An American Promise (Book 2)

Chapter 26

'The course of true love never did run smooth'

-A Midsummer's Night's Dream, William Shakespeare

Max had been wandering around New York City looking for Emilia. He had no idea where she was and though he'd sent a telegram to her brother he had yet to receive a reply about her whereabouts. It was hard to find someone who didn't want to be found, especially in a city like New York.

On the fourth day of fruitless searching he returned to the small hotel he'd been staying at only to find a telegram waiting for him from his brother. Thinking it may contain Emilia's address he leapt at the chance to open it.

Nora very ill. Request to see you.

That was all. Nothing about Emilia, nothing at all to aid him. He stared at it, his jaw tight, calculating, weighing the situation.

If Nora was seriously ill and Max didn't come to her that would be nothing short of cruel and he knew he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

He thanked the clerk and went up to his room, still mulling over his dilemma. On one hand, this was the woman who had broken his engagement, made his fiancee hate him and possibly ruined his future with Emilia. He had tried, all those years ago, to help her and she had returned his offer with malice. He had done what he could for her.

Whatever happened to Nora Cadman was no longer his concern he decided. He would only focus on finding his betrothed and explaining everything. Whatever fate befell Nora was now out of his hands.

He said so in a telegram the next morning and sent it back to Boston, a look of grim determination on his face.

Emilia packed her bag and, explained to Jane that they returning to home, or whatever home they would find in Boston. She was convinced she'd never fall for the charms of men again, no matter how clever of charming they appeared to be at first glance.

It was with a lighter heart she boarded the train to Boston that evening, dressed in a fine moss green taffeta dress, her hair twisted into a messy, but elegant chignon, held in place by her favourite pearl hair pin. Her hat, the only one she'd brought from England, was white with a large feather and had a veil of lace that draped over one eye.

She wouldn't let herself admit that she'd love for Max to see her like this.

The train rolled into Boston at half past nine. Emilia disembarked, Jane's hand in one of her own, the suitcase in another, the empty hat box hanging off her arm.

She caught a cab towards her brother's inn, enjoying the familiar scenery of Boston, smiling at the familiar spots as she passed them.

New York had been all very grand but Boston made her feel at home.

Soon enough she arrived at the inn. She paid the driver and entered the inn, going up to landlady.

"Hello, is Samuel Turner in?"

"No, he left a day ago."

"What? Where'd he go?" Emilia, asked, a note of panic in her voice. The landlady shrugged noncommittally and went back to conversing with the customer.

Emilia, at a loss as for what else to do, went to Mrs. Webb's where she found her old landlady sitting in the dining room, a mug of tea in her hand, her crescent moon spectacles perched on her nose. The sight was so familiar it warmed Emilia and she smiled widely.

"Emilia! We didn't expect you back so soon," Mrs. Webb looked pleased. "I've got a letter from your mother here, it arrived the day after you left."