An American Promise (Book 2)

Chapter 11

'It is only through labor and painful effort, by grim energy and resolute courage, that we move on to better things.'

-Theodore Roosevelt

Max, Emilia and the small group of actors arrived at James' flat near the centre of town. He let them in, shouting something to his landlady.

"Welcome to my humble abode," James lit a gaslight, placing it on a table and opening a cupboard. "Make yourself at home," he said, pulling out seven glasses and a bottle.

"You've cleaned this place up a bit," Eva remarked, pulling a chair out from the table.

The room was circular with a table and some scattered, mismatched chairs. A threadbare sofa sat in the corner next to a stack of books. The room smelt of wax and soap and all available wall space was covered with paintings.
"I try, I do," James placed the glasses and bottle on the table, proceeding to pour the brandy. "Here's to a good season!" He raised his glass and the others followed suit before gulping down the drink.

Emilia winced; she never had brandy before (it was considered a man's drink in England) and she had to admit she didn't like the taste much.

"You got yourself a fellow?" Dinah asked, holding out her glass for more.

"No," Emilia said, looking down.

"You got your eye on one?" Eva asked, her vibrantly red lips turned up at the corner.

"Not really," Emilia took another sip, trying to avoid answering. It was too late however as the blush had already made it's way into her cheeks.

"What does not really mean? I tell you, lots of fine options for you here," laughed Dinah, resting her chin in her hands.

"I'm sure, I just am not really looking for anyone," Emilia mumbled, looking anywhere but at Max and hoping he didn't know of her infatuation for his brother. The other women however, were equal to that and they laughed.

"Well good luck," Martha winked, downing another glass. "And what about you Max? You heard back from that girl? What's her name? Lucinda?"
"Lucille, and no, I have not." It was Max's turn to blush and Emilia felt bad for him; from what she gathered he was in the same position at her.

"Why not? Thought you two were already an item?"
"No, I have had not had that luck," Max said nervously, wiping his hands on his trouser leg.

"Yeah, what a pity," Eva laughed and, much to Max's visible relief, the conversation moved to other topics.

Emilia found the time went by quickly. It was a quiet evening of talking and occasional laughter, before the clock on the mantel chimed eleven. Startled, Emilia leapt to her feet.

"It's already eleven, I can't believe I stayed so late! Samuel will be worried," she said, scrambling for her bonnet.

"Here, let me come with you," Max offered.

"No no, don't be silly; I'll be fine. Thank you," she said but Max followed her.

"I wouldn't trust the people around her to behave nicely. I'll come," he persisted.

Emilia didn't argue and after they said their goodbyes and thank you's, they headed out into the night. 
"We won't be able to find a cab around here, we should walk to the main street," Max took her arm and they walked quickly down the dimly lit street.

"Wait," Emilia paused as they approached an alleyway where two figures were. One, clearly a woman, was against the wall, sobbing, trying desperately to fight off the other figure, a man.