Page 61 of Emma & Edmund

Still stunned into silence, Jonathan only managed a curt nod around his open-mouth gape. He seemed trapped somewhere between dignified fury at her outburst and relief over someone else taking charge.

"Good," Emma said curtly, adjusting the shawl over her shoulders, clutching the ends of the tassels. Lord help her if she was mistaken, or if one of the ongoing gusts blew the wood scrap into the wrong path.

Glancing down the darkened trail once more, she took a deep breath, letting the wet air fill her lungs. There was no other option than to trust Edmund, trust he wouldn't let her go astray. That he wouldn't let the wind misguide her, that he wouldn't let her pick up on the wrong sign. He was there, somewhere in the trees, making sure she would be okay.

And William and Jonathan, she supposed. By association only, perhaps, but still true all the same.

Squaring her shoulder, Emma started down the path. The crunch of leaves from behind her signaled the men's obedience, but she couldn't have been certain if the sigh released from her lungs was from relief or trepidation. A bit of both, perhaps.

The further they walked, the more the forest began to close in around them. Spindly thin trees dotted the path, which proved difficult to dodge with the path itself steadily narrowing. If it continued, it wouldn't be long until it was pinched into oblivion, overrun by the greedy branches and brush.

Emma almost didn't notice when her shoe kicked some debris on the ground. After all, the path was quite literally littered with woodland waste, and it was not the first instance of bits sticking to her slipper and flinging off into the distance.

It was, however, the first time that it flung off and stuck to the wispy tall grass like a burr. Seeing its thin brown curly form, Emma could have cried.

Another wood chip, another breadcrumb leading her.

They were going the right way. Edmund did not allow her to be lost.

Barreling on with renewed confidence, Emma ignored when the men behind her bemoaned over how long it was taking, how cold it was getting, and how much more lost they felt now. She didn't bother to retort or defend; her words would have been wasted on ignorant ears.

A light rain began to mist, the drops angling themself just enough to surpass the brim of her hat and splat endlessly over her cheeks, forming a film of wetness almost immediately. A crack of lightning shot in the distance, making Emma jump with the shock of it, her gasp drowned out by the booming thunder that shook the ground under her feet.

But she wasn't gasping from fear or surprise. There was a far greater reason when she could watch the whole bolt, thick and bright, shoot from the heavens and pierce the ground without much barrier. The green, vast, and slightly smoldering lawn stretched to a budding garden, backing a familiar estate.

Finally, they found Belmont.

"Oh, thank Heaven above," Jonathan blurted, pushing past his sister, bursting onto the grass as if there was limited time for escape. Raising his arms to the aforementioned heavens, embracing the open air, Emma watched his coat quickly soak up the rain.

She couldn't quite bring herself to blame him either, a similar overwhelming relief bubbled in her chest. If she weren't so fed up with him, she could have joined him.

"How did you know, Emma?" William met her at the almost-invisible head of the trail. "I never would have thought you a navigator."

"Anyone can be lucky, I suppose," Emma answered with a shrug. Her heart might be full of gratitude for Edmund's help, but she felt no need to share any of it with Mr. Tate. Let him wonder.

"Gracious!" Jonathan yelled, having wandered to the smoking bit of grass. Emma couldn't see from her position, but the lightning's target had the older Thompson sibling peering into the ground, hands shoved into his pockets. "Both of you, come look."

Flashing her a final grateful smile, William trotted to the small crater. Had the ground been dry as a bone, no doubt a fire would have started, but the drenched dirt was already beginning to extinguish the smoking veins left behind.

She thought of joining them but decided that the warmth and lights of Belmont were far more preferable when the rain decided misting just wasn't enough, throwing fat drops from its ever-darkening clouds. She couldn't begin to describe how little she cared if the men decided to follow or not.

Emma had already taken a step or two into the field, eyes on the bright windows of the estate, when the wind whistled in a peculiar, high-pitched way. She had spent hours in the forest by that point and never heard anything so intentional.

Her eyes shot back to the wood's edge, fully expecting to see Edmund burst from the foliage. He had become quite bold, daring a trip to town, bringing the witch into his home, and talking with her only a short pace away from others. A natural next step would be to just reveal himself in full.

Instead, there was nothing but a forest wall, free of any signs of her green secret. The leaves struggled to stay on their branches in the wind, betraying nothing within their folds.

She almost turned back around to dash to the house, halting only when a splotch on the grass caught her attention. The brown shape hid its distinct features in the tall whisps, but when Emma crouched to examine it, the smile that burst over her cheeks hurt with the sudden force.

The little wood piece fit perfectly in the palm of her hand. Unfinished and unsanded, with sharp edges and uneven ends, the dipped neck and slender body were unmistakably a doe, as if drinking from a stream.

She didn't need to see Edmund to know that the adorable, delicate creature was a gift made from his hand.

Chapter 17

Emma's attraction to William Tate had finally died in the woods. She knew it fully, sitting before the vanity mirror a few days later, readying herself for what promised to be an eventful evening.

When they had finally returned to Belmont that day, soaked to the bone, she gave barely three words of goodbye to the men before practically running to her room. Her wonderful maid didn't even need to ask a single question, undressing her from the cold clothes that clung to her skin, arranging for a warm bath within moments.

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