Page 45 of Emma & Edmund

He chuckled lowly. "Permission be damned when forgiveness is guaranteed."

"I do not feel this is wise."

"Then hold onto me," he guided her hand to the back of his shirt, where she clutched the fabric between her fingers. "And you will lead the way." His even, calm words seemed to influence the woman the same as Emma, using his own body to physically separate the two women.

"And just how will she know where to go?" Emma clipped even as she inadvertently leaned into Edmund's warmth.

"There are only so many places a straight path can go, dear," the woman clipped back.

The odd trio didn't say a word, their shoes against the hard ground the only sound between them. With the blockade of Edmund's form keeping the peace, Emma felt her anger drain with each passing step, leaving only exhaustion and distrust.

If this woman was truly the one they had been waiting for, where was that Annie? The one who had instructed them to meetherat the pub? The pieces just weren't fitting together, and it felt as if Edmund was blind to the fact.

She had been told that she, Emma, was the only one outside of Belmont's employ to ever know of him, yet he gives his trust to this stranger.

It wasn't even just his trust, but even the exact location of his hidden cabin. What would he do if this woman just ran off and told the whole of Belmont's guests - the whole town even - of him, fueled with proof? Had he lived one single evening as a semi-normal man and lost his senses?

Well, Emma decided, still clutching the soft cotton of Edmund's shirt, it would have to be her duty to make sure the woman didn't do exactly as she imagined. To hell with exhaustion, there were larger obstacles to overcome.

A twist here, a turn there, and all too soon, a fork in the road came before them.

There, they paused briefly, and when Edmund turned to face her, Emma was afforded a solitary peek at the woman in front. At the satisfied, almost smug smile she wore, staring straight back at Emma with that same eerie, glowing smile, Emma felt a surge of anger returning.

"Emma, will you be-"

"I think I would like a bit of tea," the girl said before Edmund could finish. Turning up to face him with wide, pleading eyes, she asked, "would it be all right if I joined you?"

"Of course," he answered without hesitation. Emma had to hold back a snarl when the woman barked out a laugh. As a gentleman would, Edmund also pretended not to hear the disgusting sound, leading them down the hill.

At the precise moment Emma decided she couldn't be any more apprehensive, the dim glow through the windows of Edmund's cabin pierced through the trees. While she was certain the frantic beating of her heart was loud to her ears only, the inadvertently dry gulp was certainly audible.

But as before, Edmund did not seem to share any of her hesitations.

Flinging the door open with such excitement that it slammed against the wall, Edmund wasted no time in ushering the two women in. As if she had done so a thousand times, the woman plopped down on the plush sofa with such a distinct lack of grace, Emma doubted she even bothered with the thought.

Unable to find it within herself to sit alongside her, Emma hardly entered enough for Edmund to close the door before he abandoned her by bustling to the kitchen nook. It wasn't but a moment more before the stove was lit and a kettle was put on.

With crossed arms, Emma turned to the woman. "So, what should we call you?"

"Hm," the woman hummed, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, eyes locked with Emma's. "I believe there is a more polite way to ask."

"Yet, it seems you understand the question well enough."

"Emma," the low tone of Edmund rejoined them, setting a plate on the side table, blocks of cheese haphazardly piled, "be nice. She is our guest."

"Our?" The word sounded just a tad too delighted coming from the woman’s lips. "Is this your wife?"

"No." Emma didn't allow even a breath before her clarification.

"More so," Edmund jumped in quickly, sitting in the armchair, "we're partners in solving the mystery of, well, me."

"Yes, I have heard of your plight. And what do you want to know of those girls down by the river?"

"If you give us your name, this whole conversation will be much easier."

While the woman had scoffed when Emma requested it, her hard eyes softened at Edmund's.

"You may call me Molada."

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