Читать книгу Historical Romance May 2017 Books 1 - 4 - Bronwyn Scott - Страница 19
ОглавлениеJane sat at the burled-wood-and-gilded writing desk in the sitting room to review receipts and the correspondence she’d collected in regards to the building. The new furniture would be delivered in a few days, an elegant and sizeable amount commissioned by a London merchant who had been sunk by the sudden drop in coffee prices. Jane had snatched up the unpaid goods at a splendid price and they would soon be installed at the club.
Jasper had yet to rise and, if it hadn’t been for Mrs Hodgkin interrupting her more than once to discuss the dinner menus, she would have been quite alone this morning. After the delight of the theatre, this wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured spending today.
Johnson, the butler, entered with a few letters. ‘Would you like me to leave these here or take them up to Mr Charton?’
‘You can leave them here. They’re enquiries into services. We needn’t bother Mr Charton with them.’
Johnson placed the letters on the table beside her then left, his wan face not betraying whatever he thought about his employer sleeping so late. Jasper had mostly been at his parents’ house since coming home and all the servants in this one were new. They knew as much about his affairs as they did about his gaming hell, which was nothing. They were kept in the dark about it to make sure they didn’t inadvertently mention it in front of his family. They thought he went to a club for gentlemen merchants every night.
Jane set down her pen and rose. She wandered to the window and pushed aside a curtain to take in Gough Square. A nurse and her young charges were out in the centre, enjoying their daily walk, and there was no one else to be seen. The clerks and shop owners who filled the houses in the square were up and hard at work, including her, while her husband slept.
She turned away from the window and leaned against it, biting the nail of her thumb. Jasper couldn’t have built a successful gaming hell if he was a layabout.
Maybe I should be glad he’s still in bed. Once he was up they’d have to face each other and the lingering questions and awkwardness of last night. He hadn’t been pleased to see her then—she wasn’t sure he’d be any more excited by her presence now.
It left a sour taste in her mouth as she sat down to read a note from the painters about progress on the Fleet Street property’s walls and she tried her best to forget it. Hopefully, his distance and reluctance to talk to her was nothing more than a fluke. Years ago, there’d been times when Philip, after seizing collateral in the middle of the night to keep a debtor from making off with it, had been up, too agitated to sleep. She’d come downstairs to sit with him and talk. Unlike Jasper, Philip had welcomed her company.
Enough of this. It had taken a while for Laura and Philip to come together nine years ago. It hadn’t been easy and they’d struggled during their first few months of marriage to become acquainted with one another after wedding as strangers. Jane had the advantage of a long history with Jasper and their entire lives together, but it didn’t mean the adjustment to their new situation wouldn’t be difficult. This was only a setback and setbacks were to be expected. She would be sensible about this and not act like a flustered lover or dwell on the incident and make it worse.
She began a reply to the painters when the sound of the front knocker made her pause. It was loud and she hoped it didn’t wake Jasper. She twisted the new gold bracelet on her arm as she listened to the butler open the door. She expected to hear the butcher she’d summoned to give her a price on his goods. Instead, a gaggle of female voices filled the house.
Jasper’s sisters.
Before the butler could announce them, they spilled into the sitting room in a wave of chatter and greetings.
‘I hope you don’t mind us intruding.’ Olivia tossed her reticule in a chair to announce she didn’t care whether she was intruding or not, she intended to stay.
‘We were shopping nearby and wanted to see how you were getting on,’ Alice added.
‘Oh, I adore the way you’ve rearranged the furniture.’ Lily peered about the room, adjusting her dark curls after removing her bonnet. She flung it down on top of the pile of reticules and pelisses rapidly mounting on the chair.
‘I assume Jasper is at the club today?’ Alice asked while she removed her gloves.
‘Yes, he’s usually there during the day. I sometimes go with him, but I had to stay behind to see to some other matters.’ Jane glanced out of the sitting-room door and at the empty stairway just beyond it. She hoped Jasper didn’t wake up and come downstairs. If he did, he should hear his sisters and know better than to reveal his presence. She was sure neither of them wanted to make excuses for why he was home or for his sisters to think he didn’t work as hard as their husbands, or that there was some reason Jane had lied to them about where he’d been. She didn’t like lying, but it was necessary. He did work as hard as their husbands, but not at a business they would approve of, at least not yet. It almost made her wish the sisters would leave so she could return to the organising of the club. The sooner it opened, the sooner Jasper might leave the hell and whatever had made him so aloof this morning.
‘Make sure he doesn’t work too hard,’ Lily admonished as she sat down at the small tea table near the window. ‘He always comes to Mother and Father’s appearing exhausted. I’ve seen smaller bags at the coaching inn than beneath Jasper’s eyes.’
‘Perhaps it isn’t work keeping him up...’ Olivia suggested.
The sisters threw back their heads in laughter. Jane smiled, not as amused. In the past, with them being so much older than her, they’d rarely paid her much mind. Today, they treated her like their equal, not a young naive girl to be instructed or ignored, and she was repaying their respect with fibs and falsehoods. Jasper was right, it wasn’t easy deceiving everyone they knew.
‘Johnson, tea,’ Olivia called as she joined her sisters at the tea table. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Jane. Forgive me for forgetting my place, this is your home now.’
‘I don’t mind.’ But she did mind them calling unannounced. It would be difficult to hide Jasper sleeping in the mornings if his sisters decided to make a regular habit of it.
‘When will Jasper be back? I want to chide him for making you work at all,’ Lily enquired. They’d always chipped at each other more than the other siblings, because she, being closest in age to Jasper, had felt it her place to boss him around. It appeared she still did.
‘I don’t know,’ Jane mumbled as she took hold of the back of the chair to pull it out and sit down. She didn’t want to give them a time and have them lingering here waiting for him to return and then catch him coming from upstairs.
Alice grabbed Jane’s wrist and held it up, letting out a long whistle as she admired the new gold bracelet. ‘How beautiful. Did Jasper give it to you?’
‘He did.’
‘Tristan never gives me such elaborate gifts,’ Alice complained as she took the chair beside Jane’s.
Lily eyed the bracelet with her mother’s scrutiny. ‘Uncle Patrick must have left Jasper more money than he told us about for him to be able to afford such things.’
‘Yes, he did.’ Thank goodness she wasn’t wearing the earrings. She didn’t need to raise any additional questions about Jasper’s income, ones she had no intention of answering.
‘Oh, Lily, stop being so practical and allow them to enjoy themselves,’ Olivia scolded before turning to Jane. ‘Is all going well with the club? We expect it will open soon?’
They all leaned in to hear Jane’s answer.
‘Soon.’ Jane smiled a little too wide, not liking this topic any better than the one about money or Jasper’s whereabouts. ‘There’s no end of details to deal with.’
‘Oh, don’t we know.’ They all shook their heads in agreement, each of them active in their respective husbands’ businesses, as well as minding the children and running the households. The reminder of their own responsibilities turned the conversation from Jane and Jasper’s affairs to the sisters’ second-favourite topic besides gossip: family. All during tea they discussed their husbands and children, sparing Jane from any more awkward questions, but not relieving her worry Jasper might appear and raise more. If he did, she hoped he had a good reason for why he was upstairs when Jane had said he was out, for she didn’t.
* * *
After an hour of tea and conversation, the Charton sisters rose to take their leave.
Olivia dug into her reticule and withdrew a note for Jane. ‘I almost forgot. Mother and Father have decided to hold their first dinner for you the evening after next. Say you can make it.’
‘We can.’ Jane fingered the invitation, pretending once again to be elated. She’d spent the better part of the morning deceiving the sisters about her and Jasper’s income and habits. She didn’t relish further sullying her conscience by making up more tales during an entire evening with Jasper’s parents, except there was no avoiding it.
‘I remember my first dinner after Daniel and I married,’ Lily mused, then pursed her lips in displeasure. ‘Jacob drank so much he made himself sick.’
‘If Alice hadn’t smuggled him so many glasses of port it never would have happened.’ Olivia laughed, too much like their father to mind.
‘I did no such thing,’ Alice protested as the sisters made their way out of the house and to their waiting carriage.
Johnson closed the door behind the chatting sisters, then held out a letter to Jane. ‘Mrs Charton, this arrived while you were with the ladies.’
Jane took the missive, turning the cheap and wrinkled paper over to read Jasper’s name and address written in a round and flowing hand, a woman’s hand.
Jane swallowed hard until she noticed the postmark. Savannah. Whoever this was, she was safely on the other side of the ocean.
And still writing to Jasper.
Jane turned the letter over a few times, wondering if she should open it. She wasn’t a jealous person, but the strange way he’d behaved this morning, and the distance between them as they’d lain together in bed, gripped her. She wondered if this woman had something to do with his change in attitude.
His business being hers, she saw no reason to leave it sealed except for fear. Inside the tattered missive might be a truth about Jasper she didn’t wish to discover. She wasn’t sure she could bear the humiliation of learning she didn’t have Jasper’s real affection and never would.
Stop this! She didn’t want to cower beneath her fears and worries.
‘I’ll take it up to him.’ She might keep their business from his sisters, but she would not countenance secrets between them. Whatever this was, she would face it and deal with it.
Jane marched upstairs and into Jasper’s room. She threw open the curtains and a wash of sunlight lit up the bed.
‘What are you doing?’ Jasper grumbled from where he lay in a tangle of white sheets and pillows. He sat up, blinking at her, his hair mussed, a slight stubble along his jaw. In the open collar of his shirt she caught the sheen of perspiration. Her interest in the mysterious letter began to ebb at the sight of him and she fingered the curtain, her skin warmed by more than the sun on her back. She longed to linger with him in bed, but it wasn’t her habit to be so wanton during the day, especially when there were issues to address.
‘It’s time for you to get up.’ She let go of the curtain and perched beside him on the bed, flicking the letter with the edge of one nail, reluctant to bring it up despite her former determination. ‘Your sisters were here. They said you need more sleep.’
‘Do they now?’ Like all younger brothers he didn’t think much of their wisdom. ‘Apparently, you don’t agree with them.’
She ignored his comment. ‘And they want more nieces and nephews.’
‘It’ll be difficult to do both at the same time, but I’m certainly willing to try.’ He took her arm and pulled her against his chest, the merriment of the theatre enveloping them again. The strange man from before dawn was gone and her old friend was with her once more. He was warm against her bare arms, his skin moist from the spring air filling the room. It contrasted with the coolness of the sheets in the part of the bed where he hadn’t been lying. She slid closer to him, allowing his kiss to make her forget all the worries and concerns of this morning and the letter.
He laid her down against the sheets, covering her body with the delicious weight of his. She hooked one leg around his, her dress sliding up to reveal her thigh, and he clasped it with one hot hand, meeting her urgency. He slid his hand beneath the muslin of her skirt and traced the line of the ribbon holding up the top of her silk stockings.
The letter in her hand crinkled, reminding her why she’d come up here. She flung it away and surrendered to his need and hers. He was her Jasper again, tender and attentive, his body as familiar to her as her own. He belonged to her, despite his past and hers, and the distance between them from before dawn was forgotten as they melded together.
* * *
Jasper lay against the sweat-dampened sheets, the anxiety of last night and this morning driven off by Jane’s sweet caresses. He smoothed her hair and she turned to look up at him, her chin on his chest and her firm breasts pressed against his stomach. A wariness their lovemaking had banished returned to draw her lips tight. It was the same look she’d greeted him with when she’d first marched in here. It unsettled him and he reached for her to drive away her censure or uncertainty with his caresses.
He tucked one slender lock behind her ear, then cupped her cheek with his hand. He shouldn’t have pushed her away this morning. He should have confided in her, told her about Lord Fenton’s threat and allowed her sweet voice and curving arms to soothe him. But there was no reason to undermine her peace of mind by suggesting the hell and the money he made from it might be in danger. Without his income, her dream of the club and a fine life beside him, the one she’d envisioned when she’d first proposed they marry, would end. Let her be a happy wife for as long as possible, the two of them enjoying each other and the pleasures of life, not mired in all its troubles and confusions. Jasper had tasted enough bitterness in Savannah. He didn’t need it here. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘A letter arrived while you were sleeping.’
‘Not bad news, I hope?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t open it. It’s for you.’ She leaned over and snatched it off the floor, curving her back and tempting him with the roundness of her bare buttocks. Before he could do more than caress the firm flesh, she sat up, her hair falling down her shoulders to cover her breasts, the delight in her eyes dimming as she held out the paper. ‘It’s from Savannah.’
All his passion crashed to the floor.
He took the envelope. The weeks it had taken for the letter to cross the Atlantic in the musty hold of a ship had left it watermarked and wrinkled along the corners, but it hadn’t obscured the handwriting. He recognised it at once.
‘Who’s it from?’ she asked.
The distance he’d kept from her this morning returned to slap him again. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Moments ago, they’d been open and vulnerable with one another—now he intended to close off a part of himself again. ‘Maybe a land developer or merchant needs me to sign a paper. In the rush to settle my affairs, I probably forgot something.’
‘It’s in a woman’s hand.’
‘With so many dead, often widows are the only ones left to do business with.’ It was a partial truth and the best he could offer her.
‘I see.’ Her shoulders eased, but not the anxiety making her bite her bottom lip.
He slipped his hand behind her neck and drew her to him. ‘Don’t worry, there’s no woman in my life except you, not in London or anywhere else.’
‘You promise?’
‘I do.’ He swept her lips with an honest and tender kiss, then rose, despising himself and all his lies. ‘Now, I must dress. There’s a solicitor I plan to visit, one recommended by Mr Steed, who might be interested in our offer of retaining his services for our clients.’
‘Good.’ There was no enthusiasm in her word, just suspicion and wariness and it faded the glow from their lovemaking.
He tugged one finely pressed and folded shirt out of the wardrobe and pulled it on. ‘I thought we might visit the Royal Theatre tomorrow night since we’ve already seen Drury Lane. I’ve never been there. Would you like that?’
‘Yes, it would be grand.’ She didn’t sound elated.
He turned to his mirror to tie his cravat, aware of her watching him, the room shrinking and tightening under her scrutiny and his own unease. He couldn’t open the letter in front of her. There would be too many questions and answers he refused to give. He wished he had a private space of his own. With the exception of his office at the hell there wasn’t one so he endured the present tension. He had no choice.
He shrugged on his coat, eager to be free of her questioning glances and the hesitation marring her natural spontaneity. It was too much like the way his parents used to regard him whenever he left the house after dinner while tossing lies at them about where he was going. He hadn’t expected or wanted it to be like this with Jane and it hadn’t been, until today. He sat down to pull on his boots, struggling to remain cheerful and light under the weight of her presence. ‘I saw a necklace at the jeweller’s yesterday. It would go well with your earrings. Would you like it?’
‘If you want to buy it for me.’ She shrugged, her breasts rising and falling to tempt him to stay, to take her in his arms and touch the connection they’d enjoyed when they’d come together, but he didn’t. The letter and everything it meant was a wall between them and at this moment he could not overcome it. ‘Lily already thinks you’re being too extravagant and your inheritance must be larger than you’ve told everyone. I said it was. I misled them about a number of things this morning.’
‘I told you it wouldn’t be easy.’ Jasper brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers, leaving his hand to linger by her face, wanting to drive away the strife clouding her eyes, but he couldn’t.
He was causing her distress, but he refused to discuss his concerns about Captain Christiansen or the reason for the letter from Savannah. It pained him to keep so many things from her, but she’d already been forced to lie to her brother and sister-in-law at the wedding breakfast, and to his sisters, and he’d noticed the anxiety it caused her. He couldn’t ask her to carry any more of his secrets than he already had.
‘And I accepted it so I have no one to blame but myself,’ she replied with a bravery her sad eyes betrayed. She did blame him because she’d guessed he wasn’t telling her everything, especially about the letter.
He tucked the missive in his coat pocket, hiding it away like he hid the story behind it. Every day they were together, he danced closer and closer to telling her the truth. He was deceiving her like he was everyone else and it hurt more than any of the other times he’d done it. He’d vowed to make her the most important person in his life and he could keep the promise. However, he hadn’t vowed to reveal his whole self to her, both the good and the dark so tortured he shuddered to think of it. He wouldn’t have her spit on him the way Mrs Robillard had. ‘It’ll change soon.’
‘Will it?’ It was the first hint of doubt since before the wedding and it increased his own.
‘Of course. Now I must go before I lose what’s left of the day.’
* * *
Jane watched Jasper all but sprint from the room, and her. They’d been so close when they’d made love. Then she’d shown him the letter. He might have smiled and chatted as though all were well, but it wasn’t and once again he’d balked at telling her why. All she could surmise was that it had to do with the hell, and Savannah, and it wasn’t as simple as a forgotten signature or missed transaction.
She picked up her discarded clothes and began to dress, at a loss for what to do. It wasn’t in her nature not to insist on having her way, but she couldn’t chase Jasper down and demand he speak with her. She didn’t want to drive him off more than she already had and risk losing the warmth of his touch or the joy of his company. Assuming it wasn’t fading already, or perhaps something she’d never really possessed.
She clutched her chemise to her chest, Mrs Fairley’s words about her not really knowing him coming back to her. The modiste was right—after nine years apart, there were aspects of Jasper still hidden from her, including his full life in Savannah. He might have come home, but it didn’t mean his heart wasn’t with someone there. He’d done nothing before to make her suspect another woman, but catching cheaters wasn’t her strength.
She shimmied into her stays, reached around behind her and began to lace them up, pulling so hard on the laces she feared they might snap. She refused to be left alone and forgotten by the one man who’d pledged before their family and friends to cherish her, but if his heart lay elsewhere, there was little she could do to secure it. If she pestered him too much for affection and confidences he didn’t want to give, then one day she might awake to discover him gone, the way his brother had disappeared to Scotland.
She let go of the laces and slumped down on the edge of the bed. They might be married, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t leave her. Not even a ring or a ceremony could bind him to her if he didn’t want to be bound. He must still have friends in America. He could go back and make a new life for himself while leaving her here to wonder when and if he might ever return. Being abandoned would be a bigger embarrassment than never having married.
She rose and jerked on her dress. Let him leave me. The marriage gave her the freedom to engage in trade without censure. Except it was no longer an occupation she wanted without Jasper. He did care about her, he always had. His kiss had been as honest as his caresses, but something had changed between them over the last couple of days and she wasn’t sure what it was or why.
Sadly, she had no idea how to cross this new barrier or bring out the man she’d met at the altar, and there was no one she could discuss it with. He’d sworn her to secrecy about their life together so she could hardly have tea with Laura and ask for advice. She’d have to figure this out on her own. She rose to finish dressing, trying to keep her chin and her spirits up. She would be sensible about this. They were married and would be together every day. She’d find a way to pry his troubles from him and banish them so they never came between them again, despite the sickening feeling this was darker and deeper than she was prepared to face. Give her contracts or loans any day. She could handle those, but things like emotions and marital relations left her baffled.
* * *
Hearty laughter drifted in from the gaming room, making Jasper look up from signing debts. Jasper couldn’t share in his clients’ joy, not with his missteps with Jane and the unopened letter staring at him. After he’d left her, he’d paid a call on the solicitor, treating the man to a fine dinner while enticing him to work for the club. When Jasper had ordered a second bottle of wine, he’d tried to convince himself it was to woo the man, but it wasn’t the real reason he’d chosen to dine out. It was to avoid Jane.
Facing her before dawn after Lord Fenton’s visit had been difficult. He hadn’t meant to be short with her, but he’d needed peace and a chance to ponder things. It was difficult to do with her so close and insistent on asking him what was wrong. Better she remain ignorant of the workings of the hell in case real trouble descended on them.
Then, when all had been well this afternoon, and he’d held her in his arms thinking their early morning troubles were over, the letter had reared its ugly head. He should’ve been more cordial in addressing her concerns, but his mind had turn to brick when she’d handed him the letter. The more sleep he lost, the harder it was for him to maintain control, the way it had been impossible for Uncle Patrick to remain calm when Jasper had demanded he do right by Mr Robillard.
Jasper closed his eyes, still able to see Uncle Patrick standing across from him in the old Savannah gaming room, his full face as red as his ruby ring.
‘You’re choosing that spineless planter over me after everything I’ve done for you?’
‘What you’re doing isn’t right and you know it.’
‘Now you’re the moralist? You didn’t mind taking his money before and spending it on your fancy house and fine things, did you?’
The anguish of facing the man he’d once admired, his image of him warped like a bad mirror by his experiences, still burned. Everything he’d believed and cultivated about himself and his life in Savannah had died in that moment.
He opened his eyes. The letter sat before him on the blotter. He couldn’t ignore it any longer.
He tore it open and unfolded the paper to read Mrs Robillard’s words.
Dear Mr Charton,
I am writing to inform you my eldest son, Jackson, has decided to apprentice with a doctor in Boston. As you might imagine, the cost is beyond what I am able to afford.
I am grateful for the assistance you continue to provide to me and my children. I appeal to you to forward these additional funds to allow Jackson to set himself up in the world, as you are the one who helped pull his father down. I have included the amount and where it should be sent.
I look forward to your prompt reply.
Mrs Robillard
Jasper set the missive on the blotter. Despite everything Jasper had done for her and her children, her hate showed in every word. Unlike his uncle, he recognised how much he deserved it.
He wrote a note to Mr Steed to send the requested money and a little more for Jackson’s living expenses. It was the right thing to do, even if no amount could ever undo the damage he and Uncle Patrick had wrought or the way it still haunted him.
Mr Bronson knocked once, then entered, less jovial than usual. ‘Not a very lucrative night for us.’
Jasper’s pen stilled over the paper. He glanced at the paintings adorning the walls. They weren’t reproductions, his uncle having acquired most of them in payment for debts. They were a safeguard against too many losses. Most men might come here for business connections instead of cards, but it didn’t mean Jasper’s fortunes couldn’t change the same way Mr Robillard’s had. He’d made rules against how much a client could lose, but not the amount they could win. ‘Anything I should be concerned about?’
‘No, just Mr Portland enjoying a good run of luck. They never last. I don’t expect his to.’
‘Let’s hope not.’ Jasper sealed the note to his solicitor, not as cavalier about Mr Portland’s winning streak as Mr Bronson, especially when a cheer rattled the paintings behind him. Part of him hoped Mr Portland’s good fortune held. If he won enough to bankrupt this place it might be a godsend, forcing Jasper out of this life and all contact with it for good. Except without the income from the hell he couldn’t pay for Jackson Robillard’s future, his employees’ or Jane’s.
‘Something wrong?’ Mr Bronson asked.
‘I received a letter from Mrs Robillard.’
Mr Bronson nodded, needing no explanation. He’d been there and seen everything.
Jasper sat back and laced his hands over his stomach. ‘Tell me, if the quarantine hadn’t been imposed and Uncle Patrick hadn’t fallen ill, could I have convinced him to return Mr Robillard’s plantation?’
Mr Bronson took his pipe out of his pocket and tapped the bowl against his palm. ‘I like to think regaining your good opinion meant more to him than being king of the manor, but it’s hard to say. He could be a good man to those he cared about, but he had a nasty streak, too. He tried to keep it from you because he used to say if someone like you admired him then he couldn’t be all bad, then Mr Robillard came along. It was the first time you got a glimpse of what a grasping bastard Patrick could be. It’s why he got mad at you. Realised he couldn’t fool you any longer.’
This wasn’t anything Jasper hadn’t mulled over during the countless hours alone in his house in Savannah during the quarantine while he’d listened to the cannons being fired to clean the air, his body hollowed out with hunger and the stench of death all around him. There’d been warnings before Mr Robillard: a debtor beaten up here, a man thrown out there, furniture and goods appearing in the middle of the night with no explanation asked and none offered. Jasper had chosen to ignore these, too enamoured of Uncle Patrick to see the truth until Mr Robillard had forced it on him.
He twisted the ruby ring on his finger, his uncle’s ring, the one he’d removed from his hand before the men had come to take his body away. Jasper hid the truth about his past from Jane, the way Uncle Patrick had hidden his from Jasper. It wasn’t right, but if he snatched away her illusions the way Mr Robillard had stolen his, she might despise him as much as Jasper had his uncle. He couldn’t bear to see her admiration for him turn to disgust. Without her, he might never be more than the damaged and deceitful man who climbed the warehouse stairs each night. He wanted to be more, even if he wasn’t sure if it was possible. He would do all he could to shield Jane from the destruction of her dreams, but the letter’s arrival reminded him of how many things were out of his control.
Jasper rose and handed Mr Bronson the signed debts, returning to business. Things had happened and no amount of ‘what ifs’ could undo them. He must move forward, no matter how much the past still hung on him. Too many people relied on him for him to succumb to his doubts, though they seemed to increase every day.
