Chapter 5: Cottage Life

Two weeks had passed, and Emelia was sitting at the table with Lucy, who was busy tearing into a crusty loaf of bread. Emelia nervously played with her slice, having no appetite as she listened intently to Lucy’s stories of the day’s duties: how to help a lady dress, run bath water for guests, and so forth. Suddenly, the distant thudding of hooves broke the domestic stillness. Emelia dropped her bread and bolted outside to see Edward galloping towards them atop his prized black stallion. As he slowed his horse to a canter, she and Lucy both bowed out of respect. “Please, rise,” Edward commanded as he gracefully dismounted his steed.

Lucy smiled knowingly as she left Edward and Emelia alone on the porch. Edward shifted uneasily and cleared his throat, “It’s been a while. How have you been?”

Even though her lips curved into a sad smile, it was impossible to miss the profound sorrow that lingered between them. “I still can’t believe she’s gone. The funeral was beautiful.”

Edward’s eyes twinkled with remembrance as he replied, “Yes, it was. I’m glad Lucy was able to accompany you there.” His voice softened, “How have you been settling in?”

Emelia’s slim shoulders rose and fell with a slight shrug. “Okay,” she said, her lips pressing into a faint smile. “I’m glad you’re here.” She kept her eyes trained on the ground, unwilling to meet his gaze.

Edward’s smile slowly faded as he spoke, his voice heavy with conflicting emotions. “I don’t think you should be.”

Emelia’s gaze slowly drifted from the soil to his face, and she felt a pang of guilt. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and his eyes were tired and sorrowful. She swallowed hard, a lump rising in her throat as she mumbled an apology, “I’m sorry.”

He sighed, his eyes studying her with a pitiful tenderness. He fiddled with his collar and tried to compose himself, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the painful memory. “Don’t be sorry,” he said quietly. “It’s not your fault. I…lost my wife, and now I have you instead.” His voice was rough as he spoke, but he managed a faint smile. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and nodded. “Even though you’re not related to me by blood, Lily considered you a daughter. And so do I – it will take me some time to get used to it.”

Emelia felt an ache in her chest as she gazed into Edward’s deep blue eyes, his sorrow palpable. She tried to offer a reluctant smile, but it was not enough to mask the sadness that had settled on her face. “I understand,” she said softly, turning away from him and looking down at her feet. Suddenly, she remembered something, causing her gaze to jolt back to Edward. She hastily went inside the cottage, rummaging through a chest of drawers until she found what she was looking for a worn leather pouch filled with many letters. She quickly ran back outside and halted just outside the door, her heart pounding as she stepped onto the porch. The pouch that held Lily’s letters seemed to weigh a thousand pounds in her hands as she walked toward Edward. It was the only thing she had left of Lily, and she carefully gave the pouch to him with trembling fingers. When their eyes met, Emelia knew he was the one who should have them. “Lily wrote these for you,” she said softly.

Edward’s face broke into a curious smile as he stared down at the pouch in his hands. He opened it and pulled out two of many cream envelopes, recognizing his late wife’s handwriting. He ran his thumb over the marking, his heart pounding as he imagined her standing there with him, reading the letters. He carefully opened the first envelope and pulled out a handwritten parchment. His gaze lingered on his wife’s elegant script, and he felt a wave of emotion wash over him. Emelia stared at him, taken aback by Edward’s display of raw emotion. He looked up at her and mouthed a silent thank you before tucking the letters into an inner pocket of his coat and returning to his horse. The sun was setting, painting the sky in vibrant oranges and pinks. Edward mounted his horse and could almost feel his wife’s voice in the cool night air as he rode off contentedly with her final letters tucked safely in his pocket.

* * *

Edward visited Emelia almost daily, bringing his son James and watching them play together in the front yard. At dinner, Emelia regaled him with stories of his late wife, Lily, bringing fresh memories and joy to his life. On each occasion, he took out a letter from Lily—saved by his side—and read it, his eyes lingering on the familiar handwriting with fondness. After four years of knowing her, he began to see Emelia as more than just Lily’s child; she was also his daughter.

He felt a sense of pride as he watched Emelia grow up over the years. She had turned 18 and was becoming an exemplary woman in no time. She diligently practiced etiquette and conversation, never missing an opportunity to improve her skills. As she formed tight stitches with a needle and thread, she also honed her archery skills with practiced accuracy.

Edward remembered when they first started learning archery. One of the Royal Guardsmen had been injured because Emelia was still mastering her technique. Edward would occasionally help her with her form and steadying her focus, but for the most part, she was determined to surpass his skill level. Whenever he visited, he found Emelia with grass stains on her trousers and dirt on her face. She was constantly practicing, with sun-drenched mornings and twilight-lit evenings in the woods - with a bow slung casually around her shoulder and a dead game animal in her hand for supper.

But this day was different. Today she was finally debuting. The sun peeked over the horizon as if to give her courage, and the grass sparkled with dewdrops, undisturbed by the gentle spring breeze. Her emerald dress clung to her curves, with an intricate black lace pattern forming a V-neckline and brown mesh layered at the skirt. The long sleeves were made of tulle and had delicate leafy designs embroidered just above her wrists, hiding her tattoo. The tea-length dress was adorned with a subtle silver chain pattern that glinted when she moved. A diamond necklace sparkled around her neck, and smaller diamond jewels pinned her hair up in a sleek updo. As she stepped out onto the cottage lawn, she felt a quiet power radiating from her.

“You look absolutely breathtaking,” Edward said, his eyes filled with admiration. He offered her his gloved hand to help her into the carriage, and she accepted. Her fingers were trembling as she gathered the heavy hem of the skirt of her gown and lifted it carefully to navigate the steps of the carriage. Once they were both inside, Edward closed the door. Emelia’s hands trembled, but she still managed to smile at him. He gently brought his hand up to touch hers, and his skin’s warmth against hers gave her a sense of calm. “Just breathe,” he whispered, “you’ll do fine.”

Emelia’s heart pounded in her chest as the carriage rocked and swayed, taking her closer and closer to the castle. She adjusted the fabric of her dress and fingered the lace trim along the collar, feeling a deep sense of anxiety beneath her skin as King Edward gave her encouraging words. “Thank you,” she replied. She was grateful that King Edward was there to help center her. As she took in the sight of the vibrant fields of flowers along the path, a thousand thoughts ran through her mind. Would she know anyone? Would they like her? Would her dress be okay? Furthermore, would she see James again? He stopped visiting months before her debut, and Emelia wondered why he refused to visit. She had so many unanswered questions.

The horses of King Edward’s royal carriage clopped up the gravel courtyard, the wheels crunching over the stones. Queen Angeline, her hair done in a beautiful bun accented with pearls, and her other noble maidens-in-waiting surrounded her in a circle. Nathan, King Edward’s loyal adviser, quickly stepped to the side of the carriage and opened the door with a flourish. “My King,” he said as he bowed slightly.

Edward climbed out of the carriage first, his feet hitting the cobblestones below as the carriage gently rocked from side to side; it was an exquisite creation, built with ancient oak and strong iron, large enough for two horses. Nathan waited with a genuine smile until Emelia was ready, then offered his arm to help her out. “Welcome back,” he said warmly.

She extended her delicate hand in Nathan’s direction, gratitude and warmth present in her voice. “Thank you.” Her gaze moved to King Edward, eyes bright with appreciation and admiration. Taking a step forward, she linked her arm to Edward’s, her posture one of respect and reverence. Together they began to move up the winding path that led to the castle’s grand entrance. As they reached Queen Angeline, Emelia dropped into a deep curtsy, head bowed low and hands clasped together in front of her, “My Queen,” she said softly.

Queen Angeline’s gaze lingered on Emelia, taking in how the emerald gown hugged her curves, how her thick ebony hair was pinned into an updo, and how her brown eyes were shimmering in the sunlight. Finally, a smile spread across the Queen’s face. “You look absolutely stunning, my dear. Come inside and meet the other young ladies before the ball starts,” she said kindly.

Edward and Emelia exchanged a knowing glance as they watched his mother’s face relax and the taut lines of her mouth soften. Impressing his mother wasn’t an easy feat, and after months of worrying, Edward and Emelia could now breathe a sigh of relief at finally getting past the first hurdle.