The Last Days of Newgate - Andrew Pepper [141]
‘No.’
She screwed up her face and gave him a quizzical stare. ‘But he’s dead,’ she repeated.
He waited for a few moments. ‘Will you marry me?’ There. He had asked the question.
‘Pardon?’ She did not seem to have understood what he had asked her.
Pyke exhaled loudly. In the silence, he could hear his own heart beating. He wanted to tell her how he felt but his willingness to do so was foundering on her apparent indifference.
‘You just asked me to marry you, didn’t you?’ she exclaimed, as though the notion were an absurd one.
‘It’s perhaps a stupid question, but do you . . .’ He couldn’t bring himself to say it.
‘Do I love you?’ Her expression softened. She even smiled a little. ‘Of course I do.’ The way she said it sounded so pained, so heartfelt, so doomed, he couldn’t help but reach out to her.
‘Perhaps I could talk to him.’ He threaded his fingers through hers.
‘Who? My father?’ She laughed in a derisive manner.
‘I can be quite persuasive.’
‘He won’t countenance it.’ She shrugged. ‘He would never relent. He detests you.’
He pretended to ponder this notion for a while. ‘But can he stop you?’
‘No, but he can disinherit me,’ she said, as though this put an end to the discussion.
Pyke nodded, as though he appreciated the problem. ‘But what if I were to confront him?’
‘For what purpose?’ Emily seemed almost irritated by such a suggestion. ‘Anyway, he’s holed up in Hambledon, protected by his own private militia. You wouldn’t get as far as the main gates.’
‘But it’s a large house. There must be other ways of getting in.’
‘There are, I suppose. But what would you say to him?’
‘I would ask him for your hand in marriage.’
That drew an incredulous laugh. ‘And you think he would readily agree to such an arrangement?’
‘Let me ask you a question. If it was not for the terms of your father’s will, would you marry me then?’
‘But that’s a hypothetical question, isn’t it?’
‘A hypothetical question?’ He tried not to appear annoyed by her answer. ‘What’s hypothetical about it?’
Emily just shrugged.
‘Then perhaps we should address the dilemma from a legal perspective.’
Emily looked at him, frowning. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Perhaps I should talk to your father’s lawyer instead.’
‘You think he’d divulge anything to you?’
‘You know him, then?’
Emily shrugged. ‘We’ve met on occasions. Gerald Atkins. He’s as mean as my father.’
Pyke wondered whether he had already said too much. Emily’s brown eyes were unreadable.
‘I don’t know,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘It all seems so hopeless.’ They stared at one another for a while.
‘Hopeless,’ he repeated listlessly.
‘But you know, it means a lot to me, that you even asked,’ she said, smiling belatedly, as though the subject were no longer worth discussing. She kissed him gently on the mouth.
Pyke wanted so badly to reciprocate, to give in to the kiss, but he managed to pull back from her embrace. In the ebbing candlelight, he could tell from her puzzled reaction that she did not know what he was thinking.
‘What is it?’ Her voice was taut with expectation.
Pyke waited for a moment. Outside on the street, a man and woman were shouting at each other. ‘But if it’s all so hopeless,’ he said, no longer trying to hide his frustration, ‘I don’t understand why you came here tonight.’
It was Emily’s turn to look confused.
‘I understand that you want what is owed to you . . .’
‘What was stolen from my mother,’ Emily said, this time with real anger in her voice.
‘Not simply for yourself but perhaps for your work,’ he agreed.
She nodded gently.
‘It is certainly hard to explain our inclinations and actions in straightforward ways.’ He hesitated and took a deep breath; he knew that now was the time to tell Emily about her mother, but at the very last moment he could not bring himself to do so. It had been his plan to tell her what he had done in order to elicit some kind of favourable response. She would want him because of what he had done. Now, though, he wanted her to want him without knowing what he had done. Perhaps it was stubbornness but dangling her