The Trouble With Emma. Katie Oliver

dear?”

      Isabella nodded. “Indeed we would. Thank you, Miss Bennet.”

      “Emma, please,” she insisted, and smiled. “We’ve no need of formalities here.”

      “Very well – Emma.” Miss Fairfax smiled. “I look forward to meeting your family.”

      After saying her goodbyes, Emma turned back to the door as Mrs Cusack led Miss Fairfax inside the bakery to begin the serious business of choosing a pastry for herself and her niece.

      ***

      Once back out on the pavement, Emma was as relieved to escape Mrs Cusack’s nosiness as she was to quit the steamy interior of the bakery. Although, she noted as she made her way down Mulberry Street, it wasn’t much cooler outdoors than in. She felt a trickle of perspiration slide down the back of her neck.

      She hoped the bake sale today took place inside the church, and not in the shade of the oak trees as it had last year. If there was one thing Emma couldn’t abide, it was sitting out of doors, fending off midges –

      “Miss Bennet!”

      Hearing the imperious tones of Lady Georgina de Byrne behind her, Emma turned around. Hugh Darcy’s godmother moved purposefully towards her, her iron-grey head held erect. She wore a dress of rose-printed silk and had a wide-brimmed straw hat arranged on her head.

      “Hello, Lady de Byrne.” Emma extended her hand. “How are you? I haven’t seen you since Lizzy’s wedding.”

      “I’m well, and I trust you and your father and sister are, also.” She didn’t wait for a reply, but continued, “I’ve just had word from Hugh. He and Elizabeth are returning from Cornwall on Thursday.”

      “Oh, that’s wonderful! I can’t wait to see them, and hear all about their trip. We miss Lizzy terribly.”

      “Hugh says they’re having a lovely time. They even managed to tear themselves away from the Rosings once or twice to do a bit of sightseeing.”

      “I envy them.” It slipped out before Emma could stop herself. “They’ve managed to find what so few people ever do – real, lasting love.”

      “Well, one hope it lasts, at any event,” Lady Georgina observed. She cast Emma a quizzical glance. “Do you and your father require any help preparing for the party on Sunday? You’re welcome to hold it at Rosings, you know.”

      The unspoken understanding being, of course, that Lady de Byrne would also shoulder the associated costs.

      “That’s very kind,” Emma said, her words firm, “but you’ve done more than enough already, hosting the wedding reception, and loaning out your husband’s yacht for the honeymoon. That meant so much to Lizzy.”

      “We spent our honeymoon on the Rosings, Alfie and I. It was perfect. Idyllic. I only hope that Elizabeth and Hugh are one tenth as happy as we were.” She reached out to pat Emma’s hand. “And I have a very great certainty that they will be.”

      Their walking had brought them to the end of March Street, thronged now with Saturday shoppers and tourists seeking a late breakfast or an early lunch. Emma glanced up to see Crossley Hall looming on the hill above them.

      “I understand the Hall has been sold,” Lady de Byrne observed as she followed Emma’s gaze. “I’m curious to learn who the new owners are.”

      “Owner,” Emma corrected her. “I know only that he’s male, and unmarried.”

      The woman’s eyebrow rose. “Indeed! Male, unmarried, and obviously quite wealthy, to afford to buy that old pile and fix it up… Perhaps,” she added thoughtfully, “I should host a party to welcome him to Litchfield. It’s always good to know one’s neighbours, do you not agree?”

      Emma did not reply. She watched as a workman in coveralls appeared at the end of the drive leading up to the Hall and unlocked the gates, pushing them wide. A white work van idling on the street pulled forward and drove through the gates, lost to view in the thicket of trees and hedges. The faint sounds of hammering and the whine of electric saws drifted down to her ears.

      “I do believe they’ve started work already,” she told Hugh’s godmother. “What a job that’ll be! I should think it will take months before anyone can move in.”

      “Oh, you’d be surprised,” Lady Georgina sniffed. “Money can expedite a great many things. Mark my words – our new neighbour on the hill, whoever he may be, will move in to Crossley Hall before you know it.”

Chapter 7

      “We sold every pie, cake, and cookie on offer,” Mr Bennet said with satisfaction the next morning. “The bake sale was a great success.”

      “That’s wonderful.” Emma reached for the pitcher of maple syrup and tipped a tiny bit on her pancakes. “Did you raise enough money to replace the roof?”

      “Not quite. But we’re much closer to the mark than we were. Father Crowley will be very pleased.”

      Elton, his little paws clicking on the kitchen lino, trotted in and began whining, his ugly-cute face lifted hopefully up to Mr Bennet.

      “Well, good morning, boy.” He reached down to ruffle the dog’s fur. “And what is it you want, eh? Food? Water? Attention?”

      Emma pushed back her chair with a trace of irritation. “He wants a wee, and he needs to be fed.” She went to the door and opened it, waiting as Elton, after a moment’s hesitation, made his way outside and began to investigate his new surroundings. Glancing up at the gathering clouds, she saw that rain was imminent.

      She marched to the bottom of the stairs and called up, “Charlotte! Come and mind your dog!”

      “I’m coming,” her sister retorted as she appeared at the top of the stairs in shorts and a T-shirt. “No need to shout, I only just got up.”

      “You wanted a dog,” Emma said grimly. “Take care of him, as you promised, because I promise you, I will not.” She turned on her heel and returned to her plate of rapidly cooling pancakes.

      “God, you’re such a cow.”

      As Charli followed her into the kitchen, glaring at her as she got herself a cup of coffee, Emma returned her attention to Mr Bennet. “I was thinking. Why don’t we have a bake sale here at Litchfield Manor, and raise money towards repairing the roof? You could make scones, and Martine could help with the pies and fairy cakes. I can bake cookies.” She warmed to the idea. “And perhaps I can persuade Boz to contribute a few dozen doughnuts or cream horns. We could have an auction –”

      “No.”

      She looked at him in surprise. “No? But…why not? Even a hundred pounds would go some way towards fixing the roof.”

      He sipped his coffee and set the cup back down. “Raising money for the church is one thing, Emma. But doing so for personal gain, to make improvements to my own home? It’s not appropriate.”

      “But this is the former vicarage,” she pointed out, refusing to yield. “And it has historical value.”

      “Yes, perhaps. But it’s our home now. And I will not –” he paused to fix a reproving gaze on her. “I will not solicit our neighbours for money to pay for repairs to my own house. And there’s an end to it.”

      Charlotte, who’d just let Elton back inside, smirked at her sister. “Now there’s something you don’t see every day.”

      “What’s that?” Emma retorted.

      “You didn’t get your way, for once.” She scooped kibble into the pug’s dish.

      “The leaking roof affects you as well as me,” Emma pointed out. “You might think about that the next