The old man said Byron Glocheshire came from somewhere not quite far.

He told Ellie that the man was ambitious and that he was after her estate to utilize it for his illegal activities.

"He is the enemy of our nation," he had told her.

What could a man want from an old mansion? There were others more suitable for what he intended to do, for sure.

Byron Glocheshire accepted her invitation to remain with some other guests for a long weekend. They would have games the entire day and parties every night.

She gave him one of her best rooms.

This would be a fun weekend.

*****

The Town Herald published another article written by one of its renowned writers, praising Above and Below. Apart from claiming that both and the play were written in perfection, it also praised the play's main actors, Stella Marie and Jordan Smith. It discussed the history of both actors.

Stella had been playing small roles in previous plays, but Above and Below was her first major one and it showcased her great talent. As the writer claimed it, Stella Marie brought out the best of the play and the play bore the Town an amazing, promising actress.

As to Jordan Smith, his name was as famous as many lords around the Town. Once an actor who was at the top of his career, Jordan fell as fast as he rose merely a few years past. He began to disobey orders from directors, often changing lines and scenes on the spot—and most often ruin them—until eventually no one would want to take him in. He was amongst the Town's greatest disappointments, but now he was back and the townspeople were gladly giving him a chance. He had not merely been acting his best, he was also delivering his lines in such ways that made men frown with envy and women swoon with dreamy sighs.

Apart from the play, the writer also gave credit to the amazing magical effects of lights and mirrors. As much as he was astonished, he was also disappointed that the play's director had remained anonymous. None of the crew or actors would dare slip the identity. Jordan Smith even once claimed that he would rather have his fame be taken away from him again than betray P. Wallace, the only name the writer-director was known for.

The play did not merely give the townspeople a glimpse of what might be above, but it also brought to life the stage itself with the genius tricks that only an equally genius mind and talent could pull off.

Yet, despite the article, Samuel remained indignant that the play was naught but an impossible love story being sold to dreamers and that he had seen other far more superior romantic plays.

In fact, it was during their picnic that he promised Emma to take her to one.

As Lindsay ran around the grassy ground in the woods, Samuel told her, "Below the Stairs has a more realistic story line, Em. You ought to see it. It shows the contrast of our realities—of a servant and her master. It stirs questions of how things would be so different if social status is nonexistent."

Victoria excused herself from the picnic to run after her daughter.

"The love story between the two main characters is much more relatable as well. No fancy lights and dramatic words. They are real."

"I heard they did not end up together, Sam," Emma said with a chuckle. "We women want our love stories to end happily."

"Above and Below did not offer such happy ending."

"But it did provide a promising one—a hopeful one. And we all hope for something, do we not? You do, too," countered Emma. She veered her eyes to Victoria and Lindsay who were now tugging at each other to go to two different directions. "Oh, look at them," she said, chuckling.

Samuel looked over his shoulder at Lindsay and smiled. "Who would have thought she would be an unstoppable force?"

"Oh! I ought to have brought Levi!" her sister-in-law complained as she dragged Lindsay back to their table.

Samuel chuckled and looked at Lindsay's dejected state. He offered his hand and asked, "I may not be your father, darling, but I am good at any game."

Lindsay's blue-grey eyes sparkled and she turned to her mother for approval. Victoria could not help but smile and nod. Samuel stood and grabbed Lindsay by the hand and the two of them took off to play whatever game Lindsay had in mind.

Emma and Victoria looked on, absently smiling.

But merely less than a minute later, her thoughts drifted from Samuel to Wynne Hastings. And she wondered if Samuel knew of Wynne's involvement with Above and Below. Yet she could not ask the question because he would want to know how she knew.

No, he cannot surely know, Emma thought to herself. If he did, he would not openly show his distaste of the book and the play knowing it was a friend's masterpiece.

"He will be a good father," commented Victoria. Emma turned to her sister-in-law with a small smile. "That is, if he ever finds the time."

"I am certain he will," Emma said. "He finds time for Emerald."

"Oh, speaking of Emerald—will Maxine and Max be coming to Wickhurst anytime soon?"

"They might," Emma said. "They do try to come by as often as they could. Samuel visits his sister and niece whenever he can. Would you like to pass on a message?"

"Oh, bother not," Victoria said with a wave of her hand. "Margaret mentioned we can find time to visit Kenward. I was just wondering if you would like to come along?"

"Oh. I would not want to leave mother alone. And I do have—" Well, what did she have? She had no schedule of anything whatsoever. She could surely come along. But she did not want to. Emma found that she wanted to be alone for a while. "Well, I do have matters to attend to in the manor. Mother is giving me more responsibilities in the household. She claims that she is training me for marriage life."

"I never had any training and I managed."

"Well, you know mother."

Victoria chuckled. "Of course. Don't we all?"

They fell silent and Lindsay's laughter filled the air. Samuel fell on his back and was pretending to be hurt. Lindsay immediately stopped and went to him, worried. And then he jumped to his feet and ran all the way to the nearest tree, winning the race.

"Oh, what a cheat!" Emma and Victoria screamed as Lindsay jumped on Samuel, hitting him with a fist. "That's my girl!" both ladies shouted with laughter.

*****

She did not expect Samuel to fulfill his promise to take her to see Below the Stairs, but he did as soon as he had the chance. Merely three days after their picnic with Victoria and Lindsay, Samuel informed her of the reservations he made for the said play.

"They are far superior," he whispered beside her as the actors' singing echoed around the opera. Emma scanned the place with her eyes, noting the difference between this play and Above and Below. This place exuded elegance. The seats were far more comfortable and the crowd was too quiet, paying respect to the play.

Above and Below on the other hand was the total opposite. It was being played in a tent, the seats without cushions and the crowd uncontrollable with their reactions.

Yes, it was different, but it was the kind of different that she had expected Samuel to also embrace. Was he not fighting for change? Above and Below might not offer the change Samuel had in mind, but it was a change and it was being accepted.

It did not bother her that she now knew the identity of P. Wallace, or that Wynne was a sketchy character, because despite that Above and Below was perfect in itself and the play was even better. Wynne—or P. Wallace or whoever he truly was—gave justice to his vast imagination. To everyone's imagination, in fact.

She stole Samuel a glance. It took a lot of effort for him to take her here in such short notice.

Emma then realized that he wanted this so badly. Not the play, but the chance to prove to her that something was better than Above and Below.

In the darkness of the opera, Samuel reached for her gloved hand. Emma allowed him as she was used to this affectionate act. Even before what happened to them, she had always allowed an extra bit of physical exchange with Samuel for it was comfortable. She knew he would not take advantage. She knew he meant well.

She had seen her siblings being comfortable around their wives and husbands. They told them everything on their minds down to the grimiest things without second thoughts. Emma felt she could do that as well with Samuel.

He accepted her flaws and she could ignore his as well. She spoke her mind with confidence without expecting him to agree. He often did the same. They would debate about it, but they enjoyed it.

It was because they were comfortable with each other. She could not recall how it started, but it probably simply developed throughout the years.

But should comfortable be enough?

*****

Emma, Alex and Ysabella came to see Above and Below together merely a few days after Emma and Samuel watched Below the Stairs.

She chose to not invite him as he was preoccupied with countless articles that were suddenly assigned to him by the Herald. In fact, she quite agreed that such articles entirely not related to Noah Trilby were being pushed toward him so he would not have enough time to write his own pieces. She could see that Samuel was starting to become frustrated and she felt that he was being indirectly controlled by whoever was behind this, probably Noah Trilby himself.

Taking her mind off Samuel and the challenges in his career, Emma decided to keep Alex and Ysabella company when they invited her to Ulric. But this time, her attention was divided between the play and Wynne Hastings.

Her eyes would often wander to the man who was seated to the far right of the stage, still in front of the audience. She was confident he did not see them but when the interlude began and Alex and Ysabella stood to stretch their legs, so did Wynne.

He turned and his eyes landed on Alex and Ysabella.

"Lord Hastings!" Ysabella said, calling out to him with a wave of her hand. "Emma, Ysa, look! It's Wynne."

Emma sighed and slowly stood. "Of course, it is Wynne," she grumbled under her breath.

Wynne came over and bowed slightly before them.

"I dinna expect te see ye 'ere, milord," said Alex, giving the man a smile and a pat on the shoulder. Quite uncommon for a lady to do, but Alex was no ordinary woman. She was an ex-bandit married to a lord.

"Well, I am here," Wynne said, his eyes meeting Emma. "You must have enjoyed the first time you came to watch, Emma, that you are here once more."

"Yes, of course," she said, turning to Alex and Ysabella. "Are we not going outside?"

Taking that as a sign to leave, Wynne stepped back and awkwardly said, "Please enjoy the rest of the show."

"We already do!" chimed Ysabella. "But by the by, do you often come here, Wynne? I heard Samuel is not fond of this play. Am I right, Em?" When Emma nodded, Ysabella continued, saying, "I also assumed you mirror his opinion."

"We are friends and we do offer our services to the same institution," said Wynne, "but we have separate minds and tastes, my lady."

"Well, 'cors ye do, guv," Alex said, looking at Wynne up and down. "Yer coats fer one, aye?"

Wynne merely chuckled.

"Ah, 'fore I forget, milord," said Alex while Ysabella and Emma began to move along the aisle along with other guests, "Ralph and I are plannin' a dinner fer family and friends. Consider yerself invited."

"Oh, but I do not think—"

"Yer goin'," were Alex's authoritative words. "Ye saved me life once and I owe it te ye."

Wynne hesitated and Emma refused to even support Alex's invitation. As much as she was curious about the man, she was not certain she could handle herself well if they were surrounded by family and friends.

"Samuel will also be there," said Ysabella, unknowingly betraying Emma. "Please, come along and support him." Leaning close to Wynne, she whispered, "As of late, Ralph seems to see him as naught but a practice shooting target. Your presence could lighten the mood."

Wynne's eyes widened. "I am the least person you should expect to lighten the mood, my lady."

"Ysabella, please, Wynne. Just Ysabella. And yes, of course, you can help lighten the mood. Simply bring along some funny stories."

"It's settled then," Alex said, patting Wynne on the shoulder once again. "Yer goin' te our dinner. Ye'll like me cousins. Me 'Pa as well!"

"They are interesting individuals, Wynne," Ysabella whispered conspiratorially. "You will love to meet them as a writer!"

Wynne sighed with resignation. "Very well," he said with a slight bow. "I shall be there."

"Good, guv!"

"See you, then!" said Ysabella, tugging Emma by the hand to proceed to the exit.

Emma belatedly gave Wynne a curtsy and hurried along with her sisters.

Bloody hell!

*****

The family dinner Alex and Ralph prepared was not like any others.

It was filled with laughter and foolishness—perhaps it might also have included a few illegal activities by Ned and Barto, Alex's cousins, who may have stolen a few silverwares. But the two bandits were not apprehended as they did their other task well which was to look after the children inside the drawing room.

Gustav, Alex's father, and Lady Alice had been fast friends since the marriage and were talking about Gustav's many adventures in the past when everyone crowded in the parlor, children-free.

Samuel was in one corner with Cole Devitt, Margaret's husband, talking about the slavery case Cole was still struggling to fight with. Wynne chose to sit with Ralph and the other men. He did not wish to be with Samuel as he knew too well the topic he was discussing with Cole Devitt. As a matter-of-fact, he was more comfortable sitting with the other Everards as they talked about Wakefield's crop problems and the recent hunting season.

He did not have to say a word for if asked, he would simply say he did not deal with crops and he did not hunt. They knew him well enough now to even bother. They must have eventually accepted his role as a bloody mute occupying a spare chair.

The ladies were huddled together in one corner, quietly talking and laughing.

Emma had not addressed him during a conversation all throughout dinner. In fact, she had not spared him a glance since she had to greet him earlier upon his arrival. She was always with Ysabella or Samuel.

She must now be confused on how to deal with him. She knew he was the gossip writer. He wondered what she could be thinking.

As Wakefield reopened the topic of the men going to Kenward next week to visit Maxwell, the third brother, Wynne excused himself. It would be such a great inconvenience to be invited. His aunt would be greatly disappointed if she found out he had been passing chances to be with the Everards, but he had other priorities.

So long as Amelia knew he was doing something, that ought to be enough. And so long as he could monitor Samuel's movements and report any suspicious ones to the family, Wynne was planning to do his own thing. As to the matter concerning Emma, he had to take it slow.

Wynne walked to refill his glass by the liquor cabinet, his thoughts drifted back to the play. Jordan Smith was showing signs of haughtiness again. Something ought to be done about it before the bastard could ruin his reputation again—and ruin the play with it.

"I am glad you are no longer delivering gifts." Emma's voice startled him.

She was standing too close and her words were merely said in whisper. She reached for the bottle of sherry and poured herself a drink without looking at him.

"No one can be as glad as I am," he murmured back. "Sam seems to be keeping his promises of late, I see?"

She nodded, finally looking at him.

Good God, it was true. The Everards had the most amazing green eyes.

"That is good then," he said. "He must have realized other people do have more important matters to attend to other than delivering gifts," he said in jest.

Her lips curled into a smile.

Samuel found himself a good woman, Wynne thought. Too good for him, in fact, added another part of him. Emma Everard would never shine if she were with Samuel. She would merely be a shadow of the man who fought for the Town. She may enjoy Samuel, but Wynne doubted Emma would want the attention. Her every step would be watched by the townspeople for they would look at her as the prime example of Samuel's ideals. Her husband would fight for the people's freedom of expression and choice, but her life would never have that for people would judge her with her husband as their standard.

Samuel may not realize the consequences Emma—or even his family—would pay for his reputation, but Wynne knew that Emma was not stupid enough to realize them soon. Could it be the reason why she requested for their engagement be private for a while? Was she weighing things?

"I would hate to take you away from your precious activities," she said, giving much emphasis on the last word.

Wynne frowned. Did she mean his activities as the gossip writer? "Of course," he replied, "As a writer for the Herald, I do have my priorities." As he said the words, he was silently willing her to tell him what she knew.

There was a silent game going on between them. They knew they were playing it, but neither seemed too keen to let the other know they were winning.

"No, Wynne," she said, looking into his eyes, "I meant your other activities."

Wynne's brows rose. He narrowed her eyes at her, pretending to struggle with what she was trying to imply.

She blinked and her smile widened. "I do not mean about you being the gossip writer, of course," she said under her breath. "I already know that you know."

"And I am aware that you know I am aware of that fact," he responded instantly. "You must be talking about the other, other activity."

Her green globes widened in mock surprise. "I am amazed. How did you know I found out?"

Wynne rolled his eyes, scoffed and shook his head with a smile. He slowly sipped his drink, swallowed and allowed a few more seconds before saying, "You ought not to have worn yellow. It makes one glow even on horseback."

He nearly jumped in triumph when he saw her stunned look.

Ha! She did not expect to be discovered.

Both of them turned to look when laughter erupted behind them. Samuel and Cole Devitt had now joined the other men who were now listening to Gustav tell them about how Ralph almost fainted during the bandit wedding ceremony.

"Nae, he didn't!" cried Alex from across the room. "He almost did when we arrived in Meriwether after elopin' te Tiny Town!"

That caused another round of laughter.

Wynne stole Emma a glance and pondered on his next words. Perhaps it was time to take a bolder step.

"Would you like to see the rehearsal some other time?" Wynne murmured to Emma. "We only offer it to our loyal fanatics, of course. And those who can keep P. Wallace's identity secret."

Interest glimmered in Emma's eyes along with excitement Wynne was certain she was trying to suppress. "You lot seems you belong to a dangerous society I am not comfortable with. I am not certain I ought to accept the invitation."

"Hmm," said Wynne after drinking from his glass. "We do magic tricks. Yes, I assume we are indeed dangerous."

She was quiet for a while and he was afraid they would soon have to part. They had been in the same spot too long. But her next question almost made him burst out in laughter. "Will I have the opportunity to have my copy of the book signed by you?"

Wynne suppressed the laughter by clearing his throat. "I will have to practice my signature."

"And of the entire cast as well," she added, trying to sound nonchalant, drinking her sherry.

"That can also be arranged."

"When will your next session be?"

"We practice daily."

She bit her lower lip. She was itching for this. She was itching for adventure.

That surprised Wynne. She was craving for a thrill!

"No one has to know, yes?"

"Of course," he replied. "So long as you also keep my secret." He looked around the room as he added under his breath, "And you if you can keep away from anything yellow."

He saw her lips flinch before she dramatically sighed. "Very well. For the signatures. What time on the morrow?"

Wynne smiled. "Come by after luncheon."

With that, Emma nodded and turned to go back to her seat beside Ysabella. Wynne lingered longer in his spot, a great sense of triumph bursting inside him.

He now had something with Emma, a secret they both shared.

His eyes drifted to Samuel. The fool was too unaware. He was too confident he already had Emma Everard in his clutches that he forgot to keep the keys.

Samuel's obsession with the Trilbys could very well cost him the woman of his dreams because as much as he did not want to, Wynne was starting to enjoy the game his aunt laid out for him.