Flaming June

by Emma V. Leech

  Her mind was turning in circles. The family had been wealthy once, perhaps they still were? Perhaps she could give her child the life it deserved here. Henry was not in a fit state to interfere in her life. Perhaps, once this desire to paint her had subsided, as Jack seemed certain it would, perhaps then she could live as she wished. She could negotiate terms.

  Excitement and panic and hope collided in her heart, making her chest tight and her breath short.

  “Henry,” she said, rather startled when his eyes snapped to hers in an instant. “Why? Why do you want me to stay?”

  He sat, pulling the chair close to her, that intense glitter in his eyes again. “I want you to stay,” he said, a rather feverish tone to the words.

  “Yes, but why?” she asked, wondering if he even understood the question. Was he a halfwit? Good Lord, but the humiliation when this got about, but at least the house was secluded. She could keep out of sight until her scandal died down. Henry did not socialise, that much was obvious. There would be no dinner parties or trips to the theatre.

  If she married John Smythe, he’d want to parade her about the county like a prize sow. Henry didn’t like people, though, Jack had told her that. She could live here in peace. She’d not have to face it. When the child was old enough, they would leave, start again somewhere else. France, perhaps? She spoke excellent French.

  “Why do you want me to stay?” She wondered why it even mattered, but if he had some nefarious plan for her, she wanted to know. If he was a halfwit, he may well admit to it.

  “I …” he began and then swallowed. “I want.” He paused and rubbed the back of his neck. “I want to draw you, paint you, too. I want to see.” He gestured to her rounded belly and Isabella sucked in a breath, covering the swell of her pregnancy with both hands in a protective gesture. “I want to see it born,” he added, the words shocking her so much that she found it impossible to speak at all for a moment.

  “No!” she exclaimed as she found her tongue, staring at him in horror as he rushed to his feet, moving away from her as fast as he could. This strange man seeing her in such a vulnerable state? It was enough to make her breath come fast, her head spinning as she fought the urge to pass out. “Never!” she added as he stood, staring at her in alarm.

  He looked so puzzled by her outburst, she almost laughed.

  He moved a little closer, his dark brows drawn together. “Why not?”

  “Why not?” she repeated, incredulous as she turned to stare at Jack, who had been listening with obvious dismay.

  “Henry, she’s not a rabbit or a cat you can study, for the love of everything holy!” Jack exclaimed. “It’s not done, lad.”

  Henry frowned, folding his arms as he scowled at the floor, his frustration clear.

  “He likes to see how things work,” Jack said to her, holding his hands out in a manner that asked for understanding. “He can’t understand why seeing you … why it’s any different. Henry doesn’t understand the rules like most folks do. He’s not trying to offend you, he’s just … interested.”

  Isabella made a startled noise and sucked in a breath. She needed to think about this in the light of her diminishing options. Henry was frightening, but he didn’t appear dangerous, Jack had said he wasn’t. Between a halfwit and a well-meaning servant, she could take control and make a place for herself here. A woman of her determination and breeding could manage a grand house like this. It was what her mother had bred her for. Right now, she ought to be mistress of Longwold. Isabella snorted at the idea. Then she thought about all the beauty she had seen in this house. If she took it in hand, it would shine again, it would regain its beauty, its grandeur, and be everything it had once been. Isabella let out a breath as the idea took hold.

  She could learn the way Henry needed handling in time. Jack would teach her. If she kept him calm and found him enough things to paint, they need never see each other.

  Isabella turned to Jack. “Does he always paint the same subjects?” she asked him, irritated when the man scowled at her.

  “Why not ask him?” he snapped, folding his arms.

  “Because I don’t know if he’s capable of giving me an answer,” she replied, huffing with impatience.

  “He’s not stupid,” Jack growled, pulling his chair out and sitting down as he glowered at her. “And no. Henry will draw or paint the same thing over and again until he feels he’s studied it in enough detail to record it, to understand it, then he’ll move on.”

  Isabella nodded, turning back to Henry. He stared back at her, hope in his eyes. For such a large and strange fellow as he was, it was a rather vulnerable, soft expression.

  “You’ll have to wash and shave and wear clean clothes,” she said, ignoring the twinge of recognition that pulled at her heart. “Often,” she added, wrinkling her nose.

  Henry frowned but nodded.

  “This place will need cleaning and I’ll need things, dresses, things for the child.”

  She watched as Henry shot Jack a rather panicked glance. Jack returned an I told you so expression that made Henry’s jaw tighten.

  “No people,” he said, his voice deep and commanding, at odds with the anxious, uncertain man he seemed to be.

  “Well, that’s not going to work,” Isabella retorted, folding her arms and frowning at him. “I’m not living under a foot of filth and dust, Henry.”

  “No people.”

  Isabella stared back at him, noting the stubborn glint in his eyes with misgiving. Whatever he was, the man wasn’t a pushover. Still, she had time. Men could be managed, even a man like Henry, it was only a matter of discovering the knack.

  “This will be a marriage in name only,” she said, wondering if he had the slightest idea of what she was implying. “This child will be your heir, there will never be another.”

  She looked around to see Jack putting his head in his hands. “Henry, lad, you don’t know what you’re getting into here,” he said, the words full of fury. “She’ll change everything.” He looked up then, staring at Isabella with deep mistrust shining in his eyes. “You’ll not come and take over and bully Henry. You’ll not send him away, so he ends his days in an asylum. I won’t let you.” The words were low and threatening, full of anger. He leaned across the table, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I’d kill you first.”

  Isabella started, realising too late that Jack was the danger, not Henry. “I … I wouldn’t!” she objected, her heart thudding at the truth she saw in Jack’s eyes. He’d do it, to save Henry. “This is his home, I can see that. He’d never survive in an asylum. I … I’m not that cruel, I swear.” She meant the words, too, though it surprised her. She’d never been the charitable kind, never given a thought to those less fortunate than herself. Now she’d sunk so low, though … well, she belonged to the less fortunate, too.

  Jack let out a breath and she hoped he’d heard her sincerity. “You’ll change things, though.” He folded his arms, sitting back in his chair and holding her gaze before his eyes flicked to Henry. “She will, Henry. She’ll change things.”

  Isabella glanced between the two men, knowing she had to tread with caution. “I would like to,” she said, keeping her voice soft as she looked around at Henry. “I would like to see the house clean and beautiful again. You like beautiful things, don’t you, Henry?”

  Henry didn’t answer, his gaze on her unswerving.

  “I would like us all to eat a decent meal, too,” she said, looking at the cold grey porridge and wrinkling her nose. “Wouldn’t that be nice?” She gave a cautious smile, turning to Jack now. “Less work for you, too,” she said, but Jack just snorted, shaking his head back and forth.

  Isabella frowned, wondering what tack to take. She remembered how Henry was swayed by his dead father’s opinions, as delivered by Jack. “I’ll bet the house didn’t look like this when your father was alive,” she said, the words a little sly.

  Henry frowned, and Isabella held her breath, wondering if this was the way to manipulate
him.

  For a moment, he stood, staring at the table, deep in thought. He didn’t look up or change expression when he spoke, and his gaze was clear, the words precise. “Jack will clean your room. No people.”

  With that, he turned and strode out of the kitchen.

  Chapter 5

  “Wherein chances are given and taken on both sides.”

  Jack chuckled, a rather mocking sound that Isabella took exception to. She turned to give him a look of frustration and he snorted at her expression.

  “Henry’s not a child and he’s not stupid. He doesn’t talk because he doesn’t like to, not because he doesn’t understand. He knows when he’s being manipulated.” Jack sat forward, giving her a hard look. “I’ve heard about you, my lady,” he said, his voice low. “I’ve heard about the maids you’ve bullied, about that sharp and bitter tongue of yours. You treat people like dirt and you’ll do just about anything to get your own way.” He allowed his gaze to drift to her belly, a meaningful glance she well understood. “Well, you’ll not do it here.”

  Isabella let out a breath and pushed the bowl containing her congealed breakfast away from her before her stomach rebelled.

  “The house needs taking in hand, Jack, surely you can see that?” she said, her voice as hard as his now, hoping to sway him with reason. She couldn't deny his words, they were true enough. For the first time in her life, she felt something close to shame for that truth. “You can’t enjoy living like this?”

  Jack shrugged, his gaze falling on her like a weight, judging her. “Henry prefers it this way. I’m just trying to keep him safe and well and happy. I promised his father, and it’s a promise I mean to keep to my last breath.”

  Isabella looked up at his words, surprised. There was such passion, such loyalty. Why would a servant be so dedicated to such an odd man? It made no sense. “But why?” she asked, curious now. She couldn’t imagine any of her mother’s staff lifting a finger for her if they weren’t getting paid for it. “Why are you so devoted to him? Did you never wish to marry, to have a family?”

  “Henry’s my family,” Jack said with a smile that softened his face.

  She studied his expression, seeing the honesty in his eyes. He loved Henry, like a son.

  He snorted at the surprise in her face. “You only see the surface, my lady. You think he’s deranged, a half-wit; well, he ain’t anything of the sort. Henry’s much more than a flighty creature like you could understand, with your la-di-da ways and your ton and your rules and manners. He don’t fit into your world, so you all reckon he’s worthless. He don’t talk or act like you, so you think he needs locking up.” He sat forward now, his expression fierce, the words full of heat. “Well, you’re wrong. More wrong that you can imagine, but he won’t show you. Not unless he trusts you.”

  Isabella folded her arms upon the table, considering his words. Though she’d not admit as much, she was touched by Jack’s defence of Henry. For a moment, she even felt a little jealous that an odd creature like Henry had found such a passionate champion when she had no one.

  “Would he ever trust me?” she asked, thoughtful now and wondering why she even cared. She needed to make a home here, though, and the best method of getting her own way was to have Henry trust her.

  She turned to find Jack staring at her, a considering light to his eyes. “Not if you’re dishonest,” he said, the flicker of a contemptuous smile at his lips. He believed her incapable. “I never knew a fellow for being able to smell a lie. If you talk to him, you must be open and honest, completely honest. Try to fob him off, try to manipulate him for your own ends, and he’ll shut up like a clam. It might be months before he gives you another chance.”

  “You think me a bitch, don’t you,” Isabella said, staring at the table as she pondered his words. She traced the grain of the well-scrubbed wood with a finger, waiting for his reply. Though she didn’t look up, she thought perhaps he shrugged.

  “I know what I’ve heard,” Jack replied, his tone dark. Isabella nodded, thinking that was it, but then he gave a sigh, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, kinder. “But then I’ve heard of the Bear of Barcham Wood, too.”

  Isabella lifted her eyes to his, surprised by the fairness of his words. He was giving her a chance. For the first time in her life, she felt like giving something in return for that fairness, so she told the truth.

  “I’m afraid the stories are quite accurate.”

  He nodded then, holding her gaze. “I reckoned as much.”

  She frowned then, wondering why his words stung her. He’d not said them with any malice, there was still no judgement visible in his gaze. He only grew angry if she spoke ill of Henry. He was a good man. His opinion mattered, she realised. It would feel good … like a kind of validation, to know that he approved of her. Why, she wondered? She’d never cared before for anyone’s opinion except her mother’s, and only then because she was afraid of her. Yet she’d been miserable and alone her entire life.

  Perhaps if she changed, that could change?

  Perhaps she could learn to be happy?

  “Everything has changed,” she said, hearing the tremor of a sob in her voice. She sucked in a breath. No more crying. “Perhaps … perhaps if that’s so … I can change, too?” There was scepticism in the words and she laughed, shaking her head. What nonsense. If she didn’t believe it possible, why the hell would Jack?

  “Maybe you can.”

  She started, staring at the man who was regarding her with a mixture of pity and curiosity, and something else she couldn’t read at all. He didn’t look as though he was teasing her, though. There had been sincerity in the words.

  Jack leant towards her, a look in his eyes that might have been hope. “Listen here, my lady…”

  “Isabella,” she said, giving him a wry smile. “I don’t think we need keep the formalities any longer. I’m rather less than a lady now.”

  He nodded, an approving look in his eyes that pleased her for reasons she couldn’t understand. “Well, Isabella. I’m not as young as I was, and I worry for Henry. I often fret about what will happen to him when I’m too old to care for him, or if I’m not here at all.” He paused and took a deep breath, and she knew his next words had not been spoken lightly. “Perhaps you can change that.”

  Isabella stared at him. This man that loved and guarded Henry like a lion with a cub and knew her to be a cold, cruel bitch, would give her a chance. Was he a fool? She stared and stared as he returned her gaze and had her answer. No. No fool. A good man.

  “You’ll let me stay?” she said, the words laced with astonishment. She’d been certain up until that moment that Jack meant to get her out of the house by any means necessary.

  He laughed at that, shaking his head at her. “You still don’t get it, do you? Henry says you’re staying. I can’t change his mind and I can’t go against his wishes. If he’s decided to marry you, he’ll do it.”

  “B-but you accept it?” she pressed, knowing that Jack had the power to make her life hell if he chose to do so.

  A harder light entered his eyes at that and Isabella shivered a little. “I’ll give you a chance, is what I’ll do,” Jack said, though his voice held little warmth now. He sighed and sat back in his chair again, observing her with that curious glimmer in his eyes again. “Truth is, I’d like to believe you could change things, make life better for him. I’m not getting anywhere alone, that’s for certain. Henry’s going down, if I’m honest.” Jack rubbed a weary hand over his face and Isabella could see the strain and the worry around his eyes. He looked up at her and his fears were etched on his face. “He’s talking less, interacting less. It’s like he gets locked in his own head and he can’t get out.”

  He paused, staring into space for a long while, and when he turned back to her, she could see anguish in his expression. “I’d like to think you could reach him, if you tried. I’d like to think his interest in you could bring him back into the world like his father did.”

&nb
sp; “But you don’t think I will.” Isabella put no accusation into the words. That this man loved and worried for Henry was clear enough. That he should mistrust her was only natural. She could find no blame or resentment towards him for that.

  “I don’t trust you, no,” he said, holding her gaze. “But I’d dearly love you to prove me wrong.”

  Isabella let out a breath, something between shock and laughter. “Then … you’ll give me a chance?”

  Jack nodded, though he didn’t look happy about it. “I’ll give you a chance. Not like I have a choice,” he muttered, glowering a little now.

  “Thank you,” she said, still unsettled that a man who distrusted her would allow her such a chance, when in his position, she would be doing her utmost to get her out the house. Confused but relieved, she went to get to her feet, but Jack’s hand shot out, pinning her wrist to the table. The movement was so sudden, she almost screamed, but the sound died in her throat as she registered the expression in his eyes. Fear prickled down her back at what she saw there.

  “You’d best heed my words, though,” he said, the words soft, but so menacing. “I’ll not let you make him miserable, and there’s plenty of places to hide a body in Barcham Woods.”

  Isabella sucked in a breath and gave a taut nod of understanding. He meant it. He really did.

  ***

  The first challenge to face Isabella was the wedding itself.

  Jack had bought a common licence, which meant they need not wait for the banns to be read. They would, however, need to marry in a church, with witnesses. Jack would serve as one, but the priest and the other witness made a crowd of vast proportions to Henry’s way of thinking. That this idea was a challenge for him appeared to be an understatement.