Prada and Prejudice

Chapter 21

Only two hours pass before I start wondering if putting all our eggs in one basket is such a hot idea. What if we get it all set up and then Trent backs out? Then everyone will think she's not a virgin, and no one will marry her.

There are some serious flaws in this plan. But I'm afraid to bring them up, because Emily is just barely going along with it. I think she might have a heart attack or spontaneously combust at any moment.

God, this is stupid. There has to be a plan that's less risky than this one.

I sent Trent a note about an hour ago, explaining the whole thing. If he agrees, he'll arrive tonight and sweep Emily away for an evening. I can't back out now, no matter how panicked I feel.

It will work. What could possibly go wrong? If Trent agrees, he's going to marry her. Problem solved.

Alex must be dealing with some of his dukely duties or something, because he's gone for the day. It's perfect, though, because Emily and I need a day to talk and scheme and not worry about him figuring out what we're plotting.

We're really going to try to do this. I'm both thrilled and terrified because I want it to work so badly. If it doesn't... What then? I'll have gotten her hopes up for nothing. And probably made things worse. And I can't take the idea of disappointing her.

I hope I've thought of everything.

I help Emily pack a trunk's worth of clothes while we wait for a response from Trent.

We're trying to keep as many people in the dark about this as possible, which means no more servants than necessary. "Below stairs," as it really is called, is a rumor mill. Worse than high school. Not that I blame them. It's sort of like the way the majority of the high school talks about the A-list.

Of course, when it's time, the servants will become part of our plan. They'll play their role: push the rumor that Emily is ruined. But if they know too early, they'll tip off Victoria or Alex, who will stop us before we start.

"This is so very thrilling!" Emily says, stuffing another gown into the trunk. "Everyone will be so shocked when they discover I'm gone." She's buzzing with energy; she can hardly sit still. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are sparkling as she dances around the room and picks out more gowns.

"I'll cover for you until we're ready for Phase 2," I say, even though I don't have a clue how I'm going to do it. "They won't even know you're gone until I'm ready for them to know."

Why do I keep telling her this stuff? I have no idea how to cover for her. Normally, I could just tell everyone she's not feeling well... But wouldn't a servant wait on her? They're going to think it's weird if I offer to bring her food.

Oh, well. I'm sure something brilliant will come to me.

There's a knock on the door and both of us stare at each other, wide-eyed as we flip the trunk shut and find seats, trying to act as if we're up to nothing at all. It couldn't be more obvious if we whistled nonchalantly.

"You may enter," Emily calls out in a voice much calmer than I feel.

A servant walks in and hands her a note before curtsying and leaving.

Emily holds it in one shaky hand and stares at the scrawled name on the outside.

"Open it!"

She just keeps staring.

"Oh fine, let me open it!"

She holds the note out to me. I snatch it from her hand and then slide a thumb under the edge to pop open the wax seal. My eyes scan over the first few words before a grin spreads across my features. "He's in! He's agreed to run away with you!"

Emily jumps up and nearly knocks me over with a hug. Her laughter tickles my ear, and before I know it we both fall over and end up rolling on the floor, laughing and squealing. The plan is falling into place. Just like I thought it would.

"I cannot believe he agreed! Oh, he has made me the happiest girl in all of England!"

I nod. I should feel relieved, but I just feel nervous. This has to work. It has to. It's my ticket home. I'm sure of it. What other way could there be?

Emily and I dust off our dresses and resume packing, shoving a few more items into the already-overflowing trunk. I'm not sure why she's packing so much when she only needs to be gone for a night, but it seems to be keeping her nerves at ease, so I don't stop her.

She pauses, her hand gripping a yellow slipper, and grins. "I knew you would help me. When I realized you'd arrived so early, I thought you were a gift from God. And now it seems I was right." She grins again as she resumes her packing, and I smile weakly at her. What if this falls apart? She's already writing her Academy Award thank you speech and nothing's fixed yet. If she knew my track record for screwing everything up...

I take a deep breath and grab the next pile of clothes. I have to stop thinking of it like that.

I've thought of everything. What could possibly go wrong?

After dinner, I wait on the cold front stoop for what seems like hours, watching the sky darken.

What if he doesn't come? What if his note was a lie and he doesn't show up? Maybe he chickened out. Maybe he realized this whole plan is totally nuts and he bailed on us. There are a thousand reasons he could back out.

I pace up and down between the big columns so many times I must be wearing a groove in the stone. There's a drizzle coming down. I'm dry, thanks to the overhang, but I keep watching and praying it doesn't turn into a full-blown storm and ruin everything. The sky darkens and the sun sets, and still he has not arrived.

Finally, just when I'm about to have a heart attack, I see a glow in the distance, bobbing along. It's getting brighter, and then a carriage emerges from the night shadows, a dark horse pulling it quietly along. When I see Trent atop the bench, cloaked in a dark jacket, sitting just under the canopy, I grin like a fool. It's a small carriage, built only for two: Trent and Emily. He pulls to a stop in front of the steps and starts to climb down.

"Wait here!" I say, in a shouted whisper. He can't be seen by anyone if Emily is to make a clean getaway. Trent just nods and sits back down. He doesn't even give me a weird look, which I have to give him credit for. Plan C: Phase 1 is complete. Time for Phase 2: Send Emily Away.

I turn and push the door open, and nearly run smack into the butler.

Oh, crud. I forgot about him. I shove the door closed before he can see Trent or his carriage, my heart hammering against my rib cage. What am I supposed to do now? He might alert Victoria or say something to Trent... Emily has to get away unnoticed.

"Grommley," Emily calls from the foot of the stairs. "Will you see to it that Mrs. West prepares the four guest chambers at the end of the east wing? I may be expecting visitors."

Genius. Pure genius.

Grommley — the butler — bows and leaves the door, and I manage to breathe again.

"Thank you," I say.

"Yes. Now let me fetch my things."

I nod and watch her climb back up the stairs and disappear. I'm still standing there, alone, when I see him.

Alex. He's walking down the east wing, a floor below Emily. Cripes, she's probably directly above him, grabbing her things. Does everyone have to appear at exactly this moment? Can I catch a break please?

His strides are so long he's going to be in front of me, and in the middle of the foyer, in three seconds. He's supposed to be asleep! I haven't seen him in hours... What is he doing? He's about to ruin it all!