It had not been hard to achieve their plan, and all it had taken in the end was a change of garments, after Rowena had been certain she’d learnt everything she needed to know in order for people not to wonder why her manner of walking and talking was different from Emma’s. Yet Emma was well aware Rowena needn’t have worried much on that account. Emma’s uncle Roland usually paid her no mind, and knew very little of her habits or favourite pastimes. And the servants in the house her uncle had rented in Normandy had not been in their service long and were little acquainted with Emma herself.
Yet as the time had come to exchange garments, and as Emma had slipped into the tattered cloak and concealing hood Rowena had handed her, a powerful sense of unease had descended upon her. This did not seem right. It was deception. And it was not that Emma was not looking forward to a new life of her own. It was just that Rowena’s bold, assured manner seemed altogether too dangerous. She’d glanced upon the way Rowena was preening in the mirror, now bedecked in the finery which had been hers. It seemed Rowena’s smile was far too bright and far too confident.
“What?” Rowena had asked with a careless smile and a shrug of her shoulders. “Don’t I look comely?”
Emma had smiled rather reluctantly.
“You look just as I do. Yet I've never called myself comely.”
“But you are so. Surely you know this! Just as comely as I am,” Rowena had cut her off, adjusting the circlet and veil and the thick fair plaits upon her shoulders.
Her hair was not as long as Emma’s. A few days before, Emma had been wise enough to trim her own hair to the same length as Rowena’s, so the servants wouldn’t later notice anything untoward, having already become accustomed to their mistress’ shorter tresses.
“Don’t you already know how fetching you look?” Rowena had gone on in the same bright, self-satisfied manner.
Emma had shrugged, because, while she supposed her looks had made her mother less displeased with her, no one apart from the nurse who’d loved her dearly or her cousin Judith had taken the time to tell her she looked pretty. So she’d never felt she had any cause to take particular pride in her looks. With or without them, her fate would have been much the same, as Lord Belfort had wed her only for the dowry she could bring and not for the looks she possessed.
“If you’re clever, you’ll have men falling at your feet in no time in this new life of yours,” Rowena said as Emma was taking off the sapphire ring she’d worn at all times.
The same feeling of unease enveloped her as she handed the ring mutely to Rowena, who took it with a glint in her eye. She watched Rowena slip it on the middle finger of her right hand.
“Hm, your fingers are slightly slimmer than mine. I suppose it’s because your hands are unused to hard work and are somewhat softer,” Rowena muttered with a frown.
They’d talked of it before, as Rowena’s hands were indeed rougher than Emma’s. Yet as no one in her household ever paid much mind to Emma, this was not a thing which would give them away.
“Well,” Emma said with a chill in her spine. “I suppose this is it and, once we’ve done it, there will be no return. Are you certain this is what you wish for? You could also come away. I’ve coin enough and—”
“Wouldn’t your uncle be looking for you if both of us go?” Rowena pointed out levelly.
“Aye, but it doesn’t mean he should find either of us,” Emma countered.
Rowena shook her head with the same bright, unconcerned smile as before.
“I like this new life of mine. Just as much as you’ll like yours, I reckon. Although…”
Rowena’s eyes suddenly became cold and calculating, and Emma’s unease grew. In the last days she’d gotten to know Rowena. Rowena was clever and charming and capable and bold. Yet Emma had begun to see Rowena did not harbour any kind of anguish or uncertainty regarding her future fate. Was it right to look upon one’s future which such confidence? And wouldn’t Rowena be bitterly disappointed when she found out her life was just as Emma had warned her it would be? Emma had tried to reason with Rowena about the dangers of the trade they were making, yet Rowena seemed recklessly confident of her future luck, and far too keen on the riches she believed were in store for her. And now it seemed she was more than pleased with Emma’s ring and finery. Far too pleased, forgetting what she was trading for them.Her freedom. But the hesitant words Emma had just heard made her hope that perchance now, at the very last, Rowena was reconsidering their plan.
“Have your thoughts become aligned with mine? Don't you at last think it would better for us both to flee this place?” Emma asked urgently.
Yet Rowena shook her head with a careless wave of her hand.
“Oh, never mind what I said, I suppose you’ll get to see for yourself,” she muttered, causing Emma to furrow her brow.
“See for myself? See what?” Emma inquired.
“Oh, nothing. Just this new life of yours,” Rowena replied, and her smile appeared downright malicious for a fleeting moment.
Emma supposed her own anguish was deceiving her. Rowena’s smile became bright and self-satisfied again, as she took hold of Emma’s cloak and hood, arranging them in such a way so that the servants seeing Emma leave the lady’s chamber would assume she was only the vexing pauper upon whom their lady had taken a fancy, who had called of late upon their house, and who had to come to beg for more coin at this time.
“There,” Rowena said tersely. “All done. And now we’ll part.”
Emma opened her mouth to speak, yet Rowena shushed her.
“Quiet. I hear somebody at the door.”
It turned out there was no one, but Rowena swiftly ushered Emma out of the chambers.
“Be gone now, woman. And never come back!” she called out in a high voice, and Emma supposed she’d done so because she knew the servants might hear her.