Nannyland

by Jane Elizabeth Hughes

  I had rehearsed all sorts of cutting remarks. But when Lucian drew me into his arms, it was as if the past months had never happened; for one frightening, paralyzed moment, I was frozen, powerless to resist.

  Behind me, John’s voice said coolly, “What a touching reunion. I take it this is the estimable Mr. Fellowes?”

  Furious with both men but mostly with myself, I pushed away from Lucian so abruptly that he wobbled, almost losing his balance. I saw a look of pure rage cross his face when John laughed; above all else, Lucian hated to look the fool.

  John said, “Won’t you come in?” and opened the door hospitably wide. Recovering his dignity, Lucian stalked into the great hall.

  His grand entrance was spoiled when Henry came streaking into the hall, closely followed by a shrieking Katherine. Having moved on from Billy Elliot, Henry was in the throes of Harry Potter mania. He sported Harry Potter spectacles (through which, unfortunately, he couldn’t see), a black cape that flowed behind him, and a black wand that waved dangerously close to Katherine’s face.

  He skidded to a stop in front of his father. “Look, Daddy! I’m Harry Potter! I’m a much better Harry than Daniel Rad-whatever!”

  Lucian was frankly staring.

  Katherine cried, “He took my favorite lotions! He mixed up a magic potion and he took all of my L’Occitane lotions! Jordy, make him give them back!”

  Mary came running—yes, running!—into the hall, waving a crushed package of cigarettes in the air triumphantly. “Daddy!” she exclaimed. “Jordy said I could flush your cigarettes down the toilet if I could find them. So Jane and I went searching, and look! I found them!”

  John opened his mouth, but the children had snapped me back to reality and I beat him to it. “The asthma specialist says it’s very important for Mary’s environment to be completely smoke-free.”

  “I never smoke in the—” John started indignantly.

  Mary—yes, Mary!—interrupted him. “It doesn’t matter. Even the slightest bit of smoke is bad for me. And bad for you, too! I’m flushing these down the toilet right now, and you can’t stop me!”

  “Good God,” John said helplessly.

  Lucian reached into his pocket and extended a pack of cigarettes to John. “Have one,” he suggested.

  John shrugged. “No, thanks. I just quit.”

  The children’s presence was like a warm blanket, surrounding me and making me whole again. They lifted me out of my frozen state and reminded me that whoever I had been when I fell under Lucian’s spell, I wasn’t that woman anymore.

  I was Lady Grey.

  Briskly, I promised Henry a real Harry Potter costume complete with eyeglasses and wand; placated Katherine by promising her a shopping trip to Harrods for new lotions; and sent Mary off to the downstairs loo for the flushing ceremony.

  Lucian looked on silently, a supercilious smile playing about his lips. John was expressionless. I knew exactly what Lucian was thinking but, as always, had no idea what John thought.

  As the children trotted off, John said politely, “Shall we continue this conversation in the parlor?”

  I looked at him in surprise; the only time we used that grand, regal room was when Lady Olivia came to visit. Perhaps John was a little more transparent than I had thought.

  Lucian shrugged, but as we proceeded through the great hall and past the library, morning room, and formal dining room, I could almost feel his hot, seething envy. However much money and power Lucian could collect, he would never be a match for the centuries of privilege and nobility that John carried so easily.

  I realized that my fists were clenched with remnants of fear and anger, and tiny beads of sweat were forming on my forehead. I remembered the first time I had seen Lucian lose control. A neophyte trader had misread the Australian dollar quotes and sold when he should have bought. The trade was small and the loss manageable, but the incident was embarrassing.

  His face black with fury, Lucian had swept the expensive computer equipment off the unlucky trader’s desk to the floor, where it crashed into a thousand shards of glass and metal. “Get out of here, you fucking moron!” he had shouted at the trader. “Get out before I throw you out! You’ll never work in this industry again! You fucking stupid idiot!”

  The young man had hurried out of the room, his eyes averted, but I saw the tears on his cheeks and felt sick. Lucian had turned to the circle of silent, staring faces and screamed, “What the fuck are you looking at? You want to follow him out of here? Get back to work!”

  I had put my hand on Lucian’s arm. “Lucian,” I began gently.

  “And you,” he shouted. “In my office. Now!”

  I hurried after him into his office. He closed the door and grabbed my arm, so tightly that I winced with pain. “Lucian, you’re hurting me,” I said.

  In a single shocking move, he threw me back against the wall so hard that my head was flung back against the dark, unyielding door. Sick and dizzy, the blood pounding in my ears, I fell to my knees. I thought of screaming for help, but I couldn’t bear for all those staring faces to witness my humiliation. I felt the back of my head, and my fingers came away stained with blood.

  “You stupid cunt. Why didn’t you tell me he was a fucking moron? And don’t you dare cry! I hate sniveling women.”

  Then he saw my bloody fingers, and his whole demeanor changed. He bent down and gently, solicitously helped me to my feet. He brought me a cold washcloth from his washroom and held me until I stopped shaking.

  That was my first encounter with an angry Lucian.

  Now I was shaking again. I wanted to warn John how dangerous Lucian was; how terrifying he could be, especially if he felt himself at a disadvantage. But I was frozen.

  As we perched uncomfortably on the Louis XIV sofas, Lucian opened his mouth to speak, but John rode over him smoothly. “Lady Grey would like this matter put behind her, and any conversations should be with her solicitor.”

  “Lady Grey?” Lucian said skeptically.

  “Me,” I whispered.

  Lucian shifted uncomfortably. “Could I please have a few minutes alone with Jordy?”

  For the first time, John hesitated.

  No, John, don’t leave me alone with him! I’m frightened!

  But I didn’t want John to witness my humiliation, and I didn’t want Lucian to hurt John as he had hurt me. Unable to speak, I nodded at John.

  Amazingly, John smiled at me. Gracefully, he rose, and Lucian rose, too, as if not wanting to be at a disadvantage against this older, cultured lord of the realm. I looked at the two men, side by side, and marveled at the differences. Lucian was slight, with an intense nervous energy coiled up inside, and thinning dark hair sleeked back from his high forehead. John was taller, fitter, blonder, but most important, he had an air of casual, elegant self-assurance even in jeans and sweater that Lucian, for all his Armani suits and Gucci loafers, would never have.

  In that moment, I was proud to be Lady Grey.

  But I knew that Lucian would make me suffer for it.

  John left, closing the door firmly behind him, and Lucian turned to me. “Alone at last,” he said, taking my hands in his.

  I let my damp hands rest in his, afraid at first to pull away. But under the fear, curiosity was building: What would his next ploy be? Lucian always had backup plans and more backup plans; it was the mark of a good trader.

  He raised my hands to his lips and kissed them. “Jordy,” he murmured. “I’ve missed you so much. New York is a wasteland without you. Won’t you come back?”

  A kernel of anger joined the curiosity, and I remembered the trap that John and Nirav Gupta had laid. “What about the lawyers?” I asked, trying to sound tremulous. “And the charges?”

  “Those will all go away,” he said carelessly. “AmCan will get a slap on the wrist and pay some fines.” He drew me close, his lips grazi
ng my cheek. “We were so good together,” he whispered. “Weren’t we?”

  “No, we were a disaster together.” I pulled away from him and knotted together my shaking hands.

  He paused, and I could see him reassessing, reaching for plan B.

  “Well, then,” he said briskly. “Perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

  “Like what?” I said warily.

  “You come back, sign the consent decree, and I’ll see to it that the charges against you are dropped.”

  “I didn’t do anything. Why shouldn’t I just go to the prosecutors and testify against you?” Ha! I thought. Take that, you prick!

  He paused again. Plan C was on its way.

  “Jordy,” he said warningly, “if you don’t cooperate, we can make your life a living hell.”

  “Oh? How?” I never would have dared talk back to him in New York. But the children flashed through my mind, reminding me that I was not the same Jordy I had been in New York. Somehow, in losing New York, I had found my power.

  His face darkened, and I regretted letting John leave the room. I knew how quickly Lucian could morph from charm to threats; I used to cover the bruises left by his “lovemaking” with high-necked sweaters and long-sleeved shirts.

  He reached for me again, and this time I moved away. “You have no idea what we can do,” he hissed. “Those adorable little children? How would they feel to see videos of you sucking my cock all over the Internet? Oh yes, my Lady Grey, you never knew that I had those, did you?”

  I backed away again, but he grabbed me and held me to his chest. Horribly, I felt him growing hard against me. “I could make you do it right now,” he whispered.

  I shuddered, feeling sick and dizzy, bile rising in my throat.

  The door opened, and John walked in. “Mr. Fellowes, I believe you have outstayed your welcome,” he said coolly. “Let me show you to the door.”

  Lucian let go of me, and I stumbled back. John didn’t even glance at me, his eyes fixed on Lucian.

  “Not until Lady Grey and I have reached an understanding,” Lucian said. “Are we in agreement, Lady Grey?”

  I swallowed hard. Still, John didn’t look at me; I couldn’t imagine what he was thinking.

  “Any agreement will be made through her solicitors,” John said calmly.

  I wished that John would drop his aristocratic hauteur and behave like an ordinary man. Hit him! I wanted to scream. Smash in that ugly, leering face! Do it for me, John!

  Instead I stood there silent, my back pressed against the wall.

  John said politely, “May I offer you some water or tea before you leave? I believe the kettle is on in the kitchen.”

  I stared at him disbelievingly.

  Lucian laughed. “You British!” he said mockingly. “You’ll even offer tea to your wife’s lover.”

  John smiled slightly and walked over to Lucian, his hand held out. “And a handshake, too,” he said agreeably.

  Shaking his head, Lucian extended his hand, but in a sudden movement, John grabbed him by the collar and threw him, hard, against the ancient paneled wall. Before Lucian could react, John hit him, and Lucian’s nose spouted blood.

  I watched, mesmerized, as Lucian sank to the floor. Almost casually, John kicked him in the ribs. Tears welled up in Lucian’s eyes as he brought his hands to his nose.

  “You sniveling little coward,” John said conversationally. “Now get your miserable, mangy body up off my floor and out of my house before I really get annoyed. Just so you know—this is how we British treat scum who threaten our women.”

  Shocked, Lucian didn’t move.

  “Out!” John roared. “Get out before I throw you out, you bloody bastard!”

  Hastily, Lucian scrambled to his feet and hurried out the door. We heard his footsteps scurrying along the flagstoned hall, then the front door opening and closing.

  John looked at me. “How did you ever get involved with such a snake anyway?” he asked with real curiosity.

  I burst into tears.

  “Oh, here now,” John said uncomfortably.

  Chapter 34

  I COULDN’T STOP crying. Alarmed, John put his arm around me and half carried me up the stairs to our bedroom. “Don’t cry,” he said awkwardly, patting me on the back. “Please don’t cry.”

  That only made me cry harder.

  He drew me to the bed and we lay down together, his arms tightly around me and my head pressed against his chest. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “Please don’t cry, sweetheart, it’s all right. The bad man is gone now.”

  I smiled through my tears.

  “I won’t let the bogeymen come get you,” he continued. “We’ll look under the bed together every night, and—”

  “Oh, hush up,” I said, and felt him smile against my hair. I lifted my tearstained face to his, and he kissed me. “Thank you,” I said softly.

  “You’re welcome.” He hesitated. “For what, exactly?”

  “For hitting him.”

  “My pleasure,” he said. “Truly, my pleasure.”

  I snuggled closer and, for the second time that day, felt a man hard against me. But this was so different. I slipped my hands under his shirt to feel his chest, and he murmured, “Don’t start anything you can’t finish, my lady.”

  “Oh, we can finish,” I assured him.

  “But the children—”

  “—will be fine.” I disentangled myself and crossed the room to lock the door. Then I went back to the bed and slipped into the arms of my husband.

  — – — – —

  “Seriously,” John said, winding a long tress of my hair around his fingers. “How did you ever get involved with that man?”

  It was an excellent question. “I’ve been wondering that myself. I suppose—well, I suppose it was because he wanted me.”

  “My dear Lady Grey,” said John, “you are an extremely pretty girl, and I am sure a great many men wanted you. Not to mention that you are a very capable, intelligent girl who has sorted my family with admirable efficiency.”

  Pleased that he had noticed, I decided not to take issue with his calling me a girl. “This was different,” I tried to explain.

  “How?”

  “He was very important and very powerful. And he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “So I gathered,” John said.

  “He wanted me, and so he took me. It was that simple.”

  “But why does a lovely, intelligent, well-educated girl just let a man like that ‘take’ her?” His tone changed. “Did he force you?”

  “Sometimes. But at first it was the power and thrill of being with the famous Lucian. And then I was afraid to stop. It never occurred to him that I could turn him down, so it never occurred to me, either.”

  John was silent. I could see that he didn’t understand, and I couldn’t blame him. I didn’t understand, either.

  Perhaps a therapist would have a field day explaining the damage that a cold, disinterested mother and long-gone father had done, but soul-searching wasn’t my nature. All I knew was that Lucian had come along at the most vulnerable moment of my life, when I was still shaky from illness and terrified that my career was slipping into its final days. And if I didn’t have my trading room, then what did I have?

  So I had made a terrible mistake with Lucian. And despite John’s kindness in this moment, I wasn’t absolutely certain that I hadn’t made the same mistake with him, too.

  Fortunately, the children saved me for the second time that day. Someone banged on the door and Henry shouted, “Jordy, are you in there? It’s time for football and I can’t find my jersey!”

  We heard some scuffling, and then Jane called, “Jordy? Daddy? What are you doing?”

  I jumped out of bed, pulling the sheet across my body as if they coul
d see my nakedness. John grinned. “We’ll be right out,” I called. “We’re just . . .”

  “Going over the household accounts,” John said.

  Katherine joined the chorus. “Jordy? You promised to take me shopping today! When are we going?”

  With a sigh, John got up and started pulling on his jeans. “Feel better now?” he asked me.

  “Much, much better.”

  — – — – —

  Over the rest of the day, as I drove the children around and listened to their chatter, my thoughts kept drifting back to John. Was he just another Lucian—a man who wanted me, and took me, without much regard for my feelings? He had been kind after the scene with Lucian, but in the normal course of events, his attitude toward me hovered somewhere between light amusement and irritation.

  Perhaps I didn’t really want to be more than an agreeable plaything to John. Strong emotion was frightening in others and seemingly absent from my psyche. Perhaps that was the best thing about this detached sham “marriage”—it insulated me from pain and passion.

  Except sexual passion, of course.

  Katherine said curiously, “What’s wrong, Jordy? Your face looks hot.”

  I blushed even more. “I might be coming down with a cold.”

  She snuggled closer to me on the bleachers at Henry’s game, where a cool, blustery wind was blowing. “I’ll keep you warm.”

  Chapter 35

  A FEW DAYS later, Jane’s school was closed because of a burst water pipe, so I took her to Hatfield for the day. Hatfield was the childhood home of Queen Elizabeth I, cousin to Lady Jane Grey, and we were hoping to learn more about the relationship between the two girls. They had shared a home and studied together for a time, when Elizabeth was thirteen years old and Jane was nine; was it true that Jane had admired her elder learned cousin? Envied her? Hoped to see her become queen?

  Our docent was a small, elderly man clad in an ancient tweed suit. His face was a mass of wrinkles, but when he smiled, I could see that they were mostly laugh lines. His dark eyes were slightly rheumy. “This is reportedly Princess Elizabeth’s bedchamber,” he announced, sweeping his hand toward the magnificent four-poster bed draped with shimmering, rich velvet hangings and sporting a feather mattress so inviting that it begged you to climb in.