Chapter 4 Letters and Tea

A week had passed since the party and all Emily could think of was her pleasant conversation with Sutcliffe. She had never met a man as charming as he but something about his manner also made her cautious to come in contact with him again. There was something dangerous about him but thinking about Sutcliffe only made her even more anxious about something in her heart she knew she could not have. Emily snapped out of herself, knowing that she also had a fragile mind after what had happened to her years ago did not help her ease her spirits. She took a deep breath and sighed heavily.

There was nothing to it, she thought, there is nothing between us, she added. As hard as she tried to convince herself she merely kept this thought at bay.

That morning she did not perform her usual routine of fixing herself a cup of coffee, instead, she took a croissant from the basket that came in from the local bakery. After consuming her bread, she poured herself a cup of water from the faucet of the kitchen and made her way to the study. Emily had her letter written to Elizabeth all written down, and she took this letter out to review her words carefully, no blemishes or corrections done but just perfect enough to be told in generalities as to how her life had been in Mortimer House so far. The letter read as written;

Dear Liz,

I'd like to start this letter by saying I'm sorry I couldn't write sooner, by the time I arrived here I was exhausted. Don't worry, the children John and Mildred are quite charming but I could not help but find the place eerie and foreboding. The outside of the house looks like it had never been coated with any paint, just stone, and the doorknocker is in the shape of a raccoon. The parents remind me slightly of ours but stranger, he holds her hand as if she were a piece of glass that would break if he'd apply more pressure on her fingers. There are no people my age, and there are no other children for John and Mildred to play with. Most of the people here are senior couples who decided to retire and live the rest of their lives in the valley. I suppose anyone would like to live the last remaining days of their lives peacefully.

She did not mention the party nor Sutcliffe in any way so the letter had been shorter than she had expected it to be, now all she had to do was mail it to the post office in town.

Emily might have gotten used to the eccentricities of the Mortimers but she had no idea how to navigate the town without any assistance. Cecille was too old, and outside of her the Mortimers mainly kept to themselves so the house servants they did have were just as strange and eccentric as they were seeing as none of them were willing to show her the way at first. There was not a lot to do but to ask the house servants again if they could show her the way to the post office and finally, one of them obliged and sketched out a map of the nearby town where the post office was.

When her day off came, Emily was both terrified and excited at the prospect of finally traveling to the town, it was a fogless morning and that was what reassured her that she could travel. The town was within walking distance, so she decided that it might as well take her time walking. The letter was to be posted with swiftness and once her eyes found the post office nearby the fountain and beside the local bank, she picked up the pace of her walking,

Inside, she met the postman in charge of posting, she smiled and the elderly gentleman smiled back. Emily handed over her letter with the receiver's address written on it as well as the return address in Mortimer House.

"Thank you," she told the elderly man and fished out her purse from her handbag.

She paid the 3 cents it had cost her for postage stamps and delivery service and walked out of the building just as quickly as she had entered it.

Emily did not waste any time dilly-dallying by window shopping knowing that she just had to get to the local tea parlor. She had missed tea once coffee had made her anxious, making her hands shake due to the amount of caffeine she had been taking. Once she found the tea parlor, she seated herself by the window at the very end of the room and inhaled the air that smelled of jaffa cakes and macaroons and other cakes she could not name. She had looked over the menu and ordered the Middleton Valley sub sandwich which she had heard from Camille was a favorite among the locals, jasmine tea with milk and three macaroons, and a jaffa cake. That should keep her full until mid-afternoon. The waiter obliged and told her that her order was to be served within ten to fifteen minutes.

Her thoughts took over her, and her mind went over to her sister Elizabeth wondering what her reaction was going to be once she read the letter. Was I being too vague? Was my letter either too formal or generalized? She asked herself these questions alternating between getting rid of the thought and keeping it to keep her busy with the other things on her mind. Emily glanced outside the tea parlor only to be met with trousers and a short tailcoat when her eyes reached his face, she was greeted by steel-blue eyes and a shrug. Sutcliffe, she thought and without meaning to her heart skipped a beat while he motioned to her if it would be alright to join in. She got up from her table and signaled for him to enter the tea parlor, and he obliges her.

"Ms. Blakewell," he said greeting her.

"Mr. Sutcliffe, I wasn't expecting to see you here," Emily said.

"I wasn't expecting myself in here either," he said with good humor, "but here I am now."

She laughed despite trying to suppress it.

"You didn't expect me to be ill-mannered did you?"

"Oh no, that's not it." He replied, looking down at his feet.

"I see, you're wondering how a governess could afford such a fancy place?" Emily asked as she met his eyes. "Well, it's not only the Mortimers who are well-off you know," she added.

"If you're well-off why take the position of a governess?" Asked Sutcliffe. "Why bother working at all?"

She looked away from him, and a silence came over them. Emily was at least thankful that there were no other patrons in sight to witness her melancholy gaze.

"I didn't mean to offend Ms. Blakewell," said Sutcliffe.

"It's too personal for now Mr. Sutcliffe, perhaps one day I'll tell you what's behind my decisions." Her eyes still did not look up to his, she was too embarrassed once her family was given the news, and she did not want that same feeling to wash over her now in front of someone who she found worthy of admiration and respect.

When her orders arrived it embarrassed her that she had ordered too much for just one person. Emily looked down at her feet in shame but with a smile forming on her lips. Again she could feel Sutcliffe's kindly gaze.

"You clearly haven't eaten yet," Sutcliffe said, breaking the silence between them.

"That's true," replied Emily as she prepared to munch on the sub sandwich.

She was not always Miss Proper, she could be mischievous too even without meaning to be.

With the waiter still placing her orders, Sutcliffe cleared his throat.

"Black tea with toasted eggs," he ordered.

"Right away sir," said the waiter who left once he finished with Emily's orders.

Emily's eyes met Sutcliffe's for the second time, his eyes made her uncomfortable gazing at them now there was a burning in his eyes that made the blue of his eyes even more unmistakably painstaking to watch. She looked away and chose to take a piece of her macaroons and bite on it. She was always fond of sweets and macaroons were no exception, she noticed Sutcliffe's eyes on her again as if he would not let go of her until his eyes were in contact with hers.

"I'm fond of you." He said, again breaking the silence between them.

"I can't see why," replied Emily, finally gazing up into his eyes. "I'm not like my sister, and you're not really fond of me as you think you are."

"Is that you're way of convincing me of your unattractiveness?" Asked Sutcliffe with a chuckle. "My dear, you would have to try harder than that."

"I was being serious," replied Emily again. "You're too...yourself and I am me."

Emily had grown up wondering if she would ever be swept off her feet by a man and when he finally showed up she attempts to stop it by looking down on herself. It had never been a good idea, why did Elizabeth deserve to be swept off her feet by a man and she did not? What made her think so? Was Elizabeth more deserving of such an honor and she was not? She had several missteps along the way as she tried her best to go through with it. Obviously, by the time she was twenty-one and had failed her teacher's license exam she was heartbroken, and it had taken her years to recover. Now that she had recovered, she's immediately thrust into an unplanned table conversation with the mysterious and cryptic man in front of her. She did not love him, how could she while having only met him? She did find him attractive but that was not the reason to immediately throw herself at him.

Silence came over them once again, and Emily wondered if Sutcliffe had the same thing in mind as her 'I'm fond of you' he had said to her and what else could she say to that? 'I'm sorry but no' that would be rude to him, she wanted to let him down gently but how? Had the timing and the circumstances been better for her she would have answered differently but would she even have met Sutcliffe had she been the daughter her parents always wanted? Emily was sure that she would have been married with children by now had she not wasted most of her twenties.

"Hello," said Sutcliffe's low voice, "are you there?"

When she once again looked up to meet his eyes, the burning blue had left, instead, it was replaced by laughter and warmth, something that was missing from most people these days or so she thought. A small smile formed on her lips but it did not last long. Sutcliffe tried to remedy this by trying to steal her sandwich which in return made her laugh. She had never laughed out loud in quite a long time, still, she was thankful that it was only Sutcliffe and no one else in the parlor. Emily was easily embarrassed and for a day of awkward meetings and interactions with the one person whom she seemed to like in the valley outside of the eccentric Mortimers.

"Your orders sir."

Her thoughts were once again interrupted by an outsider, meaning outside of her own mind. Emily was glad to be interrupted, she felt that she had spent too much time in her own head she would otherwise forget how to interact with others on the outside.

Once the waiter left, Sutcliffe immediately took his cup of tea and took a sip. Was the tea too warm or too cold for him? She could never tell with him, he was like a mythical creature whose weaknesses and strengths were unknown to her, and she had read a great deal of mythology over the years.

"Ms. Blakewell, were you waiting for someone?" asked Sutcliffe softly.

"Emily, you may call me Emily," said she, not yet giving a reply to his question.

"And you may call me Nicholas," he replied, "or Nick whichever you prefer." and paused and asked once again. "Were you waiting for someone, Emily?"

"No, I was waiting for no one."

She could see where this was going, but she kept up the façade of not knowing since she herself was just as interested. Emily was by no means trying to catfish him, she was, after all, sitting opposite him and she was terrified and glad at the same time that someone; a man would be 'fond' of her.

"Would you like for someone to wait for you?" He asked, unphased and unnerved.

"Perhaps one day."