Proper Secrets by Rachel Francis

  Anne watched them in fascination, having no interest in calling attention to her observation by speaking.
    “A woman such as yourself would never abandon them in feeling, but feelings are not in the body, they are in the soul, which is at once nowhere and everywhere.   Your body need not be present for your family to know you love them,” said Jude.   Flummoxed with too many objections to make instantaneously, Emily glared at him until he laughed.
    “Do not take me too seriously, Miss Worthing.   I am a philosopher who prods every idea with great care.   All this thinking has made me peckish, however.   I shall leave you to search out my lunch.   Good day, Miss Barham, Miss Worthing,” he said.   Emily barely curtsied to see him off.   When he had gone and the sound of his horse could be heard in the distance, Emily let out a enraged shriek.   Anne laughed through her disbelief.
    “I am very glad you are the prettier, dear Emily.   If it means the attention of every cad that comes through town, positing their selfish ideas about my responsibilities, I pass on any scrap of beauty.”
    “What nerve!   I can hardly see!” huffed Emily.   It took three swift loops around Barham Park to calm her.
    “I think it is for the best if every woman in Tripton ignores Jude Annesley, especially Victoria.   From what I’ve heard, when he was disowned, the family cut him off from any fortune owed to him as the eldest son,” said Anne.
    “Mr. Edward is the younger?   That is odd.   He is much more gentlemanly,” said Emily.   They agreed, and spent the rest of the visit dissecting Jude Annesley’s moral fiber.

    Three weeks passed.   Emily and Mr. Wingrave shared the idea of avoiding another sensitive meeting, and did not join in the reciprocal visits of Peter, Bridget, Mary, and Mr. Annesley.   Jude Annesley visited Charlton one day, just long enough to make an enemy of Mr. Worthing by suggesting he hire someone to handle the farms once his title became official.   After a speech from the good Mr. Worthing, Mr. Jude did not reappear at their manor, much to Emily’s relief.   As she watched him leave, Emily took note of the Wingrave carriage approaching with Peter on horseback, trailing behind.
    “Miss Emily, I’ve come to ask a favor,” said Mary once she’d settled in the sitting room, “I’ve found an old instrument in the attic and hoped you could evaluate it for me.”   Loathe to chance seeing the master of Reddester, Emily balked.
    “Cannot Mr. Wingrave tune it?   Or at least determine its worth?”
    “He has been gone from the house of late, taking a keen interest in the intricacies of his estate, constantly galloping to this farm and that,” said Mary.
    “Very well.   When shall I come?”
    “Tomorrow, if you are not otherwise occupied.   It will be Elijah’s private instrument if it has survived storage.   He asked me to order another if it did not,” said Mary.   Peter stole Miss Wingrave away to show her the library, and the date was set.
    “I had Jacob move it in here so that you would not have to stoop in the dusty attic,” said Mary the next day.   The room was on the top floor of the house, away from the activity down below.
    “Thank you,” said Emily.   She had never been alone with Miss Wingrave, but found it a peaceful experience.   Mary had a weathered serenity that younger ladies did not possess.   The keys of the pianoforte had been cleaned, as had the bench, so Emily sat without hesitation, despite the possibility of spiders still inhabiting its depths.   She ran her fingers from the tinkling highs to the booming bass lows.   The instrument itself was loose, but not without redeeming pitch and tone.
    “Do you not play?” Emily asked as she continued her work.
    “I do, but with no expertise,” said Mary.   With a nod, Emily transitioned into the same piece she had played for her mother and Mr. Wingrave, attempting to bring back that feeling of