The pattern had gotten more and more complicated as her skill had grown.
“I am sure your mother will be most pleased.” Lucy pointed to the work.
“Well, even if she is not pleased with the skill, I am sure she will be relieved that I have ‘thrown myself at last into a most ladylike pastime’.” Emily said the last in an imitation of her mother’s voice.
Lucy laughed softly and shook her head. “Yet you still remain yourself, Miss.”
“Of course, who else would I wish to be?” Emily laughed, but felt a tug of sadness within her.Is this really who I am?“I wondered if you might read to me while embroider a little more?”
Lucy nodded, her face lighting up. “It would be my pleasure. Shall I continue where we last left off?”
It was their usual arrangement, a way that Emily might have someone read to her without inspiring any gossip. One could hardly be expected to read when their hands were full of embroidery.
“Actually, I was thinking you might read me something new.” Emily gestured to the book Lord Baine had lent her.
“Of course, Miss. I would be happy to.” Lucy smiled at her, but the smile turned to a frown as she picked up the book. “This may be slower for me to read to you, Miss, than our usual novels.”
“I am sure you will try your best.” Emily gave her an encouraging smile.
“Chapter one: ideas in general and their origin.” Lucy swallowed. “Everyone is con-conscious to himself that he thinks; and when thinking is going on, the mind is engaged with ideas that it contains…”
There was a pause and Lucy’s. “So it is past doubt that men have in their minds… I am afraid I do not understand a word of this, Miss Pembleton, but if you do, I shall happily continue reading.”
“Perhaps if you read the sentence again, I might better be able to understand it?” Emily suggested, even as her heart sank. “Lord Baine recommended it to me, though he did say it might be somewhat hard going.”
Lucy began to read from the book again, and Emily took up her embroidery. She let the words wash over her, frowning as she tried to understand them. At the same time, she tried to decide what to add to her pattern.
The image of a horse and a castle sprung to her mind, and she began to create them in her motif. As she did so, she listened to Lucy, often asking her to repeat what she had just read.
“Is he saying that men get ideas from nothing? Or some other thing?” Emily muttered to herself. “Does it even matter where ideas come from?”
“I am not sure Miss.” Lucy bit her lip.
“Let us try chapter eleven. That is the one Lord Baine initially referenced.” Emily said bracingly.Perhaps if I understand enough of that chapter, I will not have needed to read the whole book to hold a conversation with the man.
“As you wish, Miss Emily.” Lucy turned to the chapter in question and began to read.
“Another faculty we may take notice of in our minds is… that of… disker… discerning and disting… distinguish… distinguishing ideas from one another.” Lucy stumbled over the words.
Emily’s head swam as her maid continued to read.A beautiful game.She wondered if Duke Warren had read any of Locke for his brother. It seemed likely.Does he find it tedious?
She pictured him, the familiar disinterest in his eyes as he shook his head at his brother’s obsession with philosophy. She found herself smiling, and then realised what she was doing and stopped.
“I am hardly going to win his approval if I show no interest in his brother’s hobbies.” Emily muttered to herself.
“Pardon?” Lucy asked, sounding relieved as she looked up from the book.
“Nothing. Please, continue reading.” Emily nodded her head towards the book in her maid’s hands.
Lucy’s face fell and she read, “A man who is very level-headed and has a good mind most of the time may in one kind of context be as frantic as any in the mad-house… Do you think he is joking?”
“If he is, I cannot understand it.” Emily admitted. “Or perhaps he is suggesting that all men are capable of madness?”
“Perhaps.” Lucy nodded and read, “This can happen because—either through some sudden very strong impression, or through his long fixing his mind on thoughts of one kind—incoherent ideas have been cemented together in his mind so powerfully as to remain united there.”
“Would you be able to read that last part again? Perhaps a little slower?” Emily asked.
Lucy did as she asked, several times over, but each time she read the passage, Emily only grew more confused.
