for a moment, going almost completely still. It was nearly as though he hadn't ever thought he'd get this far.

A moment later a number blurted from his lips.

Johnathan remained still as stone, but inside he breathed a sigh of relief. The number, while high, was only roughly half what Emma had given him.

The slightest smile crept across Johnathan's lips.

"Done."

Stewart's face went white. "What did you say?"

Johnathan shrugged. "Done. I'll pay. If that's the cost of Emma's hand then so be it."

In an instant the man changed. A moment before he head of the Talbot household had been beaten down and meagre, now he puffed out his chest and stood tall, nearly seeing to try and tower over Johnathan.

The show may have worked if Johnathan hadn't been four inches taller than him.

"Well, you know that there will be many expenses involved in the wedding..." Stewart began.

Johnathan cut him off with a hard glare.

"Mr. Talbot," his voice was rough, "I'm opening my arms to Emma, not my pocket book to you. Manson and my staff will be more than happy to arrange the wedding if you wish."

Like a punctured balloon Stewart's bravado left him as quickly as it came.

"But you'll help us, won't you?" His voice was weak, "It's been a rough few years. I... I've had to make the family do things, go without pleasurs I never thought I would..."

Johnathan laid a hand on the man's arm. "We'll soon be family and I'll be more than happy to help you in anyway I can. I just can't offer my resources to you unquestioned." Johnathan closed his eyes for a moment. "Just sent me a letter with your sums written out and I'll make sure they're addressed."

When the two of them returned to the dinning hall a few minutes later the meal was just being served.

Sitting without another word, Stewart was able to integrate himself back into the conversation as though he'd never left.

Johnathan on the other hand simply felt the strings of dialogue as if they were physical thing that looked over his head. He played at grasping them for a time before falling back into his chair.

It was only then he noticed the final empty chair on the far side of the table was now occupied.

Emma.

She was still in the same dress that he'd sent her off in last night. Worn and rumpled, it still managed to look grander than anything else in the room.

She was too far away for Johnathan to speak to, but they were able to make eye contact.

She smiled at him weakly before being pulled away into a conversation by one of her brothers.

For all the world Johnathan would have done anything to standup right then and there and walk her from the room.

At long last the meal ended.

There was pudding and drinks to be had, but Johnathan focused his efforts on excusing himself as soon as possible.

There were too many people here... too many men pressed together. Johnathan was already longing for the quiet emptiness of his own home.

And Emma.

Walked back to the front door by Stewart, the butler who had first met Johnathan was nowhere to be seen.

"So you'll take it then? You'll accept the offer?" Stewart's voice was shaky like he was the one asking for Emma's hand.

Johnathan closed his eyes for a moment as he stood in front of the door.

"Yes, Mr. Talbot. We have a deal." He let out a sigh. The sum was sizable... but it was worth it. "Send me a letter and I'll ensure all is dealt with."

"You won't regret this, Johnathan!" Stewart smiled like he was striking a business deal. It was almost enough to make Johnathan sick. "I'll get back on my feet and you'll see! Soon you'll be the one asking me for money!"

Johnathan nodded his head politely without saying a word and slipped through the door as quickly as he could.

He could have swore a blue streak. Emma hadn't come to see him off.

Out in the overgrown front yard, the stable boy was nowhere to be seen.

Thankfully, Johnathan remembered where to find the stable back behind the house. Walking there, he noticed that the winds had picked up since this afternoon. There were no black clouds in the quickly darkening sky, thank the lord, but the winds seemed to be fight for a repeat of yesterday.

The Talbot's stable was far larger than Pennyfare's. Only six or so horses could be stabled next to Ginny's normal stall. The Talbot's could house over a dozen.

Stepping in, Johnathan was nearly overwhelmed by the smell of animals. No matter how poor the Talbot's may be they hadn't sold their mounts. Every single member of the Talbot family, save Emma and her mother, had a horse.

Passing by the creatures, Johnathan found Ginny comfortably housed in the far stable. She'd only been given a handful of grain to eat, but other than that everything seemed well.

Glancing to the other horses, Johnathan noticed that they all too looked underfed.

And every time he walked past them they fell silent and motionless, watching him.

Their sudden stares were starting to make him nervous.

Reaching into to release Ginny from her stable, Johnathan nearly leapt five feet in the air as a set of hands came down on his shoulders.

"Dearest, you are jumpy tonight!" A voice whispered in his ear.

Turning, Johnathan grabbed Emma who stood next to him.

Forcing his heart back out of his throat, he leaned forward and masked his nerves by kissing her.

It was perhaps a little more forceful than he'd been planning. She stumbled back into the wall as he followed after her, their lips never parting.

"Jumpy isn't all you are," she whispered, planting a hand squarely on Johnathan's chest to halt his continued advancements.

"After tonight, dearest," he whispered, "I feel like a beast in a cage! How do you stand every night with those people?"

Her face fell for just a moment. "Father spoke to you about my... dowry?"

"Dowry?" Johnathan laughed. "I'd hardly call it that." Reaching forward, he lifted Emma's hand to his lips. "Think of it as the value I place upon you. For you I'd swim the Channel, I'd climb Scafell Pike. For you, dearest, money is nothing. Please, don't think of it again."

She blushed slightly as Johnathan touched his lips to the back of her hand ever so gently. He couldn't help his tongue slipping out ever so slightly to taste her skin.

"You cad!" She swatted at him playfully as he released her hand and danced back. "We aren't even married yet!"

A mischievous light shawn in his eyes, "Ah, but we will be!" He began advancing again, low to the ground with a wide grin on his face.

She couldn't hold back a laugh. "You are a cad! I'll be ruined if you touch me, no other man would want me!"

"All the more reason," Johnathan took another step closer, pausing only an inch from her, "Then I won't have to worry about competition."

Reaching forward with lighting speed, it was Emma who made the final move. Wrapping her arms around him, she drew him down for a final kiss.

When they broke her voice was breathless.

"You best be going," she took a moment to adjust her dress, "Father will be looking for me soon and we don't want to give him an excuse to up the dowry." She spat the word like a curse.

Sparing one last moment while he led Ginny from the stable Johnathan reached out to run his fingers feather light across Emma's cheek.

"Don't ever think you're not worth it," he whispered, "I'd pay it a hundred times over to be with you."