The Music Box: Chapter Forty-Four

“And where, pray tell, have you been young lady?”

Isabelle allowed into her voice a note of disappointment, one of anger, one of near despair, let them jangle uncomfortably and wash over Emily. She was her daughter and she loved her dearly, but she had to know there were rules and responsibilities and that they meant something.

“I was at Tabitha’s, helping Mrs Tibbits with her garden,” Emily said. Her stance was one of remorse, hands clasped behind her back, a pointed toe swivelling on the kitchen floor, her eyes downcast. She raised them briefly to gauge the look on Isabelle’s face, but the mother remained inscrutable. She didn’t want to draw this out too long, but felt Emily had to feel the weight of her disappointment if she was to lean that she could not simply come and go at any hour she pleased.

“I hadn’t realised it had gotten so late, we were very close to having all the planting done and the time just flew by.”

Isabelle loved her time in the garden, so knew how easily this could happen. One minute you’re there with a row of seedlings that need some attention and a few weeds peeking through to deal with, the next thing you know you have worked your way around the entire garden bed and the afternoon has turned to evening. But the fact was, Emily must learn to take responsibility for her actions and for their consequences.

“Well that’s all very well, but your father and I have been worried about you,” Isabelle said, looking right at Emily who still avoided her mother’s eye.

“What if something had happened? And out at this time of night in such a thin dress and no woollens – I will be most surprised of you don’t come down with a cold.” Isabelle realised her own hands were shaking. To steady herself, she went over to the stove, removed the lid from the pot of the stew and began to stir. This simple domestic ritual helped calm her nerves, which were more frayed than she had realised.

“Anyway, we’ll talk more about this later. Your dinner is growing cold and I don’t want you going to bed with an empty stomach, though you should know we are quite unimpressed at you being out so late, you’ve let your father and me down.”

Isabelle knew, and suspected Emily knew, that this talk of Percy being disappointed and unimpressed was a bit of a stretch. He was unlikely to be impressed if he had realised she had been out so late and walked home by herself in the near-dark, but it’s unlikely that he had even realised. He was a good father, it’s not that he didn’t care, but when he got involved in his writings, there was little that could distract him.

Feeling she had been about as stern as she could be and still be in a state where she could face dinner, Isabelle allowed some of her usual softness to return to her voice.

“Speaking of your father, how about you go and let him know that dinner is ready?”

“Okay mother.” Emily slowly turned and began to walk to the stairs. She stopped after just a step and turned back around.

“Mother?”

“Yes Emily?”

“Please don’t stay mad at me.”

Isabelle’s heart melted, and she caught herself about to tell Emily it was all okay. But she bit her tongue and regathered her composure.

“Let’s just get dinner happening shall we, we can discuss this more once we’ve all eaten.”