Page 36 of Emma & Edmund

"Come, Miss," the maid whispered, seemingly as shaken as she. Although not too much as to not swipe a thumbfull of rouge over the tip of Emma's nose. "We must go. Now."

The pair, after a tense glance in the hall to ensure its emptiness, finally started their escape from the home. True to her thoughts, the common men's shoes were exceptionally difficult for her to walk in. Or stumble, as the case may be.

Turning suddenly off the main hall, the maid scurried through a servant door hidden in the wainscotting, flinging it open with such silence and speed, it left Emma impressed. "This way, Miss."

Beyond the door lay a narrow landing, with equally narrow stairs ascending and descending in parallel. The girl had already begun running down, and by the time Emma had shut the door behind them, she had to hurry to catch up.

"Slow down!" Emma wheezed, struggling to gain on the girl.

"The Master is already waiting for us! Just a bit more Miss." If Emma wasn't mistaken, there was a definite twinge of excitement in the girl's voice.

One final turn, one final steep step, and the stairs ended at another door. Without hesitation, that door is also flung open.

The warmth and smells of a well-stocked, well-used kitchen hit her senses with such intensity, Emma almost forgot everything as her mouth watered and her stomach reminded her of her missed dinner.

A cook stood at the center counter, putting the finishing touches on what looked to be a perfect lemon cake.

"Millie!" The cook's attention shot to the intrusive duo, her country accent clinging to her words. "What took you so long? Mr. Anthony already left."

"Sorry Mrs. Cartwright, but I don't often cross-dress visiting girls."

"Excuse me," Emma tried to cut in, cheeks reddening, "let's not-"

"Waste any more time."

Chapter 11

Wind whipped through the kitchen, courtesy of the newly flung open door across the way. The dark orchard that lay beyond was obscured by the stout frame of Anthony himself. At his address, the working girl's mouth snapped shut, and even Emma withdrew a bit.

"Lord Lockhart is waiting," he continued simply, and far more evenly. "Miss Thompson, if you'd follow me, please."

"Wait," Millie stopped Emma from leaving the stairwell, blocking her way, "he's not coming?"

"Millie!" Mrs. Cartwright began to admonish, unable to finish as an immense shadow fell over the butler.

"Miss Emma!" The sweet yet powerful tone that could only belong to Edmund proceeded him as he leaned through the frame, towering over his man. Emma had to hold back a laugh with two hands as the light illuminated his ensemble.

Similar to herself, the common clothing was simple enough. But the enlarged size, large enough to billow loosely over his frame, thick suspenders, and huge black boots were so different from his usual fashionable dress that Emma had to wonder how he managed to find accouterment so quickly.

Edmund didn't seem to fare any better at her appearance, his usual broad smile was constrained into a tight-lip grin, holding back an outright laugh.

"You promised to wait," Anthony grumbled, only to be ignored by his employer.

"Well, you look..." Edmund began, studying Emma from head to toe, losing his words along the way. "What's that on your face?"

"I did her up!" Millie interjected, finally moving out of Emma's way to approach Edmund, waving to Emma to join her. "Even with the clothes, you could still tell her for a lady, so I thought to dirty her up a bit."

"You did well, Millie," Edmund praised, granting a brief smile before turning back to Emma. "Shall we go?"

Emma almost willingly went along, bewitched by both her mounting apprehension and his smile, until she remembered who that smile, and the exposed face, belonged to.

At her hesitation, Edmund raised one thick black brow, worry blooming in his eyes.

"You've done well enough to cover yourself," Emma remarked, looking from his high collar to the tip of his riding gloves, "but what about...well...you know?" She raised a finger to her face.

"Worry not!" Edmund held out a hand to Anthony, who placed a large, oval object in his palm. Affixing it to his face, Emma's giggles returned anew.

Although she had to admit, while the old, flat visard mask created an eerily worn and blank face, when Edmund flipped up the hood of his cape, he had successfully hidden every viable inch of his unnatural skin.

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