Elizabeth Marton

From even her first sighting of him, Elizabeth strongly despises Fitzwilliam Emmerson, the silent, surly friend of Edmund Fitzwield, owner of a nearby estate. However when things take a funny turn and something more than what Miss Marton could ever have anticipated is revealed, she begins to realize
exactly how wrongly judgemental she has been, particularly concerning Mr. Emmerson's father...

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Soon after the visitors entered the house, momentarily being vanquished from sight, there came a sharp tap at the library door. It opened, and in swept the guests.

"My lady." Said Mr. Emmerson gallantly, at the sight of his mother, bowing hastilly. The others made to follow his example, but Mrs Emmerson stopped them all with a wave of her hand. "Oh no, Fitzwilliam." she said. "I'm not royalty! There is absolutely no need for pointless grovelling."

Elizabeth decided that she liked Mrs Emmerson.

Mr. Emmerson, meanwhile, resumed his seat and Georgia ran forwards to embrace him. 

Ophelia merely scowled and crossed the room over to Miss Fitzwield, where they immediately began to gossip in hushed voices.

The guests sat down and were introduced to the Martons, whom they had never met. Georgia took to Elizabeth most instantly, but liked everyone else, so she said, just the same.

 

Once, she made to call her brother over to their corner, but thought better of it, turned to Elizabeth and whispered "Do you, by any chance, know whom it is that my brother seems so star-struck by in his letters?"

Elizabeth giggled along with her. "No, but it most certainly isn't me! Have you an idea yourself?"

Georgia shook her head. "I haven't." Then she paused as if she wanted to say more, but before she could speak, there came a loud exclamation from the other side of the room. "Good heavens, Fitzwilliam!" cried Mrs Emmerson from where she was seated, having been in an intimate discussion with Mr. Fitzwield. "Is what Edmund here says true? That you have actually fallen-" But she stopped, laughing slightly, at the look on Mr. Emmerson's face, which was as bright as a flaming beacon.

Elizabeth had a funny feeling that herself and Georgia hadn't been the only ones discussing the love life of Mr. Emmerson.

"Well you could have said whom it was in your letters!" continued Mrs Emmerson "I mean, I suspected that there was a certain someone, but I had absolutely no idea that it was... her..."

Mr. Emmerson went still redder. He was now the colour of a very ripe tomato and his blush slowly deepened at his mother's next words.

"You must love her very much."

Mr. Emmerson became very intent on the book he was 'reading.'

Mrs Emmerson sighed. "Do not speak to me then, Fitzwilliam. Always was a stubborn man... Stubborn little boy, too..."

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