The Bareknuckle Groom: The Thompsons of Locust Street

by Bush, Holly

  “How is Mr. Thompson?” Aunt Louisa asked as she was seated.

  “He is sleeping,” she said and pulled a needle from the pincushion.

  Aunt Louisa chuckled. “I realize that. I was wondering how he was feeling.”

  “He’s tired and weak right now. And not in the mood to talk, although he did listen as I read.” She noticed Muireall staring at her.

  “His body continues to heal,” Muireall said as she eyed the stitches she’d made and then glanced at Lucinda.

  “He’s bored now, as he heals, and maybe feeling a little blue-deviled,” Elspeth said.

  His sisters were aware of his mood as well, it seemed, even if their remarks were subtle.

  “He’s more than a little blue-deviled,” Kirsty said. “He’s not himself. He’s melancholy, I think.”

  Lucinda glanced at him, thankfully still sleeping soundly, as she believed he would be angry to hear them talk about him. “Has MacAvoy been to visit him?”

  “Last time MacAvoy came by, James told me to tell him he was sleeping,” Muireall said.

  “I am so worried about him. And Alexander blames himself,” Elspeth said.

  “I’d like to shake that boy until his brains rattle,” Aunt Murdoch said. “I’ve been sewing him back together and binding his ribs since he left off his short pants. He was strong even as a young boy and got himself into scrapes in the old country too.”

  “I had hoped to speak to him before his bout, but I was not able to. And we have guests coming tomorrow, and I’ll be unable to visit for at least a few days,” Lucinda said as she rose. “I am going to help him upstairs to his room. I’d like to stay and speak to him, if he’ll allow it.”

  Aunt Louisa studied her needle. “Do what you think is best, dear.”

  James was beginning to stir when she got to his chair. “Will you allow me to help you up to your room?”

  He looked up at her, and she thought he might argue, but then he took a deep breath and put both hands on the arms of the chair. He stood, wobbling a bit, but walked toward the door of the sitting room.

  “May I help you up the stairs?” Robbie McClintok asked as they walked slowly into the hallway.

  James put a hand on the newel post. “I’m fine, son. Thank you.”

  Lucinda climbed the stairs, one step behind him. He stood very still at the top of the steps, she thought to catch his breath, before continuing to his room. “You shouldn’t be up here with me, girl.”

  “Your sisters and both of our aunts know where I am going.”

  He sat down on the side of his bed after Lucinda helped him off with his robe. She propped the pillows against the headboard and laid a blanket over him.

  “Would you like to finish your nap?” she asked.

  “You should leave.”

  “I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes, and then I will leave.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Talk.”

  “I don’t know if you remember, but I was here the night of the match. I was because I’d wrapped you in my cape, and your sister Kirsty put a shawl around my shoulders and gave me a cup of tea. I’d only taken a sip when MacAvoy told me I had to come to your room. They could not get you to settle down long enough to tend you. I sat by your side while the doctor examined you, while they set your finger, while Aunt Murdoch stitched that cut over your eye.”

  James looked at her. “Why did you stay?”

  “I watched you fight. I was terrified and horrified too. I’d never seen anything so violent in my life,” she continued as if he had not spoken. “I was sick to my stomach with worry and revulsion. And I wondered why anyone would subject themselves to a fight like that and why anyone would care to see it. But the truth of the matter is that you were magnificent. Even tired, there was an elegance in how you moved and the power you wielded. You were prepared and diligent and ferocious. You never gave up, although I am so happy that Chambliss called a draw and it ended.”

  James shrugged and looked out the window. “I wasn’t as prepared as I should have been. Jackson was the best fighter I ever faced.”

  “Why don’t you think you were prepared?”

  He was silent for a few long moments and then faced her. “I fired MacAvoy. I should have never done it. It was stupid and prideful. He’s the best cornerman and trainer there is. What a fool I was.”

  “Please get well, James. There are people who care deeply for you,” she said as she stood.

  He hitched one side of his mouth up, reminding her what a devastatingly attractive man he was. “And are you one of them, Miss Vermeal?”

  She lifted one brow and went to the door. “Get your rest, Mr. Thompson.”

  Chapter 13

  “What do you need, Muireall?” MacAvoy said, coming through the kitchen door amid a whirl of snow.

  “It was James who asked I send that message to you. He’s in his room,” she said and continued examining the shelves of the pantry beside the kitchen.

  It had been six weeks since the bout with Jackson, and he’d not heard a peep from his very best friend. He was saddened by it to a degree he had not expected. He knocked on James’s door and heard a muffled “enter.” What he saw shocked him. James was on the floor of his room, bare to the waist, stretched out on his toes, pushing himself up off the floor with his arms—and every fifth one with just one arm. Sweat was dripping off of him. He jumped to his feet and pulled a towel around his neck.

  “MacAvoy.”

  “You’re feeling better, are you?”

  “Much. Ribs are healed. Hand is healed. My head is clear. I’ve been training for the last two weeks. It was a slog the first few days, but I’m getting back in shape.”

  MacAvoy turned his hat in his hands. “I’m glad to hear it, James.”

  James looked down at his bare feet. This was the part that was going to be particularly hard for him as he had little experience with being contrite or regretful. But he had to do it. If he was ever to box again, he needed MacAvoy, and he needed him regardless. He’d not seen his best friend for nearly two months.

  “The thing is, Malcolm, I fucked up.” He continued when he saw MacAvoy smile. “I should have never fired you. You’re the best cornerman in the business, and I was foolish and full of myself to think I’d done what I’d done in the ring alone. You are as much a part of my success as my fives. I couldn’t have done any of it without you.”

  “I just didn’t understand why, James. You’re my best friend. I want you to stand with me when I marry Mrs. Emory.”

  “Is it enough for me to tell you I’m a horse’s arse?”

  MacAvoy shrugged. “It’s factual anyway.”

  James laughed and held out his hand. “Are we good?”

  “Yes. We’re good,” MacAvoy said and shook James’s hand. “Why are you working out in your bedroom? Why not at one of the rings? And what are you working out for?”

  “What do you think?”

  MacAvoy shook his head. “No. Don’t tell me you’re going back in the ring.”

  James nodded slowly. “I have to. I have to finish it.”

  “No, you don’t. You don’t have to finish anything. You’re the champ.”

  “It was a draw, MacAvoy. There’s to be a rematch. And you have to get me ready to fight.”

  MacAvoy backed up, holding his hands in front of him. “And risk Murdoch’s wrath, let alone your sisters’? Even Payden would be pissed. We almost lost you, James.”

  “You’re not going to lose me, but I am going to beat Jackson in the ring. It will be my last fight, I promise.”

  “It damn well may be your last fight if you don’t have a decent cornerman.”

  “Exactly.”

  “One thing, though, James, and you’re not going to like it. You’ve got to do what I tell you during the fight. If I tell you to take a knee, you’ve got to do it. You’ve got to listen to me. I won’t do it otherwise.”

  “I never had to take a knee before.”

  “Bu
t Jackson is different than any other boxer you’ve faced. You know it. If you fight him, you’re going to have to be clever about it. You can’t just go out in the ring like you’ve done so many times and clobber the other boxer with overwhelming strength. He’s as strong as you, but he has weaknesses too. I’ll not do it unless you promise me.”

  James took a deep breath. He hated the idea of stopping the match, but he knew in his heart that MacAvoy was right, that Jackson was near his equal, and if he didn’t use his strength judiciously, he’d end up on his back—or dead, as MacAvoy implied. “I promise.”

  * * *

  “The Young family is coming to the city, renting a house, and planning on an extended stay,” Lucinda’s father said over dinner.

  “How nice.” Aunt Louisa turned to her. “I’d like to visit Madame LaFray’s this week, dear. Now that Renaldo’s family is here permanently, I thought I might take Susannah for some new dresses, and she is very excited to go. Without her older sister nearby, she’s had to rely on her papa. He has excellent taste, of course, but he does not know what clothing would please a twelve-year-old girl. Would you like to come too? It will be such fun!”

  “I thought we might host a ball,” her father said.

  “A ball, Henri? For any particular occasion?”

  He laid down his silverware and looked at Aunt Louisa. “I just told you. The Youngs are coming to Philadelphia, and I thought we could introduce them to Philadelphia society, as it were.”

  “I will not be sponsoring Mrs. Althea Young in any way into Philadelphia society. She is a social climber and an unpleasant woman as well. Do as you want, Henri, but I won’t attend,” she said.

  “Not attend? Wouldn’t it be a good time to introduce Delgado as well?”

  Aunt Louisa stilled. “Yes. It would be a very good time to introduce Renaldo and his family.” She took a deep breath. “But I will have a party here for their family alone or have it at whatever home he settles on, if you’d rather I didn’t go to the expense separately.”

  He signaled for more wine and turned to Lucinda. “It sounds as though your aunt may be busy. Why don’t you take charge of this event, my dear? Your very first ball to plan all on your own. Spare no expense either, Daughter. I don’t want the Youngs to think we’ve cheaped on our entertainments.”

  “Thank you for your confidence in me, Papa, but I really have no interest in planning an event such as this,” Lucinda said.

  “Come now,” he said. “You’ll be planning these sorts of events as a married woman. May as well begin now.”

  She shook her head. “I have no plans to marry at this time.”

  “No plans to marry? I was hoping to announce an engagement at this ball, but if you need more time to get to know him, I suppose we’ll just have to announce it in the papers, although I find that practice gauche.”

  Aunt opened her mouth to speak, but Lucinda stopped her. “Papa,” she said and waited until he looked at her. “I have no plans to marry at this time, and I can tell you, with certainty, I never intend to marry Carlton Young.”

  “Lucinda,” he said, his voice rising.

  “Papa,” she spoke over his words. “I will never marry Carlton Young. There is no more to discuss on the subject.” She rose from her chair and laid her linen napkin beside her plate. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

  Lucinda slowly climbed the steps to her room. She was sure that at sometime in the future, she would have to accept that she may be separating herself permanently from her father. She recognized his single-mindedness on the subject of marriage for her and knew that he would not relent. That he would continue his campaign until she took an irretrievable step. Her aunt followed her to her bedroom.

  Lucinda closed the door behind Aunt Louisa. “Mr. Delgado is buying a house in Philadelphia?”

  “Yes. He’s had an agent searching ever since he sailed back to Spain to close up his offices and sell his home there.”

  “Do you think you’ll be joining him in his new house?”

  Aunt Louisa blushed. “Renaldo has proposed, and I have accepted, although we won’t be married until you are settled. Don’t worry about that.”

  “Would he consider allowing me to reside with his family, with you, once you are married?”

  Aunt rushed to her and held her hands. “There is nothing that would give me greater joy, but I worry that it may cause a permanent rift between you and your father. When did you begin thinking about this?”

  “I’m almost twenty-five. Truthfully, I don’t really want to join your and Mr. Delgado’s household, although I think the both of you would make it very comfortable for me.” She looked up at her aunt with a wry smile. “I’m going to tell Papa that I want a home of my own. He has several properties that would be suitable. I have monies from Mother’s family coming to me on my next birthday that should keep me fed and clothed with suitable servants.”

  Aunt Louisa dropped into a chair. “You are going to ask your father for one of these homes, and when he refuses, you’re going to tell him you’re moving in with Renaldo and I.”

  Lucinda nodded. “I am.”

  “You tricky girl! He will sign over a property in an instant rather than have you under Renaldo’s roof.”

  “That is the plan.” Lucinda smiled. “You are free to marry Mr. Delgado at your leisure.”

  * * *

  “You’re going to kill me, MacAvoy,” James sputtered as he dragged a wagon loaded with lumber down the alley. He’d put his arms through the ropes for the horse harnesses at the front of the cart and moved forward inch by precious inch. He’d made it down the alley once and turned it, now making his way back toward number 75.

  “We’re going to increase your stamina, James. I want you to get to exhaustion and have the strength to go on. Think about that wagon as if it were Jackson’s face. Fight through it,” MacAvoy said, walking beside him.

  “I’d rather . . . think of it . . . as yours. As I drag your . . . nose through this gravel,” James said.

  “Think of it anyway you’d like. You’ve not far now. I can see your back gate.”

  James pulled his shaking arms out of the harness and bent at his waist, taking deep breaths.

  “Come on,” MacAvoy said. “Let’s take one walk down the alley and back. We’ll be done for the day then.”

  “Did you talk to Chambliss?”

  MacAvoy nodded. “Set for the twenty-fourth.”

  “After your wedding?”

  “Hell yes, James. I don’t want you standing at the altar beside me with two black eyes. And Elspeth has engaged someone to take pictures of us. Have you seen any of them? Of the daguerreotypes? There are pictures of the battlefields at Gettysburg at the Philadelphia Museum. Rows upon rows of dead men.”

  “And you’re worried about me with a black eye?”

  MacAvoy laughed and then sobered. “You’re going to be there, right? At my wedding?”

  “I’m standing up for you. Of course I’ll be there.”

  “Every time I think about standing up in front of all those people, some of them society folk, it makes me near sick to my stomach. I keep thinking someone’s going to stand up and ask why some rummy’s kid thinks himself good enough to marry Eleanor Emory.”

  “I’m going to be right beside you. Nobody’s going to say anything like that without answering to me. And anyway, it’s just so much shit. You’ve made something of yourself, you have a new promotion at your work, and you are marrying an upright, beautiful woman. Nobody gets to say anything to you.”

  “And don’t forget Mary. I’m going to be a papa right off,” MacAvoy said with a shaking voice.

  “We won’t forget Mary. She’ll have you wrapped around her finger before you leave the church. Is Elspeth watching her while you take Mrs. MacAvoy to Annapolis for a honeymoon?”

  “Yes. Eleanor could hardly believe that her employer would do such a thing, but Mary is so excited, and your sister has all kinds of things planned for the two of them. El
eanor doesn’t really have anyone else, other than an elderly aunt. Her parents are dead, and Mr. Emory’s parents are still in England.”

  “They’ll have a grand time, you know. Elspeth can hardly wait for her own wee one to be born, so this will be good practice for her,” James said with a laugh.

  MacAvoy stopped when they’d rounded the alley and put his hands on James’s shoulders. “You’ve got to promise me that you will keep up with all of your workouts while I’m away.”

  “I will, MacAvoy. I promise. You won’t be thinking about me while you’re away anyway, man. Let’s hope Mrs. Emory can keep you occupied.”

  James laughed at the look on MacAvoy’s face and the blush rising up his neck. His friend looked away with a grin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “It’s all you can think about, MacAvoy.” James laughed. “I’ve known you since you were a boy, remember?”

  “No more than you think about Miss Vermeal. Don’t look at me like that,” MacAvoy said. “I’ve seen how you look at her. You’re thinking about her now.”

  He was thinking about her. He was thinking about that declaration she’d made and how he’d acted as if her words didn’t affect him, making a glib comment about whether she was one of the people that cared deeply for him. But her words had affected him. He could not deny it, as he went to sleep every night hearing her words in his head and letting himself review them, steep himself in them, trying to understand why his heart pounded hard in his chest as he thought of them. The truth of the matter is that you were magnificent. Even tired, there was an elegance in how you moved and the power you wielded.

  “Let me buy you a whiskey before the wedding. Before you’re a married man who’s not allowed to meet an old friend.”

  “Won’t be a case of not being allowed, Thompson.” MacAvoy laughed as he began to walk down the alley. “I’ll just prefer her company to yours!”