Cecilia clung to her, her tears dampening Emma's shoulder. "Emma?"
"Yes?" she answered as she continued to stroke her sister's hair.
"Are we poor?"
For a moment, Emma was too stunned to respond. Then, to her own surprise, a soft laugh escaped her lips."No," she said, knowing deep down, that it was a lie. "We are fine. I have everything under control. We may not have the same luxuries as before, but we have each other. And that's worth more than all the gowns and carriages in the world."
Emma sighed, her hand continuing to stroke Cecilia's hair as her sister's breathing steadied into a slow rhythm. In the quiet of the carriage, Emma allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. She was scared too, terrified, in fact. The weight of their family's future pressed heavily on her shoulders, and the thought of failing Cecilia... of failing all of them, was a constant shadow in her mind. But she couldn't show it. Not now. Not ever. She needed to find a way to secure their finances. Whatever it took, she had to do something. For Cecilia, and for her family.
"Dorothy, give it back!" Phillip demanded. "That's mine!"
"Not if I eat it first!" Dorothy shot back, her grin widening as she pretended to take a bite from Phillip's muffin. She held it just out of his reach, her small fingers clutching the pastry like a trophy.
Emma watched them argue from her seat in the drawing room, feeling the beginnings of a headache press against her temple. The morning sunlight streaming through the windows did little to soften the chaos that was typical of their mornings. Phillip was half-standing now, his chair teetering precariously as hestretched toward Dorothy, while their father sat by the window, buried behind his newspaper as though the commotion were nothing more than background noise.
"Dorothy, stop tormenting your brother..." Emma said pinching the bridge of her nose, willing the throbbing in her head to subside even if temporarily. "... And Phillip, you should have finished your muffin at the table, during breakfast."
Cecilia, however, was uncharacteristically quiet. She sat on the settee, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her gaze fixed on the fireplace as though the flickering flames held the answers to her troubles. Her silence was so unlike her usual lively self that Emma couldn't help but glance at her every so often, her concern growing with each passing minute. She knew that Cecilia was still troubled following the event of last night, and Emma had no idea what else to do to put her mind at ease.
"I'll be heading to White's after this," Howard announced in a casual tone. "I have arranged to meet some friends to discuss a few business ventures."
Cecilia's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. "White's?" she repeated, her voice sharp.
"Yes," he said. "In the meantime, be sure to visit the modiste and get your fitting done for the new dresses. Keeping up appearances is a must."
"Papa, the last time you went to White's, we had to sell all that remained of Mama's jewels." Emma added with a sigh. "What are we selling this time?"
Howard placed the paper in his hand down. "What are you insinuating, Emma?"
Emma massaged her forehead. "I am saying that we can barely afford tea, and you are off to gamble away what little we have left."
"Emma!" Emma cautioned her, giving her a look that hinted she mellowed down.
The room fell silent and even Dorothy and Phillip paused their game, their eyes darting between Emma and their father. Emma set her mending aside, her heart sinking as she recognized the storm brewing.
Their father's face reddened, and he straightened in his chair. "I am not going to gamble, if you must know," he said in a defensive tone. "I told you, I'm meeting friends to discuss business opportunities. Opportunities that could very well help this family."
"Business opportunities?" Cecilia chimed in, her voice rising. "Or excuses to sit in a gentlemen's club and pretend everything is fine while Emma scrapes together pennies to keep this household running?"
"That's enough," Howard said in a sharp tone. "I will not be spoken to in this manner. I am doing what I can to provide for this family, and I don't need your accusations."
"Doing what you can?" Cecilia stood, her hands clenched at her sides. "What youcan dois stay here and figure out how to pay the bills instead of wasting time and money at White's! Do you even know how much Emma has been sacrificing? How much she's been doing to keep us afloat while you–"
"Cecilia!" Emma interjected, her voice sharp as she rose from her seat. She sighed, running a hand over her face. The headacheshe'd been fighting all morning was now a full-blown storm in her skull.
She stepped between her sister and their father, her hands raised as though she could physically hold back the storm."I am not trying to argue with you, Papa. If these meetings are truly about business, perhaps you could share more details with us about who you're meeting."
Their father hesitated, his jaw tightening as he looked at Emma. For a moment, it seemed as though he might argue, but then he sighed and nodded. "Very well," he said, his tone resigned. "I'm meeting with Lord Harrington and a few others to discuss potential investments. It's nothing certain, but it's worth exploring."
"That's good," Emma said. "But perhaps it would be wise to set a limit on how much you're willing to invest, or risk until we have a clearer picture of our finances. Cecilia is right to be concerned. We can't afford any missteps."
Cecilia crossed her arms, her expression still stormy, but she didn't argue further. Howard sighed again, running a hand through his graying hair. "You're right, but I won't have my own children questioning my judgment at every turn."
He paused again and placed both hands on his hips. "We would need to sell some of your jewelry. The pearls, perhaps, or the garnet necklace. They're just sitting in the drawer, unused. The funds from selling them could cover the cost of a new dress for Cecilia and also, a fraction of my business ventures."
Cecilia let out an exasperated sigh. "We are selling jewelry... again?"
"We need to keep up appearances," he rasped. "If we're seen struggling, it will only make things worse. No one will want to associate with us, let alone consider you as a potential match."
