Twists of Fate

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people have read this story since April 2004

Twists of Fate

Steed keeps a low profile

Emma finds her way home

Chapter 1

Emma dropped the small paper bag on the passenger seat with her handbag and slid into the driver's seat of her Lotus. She was pushing herself to make it through the day despite the exhaustion chipping away at her resolve. She and Steed had arrived at Heathrow from Puerto Rico around eight o'clock in the morning, and they'd gone directly to his flat to retrieve her car. He'd tried to convince her to stay, to curl up with him for a few hours of sleep, but she'd declined.

"I have to go out to the estate. See Sally, sort through my messages, and get a certain prescription -- you may recall that?" she'd stood by her car door, unwilling even to come inside, so tempting was sleep. His eyes had brightened at her last item.

"So you'll have to come back to town for that," he'd pointed out. She'd narrowed her eyes at him and he'd grinned.

"I could, or I could put it off a few days . . ."

"You wouldn't!"

She'd chuckled, "I wouldn't. Shall I drop by later -- see if you're still awake?"

"Of course you should," he'd pulled her close for a quick kiss -- still more than she was used to from him in public.

Since then she'd been out to the estate for a long review with Sally, made several appointments for interviews with reporters, spoken briefly to her in-laws, unpacked the bag she'd been provided in Puerto Rico, and repacked a few things into a smaller bag to take to Steed's. She made it to the chemists just in time to convince them to refill the prescription for her lost birth control pills that afternoon. Browsing while she waited, she realized that even if she restarted taking the pills today, there was still a risk. Having a child with Steed was in her plans -- for the future. Feeling awkward, she selected a box of condoms and paid for them with her pills.

She had never used them, but she was sure Steed had -- realized as she got back in her car that he probably had a supply. She'd been a virgin bride. Knowing it, her doctor had suggested she start the pill before her wedding, advising her that she might want to get used to married life before adding children to the mix. He had also pointed out that other methods are easy to forget in the heat of the moment. To embarrassed to ask questions, she had agreed.

When Peter had pressed her to cut back on her involvement with Knight Industries she'd brought up children. He'd complained that he was only then going to have her full attention and he wanted it be just the two of them for a while. She'd complied. And gradually, as she grown less and less happy, she'd stopped wanting to have children and started questioning her commitment to their marriage.

After Peter's crash she'd kept on the pill in case he was found -- more than ever she didn't want to start a family. And even after hope for his rescue was gone her doctor advised her to stay on the pill, that going off caused physiological changes that she should not add to everything else just then. She was no longer embarrassed to discuss it, and she had agreed simply because his advice sounded reasonable. Then she'd met Steed, and although they did not become lovers for a few months, she had anticipated it from the start.

So throughout her sexually active adult life, she'd never had need of any other form of protection. Buying condoms embarrassed her. Feeling silly for it, but no less awkward, she unzipped her bag and stuffed the paper sack inside. As tired as she was from travel and jet lag, she expected to be asleep before her head hit the pillow anyway. She laughed at herself as she started the car and guided it toward Steed's flat. He could have his way with her, she'd probably sleep straight through.

Steed was awake, stretched out on the sofa puffing at his tuba when she entered. She hadn't bothered knocking; the loud atonal blasts from the battered instrument would have drowned it out anyway. He would never admit that he couldn't actually play the tuba. When she'd first met him she'd thought it was strictly decorative, since it usually had a bunch of flowers in it. But then one day, after she'd become comfortable in his home, she'd tried playing it and found that it was functional. She didn't really play either, but she'd had music lessons on enough instruments to at least extract a proper tone out of it. Steed, on the other hand, tended to make the poor thing blat and wheeze. Fortunately, he set it aside as she came in.

"Oh thank goodness," he said, stretching his arms over his head and yawning loudly. "I was about to give up and go to bed."

"That's what I'm going to do, if you don't mind," Emma replied, coming up behind the couch to lean over and kiss him lightly. "Couldn't we nap for a couple of hours, then go forage for something to eat?"

"We could," he nodded thoughtfully. "Or we could nap for a couple of hours, then enjoy the dinner I ordered from Harvey Nic's."

"Really?" she grinned happily.

"Everything's waiting -- we'll just have to warm it," he replied, rising to come around the couch.

"You spoil me," she sighed as he took her bag and headed for the stairs

"Yes," he agreed.

"You're not going to disagree?" she asked playfully as she followed him up the spiral stairs.

"Nope. How's everything on the home front?"

"Under control," she said, too tired even to continue the banter. He set her bag on the floor near the closet.

"Why don't you leave a few things here?" he asked, reaching out to draw her comfortably into his arms.

She shrugged. "Because you haven't offered."

"I'm offering. I'll make you some room. You'll need a place in London for the next few months. And then . . ."

"Steed, I'm getting my flat back," she said. Her tenant had moved out and Sally had overseen getting it cleaned and painted, making several trips on her own up to London. It had never really occurred to Emma to make Steed's her London base of operations. Comfortable as she was here, it was still his apartment. She'd thought he'd understand. Now she wasn't so sure. His arms dropped from around her and he turned away, loosening his belt, beginning to undress.

"Steed?"

He pulled off his sweater, then removed his pants, but not his underwear. She stood watching as he went over to the bed, finally turning to glance at her.

"Of course," he said softly, "you need your space. I understand." He pulled back the covers and sat down on the bed, scrubbing his face with both hands. She crossed the room and sat beside him, very conscious of his near nakedness.

"What I really need is ëour' space. Until then, yes, I need an address that isn't also yours," she reached up and turned his head, trying to read him through his eyes. They were clouded with fatigue. "I may never sleep there, of course," she added, her mouth crooking in a half smile, waiting to see how he'd react.

"Vixen," he muttered, wrapping his arms around her, "teasing an exhausted man."

She rose and began to undress. "As I recall, it's one of your favorite of my qualities," she said.

"Ummmm," he replied, stretching out on the bed and pulling the covers up. Just then she remembered her pills and her other purchase. She picked up her bag and went into the bathroom. Better get back on track right now.

They slept for three hours, both waking as Steed's clock chimed the half hour after seven. She had also kept her underpants on and pulled on one of the undershirts that he rarely seemed to wear, a signal that she really did want to sleep. Feeling somewhat refreshed, they lay face-to-face, hands caressing idly, not really trying to incite desire -- yet.

"Hungry?" he asked. She thought about it for a moment.

"Yes. I had to think when I last ate. Evie forced some soup on me at the estate."

"I understand, from sources, that you were not eating all that well prior to the shareholder meeting. The last week or so has not been much of an improvement. We shall have to see that you don't run yourself down."

Sources? What sources? "What did you do today, Steed?"

"Checked in at the ministry. There's something brewing in Liverpool I may have to attend to soon."

"Liverpool, huh? And you so hate the popular music that's big there," she said. She rather liked the fast beats and poetical lyrics created by the new generation of musicians springing forth from that part of England. He knew it, and that she was teasing him for being old fashioned. So he ignored her.

"I shall try not to be gone long, and I will call -- it's not undercover work, just security."

"Do you need help?"

He looked surprised. She shrugged, realizing that she really couldn't do it, shouldn't have offered. And that she hated being torn between her life and his.

"It's not your sort of assignment," he said, "no mysteries, no diabolical masterminds. Just a dignitary whose outspoken nature is starting to put her in danger. I promise to call you in if it becomes more sinister."

"Her?"

He laughed, leaned close to kiss her, then studied her face, grinning. "Jealous?"

"Not at all," she grinned back. "I know where I stand with you. Or you with me, I should say. But I'm wondering how this female dignitary will react to your usual techniques."

"Like every other female -- you excepted -- I imagine," he said rather arrogantly.

"Incorrigible," she sighed and he smiled agreement.

"It's my job."

Emma parked the Lotus in front of the small, tidy house in a north London suburb and she and Sally got out. She had telephoned to tell Aunt Elise that she was coming and left a message with her uncle David. He'd told her that Elise was out at the shops, but would certainly be at home by the time Emma arrived. She'd thought he'd sounded pleased to hear from her, which seemed odd given his wife's recent behavior. Unless he doesn't know.

David had not been at the Knight Industries shareholders' meeting where his wife, Emma's paternal aunt, had gone back on her promise to support Emma. Emma had presented herself and her proposed directives for the shareholders to vote upon. During the roll call vote all the shareholders who Emma had lined up to support her had done so except her aunt. Unfortunately, Elise held a large block of shares, and for a while it had seemed that Emma had lost her bid to regain control of her father's company.

Only Steed's surprise presence, and even more surprising possession of more shares than her aunt, had saved her plan. After the meeting, Emma had seen Elise get into a car with two of the Knight board members. She'd followed the car to a large house that had turned out to belong to the chairman of the board. Since she'd left England the day after the shareholders meeting, she hadn't had time to pursue the matter until now.

She led Sally up the front walk and rang the doorbell. A chime sounded somewhere inside, followed by a strange screeching sound. Sally looked alarmed, but Emma just closed her eyes and tried to remain calm.

"That's just Sylvester," she said, "My uncle David's macaw."

"That sound is a bird?" Sally asked.

"Oh yes. But it's not the screeching that's bad, really. Wait until you hear its vocabulary."

"Doesn't someone have to teach them those words?" Sally asked as they heard footsteps approaching the door inside. It swung open and Sally recognized Emma's aunt from the shareholder's meeting.

Elise looked out at them blankly for a moment, one hand on the door, the other holding her sweater closed at the neck against the winter chill. Under it she wore a white blouse tucked into garish green paisley slacks. She took a step back, her hard soled flat pumps clacking on the tile floor.

"Hello Aunt Elise," Emma said cheerfully. "May we come in? This is Sally, my personal assistant." Emma didn't wait for an answer. She stepped into the entry, forcing Elise to step aside. Sally followed.

"Hello Emma," Elise managed, sounding put out. "This is a surprise."

"Uncle David didn't mention that I'd called?" Emma asked, pressing still further in so that Elise would be compelled to close the door. "We didn't have a chance to speak at the Knight shareholders meeting, and I've been away since then. Now I'm back I thought it would be good to catch up."

Elise closed the door and looked Emma up and down, taking in her black and white fur coat, stylish designer pantsuit, and Italian shoes. Sally was similarly attired, although her labels were from a rather different shopping district and her coat was cloth.

"We've nothing to catch up on, Emma," she said firmly.

Emma smiled and tossed Elise a sideways nod, then turned and strolled into the parlor, slipping her coat off as she walked. She laid it over the back of an armchair and glanced around, eyes fixing on a photograph on the mantle. Sally followed her, adding her coat to the chair, then standing beside it. Elise stood in the doorway defiantly, her hands planted on her broad hips. Emma picked up the framed photograph and turned toward Elise.

"You and your brothers, isn't it?" she asked. "At the party that my father threw when Knight won it's first government contract." She handed the picture to Sally, who looked at it curiously. She knew the gesture was just part of Emma's performance, but she was interested in seeing Sir John Knight.

Elise didn't answer, just watched Sally look at the picture, then walk back to the fireplace and put it back in its place. She passed behind Emma, who stood with her arms crossed watching Elise.

"What did Evan Birch offer you to vote against me?" Emma asked. The screeching sound erupted again from another room. Emma smiled ever so slightly. Her uncle's parrot's timing had always amused her. Any moment now he'd dredge up a wholly inappropriate word or two.

Elise cringed, but Emma wasn't sure if her aunt was reacting to her question or the bird. "Or was it a matter of what he offered to do if you didn't support him?"

"I don' t know what you're talking about, Emma," Elise said. "I rethought what you had suggested and changed my mind. I don't believe that you are cut out to head up the company."

Emma shook her head, wishing not for the first time that she'd thought to get her aunt's commitment in writing. But that would have been very awkward, and probably useless. She opened her mouth to speak just as Sylvester came through.

"Filthy wog! Filthy wog!" he cried. Sally gasped, putting a hand to her mouth to conceal her surprise. Emma smiled, watching Elise squirm at the bird's bad manners.

"Cousin Dave has been working with Sylvester," Emma said pleasantly. Her cousin was a very immature twenty-two, still living, Emma thought, with his parents. She, on the other hand, had been the CEO of Knight at twenty-one. Not cut out to manage Knight indeed!

"I would have appreciated a telephone call, Aunt," Emma said, sadness in her voice. "Of course I believe that how you vote your shares is entirely your business. But the courtesy of a warning --."

"Courtesy! You pressure me to follow your direction, you bulldoze your agenda through, you bring in strangers to help you. You've never been courteous to your own family."

Sally was shocked at the woman's vehemence. Her admiration for her employer was reinforced as Emma bore the verbal abuse calmly.

"So your visit to Birch's home after the meeting was a social call?"

Elise opened her mouth, then closed it, speechless. "Fetch me a pint! Fetch me a pint! Filthy wog!" Sylvester called. Emma could not restrain a chuckle. "We saw you, Elise. We followed the car you got in to Birch's house. Why did you go? To collect payment for services rendered? I'm surprised they honored the agreement, since the tactic failed."

Emma realized as she spoke that she had gone to far. Elise's face turned crimson and she stepped into the room, putting herself toe-to-toe with her taller niece. You've no idea what danger you're in, Emma thought, forcefully refraining from raising her hands to the older woman. Blood counts, Emma. You may still need her, or her family, one day. And they may not betray you next time.

"Get out of my home," Elise said, her voice almost a growl. "Take your fur, and your assistant, and your attitude, and get out."

Emma stared down at her, saddened by the order of precedence of her list. Material wealth first. It always came to that. She nodded very slightly, then stepped to the side to lift both coats off the chair. She glanced at Sally, who moved quickly to follow her. Elise stepped aside as they left the parlor and went down the hall to the door. Emma glanced back, but Elise had not followed. The notion of staying in the house, wandering into the kitchen, say, to see Sylvester, crossed her mind, but she couldn't see any benefit to further angering her aunt. She opened the door and stepped out, stopping on the front steps to put on her coat.

She led Sally down the walk to the curb, turning to look back at the house. A curtain in a front window flicked down. She was turning back to the car when a motion further along the sidewalk caught her eye. Her Uncle David was standing in front of the neighboring house, which was surrounded by a high hedge. He couldn't be seen from his own home. He waved again, gesturing for her to come to him. She glanced at the house again, certain that her aunt was watching. She nodded at David, acknowledging his request, then opened the car door and got in. Sally joined her. She started the engine and drove forward until the hedges concealed the car. She left it running and got out.

"Emma," David put his hands on her upper arms and looked into her troubled face. His own features were sharply defined, with high cheekbones and a razor thin long nose. He looked worried.

"Uncle David, what's going on?" Emma asked.

He grimaced, dropping his hands to his sides and shaking his head. "You know how my Elise has always felt about your father and you," he said sadly. She nodded, equally pained. "I know it's none of your doing. But when those men came with their threats and offers, it was easy for her to believe them."

"What men, Uncle?" Emma asked, not wanting to offer names. She glanced at Sally, who had also gotten out of the car. She had a pen in one hand a pad in the other.

"The Knight board members. That chairman, Birch, he's quite a piece of work. He managed not to do or say anything that could be called ëillegal.' Got the other two to do the dirty work."

"Who were they?"

"Ah, Stafford was one. Short fellow. He was very unpleasant. Told Elise just what would happen at Dave Junior's work if she supported you."

So that was what they used. Emma glanced at Sally and saw that she was writing. "And do you remember the other?"

"Dixon. The fop," David spoke with contempt, "All dolled up in a fancy suit and school tie." Emma wondered what her uncle would make of Steed. "Stood back and watched most of the time, that one. Like he didn't want to dirty his hands. But when Elise agreed to do as they said -- that was the second time they came -- he's the one who gave her the check."

"They paid her," Emma said, not asking. "How much?"

David stared at his shoes for a moment, then shrugged. "Not sure. She wouldn't say. Put the money in her account. After the shareholders' meeting she said she had another check. She's paid for a trip for all of us -- taking us to the south of France for a week in April."

"That should be fun," Emma said, not begrudging her uncle the vacation even thought it was to some extent at her expense. "Do you remember the dates that they came? Even roughly?"

"Well," he pursed his lips, thinking. "The first time would have been before Christmas. Early December. It was a Monday -- the first or second Monday in December."

"And the second time? When they paid her?"

"That's easy. It was January 6^th -- King's day."

"Thank you, Uncle. This is very important to me."

Her uncle shrugged, still not making eye contact. "I'm sorry, Emma," he said. "I love my Elise, but I just don't understand what happened between you all. It doesn't seem like a right family, to me. Her resenting her brother, and you left with no one, running that company, hardly more than a child," he shook his head sadly.

"I don't really know, either," Emma said, "I thought my father tried to be generous to his siblings. I never understood the rift between them. As for me, don't worry. I'm very resilient."

David chuckled, finally looking at her face again. She smiled warmly. "Thank you for telling me all this, Uncle. There are some rats at Knight Industries, and I intend to see that they desert the ship before they sink it."

At that David laughed, returning his hands to her upper arms and drawing her close for a quick hug. "Take care of yourself Emma," he said warmly.

She kissed his cheek. "You too, Uncle David."

"You got the names and dates?" Emma asked once they were back in the car.

"Yes ma'am. You know I believe those are the three board members I overheard talking."

"Yes. I know. And they're the ones we saw put Elise in the car after the meeting. Surely that doesn't surprise you?"

Sally shook her head, "No. I guess it all makes sense. But do you think any of the others are in on it?"

"Very good question, Sally. Very good," Emma nodded, but offered no opinion.

"It looks wonderful, Sally. Thank you for all your help," Emma said. She was standing in the middle of her freshly painted apartment. In addition to the paint, the floors had been refinished and the kitchen and bathroom countertops had been replaced. It felt strange without any furniture, and it smelled faintly of paint and varnish, but Emma quite suddenly felt more at home than she had anywhere else in the last three years.

Sally smiled proudly. She would never admit to her employer just how big a challenge it had been for her. She'd made several trips into London on her own while Emma was away to meet the painters and refinishers. That alone had been a big challenge at first. But she'd started to enjoy the train ride and the freedom, and had even stopped in at a little cafÈ for a scone on her last trip a few days ago. Although Emma had selected the colors, Sally had been asked to approve the swashes of paint they put on the walls, trusting herself to compare the chips to the walls. She'd had to press the floor refinishers, too. She didn't tell Emma that they had only finished yesterday, a week behind schedule.

"I've confirmed with the moving company," she said, opening her appointment book to check the information. "They're coming the day after tomorrow. Do you want to check that everything you want to move is in the garage at the estate before then?"

"Yes, I'll check it again. Tomorrow," Emma looked at her watch, then took one last look around the room. "But now you're going to drop me at Steed's and take my car back to the estate."

Sally stared at her.

"You can drive a standard, can't you?" Emma asked. It hadn't occurred to her to ask.

Sally recovered herself, nodding. "Yes, ma'am. I -- thank you for trusting me with your car!"

Emma laughed, "It's just a car, Sally. You're a cautious person. Enjoy the drive."

"But I could just take the train, ma'am," she pointed out. Emma shook her head, moving toward the door. Sally followed her.

"Steed will drive me out tomorrow. Gives us a little more time together," Emma said, then glanced over her shoulder at Sally, surprised at herself for admitting it to the girl. "He's going out of town," she added. Sally smiled, but made no comment.

"Steed?" Emma stepped into his apartment and paused to listen for him. She heard him clattering down the stairs and moved toward them to meet him.

"Mrs. Peel, right on time," he said, reaching the bottom just as she did. She stepped into his arms for a kiss, then walked over to sit on the couch and stretch her legs out along its length.

"I've just seen my flat," she said as he disappeared into the kitchen.

"And?" he called out. She heard glasses clinking and smiled.

"Lovely. Bright. Spotless. Empty."

Steed reappeared with a pitcher full of something green and white and two glasses. "Dear Sally handled everything to your satisfaction, then?" he asked, handing her a glass.

"Yes," she said archly. "Surprised?"

He filled her glass, allowing ice and the green stuff, which looked suspiciously like an herb, to fall into it.

"No. But you can be very exacting. Poor girl was probably a bundle of nerves showing it to you," he poured his own drink, set the pitcher aside, and sat down at the opposite end of the couch.

"What is this?" Emma asked, sipping her drink. It was a refreshing mix of lime, mint, and rum.

"In honor of our recent trip, it's Cuban. A mojito. What do you think?"

"I like it. In moderation. Did you think I would snap her head off if the colors weren't perfect?"

Steed laughed, but didn't reply. She scowled at him. "In any case, I've sent her home with my car. You'll have to drive me back to the estate."

He sipped his drink, wondering if he'd teased her too much. "Tonight?"

"If you insist," she said, still not smiling. "But I was thinking of tomorrow." He released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding as she grinned at him. "Honestly Steed, I know I'm demanding, but I do quite like Sally. I wouldn't have scolded her just because the red in the piano alcove isn't quite right."

"Isn't it?" he asked smoothly.

"No. But I didn't say a thing."

"I'm proud of you. Accepting others' failings, dealing with adverse circumstances . . ."

"Are we to spend the entire evening deconstructing my nature?"

"No. Let's deconstruct your clothing instead." He set his glass on the floor and moved to her end of the couch, propping himself above her. She planted a hand firmly on his chest.

"Not until you feed me, darling. Aside from the flat, which really is wonderful, I've had a perfectly vicious day."

Steed sat back and waited, knowing she'd provide details.

"I visited Aunt Elise. She was absolutely hostile, which is not unusual," she said. He nodded, remembering her description of the woman. "But her husband, my Uncle David, spoke to me afterwards. He told me everything. The three board members threatened my cousin's job if she supported me, and paid her a bribe to vote their way."

"Those are very serious charges."

"Yes I know. I'm trying to decide how to use the information."

"You mean, aside from reporting it to the proper authorities, which are, I might add, not me."

She smirked at him, taking a sip of her drink. "Yes, aside from that. I've still got to get them to vote me chairman and CEO. I think Uncle David has given me the leverage I need. I'll worry about criminal charges after I'm secure."

"So although it was unpleasant, you did achieve your aim in visiting her," he pointed out. "Drink up, and I'll see that you're properly fed. You're becoming more troublesome than some horses I know." He stood up and collected the pitcher and his glass. Emma sighed, took another long sip, and followed him to the kitchen. She wasn't sure she liked being equated with a horse. But then, Steed was inordinately fond of horses, so it was probably a compliment to be placed in their company.

"I had a call this morning, too," she said. "Just to add to the stress of the moment. Peter's lawyers want to meet."

Steed took her glass to rinse, pausing to study her face. She looked worried. "Did they say what about?"

"No. He's signed the papers, so there's really nothing to discuss," she said.

Steed swirled water in her glass, thinking. Damn, this isn't fair. She needs to know that the investigation is ongoing, that something's not right at Knight. She'll figure it out for herself if she has a few more clues.

"While I'm away, you should go to the Ministry. Speak to Weems and Plath," he said, referring to the agents working on the Peter Peel case. He set her glass on the rack with the others and looked back at her, seeing a puzzled expression. "Be pushy. Make them tell you about the investigation of your husband."

Her eyes narrowed in that look he knew meant she was turning things over in her mind. He waited, and it didn't take long. Her eyes widened until she was glaring at him, annoyance growing in her eyes. "Be demanding," he urged, trying to make her understand that he couldn't say more. Suddenly she turned away, heading back out into the living room. He followed slowly, giving her space. It seemed like she needed a lot of it these days.

"I wish you would stop calling him that," she said abruptly.

"What?"

She turned. "Peter. Stop calling him ëyour husband.' He isn't. Not anymore."

Now Steed frowned, stepping close to her after all, looking into her eyes. The annoyance was still there, but it was coupled with mischief and, underlying it all was the affection that he thrived upon.

"No?" he asked softly, hoping he understood her correctly.

"No," she replied, equally softly, her hands coming up to caress his shoulders, then slip behind his neck. "I received the final, stamped, approved papers this morning. I am officially divorced."

His hands slid around her waist, one climbing up her back between her shoulders, the other inching down and pressing her against him. Her kiss was eager, and he savored it, tasting the rum and mint combined with her lipstick and that other flavor that was uniquely Emma.

"You saved the best for last," he whispered into her ear. "How I love you, even when we're both feeling testy."

"And how pleasant it is to apologize," she agreed, holding him tight.

"Let's celebrate. I know just the place, and I'm sure they'll have a table. For us."

"For us," she repeated, pulling back to look into his eyes. "I like that."

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