Emma by Rosie Clarke Page A

didn’t know how to express my feelings on paper. I couldn’t just demand that he marry me, even though he had given me his promise.
    Why had he changed his mind?
    It was quite warm now, the air rather heavy as though there might be a storm later. I felt a little sick as I walked past the tennis courts. Supposing Paul wasn’t here? I hadn’t considered that – but now I thought it might be better, less embarrassing. I could leave a message asking him to contact me.
    I was almost at the house. Ought I to go round to the main door – or the French windows Paul had used when he brought me here?
    I stopped walking as I saw the windows were open. Two women were standing just inside the house, and, as I hesitated uncertainly, they came out. I knew at once that they had seen me. It was too late to retreat. I had to go on.
    As I got nearer I saw that one of them was obviously the lady of the house and the other a servant – probably the housekeeper.
    Paul’s mother was staring at me fixedly. It had to be her! I could see a certain likeness in their features. Besides, her manner made it clear that this was her territory.
    My mouth went dry. I felt faint, my head swimming. How unfortunate that Mrs Greenslade should witness my arrival! I’d hoped the door would be answered either by Paul himself or a maid.
    Mrs Greenslade looked extremely angry. I sensed her hostility even before she spoke.
    ‘Who are you? Why have you come here?’
    I was taken aback by the ferocity of her opening words. I couldn’t answer immediately. She was formidable: a tall, thin woman with greying hair and sharp features. She was wearing a dark green gored skirt, a white linen blouse and a black fitted jacket. Her shoes were the kind of heavy lace-ups my mother wouldn’t have been seen dead in.
    ‘I …’ I took a deep breath and licked my lips nervously. ‘I’ve come to see Paul. Please – would you tell him I’m here?’
    ‘You little slut!’ Mrs Greenslade’s mouth thinned. ‘How dare you come here? I suppose you thought I believed your filthy lies about my son? Well, let me tell you, I’ve dealt with your sort before and you’ll get nothing here. I threw your letter into the fire as it deserved.’
    ‘What lies? What letter?’
    I took an involuntary step backwards as she moved threateningly towards me. What was she talking about? I hadn’t written to her or Paul.
    ‘My son isn’t here,’ she went on. ‘He’s away, but that makes no difference. If you try to blacken his name I’ll have you in court before you know where you are. And as for my son promising you a thousand pounds—’ Mrs Greenslade seemed to swell up like an angry toad. ‘I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my life. Just take yourself off and don’t try blackmailing me or my family again.’
    ‘I haven’t. I wouldn’t—’ I stared at her in dismay. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t written any letter. I just want to see Paul. He loves me. We are going to be married …’
    The words died on my lips as I saw the scorn and hatred in her face. There was no point in trying to tell this woman anything. She had obviously mistaken me for someone else, but even if she had let me speak the result would have been the same. Paul’s mother despised me for being what I was – a girl from a class lower than her own, someone who didn’t belong in a house like this. And she was right. Of course she was right. I’d known it instinctively when Paul brought me here. I could never be a part of this family and had been fooling myself to believe for one moment I could.
    I raised my head, looking at Mrs Greenslade with a quiet dignity. ‘Please tell Paul that Emma Robinson was here,’ I said. ‘I have no wish to blackmail him or anyone else – but I do wish to speak to him. It is quite important.’
    For a moment she looked uncertain, as if she realized she had made a mistake.
    ‘What did you say your name was?’
    ‘Emma Robinson.’