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The Scarlet Pen

By Jennifer Uhlarik

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Chapter 1
Mount Pleasant, Ohio—January 30, 1876

Away from prying eyes, Emma Draycott gripped Stephen’s hands, her stomach fluttering furiously. No sooner had the last notes of the closing hymn, “Precious Name,” faded after the Sunday service than Stephen had pulled her behind the Methodist Church building.
It was so good to have him back home—and especially with this unexpected turn.
“Of course I will.” A small laugh bubbled from her lips, but just as quickly, a shiver overtook her.
Strange. The January afternoon wasn’t that cold. She pulled one hand free and tugged her heavy shawl tighter.
Stephen’s own grin faltered. “Look at you.” He rose from the frozen ground where he’d knelt and shrugged out of his overcoat. With a flourish, he settled the woolen garment over her shoulders. “I was worried the chill might be too much, especially after you were sick so recently. We can’t have you catch your death out here, can we?” He sidled up next to her and settled his hand at the small of her back. “Why don’t we head back. Find your coat.”
Head back? Emma’s excitement drained. “My sniffles weren’t so recent.” Perhaps he’d forgotten, having been gone a week on some trip—of which she’d not yet heard the details. “Stephen, didn’t you hear what I said? We were in the middle of something.”
His slate-gray eyes narrowed, then widened, and a strange grin captured his lips. “I rather confounded that moment, didn’t I? Forgive me, love. Let me try again.”
He tugged his coat tighter about her shoulders, then folded himself back onto one knee. “Emma Draycott, will you honor me by becoming my wife?”
A thrill swirled through her until she was almost light-headed. “Yes. I would gladly become your wife.”
The muffled tittering of girls burst from the large bush at the corner of the church. Movement flashed, and two forms darted from behind the foliage and retreated down the side of the building. One was definitely Emma’s younger sister Cynthia, though she’d not seen who the second was.
Her younger brother Thomas stood, an apologetic smile on his face. “I’m sorry.” The fifteen-year-old shrugged. “We were looking at where that stray cat hid her new litter.” His grin only deepened. “We weren’t trying to eavesdrop. I promise.”
Stephen loosed a low groan and lunged up.
Emma reached for his hand, but he darted after the girl.
“Stephen! Where are you going?”
He circled past her brother and disappeared, his strides purposeful.
Emma rushed to Thomas’s side. “Stephen!”
At her sharp call, her intended turned.
“Where in heaven’s name are you going?”
“I have to stop your sister before she tells.” Expression pleading, his voice dropped to a more confidential tone. “I asked you before I sought your father’s blessing.”
Her stomach clenched. Wide-eyed, Thomas met her gaze, and they both bolted toward the front of the building.
“We have to stop her. Papa will be devastated.” Why on earth hadn’t Stephen waited? Had she known, she’d have told him to ask first. There were protocols for such things, after all. “If we can just catch her before she tells Janie and Hester Blakely, perhaps—”
Thomas gulped. “Janie was with us.”
She stopped short. Father in heaven, no. Please make them both keep their mouths shut.
Thomas reached for her arm. “C’mon, or the whole congregation will know.”
They rounded the front of the building, catching up to Stephen. As they all came to a stop, Emma peeking around Stephen’s stocky frame, Hester Blakely straightened from where she’d received the conspiratorial tidbit from Cynthia and Janie. A sly smile on her face, Hester applauded loudly, drawing the attention of the full churchyard.
Locking eyes with her best friend, Emma shook her head, though Hester wouldn’t be deterred. Not with such a juicy morsel of gossip to share.
“Congratulations are in order, everyone. Stephen Richards and Emma Draycott have become engaged to be married!”
Startled gasps and excited exclamations filled the yard, and many added their applause to Hester’s.
A sudden ringing in Emma’s ears all but drowned the happy sounds. There, on the far side of the church steps, Papa and Mama stared at her, nothing short of shock in their expressions.
Oh, she would have so much explaining to do!

[SB]
The following afternoon—January 31, 1876
“I am sorry.” Stephen Dee Richards bristled at the Draycotts’ stern looks. He folded his hands like the mindful schoolboy he’d once been. Stay calm, show Emma’s parents proper deference, and surely he’d win them over. “I did things out of order, and I apologize.”
“You most certainly did, young man.” Gray-haired Emmitt Draycott gripped the arm of his chair, his knuckles blanching. “You embarrassed my wife and me in front of the entire congregation.”
“It was an honest mistake, Papa,” Emma whispered from beside him on the settee. She reached for Stephen’s hand, her warm touch like a soothing balm. “He didn’t mean—”
“An honest mistake?” Mr. Draycott’s eyes flashed. “No, Daughter. An honest mistake is picking up the wrong stack of papers from a desk or miscalculating the fabric yardage to make a dress. This?” He leaned in and stabbed the chair’s arm with his finger, pinning Stephen with a glare. “This was a flagrant disregard of proper etiquette.”
Flagrant? Hardly! And how dare he speak so harshly to sweet Emma? A sharp retort settled on his tongue, but Emma twined her fingers in his, and a hint of her flowery scent wafted his way. His senses calmed again.
He hung his head, the sting of the words he must speak causing his gut to churn. Yet speak them, he would—for Emma. “Yes, sir. I allowed my anticipation to carry me away. I should have restrained myself.” He risked a look at the aged man. “Again, I apologize.”
Mr. Draycott’s grip on the chair loosened. “You two have courted for just over a month. It’s far too soon—”
“Not too soon, Papa.” Emma scooted forward, perching on the edge of the settee and turned an adoring, if serious, gaze Stephen’s way. The look sent a thrill through him. “Stephen and I have known each other since he moved here many years ago. Remember?”
He remembered. She’d been one of the few who’d defended him against the bullying attacks of the other, stronger schoolchildren. And she defended him still.
Again, she faced her father. “We’ve grown up together, and—”
Draycott’s jaw firm, he held up a hand.
Emma halted her justification.
“You may have been acquainted all these years, but you began courting only after reconnecting at the Christmas dance last month. In that time, you can’t know whether you are a suitable match.” His attention shifted to Stephen. “And this. . .oversight. . .of not asking us before proposing, then announcing it to everyone, is unacceptable.”
Lest Emmitt Draycott forget, he hadn’t announced it. That honor was shared by Hester, Janie, and Cynthia. But reminding the man of such facts would only inflame things more, so Stephen nodded. “How can I make this up to you?”
After a moment of silence, Draycott’s much younger wife reached for his hand. “Emmitt, I know you’re upset. We both are.” She flashed Stephen a sharp glance. “But Stephen seems truly repentant.”
“Please, Papa. . .” Emma’s voice squeaked.
Mr. Draycott bored holes through Stephen with his glare.
The silence grew unnerving. Desperate, Stephen reached into his coat and withdrew a few bills from the wad tucked against his chest. “I noticed your front gate isn’t closing properly. I’d be happy to pay to have it fixed if that would—”
Mr. Draycott shot to his feet. “You will not buy my blessing, young man—and I am shocked you think you could. We are done here. See yourself out.” He stalked from the room.
Stephen’s anger swelled like the air inside a bottle of fermenting liquid. Visions of following the man, spinning him around, and—
Emma sniffled and withdrew her lace-trimmed handkerchief. The vision fled as the blond beauty at his side dabbed her cheeks.
How dare the tyrant upset her!
Mrs. Draycott stood with a sigh. “You do realize, that was exactly the wrong thing to say.”
Stephen also stood, offering an apologetic smile. “I gathered as much. Forgive me.” Could he do nothing to please these people?
“He’s not going to let us get married, is he, Mama?”
“Truth be known, this feels very sudden to me also. However, let me speak with him. Perhaps I can quell his anger so we can revisit the topic.” Her expression grew stern. “But don’t you dare try to buy his favor again, young man.”
Stephen swallowed hard. “I understand.”
The woman turned to leave.
“Mrs. Draycott?”
She stopped in the doorway. “Yes?”
“Would it be all right if I take Emma into town?”
She hesitated, her expression firm. “I should say no, but if you’ll take Thomas and Cynthia too, I’ll agree. It will be good to have you all out of the house when I speak to Emmitt.”
Emma rushed over to kiss her mother’s cheek. “Thank you, Mama. We will. I’ll go get them now.”
“No.” She held Emma at arm’s length. “Go wait near Stephen’s buggy. I’ll send them out to you. Hurry, now.” She released her daughter and glanced at Stephen. “Be home by five, please.”
Irritation rankled, but he pushed a smile to his lips. “Yes, ma’am. And thank you.”
For the first time, Mrs. Draycott smiled back. Hardly a full-throated sign of acceptance, but perhaps a bit of softening. Although she was sending two spies to keep watch.
“Come, love.” Stephen reached for Emma’s hand. “Let’s be away before I step any deeper in the mire.” Such a blasted easy thing to do with her father’s irrational notions.
She took his hand, and once he’d laid their coats over his arm, they exited the stately home. There, his beautiful Emma fell against him, resting her blond head against his chest.
“Oh, Stephen. I’m sorry for Papa’s harsh behavior.” As her arms circled his waist, every nerve flared with delight. “Goodness knows, I love him, but when his pride is wounded, he can be almost unbearable.”
Fumbling, he draped her coat over her shoulders. “You’ve nothing to apologize for, my sweet. You’ve always been my biggest advocate, and you proved that again today.” As if he’d needed proof. Long before she ever gave him a second glance as a beau, he’d dreamed of more with her. Of moving with her far away from the wicked insults of his father. Of holding her just like this and—more. He swallowed the exciting imaginings. “If I’d done things right, this would be a day of celebration.” He kissed her hair, then stepped back and tipped her chin up. “In fact, I’m certain it will be, so let’s treat it as such. Your father is a reasonable man—and your mother a good negotiator. She’ll sway him to our side.”
“You don’t know how stubborn Papa can be.” She heaved a breath. “Since we’re going to town anyway, could we stop by the church for a few moments?”
“The church? Whatever for?” First, he was told he could only take his sweet Emma out for three hours. Then he was made to let her younger brother and sister tag along. Now this.
“I want to pray that Papa might forgive us and be reasonable about our getting married.” She gave him a sweet, if pensive, smile, eyelashes fluttering. “Please?”
Shoving aside his irritation, he pushed a smile to his lips and tapped the end of her nose. “Anything for you, my love.”

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