This story copyright © 2003 Mia McCroskey
Characters from The Avengers and other sources are the property of their respective owners.
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Steed goes underwater
Emma dives in
Chapter 2
The drive north to Steed's sister Caroline's home took most of the afternoon. Emma had brought along a few day's crosswords and kept them both occupied as he drove. In the gathering dusk he stopped the Bentley in front of a big old house with a big, snow-covered yard. She looked at the homey place, wondering what she was about to get into. Steed came around to her side and opened the door.
"Steed, did you warn your sister that I was coming?" she asked.
"Of course. I phoned and told her I was bringing a friend. She was glad to hear it."
"A friend? Not woman?" Steed shrugged and looked blankly at her. "What are your usual accommodates when you visit?" she asked.
"The younger boys, Timothy and Arthur, double up with their older brother Ted -- they love it -- and I get their room."
"Well, your sister may have presumed that your friend is a man and put us together. That wouldn't be appropriate. What we do in your flat or at the estate is one thing, but in a family home . . ." her voice trailed off as the front door of the house opened and a woman peered out. "Too late," she finished, indicating the house with her eyes. Steed turned to look.
"Johnny? Is that you? It's freezing out here. Let the lady get out of the car!" a voice, most certainly Steed's sister, called out across the snowy lawn.
Emma grinned at Steed, mouthing "Johnny?" at him as he took her hand to help her out. He grimaced, and guided her up the shoveled front walk to the door.
"Come in, come in!" Steed's sister Caroline held the door wide open and stepped back to admit them. She was the very picture of a country wife, comfortably built and dressed, rosy cheeked and as bright eyed as Steed. She wore an attractive dark red woolen dress with a white apron tied over it. Stains on the apron suggested that she'd been busy in the kitchen.
The house smelled of roast beef, wood smoke, and pine needles on top of myriad more subtle scents. Steed closed the front door as Emma and his sister faced one another for the first time.
"Lady Emma," Caroline said, taking both of Emma's hands, "it is so good of our John to bring you at last." Her warm smile was infectious and the twinkle in her eyes was so like Steed's that Emma felt immediately, sincerely welcome.
"Just Emma, please," she said.
"Your coat, Mrs. Peel," Steed spoke quietly just behind her. She felt his hands on her shoulders and suddenly felt as if he were hiding behind her. She unbelted her coat and shrugged out of it. He had never commented on her appropriation of his greatcoat, and she had not been able to give it up.
"Yes, yes, get comfortable -- we'll send Harry out for your bags later," Caroline said, "You're just in time -- we're sorting out supper. Why don't you come along through to the kitchen so we can visit while we get things ready. Oh," she stopped and turned halfway to the door at the back of the entry, "Unless you'd rather have a drink in the parlor -- I mean, if the kitchen is a bit too much family all at once . . ."
"I think that family is what we came for, Mrs. Hill," Emma said, glancing at Steed, who was hanging their coats. He closed the closet door and turned to her, taking her hand.
"Certainly," he said, nodding at his sister. "Lead on, dear sister." Caroline's glance took in their clasped hands and her smile widened. She was turning to lead them through to the kitchen when the door ahead of her slammed open and three dogs of varying sizes romped through. Emma immediately crouched down to meet them at eye level, petting each one as it bounced forward to sniff her. A boy of about seven followed the dogs, calling out their names in a half-hearted attempt at discipline. He glanced at the adults in the entry and his face broke into a broad grin.
"Uncle!" he shouted, propelling himself at Steed. Steed caught him and lifted him up.
"Hello Timothy," Steed said. "Happy Christmas!"
Timothy, his hair as red as his cheeks and shooting out in all directions, beamed at his uncle. Then he looked at Emma, who had finished greeting the dogs.
"Timothy, this is my friend Mrs. -- ah, Miss Knight," Steed winced at his verbal stumble over the unfamiliar name.
"Hello," Timothy extended his hand to Emma, who shook it very formally. Timothy's eyes widened and he turned and whispered something in Steed's ear. Steed smiled indulgently.
"I think so too," he said softly to the boy, then put him down.
"Master Timothy, you just take those dogs back to the mudroom where they belong. Where are the napkins?"
"Yes mum. On the table," the boy said, grabbing the largest dog's collar and using it to drag the pack back through the kitchen door.
"Chaos," Caroline said, "This house is utter chaos. Come along then," she turned once again to the kitchen door.
Emma felt Steed's hands on her shoulders again, holding her back. His face was beside hers, his breath tickling her ear, "Thank you," he whispered.
She turned her head to look him in the eye. "For what?"
"For everything. For being you," he replied with a little shrug. He could not articulate all that he meant, so instead he leaned close and placed a warm, soft kiss on her lips. She wanted to sink into it, wanted to turn and embrace him and return his kiss to let him know how wonderful it was to be welcomed into his family. But she knew that Caroline had paused in the kitchen doorway to observe them, so she pulled away, turning her head just in time to see Caroline look away herself.
Emma turned her face back toward Steed's. "What did Timothy whisper to you?" she asked.
He smiled playfully, "That you're very pretty."
Emma was good with names, but she soon lost track of all the children and cousins arrayed around the supper table. In addition to Caroline and Harry's six, there were the children of Harry's sister, and a neighbor couple who had no other family so had been pulled into the Hall household. Emma was seated next to the end of the table where Harry, Steed's brother-in-law, held court over the roast. Steed, beside her, was kept quite occupied by his trio of nieces, seated beside and across from him, but Emma found Harry a very pleasant conversationalist.
Harry, she learned, had started his career in the office at a coal-mining firm. He had learned a great deal about the business, and the industry, and begun handling the firm's futures investments. From the size of his home and comfortable lifestyle, Emma guessed that he had developed a good understanding of the futures market. The more she asked, the more impressed she was, and they were soon deep in conversation about industrial futures and other aspects of the market. Now and then she felt Steed's hand alight on her thigh under the table, giving it a gentle, inquiring squeeze. Each time, she discretely covered his hand and squeezed back, I'm fine, darling. Enjoy yourself.
Gradually Emma and Harry realized that the room had grown quiet. Glancing round, Emma saw that several of the children had gone, and others were clearing the table. She glanced at Steed, who was watching her with a look of contentment on his face. He smiled when she caught his eye.
"Now Steed," Harry said, running a hand through his mop of red hair. "You must come see my latest project -- if I ever find time for it. You'll excuse us, won't you Emma?"
"Of course," Emma said as the men rose. At the far end of the table Caroline also rose, picked up a half-full wine bottle and her glass, and came down the table to sit across from Emma. She topped off Emma's glass and refilled her own, then raised her glass. Emma raised hers and both women sipped, watching one another.
"Six years I've waited to meet you, Emma," Caroline said. "At first, when he wouldn't stop talking about you, I begged him ‘bring her along.' But he said, ‘no, Caro, it wouldn't do,'" Caroline shook her head and took another sip of wine. Emma tried to get used to the idea that Steed had talked about her to his relatives. What had he said?
"We know better than to ask him about his work, of course," Caroline went on as if Emma had spoken aloud. "So we asked about his social life -- the fancy parties and all. And you were always in his stories. We know you worked with him, that much was clear. I'll say no more about that. The way he described you in those days," she shook her head, glancing down at her hands, then across the table at Emma's, wrapped around her wine glass. "Such adventures! Grand balls, hunts, trips to Paris, Rome. He once sent a photo taken in Venice, Italy. I can't imagine how you two arranged it, but you were driving a gondola. Not him -- you!"
Emma laughed, remembering Steed paying the gondolier an exorbitant amount of lire for a driving lesson. She'd grasped the use of the pole and forcola immediately after he'd fumbled with it for half an hour and given up. The gondolier had been so amused he'd taken the photograph. She had a copy too, tucked away somewhere where Peter would never have found it.
"We had fun," she said, knowing that it was a terribly inadequate description of their days together when they thought she was a widow.
"And then John was different," Caroline said. "He came for Christmas and he never mentioned you. He didn't have any funny stories, he listened to our silly chatter and kept to himself. He was heartbroken, and we knew why. But what could we do? He wouldn't talk about it, wouldn't admit his hurt, and I would never ask."
Emma rolled her glass between her hands, then raised it to her lips and took a long sip. Caroline watched her.
"If it's any consolation," Emma said softly, "I was no better off."
"No, it's not consoling," Caroline said. "It's doubly sad -- the two of you, happy together like few people ever are, and you couldn't stay that way. But here you are now," she took another gulp of wine. "Finally found your way back together, I see. Thank you for bringing my brother back."
"It's my pleasure," Emma said softly, touched by Caroline's affection for Steed.
Caroline grinned, "I'm sure it is," she said evilly. Emma gasped in mock horror at the other woman's indiscretion.
"Mum?" Caroline's oldest daughter, Sara, Emma recalled, came in from the kitchen.
"Yes darling?" Caroline tenderly stroked a lock of hair off her daughter's forehead.
"Are we going to open presents?"
"Yes we are -- as soon as the kitchen is done."
"Lady Emma, will you join us?" Sara looked across the table.
"I wouldn't miss it," Emma said. "But please call me Emma -- Sir Peter kept the titles in the divorce."
"Did you divorce him because you love Uncle?"
"Sara Elizabeth!" Caroline gently swatted the girl on the behind.
"But Uncle loves her, mum. It would be dreadful if she didn't love him."
"And what do you think, young lady?" Caroline said, glancing at Emma to see if the other woman was upset. Emma was startled at the girl's forthrightness, but something about her tone reminded Emma of herself.
"I think they're crazy about each other," Sara proclaimed. Both she and Caroline looked to Emma for a response.
"Sara, I am quite in love with your uncle. Do you mind terribly?"
"Off with you then, Miss Sara," Caroline said, "you've done enough damage here." Sara grinned impishly, picked up an empty serving bowl, and trotted back to the kitchen. "Thirteen years old and a hopeless romantic," Caroline said.
"She's not the only one around here, I think," Emma said, winking at the other woman.
"Let's make some coffee and move into the parlor. The children are allowed to open one present this evening, and then I think you and Johnny might have an announcement," she looked pointedly at Emma's hands.
"Oh. Well, we hadn't thought."
"Have you set a date?"
"No. Not yet. My divorce isn't final and we just -- ."
"A word of advice dear," Caroline stood up, "don't delay too long."
The coffee was nearly done, and the children were circling the Christmas Tree with its piles of wrapped gifts, when Steed and Harry came in from outside.
"Here, now, before you get comfortable," Caroline stopped her husband half way through removing his coat, "Go on out and get the bags from that silly old car of John's." She turned to Emma, who was stacking cups and saucers on a tray. "We're so crowded this year, we've put you two in the boys room," she said with a wink.
"Come on Steed, give me a hand," Harry said, dragging Steed out of the kitchen before Emma could catch his eye.
Caroline stepped closer to her to speak more quietly. "There are two beds in that room. See that both are slept in. I want nothing happening that my girls couldn't walk in on," she said firmly. Emma nodded, trying to look serious, although the look on Caroline's face suggested that she didn't mean a word of what she said. "And, just so you know, there is a lock on that door."
She scooped up the tray of cups and saucers and strode out of the kitchen, laughing as she went. Emma heard one of the girls ask her what was funny as she entered the parlor, but she didn't hear Caroline's answer.
The following days were filled with Christmas carols and snowball fights and canters across the snowy fields around the Hill's home. For the most part Emma put the estate and Knight Industries out of her mind and enjoyed the novel experience of being part of a large family. For his part, Steed watched her conspire with the children, play with the dogs, and help his sister prepare meals, and his happiness grew every day.
A few days after Christmas, after a day spent mostly outdoors in the snow, Steed and Emma settled in on a sofa in front of the fire while Caroline and Harry escorted the children to bed. Steed stretched out on his side leaving room for Emma to snuggle in front of him and rest her head on his forearm.
"Penny for your thoughts," he whispered as she caressed his hands.
"Your brother-in-law could be very successful in the City of London," she said, referring to London's financial district. "There are trading firms that would pay handsomely for the services he performs for the mining firm."
"Don't you dare put ideas in his head," Steed warned, but his tone was light. "Caro likes her big old country house."
"He wouldn't necessarily have to move there."
Steed pressed his lips against the top of her head, enjoying the fresh scent of her hair. His brother-in-law's career had been the last thing on his mind, and he didn't quite know what more to say.
"Penny for your thoughts, Steed," Emma whispered.
"I think it's time to get you back to your natural environment, Mrs. Peel. Shall we go back up to London tomorrow?"
She sighed and pulled his arms tighter around her. He desperately wanted to allow his body to respond to hers, to allow his hands to wander over her. They had been honoring his sister's half-serious request, and he did admit it was only appropriate. But a man could only take so much.
"What about your natural environment, Steed?" she asked. "Surely there must be some evil doer you have to pursue."
"No, but there are some important secrets I have to protect," he admitted. "In a few days. Will you join me for New Year's Eve? A party with a military flare."
"A working party?"
"Deep background."
Emma switched on her desk lamp and perched on the edge of her chair to study the small stack of messages Sally had left for her. She sorted them as she read, picking up an open letter and comparing a phone number in it with one of the messages. She smiled.
"Working already?" Steed asked. He was leaning in the doorway, a glass of brandy in his hand.
"Just checking my messages," she replied, more sharply than she'd intended. She was tired, and the prospect of returning to her busy reality after a particularly pleasant holiday was depressing. She set down the slips and rose. "It's been rather busy for the holidays."
"But nothing you can do about any of it tonight," he pointed out, frowning at her tone.
"No. I suppose not," she brushed past him out into the hall. Frown deepening, he stepped over to her desk and set down his brandy. His fingers idly spread out the pile of message slips, then he noticed the letter she'd been holding. He nudged it out from under the messages.
. . . wanted to tell you that my broker, Mr. Brooks, would be interested in meeting with you regarding Knight Industries immediately after the holidays. I took the liberty of giving him your telephone number. I hope you don't mind, but if you do I shall accept whatever punishment you care to deliver. . .
Steed's eyes darted to the bottom of the single page to the signature.
Bond.
Steed pushed the message slips back over the note and stared blankly across the room. She was looking for Knight Industries stockholders. And somehow Bond was involved. Why Bond? And why has she not told me? He looked back down at the desk, recognizing a glossy black Knight Industries annual report under the other papers. Apparently she doesn't need my help. Or want it. He picked up his glass and gulped the fine brandy, then set it back down with a clunk. I'll just leave her to it, then.
He strode out of the office and down the stairs. Slamming the big front door made a satisfying whump.
"Steed?" Emma stepped into the hall from her bedroom. She was sure she'd heard the front door. Frowning, she walked to the landing. Through the windows on either side of the door she saw the Bentley's head lamps come on and the car move away. "Steed?" she repeated softly, baffled and a little frightened. She walked on across the landing and into the other wing where her office door stood open, the light from the desk lamp casting a rectangular patch of light on the hallway carpet. She walked over to her desk, picking up his half-consumed glass of brandy. She studied the message slips and the note from James underneath. The letter was mostly covered, but the signature was clearly visible. Not that she had any illusions that he hadn't read it. But how could he be jealous of James helping her with a business matter? How could he possibly doubt her devotion to him?
Annoyed, she finished off his brandy and switched off the lamp. Fine. Let him stew for a few days. Maybe he'll be very silly and challenge James. That would be amusing, particularly when James tells him how unresponsive I've been to him.