Emily's Choice (Rough Draft)

Chapter Three

That evening, to the disapproval of Mrs. Lawrence, Emily's father kept up a political debate throughout the meal with Sir Percival. At first, Rosalind and Emily chatted about the flowers they seen blooming, ignoring the interruptions from their aunt on the beauty of greenhouse flowers over wildflowers.

"Must you two go on about flowers and such?" Mrs. Lawrence finally demanded. "It is all you have talked of since the meal began!"

"I'm sorry, Aunt Lawrence," Emily said, unable to sound sincere. "What would you prefer we talked of?"

"Well, I believe I have not told you about the latest fashion in London this season," Mrs. Lawrence said eagerly. "I have ordered at least five gowns that should be ready for me when I return. I am told they make me look like I am a young miss having her first Season."

Both Rosalind and Emily eyed the hideous yellow dress that was even worse than the green of the previous day. "I look forward to seeing them," Emily said politely, while thinking exactly the opposite. "Father says I will have some new gowns once I am in London."

"Of course! Everyone needs a new wardrobe when they go to Town."

"You cannot be talking of gowns again, are you?" Mr. Lawrence demanded from the head of the table, distracted from his opinions. "Lord, how can you females go on about clothes when there are more important issues at hand?"

Mrs. Lawrence pouted. "Mr. Lawrence, my dear husband never objected to a discussion of the latest fashions," she said primly. "And with you and Percival talking of parliament...issues, what else are we supposed to do? Listen? That would be perfectly ridiculous."

"I don't mind listening," Rosalind said, glancing down the table. "The decisions of the parliament affect women just as much as they do men, so we should know what is being discussed and decided."

"My word! Rosalind, you have not become a bluestocking, have you?" Mrs. Lawrence demanded, in genuine horror. Embarrassed, Emily raised a hand to cover her face. "If there was ever anything my dear Aaron disliked, it was women who pretended to be intelligent. He specifically told me to never even think of things that are the concern of men."

Flushing bright red, Rosalind looked down at her plate. Sir Percival looked very bored as he continued with the discussion, Emily leaned over and murmured, just loud enough for her cousin to hear, "Funny, isn't it? Everything can be related back to what my dear Uncle Aaron never in fact said. Of course, if he had said all those things, it is no wonder he died. He didn't have time to take a breath."

Her cousin choked on her soup. "Rosalind, what is the matter with you?" Mrs. Lawrence asked sharply. "Slow down. My dear husband detested women who ate quickly."

Her declaration caused another choking fit in her niece. "I have some news," Emily spoke up before that particular avenue of conversation could go any farther. She helpfully handed her cousin a glass of water. "The owner of Waverly Place has moved back."

The glass in Mr. Lawrence's hand shattered as the older man clenched his fingers tightly. "Father!" Emily exclaimed, jumping up. She rushed around the table to check on him. "Are you all right?"

"Leave me be, girl!" Mr. Lawrence ordered, harshly. Emily recoiled, her eyes wide as she watched her father shake water and blood from his hand. He pressed a napkin against the cuts. "How can you know that Waverly Place is lived in again?"

Glancing at Rosalind uncertainly, Emily said, "Rosalind and I met him on our walk today." She turned towards her aunt. "I thought perhaps you might send an invitation tomorrow for the card party. It would be-."

"Oh, dear, no," Mrs. Lawrence gasped, interrupting her niece. Her attention was on her brother-in-law. "My dear Mr. Lawrence, you have my condolences. To have that family here once-."